"The Big Fat Kill"
"The Pits"
"No more questions, Dani. Do as I say," Storm says into her cell phone. She was back in her apartment, peeling off her soaked leathers. "Clear the streets. We're in lockdown," she says snuffing out her cigarette. "We're not selling any tail in Old Town. Not tonight. Go on home. Goodnight." Storm snaps her cell phone shut and tosses it onto her bed.
She grabs a towel and begins to dry her naked body when a massive pair of gloved hands reaches out of the darkness. They coil around her, pinning her arms behind her back and wrapping around her throat.
"Don't struggle," a deep voice says. "You'll only hurt yourself." Storm struggles anyway, trying to fight off her attacker. But the man's strength is enormous and he only holds her naked body tighter against his own cold body.
Storm's eyes widen and her irises go white. Static electricity levitates her hair and makes the lights in the room flicker.
"Don't bother with the lightning. You can't hurt me without bring down the whole building. Right on top of all your little whore friends." Storm's eyes turn back to their normal blue and she stops struggling.
"Have no hope. Your cause is lost. We know everything. You were going to the tar pits to help the man you love. To make sure he's safe." The man chuckles grimly. "He is not safe."
Those four words echo in Storm's head and she renews her struggles. She lashes out with her teeth, but can't reach the fingers at her throat. The man tightens his grip even more. Storm mutters a soft cry of pain as the bones in her wrists scream in agony.
"Soon the corpse of Lieutenant Bishop will be in our hands. The truce between the police and you prostitutes will be shattered. There will be arrests. There will be deaths. My employer will seize what remains of this neighborhood. You will be slaves. Nothing can stop this.
The man lowers his head and whispers into Storm's ear. "But it is in your power to save many lives. By facilitating the process of transition. By negotiating the surrender of Old Town."
A bolt of lightning goes off in Storm's mind, bringing back a whirlwind of memories.
"Son of a bitch. You son of a bitch," she hisses. "I know you."
The man laughs. "Your memory serves you well." He lets go of her throat and shoves her roughly to the ground. Storm lands with a thud and stares at a man she thought was long dead.
"I have suffered you and your kind before," he growls. "The dregs of Sin City." He steps into the light and Storm's terror increased ten-fold. Before her stands a monster of a man; tall, broad shouldered, dressed in a chauffeur's uniform. His face was partially hidden underneath a black cap, but Storm could see the gleaming gold orb that replaced what was once his right eye. The light gleams off the man's organic steel skin.
"Colossus! But how…" Storm mutters. "We…Gambit…killed you!" she shouted at the man.
"The brute called Logan, who ripped an eye from me with his claws. The assassin Psylocke, who shoved her psychic blades through the bones of my arms. And your beloved Remy LeBeau, the demon called Gambit, who threw six of his playing cards into my chest—Gambit, who rose from the slime you both inhabit to murder the goddess Bella Donna and deny me the honor of dying with her."
A metallic boot lashes out and connects with Storm's ribs. She crumbles to the floor, holding her side.
"I serve a new master now. Soon you and all your wretched kind will serve him as well. Get dressed," he orders. "I suggest something less provocative than what you wore when you arrived here. Men of low character will see you tonight," Colossus suggests.
"Yu wasted time, big man," snaps Storm from the ground. "You waited until I had all my wet clothes off, before you grabbed me. You waited till I was butt-naked. And you liked what you saw, didn't you." Storm's voice rose to a purr only a dead man could ignore. "Come on. Admit it. I could tell. You held me so close there wasn't an atom in the way—too bad you're hung like a flea!" she roars.
A gloved hand of steel slaps her across the face, sending her reeling to the ground again. Storm rears her head up and glares daggers at the Russian standing over her.
"Waste no time," he orders. "I was asked to bring you unspoiled if I could. I would hate to have to mar your flawless skin. Get dressed. And shed a tear for Gambit if you must. For by now, he is surely dead."
"You're wrong!" shouts Storm. "My man will find a way. He always finds a way."
-X-
A few more minutes work and it'll all be over. Jackie-Boy and his buddies will be at the bottom of the pits and I can catch a train out of Sacred Oaks and be back home before sunrise.
All of a sudden I remember I promised Rogue I'd call her. Almost makes me burst out laughing. Feels like it's been a month since we were making love in her bed, and here it's only been three hours. Three hours—and a lifetime's worth of bad calls and bad breaks and ugly, nasty business…
…But it'll all be over soon. This heap of a T-Bird and everyone in it will sink into the primordial muck of the tar pits and nobody's gonna know where they went. Nobody but me and the girls of Old Town and a bunch of concrete and plastic dinosaurs. "Big Bishop" will be preserved for all time, a somewhat damaged specimen of the early twenty-first century asshole.
Maybe Rogue will let me come back to her place if I'm nice when I call her. Can't remember ever pining for a girl after only being away for three hours. I push the T-Bird harder, the thoughts of Rogue urging me on.
I reach the edge of the pits. One more good push and it'll all be over.
BLAM!
"Gaaa!" Something white hot slams into my chest and knocks all the wind out of my lungs in a sudden rush. I sink to the wet ground behind the T-Bird as the world goes as black as the bubbling pools of tar behind me.
So close. I was so…close…
-X-
Three figures walk out of the darkness. Two men and one woman. One of the men, close to seven feet tall of bulking muscle, brought up the rear of the group. The other was leading the pack and held a smoking gun and was laughing.
"I can't fathom these American's," he says in a pleasant Irish voice. He has a full gray beard and walked with a slight limp. "They're always whinin' and weepin' and wailin' and goin' on about how they got it so bad. This here is a fine country. A grand country. The guiding light of the modern world, it is."
"You wouldn't consider doin' the rest of us the favor of shuttin' your gob and staplin' it shut, now would you, Tom?" said the woman. She was young, barely in her twenties with long copper hair and cut a slim, but fine figure. "Before we're all stone-cold dead from boredom, that is."
"Listen to her!" 'Black' Tom Cassidy exclaims. "The mouth on our dear little Rahne! All that out of nowhere, like that she's talking. That's America for you. Equal rights. Low taxes. Land of opportunity, eh Cain?"
"It ain't America," Cain Marko, the big bulking man answers. Like his companions, he's dressed all in black fatigues. But Cain has on a large, bullet shaped helmet on as well. The helmet completely enclosed his head and face, leaving just three holes in the front for his eyes and mouth. When asked why he wears it, Cain always smiled and said the helmet keeps his face pretty (which was a nightmare before he ever put the helmet on in the first place). "Rahne's always had too much mouth on her. Soon she'll be howlin' at the moon!" he laughed. Tom joins in on the joke and starts laughing as well.
"Piss off, the both of you shitheads," Rahne growls. It's a feral sound, not something that a human voice could make. But Rahne, like her companions, wasn't exactly human.
Tom ignores her and continues his little speech as they approached the T-Bird.
"Land of opportunity this is. Where else would one bullet buy the fortune we're getting' for this?"
"Sure and it beats the living hell out of blowing up airports and churches without a shilling to show for it," agrees Rahne as she reaches the passenger side window. She stares in and looks at what's left of poor Jackie-Boy. He was sitting upright again, the end of the barrel in his forehead aimed straight into the sky. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth like drool.
"Yeesh,' she mutters to herself.
Outside, near the rear of the car, close to where he shot the bloke Gambit like he was told to, Tom was rummaging around the over grown grass.
"You find something, Tom?" asked Cain.
"Yeah," replies Tom as he crouches down on his knees. "Looks to be our poor, dead cop's badge. But it's all bent up. There's something stuck in it..." Tom rotates the badge until he sees the front. A large bullet, just like the kind Tom was using in his gun, was smashed into the metal shield.
"…Oh, bloody hell. It's the bloody bullet!"
-X-
Jackie-Boy's badge.
Slapping against my chest.
Right over my heart.
Tom slowly turns towards me, his eyes going wide when he sees the energy filled playing cards in my hands.
"Oh, bloody hell…"
I throw one card at Tom. The card cackles and hisses in the rain and strikes the man right between the eyes.
BOOM!
The card explodes on contact and Tom's head goes the way of the dodo.
It didn't take long for Rahne and Cain catch on and start opening fire at me. I twist and duck my way to the other side of the car and use it for cover.
"You son of a bitch!" curses Rahne. Her voice sounded different to me. I peek my head up just enough to see her and my jaw drops. Instead of seeing the slim, but attractive girl, there was a werewolf firing an Uzi at me. Not like a Lon Chaney Wolf Man thing either. A wolf's head, complete with muzzle and teeth, snarls at me while a tail pokes out the back of her tight fatigues. Fur the same copper color of her hair grows out of her skin until she's completely covered. Somehow she can still stand upright and her hands are still human enough to hold and fire her gun at me.
A group of bullets ricochet off the car just above my head and I duck back down, having done enough sight seeing for a time. I hold a card between my thumb and forefinger and let it charge. And charge. And charge until its white-hot. I jump out from behind the car and throw the card. It passes through the shot out driver's side window and slams into Jackie-Boy's head. Instead of exploding, the blazing hot card slices through the asshole's skull like a knife through butter. It flies out the other side and explodes on the she-wolf's shoulder, leaving a nasty, deep wound. She howls in pain and I see her beady, bloodshot eyes glaring at me right before I throw a handful of card into her chest.
BOOM!
"You bastard!" shrieks the big guy at me. He has a clean shot at me and pulls the trigger of his machine gun. The gun clicks empty and the big man curses at it before crushing it with his bare hands.
This one might be some trouble.
Cain lowers his helmeted head and charges at the T-Bird. I throw handful after handful of cards at him, but he just runs through the explosions, completely unharmed. He bears down on me and I narrowly miss getting trampled over. Rolling to one side, I throw more cards at the man's massive back. The cards hit with as much force as all the others, and had similar results.
Cain stopped and turned back around to face me. I slowly began to maneuver away from the car, closer to the Pits where I would have more room.
"Got any more mosquitoes to hit me with, squirt?" he laughs at me.
"Gambit think he gonna try somethin' else," I answer and pull my retractable Bo staff from inside my duster. With a push of a button, the staff expands from one foot to six feet of solid steel. I twirl the staff over my and wave the human juggernaut in.
"What're gonna do? Poke me with that toothpick?" he laughs harder this time and lowers his head to charge again.
He storms forward, his heavy feet shaking the very ground as he approached.
Holding the staff in one hand, I throw more cards at him, alternating my aim from his face and the ground in front of him. Clouds of dust rise from the ground and partially hide me, giving me the one chance I need.
"ARRRRRGH!" Cain shouts as he closes in on me. He thrusts out his arms to grab me and catches only air. He stops in his tracks and looks around for me. The dust hides me well as I run behind Cain. Using my staff like a pole vault, I leap onto the head of one of the nearby dinosaur statues.
"Where are you, you little shit?" Cain bellows as the dust clears.
"Behind you, mon ami," I call. Cain whirls around and stares up.
I'm sitting on the top of one of the dinosaur statues, shuffling a new deck of cards. "You ever play 52 card pick up?" I ask.
Cain bellows in rage as I throw the entire deck of charged cards at him. All 52 crash into his chest, the combined force sending the big man flying into the air. He lands in the pits with a loud squelch and sank like a rock.
I hop down from statue and return my staff to its place inside my duster. I gulp down the bile in my throat and tell my stomach there's nothing in it to throw up.
These guys were cops. These three were mercenaries, rented terrorists. And if they were hired by who I think they were, the bad times haven't even started yet.
Then something heavy soft-lands in the grass, not four feet away.
A grenade.
And here everything seemed to be gong so well…
KA-BOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!
-X-
The world erupts in a ball of white light. The light picks up the T-Bird and throws it around like a rag doll. The trunk opens and dozens of severed body parts fly out of it. Fitzroy's head, with his Flock of Seagulls haircut, winds up in a tree.
Hellish blackness replaces the ball of light.
A blip of non-existence, like a TV switching stations. Then a jackhammer where my brain ought to be. Screeching dentist drills stuck in my ears.
From under all that come voices…
"…Sure I got hold of this copper well enough, Moira—but its not like I'm the Hulk, now is it? We'd be needin' us a friggin' crane to pull the bastard outta this soup."
"It's not like we gotta deliver every last inch of the man, Sean."
"You got a point there, Moira. Lend me your knife."
Before I even open my eyes, I know I'm in the tar. Its inky, icky blackness covers me. When I open my eyes, the tar stings. I'm semi-floating, semi-sinking in the goop, surrounded by the body parts of Jackie-Boy's friends. In front of me is the T-Bird—if only those dizzy dames had gotten me a better car none of this would have happened—with two more Irish terrorists for hire. One of them, a girl, maybe in her thirties, with the same copper hair Rahne had had. In the pit with me was a man with blonde hair. He was digging into the passenger seat for something.
"Should I take me a nap while I'm doing all this waiting?" the girl, Moira, asks.
"I'm at the bone, alright?" the man, Sean, answers and a second later he steps away from the T-Bird holding Jackie-Boy's head up like a trophy.
"Here we go," he says as he climbs out of the tar. "You ever seen anything so pretty in your life?"
I try to swim towards the edge of the pit, but moving only makes the slop suck me in deeper. The tar creeps over my chest, then shoulders. Soon I can barely keep my head above the tar. I can see Moira and Sean talking to three more terrorists. These guys just keep coming out of the woodwork.
"We'll be back for the three of you after we deliver the package. If anybody happens by here…"
"We know what do Sean. It's not like your talkin' to a pack of nuns, now is it?"
Sean opens his mouth to say something else, but by now the tar has covered my ears. I take one last look at the starry sky and sink into the dark.
-X-
Silence, now. No sound but Jackie-Boy's laughter and I'm imagining that.
Nothing. No sound. No light. No air to breathe. Only the bone-deep cold and the horrid, oily tar taste creeping up my nostrils, pressing against my lips.
'Let it in,' a voice in my head says. 'Let it fill your lungs. Its over. You're finished. The girls are finished. They were counting on you and you blew it.'
'Let it in. Suck it in and choke on it and drown in it and die like a man, not like some scared little catholic boy, thrashing and sniveling and praying to Jesus.'
'Lord, I don't mind dying. Not too awfully much I don't. But not like this. I'm begging you lord. Don't let me die knowing I'm nothing but a jerk, a failure, a loser, a complete and utter asshole.'
-X-
Skinny, steely fingers at my wrist.
Psylocke.
No, baby. No. It's too late. I'm down too deep. You're only killing yourself.
A sudden jerk upward.
I'm dreaming. I'm already dead and dreaming. It's impossible.
Impossible.
Still going upwards. Noise now. The chink, chink of a chain. The revving of an engine, a good one, not like the T-Bird, may it rust in pieces at the bottom of the Pits.
Psylocke. You're an angel. You're a saint. You're a blessing from above.
Light now. I open my eyes and blink the tar out of them. I can see Dani behind the wheel and a chain attached to the back. I see Psylocke's foot hooked around a metal hook at the end of the chain.
Air. Sweet air. Psylocke. You're Mother Teresa. You're Elvis. You're God.
And if you'd shown up ten minutes earlier and gotten just a bit more killing done, we'd still have Jackie-Boy's head.
I finally stand on solid ground and take a look at the naked body of my savior. She's covered from head to toe in tar, just like I am, and I fight off the urge to kiss her.
"Gambit!" shouts Dani as she runs towards us. "They got Storm! She was supposed to meet us at the car! She didn't show up! We went to her apartment and she was gone! They got her!"
"DAMN!" Blood rushes to my head and boils. My hands start to glow and cackle with energy. My eyes glow bright. Not only do the bastards have the head, but now they got Storm and God know what they're going to do to her.
Stay strong, baby. Stay tough. Gambit's coming.
I bottle my rage enough to talk to the girls. "We got us a lot we gotta do, girls. And we don't have a lick of time to do it in. It's a cinch you got ya'll a spy in Old Town. A stoolie who sold you out to de mob. We gotta find out who dat is. We gotta rescue Storm. But first we gotta get our hands on Jackie-Boy's head before it gets to wherever it's going and dis whole situation blows wind open." Dani nods in agreement. Psylocke remains impassive as ever.
I look around the Pits and all I see are bodies with arrows through their eyes and bodies cut to ribbons. "Psylocke—I hope to hell you left one of dem alive enough to talk."
She points across the way at the big T-Rex statue. There's a man; naked, bound, and gagged hanging upside down from the dinosaur's jaws.
I walk up to him, still covered in tar and holding a long knife I took off one of the terrorist's bodies.
I let him know I'm not fooling around.
He screams when the knife enters his belly and starts to cry when I give it a little twist.
We talk.
Reviewer Shout-outs! Yay!
Stefbug: I'm glad you like the way I handled the mutant powers. The first time I wrote a rough copy of these stories, I went a little overboard with the powers and it didn't feel very Sin City like. Now I try to use them like I would use a gun or something—only when I need to. Storm was tough as far as powers go, especially since she could go all hurricane when she loses her temper. Glad you liked the interaction between her and Remy. Hope you like this chapter.
Qpyd: Glad you like my badass Gambit. Keep on reading and reviewing.
PoisonRogue: Sounds like you're flying as much as the real Rogue. Reviews like yours are the very reason I keep writing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Darkwolfblade: The conversation between Jackie-Boy and Dwight in the car was one of my favorite scenes in the movie and I tried to maintain that atmosphere in my fic. As far as everyone's favorite southern belle making a return, I am planning on having her make a return in the later chapters. Stick around for her.
The Frog Prince of Crime: Well, Psylocke had always been my first choice. Lady Deathstrike was a passing thought that almost played out. Psy is just more badass than Deathstrike, plus Psy had that silent assassin feel to her. Glad you liked the way Storm is progressing. Tell me what you think of her in this chapter. Thanks for the continuous reviews. They have been very helpful.
NoOoNoOo Lebeau: Thanks for the great review. Glad you like the Remy/Ororo interaction. I kinda agree with you when it comes to Romy stuff. She does treat Gambit like dirt, but I like it anyway. I decided to use Storm as the main attraction in this fic because it was different. I thought of how Storm was Gambits original contact with the X-Men and was his sponsor onto the team. Well, here's the next chapter. I hope the suspense didn't kill you.
Elfkid: Always glad to have new reviewers. I felt Yukio wasn't well known enough to be a major character. I only knew her from Wolverine issues and she seemed to be too wild for the silent Miho. X-23 would have been good, but I didn't want to have such a strong connection to Wolverine in "The Big Fat Kill." As far as "A Dame to Kill For," I'm planning on starting that after this fic is finished. I haven't decided whether or not to put it in the "Blood, Bullets, and Broads," story or just have it stand by itself. Right now I'm thinking about having it by itself, since it takes place before "Big Fat Kill."
OroroHowlett: Thanks for the review. I'd appreciate more than a single sentence next time, though.
CatLadyinTraining: Glad your computer is back up and running. You nailed Manute right on the head. What do you think of my choice?
Coldqueen: Welcome back, your highness. Missed ya there for a while. I'm glad you could adapt to a Remy/Ororo based fic. Would have hated to lose you as a reader, darlin'.
Johnny Be Good: Thanks for the review, amigo. Don't sweat the writer's or idea's block. I find that if you stop concentrating on something for a little while, step away from it for a time, the answer/idea will come to you. Just keep on reading and reviewing for me and I'll be thrilled. Ideas will come on their own.
Nataku's Wrath