Disclaimer: Don't own Gambit; do own pretty much everyone else.
03
Carefully the friends detached themselves from so uncomfortable a close proximity. Gambit risked a small smile as they parted, which Blaze returned slyly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her bejewelled left ear. She got to her feet first, pushing herself up from Gambit's shoulder. He almost reached out to grab her trailing hand, but his self-control kicked in just in time. Best not to, she'd shot him down before. Only reason he'd got away with it was because she'd thought he was blind drunk. Beside there were more pressing things to worry about.
"Merci," he thanked her as he stood too, to which she replied "De rein," meaning you're welcome. Blaze let him precede her to where the men and the fallen mutant were.
The man with no hand was still on his knees sobbing. His associate had lost a shark bite like chunk of flesh from his shoulder, as well as part of his head. Consequentially he was dead. Remy had not been playing with these guys. The one with no hand looked up sniffing as Blaze came to hover over him. She lashed out with a kick that broke his nose and slammed his head back onto the concrete with a sickening thwack. More blood ran from the back of his head. Blaze would always rather kick or punch someone than try and call up on her erratic and dangerous mutation. A pyrokenetic who refused to use her powers, sometimes they still managed to overwhelm her, leaving her exhausted and people dead. People like her parents for example.
Gambit went to the strange mutant, who lay face down and unmoving, but still shimmering with an electric blue light. Gambit took a breath, then reached out to roll the mutant over. Almost immediately the light faded and he was barely zapped by whatever electric power flowed through her. She was, in the new dawn light, attractive. Yet it was oppositely to the way Blaze was beautiful. Startlingly unfeminine, except for her lips that promised to be full and succulent when they weren't purple and bleeding. Her hair was short cropped and electric blue, her body long, lean and flexible.
Quickly he checked her injuries. She had been lucky, suffering little more than a heavy bruising and a few knocks to the skull. Although no medic, Remy was confident she'd live. There was an obvious reason why the mutant had not been able to defend herself. Even with her electrical powers jumping to be used, she could not focus them to be anything more than the strange blue haze. This was because even now her white, talon-like hands were clutched to her buxom, holding desperately onto a brown paper package.
"Sod this," said Blaze softly, more to herself than her partner. "I'm going nicking a car. No point trying to stay under the police radar anymore mon Ami."
Gambit didn't reply. He had successfully prised the package from the unconscious mutant's grasp. Slowly he slid a finger under an edge of the paper and peeled it back.
"Que'est-ce qu'il y a?" Blaze breathed from over his shoulder, asking what's the matter. Seeing what Gambit lifted up to show her, she rolled her eyes and moved away. Her words dripped with sarcasm as she left to rustle up some transportation. "Oh bravo Rem, you've rescued a frigging druggie."
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One week later"What do you say?"
As the tattooed man finished speaking, he felt something narrow and hard press against his groin. He glanced down, and then snarled at a vicious looking flick knife held against him right where the main artery pumped under the skin between groin and thigh.
"Drop the gun and kick it away," a female voice spat in his ear. He had no choice but to do as he was told. The knife had already slit his clothing and was scratching his skin. The gun slid across the floor and lodged under a chest of drawers.
"What do you want?" he growled, trying to twist round enough so he could see who his attacker was.
"You shut the fuck up and listen," she told him, pulling the knife away again in a sweeping motion. "Go sit down over there, now, and tell us your name." The tattooed man moved as suggested across the room to an empty seat on a rickety dining chair. His progress took him even further away from his gun. He had to turn round to sit down, getting his first glimpse of the young woman. It was not the one who'd been 'unconscious' on the sofa. She was sat up now, leaning forward with her elbows on her lap. Her sculpted blue hair made her face almost too thin. She looked up, fixing the tattooed man with vivid blue eyes, too vivid to be normal. Blue lighting played over her hands. Mutants, he swore mentally, he should have pissing known.
"Henrick," he replied finally, looking up at the one with the knife. Like the blue haired one, there was something not normal about her too. Her long red curls hung down her back, whilst her brown eyes judged him wickedly. She too was attractive, and not wearing much more than her blue haired counterpart. A black strapless top, black hot pants and black stiletto heels made up her outfit. She made no suggestion as to her freak's power.
Henrick's eyes flicked to the youth by the doorway. Not one of these kids was over twenty, he'd bet good money on it. From his new seat light fell differently on the youth. Henrick inhaled sharply, and the youth smiled, red-on-black eyes lighting up with mirth. The cards he shuffled started to glow round the edges and the hairs on the back of Henrick's arms started to tingle.
"We need a mule Henrick, and you're it," the redhead approached him, finely scratching his throat with the tip of the knife. "You'll approach Fallon with the deal, and arrange to trade in two days. Come back here at noon that day to collect the merchandise. You'll make the trade at his den and bring the money to us."
"What's in it for me?" Henrick wanted to know. He flinched despite himself as the girl slammed the knife point-down into the wood of the seat, right between his legs.
"You get to stay intact, Henrick," she crooned. "But if you're a very good boy, I'm sure my friend and I could…repay you."
She wasn't talking about financial remuneration. Henrick swallowed. Mutants, he thought, damn it they're not on the same planet as the rest of us… He nodded, understanding everything. After they showed him the door, he stood outside breathing heavily for a few moments, waiting for the throbbing of his blood to abate. Fucking mutants, they'd had him sussed all along. He'd try and fleece Satan himself to stick it to a pretty girl or two. Come to think of it, to approach Fallon he might as well approach the Devil himself…