Author's Note: Reader discretion is advised. This fic contains references to hopelessness, despair and depression. This fic is dedicated to everyone who may recognise the true villain in this story and have fought or live with it every single day. I am always grateful for reviews, constructive criticism and writing prompts.


Miasma


The waning gibbous moon hung high in the sky, the shining white face partially shrouded by dark clouds. A few stars glittered in the inky blue-black night sky, and, somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Gambit was crouched on a sturdy branch, high up in a tree, watching the large mansion house in front of him. Over his shoulder, he carried a long anchor rope; a climbing tool with a four-pronged hook on the end. His pockets were filled with the tools of a Master Thief. There were lights at two of the windows that he could see, but it was approaching one o'clock in the morning, and the house seemed to be mostly asleep. He took his compact binoculars from one of his deep coat pockets, raising them to his eyes, as he surveyed the house. His target was inside, and no doubt heavily guarded. He could see at least two guards patrolling the grounds, two more were guarding the roof, and there were no doubt more inside.

He had spent a great deal of time preparing for this mission – he had the layout of the building memorised, and his plans had been carefully laid. He had his orders. It was time to make his move.

"Dis gonna be fun," he grinned, to himself.

Pocketing the binoculars, he clambered higher in the tree, and then leapt across to its neighbour. Keeping as high as possible, he worked his way around to the side of the building, where he drew out his bo-jitsu staff, flicking it out to its full length. He waited there for several long minutes, high up in the leafy canopy. Beneath the tree, a lone guard paused in his patrol, visually scanning the area. Gambit waited until the man's back was turned, and jumped. He landed lightly behind the guard, giving him a swift tap to the back of his head with the staff. The guard gave a small sigh, and dropped to the ground. Gambit deprived him of his two-way radio, lowering the volume to next to nothing, slipping it into his inside pocket. It would help to know what the guards were saying to each other, after all.

Leaving the man where he fell, Gambit dashed forwards, flattening himself against the wall of the house. There was at least one more guard on ground patrol, so he had to act quickly. He stowed his bo back inside his coat and unhooked the anchor rope from around his neck and shoulder, swinging it a few times to build momentum, before he flung it, catching the parapet of the roof on his first attempt. He shimmied up the rope quickly, but not all of the way to the roof. He stopped at a third storey window ledge, quickly flicking the rope free from the roof and reeling it up, looping it back over his neck and shoulder.

With cat-like agility, he leapt across to the next window sill, then the next. At the corner of the building, he leapt up, catching the edge of the roof, but did not pull himself up. He hung from the ledge, working his way around the corner by moving first his right hand, then his left hand, shuffling around the edge of the building. He reached the next windowsill, where he dropped down, perfectly balanced on the sill. He paused, listening carefully. He pounced quickly across three more windowsills, pausing each time, until he heard the soft crackle of static from the radio in his pocket, so he took it out and held it to his ear.

"This is Watchdog Whiskey to all units – I've picked up a scent on the south-east corner. We've got an intruder. Looks like he's headin' fer the roof..."

"This is Watchdog Sierra – I will head to your location immediately. Watchdog Romeo, maintain your patrol. Watchdog Charlie, what's your position?"

There was a very long pause, and Gambit smirked to himself, knowing the guard they were calling for would not be responding. He leapt across to the next window, and froze as a dark shadow passed across the moon; that was no bird... He waited until he was certain he had not been seen, listening to the radio.

"Looks like Watchdog Charlie's no longer with us. Keep your eyes peeled."

Gambit placed one hand flat on the window sill, and swung himself down, until he was hanging by his finger tips. He allowed himself to drop, catching the next window down. He repeated this a third time, this time landing on the ground floor sill on the tips of his toes, shifting his balance to avoid toppling backwards. He turned and jumped off, landing lightly on his feet, throwing himself into a forward roll and taking cover behind a bush. Let them think he was going in via the roof for now... his plan was unfolding nicely.

From another pocket, he drew a small, thin, hollow tube. Similar in design to his bo-jistu staff, it was retractable, and he pulled it open to its full length, before he placed a small projectile inside it. Normally, he relied on his card throwing abilities, but that would have been unnecessarily loud, and he did not want to attract the attention. The blowgun would be silent, and just as effective. He waited until the remaining ground patrol, 'Watchdog Whiskey', came around the corner, obviously still trying to pick up his trail. He raised the tube to his lips, aimed, and blew.

"What the hell...? Aw, dammit..."

The guard looked down at the small, red stain on the front of his uniform, before he dropped to the ground, slumping against the wall of the mansion. Gambit swiftly pocketed the blowgun, and sprinted from his hiding place, ducking and diving for cover, until he reached the other side of the house.

"Watchdog Whiskey, there is no sign of the intruder on the south-east roof, do you have a visual?"

"This is Watchdog Romeo, ah've got eyes on Watchdog Whiskey – he's down. Ah'm goin' in fer a closer look..."

On the other side of the sprawling mansion, Gambit found a ground floor window and, using a pocket knife, he prised it open just a hairs' breadth, then slid a playing card into the gap. He pulled out a spool of conductive wire, attaching it to the card, unrolling it quickly as he headed for the nearby bushes. He withdrew and loaded the blowgun again, making sure he was completely hidden by the foliage, several feet away from the window. Taking the wire in his fingers, he concentrated, and sent a charge of his bio-kinetic energy through it. The charge carried through it to the playing card, which immediately detonated, blowing out the window.

"Watchdog Bravo to all units, we have a window breached on the ground floor, north face!"

"This is Watchdog Romeo, ah'm closest – ah'll check it out!"

Gambit watched as the guard came flying around the corner; he hesitated only briefly at the sight of a very attractive woman, before he reminded himself of his mission, raised the blowgun to his lips, and hit her square in the chest with the projectile. Caught completely unawares, she pitched to her knees, her hands going to her chest.

"What in the world...? Oh..."

She toppled over sideways, and lay still. Gambit grinned to himself, then broke his cover, sprinting back the way he had come, around to the back of the house. Once again, he used the anchor rope, this time shimmying all the way up to the edge of the roof, hauling himself over the parapet, quickly dropping into a crouch behind one of the massive chimneys.

"Watchdog Romeo, report!"

Gambit pulled the rope up quickly, coiling it up and stashing it in a dark corner where it was unlikely to be discovered. He remained crouched behind the chimney for a moment longer, listening out for the rooftop guard.

"This is Watchdog Sierra – Romeo is down, repeat, Romeo is down, and there is no sign of the intruder..."

Finding the coast was clear, Gambit knew he needed to move fast. He tied his bandana around his nose and mouth, narrowing his eyes as he considered his next move. A powerful leap upwards, and he caught the edge of the chimney, hauling himself up onto it, before he slipped down inside the flue. Bracing himself using his hands and feet, he held himself in place inside the pitch darkness of the chimney for a moment. Thankfully, it was the height of summer and the middle of the night, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would try to light a fire. At least, he hoped not...

He began to descend the chimney; the room he needed to access was on the second floor. He moved as silently as possible, the bandana around his nose and mouth preventing him from inhaling too much soot, though he still had to suppress the urge to cough or sneeze several times, keeping his eyes tightly closed as he moved. When he calculated that he had moved far enough down, he slowly blinked his eyes open, glancing down. Sure enough, he could just about make out a fireplace beneath him, in a darkened room. Thankfully, he had excellent night vision. He braced his arms and swung his legs downwards, allowing himself to drop into the hearth in a puff of ash and soot. He paused to quickly and quietly brush off as much loose soot as possible, shaking it out of his unruly hair. He was inside, and on the second floor.

"This is Watchdog Sierra, I am commencing a search of the ground floor area, he may be in the building."

"This is Watchdog Bravo, I will guard the Asset. Stay in radio contact."

Gambit withdrew the blowgun again, loading another projectile, as he crept to the door of the room. He listened carefully but could hear nothing outside. He reached up to try the handle... it was locked.

Laying aside the blowgun, he pulled a pouch of tools from his myriad pockets, and opened it up. Selecting two of his lock-picks, he set to work, and made short work of opening the recalcitrant door. Stowing his tools back inside his coat, he picked up the blowgun, and peered through a crack in the door. With the utmost stealth, he eased himself through the gap of the door, into the dark corridor beyond. He needed to move quickly; he had no doubt that he was trailing soot from the chimney and would be easily discovered if someone happened to turn on a light. Moving quickly but silently as only a Master Thief could, he sprinted to the end of the corridor, dropping down into a crouch. He risked a glance around the corner and pulled back quickly. There, at the end of the hall, was the room that contained the Asset – his target. Guarding that door was the biggest, burliest bodyguard Gambit had ever seen.

"De bigger dey are..." he breathed, raising the blowgun to his lips.

The guard gave a grunt of surprise as a projectile hit him in the chest; a second one followed, hitting him square in the centre of his forehead. His eyes rolled up in dismay, as he leant against the wall, and slid slowly to the floor. Gambit loaded another round of his ammunition, just in case, and, knowing he had little to fear now, he walked up to the door, stepping carefully over the fallen guard. He knelt down, picked the lock, and hesitated. The Asset might not be completely unguarded... nor was he likely to be taken unawares. Gambit decided speed was the key. He flung the door wide open and dived into the room with a forward somersault to avoid any countermeasures or weapons fire, vaulting to his feet and snapping a card into his hand, ready to throw it should the need arise.

His target, however, made no move against him, simply staring at him in mild surprise, taking in his filthy, soot-blackened appearance, tousled hair and glowing red eyes against his smut-stained face. Gambit advanced, slowly, as the two of them assessed each other, as if weighing their options. After a long moment, the target held up his hand, amusement written all over his face.

"Alright," he chuckled, at last, "you win. Stand down."

Gambit relaxed, dropping the card back into his pocket, as he sauntered across the room, deftly spinning the blowgun in his fingers as he did so. The target picked up a two-way radio, opening the channel.

"All units, stand down... it's over. As for you... drink?"

"Sure," Gambit helped himself to a measure of whiskey from a nearby decanter, pouring one for his target as well, handing over the glass, mindful not to get too much soot on it.

"Cheers," said the target, still smiling in obvious amusement at Gambit's dishevelled appearance.

"Santé," Gambit met his target's gaze evenly as they their glasses met with a soft clink, and both drank.

There was a noise at the door, and Gambit turned to see a familiar figure. Big, burly, and... blue.