New York City, New York
The Past, Six Weeks Ago
Gambit was waiting in the freight elevator hanging suspended from the steel cage that served as the car ceiling. When Jesus trundled the pallet jack with the remainder of the servers into the car, Gambit dropped onto the janitor from above. The man's cry of surprise was muffled as Gambit wrapped his arm over Jesus' mouth. A punch to the kidneys collapsed the janitor's legs. Spinning the man around, Gambit seized Jesus by the front of his gray overalls and slammed him into the elevator wall, causing the steel wall to buckle. Gambit's forearm pressed into the janitor's throat, his other hand reached out and tore the front of Jesus' overalls, exposing his neck and a portion of his upper chest. Tattoos in black ink covered the majority of the janitor's skin below the collar.
With his face very close to the janitor's, Gambit whispered: "Dat's an awful lotta ink for a family man, Jesus. Makes me wonder what kinda family you must've been brung up in."
Jesus' eyes were wide and his head shook from side to side, though his mobility was limited. "Por favor –!" he choked. "N-no!"
Gambit pointed to a tattoo that spanned across the man's left pectoral. "From de looks of dis one, I'd say de Juárez...family. Y'can grunt if I'm right." Gambit pulled Jesus forward just as he brought his knee up into the man's gut. Jesus collapsed onto the floor, clutching his abdomen.
Jesus gasped and fell onto his knees, his body hunched over his injury. "No comprende –!"
Gambit seized Jesus by his overlong hair and yanked his head back. "You can cut de lingo, esse. No hablo your bullsh–crap."
Jesus continued to shake his head from side to side, his eyes screwed up tight. "No – no, you don't understand –," he began.
Gambit drew Jesus forward and hissed in his ear. "You're right. I don't. I don't get why it is that I fall f'r every sob story that I hear. Mebbe I'm just a sap? Mebbe I have de word 'sucker' written across my forehead? You'da thought I'd learnt by now." Gambit tossed Jesus across the car, sending him toppling over the servers on the pallet jack.
Jesus fell onto his back, his face an expression of misery. His hands were raised in surrender, but slowly he processed Gambit's words and lowered his arms. He looked at Gambit, recognition dawning on him. "R-robert?" he stuttered, his face written over with shock.
The staff strapped to Gambit's thigh was in two pieces. He loosed it from its holster, snapped the two pieces together in one smooth motion and telescoped the staff to its full length. He pressed one end of it against the janitor's chest. "Guess neither of us is what we seemed, enh, amigo? Your buddies wit' de heavy artillery up at de loading dock gonna be waitin'. Why don't we go up an' meet 'em?"
Jesus raised his hands again, beseechingly. "Please, no. Listen to me, Robert. I – I didn't have a choice! They'll kill me! They'll kill my – my family!"
"Sure. Right, one big happy family," Gambit said dryly. He turned and reached to the freight elevator controls. "Forgive my lack of faith in you. But there's five gang-bangers up there sportin' de same bad taste in body art as you. Allow me t'return their wayward son."
Jesus grabbed the end of Gambit's staff. "I'm telling you the truth, I swear! You think it's so easy to get out – to get out of the life? You don't even know –."
"I know more'n you think," Gambit turned on him and shoved the staff into Jesus' chest a little harder. Gambit's face was still masked, his eyes shaded, but Jesus shrank back at the level of hostility in the thief's voice.
"I didn't know what else to do! I did what I could. I sent – I sent those letters I found in the recycling. The ones meant for the shredder. I tried to let someone, anyone, know what was going on! But no one came!" Jesus' voice had raised an octave in his panic. "I tried, I swear! If they find out I'm a rat, I'll be dead!"
Gambit hesitated, his hand over the lever that would close the freight elevator's doors. Jesus seemed to be openly crying now. "They'll kill her. They'll kill my kid. They'll take her head off like they do the others."
Gambit relented his pressure on the staff.
Jesus continued: "I went to county lockup. I got sober – honest. What I did...what I did was unforgivable. I made a terrible mistake. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."
Gambit stared at the man as Jesus held the rising welt on his chest where the staff had pressed against his heart. Jesus was sitting on the floor, his legs sprawled out before him and his head lowered. He breathed heavily. Gambit wondered that anyone would be able to fake that kind of misery. Gambit let out the breath he'd been holding. "You sent de memo...?" he asked finally. "De one about de money laundering?"
Jesus dared to raise his head. "Y–yes...? You know about it?"
Gambit lowered his arms to his sides. He nodded once. "Someone got your message. Someone did come. Me."
Jesus rubbed a shaking hand across his damp face. "It's too late," he said miserably. "They're here for the data. They're using me to get it, to prove myself. And I'll never get out of the life. Too late..."
Gambit crossed over to the janitor and pulled him up by the arm. "Better late than never," Gambit told him. "C'mon."
"Where are we going?" Jesus asked, stumbling after Gambit and out of the elevator.
"Back to de server room," Gambit told him. The two reentered the office area and returned to the server room. Once inside, Gambit picked up a package of zip ties used to bundle cables.
"Gimme your wrist," he told the janitor.
"What? Why?" Jesus asked as Gambit took him by the arm. Gambit quickly bound the man's wrist to the empty server rack. "H-hey!"
"Pop a squat," Gambit told him and took the man's other wrist. "If anyone asks, I got de jump on you and left y'here." Gambit looped several more of the plastic zip ties around the man's wrists, pinning him to the server rack. Jesus relented and sat on the floor, his back against the rack. Gambit crouched beside him.
"Where's your wife and kid?" Gambit asked.
Jesus shook his head. "The Bronx. But...she's not my wife. I wasn't lying when I said I sent all my money back home. I send it t'her. For the kid...my girl. But she don't want nothing to do with me. I made a mistake."
Gambit stood. "All right. Let me get your compadres upstairs sorted out and get de proper authorities here. I'll have my boss pull de strings for you and your girl. Sit tight."
Gambit returned to the elevator, sending a text message to Denti as he did. He retrieved a playing card from the pouch at his belt, charged it slowly and left it on top of the stack of servers on the pallet jack. He pressed the button to send the elevator up one flight. The loud buzz that signaled the closing of the large metal doors sounded and Gambit stepped off the elevator. As the doors banged closed, he was off like a shot towards the metal staircase. Gambit took the first set of stairs in two bounds, touching down on the first landing and turning to dash up the second set. He raced the elevator up to the next floor where it was announcing its arrival. He dashed down a short utility hall to a door leading to shipping and receiving. There was a long rectangular reinforced window in the steel door so that people could see whether or not someone was exiting. Through the window, Gambit could spy the five men waiting in the shipping and receiving room. Four of them were turning to face the elevator.
"'Bout time," one of them said loudly.
When the men were distracted by the opening elevator, Gambit slipped through the door and into the large open room. Along the walls were wooden pallets with boxes of paper, cleaning products, and other supplies for the building. The pallets were placed well over a foot from the walls, as instructed by the fire marshal.
At least something follows regulations, Gambit thought to himself as he passed through the space between the stacks of boxes and the wall. The large metal door to the loading dock had been hauled open. One man stood on the dock with the servers, waiting for the truck from Iron Mountain. He was carrying a weapon, a gun. It seemed they were planning on hijacking the Iron Mountain truck. Luckily, that truck would never come. As Gambit neared the door, he could peer between the stacks of boxes. He saw Jim, the facilities manager, lying on his stomach, dead on the floor. He had been shot in the head. Blood pooled on the concrete.
Zut, Gambit thought, his mind going dark. An innocent civilian was dead on his watch. Someone would pay now, and Gambit would feel guilty later. He crept forward, making his way towards the man at the dock.
By this time, the elevator doors had opened and the four gang members had gathered.
"Where the fuck is Jesus?" one of the men asked, looking into the elevator.
"What's that?" asked another man, pointing at the glowing card.
Gambit was now at the loading dock door, hiding just beside the opening. The man on the dock was slowly wandering towards him, made curious by the commentary from the elevator. "Que pasa?" the gang member called.
Three..two...one, Gambit counted silently just as the gunman from the dock passed him. In the elevator, Gambit's charged card detonated, sending two men flying into the walls of the elevator car. The other two fell back, skidding across the smooth cement floor on their backs. Gambit seized the gunman from behind, twisting the weapon from the man's grip. The gun fired into the ceiling before Gambit could pull it away. He flipped the man onto his back, twisting the gang member's gun arm as he did. Gambit could feel the bone break in the man's arm as he forcefully hit the ground. The man screamed out in pain. Gambit silenced him with a kick to the jaw. Blood spattered across the garage floor.
Two of the gang members were scrambling to their feet, alerted by the gunfire. One raised his own firearm in Gambit's direction. Gambit responded by raising and firing the gun he'd claimed. The shot went wide, but Gambit had let a charge flow through the grip into the chamber and into the fired round. The resulting explosion as the charged bullet struck the back wall was impressive. The wall exploded outwards in a blast of pink and white energy. The gang member was thrown forward several yards and did not get up again. Chunks of broken concrete and cinderblock rained down around his still form.
Gambit looked at the handgun, impressed with himself. "Alors là, that was cool. Mebbe I oughta get me one of these?"
Gambit ducked and dashed aside as gunfire was returned from within the freight elevator. Apparently, his card trick was not enough to put down the remaining gang members. Gambit disappeared behind a stack of boxes. A bullet whizzed past his skull, striking the corner of the box of paper he was hiding behind. Gambit grinned to himself. And he had thought this job wasn't going to be exciting! He was about to reappear and return fire (he was pretty enthusiastic to have another chance to make a big boom) when he realized the room had gone silent. The last echoes of gunfire from the surrounding cavernous room had faded. With the gun raised and his back pressed to the stack of boxes, he raised himself to peer into the room. Tendrils of smoke were clearing, but otherwise there was no movement. In addition to Jim's body, Gambit counted three unconscious figures on the garage floor, one other was laying half in and half out of the elevator.
Where's number five? Gambit wondered. He began to creep along the wall, gun in one hand, staff in the other. He paused at each stack of boxes to glance through the spaces between them and into the room. Still, there was nothing. Gambit thought perhaps the last gang member had fled. He cautiously approached the freight elevator, finally detaching himself from the cover of the storage boxes. He could see one man in the elevator. The servers had been destroyed.
So much for data recovery, Gambit thought grimly and frowned.
He caught a flash of moment from the corner of his eye, turned, and fired. Cardboard and wood detonated in a flash as a year's supply of toilet paper rocketed into the air like streamers of fire. The remaining gang member was caught in a blaze of charged toilet paper, windmilling his arms and screaming. Gambit caught him in the throat with his staff as the man ran past, and the gang member dropped to the ground, gagging. He was rendered unconscious by a blow to the head.
Gambit stuck the firearm behind his back into the waistband of his suit and approached one of the fallen gang members. He removed another playing card from his pouch as well as a pen. He collapsed his staff and tucked it under his arm. Holding the card in one hand he wrote a note on it, crouched, and stuck the card to the sweat on the unconscious man's forehead. The card read: "Carl. Your wellcome." Gambit considered the card for a moment, unstuck it from the man's head and added an apostrophe and an 'E' to 'your,' and then pressed the card back into place.
"See, and Kitty says I can't spell," Gambit said to the unconscious man.
He was about to stand when he heard a voice speak from behind him: "Drop your weapons."
Gambit froze, then slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder. In the center of the room was a man. Gambit could see his dark form silhouetted against the light falling from the open garage door. That lithe form had a pair of short stubby devil horns springing from his forehead. Gambit relaxed his shoulders and exhaled in relief.
Gambit stood and turned. "Hey, Darede –," he began just as the man's arm shot out, releasing a white billy club from his grip as he did so. Gambit didn't get to finish his greeting as he instinctively ducked and the billy club struck the wall behind his head. As Gambit moved to stand again, the billy club rebounded off the wall and struck him hard in the jaw. Gambit spun with the force of the blow, his hand raised to grip his aching jaw. He made a muffled sound of pain as the metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.
Daredevil was in motion, flying towards him with the other half of his club in hand. As it swung towards him, Gambit managed to smack it away with his shortened staff at the last moment. He twisted aside as Daredevil touched down beside him. Daredevil fell into a crouch, hoping to sweep Gambit's legs from beneath him with a well-placed kick. Gambit flipped backwards, landing several yards away. He raised his hand hoping to wave Daredevil off.
"You stupid jerk! I think you broke my teeth!" he attempted to say, but what came out instead was a half-slurred mumble and yet more blood. He yanked his mask down from his face. Not that it did Gambit any good, Daredevil wouldn't recognize his face by sight.
"I didn't quite catch that," Daredevil said lightly as he moved to attack. "Come again?"
Gambit growled and fell back into a defensive crouch as Daredevil began to whip his club into a spin by its cord. The two men circled one another. Daredevil pursued his attack and Gambit gave up ground. He attempted to make a break for the open garage door, not wanting to engage Daredevil any further. Daredevil leapt and Gambit caught him by the arms. Gambit was borne to the ground, but he used Daredevil's momentum to throw the man over his head. Daredevil twisted and managed to land on his hands and feet like a cat. Gambit threw himself forward to somersault across the floor. Once on his feet again, he bolted for the steel door to the utility hall. Sensing another attack, he ducked and the billy club whipped over his head, swung by its cord. He narrowly missed being wrapped in Daredevil's trap.
Gambit dashed through the door and into the hall, taking to the stairs. Daredevil was hard on his heels. Gambit continued up several flights of stairs, taking them in bounds and using the handrail to launch himself upwards. He saw he was now on the sixth floor. Gambit threw himself at the door, yanked it open, and dashed into the office area. He quickly turned the corner knowing there was a fire extinguisher just next to the door to the stairwell. He seized it and turned just as Daredevil burst through the steel door. Gambit pulled the pin in the extinguisher's handle and blasted Daredevil in the face with the resulting spray of foam. Daredevil recoiled, drawing in a lungful of fire retardant. Gambit swung the fire extinguisher and threw it at Daredevil. There was a satisfying grunt as the extinguisher caught Daredevil in the gut. Gambit turned and dashed down the hall of cubicles towards the opposite side of the floor. Daredevil managed to recover and stumble after him.
"Oo mo-romn...!" Gambit cursed. "Schtmp chryung t'beam muh uck!"
"'Beam you up'?" Daredevil repeated.
With a snarl, Gambit seized a printer cart as he ran past and tossed it into Daredevil's path. Daredevil vaulted the tumbling cart and printer as Gambit stumbled to catch himself against the wall. He had made it across the expanse of the floor towards the emergency exit. Gambit propelled himself from the wall and was about to dash to the exit when the door was thrown open.
"Freeze!" Solomon shouted and aimed his sidearm at Gambit's face.
Gambit drew up short and raised his hands. "Sol!" he tried to shout.
Daredevil swung his arm and the billy club's cord wrapped itself around Sol's wrists. With a jerk, Daredevil yanked Solomon forward and tossed his second club, catching the security guard in the forehead. Solomon crashed face-first to the carpet as Gambit spun on Daredevil. Of course, Daredevil was blind and all he could sense was a man aiming a gun in his direction. He had no clue that he'd just attacked and wounded a civilian. Gambit swung his fist and Daredevil threw himself backward to avoid the blow. The heel of Gambit's hand smashed down on the wall, triggering the fire alarm he was aiming for. The building exploded with sound and flashing light. Daredevil clutched his hands to his sensitive ears, shouting with pain.
Gambit leapt over the prone figure of the security guard, throwing a playing card at the huge plate-glass window as he did so. The window exploded outward and Gambit flew through it. As he passed through the flying glass he turned mid-air, raising his collapsed staff over his head. He clicked the mechanism to telescope it to its full length in the window well. The staff lodged itself snugly into the window well and as gravity took hold of Gambit, he used his other hand to clip a grappling line to the middle of the staff. The other end of the line was attached to the belt at his waist. It all happened in a matter of seconds, with Gambit twisting through the air along with flying glass and debris. The line spun out from his belt and he slowed his descent, rebounding once with his feet off the side of the building, and flipping himself like an Olympic diver towards the street below.
Below him, police and emergency vehicles were arriving with their strobing red and blue lights and blaring sirens. Above him, the entire NABC building was flashing with blueish white light as the alarms continued to sound. Gambit's soaring arc took him over the large construction container positioned on the street alongside the backhoe. He dropped into it with a resonant clang and fell into a crouch. For a moment, he rested with his hand against the inside wall of the container, trying to catch his breath. The flashing red and blue lights of police vehicles surrounded him. He could hear the sound of running feet as the firefighters stormed the building.
Gambit reached above him to grip the edge of the container. He pulled himself upward, threw one arm over the lip and then the other. Looking around, he saw a black SUV pull in front of NABC with a soft screech of tires. The driver's side door opened and the tall, square figure of Carl Denti unfolded himself form the interior. Other black cars were arriving. Figures dressed in dark blue vests with the gold letters 'FBI' emblazoned on the back began spilling from the vehicles. They filed toward the bank building. Gambit pulled a leg over the side of the trash container and tumbled out into the street, all his athletic grace momentarily spent. He leaned his rump against the storage container, head down, hands on his knees. Denti approached him and put a stabilizing hand to Gambit's shoulder.
"You're hurt," Denti said, regarding Gambit's bleeding face.
"Guk," Gambit replied through swollen lips.
Denti reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and extracted a handkerchief. He offered it to Gambit, who took it and pressed it to his bleeding mouth.
"What happened?" Denti asked.
Gambit inhaled and righted himself. "Yer whistleblower is in de basement tied to a server rack," Gambit tried to tell him though his speech was slurred like a drunk's. Denti maintained his hold on Gambit's shoulder and listened carefully and silently. He nodded slowly.
"Bit of a misunderstandin'," Gambit continued. "Might've roughed him up some. There's a security guard up on de sixth. He's hurt. Five thugs in de shipping room, out cold...one man, dead."
"What happened to your face?" Denti asked.
"Daredevil. Another misunderstandin'. Apparently, he mistook me f'r a criminal. Go figure."
"Get yourself cleaned up," Denti told him and handed him the keys to his SUV. "You look done in. Get some rest. I'll debrief you in the morning."
Gambit's fingers closed over the car keys. He looked at Denti for a heartbeat. Finally, he nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled.
Denti nodded over his shoulder to the black SUV. "Go on. I can handle this from here."
Gambit moved towards the vehicle and turned to watch as Denti began to take control of the situation, even though he had no legal jurisdiction to do so. Gambit wondered what quality a man possessed that could give him the confidence and authority to just walk into any situation and take over. He had mild awe and a definite sense of appreciation for men like that; Cyclops had that quality, as did his own father, Jean-Luc. Meanwhile, any situation Gambit walked into seemed to collapse into spontaneous insanity.
He climbed into the vehicle and pulled the door closed, sealing himself in sudden luxurious silence. Gambit started the SUV and put it into reverse, steering himself away from the cacophony of NABC, the FBI, the police, and fire department. He drove himself back towards New York's East Side. As he drove, he attempted to suppress angry thoughts directed at Daredevil.
"Gosh darned dang-blasted son of a mother Daredevil," he ranted to himself, but alas, it didn't give him the satisfaction of a decent cussing-out. "No good meddling nosy jerk-faced jerk!"
Gambit touched the side of his face and winced. Gosh darn it if he had to go to the dentist. He hated the dentist. He'd send Matt Murdock his medical bills. Gambit pulled the SUV into the parking garage beneath his apartment building. His parking spot was intended for a motorcycle, not a giant black Cadillac.
"Frick this," Gambit thought and steered the vehicle into the narrow space. He was looking forward to a hot shower and his bed. His housekeeper would have had the place perfectly clean, the bed made, the bathroom pristine. Whatever cleaner she used smelled nice. It contained homeopathic aromatherapy, she'd told him once. He could already feel the knots in his neck untying themselves. He leaned his head back into the leather headrest and sighed. All he was attempting, since the start of Lent, was to do the right thing. He was giving up the things that were bad for him. His intentions were good.
"De road t'hell," Gambit muttered and pulled himself from the vehicle.
He punched the button to call the elevator. He hoped it was late enough that no one would see him in the state he was in, wearing a dark black form-fitted suit like some unimaginative criminal (what, no pink?) and bleeding profusely from the mouth. The elevator arrived and he stepped inside. Soft bland music played as he rode the elevator car to his floor. The doors rolled open and he stepped into the hall. The plush carpeting swallowed his footfalls. Gambit took out his phone. While he fumbled for it, he realized he was still carrying the firearm. He grunted, annoyed with himself. Gambit began typing a text to Denti to tell him where he could pick up his SUV. He unlocked and opened the door to his apartment. He walked into the apartment and glanced up from composing his text. Gambit saw the spray of blood across the fabric of his couch; a body was sprawled lifeless on the decorative rug. Gambit came to a sudden halt and blinked slowly as the sensation of disembodied disassociation washed over him. Gambit looked down to see himself dead in his own living room.
~ oOo ~
Next time: Just when things couldn't get worse for our young hero...they do.