Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made by this work.
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Catching a cab down to the harbor, using the GPS on his burner phone Victor came to the pier and hung a right just like the little voice was telling him. Carrying the brief case slung over his shoulder and smoking a cigarette, most of the locals would describe anyone walking like that as an idiot or a deadman, then again most of the locals knew his reputation and why he looked so casual. Lining the docks were cargo ships laden with goods from all around Asia and the Americas, if only those pirates that built this island nation could see their beloved Buccaneer Bay now, still going strong.
"You have reached your destination." The cheery voice chirped.
Having one last drag, he flicked the butt at a puddle where it died with an awful hiss. The sign read Johnson Brothers Trading Company, shaking his head at the easy insults that came to mind. The windows were blacked out with fresh newspaper, his keen eyes catching the fact that they were only three days old. Setting the case down and finding his pack of Marlboro's, he tapped one out for a fresh smoke as he considered just how to announce himself.
"You're late." A voice remarked out of a nearby alley.
Blowing smoke and seeing which way the breeze was blowing, it was coming off the bay so that would likely explain why he hadn't noticed the man sitting there in the shadows. He must have been waiting because breeze or no breeze he would have heard a door, taking up the case and heading off to the alley.
"What can I say, traffic was a bitch." Victor offered, eyeing the man in his three piece suit.
"Lets just get this over with." The suit said as he reached for the case.
"This is COD, cash on delivery. You don't get the case till I get my cash." Pulling back the case just enough to get his point across, he had to fight the temptation to clobber the smuck then and there.
"As we informed the broker who should have informed you, the payment will be done through wire transfer." Looking every kind of irritated, the suit held his hand out expectant of the case.
"Well, I'd like to renegotiate that part o' the deal seein' as I have what you want right here 'n I ain't got no qualms about walkin' with it if I don't go walkin' outta here with my money. Call me old fashion, but it seems these days accounts get seized all too easy." Victor explained, slowly burning his cigarette down to the filter before blowing smoke in the suit's face.
"You don't trust us?" The suit asked, making a show of opening his coat to reach for his phone nice and slow.
"Ain't no one I trust, and seein' as I just met you...I trust you even less than that." Flicking the butt to join the first, he waited as the man phoned the next rung on whatever ladder he was standing on.
Letting the man walk off a ways to have a private conversation, the distance did nothing to hide the harsh words or the questions the man was asking on the other end of that connection. Stall him, we're on our way. Chuckling quietly, he wondered just what they were going to be bringing, his cash or a fight. Right about now he'd settle for either, this bit of business had been keeping him from his little Lee long enough and he wanted to get it over with one way or another.
"We can wait inside, my associates will be along shortly for the...renegotiation." The suit explained, heading off to a steel fire door and pulling it open in invitation.
"Just as long as I get my money..." Said with an air of irritation and annoyance he wasn't really feeling, Victor followed him in deciding to play their game and see how it went.
Piled high were just about every shape and size of box and crate, some sitting on skids and others looking like they were just brought in for the local market. Most said Made in China or Taiwan, but here and there was the flag with those three little words that boasted of quality and all that jazz, Made in the USA. Heading on up a flight of stairs to a shipping office, a fresh pot of coffee was thrown on.
Time for two cups passed before a car came by out front, the warehouse doors thrown open to allow it on in. Having his last swallow and heading back down those stairs, the driver and passenger made three and everyone knew what came in threes. A crate became the bargaining table, a brief case laid out in offer and snapped open to show nice crisp Ben Franklins sitting there in neat little rows.
"You don't mind if I count?" Victor asked, laying down his own case.
"You don't mind if we verify the contents?" The main suit countered.
Gesturing as if to say Be my guest, he started checking the stacks of bills more by scent and the feel of them running over his thumb. By the time he got to fifty grand he ran out of stacks, eyeing the suits that were each taking a good look at the contents of that briefcase he'd gotten along with a fairly decent meal.
"Yer a little light, only half o' what was offered is here." Snapping the case shut and looking to the suits in question, he was almost disappointed to not see any of them reaching for the weapon bulges their tailoring did little to hide.
The main suit snapped the case shut, the other two flanking him with their hands held where everyone could see them. Wondering just which part of the negotiations this little stunt fell under, the way the Moe out of these three Stooges looked past him and a ways up was tell enough for what was coming.
"Ah fuck." Victor swore a heartbeat before the report of the high calibre round that tore through his chest.
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Sitting at the bar nursing a martini for a change of pace, Marie looked around for a certain Mister Lord whom was already fifteen minutes late. Dressed in Daisy Dukes, a pair of cowboy boots, and one of Logan's flannel shirts twisted and tied and twisted to size, already she had herself three drinks on someone else's dime. The locale was Remy's choice and that meant it was his turf, but already it beat the heck out of the clubs her more urban inclined friends had dragged her off to, the music at a level she could hear herself think and the drinks cheap and domestic.
Spotting her quarry walking in at last, she felt her breath catch seeing a different side of this Hustler. Wearing a crimson bandanna and shades, he had on a well worn brown leather jacket and looked like it had seen some use in its days. Dressed in a ratty old T and jeans, he was every girls bad boy crush rolled up into every kind of sexy. Finishing her drink in a swallow and ordering up a beer chaser, she was rolling the olive between her lips as he meandered through the crowd to find an empty stool beside her.
"I think we be of the same mind, we both be liking what we be seeing." Remy said as he took his seat, even with his shades on she could tell his eyes were roving over her.
"Only if you tell me there's a bike ta go with that get up Sugah." Marie purred, having long since come to appreciate a good ride.
"Oh, there be a bike, maybe I show it to you later, non?" Remy replied, leaning aside to order himself a Miller.
"Well, asshole blew his chance, so here I am." Letting go of a vexed breath, she took a long swig of beer trying to remember the anger at Logan that was now forgotten.
"To assholes then, their loss." Chuckling, Remy raised his beer to which Marie clinked hers against and had another slow sip.
Noticing her phone dashing across the bar, she picked it up to spot a message from the asshole in question that read Having fun? Her reply was an evil or mischievous smiley, and she was having a lot of fun after the rather robust apology each had given the other back at the hotel. Bait and switch was the name of the game now, and she was just letting Remy run with enough line before she set the hook.
"I do believe I see a pool table lookin' lonely." Marie remarked, pointing with her beer.
"I think maybe I should be careful, you hustle me pretty good the last time." Remy replied with mock hurt.
"Well what say we give Mister Lord a chance to win his money back." Marie teased, slipping from her barstool to saunter off to that lonely table.
She didn't have to look back to know he was following at just enough of a distance to enjoy the view, she'd seen the hunger in her own beau's eyes as she came strutting out of the dressing room doing a little shopping after all the kissing...and so much else that they'd done to make up. The memory of Logan wrapping his arms around her to slide his hands into her back pockets was enough encouragement to hurry up and hustle this Hustler, maybe go play some pool themselves. But if she was going to do something she was gonna do it right, and riling up the Wolverine was just a fringe benefit.
"Rack 'em up." Snatching a cue and chalking it up, she waited as he corralled the balls.
"Ladies always get the break when they be playing with moi." Remy reminded, finding a cue himself.
"I wonder why that is?" Her question was playful as she knew the answer by his smirk, standing there as he was admiring the view.
Putting a bit of force behind her cue, the crack that came as the balls scattered caught the ear of the patrons if the looks thrown their way were any indication. Some lingering, others outright staring, in their own time they went back to the conversations that had been interrupted or the game highlights playing on the flat screen. Sinking three before she missed, it was time to see if this N'awlin's boy was gonna get in the game or just throw another table.
"Maybe it be time to see the money, or we just playin' for fun?" Pulling a money clip ripe with cash, he peeled off five twenties and laid them out.
Not like she was carrying a purse, she saw just where he thought she might be keeping her cash and reached to tighten the twisted knot that kept her shirt in order before reaching to her back pocket and pulling out a neat little fold of bills. Dropping a hundred on the table and slipping the few she had left back, she threw him a wink at his disappointment.
"Bon." Eyeing the angles and thinking over his best shot, he let slip his shades just enough.
And there they were, no baby blues or deep brown eyes to drown in, but those red on black eyes that Logan told tale about only to do them an injustice by not telling how they seemed to glow with their own light. Caught marvelling at them, he threw her a wink and took his shot. The crack of balls breaking had her gasp, two sunk and another hanging so precariously close a breath might sink it. Finishing the reluctant one easily enough, his shot banked and took another beneath the felt. She had no question if he was playing for keeps now, not with the way he looked at her or the table.
"Well shit Sugah, glad I'm just givin' ya back yer cash." Marie laughed as another two fell.
Lining up his shot and looking at her from across the table, he held her gaze as he took it, the cue dancing before sending another to the fallen. Only the eight ball was left surrounded by her own, a solid among stripes. Considering his shot sipping on his beer, it was empty by the time he hunkered down ready to end it.
"What say we make this next shot interesting." Said as he leaned into take his shot, those luminous eyes were hers to admire with his shades hanging low.
"How interesting?" Asked as she reached for her fold of bills, the little shake of his head told her he wasn't thinking of cash.
"Tough shot, tricky shot. Maybe I sink it, you come back to my place for a drink and we get to know another better." Remy offered.
"Tempting as that is, how about a drink here 'n some more conversation and I'll sweeten it with a kiss." Moments after her counter she saw her phone once again dashing across the hardwood, this time she ignored it but gave her beau credit for not kicking down the door.
"That be fair, I accept. Now, just what does the lady want that I might have to offer?" Remy asked anew.
"How about you owe me a ride sometime, that's if I like what I see?" Marie asked, still curious to see this bike of his.
"Hasn't been a lady yet I've disappointed." Remy said smirking.
"Shut up and take yer shot, then we'll see." Laughing at herself for walking straight into that one, the shot was taken.
Looking like he put some English on it, it was a trick shot if she ever saw one and she'd seen enough down at the bar with Logan back when they were still just friends. Banking off a bunker and sliding in between two of her own balls, the eight was knocked clear down the table where a glancing blow by one of her scattered number sent it into the pocket, lock stock and barrel. Taking up the cash, he looked to the more enticing of his winnings.
"Now, about that kiss?" Remy asked.
"How about I see what ya got to offer first, just ta put me in the mood..." Marie purred, walking around the table to take him by the arm.
Throwing some of his winnings on the way past the bar to cover their bill, he lead the way out the gravel lot where many a fine piece of machinery was on show. It was a Harley and that was about all she knew, leave it to the gear heads to go on about the rest, all she needed to know was the feel of the horse power beneath her and the wind in her hair. Invited to sit down astraddle the seat, she looked up to Remy with a smile that wasn't meant for him.
"Nice ride LeBeau." Logan said in greeting, ghosting up silently behind them as they walked down the length of the bar's front.
Watching the reunion of old friends or whatever they called each other, Marie wondered just how it was going to go down. She had his ride, but Logan said Remy was a wily one always with a trick up his sleeve. Staring into those luminous eyes looking for a tell, he just threw her a wink and turned around all smiles.
"Won it in a card game..." Remy greeted.
"Is there anything ya don't go winnin' in a card game?" Logan asked, lighting up a cigar and with an eye to the hustler.
"I be thinking maybe this time it be a kiss, he be the Asshole non?" Remy asked with a look over his shoulder.
"'Fraid so Sugah." Said with some regret, everything she'd seen of the man left her liking him.
"Maybe some other time then. I say this Logan, you be learning the nice way to ask a man for a favour, just what can I help you with this time?" Remy asked as he turned to Logan.
But in that moment as she stared into those red on black eyes, Marie already recognized him checking the angles and figuring out his play. A slick sonovabitch, just like Logan said.
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Waking up feeling foggy, dying tended to do that to a fella. Three to the chest was normally the last bad day anyone ever had, for much of his life though that as just another Tuesday. Hacking hard to clear his lungs, drowning in his own blood was always an unpleasant feeling. The details of the deal were coming back now, the three Stooges and fifty grand worth of promises. Just like he expected, the cash and his case were gone, the only thing on...or in the table being the rounds that just ruined his shirt.
"Alright boys, hard way it is." Victor ground out, gathering the bullets as a souvenir.
The only scents around were theirs and they were old, but just like Vietnam taught him, he never stayed down that long. Digging his phone out of his trousers, it was just something disposable with one number programmed in it. Throwing it on speaker and finding his smokes, he lit one up and counted out the rings, one, two, three, four...
"We're on our way." Accented English answered.
Looking out into the harbor, a flash of light twice told him just where his ride was. Enjoying his smoke, it helped take the edge off that itchy feeling that came with bone fragments getting dealt with by his natural resilience. It was bullets and shrapnel that were the real pain in the ass, more than once killing an evening and a bottle of bourbon digging around for it with a pair of tweezers. Counting his blessings that all three had gone clean through, he had better ways to kill time tonight once he got a few answers.
Coming out of the black waters, the fishing boat was at home out there as any other ship and that had been the reason he'd chosen it. Setting ashore just long enough to throw down a plank for him to board, it joined the rest of the traffic out at the late hour, a mix of fishermen and smugglers and folks just taking people for one way tours of the bay.
"I take it our boys were nice and photogenic?" Victor asked of the man loaded not with a fishing rod but instead a camera sporting a telescopic lense.
"Yes, very photogenic." The cameraman said, pulling out a tablet to show his work.
"What about this fella?" Victor asked, fishing out one of the bullets for show.
A few swipes at the screen showed a fella that would stand out despite being dressed local as he was, carrying a case for a rod and reel along with a rather large tackle box. Smiling as the ugly mug was brought up into focus, it was nice to be on the right end of surveillance for a change.
"Alright, good work. Now all that's left is to take me to my friend and maybe I can get on with my evening."
Enjoying the late night cruise and the sea breeze blowing through his hair, thoughts of hopping islands somewhere more enjoyable came to mind. The time passed quick and soon they were at another dock, this one with a car waiting. Hitting Hightown in comfort and working hard at a buzz, by the time he got to one of his old safe houses he was feeling pretty good. The place was a mess and not in his usual way, a lot of toys freshly bought and put to good use. Sitting behind the setup of laptops, printers and shit the geek called burners or some kind, was the man he'd been sent to kill and for all intent and purposes to those in the need to know, had.
"Alright boys, time for me and my new friend here to have a chat. Make yerself scarce." Victor barked as he took a seat across from the suit of a different kind.
Waiting long enough until he knew they were alone, his own surveillance suit for this little hidey hole had gotten an upgrade since his last visit, sporting a couple of huge flat screens showing the men filing out of the exits and heading off. Wondering whatever happened to all those shitty little toy televisions that only came in black and white, with a shrug he imagined some folks in Lowtown watching 'em huddled in their shit hole apartments. The only shit that got wasted in Madripoor were people, one way or another.
"Ya told me what ya was worth a fortune ta the right folks. Ya got three chances to convince me, because I'm feeling myself a might cheated right now." Laying out the bullets, one, two, three, his new friend looked at them frozen for just as long as his heart must have stopped beating.
"The company I was working for is on the forefront of cutting edge robotics, this is stuff meant for military application. Hunter Kill robots, drone swarms, mechanical armour that gives a man the firepower of a platoon. It's the new arms race for the new millennium where the only cold wars are fought through economies and cyberspace." Pitching his sale like he'd probably planned it for the Chinese, the geek looked excited and hopeful to which Victor toppled one bullet over in answer.
"Okay, I know, nothing really ground breaking. But...what do you know about Mutants?" The geek asked after a sip of his beer to wet his lips.
"Enough." Need to know, no sense tipping his hand now just what Enough was.
"What if I told you...they figured out how to track Mutants. I'm not talking eye in the sky long distance...but," Pausing to stare hard at the next too bullets, he looked to consider his next words long and hard, "If they littered an urban area with a drone swarm geared to detect mutants, they could triangulate between them and send in the hounds. And if the dumb dogs got taken down, in come the armour."
Resting a finger on one of the bullets and tapping the tip, he pulled his finger away and got up to head over to the bar. Coming back with a couple of glasses and a bottle of Blue Label, he poured two healthy fingers each and had a swallow of his.
"You can't look at a headline and not see everyone going crazy over Mutants, Registration, the Cure, the Alcatraz Riot. We don't even know how many of them there are and we're a nation of just over three hundred million. Think of China, think of India, we're talking over a billion each." Reaching for the glass, with a trembling hand he took a long swallow staring at Victor for any sign of interest.
"So I take it this here is all China would need ta get some of this goin' fer themselves?" Waggling his finger at the copy of what he'd just handed over to the three Stooges, Victor saw his geek nodding enthusiastically at him.
"Well, yer right on one thing, folks sure would pay a fortune fer this. Funny thing is, can't help but think o' a sayin' I heard somewhere once. Better the devil you know." Toppling over another bullet, he looked at the man across from him who looked more panicked now.
"You can't be serious! They're going to get their hands on it sooner or later, just look at the Soviets and the bomb! History tells us that much! It might as well be us who cash in off it!"
Considering the last pitch, he had to agree that sooner or later it would come out, there were few people that could tell him anything about the Cold War he didn't know himself. So busy fighting Nazi's, the secrets for the bomb had been stolen and sold right out from under their noses in the kind of spy games uneasy allies played. Setting his glass down and tapping a finger to that last bullet thoughtfully, he looked to the man across from him.
"Right ya might be, yer wrong about one thing. I'm Canadian...so there's no we." Toppling the last bullet and leaning back in his chair, he watched and waited for the man to make his choice, fight or flight.
Showing a bit more spine than he'd give the man, with his trembling hand he reached for the Scotch and poured himself a glass four fingers deep. Drinking it slow and enjoying every sip, he sat there staring down at the briefcase that had sealed his fate.
"Can you make it quick?" Asked only as he found his glass empty, he finally found the fortitude to look back across the table.
"I think you've bought that much." Finding his feet and walking up behind him, taking his head in hand it was over with a quick, sharp jerk.
Taking his payment in hand, it might not be the hundred grand he was promised, but just like those commercials said...some things money just can't buy. Hauling the body over his shoulder wondering just how much this tour of the harbour would cost, finally he could get back to see his little Lee.
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"So, just what do you want to ask me?"
This moment had cost him a Mustang, getting chewed out by the closest thing he had to a boss over said Mustang, and had him taking the long way across the country from top to bottom because him and the TSA didn't have an understanding. Looking to the one good thing out of the hole mess, he saw she wanted answers as much as he did himself.
"I want ya to tell the truth fer once in yer life and tell me everything ya know about me, 'n why you lied about me not knowin' that women that's the first face I remember ever seein'." Said between clenched teeth trying to resist the urge to pin him between a couple of claws, Logan kept a hard gaze on Remy.
"Can't call them lies when I don't know shit about you homme, just that you came into my life 'n ask me to take you to the last place I ever swear I go back to, that island." Remy said calm and cool, meeting the hard gaze with one of his own.
Staring into those red on black eyes, into that face he knew from years before, he noticed the weathering of those years. The boy he remembered was gone, replaced with a man and it didn't help that he'd been hitting on Marie and hadn't stopped once since they pulled into his pad out of town. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he only had two people to ask these questions and it said something that the Hustler seemed like the one he'd get a straight answer out of rather than the man his gut told him was his brother, Victor.
"You came to me looking to get to the Island, the one place no one wants to go, least back in the day. All because you got a bone to pick with the man that bring most of us there, Creed." Remy said with a shrug, everything that happened there water under the bridge for how long ago it happened, all up until he saw how his guests jerked at the mention of that man.
"What's Victor got to do with this?" Logan asked, his gut telling him he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Like I say, he bring us there. Long story short, and I only find this out as it all go down, Creed be working for the man the army men call Stryker..." Having more to say, he paused seeing again the way the two across from him looked at another.
"Creed was working for Stryker?" Marie asked, joining the conversation with a stricken look on her face.
"More like your boyfriend and Creed have a falling out from the sound of things, Stryker use that to play them 'n get everything he want. Then he try and backstab Creed and well, good thing the reactor already be down for the fight that broke out." Remembering the destruction wrought by those three men, Remy shook his head and headed his bar.
Hiding his face in his hands and breathing deep as he struggled to remember, all that came were the fragments of memories of that face from another life. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Logan looked to see Marie sitting there worry and fear washing from her scent.
"I got this, you go call Lee 'n make sure she knows ta steer clear o' Victor." Leaning in for a kiss to her cheek, he hoped for once that loud mouth wouldn't be the stubborn pain in the ass she usually was.
"I'll get back ta Creed 'n whatever bone I had to pick with him cause I got my gut giving me an inkling of it, what the hell did Stryker want with you 'n the others?" Finding his way to the bar, he took the drink offered with a grateful tip of his head.
"Don't ask how he find us all, but we all be...different, each and every one. Don't ask how he did it, but he take that thing that make us...us, and he make his own Frankenstein with it. I think maybe you know him too, because you try and talk some sense into him. That be about the time that you, him and Creed bring the place down on top of us and give the kiddies a chance to run."
As many years he had to learn to trust his senses, he knew Remy wasn't lying and the memory of fleeing through the ruins and rubble was something he hadn't forgotten, right along with that face that had come back to haunt him. Those twisted memories came untangled, fragments mixed up with the life he'd lived since that day, seeing the forest for the trees.
"Victor made me think he killed the woman, except she wasn't dead. Why?" Logan asked feeling the first bit of fear for the answer.
"Sneaking around, I hear that conversation too. Stryker have her sister, he make her play a long con on you except she fall in love with you. But...family be family." Remy remarked, shaking his head in dismay.
"Just tell me the kid got out..." Setting his drink down, his stomach too twisted with pain for another swallow, Logan looked to Remy and got his first bit of good news with a solemn nod from the man.
"Strange as it be sounding homme, I hear a voice in my head say pretty much that, say that they all get out. Even think I remember hearing a helicopter sometime, but running for our lives be a busy time, neh?" Yet as he looked to the man expecting to see relief, Remy found him looking angrily and reaching for the drink anew.
"Sounds like a sonovabitch I knew and he's lucky he's dead, or I'd have some questions for him too." Logan ground out, wondering if his gut was right this time, wondering if Xavier had been lying to his face for those years he'd trusted him.
"Logan!"
Turning to see Marie rushing in clutching her phone worried, angry and scared all at once, he ran to her side. Dreading the worst knowing a bit more about that brother of his and the company he kept, the fight in the alley was still too fresh to forget the feeling of those claws tearing at his flesh and just how easily he overpowered him.
"Creed?" Logan asked, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
"No, I...I don't know who it is but he has Jubilee's phone..." Marie sputtered, her free hand clenched in a fist.
Taking the phone and listening, the first thing he heard was paying attention to those notes in the background that were there for him alone to hear, fearing the sound of their friend in pain instead he heard what sounded like the Beach Boys playing.
"Hello? Aloha? Did you just say the name I thought you said? That you Logan? You're not still mad about Three Mile Island are you?" The voice asked, a voice that his gut told him he knew.
"I want you to answer me one question, is Jubilee safe?" Logan asked in a low voice feeling an inch in his knuckles that promised violence.
"Is Jubilee safe? I'm the victim here, she bit off my ear! Well, it grew back but that's beside the point. Oh, hey...do you know if she uses the Thigh Master, because she should be their new spokesperson...woman, spokeswoman? Because man, I've never enjoyed having my neck broken as much as when she did it. They can use that on the box as a testimonial!"
"Just tell me she's safe." Logan ground out, letting go of an angry breath and having to punch the wall to keep from popping his claws.
"Yeah she's just a little tied up at the moment. I ran outta stuff for pina colada so I've been making mojitos, she's a lot more agreeable after a few drinks but let me tell you if she thinks I'm gonna fall for the 'But I gotta go pee' ploy she can just pee in the pool like everyone else."
"Let me speak to her." Throwing the phone to speaker, he found Marie's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Well, she's a little drunk, and she's a little gagged, how about I just send you a pic? Anyway, I gotta hang up because I think Creed just showed up. Gimmie a call sometime Logan, it's been years, we should do lunch. I know this awesome place in Texas that makes the best Chimichangas. Deadpool Out."
Standing frozen in a mix of disbelief, horror and an unsettling bit of fear, Logan looked to Marie and pulled her into his arms. Pressing his head against hers and whispering his promises that he'd find their friend no matter what and bring her home safe and sound, the beep of an incoming text interrupted him. Opening it and starting at it together, if the sheer level of crazy of her kidnapper wasn't enough seeing her tied up to a chair sitting in a sandbox dressed in a bikini took the cake.
"These phones got GPS don't they?" Logan asked, looking to fulfill his promise.
Snatching her phone back and working her magic, Marie channelled her inner Kitty using the very app that ghostly lady had written. Watching as the world spun and panned to the south pacific, the dot pointed to an expanse of empty ocean that crushed their hopes. All until their host reached in to zoom out a bit to take in the geography of distant islands.
"I don't know what kind of trouble your friend be in, but that be the only thing you find in Madripoor." Remy said.
"Can you get us there?" Logan asked.
"That depend, you got a plane? It not be the sort of place you just buy a ticket to." Said expecting the worst, instead Remy found himself staring at the two grinning madly at each other.
"Oh, we got a plane alright Sugah. I gotta make a call."
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