Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.
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A crowd was just a riot waiting to happen, all it took was something to scare the herd, fight or flight a question asked and answered by what everyone else was doing. Moving men as pawns across his board, Police Chief Tai had marshalled the manpower under him in anticipation of trouble. The Princess Bar was a powder keg most nights, and most nights he left the locals to police themselves accordingly, always making an example now and again just to make his expectations were known.
That was the reason the police were on scene before the fire crews, he'd been expecting a fight, one he had planned to keep from spilling out into the streets. Yet that many police in one place was something that wouldn't go unnoticed, the gangs and every other opportunistic criminal would take advantage of that opening. He counted on that too, counted on them to look that one move ahead without any regard for what happened next, to not notice the five he already had in play.
He knew the players and their reputations, he had studied their moves over the years to anticipate just how they'd react. He took pieces off the board with trumped up charges and paperwork that would go missing come the morning, a night in the holding cell preferable to having them in play. His was a game not meant for pawns, in his mind he saw the troublesome pieces with the faces he knew, tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor.
"Rich man, poor man, beggar man..."
Caught in a rhyme he'd learnt as a child, Tai realized me must have been more irritated with how things had played out than he previously thought. Talking to himself wasn't something he did, at least not unintentionally, there were always those times he would feign such a slip as to pass a warning or a threat with an air of innocence.
"Thief." Tai finished, knowing the voice of who had joined him.
Red on black eyes met his, just one more surprise after another, but at the end of the day he was just another regular of the Princess Bar that the fire crews strove to save. Tai had done his part in that regard too, a word with Rose Wu herself all it took to get those who might have some innocence left to them out of harms way. But again it had been a fight he had anticipated, not an explosion, and to his relief the only bodies yet recovered from the wreckage had been those of the Hand Ninja.
"If you were looking for a drink Mister LeBeau, I would advise going elsewhere."
The thief wasn't alone, and though she held his arm, the body language was all wrong to be another of his conquests. That she looked worried hinted at a story he might like to hear, her eyes held by the flames that stubbornly burned despite the fire crews efforts, eyes that fell on the white sheets that covered the dead. He had a question on his lips when she surprised him, and however pleasant it would prove to be he was growing weary of them.
"Is anybody needing help? I'm a paramedic."
American by her accent, while he might not have an ear for them as some did, that made the second he had run into in as many hours. His question could wait until he was sure, it could wait until after he had returned order to the streets of Lowtown, and it could wait until after she had proven her worth.
"By all means, help. And Mister LeBeau, stay close to your friend."
Hers was a face it would be hard to forget, so he let her go in the company of another who was impossible to ignore. So he put them out of his mind and returned to task, overseeing the saving of the Princess Bar. With one hand he kept the crowds attention firmly fixed just where he wanted it, they had no reason to see what he did with his other, that was the trick as they said.
Peace and order in Madripoor was an illusion, and he was the only show in town, every surprise something he had to incorporate into the act. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket, he dabbed at the sweat on his brow, blaming it on the heat from fire. It wouldn't be long before his phone would ring, a call he anticipated to come demanding answers he didn't yet have himself. But the pieces were still in play, so he'd watch them and look for the meaning in their actions.
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Smoke, sirens, and gun oil told a story on the breeze, but there were other scents carried with the wind that said something else, they were close. They were stuck with the rest of the traffic that wasn't going anywhere fast, everything from auto-rickshaws to old lumbering trucks and the cars of the elite slumming it in Lowtown.
"You two go on to this Princess Bar, check things out."
His Rogue looked ready to tell him off then and there, truth be told running off on his own had gotten them in this mess in the first place. But if LeBeau was right, then Logan knew he might go running into some faces that he'd know but couldn't place, faces he had history with. And so far all his history brought was trouble, from Stryker to Creed to some nut abducting Jubilee. That was hours ago with the Pacific still standing between them, an eternity for all sort of bad to happen, and it was strange to think that he took some consolation in knowing Creed had already been knocking at that door.
Climbing out with all the rest that knew walking was the way to go, his last look at Marie saw her leaving arm in arm with Remy. Something jealous growled in the early morning, but by the pain of his claws piercing between his knuckles, Logan knew that jealous thing was him. Just maybe when this was all over he could start getting out of the red, owing that little lady a lifetime of debts that had been piling up, for now though this was still a mission of mercy to bring one of theirs home.
Catching the scent again, it was hours old and hidden under the stench of the place, buried under the sweat of so many unwashed bodies and all the garbage that piled up waiting for some haphazard collection. He found it strongest in the alley, and that brought back some painful memories that helped him hone in on the trail. His brother had been here and he wasn't alone.
Reaching to find his burner phone, something bought local, Remy was no stranger here and had fixed them up on his own dime. Full charge and a strong signal, she was just a call away if he got into trouble, just a call away to keep him from taking a dive off the deep end like he already had. Stashing it and breathing deep the scent, Jubilee was there too right along with a third that whispered with a voice he'd heard back in New Orleans.
Running a hand along a wall where the trail stopped, a look up saw just where it lead, claw marks torn into the brick in places, nothing so graceful as clawing his way up as tearing for purchase as if he was burdened by some injury or...
"Carrying someone." Logan mused.
Popping claws with that distinctive snikt, the four stories of the old low-rise were scaled in short order. In a city as cramped as this where space came at a premium, it wasn't that much a surprise to see folks making use of the roof, washing laundry and children alike in basins of bathwater. One lady looked to be fixing her clothes line when she caught his eye, took a look at his claws that vanished with a flex of his muscles.
She had an earful for him, and though he couldn't tell what she was speaking, he caught the jist of it by just how angry she was over having to wash her clothes again. Slipping her a little something for her trouble, that quieted her plenty quick, and earned him a finger pointed off to the next roof.
"Much obliged." Logan grunted.
The kids these days called it Parkour, and just maybe if the Danger Room wasn't what it was then he would have had to get after them for climbing all over the mansion like a troop of baboons. As it was it became just another kind of training, one his muscles found easy to pick up.
With the wind in his hair and the scent running on ahead, the beast was out for a run, leaping from rooftop to fire escape. Something of an apartment building blocked his path and the only way to go was up, told by the loping claw marks that dug through the brick and mortar. Making his way to the top, there were signs of a fight he hadn't expected to see in this flight through the city, but the pieces were slowly coming together.
Creed had been here and he hadn't been alone, but out of the carnage, he sure had left alone. Except that was a bit of a lie as he found her scent, Jubilee, stinking of the kind of fatigue she got from showing off too much with those pafs of hers. She'd been here, laid down in some corner, and here...
"Back to back..." Logan whispered, the words bringing a mix of desperation and exhilaration.
Creed made his stand, and by the blood stains that spread before him, a whole mess of folks got on his bad side. That was something he was familiar with, but what stuck out in particular was something he hadn't expected. In beneath the blood lust, the stench of rage and everything else he knew as only he could, there was the aroma that told of another jealous beast.
It made him think of Marie, his Rogue, and the kind of red he saw at the thought of anyone ever would raising a hand against her. Creed had been fighting for his life as much as he had been protecting Jubilee, and for that twisted knot of memories and everything Remy had said, it didn't mesh up with the man whose shadow he stood in looking at the pools of blood that told of bodies left to rot.
The trail had gone cold, north, south, east or west...he didn't know which way to go as he looked out over Lowtown and as far as Hightown. The sun was coming up over the ocean, a line of red on the horizon that struck him as ominous. His brother was out there somewhere with Jubilee, and she must have gotten herself into a mess of trouble if she had gotten desperate enough to cut loose.
The smoke and sirens made sense now, there would be answers back at the Princess Bar. Digging out his phone and making a call, every ring it went unanswered had his beast biting at the bit and ready to charge on off the way he'd come, until finally another answered it.
"Logan? Your lady friend, she be truly something neh? She be helping with the injured, maybe you should get back here homme, we make with the introductions?" Remy greeted, sounding genuinely impressed.
"She's one in a million." Logan grunted in grudging acceptance of the compliment.
Hanging up and taking one last walk around the roof top that had seen the bloody battle, the only question he had left was just where the hell had those bodies gone? The door was locked, the chain that kept it shut rusted and old. No one had been up here recent that hadn't climbed on up. The crimson bleeding on the horizon turned more ominous, popping a claw and taking his leave down the stairwell.
It all started at the Princess Bar, right where his Rogue was, the red washing over him like the dawn as he felt some very real fear for her life.
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"What happen here Rose?"
The fires were out, but the smoke still hung in the air and the ash sullied everything, clung to his sweaty brow and dusted his hair. Remy had followed her into what had been just talk the last time he had been by for a drink, a true dining hall for the Princess Bar, just a touch of class to put her own mark on the place.
He let his question hang, watching her find something that had somehow survived, a painting from all those years before. It lay in the filth, the frame singed and burnt , but as she picked it up it was a the story of her life played out in paint. The smile was the same, maybe weathered, and in those eyes the painter had captured so well he saw the little sassy hellcat the stories told of. It ran in the family sure enough, her granddaughter a lady to be toyed with at your own peril, and that had made those few nights together all the more risque.
Helping her with it, they found a place to rest it in defiance of the destruction, Rose was a lady who couldn't be kept down. Her dream would rise from the ashes again, this Remy knew with a certainty, and just maybe this time he'd have his chance to entertain a lady over dinner and some dancing. Weary footsteps announced another, the scraping of a chair coming before a mess of cursing as it broke, a glance to his left seeing Logan's lady love picking herself up off the floor.
"I owe you a drink and a meal, and from the look of how ragged you are, a bed." Rose said as she looked on the young lady.
"Can I have all three at once?" Marie asked with a deprecating laugh.
The old bones of the bar had weathered the worst of it mostly untouched, when they opened come the awaiting evening the drinks would be paid for by the sweat of the brow, by all the moping that had to be done and whatever work a patron could provide. The fights the place had seen over the years had set the rules in stone, you clean up after your own mess. There were nights he had spent in the kitchen, bringing the taste of home just to make up for the night before.
Rose bulled her way up the stairs, stomping along and pausing now and again to give a kick to a step that would need some work. Remy followed after with Marie, leading her past every loose board on graceful feet. Doors were thrown open to air out the rooms, the further from the fire they got the more untouched the Princess Bar was.
Finally one was thrown open, and Remy knew the honour being given to the lady who had worked so hard to save lives with all the others. It was Rose's own room, looking every bit a boudoir as she welcomed them.
"Pick your poison and have a bath child, there's probably something in my closet that will fit you." Rose said with a flourish as she welcomed them in.
Biting her tongue against her disbelief that anything this woman wore would fit her, Marie found a bottle of Jack and took her leave. The temptation was there, but as Remy looked to the door of the bath it closed in his face, a tired smile the last he saw of Logan's lady. It was enough to imagine her stripping beyond that door as the tub filled, imagine her slipping beneath the steamy water to soak and sip at the bottle. It was fuel for the fire he'd keep burning, because if Logan ever fell out of her good graces again, then he would be there whispering in her ear.
For now though he had his introduction to prepare for, looking among the photos that hung on the walls and littered the vanity. Some part of him wished he could have known Rose back then, because the photos told of a lady who enjoyed the trouble he got into.
He saw faces he knew, O'Donnell in one standing before the Princess Bar in a white suit to welcome patrons, Rose on his shoulder looking divine. Archie stood in another in front of a plane, the very one Remy had won in a card game years later. And of course there he was, the man of many names, Logan himself. Picking up one, the man stood in a three piece suit, sporting an eyepatch with a tommy gun slung over his shoulder as he enjoyed a cigar.
"You always found your way to those." Rose clucked, holding up a dress against herself.
"What can I say, the man, he intrigue me?" Remy said in reply, placing it back down with the rest.
Taking up the receiver of an old ornate rotary phone, Rose went back to ignoring him as she called to the kitchen. It was busy what with feeding the fire crew that had saved what was more than her livelihood, it was her home that had memories that were made from the stories she'd been told sitting on the knees of men before that had turned to something less innocent than the child she had been back then. Calling up dinner for them, she found a robe and vanished into the bath to see to her guest.
Loud footsteps out in the hall told of that reunion coming sooner than he expected, and with a smile to the bath, Remy thought it was perfect that Rose was occupied. Logan let himself in, he looked a man driven and ready for a fight, but as his eyes fell on the room he froze with his hand gripping the doorknob like a drowning man clinging to the wreckage of a shipwreck.
Another door opened, and as Rose took a step beyond the threshold she looked on a man she hadn't seen in all the years since she had been that beauty in the photos. It was torment not to sneak a peek at the lady in the bath, but Remy played the gentleman and watched the reunion play out.
"Logan..." Rose gasped, breathless as she looked at him.
As if her voice had been a key to the shackles that bound him there at the door, Logan took a step in and soon found himself walking about looking at all the photos. Wet feet slapping over tile announced Marie, and in a blur of terrycloth she rushed at her Mister in his moment of need. Logan wasn't a man Remy had expected ever to see faint, and even then the word felt wrong as he played with it. But where there had been one lady, now two were at his side, calling his name over and over in their worry.
"I leave him to you, maybe I go earn my keep down in the kitchen, neh?" Remy said, surely unheard as he closed the door.
There were things that were dangerous to know, and then there were people, and Logan was both. He was a man who had the kind of history that brought trouble, and it wasn't the kind that the N'awlin's boy enjoyed. Had it not been for meeting that Southern Belle, then just maybe there would have been a fight back in New Orleans, just for old time sake.
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He felt her stir in his arms, his little Lee. Holding her against him, Victor dribbled water from a clean cloth past her lips, pressed slivers of meat that she chewed and swallowed without any conscious thought. The pale pallor of her skin faded with every morsel she ate, a bath without any wanton urges something from the past where he had cleaned the ash and blood from her.
He lay with her in a bed he had yet to sleep in, the bedroom one he had never known, in a house he had paid to have built back in the Sixties. Hightown had grown up around it, it hadn't ever been meant as an investment, but it was worth a fortune now sitting on a cliff that overlooked the sea. Back before it had been built, back when it had just been empty land stretching for as far as the eye could see, he thought it would be a good place for a showdown if he ever got in deep.
He had his back to the wall, he knew just where they'd come from and it was their funeral. He'd proven that back in Lowtown, and the screams of those he'd thrown off the high-rise had been a mockery of how they had screamed when she had crossed her line.
"Six figure payday my ass..." Victor growled, and this time he wasn't bull shitting.
He found something worth more than money, something really worth fighting for. Everything else before had been a way to exorcise the base urges, to slake his thirst, but his little Lee...she had gone from being a touchstone to his brother to being family herself. Trailing a hand over her belly, all those nights together rutting had his beast longing to see the swell that would tell of pups.
The Hand hadn't even known their mistake as they made it, raising a blade against her, it would be their death no matter how much blood he had to wade through. He'd killed men before all over family, some he'd called friends. If that was what he had done to get his brother back, then what he would do to protect his mate would be a thousand times worse.
"I didn't know you did gentle..."
She curled against him, breathing deep and resting her ear to his chest just to hear the worried beat of his heart. Throwing the clean cloth away and holding her in his arms, it had surprised him too. He could tell by her even breaths that she had fallen asleep again, but he would wait out her next waking. He had all the watches she couldn't keep, he'd see her through the day and night if that was what it took, but when she next woke then maybe they could trade shifts, back to back...until he was rested and ready for some payback.
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