Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews! This is my first X-Men fic so your words are very much appreciated!
Chapter Four
Catherine's Palace
A pack of guards, dressed down in heavy SWAT gear, flak vests, and assault rifles at the ready, jogged down a hallway to a double door.
"{At the level three access stairwell}," the squad commander spoke crisply into the radio.
"{Intruders on level six}," a voice came back.
"{How did they get down there?}" one of the men asked and the commander gave him a sharp hand gesture.
"{Join up with Bravo team,}" the voice on the radio continued, "{apprehend if possible, terminate if necessary.}"
"{Understood,}" and with that the leader made several more hand gestures and with military precision the six member team went through the doors and down the stairs covering every corner and ambush point as they went.
After they were well on their way to confront the thieves breaking in downstairs, a man in a brown trench coat walked brazenly down the hallway, twirling his cane as if he was on a Sunday stroll.
…
They made it two rooms before they came across the first dropped wall.
"They're cutting off access points," Pyro slammed his hand against the thick metal, "can you get through it?"
Rogue punched the heavy, thick steel, barely denting it. "Titanium and carbon-polymer enforced, probably, and I'd say at least a foot thick. It would take me time."
"Time we don't have," her friend clicked the radio. "QuickSilver, status."
"Was able to zip me and Avalanche through before the doors went down," the silver haired mutant came back breathless, "I swear the man eats rocks. Where are you?"
"Not so lucky," the Australian's eyes darted around as he thought about the situation for a second. This was his mission to command, Magento put him in charge and Rogue knew he had the whole thing planned out perfectly. "Go ahead and get out, they'll find the tunnel soon enough and looks like we'll be finding another way."
"I can come back for you," the quick footed mutant suggested.
"No," Pyro shook his head even though the man couldn't see it, "you'll never get past those energy grids, remember? I can disable them from this side to get us out."
"Alright," Pietro didn't sound exactly happy but he knew, they all knew, there was no point in the whole Brotherhood getting caught when a job went south. "I'll stay in radio range if you need me to come back."
"Sounds good," Pyro clicked his radio and glanced over at Rogue with that look people sometimes get when they hope someone in the room has a plan.
"This way," Rogue took the lead, Vladislav's map still in her head. There were many reasons the Vault was a death trap for anything more than the most experienced thieves, one of which was, "They drop tha walls in a pattern, ta funnel us to an ambush zone."
"And we're heading towards the ambush?" he questioned while on her heels, keeping pace.
"Want out don't yah?" she called back, taking a corner at another dropped wall then skidding to a stop.
In front of them they could see an access stairwell but flanking the walls were a dozen security men dressed to the nines in the latest combat gear. Trying to walk, run or fly through that would be suicide, the smart choice would be surrendering.
"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Rogue asked her friend.
Pyro nodded and grinned, "I'm thinking Phoenix."
She moved behind him and started to check out what he was wearing, the best way to get a grip on him. There wasn't much to work with, heavy denim jacket, jeans to match. "That oversized Bic of yours got the juice?"
"Told you it'd come in handy," he clicked at the nozzle of the flamethrower, fire leaping out in what at first seemed like uncontrolled, random flickers, almost dying out immediately…
That was just getting the fuel through the line, once the stream started there was no stopping the mass of fire that built from the nozzle and hand of the mutant pyromaniac. He had a strange relationship with the natural element, both a passion and respect that only boarded on the psychopathic, never crossing… most days.
Within seconds the two mutants were wrapped in licking flames which sought oxygen from outside the circle. Rogue grabbed the man around his waist, making sure no clothing bunched up to reveal either's skin.
"Watch mah hair!" The two lifted into the air only about two feet, but it was enough and she sped them down the hall. She couldn't see from inside the fireball but she knew Pyro, he had a, erm, flare for the dramatic. From the scattering sounds and random rifle fire, the mutant was giving the men a show, a Phoenix or more likely a Dragon breathing fired down on them, whipping its wings over their heads and threatening to catch everything ablaze.
As they approached the exit the firebird stayed behind and the two passed through unscathed. Hitting the doors, Rogue quickly shot up to the next landing, lugging the Australian along.
"Damn it," Pyro practically growled as they went through the doors, "I forgot no more than two floors share the same stairwell."
"They call this place a death trap for a reason," Rogue squeezed the door handles together so they would overlap and catch each other, only gain them a small lead time. "And we got five more floors to go."
More security appeared at the end of the hall and the two mutants exchanged looks.
"Eh, we can take 'em," Pryo grinned.
…
Two floors up, Remy LeBeau stood in front of a door. He punched in a code written on the face of a Three of Hearts which he had won two days earlier in a poker game. The man who had given it to him didn't think too much of it, after all, even Le Diable Blanc wasn't dumb enough to attempt to steal something from the third level of the Catherine Vault.
Besides, he needed a matching key card from one of the Vault Keepers who never, ever, left the Vault.
Slipping a different playing card from where he kept them concealed under the sleeve of his coat, Gambit began to charge it with kinetic energy. Five of Spades, with a swipe it went through the card reader, exploding halfway down the middle and sending a magnetic discharge through the system as the reader cracked. With a pop the lock disengaged and the thief was in.
This room was fairly long, racks upon racks of moveable shelves squashed together. What he was looking for should be towards the front being that it was new. Seconds later LeBeau pulled a file folder from a shelf, the papers top hole punched and clasped inside. Flipping it open it was what he wanted but he didn't have time to look over it, his distraction would only last so long.
Folding the file he tucked it into an inside pocket of his trench and he walked from the room. He was leaving so much behind, information that could end nations and start wars… but a good thief takes, a great thief only takes what he can steal.
Outside, the hallway was still disserted but he could hear the faint sounds of gun fire and shouting. He had no doubt the two Brotherhood of Mutants members would be able to find their own way out of the mess he had dropped them into.
Adjusting his trench, trilby and biker-style fingerless gloves, Gambit started to walk away in style from one of the thefts of a lifetime.
The sprinkler system went off sending gallons of water pouring down on him.
Nobody needed to know about that part in the retelling.
…
"That's the exit!" Rogue shouted she kicked a guard against the wall next to the access door to the first floor of Catherine's Palace. The man would be knocked out but otherwise survive.
Pyro grappled an assault rifle from the other remaining guard standing and butted him in the head with it, sending him down. Her fire friendly friend was a bit less lax in caring what happened to non-mutants but he knew that Rogue would only work with the Brotherhood if they only used lethal force if absolutely necessary. They didn't know exactly why she was so prudish about the subject but they gathered it had something to do with having the conscious of someone she pretty much murdered still floating up there in her brain.
And they were right, the situation tends to have an effect on a person.
Soaking wet they exited into a small maintenance room, a gloried broom closet really which hid one of the secret access points to the complex below. They opened the door and started out into the Palace proper. "The grounds will be crawling with guards," her friend said.
"Then we'll fly," Rogue barely managed to get the words out when guards from another ambush position opened up on the two of them and they ducked back into the room, the door stuck open from the bullets that now riddled it. "Damn, where they getting all these guys?"
Pyro didn't quip back.
Rogue looked down to see the pyromaniac prone, shot in the shoulder. "John!"
He mumbled something incoherently, half dazed, but at least he was still alive. After that important fact was confirmed, she saw the fuel tank on the flame thrower was punctured and the fuel was spilling out, splashed across the floor and down his clothes.
A grenade came flying into the enclosed space and while Rogue was near invulnerable even this was questionable… and her friend certainly couldn't survive it.
Within a heartbeat Rogue snatched up the explosive where it fell and chucked it back through the open door. It exploded only feet from the entrance sending a shock wave and bits of shrapnel through the narrow opening. The mutant was already moving towards Pyro, snatching her glove by her teeth and dragging it off. She knew what was going to happen next.
The spilled fuel from Pyro's pack ignited and the flames leapt high, running back towards the source. Rogue ran her hand across the mutant's face and in an instant she finally understood…
Fire is elemental.
Fire is primal.
Fire is beautiful.
She turned her now blue colored eyes towards the flames that were coming for them and they were nothing to be afraid of… only respected and beloved.
Stopping the flames from advancing Rogue took the one free moment she had to rip the fuel tank from Pyro's back. A quick deep breath and she could feel the heat of the fire inside her, beckoning her to play.
Oh, she was going to play all right.
…
The squad commander of one of the last remaining cadre of security forces watched as the grenade exploded in mid-air, a gutsy move by the two thieves inside but ultimately a wasted effort. The resulting explosion set off the flammable liquid that they had brought with them, a lucky shot having pierced the tank on the back of the male.
"{Ready to advance,}" he said through their radios, waiting for the flame to disperse.
Before his eyes the flames stopped, not died out, simply stopped moving forward to consume the fuel, content to sit and eat at what was left. It was an unnatural sight.
Seconds later the fuel tank came flying out of the room, spilling petrol as it went. The flames leapt up, following the dripping trail until finally making contact. With a burst of heat and an expanding crack, the tank exploded in a fireball, shards of the metal and plastic container flying through the air. The fire itself spread out into a large bird, an eagle maybe, and swooped down on them.
Instinctively the men ducked, some sending shots into the belly of the flaming beast.
There was a crash and the commander turned his head in time to see a shadow fly out of a newly broken window.
…
Rogue flew almost straight up, making sure to zig a bit in her zag in case there were snipers. Pyro was passed out, slung over her shoulder like the wounded comrade he was. She only needed a second to get her bearings, figure out which way was west.
An attack helicopter swooped by, but the sudden jerky movements were tell enough of the pilot's startled realization that hundreds of feet in the air, a woman floated when she couldn't possibly be doing so. Rogue took that opportunity to make her escape, shooting off as quick as her will would let her. The copter swooped in pursuit but she easily ducked in through the buildings where a machine could never go and made her way down dark alleys.
"Everyone," she said into the radio, "we're out, return to the safe house."
…
"Oww!" Pyro moaned as Pietro used his skill to stitch up both sides of the wound. Whoever said quick was painless obviously never knew a mutant who could break the sound barrier.
"It's a through and through, you baby," the silver haired mutant rolls his eyes, "count yourself lucky that pocket lighter of yours didn't blow up on you."
"It was my spare too," he frowned, now he'd have to start from scratch and build a whole new flame thrower. Shouldn't be hard to find parts through, not in Russian where you can buy ex-Soviet goods on the cheap.
The local safe house the Brotherhood was using was an old, sparsely furnished, dwelling but out of the way and off the grid. Pyro sat at a butcher-top table while Pietro worked on him. Rogue and Avalanche stood around, making sure that they didn't need to find a doctor to make a 'house call'. Thankfully he lost little blood thanks to the wet denim that acted as a temporary bandage and compress.
"You'll live," Pietro put a bandage around his shoulder then patted him on the back, a little too hard perhaps, and packed up the emergency kit.
"Think Magneto will be mad that we didn't get in and out unnoticed?" he attempted to slide his button up shirt back on, it was cold in the house, no heater, and he hated the cold.
"He'll be fine," Pietro didn't seem fussed, "they'd have notice the tunnel eventually and this way maybe they will think we took whatever Gambit was after."
"Yah know," Rogue had walked up to the table and lifted herself to set on the edge, a plastic jar of Vegemite in one hand, spoon in the other, "anyone else bothered by tha fact that crawdad got one over on us?"
"Hey!" Pyro watched as she ate another spoonful of the dark semi-solid, "you know how many stores I had to go to around here to find that?"
The only female of what was left of the Brotherhood pointed the spoon at him, "I saved your skinny Australian hide back there, and all I got to show for it is a craving for this…" she looked into the jar, "you know, I don't even want to know."
Before the pyromaniac could say anything, Pietro moved away to stow the kit in his duffle bag, "It did feel like Baghdad all over again, but at least this time we came away with what we went there looking for."
"How did he know, though," Rogue asked as she took another spoonful of the spread. "Who could he have talked ta?" the second question was slightly muffled.
Dom cleared his voice, having been silent the whole time since they came back, "I saw him, two days ago, at an underground poker game while I waited for the rest of you to arrive, but I told him nothing of our plans."
All eyes turned to the man, not reproaching, they were far too much like family to do such things, but that didn't stop them from getting in a few jabs. Of course, Pietro was the quickest to the punch, "You spent more than five minutes in that man's company and didn't try to kill him, or at least punch him? You got played."
"It was just a friendly poker game, Baghdad was ages ago," the tanned man defended, referring to the incident where they first met the Cajun thief who promptly made fools of them all, "and I swear I told him nothing of the Vault, he never even asked about it."
Pyro looked over at Rogue who had also glanced at him, seems she had the same thought on her mind. The two turned back to their friend and said the word together. "Played."
"Avalanche, my friend," Pietro consoled Dom, patting him on the back, "don't worry about it. But next time, do us all a favor and before he has a chance to say two words, drop the floor out from under him."
"I will," Dom growled and picked up his duffle bag from the floor, they had all packed before the job so they could make a quick getaway, not expecting an impromptu surgery. "Keep your wound disinfected, Pyro," he said before disappearing out the front door.
"Yuck, ugh," Rogue slightly pitched over at her perch, "oh yeah, that's worn off now, here," she shoved the Vegemite container at him, "How can yah eat that?"
"Well," Pietro slung his duffle over his shoulder and put the courier bag with the stolen files around his neck, "I should be going, Magneto is expecting me in Brussels before 9:00am. Pyro, try not to pull the stitches."
And with that the man was gone in a flash of silver light, the group was not really big on goodbyes in any way or shape. Considering all of their backgrounds, Pyro supposed this was about as functional as any of them were ever going to get.
"Yah know," Rogue dangled her legs back and forth, "if he hasn't left St. Petersburg by now then he'll be sticking around for awhile, probably ta sell whatever he took."
"Huh?" it took the Australian a second to realize she was talking about the Cajun, "maybe. I'd just let it go."
"He got yah shot," she pointed out, always a little defensive about the pseudo-family.
"Like this is the first time I've been shot," he shrugged which hurt more than it should, "but I don't hold a grudge, he was there to steal, so were we, he won this round is all, though more like a tie," he started to scoop up some of the yummy spread, "anyway, we'll get him next time he tries to get one over us. He's not really worth the hassle to chase down."
"Maybe," she hopped off the table and went over to her own duffle sitting on the floor, "doesn't hurt ta check where tha biggest underground games will be played tonight though. Make sure you keep clean bandages on that wound, Pyro."
With that she disappeared through the door and Pyro was left sitting at the table with nothing but his jar of Vegemite and a bum shoulder.
Eh, he'd been left in worse situations.