Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews, it's always mucho appreciated! :D
I also wrote a one-shot called Touch that goes into the psyche of Rogue. It's not in-universe to this story but gives you an idea of how I think her mind works. I hope you like it as much as you're enjoying this!
Hiroyuki Shimosawa as Shingen Yashida (He's a Wolverine villain, I'm borrowing him.)
Chapter Eight
Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan
Remy LeBeau liked to say he was picky about what jobs he took because he could afford to be, and that was certainly true. Over the past decade he had acquired quite a bit which at least eight different countries and twenty-five government agencies would like to get their hands on. He did enjoy the challenge, out thinking those who thought they were better than the Cajun boy from down South.
Such as Worthington, the winged mutant probably thought LeBeau felt himself above asking for help in breaking into his place, otherwise he would have done more to protect the safe. True, Remy hadn't put much thought towards breaking in since the new security upgrades but it had been in the back of his mind. He knew he'd need a flying mutant or an incredible hacker to do the job but wasn't going to make a fuss about it, only needed to find the right person for the task.
Rogue lived up to her reputation, intelligent enough to think for herself but smart enough to know when to follow the leader. He didn't lie to her, she would make a great thief if she felt so inclined.
The Louisiana native walked through the lobby of the Park-Hyatt Hotel, Tokyo, a massive structure that looked like three high-rise buildings pressed together. The writing box tucked in his coat he was greeted by two angry looking Asian men in black suits.
"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" he asked glibly but it went right over their heads, at least he got a good chuckle out of it.
Ushered into an elevator, he was dropped off at the hotel's restaurant, a swank looking place with a long dining area, tables up against the glass so the clientele could enjoy the view. Most of the tables were full, the evening diners pretty much ignoring him as he walked past.
Gambit took note of how many there were, what stages of dinner they were in, and just how interested they were in their food. Something was definitely off.
"Remy LeBeau," Shingen Yashida called from where he was cutting into a steak, rare, "join me."
"Just want what I came for," the thief registered body guards standing at the four points though keeping their distance as to not interrupt their boss's meal.
Shingen was a smartly dressed Asian, shoulder length brown hair tied back and a neatly trimmed goatee with beard. But his eyes had a sharp edge to them, the kind of hardness seen in a man likely lacking in a soul. "Don't be rude," he said in accented English, "sit."
Deciding not to err on the side of caution, Remy slipped into the offered seat across from Shingen. The Yakuza and Assassins Guild member was known to be ruthless and uncompromising, not the kind of person the Cajun liked to consort with. Perhaps he was just your average Southern country boy, but the thief tended to frown on such things as the whole-sale slaughter of innocents.
"Do you have it?" Shingen took a bite of his steak.
"I'm da most trustworthy one at dis table," Gambit told it like it was without bashfulness, "did you bring da information I asked for?"
The assassin grunted his annoyance at the thief's ill humor, but pulled a thin CD case from his breast pocket and tossed it on the table between them. "Everything in regards to the contract placed on one Henri LeBeau."
A CD, not what Gambit wanted, paper always preferred, that way he could make sure Shingen wasn't trying to stiff him. Too late now, he'd have to take the trade and deal with the consequences and improvise if need be. Not too quickly, the thief took the velour bag containing the writing box from its own hiding place and sat it next to the CD.
Shingen starred down at it almost as if he had expected the Cajun to have come empty handed. Wiping off his hands and mouth, the Yakuza officer picked up the bag and slid the box out. The man took a moment to look it over, slipping off the lid to gaze at the few implements still left inside. Part of LeBeau wanted to know why the box was so important to him, but mostly he just wanted to get the information and get out.
"Worthington is lucky he has certain… friends," the assassin ran his fingers down the inside of the lid, Gambit had noticed the all too regular scratch marks but didn't have the time to try to make heads or tails of them. "You know not how many times I have wanted to send my men into his home, drag him into the streets and pluck his feathers one by one for the world to see?"
Wisely, Remy chose to keep his mouth shut. He made deals with the devil's own before out of necessity, he did so again today because of those fabled 'best intentions'… didn't mean he had to be sociable.
Reaching for the CD case, exactly what he figured happened. Every person in the restaurant, from diner to waiter, stopped what they were doing and pulled out a weapon. Assassins or Yakuza, probably a mix of both.
Gambit sighed, it was going to be one of those nights.
…
"I told you not to be rude," Shingen said with entirely too much glee than was proper for a man of his standing. "Now, keep your hands where I can see them."
He watched as the thief cautiously laid his biker-gloved hands at the edge of the table, thumbs drooped over the side of the heavy wood, with no cards in sight and well away from any utensils. Shingen did not want to give the mutant a chance to create any destructive throwing implements.
"Good," satisfied, the assassin plucked the CD up and slipped it into his jacket with the writing box, "behave and you might just get this back."
"Why do I doubt dat?" he replied evenly.
"Because you're a smart man, Mr. LeBeau," he replied snidely, the American was not going to make this simple, which to a point was fine for Shingen. This was a long time coming. "You should have taken the job when I offered it, instead of mocking me so foolishly."
The thief grinned and chuckled, "I thought sending you dat box of crayons was truly inspired."
Shingen let out what could only be described as a low growl, "Thieves. You have no respect."
LeBeau shrugged, "Yup."
Spouting a few words in Japanese, two of the guards came to either side of the Cajun and Shingen smiled. "I have thought of so many wonderfully horrid things to do to you for your petulance, Mr. LeBeau."
"Imagine you have," he replied, not an inch of fear in his voice.
"They call you Le Diable Blanc," Shingen had only slight trouble with the pronunciation, "The White Devil, but I do not think you deserve such a noble title."
"Never asked for it," the man looked uncomfortable for the first time.
Shingen was beginning to understand his foe just a bit more, "Then perhaps I can show you what the real devil looks like."
"Met da man, years ago," LeBeau said casually but there was an edge to his voice, "didn't end well for either of us."
The Cajun's easy audacity was becoming enough for the Yakuza officer, "Fine, let's see how you are without your cards and tricks, Mr. LeBeau. {Search him.}"
His guards grabbed the man by the shoulders and hauled him out of his seat roughly, the thief hunched over, leaning on the table as they started to comb through his pockets. First they grabbed his cane from where it was stashed on a clip in the trench.
"You do realize, Shingen," the thief grinned, "dat I can charge things bigger dan playing cards…"
A slight glow caught Shingen's attention, the creases in the deep red of the lacquered table starting to hum with a pinkish glow.
"Just takes longer…" with those words the table exploded in a hail of shards and splinters.
Shingen threw his arms up to protect himself and one of his personal body guards took him to the floor as the explosion hit. Years of training had the assassin back on his feet, taking a sword from of the Yakuza nearest him. He was ready for whatever attack might be coming his way. However, LeBeau showed himself not to be the fool, he might get Shingen but it would be a suicidal move, the Yakuza in the room would take him out before he could get away.
The assassin watched as the thief jumped from table to table in the resulting chaos, knocking several people down with his Bo staff and charged cards before disappearing into the kitchen.
Well, this would make the man's death much more satisfying once they caught Le Diable Blanc…
…
Every time he made a deal with the devil it never turned out right… he should have learned that lesson already. Now he was on the run with nothing to show for it.
Think, LeBeau, think.
Dashing through the kitchen, he spotted a tray of knives in a drying bin. Snatching them they were nice cold stainless steel which took a charge quick and easy. Assassins came busting through the door after him and he flicked the knives in their direction. He wasn't trying to actually hit anyone and he figured they were trained well enough to duck and cover, he only needed to gain himself some time.
Evade first then reassess your position.
Taking a left towards the freezers, three athletic looking men had their guns drawn. Gambit let loose with three cards, two hitting their mark and taking down the men. The third dodged and got a shot off but Gambit opened the door to the freezer to let it take the bullet. Flipping around the open door he struck out with his staff, sending the man to the floor.
Noises came from behind and he ducked out the back which led to a long hallway. Racing down the expanse, at least a dozen Yakuza appeared at the end and opened fire. Dashing through the nearest exit, which was a metal double door, he found himself in an industrial laundry room. Four washers lined one side and four dryers on the other. The ceiling was high as the machines were at least seven feet tall with barrels enough to do at a whole floor's worth of linens in one go.
Need to separate Shingen from the pack or take down the Yakuza in smaller groups.
There was another set of doors on the other end of the room and he ran towards it only to be cut off by a flying dagger he narrowly avoided. Gambit flicked two cards back in the direction of the offending weapon but whoever threw it had moved.
A sword came swinging in his direction and he parried it away with his Bo staff, only to have the assassin attempt again with a second sword in his other hand. The second swept low and Gambit was able to block it, and that was about all. His foe was quick, not mutant quick, just hard and solid like a man who had spent his life with a sword in his hands.
Not as good as Wade though, but then, who was.
The thief backed up between two of the washers, giving the assassin less room to work with as he swung his deadly implements. Blocking a strong swipe from a sword, Gambit jumped backwards then hopped back and forth between both machines to get on top of one.
The assassin followed expertly, but Gambit had time to set up a strike, flicking four charged cards at the dark clad man. Only one connected and it was enough to cause a sword to clatter to the ground and slide under a machine. This did little to stop the Asian from advancing on the Cajun.
Gambit found defense easier against the one sword and managed a few strikes. This wasn't working for him though and he back flipped off the washer to the ground. The assassin didn't immediately follow, this time cautious, smartly so. Holding his Bo staff at the ready, Remy gave the man a challenging look. After all, the assassin had the high ground, what did he have to lose?
The man jumped down, sword at the ready, but Gambit did something unexpected and flat out ran at the assassin. Getting right under him, the thief got inside the reach of the sword and promptly punched the swordsman square in the face, the man falling to the ground in a heap.
That felt entirely too good.
Men and women burst through both entrances and he tried to make a run for it through the sides of the dryers. The Yakuza flooded in too quickly, he'd knock down one and two more would appear. Soon he found himself backed against a wall behind the units, Assassins and Yakuza at every exit, even on top of the dryers.
Yep, one of those nights.
…
"{Lock the doors}," Shingen ordered to his guards as he entered the laundry room, sword still in hand. He did not want his prey getting away this time.
A few abrasions on his face and hands, but several cuts and stains to his suit, oh, the Cajun would definitely pay.
His men had cornered the thief in the laundry behind one of the dryers. It almost seemed fitting for the kind of rat that LeBeau was. To be squashed in the dank recesses of a room like this, Shingen could almost see the poetry in it.
Rounding the dryer, his men parted so that he could see LeBeau, but this time he was smart enough to keep a few guards between himself and the Cajun. The end of the man's Bo staff started to glow with a pinkish-purple hue. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr LeBeau."
The thief looked at him with caged eyes, the red devil in them practically glowing with energy.
"Think what kind of structural damage you could do," Shingen pointed out, "all the innocents you might hurt."
LeBeau only took a second to glance at the floor and it didn't take a psychic to see him rethink his plan of stabbing the floor with the kinetic energy he was storing in the staff, thereby creating a mini-earthquake. While being beneficial to his escape it could collapse at least one floor, maybe two. Predictable, the man didn't have the gumption to do what was necessary.
"I got you da box, Shingen," he called out, "why can't we be civilized folk here?"
Shingen laughed, "When were men like us ever civilized, Mr LeBeau?"
"I've had my moments," he retorted, defiant to the fact that he was well and truly out of options now.
"Then let this one be your last," he replied coldly, bringing the sword to bear. He had plans on how to torture the thief but perhaps his hand had been forced, a quick death would more advantageous, only less satisfying.
BANG!
A pound against the door caused everyone to pause. Daring to look over his shoulder, another thud rang out, this time Shingen saw the metal door fly across the room.
Seconds later, a woman ran into view, staring down the aisle between the dryers. A brown leather jacket complimented dark red hair, a white streak parted down the side. The expression on her face as she took in the sight of several dozen Yakuza warriors and the cornered Remy LeBeau could only be described as that of a woman who has burst jovially into a room, only to realize a funeral was taking place.
"Ah," she cleared her throat and pointed at the thief, "I'm with him."
Shingen glanced back at LeBeau who was grinning like the fiend he was. "She's with me."