(Three)
Logan startled awake when there was a heavy thud beside him. His eyes opened a crack, but full consciousness was clearly not going to come anytime soon. He was on his side and whatever he was lying on was quite cold against his skin. He didn't think it was the snow or even the ground, it was too dark around him for him to be outside. The uneven, ribbed feeling to the floor and the smell of diesel so close suggested to him that he was in the plastic lined bed of some heavy duty truck, but then again, he was also too fucked up to really trust anything his senses were telling him. His head was pounding and only his high tolerance for pain was keeping him from making some noise about it. There was some sunlight, though it was muted, and he guessed that there was a truck cap above him offering some shelter against the wind and snow.
The cold floor against his naked skin actually felt pleasant and the heavy fog behind his eyes informed him in its own sluggish way that he was far from fine. His body was burning with a high fever though he had no memory of being sick or even of how he might have gotten here. For one thing, he didn't own a truck, certainly not one that he would have crawled off to sleep in, in any case.
Feathery lint drifted across his nose and he involuntarily breathed it in, feeling the beginnings of a sneeze building there from it. The sneeze finally came, making his eyes widen all the more and what he saw next made him keep them open though it took some effort. The thud he had heard had come from a body being placed next to him, one that had been dumped there without care like so much meat.
From his fog, Logan still recognized who it was – this was Aiden – though the Siskan didn't appear to be in any better shape than Logan was now. Aiden's skin looked faded and pale. Even his wispy blonde hair seemed colorless. His eyes were slitted, not fully closed, and even though Logan wasn't at his sharpest he could see that they never blinked. Aiden had never had a heartbeat but now he didn't even seem to be breathing. His parka and shirt had been clawed at and shredded – thus the lint – and his exposed chest showed six circular wounds marring his lovely Yellow Mark, as though someone had taken their fingers and simply pushed them right into him. It reminded Logan vaguely of the finger holes of a bowling ball. There was no blood leaking from those strange finger holes, but this didn't surprise Logan, even he knew that Siskans' blood shimmered away.
So incapacitated, Aiden's normal look of playful arrogance was gone, leaving behind a sort of childish innocence that made him appear years younger, as though he was nothing more than a sleepy child. It was enough that Logan reached out as best he could - his arm was so heavy it took forever to get there - and touched Aiden's cheek in a half caress. The Siskan did not react to the contact and Logan squinted as he felt his fingers sink a little into the Siskan's skin, something not even close to natural. He had seen this sort of strange squishiness before, once when Kimble had run so low on power that he was hardly conscious. Of course even then Kimble hadn't looked so faded, so... empty... of everything, including life. Aiden's skin was cold to the touch and Logan had an idea that it had nothing to do with the snow.
Again Logan touched Aiden's lips, this time swirling his fingers a bit. Logan blinked in a kind of drunken bewilderment when he actually disturbed the features of the mouth itself, as though Aiden was nothing more than a human shaped figure made of putty. It was creepy and fascinating all at once – and something he had never seen happen before, not even with Kimble.
He can't be dead, Logan's inner voice chimed in, the only thing about Logan that wasn't totally fogged. A dim memory came to him then of holding a clear plastic evidence bag with three blackened circular objects in it. A year or so ago Aiden's clutchmate Babette, her heart shattered, had committed suicide by bleeding herself out to nothing. When Logan had found her, all that had been left were those three star drives, as dead then as she now was. If Aiden was all the way gone like she had been, all that should have remained of him were his drives. Wolverine closed his eyes to rest, having taken some small comfort in that.
He didn't get much. Long ago he had accepted the fact that he had done bad things and that he was a bad man, rotten down to the core. He did not deserve the few blessings that he had been given. Even now when he had been taken he didn't cast about blame elsewhere, he knew that this was his comeuppance and he was getting what he so richly deserved. What he didn't like was the fact that it seemed like Remy and his crew was going along for the ride. He had to do something, he had to stop this.
Logan tried to move but couldn't. He was too tired, his body too heavy. He took a deep shuddering breath and gave it up. He would rest, yes, and then this rat bastard, whomever he was, was going to eat plenty. He would eat every bite of this dish of holy hell Logan was preparing for him. It was sure to be bloody and sweet.
Logan startled awake moments later, not even fully aware that he had fallen back asleep. He had been awakened by voices, two men were just outside. They were speaking in German, something puzzling since it wasn't a common tongue out here in the snowy wilds of Maine. Having fought in World War II, Logan didn't have many positive associations with German. His good friend Nightcrawler aside, little had come his way over the years to change that very narrow view.
One of the pair was giving orders. "Go back to the cabin. The Master wants the ship that's parked there. It's cloaked, but you will still be able to find it easily enough if you use that undersized lump that passes for your brain. If the ship is gone just wait, they will return with the rest of the Team. They think this place is safe and they will leave the craft unattended in their zeal to play our little game. Don't let them see you but let them pass and then bring the ship to the Diamond. Don't fuck this up or you will pay dearly!"
Logan grumbled inwardly. This had just gone from bad to worse. It would be a bad thing indeed if anyone got their hands on the Dragon 2 and figured out how it worked. He could only hope that Seth had put in enough failsafe redundancies to make sure the craft was unusable to anyone other than Remy's team.
"You're lucky you're the Master's dog," came the irritated reply from the second voice. "I am too useful for you to speak to me with such disrespect!"
"You'll get my respect when you actually earn it. Something I doubt will ever happen. Now be a good pup and do as you're told."
The second man cursed and then the truck rocked a bit, shifting, followed by a pair of slamming doors. They had been arguing in the cab and now both had exited. Aiden's head lolled in a boneless, scary way from the movement and that made Logan draw his hand back in unease. The jostling of Aiden's head caused a single tear to drip from one of the Siskan's eyes, once more catching Logan's attention. The tear was simulated as were all liquid secretions from these creatures, but even it wasn't quite right. It was sparkly with golden glitter that caught the half light coming in from the truck cap windows and shimmered like nothing else Logan had seen. Only then did he realize that the tear wasn't the only thing shimmery, he could see answering golden sparkles from inside the Siskan's body. Not on top of his skin like sweat – these were glimmering from inside. They were swimming there, just under the skin, like goldfish you can only just see in a pond.
"The fuck...?" Wolverine rasped in confusion, his throat raw.
"You're awake," came a voice to Logan's left. The truck shifted again, Logan was now no longer the only living, breathing thing in the truck bed. "How nice."
Logan turned towards the noise, startled more by the fact that this voice, which had spoken fluent German a mere moments before, had just now uttered flawless Japanese than by the noise itself. The Japanese was the language Aiden had failed to understand earlier in the woods, but Wolverine knew it much too well not to.
The movement Logan had made in turning his head was a mistake, the world suddenly blurred in a sickening carousel sort of way and he was gripped with a fierce, gripping nausea. He had only just begun to gag when he was struck in the belly by a heavily booted foot, a blow that forced him to relieve his stomach of what little had been in it. Vomit sprayed from his mouth, splattering all around, even on poor Aiden's face though the Siskan didn't even react to it at all.
"My, my," that cruel voice purred at him again. "Feeling a bit ill, are we? I should hope so. It's bubonic plague, one of my personal favorites. At this point you are nearing the septicemic stage. You are familiar with this, yes? More so than you would like to be right about now, I suspect."
Logan's vision cleared some though tears dripped from the corners of his eyes. It was enough that he could see the blur of the man above him, someone he could not recognize, though he did understand that this was the same voice that had called to him from the woods. That voice had lured him into the trees though he could no longer recall what had happened after. Something unpleasant no doubt or he wouldn't be here, a prisoner now. He was unfamiliar with the medical terms the man had used, they were too similar to words Hank would use right about the time Logan would tune him out from boredom. All he knew was that right now he was in serious medical trouble. His heart was pounding in his chest, keeping time with the throbbing in his head, both equally unpleasant. He had to get out of here and fast.
The man didn't seem to care that Logan had not responded to his question. Instead he asked another, "Do you recognize this weapon?"
Logan blinked again and saw the vague outline of a peculiar yet familiar looking handgun. It was one of Tony Stark's finest - a gun made specifically for chemically or biologically loaded bullets. A nasty weapon, one that Logan had never approved of. As before, he didn't answer the man's question. He didn't have to, the answer was already coming.
"It's the ST-500," came the flawless Japanese again. He turned the weapon around, all the better for Logan to get a really good look at the source of all of his pain. "I usually just use the Scarlet Fever pellet or one of the more lively strains of the flu, but you... You, my friend, are a special case."
"What.. what do.. ya want ... from me?" Logan gasped, hardly able to speak. His gut was one huge agony now.
The man shaped blur just laughed, "No. Not me. I'm just the one who fetches what needs to be fetched." He pulled back the slide on the gun, loading it. "There's someone who'd like very much to meet you, and what he wants, he always gets."
Before Logan could respond to that the gun was pointed towards him and he was pushed back, moved by unseen fists that hit him and filled him with toxic heat that burned through him worse than the kick to the stomach had done. He was on fire and then he knew no more.
(Break)
Remy left his precious wife and babies behind and walked up into the Dragon 2 trying to swallow down his annoyance. Continuing to be irritated over having to babysit Gryfon wasn't going to help anything. He would need to remain calm, all the better to keep an eye on the dangerous passenger. Passenger, yes, because as far as Remy was concerned, the man hadn't earned the right to be called teammate. Not anymore.
Gambit was almost at the top of the ramp when he began to hear the kids inside talking amongst themselves. Kimble had fallen back asleep in his pilot's chair just as Remy had suspected he might and now big, green Hercules and some of the others were having a bit of fun at his expense. Kimble was a sound sleeper, especially after a few rounds of drinks, and was probably oblivious to the fact that anything was even going on. It was a good thing, too, as the talk wasn't so nice.
"Looks like someone had a good time," Trigger was teasing, his voice a bit hard. "So how many beers does it take to make a Siskan pass out?"
"Too many," came Hercules' gruff reply. It wasn't friendly. "He smells like a brewery."
"Are you sure it's okay for him to fly?" Dewy asked next, his voice nervous. He was a constant fretter, something that had earned him more than one round of teasing of his own. Remy could just picture the guy wringing his hands in anxious worry as he continued, "I can think of better ways to die than crashing."
"I think it's cute," Grace said next, her voice full of fun as always. "He looks so adorable all trashed like that."
"There's nothing adorable about being so fucked up you can't perform," Hercules sneered in reply. "He's probably going to slow us down. We should just leave him behind."
"You men," Grace just chided in return. "Always so worried about your 'performance'." She suggestively placed a special emphasis on the last word and Remy could just picture her rolling her eyes. Good ole steady Grace, never one to let anyone bully her. "I am sure Kimble can hold his own, drunk or not, or he wouldn't be here. Besides, who else would fly us out? Gambit can't do it on his own."
"Everyone settle down," Remy barked, finally entering the ship and shooing them with his hands to scatter the small crowd that was hovering around Kimble's pilot chair. His eyes were especially hard as they settled on Hercules while the boy took his seat. Remy was no idiot. He knew that deep down Hercules held some homophobic contempt for the pair of Siskans. The only reason he was speaking so boldly now was because Aiden, the more intimidating of the pair, was absent. It was exasperating, this boy. Hercules was always standing on that precarious fork in the road, one step away from becoming the leader Remy wanted him to become, or the bully he was so close to arriving at instead.
Respectful of their team leader, the kids took their seats obediently, some of them looking chagrined, but not all. Hercules had held Remy's gaze even to the last.
Once they were seated, Remy gave Kimble a gentle nudge. The pilot startled awake with a drunken grunt, not even the least bit aware that he had been the object of anyone's ridicule. "S' time fer leavin's?" he asked blearily, his voice still slurred. His eyes were only half open, still heavy with sleep.
Remy patted his shoulder. "Oui. Why don't you go in de lav, freshen up a bit? Just fo' one minute."
Kimble nodded and rose stiffly, rubbing his eyes and stumbling a bit as he shuffled off to the lavatory. Remy watched him go, feeling a bit regretful. It wasn't Kimble's fault, this hadn't been planned and the guys had just been too bored at the cabin. Kimble wasn't one to get regularly trashed like this, it was simply that the group of them had been having a good time. If anyone was to blame, it was himself for packing so much whiskey along. Even out there they had technically still been on call and could have been ordered to action at any time if a serious incident had occurred. He would have to remember this for the future.
Julien had taken the last seat on the end, the one closest to the lavatory and Remy watched with a half smile as Kimble gently brushed his hand over Julien's shoulder as he passed him by. Julien hadn't moved away and there was a momentary streaking of blue in his shine, a sign that the gesture had been well received.
Of course Kimble would be able to sense that the boy was upset, Julien was family and he looked out for the boy more than anyone, including Asher. Even in a daze Kimble had seen how bad Julien's shine was and had reached out automatically without being too obvious about it. Kimble was painfully aware that he was often perceived as odd or strange because he was so open emotionally and because of it, had lately been holding back when it came to outward signs of affection, something that made Remy sad.
It did also make Remy wonder why it was that Julien hadn't tried to stand up for Kimble while the others had been teasing him, Kimble wouldn't have hesitated to stand up for Julien if their situations had been reversed. Then again, with Julien so trashed emotionally himself at the moment, he might not have wanted the confrontation. It was true that Julien and Hercules had butted heads more than once, usually with Hercules coming out on top. The big green bruiser was no match for Gambit's slim and underfed son.
Remy took his own seat and absently fiddled with the start up controls as he waited for Kimble to return, keeping one watchful eye on the door to the lavatory. For just a moment he actually did consider leaving Kimble here as Hercules had been suggesting and just have Fallen fly them back instead, but he was concerned that Kimble would lose too much face over it. He had flown them out here well enough and he had been more inebriated then than he was now. Gambit was relieved when a moment later, Kimble walked out looking much more alert than when he had gone in. He had splashed some water on his face and had brushed his teeth, minty fresh. Now that he was back on track, Kimble was his usual efficient self and the flight back to Maine was swift and quiet. Kimble never wavered as he guided them along, his skill at this never faltering.
The kids were animated in their seats as they traveled, happy to be there. They, like Remy, were filled with anticipation of the game to come and what it might hold. They had missed their squad leader during his absence and were eager for more than just the usual practice drills. They were happy for the distraction.
Remy knew that the kids loved flying in the Dragon 2. It was the best perk of being on his squad and they were always excited when they were told they might be taking a trip somewhere. Their exclusivity was soon coming to an end, though. A third ship, the Dragon 3, was already partially built and would soon be finished. Seth was behind many of the new designs and was currently going over the files of those mutants who might be eligible to fly her. All they really needed was to pair up a certain kind of energy producer and a powerful telekine just as Remy and Kimble were, and the X-men had a few to choose from coming up through the ranks. Even now the top performers of those two power groups were scrambling over one another to be picked for this prestigious service. It was no big secret that Xavier wanted a small fleet of these handy little ships if he could manage it. But for now, Remy was still the only one in charge of a smaller Dragon craft and his kids felt privileged to be here.
They were almost at their destination when Remy heard the small clique of girls giggle about something behind him. He turned his head slightly to glance behind him, trying not to be too obvious about it. His attempt at subtlety failed, his eyes immediately met those of Grace, her face full of light and fun. Grace winked at him playfully, but he noted that at the same time her hand had moved towards the scarf at her throat. Her shine flickered and just like that Remy knew she had a secret. It wasn't a bad one, but the happiness it gave her was tinged with sadness.
Oh, yeah, it's a hickey all right she's hiding there, Shi'ow-ri laughingly whispered to him, the internal voice of his empathy. He had named her, this power, it helped to keep him sane when secret knowledge came to him whether he wanted it to or not. It has to be.
Good for 'er, he answered back. Nice to know someone's happy round 'ere.
Just beware that sadness.
Remy nodded but didn't reply to that. Something had happened recently that had both excited Grace and yet had left behind some unhappiness. He wouldn't ask her about it. The thing was that while Remy tried his best to make himself emotionally available to his squad he wasn't going to be pushy about it - at least, not unless it actually began to affect the team as a group. He had been where they are now, these awkward teenagers still trying to figure out the mysteries of life, and wanted to give them the chance to work things out for themselves. It would make them the stronger for it. Besides, with the emotional polarity that most teenage girls had, it could be about anything.
Grace was a joy to have around, her constant radiation of playful confidence seemed to meld the group together in a positive way. It helped to compensate for the more aggressive, moodier boys on the team. No matter how many cuts Gambit might have to make to the team in the future, her spot on his crew was assured. He hadn't told her that of course, he would show no outward signs of favoritism. Her codename, Jester, was well earned and he wasn't going to do without her.
Grace chuckled softly at him as if reading his thoughts and returned her attention back to her girlfriends. The giggling continued and Remy gave up on it, laughing softly to himself as he turned back to the front, rolling his eyes at it even though he was still smiling.
Unlike the more aggressive boys, the girls were all getting along famously, something that was a relief. It was times like these, looking on the playful girls and the position hungry boys, that Remy would reminisce fondly on his time as a young Thief in the Guild run by his adopted father, Jean Luc. Jean Luc had been in charge of bringing the young ones up to speed and it wasn't until Remy was in charge of his own gaggle of unruly teenagers that he could look back on his youth and wonder just how it was exactly that Jean Luc had reined them in all so well. Getting out of hand hadn't happened often and most of the time Jean Luc had held their respect so tightly that a mere threat of punishment was usually sufficient to bring forth an unquestioning obedience. Remy had no such control, not just yet. He only wished now that Jean Luc was still alive so he could ask the old man just how he had done it.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Gambit realized now, as an adult, that one of the biggest reasons that Jean Luc had been so respected was because he had proven himself time and time again in the field. No one doubted his skills or that he knew what he was speaking about when he was teaching. Remy could only hope to get the same chance to do that, perhaps even today though it was just a drill.
Little pretty, purple skinned Izzie laughed a little louder than usual and out of the corner of his eye, Remy caught the flickering of a shine in response to it, one that gave him chills.
Warren Worthington, formerly an Angel and now a Gryfon, was standing aloof and off to one side of the room. The seats were full with the kids so he had taken one of the hand straps that hung from the ceiling and held himself up, his eagle eyes wary and roaming over the kids watchfully, though now they had fixed rather pointedly on Izzie in a most predatory way. The kids had grown used to having him around these days, Remy could see, but yet none of them chatted with him and those closest to where he stood had turned away towards each other as if in a subconscious gesture of protection against him. Gryphon's shine was calm and curious, but even in this relaxed state still wasn't free of those darker colors that set Remy on edge. He still didn't know if the guy could be trusted if things went badly quickly today. Would he help them or hinder them? And why was he looking at Izzie like that? Like she was something good to eat.
Remy wasn't the only one who had noticed it, the Thief quickly saw. Kyle, slumped on the floor as he was, was now staring right back at the guy, his lips pulled back in a soundless hiss of warning, showing plenty of teeth. His long claws hooked out and clacked on the metal floor, finally making enough noise to pull Gryfon's eyes away from the girl to a more immediate problem.
Gryfon stared back at Kyle, nonplused at the challenge, and he laughed, smiling at the feral man in a most unpleasant way. "Something on your mind, little boy?"
"Mrr!" Kyle growled deep and low, rising up on his haunches as if ready to spring, his leg and arm muscles already bunching. He had difficulty forming full sentences, his strange face and long teeth making long speeches impossible, but his body spoke well enough for him. He'd had enough of Gryfon's wandering eyes.
So had Remy but what he wanted less was a brawl right here in front of everyone. It would have been an impressive fight, no doubt, but it would probably be a nightmare to stop it once it got started. These two were both dangerous ferals and highly trained in hand to hand combat though Kyle would probably have the upper hand in a fight – beyond having a healing factor to assist, he had been in his current form longer than Gryfon had. You see, both of these guys shared a horror in common though they weren't civil enough with one another to discuss it over tea - neither one had started out as they looked now. Kyle had been poisoned by the Weapon X program with a blood serum from both Logan and Sabretooth, a concoction that made him the half man, half lion creature he was today. Warren's conversion had been voluntary but no less devastating. The Honey had done its evil work and he too was a creature barely in control of himself.
There was no way Remy could allow these two to actually come at each other physically, the collateral damage would be too great. Remy had no sooner opened his mouth to speak when Kimble broke the tension by announcing, "We's here, Capt'n. You wants me in the same spot as last time?"
Kimble being as empathic as Remy, had been aware of the escalating tensions behind him and had used the news to break it up without getting up from his seat.
Remy would gladly take it. "Oui, Kim. Take us down just as we was."
"Aye."
The ship lowered noticeably and it was movement enough that the two antagonists had to concern themselves with not sliding about the floor more than exchanging the evil eye with one another. The moment passed and Remy couldn't help but give an internal sigh of relief.
The ship landed safely in Logan's snow covered backyard and the kids began to unbuckle their belts and depart. Remy stood by patiently as they did so, making sure they all had their packs and snow gear on before they went outside. He had more than just good parenting in mind – when the kids all went down the ramp and outside, Remy stayed behind in the ship on purpose, biding his time so he could deliberately block Gryfon's path before the man could exit. They were alone now and Gambit's look was hard and to the point as he quietly hissed under his breath, "Eyes front, Gryfon, not on de girls or yo' sorry ass ain't goan have clue one what just busted it right into next week, comprenez?"
Remy'd had enough of Gryfon's wandering eyes and wanted him to know it. It wasn't just that Warren was one scary dude these days, the guy was also old enough to be the father of any one of the girls on the squad. It was beyond creepy and Remy was determined to nip it right in the bud.
Warren met his gaze, unfazed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Just the man's lack of surprise was enough of an admission of guilt that Remy backed him right up, not having any of it. His fists closed, glowing faintly red with stored kinetic energy as he boldly threatened, "Dis a real bad time fo' you to be parkin' yo honesty at the door, mon ami. Best you be rethinkin' what you say next."
Outside, Kimble lingered just at the end of the ramp. He looked up to see what was delaying the last two members of this party. Kimble might appear stupid because of his child like manner and lazy accent but he was as quick as they came when it came to matters involving his best friend and Captain. He didn't get the whole gist of what was going on, he was too far away to hear the words, but he moved defensively just the same, his stance changing as he took three steps back up the ramp, wordlessly letting Remy know that the Siskan had his back.
Gryfon saw Kimble hovering with intent and his posture changed, becoming something a bit more submissive. He raised his clawed hands in mock surrender and smiled his cruel liar's smile. "I promise to behave... Captain." This last was said with all the disdain the man felt for Remy's new title and it was plenty.
Remy just snorted in disgust at the idea that this jerk would think he'd fall for so insincere a line and turned his back on the man, not believing a word of it. The last thing he felt like doing was listening to Warren's snarky comments all day. That was okay, he had a solution for that. "D'accorde, den. Stay 'ere and mind de ship. Make sure it stay secure." With that he headed for the door, fully intending to leave the arrogant asshole behind.
"What? Wait!" Warren called after him, his voice all surprise now. He was genuinely stunned at Remy's command. He had fully expected to be taken along, especially since Remy had been ordered to take him in the first place. "You'll need me and you know it. I'm too good to leave behind!"
"Oh no, you ain't," Remy corrected cooly, letting slip an empathic vibration of his absolute sincerity, something the other man could feel. Gambit knew that he had to put the man in his place, one way or the other, or this was never going to work.
Gryfon sighed and raised his hands in surrender again, this time meaning it. "I promise to behave. Please, I need this."
Remy looked at him, chewing on it a full minute, reading the man's shine. That last remark was truthful at least and Remy couldn't help but wonder if Scott had given the guy some kind of ultimatum. Was this mission a test of the guy's field worthiness? Gambit hoped so. It would make Warren take it more seriously. Remy raised a finger and promised, "One slip an' Kimble's gets yo' ass back 'ere snap snap, don't even doubt it, mon ami."
Gryfon knew the threat was genuine. Kimble, being the major telekine of the group and fiercely loyal to the Thief, would have no problem doing just that. His answer was finally sincere as he said, "I won't."
Remy let the guy sweat a couple of seconds before saying, "Bien," and walked out down the ramp.
Kimble was there waiting for him, faithful and true, and the Thief said to him, "Watch de man close," in Siskan as he passed the pilot by. He knew Gryfon would hear it even though he wouldn't fully understand what the command had been. He wanted the man to sweat.
"Aye, Capt'n," came Kimble's quick reply.
It worked. Gryfon's posture and shine were in proper order as he took his place amongst the kids. Just to add to his point, Gambit locked and armed the ship once the ramp was closed, using a regular looking key chain alarm. It chirped back at him just like any ordinary car and Gryfon scowled slightly at the sound of it. If Seth was anything as good as rumored Warren knew the alarm was real - probably even triple safe - and that he would have been forced to remain behind for nothing.
The kids meanwhile had clumped together in a rough muster, getting all of their gear on and ready. It was significantly colder here than the Arizona desert back home and they were already feeling it. Julien was off to one side, fumbling with his pack, trying to get the straps adjusted correctly on his bony frame. For the boy this was always awkward because his left hand was mangled, a twisted ruin that was hardly useable.
This was an old injury, one Julien had already had for a long time before he and Remy had finally met. This wasn't a gift from the infamous Jason Frost, it had come from the boy's abusive step father. Jerry Tanner had been a harsh man, despising the boy not just for being another man's son, but also for being a mutant. One day it had all come to a head and Jerry had dragged a fourteen year old Julien outside, managing to smash his left hand with a large mallet before Julien had been able to defend himself. The man had intended to destroy the right hand as well but it was then, under understandable duress, that Julien's full inheritance from his true father came to the fore. Without meaning to, Julien had charged the hammer with kinetic energy – the first time he had ever done such a thing - and it exploded, fatally wounding the stepfather. Fearing he would be charged with murder, Julien had fled to the streets and ultimately, right into the clutches of Jason Frost, the man who had made Julien's mind the twisted wreck the X-men were so desperately trying to fix.
Julien had since undergone two small surgeries for the damaged hand under the guidance of Hank McCoy, the X-men's chief physician, in order to regain some use of it but it was slow going. The bones had been shattered years ago and had never been reset, they had healed just as they were and there wasn't a lot of hope it could be fully restored. Hank had supplied him with a brace to better stabilize the hand and keep it from injury, but it didn't make the hand any more useful. To aid in that, he was going through a rather painful physical therapy program as well. Julien was stoic about it, enduring the pain with little fuss. He still believed that he had received a just punishment for his crime, for the sin of being not just a mutant, but also a murderer.
Julien was still fumbling with his troublesome pack when Hercules, bored already, came up to him all the better to gruffly sneer, "Need a hand with that, Judas?"
Julien didn't bother to look up at him though he had seen the large green mutant come closer –- Hercules was kind of hard to miss - but his reply was quick and sharp. "Not from an ass kisser like you."
It was Hercules who had given Julien the codename 'Judas' and it was because of him that it had stuck fast. Julien, for his part, was so contemptuous of the would be leader that he accepted the codename and ran with it, refusing to let Remy change it. No, instead he embraced it, pleased that it set him apart from the others. It was like turning the other cheek to an undeserved slap - by accepting it, it exposed Hercules perfectly for the bully he was.
How Julien despised Hercules and his constant schmoozing and kissing up to Gambit in order to curry his favor. Even in all the time he had spent with Frost, Julien's obedience with the powerful man had come from a twisted sort of love, not from a desire for prominence and privilege.
Frost had taught him plenty, the first being that the more mutated a person looked, the deeper their sin. As far as Julien was concerned, Hercules' biggest sins were pride and vanity. Hercules had done little to change that opinion even after both kids had been removed from Frost's care. Hercules was an arrogant bully and since he couldn't pass for human, Julien figured he had gotten what he deserved. Frost had also taught Julien emotional discipline, that suffering was good and a source of spiritual purification. Hercules had never suffered as Julien had and as such Julien had no respect for the lad, only disgust. Hercules could sense this and it drove him nearly mad. Julien was supposed to be the one groveling, not feeling superior.
One of the reasons Remy had chosen Julien for the team in the first place was the hope that he might somehow redeem himself in the eyes of those he supposedly betrayed, Hercules in particular. So far it seemed the pair was going to be antagonistic towards each other for a long time to come until some kind of compromise could be reached, something Remy had serious doubts about happening.
Hercules fisted his hands in response to Julien's haughty tone and TrueBlood laughed eagerly, anticipating what he hoped would be an entertaining fight. TrueBlood, with his scarred face and angry eyes often looked a bit rough around the edges whether he was in uniform or not. Remy had noticed many times the slight bulge in his jacket that betrayed the fact that he had a pack of smokes stashed away in one pocket. That and the long shock of black bangs that often hid the ruined half of his face just screamed 'rebel'. With his face so badly marred, he could never pull off the pretty boy act and so had gone for the James Dean look instead. At home he was dressed in ripped up blue jeans and ragged T-shirts.
Trigger was all too ready to join the party as well and came up, offering to take bets. "I'll put ten on the Judas."
"No way," TrueBlood joked. "Hercules is going to squash his boney little ass."
Trigger just laughed at that. He wasn't any more of a fan of Hercules' drive for power than Julien was, but it was for different reasons. He thought of power grabbing as a waste of time and stupid. There was so much more than could be done with one's time – like getting laid or getting drunk.
Trigger was a younger disciple following in TrueBlood's rebellious footsteps. He was a bit more polished in his tough boy fashion design. He never smelled of smoke, but the reek of alcohol came off his skin often enough during rough practice. The black leather of his uniform was not a new look for him - when not dressed for practice he was all ripped jeans and black leather accessories, including a studded black dog collar he seemed especially fond of. His hair was longer than TrueBlood's, falling in a curly heap just above his shoulders.
"Never underestimate the underlings," Trigger cautioned playfully, though he was speaking from experience in spite of his apparent youth. "Judas there has the whole Trench Coat Mafia thing going on, he just hides it well. He's the kind of kid that just pops one day and brings a gun to school."
Hercules didn't like the discussion at all. He was inwardly pleased with TrueBlood's faith in his ability to squash the smart ass little pipsqueak, but saw Trigger as someone who needed to be put in his place. Hercules turned from Julien to address Trigger directly. "And what would you know about trench coats or guns, you pansy ass little faggot?"
That got Remy moving, heading towards them to break this up before it got out of hand. He had heard some ugly whispers, mostly from Hercules, that Trigger might be gay since he was so standoffish and frequently dressed in leather. There had been some underhanded jokes that followed suggesting that maybe he should ask Kimble and Aiden for advice in that regard or even for an official deflowering. Remy knew better however, he had many times caught the lad watching Grace's ass as she walked by. That and Remy knew it was no accident that on the way here the boy had taken the seat next to Izzie, the pretty little purple fairy girl.
It was this same ugly talk of "who might be what" amongst the kids and even some of the adults that had made Kimble so shy about coming "out" to the world at large. The Siskans had been manufactured by a promiscuous race and so were just as promiscuous by deliberate design. Now they were living with a people that seemed to have a new hangup or rules about what was allowed and what wasn't at every turn. They were constantly fighting against their programming in their attempts to fit in. Kimble's trust levels of this society were pretty low. Remy did his best to keep Kimble away for this and was quick to punish any signs of bigotry in his team. He wouldn't stand for it in drills and he wasn't going to let it slide now.
Before Remy could get close enough to disrupt Hercules' challenge, Kyle made his own displeasure known, this time a lot less quietly than he had in the Dragon. Kyle had been squatting quietly all this time, leaning against a nearby tree as he watched the kids verbally joust amongst themselves. He now stood up, clenching his clawed hands into fists and coughing a rough bark in warning at the boys, showing more than a little fang.
The reaction to Kyle's unexpected outburst was mixed – most of the kids silenced at once and shrank back. Kyle was no stranger to the squad, they had seen his bright orange prison coveralls when he came to practice and knew where he was sleeping. As much as Trigger and TrueBlood dressed like punks and tried to give off an air of cool dangerousness, they all knew Kyle was the real deal. He had supposedly done unspeakable things and probably would again, given the chance.
Still, true to his own recklessness, Trigger couldn't stop himself from sniggering and sing songing, " 'Who let the dogs out?' " in harmony with the popular song. He had found Kyle's barking funny and momentarily forgot just how stupid it might be to say so aloud.
Done with fooling around – not that he had been all along, actually – Kyle briskly changed direction and moved towards Trigger with deadly or at least harmful intent. What Trigger had failed to understand in spite of all the background information the kids had been given on Kyle and ferals in general, was that teasing was seen as challenges to their dominance. One thing Kyle had done a lot of in his time was protect his place in a pack and had done so against far more fearsome opponents than these young punks. Already wound up some from the remarks made by Gryfon, Kyle was more than ready to show someone, anyone, that he wasn't going to tolerate being pushed. He was more than strong enough to do it.
"Quit de shit!" Remy snapped with a sharp clap of his hands for emphasis, finally reaching the end of his patience. First Gryfon, now this. They were wasting so much time. He boldly stepped in between Kyle and Trigger, inwardly hoping that Kyle would back down and not put his body armor to the test. Remy had never been in a position where he had to bring Kyle down and though he had been known to wager every now and again, wouldn't put high money on his ability to do so without serious injury. Still he was the boss and unlike Trigger, he remembered all the feral training he had been given. As with Gryfon, the boy had to be put in his place and hard or he would always be challenging Remy at every turn.
Lucky for Remy, Kyle reacted instantly to the dominant male in front of him and froze in mid stride, claws out, panting heavily as his brain suddenly, almost painfully, switched gears from a pleasant morning kill to obedient submission. "Mrr!" he snarled, unable to contain his vocal frustration as well as he could his body from moving.
"Back off!" Remy barked and Kyle did so, retreating a few steps and opening his hands. His shine was dark with colors, though. The body might have obeyed, but the desire to hunt was still there, barely held in check. It was time to get this show on the road, Kyle needed the distraction to quiet those darker urges and they needed to get this done.
Gambit turned to the group and let his disappointment rain down on them all. They were not usually this disorganized and snappy with one another and Remy was damned if he was going to let this become a regular habit with them. "Espere! Look at y'all! You can't even take t'ree steps wit'out 'avin' a fight. How you goan ever catch de bad guy, you all fightin' like a bunch of little enfans?"
Hercules, ever the ass kisser he was, was the first to raise his hands and back off. He was more interested in performing well today and making a good impression than knocking Julien down, something he could do at any time. "Sorry, boss."
"If you was out dere, alone an lost, is dis de way you'd want yo' rescuers to be actin' on deir way to savin' yo' ass? Bickerin' so much amongst deyselves dat dey don't get one damn t'ing done? Really?"
"No, boss," Hercules replied again, getting it. "It won't happen again."
Remy nodded and waved a hand, getting this started. He gave the kids a quick debrief of the situation, explaining that Logan had gone missing and that they were tasked with finding him. This was just a drill, but it was going to be a challenge to their skills so he wanted them to make a good show of this. That done, he gave the first order, "Kyle, you out front. I want you on point and trackin', tell me what you see."
"Mrr!" Kyle agreed and eagerly took off in a fast trot, crouched low.