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Raven
Scalphunter's hit had been followed by an injection, and whatever drug they gave her lasted the trip to Cairo.
Raven was aware enough that the helicopter had landed, and that she had spent most of the trip with her head resting in that bastard Greycrow's lap, but of what had been said she had no memory. Over the years she had learned to hold a shape - asleep or awake, unconscious or not - until she triggered another transformation, and this skill was the only thing that had saved her so far from a slit throat. If she ran into a power dampener, she was fucked.
Scalphunter flung her over his shoulder again and though she tried, her arms and legs did little more than twitch at her command. With her head facing the man's backside she couldn't see what was happening, but the sounds she heard turned her insides. The sobs and screams of the other captives were met with the sickening crunch of flesh on bone and the electric sizzle of Tasers.
Logan was a problem she had not anticipated. Where was he? The Elixir seemed to be working for Raven so far, no crazed telepath had outed her the second they landed, though she was sure the true test was coming in the form of this 'Emma' Storm had spoken of, presumably Emma Frost, Farouk's favorite psychic. But Logan? She knew he had taught himself to shield his thoughts with some meditation garbage Raven had never been able to master, but that technique was on more of a passive level. She didn't know if his shielding would hold up against a direct, brain peeling assault. She feared for her old friend, but feared for herself the most if he caught wind of her scent.
Worst of all, Rogue had become a gnawing distraction in the pit of her stomach. Where the hell was the girl? Was she here? Had she been captured? Raven needed to find out. If Farouk had finally gotten his hands on her, Raven knew she shared the blame.
All the years spent trying to gain entrance, and the only view Raven got of Farouk's Egyptian palace was John Greycrow's behind. She added John's name to her list, imagining how she would make him beg and suffer before she gouged his eyes out. She tried to listen closely as she was drug off to her doom or whatever Emma had in store for her, but the palace was vast and there was too much activity. It was difficult to tell how many rooms they passed, and she lost count of how many turns they had taken, though they were clearly climbing floors. There was a humiliating bounce against Greycrow's butt-cheek up several staircases, and the air grew steadily warmer.
"Enter,"a woman's voice purred through an intercom before Scalphunter had the chance to knock. Raven caught a glimpse of Persian carpet laid over hand-painted tiles.
"Wish you wouldn't do that, Frost," Scalphunter grumbled and tossed Raven's limp body onto a fainting couch. She couldn't brace herself and her head crashed into the back, her arm twisted awkwardly above. "At least let me pretend you ain't reading my mind."
"Yes, well, we both know it's hardly Pulitzer Prize winning material up there, don't we John?"
Even with her eyes closed, Raven could sense the tension between the two mutants. Both were obviously high up on Farouk's food chain, but Raven doubted the Shadow King fostered teamwork amongst his minions.
The cloying smell of gardenia blossoms enveloped Raven. "And what do we have here?" A soft hand untwisted Raven's arm and felt for the pulse at her wrist, then placed a palm against her forehead.
"Storm wanted you to check her out personally, guess she's one of the King's favorites," Scalphunter grunted. "Alison Blaire, the…"
"Yes," Emma interrupted. "The Dazzler. A rather limited musical talent, but I could see where some would find her…appealing."
Raven felt a strange digging sensation at the edges of her mind, like someone trying to pry a lid off of a stuck container. Emma grabbed Raven's chin and forced her head from side to side.
"Strange. I remember the news stories concerning her rather sordid fall from grace, but I don't remember ever hearing that she was resistant to telepathy."
"No shit?" Greycrow mused.
Raven's insides squirmed. She was still in danger, but at least the Elixir seemed to be doing its job.
"Well, I'm getting nothing from her other than an awareness that a mutant is draped across my chaise. So, unless you inflicted a severe amount of brain damage on her during your trip to my office, I would say her mind is a locked door."
"Storm's not going to like that," Greycrow countered.
"I would think not. I'm sure there are other ways to vet this woman - fingerprints, retinal scans or other things of the sort - if Ororo insists. The Dazzler lost her powers along with her career so she shouldn't pose much of a physical threat, but one can't be too careful. I'll question her once she regains consciousness, but I suppose Ororo will want reassurances and a way to restrain her, if she doesn't want to throw the woman straight into the incinerator, that is."
Raven cursed herself when her heart skipped a beat. Emma's fingers were still curled around her wrist, and those fingers lightly stroked Raven's skin.
"Be a dear, John, and let Ororo know?"
"You gonna be okay up here with her by yourself?" Greycrow's voice had moved towards the door, and Emma laughed.
"I can handle her. If it makes you feel like a man, you are certainly welcome to watch."
A grunt and a slam signaled Scalphunter's exit, and Raven felt Emma get up from the sofa. There was the sound of opening drawers and rummaging, then the woman's weight alongside her again.
"Nasty stuff they gave you," Emma whispered. "Let's see if I can't fix that."
The sharp jab of a hypodermic needle would have made Raven jump if she could move. Seconds later, heat spread from the needle Emma held under her skin, and Raven forced her eyes open.
"There you are," Emma smiled and slowly withdrew the needle. "Better?"
Raven swallowed and did her best to nod, but control of her body was slow in coming.
"Yes, darling, I know," Emma simpered, and brushed the hair from Raven's forehead. "It's all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
Emma Frost was not yet thirty, but hers was a beauty that demanded upkeep. Platinum blonde hair flat-ironed to within an inch of its life in the desert air framed a face coated in a thick layer of makeup. Fake breasts threatened to burst free from the white silk corset the woman wore, screaming more porn star than serious threat to Raven, but it would be dangerous to judge someone like Frost at face value. There was a reason this woman had climbed the Shadow King's ranks, and Raven would have to tread lightly if she expected to survive.
The Elixir was proving to be a doubled-edged sword - it was protecting her mind from telepathic probes, but it had also piqued Frost's curiosity. If no one could read Raven's mind, no one could verify who she was, Alison Blaire or otherwise, and no one could verify her intentions. It may be that she was more of a risk than she was worth, unless Raven could continue to play the part of the helpless pop star.
"Please," Raven panted through the start of crocodile tears. "What…what is going to happen to me?"
Frost leaned closer and patted Raven's cheek. "That is the question, darling. You've been a naughty girl, haven't you, hiding yourself from the Shadow King? And, now you're here, and I can't read your mind to tell him why." The fingers resting on Raven's cheek trailed down to trace the neckline of her ruined evening gown, and she had to stop herself from snapping Frost's arm in two. "I could say that makes you a very dangerous woman. Or...I could not." Frost leaned over and brushed her lips against Raven's.
"The choice is yours, Alison."
Remy
The apartment Yukio hid them in was spacious by Tokyo standards, beautifully decorated with a minimalist touch of light wood and rice paper screens, but Remy soon realized it wasn't quite large enough, and seemed to be getting smaller by the second.
He was restless. The pair of them had been pent up together in that freighter for days without a shred of privacy. The constant fear of being caught had kept Remy's thoughts off of other matters, for the most part anyway, but now that they had a place to sit and somewhere warm to sleep for the night, his mind headed straight for the gutter. Every time he turned around he was brushing up against Rogue, the scent of her even after too many days on that ship kicking his libido into overdrive.
He shook his head to clear it. First thing first - they needed a plan, somewhere to go in the morning, but his mind was losing focus watching Rogue pace around the room, tripping her long fingers curiously over the simple wooden furniture. Remy sat perched along the edge of the bed, low to the ground but raised on a platform in the center of the room. Only the one bed. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees in an effort to hide the raging hard on making its presence known. Merde, he thought, how was he going to make it through the night?
Rogue had discarded the stolen hoodie on a nearby chair. Her dress – which, in mint condition, had left little to the imagination - was a shambles. Remy ran a hand across his jaw and held his breath. They were running for their lives, he reminded himself, she had powers that made anything he was imagining impossible. Or, the throbbing between his legs urged, he just needed the opportunity to get a little creative.
"You wanna go first?"
Her voice, the first words either of them had uttered since Yukio left, made him jump.
He blinked up at her rapidly. "Pardon?"
"A shower." She gestured to one of the sliding panels. "You want first crack, or should I?"
Gallantry won out over the days of filth covering his body. "Where I come from, chere," he smirked, "it's always ladies first." He really hadn't meant it as dirty as it sounded, but Rogue's cheeks burned a bright pink.
"Th…thanks," she mumbled and snatched the change of clothes Yukio had given her on the way to the bathroom, closing the screen behind her.
Remy exhaled loudly. This girl was killing him. If the Shadow King didn't take him out, then his balls were going to fucking explode and finish the job.
He had no idea what their next move should be. They needed to get out of Tokyo, but he didn't think the rest of Japan was going to be any better for them. Anywhere in Europe or Africa was out of the question, most of Asia just as dicey. Rogue had talked about growing up in the Canadian Rockies. If they could get across the Pacific, maybe Canada would be a good place to hole up? Things were pretty rough in the states when he left and he needed to steer clear of the Midwest, but there were fewer people to avoid north of the border. They could get a cabin in the wilderness somewhere, some little place by a lake where he could lay her down by the fire…
He was alone for the first time in days, and his hand found its way into his pants as he imaged every dirty thing he had wanted to do to Rogue since they met in Madripoor. He couldn't keep walking around with a loaded gun, he reasoned. He'd have to make it fast and clean himself up in the shower, and his mind conjured up the thought of her dripping wet and naked, screaming his name…
"Remy?"
He wrenched his hand from his pants just before the paper screen to the bathroom slid open and Rogue's head popped out.
"Yeah, chere?" he croaked breathlessly, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn't been caught like that since he was a damned teenager, but Rogue seemed not to have noticed.
"Can you…come help me?" She was chewing her bottom lip, something he noticed she did when she was nervous or lost in thought.
"Sure t'ing." He stood only when she disappeared back into the bathroom, and walked like he imagined a cowboy would, wide legged and slow.
Inside, the bathroom was marble floors and walls. A large wooden tub sat in an alcove on the opposite side of the room from a shower stall. Rogue had started the tub filling, and the steam clouded over the mirror above the sink and the glass surrounding the shower.
Rogue turned her back to him and lifted her thick curls from the nape of her neck. "My zipper's stuck," she confessed.
Remy swallowed. "You picked the right man for the job, chere. Ain't never been a safe I couldn't crack."
Their eyes met in the mirror, but he cleared his throat and moved his gaze to the back of her dress. The teeth of the zipper had gotten tangled in what was left of the delicate fabric, and after a generous amount of tugging, he was able to pull it open. His eyes returned to the mirror as he slid it slowly down.
"Thanks, sugar," she whispered. When he made to leave the room, she lightly touched his shoulder. Facing him, she held the front of her dress with one hand, the curve of her bare back visible in the mirror. "You could stay," she implored, and Remy's mouth fell open.
"Quoi?"
With her free hand, Rogue pointed to the tub. "You could stay. I know you're tired. There's a privacy screen that I could pull closed so you can shower while I take a bath." Her cheeks flared pink again for even suggesting it, but she babbled on. "I just thought that we could talk about what we're gonna do next, and it would save time so we could get into bed…so we could get some rest sooner."
He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "Now, you not just trying to catch a little peek of me in my birthday suit, are you chere?"
She rolled her eyes and practically slammed the sliding screen separating them. He chuckled to himself as he started the shower and peeled the filthy bodysuit from his skin.
"So, what's our next move?" Rogue's voice was a little muffled when he stepped under the water.
The warm jets soaked his hair and poured down the corded muscles of his back. "What you think of Canada?" he shouted. When he opened his eyes, he could see the silhouette of her body behind the paper screen.
"I think it's cold," she dismissed, stripping her dress off and kicking it aside. It may have been just the darkened shadow of her naked body, but Remy could see every curve in crisp detail.
"You don't like Canada?" he asked, and his hand closed around the erection that had never gone away. Rogue paused before stepping into the tub, and twisted her hair on top of her head.
"No, it's not that."
Her silhouette bent over to test the water, and Remy imagined climbing into the tub with her.
"Just wondering if a lil' ol' swamp rat like you could handle so much snow," she teased. "That's all."
There was the splash of the water as she broke the surface, the thought sending Remy over the edge. He leaned one arm against the marble of the shower wall and finished himself off, shuddering to completion. He leaned back under the water and let it trail down his skin like the warm massage of fingers.
"Believe me, chere, ain't nothing I can't handle."
Though Remy was exhausted, he had tried to offer Rogue the bed, electing to sleep on one of the bamboo mats, but she had dismissed his chivalry with a wave of her gloved hand. Instead, he was stretched out on his back on top of the crisp sheets, what passed for pillows lined up between him and Rogue like a fort.
"So…how would we get to Canada?" Rogue was lying on her side facing him, her damp curls spread across her pillow. "Another freighter?"
Remy turned his face to hers. "Non. No more freighters."
"Then how?" she prodded. "We got no passports, no money…"
"I can get us money," Remy interjected, and Rogue scowled.
"Ya can't steal it!" Her decibel level was rising with her irritation, and Remy leaned towards her.
"We don't have much choice here, Rogue. Your scruples ain't worth more than your life, least not to me."
Her eyes flashed, but she didn't respond. Remy had done plenty of things he wasn't proud of in his young life, and he'd be damned if he didn't use his talents to protect this girl.
"I'll get us the money, then we can buy anything we need, passports included. Yukio will know people."
Rogue snorted. "Cause she's been so helpful so far," she muttered, but Remy held her gaze with his in the dim light.
"Hasn't she? I know she's kickin' us out come tomorrow, but she puttin' her life on the line for us, cherie. Believe that."
Rogue didn't say anything, and turned away from him onto her other side. Remy knew that despite her tough attitude, Rogue was just as scared as he was. How had they gotten so deep into this mess? It had only been dumb luck that had kept them from getting caught so far, but how long would that hold? Didn't matter, Remy told himself. He was with her until the end.
"Rogue?" He reached over the pillows and touched her shoulder. "Everything gon' be fine, chere."
She stayed silent, and Remy worried for a tortured heartbeat that he had overstepped, but she closed her fingers around his.
"Promise?" she asked.
"Promise."
He was knee deep in an old nightmare when his eyes snapped open, the phantom image of ghostly skin and glowing red eyes replaced by reality and the glow of streetlights through the windows.
Rogue was curled up against the pillows between them, fast asleep and breathing softly. He could hear the hum of traffic below, but something wasn't right, something had roused him, more than just reliving old terrors. His years of training put his senses on high alert, and he reached under his own pillow to find the deck of cards hidden there. His movement woke Rogue.
"Wha izzit…" she mumbled drowsily, but Remy was already on his feet.
"We need to go, cherie," he whispered, pawing through the dark for their shoes. Everything else they owned was on their backs.
She sat bolt upright. "Remy, what?"
He held up a hand to quiet her. Voices in the hallway. Gruff, whispered - English. Rogue was out of bed and shoving her feet into borrowed shoes without him saying anything else. The voices were moving their direction, blocking the apartment's main exit. That left them the windows, but they were twenty stories up with no fire escape, and his rappelling wire hadn't survived Madripoor. He stuffed his own feet into his boots, and Rogue bent over beside him.
"Air vents," she hissed into his ear, gesturing to a metal grate close to the ceiling.
Quick and quiet as they could, they pried open the vent's cover and Remy laced his fingers to help her climb up. His ears strained for the sound of footsteps growing closer. When Rogue was clear, he hoisted himself into the narrow space. She was moving through the vent ahead of him, and with his palms against the slick sides he shimmied in. The grate's cover clapped shut behind him. He could crawl, but just barely, and caught up to Rogue in time to hear the splintering of the door to the apartment they had left behind. Rogue froze at the rip of machine gun fire that followed, but Remy shoved her forward with a hand on her backside.
Move, move, move, he wanted to scream, but they could only go so fast without the rippling noise of metal giving them away. There was light ahead - another vent that led to the floor's shared hallway. Remy caught Rogue's ankle and gave it a warning squeeze. Whoever was tearing up Yukio's safe house apartment could have more people waiting out in the hall.
Ignoring the heat and the feeling of her body pressed against his, Remy squeezed alongside Rogue to peer out of the metal grate. Sure enough, a young Asian man in a suit was leaning back against the opposite wall of the hall below, impatiently inspecting his fingernails. Staying out of the light, Remy got as close as he could, pinning Rogue between himself and the metal to catch a closer look. The guy was all too familiar. A woman joined him, and Remy's heart stopped. The woman stood a head taller than the man, and she was as broad as a football player, her short hair dyed a deep purple. Scrambler was his name, and she was Arclight, two mutants who were members of the Marauders - the Shadow King's favorite band of mercenaries. Remy's earlier nightmare bubbled up like a bad piece of fish in his belly.
"This was a waste of time," Arclight grumbled, and leaned next to her teammate against the wall.
"No shit?" Scrambler snickered. "We've only been two steps behind them since Madripoor."
Remy did his best to let Rogue have a look, and her heart beat a jackhammer against his chest. Their faces were close enough together to feel the electricity between them. He so wanted to kiss her, powers be damned. If they were about to die, Remy couldn't think of a better way to go.
A shadow fell across the floor of the hallway. "We should have brought Creed," a gruff voice conceded, and it was all Remy could do to keep still. The third mutant that had joined the pair in the hall was a man Remy knew as John Greycrow - Scalphunter. Greycrow and his soldiers had secured their place in Farouk's world by trading on the misery of others.
"Bed's still warm," Scalphunter grunted. "They ain't far."
Green eyes as big as saucers met Remy's. They were sitting ducks, especially if the Marauders had any of Farouk's telepaths in tow. He wanted to tell Rogue he would fight for her, give his life for hers, and tried to pour all of that feeling into his stare. They would make it. Somehow, someway, he was going to get her out of this.
"Check the other apartments on this floor," Scalphunter barked. "Maybe they heard us comin' and somebody's hiding them."
The three mutants disappeared from sight, and Remy untangled from Rogue and crawled further along the vent. At the end of the hall was a bank of elevators and the stairs. In the crawl space ahead, another spill of light signaled an opening in the wall. Remy paused to listen. There were new sounds - doors being kicked in, screams that twisted his insides, innocent people pleading in Japanese, begging for mercy. In the faint light, Rogue's face mirrored their torment. People were being hurt because of them. But, what could they do? They were outgunned, outnumbered, and all alone in a foreign land. Call him a selfish motherfucker, Remy thought, but his life and her life were all that mattered, and he wanted to keep them out of the Marauders' sights.
He shoved open the vent cover and checked to make sure the bastards were still occupied, then dropped into the hall on a whisper. Gritting his teeth, Remy fought the impulse to charge into the neighboring apartment with all cards blazing. All that would do was get him killed and Rogue captured, and then what would happen to her? What would happen to him? He had escaped Essex once – his father's life the cost of his freedom – and Remy didn't know if he was strong enough to do it again.
He caught Rogue when she dropped down next to him, and the look on her face ripped him to pieces. Dammit. Their escape was right over her shoulder, but Remy knew they couldn't just stand by and let those animals torture innocent people, he'd never be able to live with himself.
Instead of heading down the stairs, Remy stepped softly towards the apartment nearest them, the door hanging from its hinges like a loose tooth. Inside, furniture was overturned, paintings ripped from the wall and torn, vases smashed. A couple huddled together on the floor in their pajamas, and Scrambler stood over them and laughed hysterically with his back to the doorway. Remy stepped up and tapped Scrambler on the shoulder. When the man turned, Remy cocked a fist back and laid him out cold with one punch. Scrambler crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap, and Rogue nodded in fierce approval. One down, two to go, Remy thought, but Scrambler was the easy one.
Pulling a card from his pocket, Remy charged it and headed back into the hall where Arclight was waiting.
"Scalp!" she shrieked from two doors down.
Remy snatched Rogue's hand and they raced for the stairs. Arclight bent down and clapped her hand against the floor, rolling a wave of seismic energy towards them. The floor buckled and pitched them forward. Remy turned and threw the card before he slammed into the elevator's doors. The kinetically charged card hit Arclight in the shoulder and knocked her into Scalphunter emerging from an apartment across the hall.
"LeBeau!" Scalphunter challenged and tossed the wounded Arclight aside, bringing a long rifle to bear.
Remy sent a handful of cards, watching the methodical slow motion moves of the sharpshooter getting them in his sights. Rogue jumped up and hit the elevator button. The doors opened, and the pair of them tumbled backwards, the wood above his head exploding in a shotgun blast, Remy still tossing cards. Dragging him inside, Rogue closed the door and the two huddled in the corner as a hail of bullets peppered the elevator's doors. For a heartbeat, Remy thought it was the end, that the bullets had ruined the elevator and their escape. The lights flickered, but the car shuddered slowly downward.
Rogue held a hesitant hand to his cheek. "You okay?" she implored and patted the front of his shirt in search of bullet holes.
"We not safe yet, cherie," Remy reminded her, but squeezed her hand.
"I know, it's just…" She glanced over his shoulder to the back corner of the elevator car, and her mouth dropped open in a silent, horrified scream.
Remy shook her hard by the shoulders. "Rogue!?" He caught the thick, rusty smell of blood before he turned his head.
Sharing the elevator with them was Yukio's lifeless body, slumped in a dark red pool. She had taken one of Scalphunter's high caliber bullets to the chest, and her unseeing eyes accused Remy from the grave. He had brought her into this mess, and her death was on his hands.
The elevator hit the ground floor. They didn't have much of a lead on Scalphunter, and didn't know how many more assailants could be waiting for them. The Marauders' numbers fluctuated with every job, the Guild could never predict who they could run afoul of when it came to the band of mercenaries. Even Marauders thought killed in action would resurface time and again, unpredictability one of the group's strongest assets.
The doors slid open, and they edged slowly from the car. Remy kept one hand on Rogue behind him, and one hand armed and ready. The pair shuffled into the lobby. Broken glass littered the marble floor, and more blood spread from behind the security desk, a pair of legs surrounded by a sea of crimson. Rogue broke free from Remy's grasp and knelt next to the horizontal security guard to check for a pulse. She shook her head and retrieved the guard's gun. They moved for the exit.
The apartment where Yukio had hid them was on as deserted street as one could find in Tokyo, but even so the eerie stillness that greeted them outside sent shivers down Remy's spine. They needed to run, to find a new place to hide, but Remy felt like his feet were glued to the floor. Scalphunter would be right behind them. Why was he unable to make himself step through the spider-webbed glass of the entrance?
"C'mon, sugar," Rogue urged and tugged on his arm, but two steps onto the sidewalk a wall of flames burst from nowhere, blocking their path. The intense heat drove them back towards the building, but another wall erupted behind them.
"Halt, gaijin!"
Overhead, a mutant made of flames hovered. The fire that surrounded them was at his command, and with outstretched fingers, the temperature of the furnace increased.
Through the smoke, Remy saw Rogue take aim with the gun, but the bullets were swallowed by the raging inferno pressing in on them. The scorching heat brought tears to Remy's eyes and burned his throat raw. His charged cards only popped against the flames, the snap of wet wood in a campfire. Too high to jump, too hot to run through, the circle closed in on them.
"Sunfire!" Scalphunter emerged from the building behind them. Remy pushed Rogue to the ground and shielded her body with his own. "You idiot!" Scalp raged. "We need 'em alive!"
Remy could hear Sunfire's laugher from the ground. "But," the flaming mutant mocked. "Alive doesn't mean unharmed!" The mutant barbecue's flames jumped.
Remy grabbed Rogue's face in his hands, her wild hair keeping their blistering skin from touching. "I'm so sorry, chere," he breathed against her lips. "I…"
An implosion of air and the unexpected smell of brimstone filled their space. Remy thought for a moment they had died and gone to hell as crouched next to them was a blue-furred demon, complete with yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and a forked tail that curled around Rogue's ankle.
"Guten tag, mein freunds."
The devil had a German accent. The demon, dressed in a black and red bodysuit, held a three-fingered hand towards them. "Bit hot in here, wouldn't you agree?"
To Remy's surprise, Rogue, still wrapped in his arms, held her gloved hand out to the man. With a wink, the demon bent to kiss it. At the moment of contact, the world turned itself inside out, along with Remy's stomach. Everything went black, and Remy felt his whole body sucked through a straw and spit back out again.
When the world righted itself, Remy turned his head and vomited. It took him a second to relate that his puke had spattered against a cold metallic floor, not a charbroiled sidewalk. The flames were gone. Rogue wretched next to him, but he wasn't steady enough to lift a finger to help her.
"I am sorry, fraulein," their savior the demon whispered gently. "The first trip is always difficult, I am told, made worse with passengers."
From his hands and knees, Remy forced his head up. The blue-furred man was helping a shaky Rogue into a seat perched in front of an electronic control panel. Remy stared blankly at the dancing lights. His eyes trailed around what appeared to be the cockpit of a very sophisticated jet, and it felt like they were airborne.
"Th…thank you." Rogue was still clutching the demon's hand.
The man bowed. "Damsels in distress are my specialty, fraulein."
Remy wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Who are you?" he croaked.
Behind him, a door swished open and a beautiful woman stepped through. Her hair was a wild mane of neon green, and she was followed by a younger man with sandy blonde hair, the pair dressed to match the demon's garb. All three of them wore an earpiece that resembled a futuristic Bluetooth.
"What a wonderful smell you've found, Kurt." The woman wrinkled her nose and stepped around Remy with a distasteful look.
"I'm on it, boss," the younger man proclaimed. An ice cold breeze shot from his outstretched fingers, and Remy's puddle of vomit froze into pink chunky crystals.
"Frozen puke is still puke, Bobby." The woman climbed into the pilot's seat and hit a button on the dash. "Blackbird to base. This is Polaris. We're headed your way, and we're bringing company."
"Hey!" Remy barked, commanding their attention as he staggered to his feet. "You didn't answer my question. Just who the hell are you people?"
The green haired woman – Polaris - swiveled her chair around. "We are the people who saved your ass back there! Just who do the hell do you think you are?"
The demon – Kurt - stepped between them. "Peace, Lorna. He asks a valid question." He turned to Remy, and those yellow eyes twinkled. "Tell me, mein freund - have you ever heard of…the X-Men?"