Primal Forces: Cyclops' Twelve

Summary:
March 13 2015: The X-Men move to recover some dangerous artifacts from a HYDRA supporter. Oceans Eleven turns into Immortals pretty damn fast.

Hamptions Mansions

From the Hamptons to Vesuvius, life is never dull for the X_Men


Characters

NPCs

  • Saskia
  • Minotaur

Mood Music:
[* None]


There are plenty of things in the world that are, honestly, in the wrong hands. Most things are, depending on whom you ask. And largely the 'right hands' or the 'wrong hands' is a matter of opinion and judgement. However, some things are a bit more… obvious.

Take the personal collection of one Thomas Pohl, billionaire at large. The man has more money than he could hope to spend and a fondness for rare art. That's what's publically known. What is not publically known, but known to the X-Men via the targeting list Lunair provided to them, is that Mister Pohl is not just a coal baron. He's a coal baron with ties to several companies known to be HYDRA fronts. With a fondness for not just rare art, but often ill gotten art. Like the trove of stolen Nazi art that he is rumored to have taken into his Hamptons mansion not two weeks ago. From, if the rumors and the list is correct, the personal collection of famed Nazi occultist and butcher Heinrich Himmler. Exactly why he has these things is a good question, but none of likely answers are good.

At present the ill gotten goods are on display in one of the large mansion's 'galleries', behind a lot of glass, alarms, guards and dogs.

***

"You just keep playin' look out, Sc-Cyclops. Gambit has this." The Cajun comm-channels to the X-Men Leader while doing his Mission Impossible thing through a set of revealed laser signals, inching along on his stomach then neatly twisting over a pressure pad.
"This what I do. One can say I am in my element."

How did the rogue get inside? Who knows. He leapt at the chance to do this task and has intentionally been putting himself ahead of Mr.Summers in getting things going with it since Lunair gave them this list, it is making him feel revelant or something, who knows. The dogs he evaded, the gaurds likewise, the traps, he is playing around a bit, being cocky.
"How it looking out there? You see lady Pohl yet? I heard she a real looker. Maybe I disable some of these alarms and we sneak some cameras in here…" Yeah, that ain't creepy or nothin' but he's in the bro-zone right now. No women on the coms, no PR to worry about. Really he doubts Cyclops will just 'play lookout'. "Never understand these gimmicks for security, these people see Ocean's 11 and they want all this television style'n stupidity… "
Remy can at times talk a lot. It's one of his many quirks.

***

This whole deal is quite alright with Cyclops. He can be stealthy to a point, but when it comes to breaking, entering, and acquiring, he's got eyebeams. Optic blasts aren't exactly a quiet affair. Leaving Gambit in charge of the operation is beneficial in another manner; his little speech has drawn a lot of people to him for what he likes to refer to as 'administrative purposes', and nobody enjoys paperwork, not even Scott Summers.

Cyclops has found his birds nest; having scaled a water tower nearby. For this night operation, he's adopted an all black uniform; no blue trim, no X-insignia. This is, essentially, as close to Black Ops as the Blue Team gets. Only the tactical visor adds color, along with the pale color of his exposed lower face.

"We're good up here," he comms back, voice quiet and hushed. "Nothing but the smell of wealth and privilege."

His tactical visor is set for macro-mode; giving him a clear visage of whatever he needs to see. Peripheral data feeds in, alerting him to any motion that is sensed in a 180 degree arc from wherever he's looking. If someone approaches, that visor is going to catch it and ping him to look at it.

"More a fan of Oceans 12," he quips. There is a pause, during which he smirks a bit. "Catherine Zeta-Jones and all." He's not as creepy or crass, but believe it or not, Cyclops isn't beyond bro-ing it out a bit on an op like this.

***

There's an alert. Motion near Remy registering on Scott's visory. The Cajun may be able to hear voices and footsteps as two men approach down a purpendicular hallway. "It's always pleasant to speak to a man of conviction, Deacon." That'd be Pohl himself. He has a houseguest it seems.

"And for my part." Comes a deeper voice. "It's nice to speak to a man who understands the nature of the threat we face. These degenerates, these… mutants… they believe themselves the next step in human evolution. Such a thing can only lead to one inevitable outcome: Genocide. Theirs or ours."

"Not everything is so black and white, Deacon. I have friends who believe that these mutants may have important uses in the future. Why don't we come to the drawing room and I'll show you…"

The voices fade as they pass by the art gallery, leaving Remy undiscoverd. Incidentally, Scott can see now, on the floor above Remy, evidence that the Cajun was right about Lady Pohl. Twenty years the man's junior (he's nearing sixty) and… well, 'very attractive' is the polite and slightly understated way to put it. She's also moving about vaguely in Remy's direction but nothing alarming yet.

Remy himself manages to evade yet another ridiculous Mission Impossible style security measure. Deactivating them now shouldn't take too long. The electrical panal is juuuuuust beyond that next laser fence… and pressure plate… and camera.

***

"Beautiful smell eh, homme?" Gambit says while he straightens himself up and tugs at his own collar. The form fitted black and grey outfit he is wearing shows no insiginias.
"Imagine if she look like Miss Zeta-Jones. I'd be in there already and this place be getting served divorce papers in a month. No joke."
The voices have Remy putting his back to a wall and listening, actually angling his earpiece out enough so that Cyclops can hear them as well. Remaining there until they pass out of sight.
"Chumps." The Cajun exhales and sets to weaving his way around the next bit of the security gauntlet only to pause out of the sweep of the camera, a small device clipped to a card and he throws it so it stick to the wall beside the surveillance device. It'll patch the video feed to another camera in the mansion one he passed further back of a boring and similar hall. It should easily be overlooked if the security in this place is lazy if they're not and they pay close attention it won't hold up long.
Electrical panel approached Gambit sets to work disabling it. "I think we okay now if you wanna come in. Just follow de bread crumbs, Cyke. You should be able to just walk right in now, jus' don't get no dogs or nothin' on you."

Word from Scott or appearance of the man and he'll proceed to the Art Gallery.

***

"Eh." As if they don't have enough Wealth and Privilege (tm) at the end of Greymalkin Lane. Remy's remark about divorce papers actually gets a short laugh over the comm; a single scoff snorted back before it can become a distraction.

"Got movement. Hallway intersecting your position." Cyclops reports it as soon as he sees it. No further banter for a moment… the two men are tracked; a simple tap of a finger trigger is all it would take to send an optic blast through the window and into each man's chest, or feet, depending on how he felt.

A grimace as the men get close to Gambit, but when they pass by, he exhales silently.

Another scan of the building and Lady Pohl is seen. "Damn… she is a looker. Next floor up." Hey, he's a hot blooded male; surely Jean has her spank bank. "Is it outside our operating parameters to take prisoners? Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is." He's joking, too; but one of the things that makes Scott a good leader happens to be his ability to adjust to the team's needs. He prefers silence, but right now, he has the distinct impression that a bit of chatter helps Gambit to focus. So, chatter it is.

"Alright." Reaching over, he clips a magnetic zip-line to the catwalk railing that encircles the water tower, then checks the line where it's attached to his belt. "The dame's sort of headed your way. She's wearing a mean set of heels." Remy ought to hear them clacking against whatever fine hardwood floor they've lined the mansion with.

In the next moment, Cyclops is dropping from the water tower, gloves pressed against the zipline to control his fall.

***

This place could double as a Bond set. The guards are all in suits. Probably have Walthers or something under them in shoulder rigs. The dogs are all rottweilers or dobermans. The floors are all (as observed) hardwood. And yes, the click-clack of Lady Pohl's heels can be heard on the floor above receeding into the distance.

There's internal security too but Remy's subverted a lot of it. Now it's just a question of avoiding the guards and getting to the gallery.

Which is… well, another Bond piece. It makes sense, really. The gallery is designed to show off. So it's all pedastals and glass cases with lights shining on the various goods to display them. Expensive art hanging on the walls. The centerpiece is the new arrivals, a number of 'artifacts' of varying age including a diadem, a scepter and what looks oddly like an ornate plum line. These are allegedly from somewhere in Norway and all sitting on a cushion like the flipping crown jeweles.

***

Gambit peels free of the shadows he'd been hiding in (just in case) at Cyclops' arrival, no shades, the red eyes are visible first followed by the grin. "Click klak click klak. Fo shame she goin' the other way now." More jesting to keep things light and he motions onward to the room full of artifacts. "We in the clear for the moment."

The rogue starts to stalk around the miniature museum looking the pieces over only to pause at a wall where a tribal mask rests, "Think what be on the list is right there." A thumb being jabbed over his shoulder to indicate the diadem, scepter and plum. His gaze fixated on the wall decor. Black gloved fingertips reaching up to trace around it, seeking out any sort of trigger or trap before he removes it. "Jus' a little extra not gonna hurt nobody."

***

Another advantage of Cyclops' enhanced visor; heat mode. Enabling it with a touch to its control unit, Scott is able to track the heat signatures of those warm bodies, human and canine alike; unless, of course, these guys have some sort of tech capable of blocking such a thing.

Following the bread crumbs is pretty easy; he's been tracking Gambit's movements so far, and the disabled security features leave Cyclops a free pathway to meet up with his teammate. "Too bad we didn't bring a telepath," he murmurs. Of course, aside from Charles, the telepaths on the team probably wouldn't approve of their banter regarding Miss Heels.

Cyclops only takes a couple of seconds to inspect the artifacts. In short order, he's going back to scanning the three-sixty for heat signatures. "Think you can bypass the security?" he asks. "It'll take time. There's always Plan B."

Plan B, of course, is the miniature EMP crammed into his utility belt. Of course, Plan B would turn the operation into a good old fashioned smash and grab.

Remy's little theft is casually ignored. He knows who he's got on the team, and he's a big believer in karma. In this case, Gambit is just… the delivering end of what these assholes deserve.

***

They have a window of time before the next security sweep hits the place. Seven minutes is not a whole lot of time but it's enough if one knows what one is doing and honestly security is not as tight in the grounds as it is outside it. Scott is easily able to track the guards and dogs and Pohl and his guest. If he's paying attention though, the Lady doesn't show up on thermal.

There are sensors of course. And alarms. On all the displays but honestly that kind of thing really only slows someone down. Remy's been at this awhile. He knows what he's doing. Can he do it before they have to hide or get out though?

***

"Telepaths just take the fun out of everything."
"Oh yeh. No need for B." Remy is reminded his voice muffled now as he turns around and is actually wearing the tribal mask on his face. "No problem these are outdated by bout three years, old Vigilant systems. Time me, I got this in under two minutes."

It actually takes him about two minutes and thirteen seconds and he is stuffing the objects in to small unfolding bags. Special fabric that is tight fibers that muffle sound and keep things from 'smashing' about.
"What I tell you, under two minutes." A long legged stride guiding him past Cyclops and back down the path they'd entered along.

***

While monitoring the heat signatures, Cyclops is taking stock of the room itself. He's looking for quick exits, places to hide, just in case it comes to that. "Do it."

While Gambit gets to work, Cyclops does another scan of the heat signatures. A frown forms on his face, and he begins recounting heads, bodies, locations. Something… isn't adding up. "I'm not sure heels is on my heat scan," he notes quietly, with a touch of urgency. "She's not registering."

Which could mean any number of things. Now on high alert, Cyclops turns to track Gambit, not delivering the bad news until they're on their way out.

"Two minutes, thirteen seconds."

No bull, Scott's got a running clock in the corner of his HUD.

***

The sensation started when Gambit touched the weird silvered lead and crystal plum line thing. A feeling like static around the two mutants that made their hair stand on end. As they egress it builds about them, an almost palpable energy that seems to pulse and swirl. And then…

"Oh my…" It's Lady Pohl in her heels and expensive wrap dress, looking at the two of them amusedly. She'd been, apparently, waiting for them in the small foyer near the door. Her accent is that odd, muted Euro one that makes it clear that she's not American and difficult to tell exactly where she's from. "You seem to have been a bit naughty." She holds a finger up to her lips as if suppressing a giggle.

"Which is terribly fun, I have to say… let's see if you survive it…"

The room starts to flicker, in and out, replaced with stone cave work. The only thing stable in it is the three occupants and their loot. Everything else winks in and out until they're standing in what seems to be a volcanic cave. Somewhere in… Scott's HUD is still catching up, but nowhere near where they were.

There's a loud roar from behind them.

***

"Nah, your clock is off." Remy insists. "You mean no heat scan?" No major alarm in his voice but things have just gotten more exhillerating and it really is kind of eerie to hear someone just went 'cold'.

The mask is pushed up Gambit's head so it's parked on the top of his scalp, face visible as he peers around once in a precautionary fashion. He's estimated where gaurds and dogs should be and Scott can see them through his visor but there is a chilled new factor to consider. Not to mention that electric tingle in the air that's assaulting the sixth senses in horror story fashion.
"That her behind us, huh?" Then reality warps. No longer a room filled with treasure and 21st century living…
"So uh, what was Plan C? Run right?"

***

"Yep." That's her behind them. Cyclops was the one to turn and look. He puts out a hand toward her, ready to bargain. "Look, it's not what you—"

And then they are elsewhere.

This is why they should always have a Plan C.

Scott grimaces at the roar. If it's run or fight, they had better find out what they'll be fighting when it catches up to them. So, he turns around and readies his hands; the moment he sizes whatever is making that noise, he will squeeze fingers to palm, triggering an optic blast guesstimated to be powerful enough to knock it back. After that?

"Run!"

***

Whatever it is turns out to be a Minotaur. Of sorts. Eight feet tall at least with a loincloth and huuuuge axe. Scott's blast knocks it back a few paces and as the X-Men take off it roars and surges after them, hooves going 'thud, thud' instead of clip-clop.

By the way, bovine things should not have teeth like that. All triangular and pointy, like a shark.

The cave they're in stretches on and on, with forks and turns and bends. It probably won't surprise either of the two Xers assuming they read their greek Mythology. Oh. Scott's HUD has caught up. It says, rather impossibly, that they're inside Mount Vesuvius.

The Minotaur is not far behind them. And it seems to know this place… rather well.

***

Fighting, Remy is not too shabby. Flight? Remy is an expert. "So, do I wanna look behind us? I kinda think I don't."
The ground behind LeBeau is being littered with dropped cards, each of them glowing and soon to go off in what will be a daisy chain of explosive pops to help cover their escape route.
"Question though, where we running? I dun really think we're in Kansas anymore and I got de wrong shoes on."

Gambit does eventually chance a glimpse behind them, "Shit, is that a minotaur? I thought she was a she and minotaurs were hims or hes… Quick raise your ams above your head and try to appear taller! That works on wild animals, yes?"

"Manimals? Animens?"

***

"Definitely not as attractive as Lady Ploh!" Scott answers. It isn't until they've taken a fork that the visor catches up, and for a moment, he slows up. "Holy shit."

Another card blows up, prompting him to sprint and catch up.

"Visor says we're inside of Mount Vesuvius!" he answers. Which means they were not only teleported through space, but also through either time or realities.

"Christ, where's Hank or Kitty when you really need them??"

Scott doesn't have any answers yet. What he does know is that there's a pattern to this stuff. He's an overgrown Boy Scout. He's been caving. Question is, will he be able to figure the way out before he or Remy run out of sprinting strength?

Glancing upward, he rapidly taps fingers against palm. The short bursts impact the cave ceiling, not strong enough to (hopefully) cause a cave-in, but enough to add falling debris to Gambit's unique version of 52-card-pickup.

***

The Minotaur is, definitely, very male. Let's leave it at that. There is a pattern here for Scott and it won't take him long to figure it out. There isn't a traditional exit to these kinds of things. Legend has it that something waits at the center of these kinds of paradoxes which is exactly what Scott and Remy have run into. Roars of rage fade in the background as concussive force and falling rocks take their toll. Soon their pursuit is out of earshot.

The center looms up ahead. A wide, circular chamber wherein waits the Lady Pohl again. Only this time she seems to have ditched the heels and wrap for a more practical jump suit and boots. "Not dead yet? I'm impressed. And you found the center very, very quickly. Doubly impressed."

There's what appears to be a spool of golden thread at the center, resting on a pedistal. It's small and when they get near Remy can feel the 'plumb' in the sack jerk the entire thing forward.

***

"It's a honeypot! This is how they draw you in, mon ami. Beautiful woman in high heels that musical ear drawing clappy sound dey make and then BAM… minotaur. We just got honeypotted by a bovino-morph!? How cow-culating." Gambit chuckles at his own expense while tucking the bag in closer, letting the seal around it tighten as a shoulderstrap is drawn taunt, relics secure now to secure their lives. Spelunking is not his thing, his experience with such things is limited at best. General idea is there at least. "That last joke, I got to apologize for that one, no one want to die on a bad pun."

A quick glance around and the Cajun snaps that bo staff out. "We're in Naples?!?" Clearing his throat and shouting up at Lady Pohl, "Mademoiselle… we only begun to impress. You let us out Gambit assure you he blow your mind." The tug of the plum and he is tugging that particular bag forward a veiled nudge given to Scott as an indication for him to look.

***

"Should have seen it coming a mile away!" That's the brunt of Scott's return fire; he's nowhere near as good with humor. Even bad humor.

He can recognize terrible humor. Beneath the mask, he even smirks.

"Nobody's dying here," he says in answer to both Remy and Lady Pohl. The bag is noticed; a glance given to the spool of thread. Something strange is at work here, and Scott's never enjoyed this kind of strange.

"She wants the items back," he says to Remy, intentionally choosing not to acknowledge the woman. It's his hope that the lack of respect may incite her to loosen her lips and give them some clue as to how they might get out of this. "Even though they weren't hers to begin with. Totally not cool, huh?"

Its very hard not to curl his hands into fists.

***

"If I could get out, I would." The woman says with a wry smile. "Unfortunately, space is bent here. I can't even teleport out. I don't have the power. All I can do is go between here and that damned mansion." With some exceptions. She doesn't get into those though. "As for the shineys…" The woman smiles and there's a thud-thud rapidly approaching. "You can have them, if you survive our host here. Personally, I'd like that." The Minotaur, bleeding and bruised and pissed comes into view. "So how 'bout it boys? Care to be my heroes?"

The bull headed monster eyes Scott and Remy, then roars and charges.

***

Terrible humor fits the bill this go around and Remy's inner nerd is still reeling at that one but he is glad to see part of his assumptions were off, the woman was not the minotaur so he can stop trying to come up with terrible combo-names not that Scott was any help.
"Survive is fortunately somethin' we X-Men are good at." The plum is drawn loose and tossed at Cyclops. "Split these up at least… "

The minotaur visible again gets Gambit rushing it only to use his bo staff as a pole vault to sailing over it just before they would connect. He'll land behind it and prepare a handful of cards.
"Take it down and maybe we get 'ported back?"

***

One sure fire way to bring the beast down would be to just remove his visor and give the thing a full on, uninhibited blast. That would probably bring down the mountain, or cause it to erupt.

…. ironic.

"That's the plan," says Cyclops to Gambit. Reaching out, he snatches the plumb from the air. Some kind of strange feeling crawls up his arm, up his spine, into his neck, and finally, into his eyes.

Once Remy is behind the Minotaur, a surprisingly powerful blast is let loose toward the monster's legs. Scott's head even jerks back a bit, eliciting a "Whoa!" from the surprised mutant's lungs.

***

The Minotaur's hooves go out from under it as Scott's beam walks up it's leg to it's torso and it pitches forward with a pained groan. Even as it does though it's hand cocks back and that massive axe goes sailing through the air right toward Scott. Then it lands with a thud, clearly slowed and hurt by the blast but getting up anyway, unaware that Remy is behind it and unable to do anything about it just yet anyway. From above 'Lady Pohl' whomever she is watches with rapt attention.

***

Point and shoot! Cyclops angles his head and blasts that axe to smithereens, dusting himself with shrapnel. Meanwhile, as Gambit's cardbombs pepper the downed Minotaur's backside, Scott takes aim for the creatures arms. One blast followed by another, aiming to disable or maim the beast.

He might be taking the 'no killing' rule a bit far.

***

The item in Scott's hands tingles and sends bolts of power up his arm every time he lets loose with another blast. Killing this beast would be easier, but it will go down. Eventually. Well, it's looking like it will anyway. Definitely slower now as another set of cards sends it staggering and leaves it bloodied. It's not done hurling things yet though. A massive chunk of cave wall gets ripped up and sent hurling at Scott's feet. It's bowling for X-Men! A second later Scott hits with another blast on the arm and there's an audible snap of bone breaking.

***

"Gambit!" Scott calls for a tag team. He's fast, fast enough to fire an optic blast at the incoming chunk of cave stone, but not fast enough to avoid the shattered rock that comes as a result. Mid-backpedal, the rocks trip him up and send him sprawling to the cave floor, bruised and momentarily stunned.

***

The beast snarls in bovine triumph and rips another chunk of volcanic wall out, hefting it and apparently meaning to solve this (to quote the film) 'his way'. There - if one can believe it - actually a startled gasp from Lady Pohl.

***

"On it!"
The barrage of cards on the Minotaur's back moments ago didn't phase the beast as much as Remy had hoped which just means more firepower required, the staff itself is launched like a javelin at the beast as it is mid throw hopefully he cand destroy it's aim on Scott.
Gambit's powers always take a moment to charge, here is to praying he is fast enough to save Cyclops from getting turned in to a smudge in Italy. How would he explain that one.

***

Seeing stars, Scott props his head up a bit, trying to make sense of the spinning room. Behind the visor, he squints his eyes in an attempt to make sense of what's happening.

***

There's a tense moment when Gambit's Staff launches into the air… then it hits with a crack of thunder sending the beast tumbling to the ground. It tries to get up on it's one good arm and then just slumps back down, immobile and breathing hard.

"Well…" The Lady comes down to ground level and regards the two mutants with an impressed smirk. "My heroes. Now if we can just-"

Her words are cut off by a tear opening in the air near Gambit and Cyclops out of which a tall, lean faced, predatory feeling man steps, holding a sword. He glances around once and relaxes. Remy may remember speaking to him about his adoptive daughter, and Scott may have read his file… which probably doesn't mention teleportation… or swordplay.

"Hello Saskia." The man greets Lady Pohl.

"Hello Old Wolf. Been a few centuries. Meet the heroes who just saved the lady fair." Beat. "Also, themselves."

The man looks over to Scott and Remy and his eyes light on the pendulum in Scott's hand. "Aaaaah. That's what I sensed going on here."

***

The minotaur is approached and prodded with a boot toe a couple times before the satisfied Cajun picks up his staff, collapsing it in on itself. "You okay, Cyclops?" Gambit inquires before addressing Fenris and the woman. The action shows an obvious 'team before all else' familial connection that just comes easy and natural.
"You again, kinda thought I wouldn't be seein' you ever again. No such luck it seem." Remy looks from Fenris to Saskia and back again while making his way over to help the X-Men's fearless leader to his feet.

If the man requires of course.

***

Scott shakes his head to clear it, just in time to see Remy's staff take the beast down. X-Men tag team for the K.O. shot!

A bit slower than usual, Scott comes to his feet. His head jerks toward the tear, and he takes a tentative pair of steps backward, not yet knowing whether they are about to be dealing with the real boss. Like fucking Zeromus or something.

"I've had worse," he answers Gambit with a dry note. "You?"

Any signs of familiarity are hard to read thanks to a mask and tactical visor, but Cyclops does seem to relax a bit. Fenris' words draw his visor down to the plumb in his hand, lips curling into a rueful smirk. "There's something very peculiar about this thing," he says with distrust for the artifact.

***

"Magical, I think is the word you're looking for." Saskia says.

"What are you doing here anyway… wait… don't tell me. I can see the binding. Really, Saska…" Fenris extends a hand and there's a sensation of something breaking. Instantly the woman's skin darkens several shades, her eyes become cat slitted and she develops curved horns.

"Aaah, much better. Thank you, Fenris."

The Wolf nods and turns his attention to the other two. "Magical indeed. That is a Ley pendulum. An old one. I did not realize they were still in circulation." The pendulum is straining on the chain, pointing to Scott. "And it seems to like you." That last is said in a considering voice. "Mmmm, I suppose you would do. Both of you, considering what you just defeated." Now Remy gets the same considering look.

"Oh, this again, Fenris?" The woman gives the two men a mischevious but not malicious smirk. "They'd be perfect."

***

With Scott on his feet and in one piece Remy halts his progress towards his companion, "Magic, you mean juju? Careful, homme. Nothin' good usually come of such tings." Gambit is being lazy or intentional as his accent spikes out here and there. That staff though collapsed is held clutched in one hand still, "Horns usually a bad sign too. Kinna figured these your sort of circles, Fenris. Always had them vibes bout you." If anything the superstitious Cajun is usually good with his gut instinct and 'feels'. He'll leave it to Cyclops to ask all the more important questions, all those, what, why, how, who, where kinda things.

***

The Lady's transformation into Saskia earns a stare from Cyclops. His mouth even falls slightly ajar. He wasn't expecting that one. Then again, he wasn't expecting any of this. It certainly wouldn't fit the bill for an Oceans 14 screenplay.

The Ley pendulum gets another wary look. "What do you mean, it 'likes' me?" he asks.

Remy couldn't have called it better.

Hesitant steps are taken toward Fenris and Saskia, looking between the two of them. "I… we would 'do' for what, exactly? Look, neither one of us are trained in the arcane. We're just normal…"

Normal dudes with fancy costumes, eye lasers and exploding cards?

"… we aren't wielders of magic, if that's what you're asking. We just want to get these artifacts to a safe place, and go home."

***

"Home I can provide for you. And Saskia since I suspect she's tapped." Fenris turns to open a Way back to the street near the School. He remembers that's Remy's home anyway. Scott he's not sure about but he figures Remy can probably help the guy.

"Magical training is… unnecessary for what I'd like to ask you both. What I need is people willing to stand up and protect something that most don't even know needs protecting. I've been gathering friends and heroes to do just that. Considering your performance here, I think you both might be just what I'm looking for."

Fenris pulls a second Ley Pendulum from his pocket and tosses it to Remy. "By 'likes you' I mean, thinks you may be suitable. Pendulums are… well, magical. They have a limited kind of sense for that sort of thing. Hang onto these both for me and I'll come by later to talk to you more in depth about it. If you don't want in, I'll take them back, no hard feelings." The Old Wolf gestures. "For now though, let's get you home."

He steps through and the portal remains open. Saskia grins at Remy and Scott. "What was that I heard about making me want to serve divorce papers? I'm about to handle that now… maybe I should look you two up when I'm done?" She winks. "Take care of yourself Heroes. I'll be seeing you. Soon, I suspect."

Then she too, steps through.

***

"This starting to sound like some kinda audition we just got roped in to." Gambit mumbles under his breath and snares the Ley Pendulum out of the air, it is deftly twirled in his fingers and he examines it. "Home, that sound good about now." No response is given to the like nor dislike of the amulet, the Cajun being a superstitious sort is very much also a curious one. It comes with the territory.

"Uh, Saskia was it? I mighta been speaking outta turn, these things I say sometimes, they just come out, no filter you know?" Yeah, the horns, the dark skin, the IMAYBEADEMON has the rogue backpeddling. Even a year later the Darkhold's touch on him still lingers and that side of the magical spectrum is a dark and a frightening place. Gambit steps through the offered portal. Couldn't be worse than being stuck inside of a mountain right?

***

Protection is Scott Summers' second middle name. He's also an absolute sucker for this sort of thing. Inspecting the Ley pendulum in his hands, turning it over a few times, he considers. "I suppose… holding onto it for a little while at least couldn't hurt…" He looks over to Gambit, nods his head, then tucks the pendulum away.

As he walks toward the portal, Cyclops eyes the demon woman speculatively. Then he looks over to Gambit. "She's all yours, buddy," he quips. "I've got a telepath to handle, and she's a handful."

See what I did there?

Cyclops steps through the portal and finds himself on Greymalkin lane. That… bothers him, but, home is a sight for a sore eye.

Man. Remy's bad puns are rubbing off.


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