X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

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1X09 – King of Hearts – Act III

“You know what, no,” Sekhmet waved her hands in front of her face, “I don’t want to know. You quite probably saved my life, so unless you actually took something from the museum, I don’t want to know. We’ll just let it go.”

Remy grinned at her, “Ain’t through saving your life just yet, cher.”

“What?” she glanced up, not sure what he was meaning.

“Just cause you got away, don’t mean you’re safe,” he pointed out.

“I need to go to the police,” she nodded.

“A bit late for that,” he gave her a sympathetic frown, “cause I guarantee that right now Linton is scrubbing all the security footage, erasing every trace of his thief’s, and the cops are going to need more than just your word. They’ll ask questions, get the facts, but if Linton is a smart man, he’ll be on the next plane to a non-extraditing country before they can get a warrant.”

“But you were there,” she told him, “you can corroborate the attack.”

“Even if I were inclined to help you in this matter,” he grinned as way of apology, “a professional thief who was technically not stealing from the very place he broke into… does not a good corroborating witness make.”

“Well, that’s… stupid,” Sekhmet wasn’t just going to accept that Linton would get away, “I have evidence that artifacts have been going missing,” she tapped the table with her index finger in her anger, “Jack is behind it, he knows where they went, I am not going to set here and let him just leave the country.”

“He has men,” Remy looked at her seriously, “and they are going to go after you, you’re a loose thread. Go to the police, tell them what you have, stay at the police station until they realize you’re right, then ask for their protection. Then you’ll be safe.”

“And Jack will be gone,” she told him stubbornly.

“Nothing you can do about that, cher,” again with the sympathetic smile.

“Dozens of priceless Mesoamerican artifacts,” Sekhmet leaned forward, getting into his face, “stolen out from under the nose of one of the greatest institutions in his country and sold like trinkets in a third world market place,” she even surprised herself at how much anger started to boil inside her, “don’t tell me there is nothing I can do.”

He stared at her through those dark sunglasses and she really wished mind reading was a thing because she had no idea what was going through his head.

Eventually he took a long, slow, breath, “Alright, warrior goddess, here’s what we do…”

…

“Mr. Doosan,” Jean walked over to where the executive was sitting, having gone from being scared out of his wits to needing to make several phone calls, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Jean.”

“Unless you’re here to tell me I can go,” he frowned at her as she pulled a chair in front of him, “or give me back my phone, I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation,” she started to poke at his mind, he didn’t seem to have had any anti-telepath training.

“Someone tried to kill me,” her replied dryly, “just how more severe can it get?”

“The reason someone tried to kill you is that you had four individuals held captive in the sub-basement of your research facility,” Jean wasn’t going to tread lightly, she needed him to bring the memories up to the surface where she could catch them.

“I said I don’t know anything about that,” Doosan repeated himself, “he told me he wasn’t doing anything illegal.”

“Nothing illegal in his mind,” she repeated, “because apparently he didn’t classify mutants as living beings with inalienable rights.”

“Just what are these mutants you keep talking about?” he asked her, genuinely not getting it.

That was a question she found difficult to answer some days, “Human beings, just like you, except instead of evolution making us a little taller, more immune to certain diseases, more adaptable to our environment… it went a step… further.”

To punctuate her point, Jean looked over at the fallen debris, specifically a vase that was knocked over in the fight, the glass spread across the floor. She latched onto the lily’s which had been in the vase and they floated into her hand.

Doosan looked at the scene wide-eyed, “How is that evolution?”

“Our body’s run on energy, our thought processes are nothing but electrical impulses jumping from one synapse to another,” she smiled at him, “is it so hard to believe that one day we’d learn how to harness that energy and exert it outside our bodies?”

“It’s like science fiction or something,” he shook his head, still not understanding.

“So was Star Trek fifty years ago,” she frowned and held the flowers out to him, “this is real. There are individuals out there with special abilities and there are others who wish to exploit them. Doctor Rowland was one of them and you helped him.”

“He said it wasn’t illegal,” Doosan defended himself but she could see the truth in his mind.

“And you thought that was pretty questionable,” it was all there now, she didn’t even have to push, “had Iron Castle do a background check and everything. It all came back clean, almost too clean, but you didn’t care,” she ignored the way his eyes widened as she read his mind, “profit was profit.”

“That was before I was getting assaulted for whatever it is you’re doing here,” he shot back evenly. “You told me what you were doing wasn’t illegal.”

“Not technically illegal is what I said,” Rowland countered, “but I’ll show you what we’re doing downstairs if you answer me this one question.”

“What?” he replied wryly.

Rowland looked him straight in the eye, “Do you really want to know?”

“You even had the opportunity,” she shook her head, “you could have ended it all, done the right thing, but you decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Four people’s lives weren’t worth your time… and you wonder why someone is trying to kill you.”

Doosan had no come back for that, and looked down, unable to look her in the eye.

Unfortunately, this didn’t surprise Jean as much as it should have, and she stood, making her way back over to Scott, Fred and Jean-Paul.

“Get anything useful?” the agent asked, Scott could already read it in her eyes.

“No, Doosan doesn’t know anything,” Jean said sadly, “he’s no training and I didn’t even have to dig.”

“So he’s just a loose end,” JP said critically, “whoever Doctor Rowland was working for doesn’t want to risk that he might actually know something.”

“We still don’t know who that someone might be,” Scott glanced back at the two mutants who were tied up in the bedroom.

“And we need to figure out what we’re going to do with them,” Fred sighed, “Cooper is on her way here with a whole cadre of DHS agents to take these two into custody.”

“After what happened last time?” Scott raised a single brow.

“Significant improvements have been made to our containment facilities,” Fred looked as if he was trying to frown and smirk at the same time, “and I promise, they won’t be turned into experiments, even if they kind of deserve it.”

…

Sabretooth walked through the diner which stank of the Cajun thief, but he wasn’t there, probably missed him by ten minutes.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled out an older push button phone, he had problems with the newer touch screen phones, he tended to destroy them by slashing the glass.

Putting the phone to his ear, “What?”

“Have you located Gambit?” Leeds asked.

“Just missed him,” he walked out of the diner.

“It’s not like the thief not to make good on his commissions,” the man was displeased by this turn of events.

“There was a woman,” Sabretooth pointed out.

Leeds paused, “Oh dear.”

…

Sekhmet followed Remy down an alley and into the back yard of a middle-class home in the D.C. suburbs that happened to belong to one Jack Linton. They got to the back door of the home and two thin pieces of metal appeared in the man’s hand and he started to pick the lock.

“How long will…” she started to say and the door was already open, “never mind.”

The alarm started to beep inside, giving the ‘owner’ ninety seconds to punch in their code before alerting the alarm company. Remy stared at the case for a good sixty seconds before trying a code, the indicator light turning from red to green.

“How did you know the code?” Sekhmet asked him as they headed into the living room.

“That control pad is a standard five key code,” he started down a hallway, peaking into rooms, “and it showed wear on four numbers.”

“That doesn’t explain how you knew the code,” she argued as they found themselves in Linton’s office, “you can’t be that good.”

Remy looked back at her and even with his glasses on, she could tell he gave her a wink and a smile.

“Right,” Sekhmet shook her head as he started to look around, pulling books off a shelf and looking under portraits, “you pick locks, sneak into the Smithsonian, have some kind of military grade snappers, why should anything surprise me?”

He paused, mid pulling some books off a shelf built into the wall, “Military grade snappers?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, looking at the papers on the man’s desk, “you know, snappers, those things you get at Fourth of July you throw on the ground and they make a loud popping sound? That’s basically what those things where you were throwing back at the museum, only, with like, C4 or something.”

“C4 doesn’t work that way,” he frowned at her, “but yeah, military grade snappers, we’ll go with that.”

“Did you steal those too?” she asked, somewhere between snarky and legitimately curious.

“Not exactly,” he murmured, then found what he was looking for, a safe built into the wall. “Now isn’t she a beauty.”

“The safe?” Sekhmet moved around the desk to get a closer look.

“Old school McCarthy,” there was a touch of reverence in his voice, “don’t see these much anymore. Let’s just hope Linton hasn’t been back here yet to empty it.”

“This is probably a stupid question,” she frowned as he started to fiddle with the tumbler, “but can you open it?”

“There is no such thing as a stupid question,” his attention was on the safe, which easily opened under his deft fingers, “just sarcastic answers.”

With the safe now open, Remy reached in and grabbed everything that was inside which was a ledger and a few manila folders. They went to the desk and started to go through the items, Remy taking the ledger and Sekhmet browsing through the files.

“These are logs, from the museum,” she commented as she read down the information sheets which listed the museum’s ‘chain of custody’ as the items were moved from department to department, complete with a reference photo of the artifact, “and according to this, they are all under restoration.”

“This is your ticket right here,” Remy turned the ledger around so she could see, “everything he’s ever taken and how much money he’s made off the deals.”

“Which will be great for the prosecution,” she frowned, “if they had someone to prosecute.”

“Hhmmm,” he had a thought as he looked around, “I wonder why he hasn’t come for this yet. If I was on my way out, this is the first place I’d go, get rid of the damning evidence.”

“He’s had plenty of time,” she agreed, it didn’t make sense, “maybe he’s nursing the broken nose you gave him?”

“Fleeing the scene of a crime trumps a little broken nose, chere, trust me,” there was a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, then he tilted his head as he looked at one of the files, “what’s the date on that?”

“Ah,” she pulled herself away from staring at him to glance down and find the appropriate box, “it went into restoration six months ago.”

“Normally take that long?” he questioned.

“It can,” she nodded, “it depends on the condition of the artifact, any damage that needs to be taken care of.”

“When was it to be put back into storage?” was his next question.

“Um,” she moved her finger down the page, “today,” she quickly looked through the other files, “they’re all being stored today.”

“That’s why he hasn’t been back yet,” there was a pleased smile on his face, “and why his goons were so quick to respond, he’s getting this one last shipment out and then he’s gone.”

“So we still have time,” she felt so relieved, “we should go to the police now.”

“And how are you going to explain to them about where you got all this?” he frowned at her.

“Oh, right,” she looked around, “I just happened to have broken into Jack’s house and cracked a safe. Totally believable.”

“I’d believe you,” he grinned at her with a light chuckle, “come on, I have another plan.”

“Another plan?” she shoved the files into the ledger, she wasn’t going to leave it. “Does this one involve breaking into, I dunno, the White House or something?”

“By the third time breaking into the Oval Office,” he said as they exited the office and headed down the hall, “it kinda loses its mystique.”

Sekhmet laughed and then paused as he rounded the end of the hallway, “That was a joke, right?”

She received no answer and so she continued into the living room, “Remy?”

Too late, she saw the two men who had come through the front door, one entering in the code while the other looked straight at her and the ledger in her arms. She recognized them from the museum and that could only mean they were there for Linton, getting the incriminating evidence.

“Crap,” she turned and ran into the kitchen wondering where the hell Remy went.

Getting to the door she saw in the reflection of the glass that they were right behind her, guns pointing.

“Don’t make us shoot,” one of the men said and she took a deep breath before turning around, clutching the ledger to her chest. She took a deep breath, she would figure this out.

Then, as before, Remy appeared behind the men, kicking out at one while using that momentum to strike at the other. The one he kicked went down while the other tried to bring his gun to bear. Remy did some kind of disarm that involved his hands flying about in ways she’d only seen in Jackie Chan movies.

Remy landed a punch which sent the other man to the floor, but the first guy was up again and grabbed the Cajun from behind. Remy jerked and managed to turn them just enough where he could jump up and literally kick off the refrigerator and back flip over his assailant, his sunglasses flying off. Now that he was behind the goon, Remy struck out at the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

The second man stood up and Sekhmet grabbed a sauce pan off the nearby stove and wacked it across his head. It made a thud, not the ‘ting’ sound she expected, but it did its job and he joined his partner, passed out on the floor.

“Nice one, warrior goddess,” he gave her an appreciative grin.

Sekhmet carefully put the pan back on the stove, she had no idea why she just did that.

“This way,” Remy gestured towards the living room and Sekhmet carefully hopped over the men as she followed.

Running out of the front of the house, there was a black Ford Taurus parked out front on the street. Remy pointed a key fob at it and the doors unlocked, “Get in.”

Sekhmet climbed into the passenger seat of the unfamiliar vehicle as he turned over the engine, “Did you steal their car keys?”

“Of course I did,” he grinned, putting the car in drive and racing out into the street.

It was only then that she realized his eyes weren’t the normal white sclera with colored pupil… but instead the sclera was black and his pupils were a deep red… they were the devil’s eyes.

…

In a dark and seedy part of New York City, a figure crouched in the shadow of a motel sign, sniffing the air. He made his way down a line of rooms, passing one before pausing. Another sniff of the air and he turned back to the room.

With all the grace and subtly of his namesake, Wolverine kicked the door open and stalked inside.

Getting a good whiff of the air, he could easily pick out the scents of Arclight and Blockbuster in the pungent room that didn’t even look like it had been used for sleeping.

There was a map and floor layout of the Waldorf Astoria on a table, a few scribbled notes. Next came the search and he pulled out all the drawers, tipped over most of the furniture, including the mattresses, but was coming up with nothing.

“Hey,” a man called from the door in a wrinkled employee uniform, “you can’t do that.”

Logan turned to him and growled.

The man ran away.

Thoroughly annoyed, Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket, and older flip phone because he still couldn’t see the point in having a phone you could play nonsensical games on, and dialed one of the few people he actually respected.

“Jean-Paul,” came the answer.

“I found where they were holed up over night,” he told his fellow Canadian.

“One second,” JP responded, “putting you on speaker,” there was a short pause, “go ahead, where are you?”

“A dingy motel a subway ride away,” he took a sniff of the air, something was bothering him.

“What did you find?” JP asked.

“Nothing useful, they planned the assassination from here,” he admitted, glancing around, “but if they brought anything with them, they didn’t leave it in the motel.”

“They used the subway to get here,” Scott was musing, “but they aren’t local because they used a motel. Do you think they drove in?”

“They could have came in on the subway, the train, a cab,” Jean pointed out.

Wolverine got another whiff of a scent that wasn’t quite as strong but it definitely came from the room and was as old as the other two, “Hold on.”

Walking outside, Logan followed the scent into the parking area, it was layered just under Blockbuster’s pungent odor but The Wolverine was an excellent tracker, with a lot of experience in this kind of thing. He found himself walking between two sedans. He sniffed one car, then the other, and shook his head.

Crouching down between the two, it took him a second but he figured it out.

“They came in a car,” he told the rest of the team, “and they didn’t come alone.”

“What do you mean,” Scott asked, “didn’t come alone?”

“There was a third person,” he was annoyed he had to clarify for the boy scout, “and they aren’t here anymore.”

“Then where are they?” leave Scott to ask the obvious question.

…

A woman with blond hair and dressed in a black business suit walked across the hotel lobby, right past two DHS agents who looked at her. They didn’t view her as a threat as she looked like a typical traveler who might make use of the wonderful amenities at the Waldorf Astoria.

Not like the two mutant assassins held up stairs that looked like they were a step above trailer trash.

Hitting the button for the elevator, she waited patiently before one became available and she stepped inside. She pushed the button for the fourth floor and no longer tried to hide her very put out grimace on her face.

Leave it to her teammates to make her have to clean up their mess.

…

“This is Agent Duncan,” Fred was on his radio as Scott walked into the bedroom, “I need a secure transport for witness evac now.”

“We know about your partner,” he went straight up to Arlight, “what is your backup plan?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

“You want Doosan dead because you think he knows too much,” Scott reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, “that means you’re working for the same guy Rowland was. Someone who has no problems in taking mutants, your own kind, and turning them into lab experiments.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to care,” she snarled back.

“They’re your own people,” Scott couldn’t understand why she was so callous about the whole ordeal.

“Survival of the fittest, the strongest,” Arclight looked him straight in the eye, “who am I to argue with evolution?”

He wasn’t sure if he should feel hate or disgust towards the woman in front of him.

But what Scott did feel was dizzy, as if his inner ear had been flipped upside down, and he stumbled, grabbing her arm to keep from falling over.

“What’s the problem there, Summers?” Arclight grinned as the pressure in his head started to build, “got a nasty case of vertigo?”

Scott’s stomach lurched and he lost all sense of depth perception, falling to the floor.

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