xp_logs | WENDY: Meeting With Hook

During one of their normal meetings, Ororo and Remy run into an old enemy with a brand new threat.

Normally they met on Fridays, but between chaos in both the mansion and the centre, neither Remy nor Ororo were finding it easy to keep a schedule. He'd finally been able to track down a spare moment at the same time as a lull in her teaching duties, and LeBeau had suggested a small cafe just outside the Village.

Keeping in contact with the school was a vital asset to the Centre, but more importantly, Remy enjoyed his meetings with Ororo. Between different missions, they had developed a certain amount of insight into the measure of the other, and the give and take of their informal information exchanges was a welcome diversion. Remy took a sip from the cup of espresso he'd ordered, waving away a third attempt by the waiter to sell him dessert, as he waited for her to arrive.

There were few things Ororo disliked more than being late. Of course, contending with New York City traffic meant that being late was inevitable more often than not, no matter how early she left. Still, inevitable tardiness or not, she wore an apologetic smile as she entered the cafe and headed towards the table where Remy sat. "I am sorry," she said without prelude, shaking her head as she slipped into the seat opposite him. "You would think that people would learn how to drive in the rain after some time. I counted at least three accidents on my way here."

"You know, for someone as obsessed about de green growing things as you, you seem to enjoying forgetting dat dere is a train." Remy said, sipping his coffee. It was a running joke that both Wisdom and Lebeau had a tendency to use public transit, holdovers from their days as operatives, where the subways were the best method of losing agents following you. Even now, he tended to let other people drive, and used different methods to reach the office.

"Unfortunately, I must sacrifice green things for the flexibility of having a vehicle that can go where I want to go, when I need to..." 'Ro sighed and shrugged. "Though I admit it would be nice to sit back and have the driving done for me, sometimes."

"See, Remy learned dat's what new employees are for." LeBeau grinned over his glass. He was equally notorious for getting the others to run his minor errands, Amanda especially. "So, what blew up on de school dis month, neh?"

"Nothing so far," she replied, rapping smartly on the table with one hand. "I think after the fiasco in Monte Carlo, the student body has decided to wait until they can collectively come up with something to outdo Marius and Jennie. So it may be a quiet rest of the year after all." Smiling at him, she glanced at the menu, though it was just the usual assortment of coffee drinks and pastries.

"Trust me, something will come up." Remy took a sip of his coffee and treated her to a wry smile. "De first thing Remy learned 'bout dat place? Something always comes u--" His words suddenly died, and his expression flickered from shocked to worried to grim in the span of a few seconds, eyes tracking over her shoulder.

Ororo raised her eyebrows as she lowered the menu, though she didn't twist in her seat to look behind her. "Something the matter?" she asked conversationally, watching his face carefully.

"If it's anything but a coincidence, oui." Remy muttered, as behind her the orange haired man in the white suit that had just come through the door pointed, waved, and headed for the table. "We're in trouble, Stormy."

Wonderful. Of course an afternoon at the cafe with Remy would turn into trouble. Ororo wasn't sure why she had expected otherwise. Or why it had held off this long. "What type of trouble?" she asked, her posture becoming minutely less relaxed. "And is it too late to ask to go to the ladies room?"

"Way too late." Remy muttered as the man sat down at the table with them. Over his shoulder stood a tall spare looking Chinese woman and a ruddy faced older man. Both had the look of soldiers about them, professional and dangerous.

"Ho, jeez. How about that weather out there? Everytime I'm back in New York, it seems to rain on me. See, I used to stay out with my uncle in Long Beach when I was a kid, out past... uh," he snapped his fingers. "Pinks, that's it! The original, right by the boardwalk. Every day, it was sunny."

Arcade wagged his finger at Remy. "But now, every time I'm in New York, it's raining and wet. Every time. You'd think something in New York is against me." He turned and grinned at Ororo. "I see you've upgraded, Emmon. Aren't you going to introduce me to your lady friend?"

"There is no need. My name is Ororo Munroe," the white-haired woman said politely enough, not going so far as to extend a hand to the uninvited addition to their table. She studied his face, trying to place it and wondering why this seemingly-jovial man would set Remy so on edge. "And yours, sir?"

"Dis is Arcade." Remy said nastily, watching the annoyed flicker over his eyes.
"Hey, there's no need for that, sport. I didn't come in here and call you Gambit, did I LeBeau?" Arcade got to watch Remy's expression change; the blood draining from his face and his mouth fixing into a thin line. "The name is Jacob Lowenstein, Miss Munroe. Just an acquaintance of your friend here."

Arcade. Ororo repressed a shudder, keeping a pleasant expression fixed on her face. "Ah. How fortuitous that you were able to find us, Mr. Lowenstein. What brings you to New York?"

"Him, actually. Can you believe the last time I talked to him, he was dead? How strange life is, isn't it? I had this very same white suit on at the time." Arcade leaned back in the chair and smiled back at Remy. "But there you sit. So I put on my white suit, come out here and, well, here we are, junior. Except now I know you're alive, motherfucker, and that means we need to talk."

Ororo glanced at Remy, knowing that this couldn't bode well for him... or her, for that matter. "I am sure there is no need for this to turn unpleasant," she said, placing her hands on the table. "Please, say what you have come to say." And Remy, please do not do anything to make this situation any worse...

"You see, sport, that's the sign of a good woman right there." He turned his look on her. "Polite. Calm. Focused. You're good at keeping your thoughts off your face, Miss Munroe. Good, but I'm starting to get it."

"I've had enough of dis--" Remy started to rise. He was confident he could take down both of Arcade's guards, and any hidden surprises Lowenstein might have brought along with him.

"Hey, hey, hey... now sit back down, LeBeau. You don't want to mess with me, junior. Not right now, and especially not after what I have to say. To answer your pretty lady friend's question, I'm here to discuss the robbery of my casino at your hands. You took me a long time to find, slick, but I've got you now."

He knew. Of course he knew, he wouldn't be there for any other reason, but it still sent a feeling of icy dread down Ororo's spine. She kept quiet, continuing the silent plea that Remy would listen to the man without provoking him further. And that he would let them go on their way when this was all over. Not likely at all. Sweet goddess, why?

"Oh. you guys were good. I mean good. Good. It took me more than a month to doubt your story, you know." Lowenstein picked up the cappuccino that Ms Locke brought over and took a sip. "You see, when I was a kid, my father owned a bunch of arcades, all full of video games. And there was this one, what was it called? Gauntlet! That was it. The only game to tell you when you needed to eat."

"You see. slick, there were two really good things about that game. For the owner, it had a timer. It wasn't like Pac-Man, where all you had to do was not die. No, that timer always counted down, and unless you got your food quickly, it killed you whether a ghost caught you or not. For the player, all you could do was react. There wasn't time to make a strategy or learn the patterns, because you'd have wave after wave of these things coming at you. You know what that game taught me, junior?"

"Bring more quarters?"

"No. That if you can't stop and think, you can't really know what's going on, no matter how quickly you react. And you did that to me. We didn't stop and think until you were out the door." Arcade smiled. "But now the timer is going to be put on you. Sounds very fair to me."

It sounded like a nightmare to Ororo. She didn't know what this smarmy man had up his sleeve, but his absolute confidence and assurance in the face of Remy's reaction told her that it wasn't something to be taken lightly at all. "What is it you have in mind?" she asked, hoping to cut off any threats or protests from Remy. Maybe if they could hear Arcade's proposal together, they would be able to deal with it in a mature fashion.

"Well, Miss, you robbed my casino. I hope he told you the whole story, because it's a good one. See, not only did you take my property, but you nearly set me on a man that has recently turned a lovely American city into a disaster zone. That's the part I'm having trouble with." Arcade's voice was pleasant enough, but his eyes were turning manic.

"Oui, too bad it didn't work out."

"Oh, so close, slick. But I didn't make a few billion dollars without doublechecking before I make a move, and one of the advantages of being involved with criminals is thinking like them. If it was the Brotherhood, why give me back my money at all? Why leave my guards alive down in the vault? Most importantly, why all the elaborate and yet nonlethal distractions?" Arcade shook his head. "So, I had Mister Chambers draw up a list of people with motives to go after those files, while I hired a team to research it. Expensive too. I must have spent... close to ten million over the last two years hunting this down."

Ororo could say nothing to this, merely closing her eyes briefly as she struggled to keep from reacting. Of course it would catch up to them, of course it would, and she had no clue what Arcade was going to demand in return now that he had tracked Remy down. She only hoped it was something that was able to be given... she had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be that easy.

"See, there weren't that many people with a motive to rob those files. The millions, sure. But that got left behind. Only a certain number of people could have known that I had those files, and an even smaller number could have put together the skills to steal them. " Lowenstein's smile looked almost genuine. "And ooh are you hard to pin down, slick. I assumed Xavier's might have a hand in, as unlikely as that sounded. Five grand down at the post office for a list of people receiving mail at the mansion, the same to the New York State private school register for your students. All just guesswork, but when you 're already tracking down the profiles of international mutant terrorists, might as well get the ones at home too, huh? Hey, who wants cake or something? Pastry? I have to avoid sugar. Makes me jumpy, but there 's no reason you shouldn't have something."

"Why don't you get to de point, Arcade? " Remy snarled.

"Because I don't have to yet. See, this is part of the payoff. I get to explain exactly why fucking with me was a bad idea, and what the consequences are. It's like a dance, LeBeau. There are steps everyone has to take, or the whole thing goes bad. Trust me, junior, you don 't want this dance floor to go bad on you. " Ms Locke leaned over to hand a thick file to Arcade, and he laid it on the table between them. "See, the key was hiring bloggers. This guys will follow anything obsessively. I had lists of all the big winners of the last two weeks there, and one of them matched up a guy who won a couple of hundred grand at the poker table with a teen that had gotten shot during a blood drive at Columbia while he was there. Boom, there it was. Doug Ramsey, a graduate of Xavier 's, in my casino for days before it went down. You see, my dear, any real con relies on people not knowing the right questions to ask. But once you do, it unravels real quickly. Isn't that right, Remy?"

"I do not understand," Ororo said, by now not even trying to hide the frown on her face. "Even if you can prove that Doug was in your casino, I do not see how you can claim a link to his involvement in the theft of the papers. There must be thousands of people that pass through it every day. He would be but one of many to be there, and that is little proof for the assertions you are making." She silently hoped there was nothing else to Arcade's 'proof', but she didn't think that he would be here like this if that was all he had to go on.

"You went to a private school, didn't you, honey?" Arcade said, savouring the moment. "No, you are right. There was no theft of my casino officially. Even the ten million you decided to liberate for pro-mutant causes, very nice little final insult, by the way. Nicely done. Even that ten million was never claimed."

Arcade opened the file and spread the pictures out on the table. "It took over a year, culling through security tapes and matching people up, but I know have timestamps of these people in my casino." The photos clearly showed Nathan, Doug, Terry, Haroun, Wanda, Jubilee, Remy and Amanda on the floor at various times. "Funny, considering you and that girl are supposed to be dead, but still. See, that was the issues that I had. All of my research said even these people shouldn't have been able to do it. That one," he tapped Haroun's file "has some kind of terrorist connections in his past, and a contact at the CIA identified the big man there as some kind of mercenary." Nathan's file was pointed at. "It wasn't until a spicy little blonde birdie filled in the missing pieces."

Remy sucked in a breath over his teeth. "'donna."

"Got it in one. Lovely girl. Shame you two didn't work out. Also, she really hates you."
She was beginning to dislike this man more and more. Except dislike really wasn't a strong enough word. More like despise. "Very well," she spoke up, leaning forward to catch Arcade's eye. "You have evidence. What do you want from us? If it is money, if you will allow me to make a phone call I believe perhaps we can begin to work out an agreement." Somehow she didn't think he was going to be bought off - or that they really had the funds to make that work - but it was worth a try. Anything to keep the students and the school from being implicated in that heist.

"It is money, but it's not that simple. Or as much fun. See, with all of this, I've got a former Nevada Attorney General that says if I want to push this, I can easily get a charge of conspiracy to commit fraud against a Las Vegas casino across the board." Arcade pointed at the photos. "Officially, there's no crime against your robbery, because I was flogging those files illegally obtained to a bunch of criminals. I can't really charge you with that, can I? But your former student took my casino for well over a hundred grand. You put another student to work, under a false name and fake SIN number in the hotel, and three of your teachers went with them to case the place."

"You know dat case won't hold up." Remy said, with a conviction he didn't feel.

"Other than Ramsey and Lee, it depends on the jury. But it doesn't really have to, do it? I can put those two behind bars for a minimum of five years each. I can keep the trial going for three years with appeals. Think of it. Xavier's mutant crime ring! The great Charles Xavier having to explain how he didn't know about three of his teachers taking four students to Vegas to make some money. This one, Marrow, the founder of the newest UN assisted aid group, having to explain his role, and incidentally, his buying alcohol for a foreign minor. That photo hits the Weekly World News and the top story is 'multi-millionaire snubs brilliant geneticist wife in torrid underaged Vegas affair'." Arcade leaned forward. "I can make sure that the media have that school and center under so much scrutiny that you won't be able to take out the trash without it hitting the front page. The sudden and inexplicable 'disaster' that night at my casino? I'm going to demand an investigation into whether or not the powers of your friends could have caused it. True or not, in six months mutants will be banned from every casino hotel from Vegas to Atlantic City, and then we start pushing for bigger registration of mutant powers. If I get the conspiracy conviction, it's going to be hard for the president to continue his restrained support for Xavier, isn't it?"

Arcade was right. Even if they got away with all of it, the publicity would badly hurt the school. The X-Men wouldn't be able to operate, and soon enough, someone would like up the teachers getting photographed at the stores and on the street with footage from very X-Men missions. Not to mention the fact two former students would, without a doubt, go to jail. He did have them.

"Alright, Arcade. What do you want?"

"You stole ten million from me. You did just over three million in damages, and I lost those files which should have earned at least a hundred million at that auction." Arcade shrugged. "I want that all back, plus interest."

"A hundred and fifty million dollars?" Ororo gasped, unable to keep the shocked expression from her face anymore. "That is impossible!" Outside, dark clouds began to gather over the little cafe.

"Oh, it's very possible, and I'm going to get it. Otherwise I got to the Department of Justice. I have a lot of friends there. It's good to have them." Lowenstein reached up and took a larger package from Mr Chambers. "Now, I know you don't have the money, and if I asked Xavier, he might give it to me and that's no fun at all."

He opened the package and put two bracelets down on the desk. They looked like oversized watches, down to the timepiece on the front. But the tiny LEDs blinking made them obviously something more. "You remember your old pal Chester Whelan, LeBeau? I did some work for him back in the early nineties. I was shocked to hear about his death. In any case, when your ex-wife appeared after I put out my feelers for information, she said you had been part of a government program. Your work as Gambit obviously meant black ops CIA direction, and that meant Chester. So I went through all his old friends, and for a great deal of money, I got the file on the LOST BOYS program. Only four of you left now."

Remy's fingers had gone white against the table, and it was obviously only the thinnest of control was keeping Arcade alive right now. Lowenstein didn't even seem to care, pushing the Cajun's buttons with gleeful abandon.

"Three highly trained powerful mutant assassins with over a decade's experience who can be reactivated with a code word. Lot of people want them. Lots of money in that too. So, we're going to play a little game, I think."

"What kind of game?" Ororo asked, her voice icy now. He had to be joking, but one glance at Remy's face showed her that he believed this man was actually crazy enough to do something like this.

"It's simple, really. I've got some... other teams interested in competing. You'll receive the rough locations of the LOST BOYS still at large. The first to reach them gets them, simple as that. Now, I know you've got certain... well, skills, let's say, and we want a level playing field. Drives up the odds for the people betting." Arcade held out one of the strange watches. "This is a power suppressor that I've been working on. Only works next to the skin, but fully clamps down on mutant abilities. Also has a GPS on it to keep track of you both. You'll enter as my team. If you can get all three of the mutants, you win. I'll drop the charges, destroy the evidence, and even drop by that mansion to allow a telepathic removal of the memories. Nothing fairly than that, is there?"

"And we are supposed to believe that you will do this, just on your word? Surely you can agree that would be foolishly naive, not to mention dangerous. And why am I included in this?" Ororo said, frowning. "I did not have anything to do with anything that happened at your casino."

"Well, to answer the first question, the only thing you need to believe is what I'll do if you don't trust me. Which is put anywhere from two to seven of your friends in jail, and make Headmistress Munroe's name synonymous with the James Gang in the media." Arcade smiled and shrugged. "As for the second, it's just because you were easier to track than him. When you come into the city, you normally meet with him. Fridays mostly. Consider yourself a victim of circumstance."

"How's this getting your money back, Arcade?" Remy said. He didn't actually trust Lowenstein, but the man's reputation was that he did run his games in a fair fashion. He was obsessed with games, and winning them, and that did have a certain code in him, gnarled and twisted as it might be.

"The GPS links you and the other teams. Gambling, LeBeau. I've got a couple hundred high rollers on the way to put some serious money down. If you win, I'll make double what you owe me. If you lose, I'll get my revenge." Lowenstein tapped the watches. "Oh, yeah. Just incase I forget. Lose any one of the cities, try to remove the bracelet or call for help, and the bracelet will explode, taking your hand with it. And I'll go ahead with the charges. Fun, huh?"

That is not exactly what I would call it... "Surely you will give us a moment to discuss your... proposition," Ororo told the man, giving him a forced smile. Perhaps Remy knew a way out of this predicament - because if there was one thing Ororo was sure about, it was that she did not want to play this man's twisted game.

"No, I really won't." Arcade tossed a file on the table, and with it, a pair of FedEx folder boxes. "The contents of your pockets into those, please. You'll start with a hundred dollars each, and nothing else. Wait, you're right, that wouldn't be fair." Arcade dug into his pocket and pulled out a deck of playing cards, from the Excelsior Hotel. He set them on top of the pile. "In case you get bored."

"No identification, no funds. You expect us to win wit' dis?"

"LeBeau, I expect you to lose. That's the whole point, slick. There's no profit in running games that people can win. That's what Gauntlet taught me, remember?" He waved behind him and Ms Locke produced a PDA. "You can e-mail your people from here. Remember, if they show up to help, even accidentally, you forfeit."

"I will need to make a phone call," Ororo said, interrupting before Arcade got any further. She knew that Scott wouldn't be content with an email - if she was going to convince him to stay away, she needed to speak to him. "Allow me that, and I will play your game."

"You can make it from the table." Arcade said, without a pause. "You know, it's so important that I know I can trust you to follow the rules right off the start. Here, dear, why don't we do this first."

Locke came forward and picked up the bracelets, snapped one on Remy's wrist and turning to Ororo. Remy simply scowled and started tapping on the PDA. He knew they didn't have any choice except to listen to Arcade. The man had designed a careful box to trap them in, and it was working.

The white-haired woman looked like she would resist for a moment; her jaw was set stubbornly and she held her arms close to her body. After a look from Remy, however, she reluctantly held out an arm, her other hand already digging in her pocket for her cell phone. Locke closed the bracelet around her wrist with a look of grim satisfaction and stepped back.

"I'm really looking forward to seeing what you two can do, you know. Dealing with the other teams using artistry and cunning. Ooh, I've got goosebumps, do you?" He ignored their twin scowls and held up the boxes. Wordlessly, they dropped wallets, keys, cell phones; the contents of their pockets into them. Once they had finished, with the help of a professional patdown by Chambers, Arcade sealed both folder boxes, doublechecking the names and addresses for the mansion on the front. "Do you think we need insurance? Nah, we're good. Alright, that folder will tell you where your first target is. Otherwise, you can deal with those other teams any way you wish."

He got up finally, and walked over to Remy, looking him in the eye. "Make me proud, motherfucker, or I'll make your life such a living hell you're going to wish you died as a child."

"A charming man," Ororo muttered as Ms. Locke handed her a cell phone so that she could make her call. Remy, you should invite your friends to lunch more often.

"See, I like her. Honey, you ever get tired of that school, you give me a call. I normally never tell a girl that on my first meeting." Arcade looked at his watch while Ororo dialed and made a note. "Ms Locke, please inform our guests back at the hotel. As of 2:12pm, the game is officially on."