Wendy: Damaged Darlings and The Mechanical Starkey and Smee

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

Ororo and Remy run into one of the last teams, and their skills are more than they can handle.



"...I swear, Remy, if you do not stop fussing with the radio it is going off, for good," Ororo said sternly, gripping the steering wheel in both hands as she peered at the intermittently-lit motels and restaurants along the side of the road. The Cajun claimed that someone was waiting at a predetermined room to provide what help he could for them, and by this point Ororo was willing to accept just about any aid at all.

At a motion from Remy she slowed the car, then turned it into the gravel-covered lot, driving slowly along one side of the low building until they reached the room. Furrowing her brow, Ororo parked the car and killed the engine, leaning forward to peer over the dashboard at the door in front of them. Something didn't look right... "The door is slightly ajar. I think this may be a trap."

Remy couldn't see anything amiss but Ororo could be right. "Stay in de car. We might need to leave fast." He muttered, peeling out of the passenger seat. They'd stolen the car from an EL-train lot, and had tried to drive straight through. Unfortunately, the engine had given out in South Dakota, forcing them to stop long enough to find a mechanic that didn't care about ownership papers. It had taken the bulk of their funds, leaving only a few dollars between them.

He crept through the darkness, neither seeing nor hearing anyone else. A quick look into the open room revealed nothing, until he caught sight of the feet sticking out from behind the far bed. Ororo had been right. Remy broke for the car.

He made it further than most would've, but he was still several feet from the door when a monstrous pile of metal and flesh hit him from the side. Somehow the Reaver had managed to hide within the shadows, though now that he was moving it was hard to imagine anyone could miss the light glinting off the metallic constructs grafted to him. They both crashed into the bed, and the Reaver drew back one massive fist for a blow that would certainly rip through Remy like tissue paper.

Despite the force of the initial blow, Remy was already moving, twisting his legs up to slam his foot into the crook of the elbow. The kick drove his punch off target, smashing past him. He rolled and came up, but the man was faster, his backswing clipping him on the shoulder as he did. The force of the blow slammed him up against the wall. They were faster then they had been when they attacked the mansion, or was that just his lack of powers slowing him down.

It didn't take long for Ororo to realize something was wrong. Remy had disappeared into the room, and within seconds there were loud crashes from inside. She had restarted the car as soon as he had left her sight, but now it seemed that they would not be making any sort of quick getaway. She was about to turn it off and spring out to help him when a tall figure rounded the corner of the building and made straight for the car. Another Reaver, half her body glinting with metallic additions, wasted no time in shattering the driver's side window and reaching in to grab Ororo's throat in a stranglehold.

Remy dodged another blow, which smashed through the wall above him as he dove out the door. He could see the other Reaver at the car, struggling with Ororo, but they were too far away from him to do anything about. He pivoted, avoiding another strike, but was unable to clear himself from the rush, getting pinned against the front of the motel by the Reaver.

"Time to die, LeBeau." The man hissed, driving a hammerlike blow into his stomach. Remy blocked out the pain, striking at the eyes. Plastic and glass cracked under the power of the blow, but did little to deter the assault.

Spots swam before Ororo's eyes as she struggled to break free from the Reaver's grasp, but it was a rapidly-losing battle. Vaguely she registered that Remy and the other Reaver were now outside, and that her partner was in much the same predicament she was, but no way out appeared to her. Seconds ticked by as she flailed, and only by chance did her hand brush up against the gear selector, giving her a desperate idea. With what remained of her strength she grasped the knob and yanked it into reverse, then jabbed a foot against the gas.

With a squeal of tires the car sped backwards. The Reaver's arm was hit by the door and released its grip around Ororo's neck, and the cyborg went crashing to the ground. Sucking in a deep, burning breath, Ororo slammed on the brakes, the impact of her head against the seat nearly enough to knock her out. Blinking rapidly, she peered through the front windshield, hoping Remy had found a way to escape from his attacker.

Remy planted his foot up in the man's chest and pushed, trying to break the grip of the man. A backhand exploded against the side of his face, opening up a deep split over his eye. He shook the blood away, slamming the side of his hand into the man's throat, but doing little against the protection there. He twisted, and pushed away, using his arm to force the Reaver's hand into an unnatural position and break the grip. With a desperate lunge, he threw himself off to the right, scrambling for distance.

It was lucky he did, because a moment later a car plowed through the motel wall, knocking the Reaver through first and then following until it was halfway inside the room itself. Opening the door, Ororo slithered out, trying to move away as fast as she could on wobbly legs. She thought for a moment the coast was clear, but her hopes were crushed when the Reaver who had been strangling her appeared in the gap in the wall, apparently unharmed and bent on finishing her for good. Even worse, she was pointing a gun straight at Ororo, and the weatherworker knew there was no way she would be able to escape. Casting her eyes up to the ceiling, she murmured a brief prayer, listening to the sounds of rubble stirring behind her.

The gun sounded like a cannon but Remy had been moving. He knocked her to one side and twisted, spinning like a top at the impact of the bullet. Before she could scream, he was fighting to get to his feet. "Get out of here, Stormy!"

Rage, pure and simple, bubbled up within Ororo, and she moved, though not in the direction Remy had hoped for. Throwing herself at the Reaver, she used every bit of adrenaline-fueled strength she possessed to knock the gun from her hand, grappling with the armored woman in a quickly-losing battle of strength that threatened to sap every ounce of energy she had. "Get in the car!" she yelled at Remy, knowing that there was no 'winning' of this battle. They would be luckily to escape alive.

Remy limped towards the car, but smoke was pouring out of the hood. It wasn't going anywhere, and the movement in the rubble in front of it showed the Reaver wasn't dead underneath. Remy could smell the gas, sharp in his nose, and he fought towards Ororo, grabbing a piece of stone from the pile and smashing the Reaver in the back of the head, dislodging her from Storm for a moment. He pulled the cyborg backward, using her moment of being off balance to counter her superior strength. As she hit the car, Remy pushed forward with Ororo, trying to gain as much distance as possible. He snapped open his lighter, and tossed it behind him at the growing puddle of gas.

Neither of them was moving particularly quickly, and the ensuing explosion knocked them both forward onto their hands and knees in the gravel of the parking lot. Ororo tried to roll with the impact, but a piece of flying shrapnel caught her across the back and she let out a strangled cry, unable to move for a long second. Every nerve in her body seem paralyzed with pain, and all she could see was the bright glow of the flames from within the ruined motel room.

Remy pulled her to her feet, seeing the blood soak her shirt black. "Come on, 'Ro. Dey not dead. Dat just bought us some time." Remy said hoarsely, choked by the smoke. She got to her feet awkwardly, the both of them in a staggered run from the motel, basically leaning on each other to stay upright.

"There. That car," Ororo muttered, angling them towards a nondescript black sedan. She opened the door without any compunctions and unlocked the other one for Remy, and they both collapsed on the seats as she began to hotwire the car. There was no time for complaints or regrets, and strangely enough she didn't feel the need to voice them.

Remy and Ororo limp back to recover from their last encounter.



They limped along the shadow of the alley, casting furtive looks around them as they did so. Remy's side still oozed blood, but it was slowly under the pressure of his hand. The Reaver's cut across Ororo's shoulder and back blazed in the icy night, but there was no time to pause. LeBeau had led the way, despite his wounds, knowing the city better and threading them deeper into the seedy part of town, where their bloodied and torn outfits would draw less attention.

Finally, he paused, sinking back against the bricks for a moment. The two broken fingers on his left hand stuck out oddly, but he'd made no attempt to touch them yet. Remy opened his eyes after a moment. "You still wit' me, chere?"

"Yes," Ororo replied, lightly brushing the tips of her fingers over the bruised and puffy skin under her right eye experimentally. She winced and dropped her hand back to her side at the burning pain the movement of her arm brought, knowing that she would likely feel even worse once the adrenaline stopped coursing through her system. "Alive, at least. And in one piece, more or less."

"Barely. Come on. Dere's a motel down de street dat's not so choosy." Remy dug into his pocket and pulled out the rest of his money. "Dere's enough dere for some first aid supplies and some food. Get patched up."

Somehow they managed to drag themselves to a rundown convenience store, purchasing ice and a cheap car first aid kit, along with some wholly unappetizing pre-packaged sandwiches. By the time they reached the motel the cut on Ororo's back was hurting even more, roiling waves of nausea and white-hot pain passing through her with each movement.

They had reached the parking lot when the figure stepped out of the darkness, lighting a cigarette as he stood in their way.

"You know, I would have never believed it if I didn't get a chance to see it wit' my own eyes." The mouth moved around the smoke to a grin. "De great Gambit, stumbling along like a beat up drunk. How's dat for irony."

Remy looked up and when he finally spoke, his tone was flat. "Shut up, Marius. You supposed to be dead."

"Very nearly, homme." Marius Boudreaux finally walked fully into the overheads. He had always been a big man, and before, a handsome one. But fire had taken his left ear, and torn scars up and down his neck and jaw line. "One chance in a t'ousand dat de explosion knocked me clear. Fortunately, mon fils isn't 'ware of dat yet. Who's de negre?" Marius indicated Ororo with the jab of his chin.

"None of you business. You here to finish dis, Marius?"

"Non, Remy, but don't think dat I wouldn't enjoy it. Despite what you did to my brother, my sister blowing me up and killing my father takes priority." He blew out a plume of smoke. "Dere's an ambush waiting for you at de police station in Bellevue. Dat's where you friend is. 'donna's had people working to set up a riot as cover."

"We can get past her."

"De only reason dat you still alive is because 'donna wanted you to get in sight of de end before her men killed you. More, what, poetic or some merde like dat." Marius reached into his pocket and lobbed a white card at LeBeau. "Dat's de key card for de station. If you can get inside, dat will open everything but de cells."

"Why?" Remy pocketed the card. "You've always hated me, Marius. Why not let 'donna kill me?"

"Because without you, dose faggot Thieves and Whores will fold against her. If I'm going to have a chance to take back my Guild, I need your help." Marius pointed at him. "So you stay alive long enough so that I'll have the chance to kill you after de Assassins are mine again."

Marius turned to walk away and then stopped. "Oh, and if you need some money, I'll pay de bitch a century for a blow. Three if I can fuck her asshole against dat wall." Remy's hand tightened on Ororo's arm, silently warning her not to speak. She stayed furiously mute, and Marius laughed again. "Maybe next time, femme." He called up as the night swallowed him up. Remy sighed and steered her towards the rental booth.

"Thank you," Ororo murmured through cracked lips, accepting the key from the motel clerk, who despite Remy's words gave them both a strange look from behind his plexiglas window. Shuffling down the hallway, they located their room and managed to get inside and lock the deadbolt before either of them collapsed. It was something of a miracle.

"This is insanity," Ororo declared, dropping the paper sack on the sagging mattress and moving to strip off the torn, blood-soaked shirt she wore. "We nearly died out there." Gritting her teeth, she managed to pull one sleeve off, though she had to stop afterward as she waited for the pain to die down. She ached all over, the myriad of injuries melding together until she couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.

"I think dat's de point." Remy said, taking a seat and gritting his teeth. He grabbed his two broken fingers and pulled them out and back towards himself. He didn't bother trying to stop the scream of pain that escaped between his teeth, focusing on ignoring the cracking sounds and setting them back in place.

Once he was done he paused, breathing heavily. He reached into his pocket, and one armed pulled out two bottles he'd lifted from the store where they had made their purchases, tossing one small flask of whiskey over at Ororo. "Painkiller." He said in way of explanation as he carefully taped his broken fingers to his hand, immobilizing them a little.

Setting the whiskey aside, Ororo continued to work the shirt off over her bracelet. She threw it to the floor and stalked into the bathroom, snagging the bottle of rubbing alcohol along the way. Stepping into the tub, she uncapped the bottle and poured it over her shoulder, her lip cracking and bleeding anew as she bit down on it.

"I think I would rather be dead," she said loudly enough to be heard in the other room, resting her forehead against the cool tile of the shower. "At least it would hurt less," she added in an undertone.

Remy looked up from his quick stitches on the bullet wound on his side. The round fortunately had entered clean and glanced off his ribs, leaving only a pair of shallow wounds. It hurt, but didn't impair him at all. He snipped off the thread with the scissors and bound his side up with bandages before getting up.

Ororo was standing in the dingy tub, the rubbing alcohol mixed with blood dripping from the wound. Remy came forward to look. "You going to need dat stitched, Stormy. Doesn't look like it damaged de muscles too bad." Remy got the full kit and came back into the bathroom.

"Then I am going to need-- ah," she said, accepting the flask of whiskey he pressed into her hand for the second time. She unscrewed the cap and took a deep swig, closing her eyes and turning her back to Remy. "Go ahead," she muttered, trying to focus her thoughts on something more pleasant. Open skies, the smell of rain at dusk... being anywhere but there.

The careful stitching hurt, but not as much as she might have expected. Remy's uninjured right hand was very deft and he worked fast. He led her back out to sit on the edge of the bed as he ran the alcohol over it again and bandaged it as tightly as he dared. "It's not a pretty one, 'Ro, but it missed all of de important parts. I don't see any bad muscle damage."

"It is fine," Ororo murmured, testing her range of motion gingerly. Satisfied that the bandage would hold, at least for now, she turned back towards Remy. "How are your injuries?" she asked, feeling a bit light-headed as the whiskey began to kick in.

"Painful." He'd bandaged the bullet wound, and his hand, ignoring the shallow cuts that crisscrossed him. He hadn't taken a look at the leg yet. The blows hadn't broken the skin, so there was little the tiny medkit could offer. "Still have a little bit of mobility wit' dis hand, but... I'm slowed down." He finished grimly, taking a sip from the bottle.

"Even a slowed-down Remy is better than most," Ororo murmured, leaving off the obvious and pessimistic afterthought. But not better than Reavers. We are in such trouble. With a tremulous sigh she reached for the flask, noticing as she did so that a cut on Remy's scalp was dribbling blood down the side of his face.

"Hold still," she instructed him, and picked up one of the now-bloodied rags that he had used on her back. Dumping a bit more alcohol on it, she steadied his face with one hand and began to dab at the cut carefully.

Remy hissed as she dabbed at it. "Dat stings." He muttered, an almost ludicrous statement considering his other wounds.

Ororo snorted at this, continuing her ministrations until the wound was relatively clean and the blood was blotted from his face. "You will live," she told him, continuing to wipe the sweat and grime off his face with the cool cloth. Any moment she thought her body might stop listening to her and collapse in a heap; she only hoped she was able to shower and get into the bed before doing so.

He grinned thinly, watching her as she wiped at his face. "You know, I don't get any prettier, Stormy." He reached up to stop her hand, covering it with his. "Don't matter how much you keep wiping."

"It was more for the housekeeper's sake than yours or mine," she told him. "We are making a mess, and I do not think we can afford to leave much of a tip." Another wave of lightheadedness swept over her and she wavered just a bit, hand clasping Remy's.

Remy reached out to steady her, catching her around the waist as she wavered. Both of them were on the cusp of breakdown, the potent cocktail of adrenalin, alcohol and pain in their systems the only thing keeping them from passing out right then and there. She hadn't moved her hand, still clutching his beside his face.

For a long moment all Ororo did was look at him, struck by the overwhelming desire to feel anything other than the mixture of pain and hopeless dejection coursing through her. Then she leaned in, closing the distance between them and pressing her cracked and bloodied lips to his almost desperately, shutting her eyes against the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Remy stiffened at the contact, just momentarily from shock. He and Ororo had never broached this before, never hinted towards it, so why now? That thought was quickly wiped away by the feel of her against him. It had been a long time, not since before he'd been crippled, since Lorna had turned his life upside down.

The kiss ended as soon as it had begun, though it wasn't a second more before Ororo began to tug at the remains of Remy's shirt, pulling it over his shoulders and down his arms. She moved quickly, almost as if she was afraid that if she stopped to think about it she would lose her nerve and stop completely. The warmth of his skin was a good distraction, however, and her pulse began to race as she leaned in again, pressing him back onto the bed and rising up above him.

Remy's lips found her throat, sliding his hands down the warm flesh of her torso. Their bodies were equally bruised, but the painful twinges were ignored in the rising urgency of the moment. He groaned, deep in his throat as he reached her waist, unsnapping the catch on her pants.

Bloodied shirts and trousers soon joined the rags on the floor of the room, and Ororo skimmed her fingers over his bare skin, brushing bruises and lacerations on her way up his sides. Shifting, she captured his lips once more with her own, her tongue sliding into his mouth slickly as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

Remy's hands skimmed her body, carefully avoiding the wound across her back. His fingertips traced hot lines down her ribs and over the swell of her breasts, drinking her in with his sense of touch. Their movements became fiercer, more urgent, drowning the reality of the stress and pain and hopelessness in physical motions. His hand slipped down her taut stomach, almost gaunt after the two weeks of little food, and down between her legs, already finding her wet.

With a moan Ororo arched her back, one hand moving to clench Remy's shoulder as she straddled him. Forgetting everything except the taste of him and the way he writhed beneath her, she closed her eyes and kissed him again, her throat burning with each deep, gasping breath.

It was well past passion, more hunger and need involved. Remy slipped into her effortlessly, holding her close against him as he did. The sudden connection between the two was electric, causing them both to shudder. He bit down on her throat, almost drawing blood with the need to taste her.

Ororo dug her nails into Remy's skin, pressing her hips against his and sucking in a breath against his lips. She felt completely alive, every nerve singing as she began to move above him slowly, and then faster and faster. She could taste blood and didn't know if it was his or hers, only that her lips stung as she kissed her way along his jawline.

It was agony, pain the only proof that they were still alive right now. His breathing was coming ragged, matching hers as they moved faster. The scent of her was strong, mixed with stale sweat, blood, and the grime from two weeks travel. Underneath all that, improbably, the smell of rain. He bent his head close to her, between her breasts, and closed his eyes. Nothing but the smell and the feel of her was real right then.

When Ororo's climax came it ripped through her without warning, and she let out a strangled cry, tremors running through her uncontrollably. The thin walls around them did nothing to hold in the sound, but she didn't even have time to worry about this as lightheadedness threatened to overwhelm her.

Remy felt her clutch at him, her cry resonating. His fingers tightened on her sides, still moving inside her as she clung to him. It was intoxicating to have her so close, anyone so close. "Ororo..." he whispered, and stopped. There were no other words.