Our Hell: The Save / The Catch

[x-snowflake.livejournal.com]

An unexpected visitor confronts unexpected problems.

Moscow. LeBeau was getting immensely tired about being forced here. Natasha's voice had been a tad too pleased over the phone, which meant he was walking into something that he was sure he wasn't going to like one bit. How the hell had some kid from the mansion gotten here? Worse, why had she been picked up by the damn FSB and then kicked up to Vazhin's GRU protectorate? Remy had already gone to Hell to bring Illyana Rasputin back once. In a way, it looked like he was stuck repeating the gesture. His foul mood only deepened.

The guards at the doors of Lubyenka told him to wait, until the red headed Russian agent finally stepped out.

"Remy Ivorovich! So good to see you."

"Stuff it, Natasha." Remy scowled, following her inside, the woman's feigned cheerfulness getting on his nerves. Mind you, that was likely the point in the first place.

"There's no reason to be rude, Remy. After all, we're all friends here." She said with a widow's smile, taking him through levels of security. The infamous former headquarters of the KGB had once been a prosperous insurance company, which had held it's own surities in underground vaunts. The Soviet secret police had enlarged them dramatically as their own holding and not so strongly denied torture cells. When Remy had started in his business, the myth of the agency was still high and dangerous, and those cells had claimed no small number of CIA informants and operatives.

Finally, she opened a door, and led him into a bare room, furnished only with a table at one end, and a few scattered chairs. In the chair under the bare lightbulb, which was steel and secured to the floor, sat the blonde teen that Remy knew as Illyana. She was handcuffed, and a chain ran from her wrists down between her legs, and was secured on the back of the chair. Across from her, at the table, sat Alexis Vazhin, flipping through paperwork and giving the terrifying scene as little consideration as he would a misfiled tax form. It was impressive theatre, the kind which the Russians excelled at. Remy was impressed that there wasn't a puddle of urine at Illyana's feet yet.

Illyana looked up dully at the noise, then squinted like she couldn't quite make Remy out - blinked rapidly, as though she was trying to clear her vision. Was she hallucinating now? Why would she hallucinate him? He seemed fairly solid, and his expression was none too pleased. Was he in league with – that didn't even make any sense. Had she passed out again? She had come to the conclusion a few hours ago that she had been poisoned – it was the only reason she could think of why the effects weren't wearing off – but she was finding that the conclusion didn't help to make sense of anything. Up to and including the new visitor. When she spoke, though she controlled it as much as she could, her voice shook, and grated against every inch of her skin. "Remy LeBeau?"

Remy looked over at her, but said nothing. Not until he understood exactly what was happening in this place. Vazhin motioned for him to take a seat, and looked unperturbed when the Cajun shook his head, electing to stand instead. Natasha made a quiet exit out the door, and Vazhin took another moment with his paperwork before setting it down and looking pleasently up at LeBeau.

"It was good of you to come. I trust the flight was pleasent?"

"Dey ran out of peanuts over Iceland."

"You should fly AeroFlot next time."

"Remy remember to do dat." The assassin settled himself slightly. If it was a trap, it was a poor one. They hadn't bothered to try and take any of his cards, and Vazhin was will aware of LeBeau's powers. He wished Betsy was here, to give a better read on the man, but that wasn't an option. "So, dis just an invite for coffee?"

"Hardly, nyet. I can offer you tea though."

"Non. Maybe one for de femme? Uncuff her long 'nough to drink it?"

Vazhin smiled, a grudging approval at Remy's play. He nodded and touched a buzzer on the desk. In a few moments, a soldier came in, carrying a tray with a tea pot and the glass cups with metal holders that the Russian's favoured. Vazhin nodded and the man walked over to Illyana, unlocking the handcuffs around her wrists.

Illyana glanced warily from one man to the other, accepting a cup of tea because the alternative was getting locked up again. She took a careful sip, trying hard to hide how desperately thirsty she was, and tried to keep her focus on Vazhin and Remy, though the room swayed dizzily, and she found herself expending considerable effort to stay upright.

"So, why am I here, Vazhin?"

"The girl, obviously LeBeau. She was found breaking into a former Soviet archive in Chita. Military secrets of the Russian Federation. Such a crime is punishable by death in this country."

"Dat's doesn't expain why I'm here, Vazhin."

"I didn't steal anything," Illyana interjected, tiredly. She'd said it enough that she knew it would probably be ignored, and though she had as little idea why Remy was there as he did, she had lost her faith in the last-minute rescue more than a decade ago.

"Shut up." Remy shot back at her. He turned to Vazhin. "You found her in Chita?"

"Indeed. Imagine our surprise. Still, one doesn't look such opprotunities in the mouth. Our young Illyana, returned to the only archive that deals with mutant experiments that is on record. A girl who is only nine years old, and yet, looks physically like a twenty year old. Most importantly, a student at Charles Xavier's school; a man noted to not only be training young mutants, but also very close to the President of the United States. All these details... they would make her trial very damning, wouldn't they? Especially with her most public execution. Did Xavier hire an agent, such as that shapeshifter that his former partner controls? Is this girl a soldier, a pawn? Most importantly, what has Xavier done with the nine year old Russian girl that was entrusted to his care. We would certainly demand her to be return to our embassy to ascertain her safety and well being." Vazhin's voice was musing as he constructed the trap that Illyana unwittingly had created for the school. Her very existance could unravel all that Xavier and the X-Men had fought for. LeBeau's now murderous look showed that the reprecussions were not lost on him. He shot one look over at her before turning back to Vazhin.

"You got us by de balls, Vazhin. Good work. But burning Xavier's doesn't help you at all, and if it did, I wouldn't be here. So what's de real offer on de table?"

"I can't tell you how good it is to work with a professional, Remy." Vazhin laughed suddenly. "Da, we have no wish to harm the school yet. We have concerns, especially considering the power of those you have involved, but you have served for our interests and not against. For now. This girl is valuable insurance, more so against you, I think. Xavier is a powerful man, but a known commodity. You, on the other hand, are not. You have personnal who once served in that school, and we assume you have unofficial ties. But the two operations we have collaborated on? Those are certainly not ones that Xavier would have anything to do with. That concerns me."

The Russian reached around his desk and drew out a file. "I cannot trust you to not one day move against my own interests. Therefore, I must find a way to limit your ability to, and this girl seems a likely choice. The deal is very simple. First, I will unofficially release the girl into your custody. Should we ever find her, or you operating against the Russian Federations interests, I will see to it her arrest and subsequent escape are released publicly, and the entire diplomatic might of my country will be used to see to it that your lives become very complicated."

Remy surpressed a string of curses. That idiot of a blonde student had just won the Russians a free pass for any type of mutant militarization they wanted to delve into, because either the X-Men or X-Force would be shoved into the spotlight in retaliation. The potential reprecussions of that were very dangerous indeed. "Dat's de first. De second?"

"The British have established a lab in Uganda, with the assistance of the local government. It is very advanced, extremely secret, and above all, established where scrutiny is very low. It suggested illegal experimentation to us, and one of our agents discovered they are working on a new kind of cybernetics program." Vazhin leaned back in his chair, and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "We're very curious to see what they have developed, but we lack a strong operations team to send against them. Illyana's release will be based on obtaining that information within ten days."

"You honestly think Remy going to accept dancing on you string forever, Vazhin. I don't know dis girl. As for Illyana Rasputin? Dere enough nine year olds available to turn you game right back on you. What do we care if you execute one nameless mutant dat you likely picked up in a Minsk whorehouse, neh?"

Illyana opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when a rare moment of common sense indicated to her that no matter what was going on here, nothing she could say was going to help her. At all. She tried to keep her eyed on Vazhin, but her focus kept slipping to Remy; his look had not been lost on her.

Vazhin smiled and nodded. "How much is the girl worth to you, LeBeau? I'd say more than the hard line you're taking with me. But you've been useful to me in the past. Let's say a year, shall we? You serve as guarantee for the behaviour for the girl, and of course my request in Africa, and I can be willing to spare her life to you."

Remy put his hand over his eyes. Pete was going to kill him.

The magnitude of her error was belatedly beginning to dawn on the blonde girl watching the scene play out, and she inhaled a little too sharply - snapped her mouth shut immediately after, sensing that whatever happened next, she didn't much want to interrupt it.

Remy nodded sharply. There wasn't anything that would make this nightmare better. "You got a deal, Vazhin. You'll excuse me if I don't shake you hand 'bout it."

Vazhin merely smiled and picked up another file. "Not at all, LeBeau. Natasha will pass along the information you will need. I've issued a temporary visa for her. Be advised that if we find her back in Russia, we won't wait for the trial, da? Or to make a deal before using what we know."

"I understand the threat, oui. Makes me miss de days I was paid to kill people like you, Vazhin."

"We're all friends now, Remy. It's a new world." Vazhin smiled as LeBeau took Illyana by the arm and pulled her out the door.

Illyana stumbled over her own feet, but managed to stay mostly upright, due in large part to Remy's grasp on her arm. Finding the floor with her feet was suddenly the most difficult thing she'd done in years. Her head seemed to be clearing, just a little, but her sense of coordination was not returning with any kind of speed. "Um," she said, with the vague idea that she ought to say something, even if her stomach was imploding and the floor wouldn't just stay still. "Thanks."

***

And sometimes, when you try too hard, keeping people safe looks an awful lot like putting them in mortal danger.


Remy hadn't said anything as they had collected details from Natasha and boarded the plane back to New York. He hadn't slept, only silently reviewing the materials, making use of the drinks service and ignoring every question that Illyana put towards him; an aura of paletable menace around him.

Illyana had figured out fairly early on that speaking was not going to get her anywhere. Not only did he look mad – which usually wouldn't have deterred persistence – but along with her mental acuity came a fuller understanding of what exactly had happened, and a suspicion that she was much, much stupider than she had ever given herself credit for. The dizziness had worn off a short while ago, and she'd been fending off strange looks from the flight attendants by supporting the least-bruised side of her face with one hand and staring very intently at her other hand. She wasn't entirely sure – judging from quick, discreet glances at him – but she thought he might be planning on killing her himself.

Remy finally put away the papers and closed the case. He stowed it carefully under his seat behind leaning back in his chair and finally regarding the blonde teen. "Do you have de slightest idea exactly what you've dropped all of us into?"

She glanced up, feeling the pounding in her head skip a beat – in the least pleasant way possible – when she did so. What exactly was the right answer to that? She went for honesty, mainly because it was the only possible thing she could think of to say: "Not exactly."

"In order to preserve your life, I have to see if my people are willing to risk dere lives on a last minute plan into a highly secure facility in what can be described as a hostile environment, dat puts one of our strongest networks at great risk. Basically, I can't possibly imagine a worse situation or one more likely to end to de deaths of several people." Remy's voice was low; inaudible more than a few feet away, but his intensity carried every single word clearly to her. "Dat's clear 'nough for you?"
"Yes." She went back to staring at her hands, feeling it hit her right in the chest. This was what she'd been trying to avoid, getting people dragged into – things. Which were now significantly worse. So, before thinking about it, she asked flatly, "So why didn't you leave me to die?" Though her voice was quiet, she couldn't erase the weight of defeat in it.

"Don't think dat I wasn't tempted. Unfortunately, leaving you in de hands of Vazhin works against our interests too. He's not a bad person, but his first loyalty to to his country. Which means he wouldn't hesitate to get you, me and anyone else he might perceive as threatening it killed." Remy shook his head. The other reason was that she was from Xavier's, and he couldn't afford to let anyone threaten that school. Vazhin wouldn't without a good reason, which is part of why LeBeau was so mad. Illyana had given him a tie on X-Force for the next year. Intelligence often dealt with back and forth negotiations, but now, Vazhin had the upper hand and would no doubt make the most of it. It was exactly what he or Pete would do in his place, after all.

"So, dat means you get to come wit' us to Uganda. Looking at dese plans, dere's no easy way in wit' de time we have, unless I have a teleporter along. De rules are very simple. You do exactly what I say, and you speak exactly when questions. De rest of de time, you keep you mouth shut and do your part wit'out de slightest hesitation. Otherwise, Remy take you back to Alexis myself. Understood?"

"Yeah." It wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting, but she wasn't exactly in a position to negotiate, and it didn't require anything but an affirmative. The less syllables, the better.

"Bein. Now Remy's going to get some sleep. Try not to teleport away while I do." He slouched down in his chair and pulled his coat tighter around him. "Believe me, petite, you don want to make me come find you."

She nearly said, "I'm not stupid," but on second thought, that seemed like something that might not be obvious. So to speak. So she muttered, "I won't," and sighed under her breath, fixing her focus back on her feet.