xp_logs | New Orleans is Sinking: Desperate Plans

X-Force figures out what to do in the wake of all of this information.

The last time they had one of these conferences, it had been planning to go after Amanda, and if necessary, kill those who had killed her. Fortunately for them, Amanda had not died that day, and they had returned with at least a sense of accomplishment. Today, looking at the research each of them had worked on, and adding up some very unpleasant circumstances, it looked like lethality was rearing head again, only this time they were walking into death, rather than preparing to cause it.

No one wanted to comment on Marie-Ange, her chair now occupied by Ororo, who had flatly refused to leave them and return to the mansion. Whatever the outcome, she had made the decision to stand with X-Force on this, and none of Remy's many arguments could disuade her. For his part, Remy had resigned himself to this. He knew that Tante's summons couldn't be avoided, and if his death was going to give thousands a chance, he couldn't say no without basically returning to his life as Gambit.

"Right, before anything else, Marie-Ange is stable, but in critical condition. Dey were able to stop de internal bleeding, but de damage to her heart is serious, and combined with de blood loss and de system shock, she doesn't have a lot of resources to pull strength from. De next day or two are supposed to be de real key. If she remains stable, den dere's an even chance dat she'll be able to rally back from de damage and slowly get better. If she starts crashing again, dey not sure if her heart is strong enough to-- it's still not good." He said finally. He'd called two minutes before walking into the meeting, and between his menace and Doug's intensity, the attending doctor had been wise enough to make himself available for regular updates.

Amanda slumped a little at the report. She could Heal Marie-Ange - if she had access to enough volunteers. And all of X-Force wouldn't be enough, not without draining them to the point they would be useless for days afterwards.

New Orleans didn't have days, not if what they'd found was right.

"Wanda and me think we found what they're planning to do, what Angie was having visions of," she said, rallying herself. Brooding wouldn't help anyone here. "There's a ritual that ramps up natural weather patterns - we think, if they had access to a storm already brewing, they could whip it up into something that'd take out most of the low-lying parts of New Orleans." She glanced over at Ororo for confirmation of the next part.

"And as circumstance would have it, there was a low pressure system off the coast that was projected to grow into a tropical storm," the weatherworker said, picking up where Amanda had left off. "Perhaps even a hurricane, though nothing too intense. Of course, with this ritual..." She shook her head ruefully; weather was not something to be played with. "Already it has grown far beyond what it should be, and it continues to do so as it moves inland. With the winds, rain, and potential for flooding, a good portion of the city is in danger. Lives will be lost if the residents are not evacuated, and property damage is assured regardless."

"The ritual in question is African in history, possibly a bokor spell from what we were able to glean," Wanda added, flipping quickly through her notes. She didn't need to, that information was all in her head, but it gave her hands something to do. "Fairly old, powerful. Which means the person responsible for this is probably not going to be some rank amateur."

"Coupled with the fact that we know that certain people have done work with the bokor before, and the fact that someone tried to put an armor-piercing round through Remy, almost certainly to take him permanently out of the picture for what's going on in New Orleans, I think we all can hazard a guess as to the person responsible." Doug's voice was flat and businesslike as he ticked off the points.

Mark glanced at Doug sadly and frowned beneath his Iraqi military beret. "But Candra isn't involved," he added, unwilling to be the one to actually vocalize Belladonna's name. "And not someone pretending to be her avatar or whatever, either. Which, I mean, is cold comfort, but . . ." He trailed off, eyes still fixed on Doug's blank expression.

"It's not Candra." Amanda was proud of the fact her voice didn't shake as she said the name. "It's Belladonna. Got to be."

"Okay, so what do we do about it?" Sarah was leaning onto the table, her palms flat against the surface. At least she wasn't tapping dents into it with all the nervous energy she had. "If we go after Belladonna, does this storm fizzle out? Or is it too late for that?"

Making a noise, Wanda shook her hand back and forth. "We might be looking at a little of both," she responded. "With some spells, if you take out the spellcaster and the power behind it, you will take out most, if not all, of the power behind the spell. This is not quite like that. If we manage to take out Belladonna or disrupt this spell, it will decrease in strength."

"It's not Belladonna wit' de spell. She's behind de ritual, but dere's no way she's actually involved in it. Dat takes more voodoo magic den she's ever learned. Non, Remy bet dat any of Candra's bokor dat survived got taken in by de Guild, and dey'll be working for her on dis. Dat means hitting de Guild directly at Belladonna's estate. De problem wit' dat is dere's likely going to be some opposition. Doug, Mark?"

"Mercenaries," Doug explained as he leaned forward, his voice staying neutral and matter-of-fact. "She's brought in a couple hundred 'security consultants'," his lip twisted at the euphemism in a small show of emotion, "but rather than helping evacuate the city, they're making sure certain sections of it stay right where they are." He glanced briefly at Amanda and Remy. "Namely the poor quarters where Tante Mattie draws most of her support and power from."

"We're talkin' worse than Blackwater-kinda guys," Mark added. "Though they're there, too. S'like every Mafia-murderer-mercenary-gang-Yakuza-what the fuck movie rolled up into real people. Got a friend down there who knows someone who spilled a beer on a guy . . . Well, I have a friend that knew someone who spilled a beer on a guy." He repressed a shudder.

"Holding the residents inside the city is a death sentence - those that are not killed in the initial storm will surely suffer exposure and starvation," Ororo said darkly. "There is likely to be little to no outside help with the evacuation, either, nor involvement from the city government. Something has convinced them it would be best to look the other way in this catastrophe." Her tone left little question as to what (or who) this 'something' might be.

"State and federal government aren't much better. De Governor is in a pissing contest wit' de White House on calling a State of Emergency, FEMA keeps saying dat de storm will downgrade or move before it makes landfall, and de House is arguing whether or not a forced evacuation is even constitutional." Remy passed along the information Emma had dug up. "De reality is dat de storm going to miss de main refineries and de oil and deep water cargo docks. So it's just lives and property damage, and no one wants to risk dere career for de poorest region in de country."

"How very grim. Surprise." Sofia finally turned away from the window, where she had been watching the sun turn golden in dusk. "I'm not wearing a cape, by the way. I don't care how much this is out of every summer movie, I refuse to die in a cape, even if they are vogue this season."

Wanda thought briefly to the demon attack on Halloween and to her costume, complete with a cape. "Been there, done that, never again," she said with a wry, tired humor.

"As if it couldn't get worse, Sofia is right. She and Sarah dug up some interesting information about some recent purchases from a drilling and mining company by one of de Guild front companies."

"Like what?" Amanda asked, sounding almost resigned.

Sarah looked back up from the table. "Like a shipment of heavy-duty demolition explosives being sent to New Orleans last week. I don't figure they're planning to use it for renovations."

"Non. De surest way of killing de city would be to cause a failure in de levee system. New Orleans is actually below sea level. Like it's a bowl dat de city rests in. To de South is de Gulf of Mexico. If a Cat-5 hurricane hits, it could overswamp de levees and flood de city, maybe cause a breach. If a breach is caused, nothing will stop de waters coming in. Using industrial munitions could destroy whole sectons of de system, and by de time it's discovered, you've got any matter of excuses dat it can't be terrorist sabotage."

"It's what Angie was seeing," Doug said quietly, looking up from where he was idly drawing on a notepad. "Flooding, people drowning, death walking the streets of New Orleans." He shivered.

"So we're talkin' about something that might rival San Diego?" asked Mark. He looked vaguely disgusted. Or maybe ill. "So, okay, we have a super magical hurricane powered by Belladonna, and private armies patrollin' Tantewhatshername's realm with explosives. So Belladonna stands to gain control over pretty much all of New Orleans, yeah? Is this, like, One Small Step for Megalomania or something? What's her goal?"

"Something de Guilds have never had before. Total power." Remy sighed and sat down. "Dis isn't de time for de whole history lesson, but de Guilds of New Orleans have always been balanced; on one hand, each of de five Guilds angles for dominance against each other. On de other hand, all of de Guilds are checked against de power of de poor community itself; immigrants, labourers, voodoo hougans and not so long ago, ex-slaves. Belladonna used de death of her father and de Guildmasters to destroy de first balance, nearly wiping out de Thieves Guild and forcing de others under de control of de Assassins. If she is able to use dis on de community, thousands, maybe tens of thousands will die. Half de wards in de city be unlivable for years, scattering dese people to shelters, new cities, relocation projects. Dere's nothing really of value in dat part of de city other den de community. Break dat, and de hougans and Tante do not have de power to stop any of Belladonna's plans."

He rubbed at his face for a moment, imagining he could feel Marie-Ange's blood still on it. "After de flood, when de reconstruction money comes flooding in, de Guilds will use de Baptiste's political connections to funnel it towards dere projects and skim a generous portion. My ex-wife is nothing if not cunning, mes amis. If she secures, New Orleans is owned lock, stock and barrel by de Guilds, wit' Belladonna at de head. Dat means expansion into other cities and countries from a completely safe base. End up making de Hellfire Club look small in a couple of years. Dat's why dey tried to kill me in such a sloppy way. No resources to put into it, but worth a throwaway shot because even a wound takes de last piece out of de game for Tante."

He stood up again. "Remy been called by Tante. I have to travel down to New Orleans. Some of you know why. 'manda too. De rest of you not bound to dis. Been talking wit' de exiled Guild members, and we've got a plan. It's a bad one, and a long shot, but it could work. But dis is our place, and believe me, being in dat city when de hurricane hits if we fail, one way or 'nother, we dead. Remy not 'bout to say no t' help, but dis nobody else's responsibility either."

"Perhaps we have not been called, as you have," Ororo spoke up after a long moment's silence. "But there is still the responsibility to save lives if possible. I would promise the support of the X-Men, but... I do not think that is what you need." That, and I, like Remy, cannot ask my friends to walk into certain death for a cause not their own. She knew it was an unfair decision to make on her own, but she was already scared enough as it was. "But you do need someone to hold back that hurricane while you execute your plan. I cannot promise you a miracle, but I can give you time to work." The faintest quaver of her voice as she lifted her chin was all there was to give away her tightly-wound nerves; that, and the darkening clouds outside the window.

Wanda glanced out the windows and then back again, simply saying "I am in" in response.

"Me too," Mark echoed a second later.

Amanda didn't say anything, simply rose from the table. "I'll go call Emma, let her know what's going on. No way we'll get a commercial flight." Before she turned to leave, she added. "I'll meet you at the airport. Got a couple of things to do first." She didn't need to mention the hospital.

One by one, they agreed, and Remy nodded. "Merci. Remy see you on de plane." As they all filed out. Except for one.

Sofia and Remy share a quiet conservation after the others have left.

She'd never noticed before; the walls were a strange beige colour in here. After arriving to the walls and walls of aqua, it should have been obvious, it should have been a little taste of, well, taste, within bad 80's prom themes. The oddity was the way it had gone almost a dove grey in the twilight, just there within the window of twilight on the wall, as her co-workers exited the room, one by one, chairs scraping against the floor.

"Seems dat everyone is gone. Dat what you were waiting for?" Remy said, sitting still in his chair, and looking at her. She'd been chracteristically silent during the meeting, and while the other members ran out to get prepared, Sofia hadn't budged.

"Hm?" she hummed in return, an uncharacteristic moment lacking in poise, and turning her head to him. Sofia allowed herself to stare a moment, blinking slowly as if drunk, and smiled at him. "Hello, petit. When did you get here?"

"Dat's my linguistic habit, you know." Remy said, shuffling his papers into order. "Remy guess dat you mostly awake during all dat. So, you not planning to come, are you?"

"I'd apologise but I wouldn't mean it anyway. It is not my fault your researching skills are lacking," she replied automatically, a script filed away for moments just like this. Sofia watched, pulling a paper out of his stack, and another, and making them dance around him. "A bunch of Canadian exiles that I don't know. Let me think."

"Hundreds of thousands of people. Remy could appeal to your humanity." Remy snorted and stood up. "Didn't think dat would work. It's pretty remarkable, you know. Remy a monster in de end, but you aren't, and you like to act de part."

Sofia squinted hard, and one of the sheets folded, folded, itself into a crane, flapping its wings at the Cajun indignantly. "What can I say. I'm a horrible human being. I don't want to die for people I don't give a fuck for."

"I know." Remy said, leaning against the back of a chair. "You know dat Ororo going into de teeth of dat thing, and she not coming back. Most likely none of us are, but especially her. In dat kind of hurricane wind, dere's not de slightest chance of her surviving."

"She loves you." The bird dropped, hit the floor and crumpled beneath the toe of her boot. She picked it up, leaning over, and pulled the wings apart to its basic parts, smoothing the paper against her thigh. "Give me a reason."

"What do you want?" Remy said, professional and yet, not cold. Over the last year, he'd never come to like Sofia, but he'd slowly acquired a lot of respect for her. It wasn't possible to understand her, but he was getting bits and pieces. "Whatever you want, dis is de blank check. Because if Ororo going into de teeth of de hurricane, dere's no one dat Remy can think of more likely to bring her back out alive, even if only to show me dat you can."

A warm breeze curved in, curled from the back of his ear along his jaw. "Everything. I get to protect the princess? Is that what you're asking?" Sofia hauled herself to her feet as if her bones had fused, painful and long, and slipped the paper into its proper place, leaning an extra second. "Ask me."

"I want you to protect Ororo. Go into de storm and bring her out again." Remy said quietly.

Sofia laughed, like a leaf skeleton. "Thank you."

"You know Sofia," Remy grinned. "You really a bitch." He gathered up his information and headed for the door. "You gon do it too. Just to prove it, neh?"

"How does the rhyme go? Anything you can do, I can do better?" she asked, opening it for him. "Go say goodnight to her, little prince."

"One day, Remy gon figure you out, Sofia." He smiled, and tucked the files under his arm. "Not dere yet, but one day. And merci."