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xp_logs2008-12-30 11:19 pm
x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2008-12-30 11:19 pm
Operation: Anansesem, Africa
In Africa, Remy and Bishop go seeking a ghost in Africa while Jubilee gets an assist from Morgan in trying to get some information.
"I hate Africa." Remy said, for maybe the tenth time since they'd landed. The Cajun had been eloquent on the fact that there was no place to get killed as easily and as randomly as Africa, and the interconnected loyalties and feuds linked to layers of political, religious, tribal, and cultural attachments, along with all the normal motivations of poverty, violence, and power made it almost impossible to know who to trust. It was fitting, since the man they were going to talk to was someone that LeBeau had been very clear about not trusting.
"De assassins dat live long enough to get old end up damaged 'bout every way you can imagine. In my Gambit days, I met McLeish in a whorehouse in Morocco during a meeting between arms dealers dat both of us had contracts for. He liked de fact dat I had fun using de weapons dat dey sold most of to kill dem, and we agreed on a business relationship over a case of whiskey while using de corpses as footstools and end tables. He's clever, skilled, and completely amoral." Remy had underlined the potential dangers before the flight. "When we get to his place, don't forget dat for a second we dealing wit' someone who's learned to be very good at survival."
Now, he was sitting in a jeep with Bishop, at the entrance to the plantation that McLeish had used his money to carve out of the savannah. LeBeau lit another cigarette and stared at the house for a long moment before touching his cellphone's on button.
"Jubilee, Copycat, we going in five. Make sure you in position once we got through de front door." With that, they were committed. Remy blew out a plume of smoke and nodding to Bishop. "Guess it time to say salut, neh?" He said with a wry smile as they drove up to the house.
***
Jubilee glanced over at Morgan as she slid her cellphone closed, it was a pre-paid one, cheap and easy enough to ditch once the job was done. She slung the backpack at her feet up and over her back, adjusting the straps till they were comfortable.
"You ready?" she asked her companion, glancing at her briefly before switching her gaze back to the house. They were situated on a ridge several feet from the place, out of sight of the dwelling but close enough to get into position quickly.
Morgan nodded, her borrowed body that of a random woman she'd walked past when they'd first arrived. Look like the natives, it was the first thing she'd learned from Aleister when he'd brought her into the mercenary world. Blue just stands out too much, makes you a target and makes you easier to track down for retribution.
After checking various holsters with guns in them and then the various sheaths with knives in them she nodded again. Morgan's smile was much warmer and kinder in the face of the young, African woman than it would have been on her own. The effect was brought down a notch when a 9mm HK handgun was slid from its holster at her left hip and the safety was flipped off. "Lead the way, butterfly."
"Butterfly?" Jubilee asked, somewhat distractedly as she watched for Bishop and Remy to enter the house. It wouldn't take them long to get down the ridge and to the house once they did. There, that was their signal to move, and Jubilee jumped from the ridge, rolling as she hit the dirt and then jumping again to control her descent to the bottom.
She dusted herself off as she waited for Morgan to join her, and then headed low and quick for the back of the house, and their way in. She'd bypass the security alarm and pick the lock and then they'd be in, from there they just had to find the damn computer.
"Feeling more moth-like?" A moment after the words were out of her mouth the butterfly had fluttered away. Or jumped off their ridge, which ever. She followed her companion, albeit a bit less gracefully. She didn't generally need acrobatics quite so much when on a job, but obviously she should look into remedying her tumbling skills.
Her job was simple, Morgan was backup muscle along with backup gun. All else failed she could pick up a mimic and pretend she belonged there. She left the actual breaking in to Jubilee because while she could help the girl had it under control and someone had to watch their backs just in case anyway. Once they slipped into the house Morgan's eyes darted around. She looked for exits, which doubled as entrances for anyone coming out of the place. She had the blueprint of the house in her head and nodded toward the doorway that marked their planned pathway.
Jubilee waited for Morgan to give them the all clear before moving further in, her tread silent against the threadbare carpet covering the room, and then the hallway beyond. She had the training, but Morgan had far more operational experience then she, and if there was anything Remy and his friends had drilled into her, it was that you always took into account what the person with the most experience said, even if you had to think for yourself after that.
She could hear movement in some other part of the house, a muffled conversation as she moved toward the right most door at the end of the hallway. Her shoulders were tense as she tried the doorknob and found it locked, something they'd expected.
"This is the one." she breathed softly, her voice only just above a whisper.
Morgan let Jubilee move ahead of her, wanting to be able to cover the other woman's back and keep an eye out for anyone who might come across them. Her footfalls were silent as well and she kept her breathing even to help train her focus where she needed it to be. When Jubilee paused so did Morgan, though her eyes went everywhere except to focus on her.
After Jubilee spoke Morgan finally looked at her and then set a hand lightly between the younger woman's shoulder blades on her back. "Try not to tense," she whispered, her voice as soft as she could make it. "Slows reaction time." The she nodded to the locked knob as if asking Jubilee to pick it. The mercenary took up silent post, using her body to shield the other woman's from the direction they'd come from while constantly sweeping her eyes down the length of the hall back and forth.
Jubilee relaxed the tense concentration in her muscles with a mental effort, going over the mission in her mind in order to re-focus herself before she reached forward and picked the lock with ease. There hadn't been much in the way of security that they'd seen yet, and it was making her jumpy as hell. You didn't slack on security systems unless there was a reason to forgo them, and that worried her.
She pushed the door open and hung back for a second as she watched the darkness beyond, allowing her eyes to adjust to the change in light. Stairs stretched out before the door, leading downwards to a junction, and more darkness beyond it. Jubilee measured the odds in her head, and then made a decision, reaching up to flip on the light switch she'd noticed moments before.
"Let's hope that doesn't alert anyone, hey?" she said, heading down the stairs with careful steps.
***
"You know I don't understand your French slang." Bishop gave a smirk back and stepped from the car.
After a moment of pause, he asked, "So, I've been curious; with everything I've heard about this guy did you bring me just to piss him off? Or are you just getting me wound tight so that when he starts his racist bullshit I'll shoot him?" Bishop was half joking but clearly only half.
"Two reasons, really. First, if I'm in Africa looking for information about something mystical, McLeish is going to expect dere to be a bigger job involved, which putting a big, black partner in the chair beside me will deflect his thoughts down different directions. McLeish is de type dat he'll assume you're either de money for me, or my dupe. Either way, it builds value in his mind and he might deal straight wit' us." Remy crushed out his cigarette on the way up to the front door, and the guards standing there.
"De other reason is dat if it goes bad, you big enough for Remy to hide behind when de bullets start flying. Tactics, non?"
The Cajun flashed him a grin and looked at the guards. His accent completely disappeared as he spoke to them. "You. Piss off and get McLeish. Tell the fucking White Ghost that Gambit doesn't like being kept waiting like a damn door to door salesman."
On of the guards vanished inside for a few minutes, then returned, and gestured that they should go inside. The house was cool and dark, spacious and well appointed, but badly lit.
A voice called from further back in the house. "Gambit can bloody well learn to wait for an old man. Come on through and have a drink with me."
They walked through to find a grey haired old man sitting at a large round table in the kitchen, peeling an orange with a knife. There was a bottle and three glasses on the table in front of him.
"I see that your hospitality hasn't changed, you old bastard." It was odd hearing the neutral American accent from LeBeau. A voice so common that you wouldn't even look up at the owner if it asked you to pass the salt during lunch at a deli counter. "Bishop, this is McLeish, scourge of every tiny warlord or pushy aid politico in Africa. McLeish, this is Bishop. He's the money."
Bishop didn't wait for invitation. He poured himself a glass of liquor, just slightly too full, and found what was clearly the best seat, not based on tactics but comfort. If he was going to be the money he had to play it and that meant not waiting for anyone and taking the best for yourself. He even barely acknowledged the man's presence, other then glancing to him before evaluating all the possessions in the room critically from his seat. "This must be where crap comes to die."
"Aye, the money maybe, but not the manners, I see." McLeish poured drinks for himself and Gambit, sliding one across the table to the other man. "You told him what they call me round here?"
"The White Ghost? Yeah, I did." Gambit took a sip from the drink and regarded the old man levelly. "Even mentioned that job we did together in Gabon ten years back. Bishop has a problem of the... unusual nature, and we need a little information to make sense of the whole thing. Trouble is, McLeish, is that he doesn't really believe 'the White Ghost' stories are anything but bullshit and self-promotion." Gambit turned in his chair to Bishop. "Isn't that right?"
After a drink from his glass, Bishop nodded. "Africa has been the place where people have been coming for hundreds of years to make a quick buck and exploit gullible locals." He laughed and set down his glass. "'The White Ghost' makes you sound ridiculous. I half expected to see you draped in a sheet with holes cut in it. However, Gambit says that you can do this fairly simple task for me and the village idiots sound like they'll let you."
Gambit laughed sharply before sipping his drink again. "I figured that you'd appreciate telling him about your work, McLeish."
McLeish fixed Bishop with a stare, his eyes so pale as to be very nearly as grey as his hair, no mirth at all in his expression.
"I'm nearly sixty years old, son. I killed ma first man three days after me thirteenth birthday. And I've killed aroond five hundred and fifty people in ma lifetime. When ye work it out, I reckon I've killed about 12 people a year, which is no exactly tryin' hard. Because when I do kill...when I kill, och but it's a beautiful thing."
He leant back in his chair, and sipped his drink.
"See, if I like a man, if he's a decent man who's done no more than make one mistake to get me sent to him, then I'll put a single, big bullet right here." he tapped his own forehead "For there's no point in a man like that dying unpleasantly. If a murderer has no respect, he's no better than a greedy animal, killin' more than it can eat. And me, I'm exact. I'm a man wi' class. Forty seven years I've been walking this earth with murder in ma hands and in ma mind. And I bloody love it."
McLeish smiled very widely.
"And round here, they know that. They know I'm not just one more pale figure, passing through. No, I'm the white bloody ghost to them."
"And that's why I want to hire you." Bishop sighed a bit. "Not for the beauty and resisting animal urges shit you're pitching. Because the locals think you're something special and unique to be feared and that's worth something. Now, you're you're done jerking yourself off can we get on with this?" It was a master stall plan. Someone with the self image this 'White Ghost' had would be compelled to assert even more that he was special and as long as money was on the table that would keep things from turning violent.
"Careful, Bishop. McLeish likes money, but it's not the only thing in life. After all, artistry deserves some respect." Gambit cautioned Bishop, secretly pleased with the other man. The former cop exuded entitled arrogance, almost a perfect copy of a hundred bastards that Gambit had taken jobs from, and likely McLeish as well. He very well might be planning to kill them, but there was no way that McLeish wouldn't believe that they were anything other than what they said.
"No no, by all means, let's 'get on with this'. Let's hear what you've come disturbing my peace and quiet for, and I'll decide if it's anything I'm interested in." McLeish's tone was light but there was a speculative look in his eyes as he looked at Bishop.
"Nothing more unusual than someone that needs to be gone. Gambit has the file. You two have worked together before and I can't be bothered with menial detail work. I'm just here to make sure it gets done otherwise I'm at the whim of incompetence and I pay very well so I can avoid that exact...plague." Bishop searched for the word to insist that failure was unacceptable. Any rich person who hadn't actually earned their money would abhor any failure of their underlings fitting the world to their desires and he had to mimic that perfectly. It was one of the most important features of his cover.
***
It just didn't seem possible that things were this easy, and the sheer lack of resistance or guards was making her feel increasingly jumpy as hell. Where was everyone?
"Way to doom us, butterfly," Morgan muttered. "Stay on guard, I don't like this." She shared her companion's concerns about the lack of security. If this guy had as much to hide as he apparently did just disabling the security alarm should have triggered something somehow. She forced herself to relax, having tensed up once Jubilee had flipped on the stupid light switch.
Morgan descended the stairs with her back pressed against the cold concrete that formed the wall on one side of them. She heard something. She wasn't sure what it was but she spun and reached out to Jubilee with her left hand, grabbing her by the shirt to still her. "Shh." Morgan needed to listen. The gun in her hand was pointed over Jubilee's shoulders to the space at the bottom of the stairs. "Hear that?"
Jubilee stilled at Morgan's touch, and then listened carefully as the other woman noted the sound. Now that she wasn't moving, she could hear something, a sort of clacking sound, like a boot heel on concrete, and it was more then one.
"Two of them, from the sound of it, probably a patrol. We're going to need to kill them, and quietly too." Jubilee noted, eying the gun that Morgan held for a second as she listened for more guards. From the looks of it, at least her companion had remembered to bring the silencer.
She pulled out the blackjack from her pocket and gripped it in one palm before pulling a rather serious looking knife from the sheathe at her belt, it's blade was smooth, without any serrated edges that might catch in a body. Knock them down from behind when possible, and then slit their throat. She could feel the prickling of sweat on her back already, but she ignored it as she always did. It didn't matter if you liked the job at hand, it simply had to be done and that was that. Nice people wouldn't be working for scum like Gambit's old friend anyhow.
***
"Easy enough, McLeish. We're looking for some information." Gambit slid the file across the table to the older man. "I assume you're still running your sideline in information about the occult in Africa? We've got a target that's mixed up in it somehow, and I think it's a perfect way to get to them. But I need some more details."
McLeish picked the file up, and flipped through it, while sipping his whiskey.
"Mmmmm. And when you say this man is the money, just how much money are we talking, here? This is a popular man you're looking for..."
"I have more than enough to pay any reasonable price you might ask. I've also been given enough information on your past cases to know what you really think is reasonable." Bishop made it clear that money wasn't a problem but also that he wasn't stupid enough to pay any ridiculous price asked. "Reputation is only worth so much and a job complete is a job complete, no matter who's doing it. You're getting the offer because you're the most likely to get it done."
"See McLeish? Nice and simple." Gambit smirked at him. "Monona Konmlan. Not the target, but she's deep in the magical community in Africa, and she's the connection to my target. I'll bring you the head as a bonus if you want. I only need a tongue to complete my collection."
McLeish closed the file with a snap.
"Aye, but your big black money man here seems terrible reluctant to tell me exactly how much she's worth to ye. So unless he's going to show a wee bit of spine, and deal with me like a grown man, it sounds to me like she's not worth as much to the pair you as she is to some other people I know."
Bishop laughed at the insults. "I thought a professional like you would give a cost before you'd resort to calling people names. Afraid that if you give your price people won't pay it or do you like to know what you're worth? I've come prepared to put your worth at a quarter million." He knew that it wasn't much to give someone with his reputation but the idea was to haggle up and give their other team more time.
"Och, I know just what I'm worth, son. But it turns out that you don't, and at my age, I've no interest in playing games with amateurs like you, no matter who you're friends with." He turned to Gambit. "You're welcome to come back and have a drink with me whenever you're passing, but next time, don't bother bringing any bloody children with you."
"Now McLeish--" Gambit started, and paused as his cell phone went off. "Just a sec." He put the phone to his ear.
***
While Jubilee may have needed to remind herself the job needed doing, Morgan didn't. Old hat, she thought as she shifted to the other side of the stair she stood on. "I want you behind me," she told the other woman without apology. Her voice wasn't harsh but she wanted any guns aimed at herself because Jubilee was the only one of them with the ability to surprise them with her attack if need be. After all, her mutation could be used if really necessary.
Silently, Morgan crept down a few stairs and slid in front of Jubilee. There was room on her right for Jubilee to get around if need be but the quicker this was done the less ruckus would be raised and the less attention they'd draw. She crouched down a little as the footsteps came closer, then paused. Two men suddenly jumped into view at the foot of the stairs. They had guns raised and pointed in the general direction of the women but they obviously hadn't had time to aim properly at their targets yet.
While the men were focusing Morgan pulled her trigger. A bullet buried itself in the forehead of one of the men and burst out the back of his skull. A second later the same happened to his companion. The bodies laid motionless on the floor but Morgan put up a hand to keep Jubilee still and silent. She wanted to be sure no one else was coming or had seen before they moved.
Jubilee kept back, waiting till it was obvious that this had been a simple patrol, and no others were likely to come, at least for the moment. Jubilee slipped past her companion and opened the door to the room on their right. "Help me pull them in here, it should keep anyone from really searching for us, at least for now."
Now that they'd killed someone, things would get slightly more dicey. A patrol would be missed, depending on how long ago it was they'd checked in and what sort of schedule they were on for their next. If Morgan and Jubilee were lucky, that would be later rather then sooner but they had to work as if it were sooner.
Between the two of them, it didn't take them long to get the bodies stowed, and they were off again, down the corridor and then around the corner where they were met with another door that seemed to lead to another set of stairs that led down into darkness.
"I'm getting pretty damn sick of stairs." Jubilee muttered, but headed downwards anyhow.
Morgan's nose wrinkled a bit in agreement with Jubilee's sentiments. "How many flippin' basements do you need? 'We keep the extra ice box in the basement, then we keep the S&M dungeon in the sub-basement and in the sub-sub-basement are my diabolical plans for world domination?'" By the end she was muttering in a near grumbling tone. It was one thing to play the part of the villain, but a sub-basement? Really now?
There was a dim light coming from the next level down so the two women managed to get down the stairs without tripping, falling, tumbling or having to turn any lights on. Once down there they made sure there were no more persons patrolling before following the corridor at the foot of the stairs The corridor turned out to be rather short and ended abruptly in a ninety degree turn to the right. When Morgan followed Jubilee around the corner there was a rather unpleasant sight waiting for them.
"Merde!" Jean-Paul had quite clearly rubbed off on her. It was overwhelmingly appropriate as Morgan stared at the half dozen or so sleeping dogs. Dobermen, Rottweilers and Pit Bulls, exactly what one would think of immediately when presented with the phrase "violent attack dog." One dog raised it's head sleepily and sniffed at the air. Once it caught onto their scent its eyes opened. "Fuck," was all Morgan could say.
"Remy, looks like we've got a problem." she said the moment she heard his voice on the other end.
***
Gambit thumbed off the phone and put it back in his pocket. "Just for curiosity's sake, McLeish, I know that you've had to scale back the assassin work over the last few years. How are you funding your semi-retirement?" He said with a smile.
McLeish's expression didn't change much, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes as he replied."Och, this and that. I'm sure you know how it is - I maybe can't kill so many people as I used to, but a smart man can always find some wee niche, some need to supply. Why d'you ask?"
"Underaged sex slaves." Gambit said flatly. "Dat's low work, even for a killer like you." His accent was back, and Remy turned to Bishop. "Jubilee and Ness have de information and de girls out. Remy say we kill dis fuck and burn de place to de ground."
To his credit, McLeish didn't bother with any further talk. He pushed his chair back and drew a large bladed knife in a single clean motion, yelling for his guards. The doors around the room opened, as hired guns that they were sure had been waiting for a command rushed in.
***
While Jubilee chatted with the Man In Charge Morgan had to figure out what to do with the dogs which were slowly waking. Waking, becoming alert, noticing their visitors and then growling. Once on their feet the hackles went up and Morgan knew this was going to end badly. They weren't guard dogs exactly. Guard dogs barked. Guard dogs alerted humans who dealt with the problem. Morgan glanced behind them while Jubilee spoke and saw the girls. Jesus, they were so young. And those dogs, they weren't just to keep the girls in.
A doberman lunged and Morgan turned to the side, taking a step backward as she did. Its teeth sank into her upper arm instead of her face thanks to that reaction. He got the hand holding the gun, her grip going just slack enough that the pistol wasn't currently of any use. "Mother fuckin--" a knife was pulled from a wrist sheath and Morgan buried the blade in the dog's body, sliding the metal up between the animal's ribs. It made a yelping noise as it let go of her arm, something which caused her to wince. While the doberman was injured, she'd missed the heart and now the others were advancing on her as well. "Hey, butterfly, how 'bout you get your sweet ass way the fuck back, yeah?"
The gun was adjusted in her hand so it was usable again. The first bullet went into the doberman's head. She tried to take down each of the canines before they could get to her or her companion but one sheathed its teeth in her calf before she could get the round meant for it off. The mercenary bit down on her lip hard to keep from yelling out. The pit bull remained attached to her leg, pulling and tugging, while she finished his comrades off. Her knife went into the back of his head where his spine entered the skull. The murderous dog let go and fell to the floor among the other fuzzy bodies.
"Fucking hate people like this owning dogs," she grumbled and spun on her good leg to face Jubilee. "You good?"
Jubilee flipped her phone closed as she broke off the conversation with Remy and took a moment to examine the situation. "Nice work." she noted, eyes taking in the dead dogs with only a small twitch downward of her lips. She didn't particularly like killing animals, but then she didn't particularly like killing anything, it was just what the job needed.
"I've got to grab the info from the server, you going to be good to look after the girls?" she asked, shrugging off the moment as her shoulders straightened and she strode to the door that led into the server room. "We're going to have company soon."
"Lovely," Morgan responded with faux enthusiasm. "I was hoping to make more friends. I'm a few short of a parcel." She looked at the girls in their cell, no, in their cage, and all her snark evaporated. Morgan was suddenly looking grave and she just nodded at Jubilee. "Get what you need, I'll cover you from this end." Morgan wouldn't assume there was no other way into that room, she just hoped there wasn't.
As she reloaded her gun, Morgan watched at the girls who were awake and staring at her. Hope swam in their eyes and it was heartbreaking, even for a big, heartless mercenary like Vanessa. "Hey sweetie," she reached through the bars and held her hand out to the girl closest to the door with her free hand. "What say we get you lot out of here?" The little girl held onto Vanessa's hand and the woman knew that they knew exactly what they needed to be saved from. She suspected they knew that Vanessa knew with stark clarity precisely what they'd be in for if left in that cage as well.
Jubilee pulled the door to the server open and then slipped her fingers around the two little hooks that would allow her to slide out the flat screen and keyboard. It appeared that whoever this guy was, he'd gotten someone good to do his computing work. The server was small, but looked fairly new and from the brand names on the side it was good tech.
She had a feeling that Doug should be here right now, but the man wasn't always going to be around, and she had to learn to do this sort of thing without him in her ear giving her instructions on what buttons to press.
Jubilee waited as the screen booted up, her fingers drumming impatiently on her thigh. It would have to be fucking Microsoft that the guy was using, one of the slowest most useless pieces of software she'd ever seen, give her a Macintosh any day. Finally, a small box appeared on screen and she pressed three buttons and then looked at the username/password screen with an intent expression.
This was the part she hated, trying to figure out how the fuck to get past the password encryption. She ducked around the edge of the rack, looking for the USB connector and then slipped a small thumb drive into the back. The hard drive seemed to whirr softly for a moment and then an alarm started to sound in the corridor outside.
"Fucking, FUCK!" she yelled, pulling the drive out and kicking the bottom of the rack with her foot in a fit of pique. She hadn't thought to check for security, Remy was going to fucking kill her.
"Um, we're about to have a _lot_ of company, I think." she yelled out to Morgan in the other room. "I'm going to have to slip the hard drive out, just keep them off, okay?"
With all the noise going on Morgan thought maybe "a lot of company" was going to turn out to be quite an understatement. She was in the process of picking the lock to the girls' cell when the butterfly had set the alarm off. The lock finally opened with a click and Morgan grinned. The door swung open on its own and the woman stood quickly and pulled a pistol back out. She gestured with one hand while she spoke because only two of the girls knew any English. "You stay together and you stay behind me. When me and butterfly," she nodded in the direction of the server room, "go you're coming with us, yeah?" One of the girls was translating, the other who understood nodded.
The boots thundered down the stairs and through the small corridor Morgan had come down with Jubilee not long ago. The advantage for Morgan was that the corridor was thin and it would force them to bottleneck, no matter how many there were. The first guy showed up and his eyes were on the dogs first. Morgan noticed not his expression but the fact that he wore a bulletproof vest. When he looked up at her she grinned. Vests didn't do any good if a person could shoot you in the head. "Close your eyes, girls." She pulled the trigger and Morgan watched the guy's left eye explode.
***
Without his pistol, Bishop had to resort to quick thinking and fast feet. While McLeish drew his knife, the big man dropped his act and darted over, gripping the wrist of the knife hand and positioning the new body shield between the guards and himself. A huge fist plowed into the White Ghost's ribs, more to prevent a full force stab then to try to end the fight. The former cop was a strong believer in what he was told in the academy, if a knife comes out prepare to be cut.
"Watch him!" Remy shouted, as he pivoted and drove a charged coin through one of the guards throats. One tried to gun him down, but the Cajun had been moving even as the gun was coming up, and the burst ripped through the chair a second too late. Remy was already on the man, lashing out with a fist, breaking his cheekbone. He slammed the gun up, adding a nose to the injury, and drove the point of his elbow into the unprotected throat, killing him with a wet crunch.
McLeish moved like a snake, despite his age, and slammed his foot into Bishop's instep. The momentary flash of pain allowed McLeish to pull back the other way, and drive his forehead into Bishop's nose. He slashed in tight motions with the knife, trying to force Bishop to back away, and allow him more room to fight.
Bishop didn't back away from the slashing knife. He kept his arms up and out to try to localize the slashing to his meaty arms. McLeish didn't have a problem fighting dirty and neither did this former street kid. During one of the slashes, with feet planted to grant strength to the cutting motion, the old man caught a kick directly to the groin followed by a blood slick grapple. Tying up his arms could save a life.
McLeish struggled in Bishop's grip, no match for the larger, younger man's strength, but devilishly cunning all the same. He fought against the hold, trying to clear enough room to bury his knife into Bishop's flesh, and finish the fight. Remy pulled the clip from the gun he'd wrestled away from the guard, and used a shoulder block to knock a pair of them back. A bullet creased his right arm, but LeBeau forced them back against the other guards trying to force their way inside. He tossed the charged clip into the centre of them, and kicked himself back just as the bullets and the case exploded like a bomb in the midst of them.
Screams filled the room from the mangled guards, who lay clutching at fragmented wounds in their legs and torsos. LeBeau ignored it, watching the first licks of fire starting from the explosion touch the dry wood and begin to engulf it. He looked back. "Bishop, dis place 'bout to go up. Finish up wit' McLeish."
The fire and explosion gave the mutant the edge he needed. He never fully released his charge and, while he wasn't good at absorbing heat or physical force, the explosion was just enough to give him the boost necessary for the only option at his disposal. He sunk his fingers deep into McLeish's lower back, the grip powerful enough to pierce skin and then crush bone. With all his strength, and a loud cry from both the men, Bishop crushed the base of the White Ghost's spine in his bare hand.
***
The main problem with rack servers is that you had to take the whole fucking thing with you if you couldn't get the information you wanted. It was basically just a rather large, flat hard drive. Which meant unscrewing it from the rack, and pulling it out. It was going to be bulky, and a pain in the ass to carry and she wouldn't be able to use her powers in case she wiped the server in the process.
In other words, situation normal when it came to her luck, but there wasn't time to descend into emo muppetitude, not with the gunfire coming from the other room.
"Just a few more seconds!" she called out, hoping that Morgan was doing okay.
"Aye, love," was all the response Morgan called back. The little girls were huddled in a group behind her and every time Morgan shifted she could feel them shuffling behind her to follow. At least they weren't getting in the way or crying. Unable to look back to check, she hoped they weren't watching what was going on, but surely someone had to be in order to follow her so closely. Either that or someone was a mutant, perhaps.
There were two human bodies laying on some of the canine bodies and more boots were coming. Morgan tried to listen to count but they were muddled together. She guessed maybe a dozen and hoped she was exaggerating. The next pair came into Morgan's view, but this time their reaction speed was quicker. They saw the boots of their fallen and their guns were up. The blue mercenary had the advantage in that her gun had just been waiting for them. She pulled the trigger but the first guy moved just enough that it was his cheek that blew off. A quick follow up tore a hole through his throat and he was down. The other half of the pair managed to graze her arm with a bullet before she buried one in the center of his forehead.
Morgan shuffled to the left with the girls all following suit. The children had a hold of one another's hands and they followed whomever among them was their leader. Morgan ducked behind one side of the doorway that led from the hall to the room the cell was in. Fire opened into the room a moment later and the little girls finally began to cry.
***
McLeish flopped to the ground, twitching slightly, although his eyes had gone very wide and feral.
"Ye dead, Gambit. You hear me! I'm going to find you, hunt you down, an' kill ye slowly as I can make it last." His snarl was flecked with bloody foam, and Remy only gave him a quick glance.
"Non, you just going to burn to fuck here and die screaming, homme. Bishop, time to leave. De girls better be moving." The fire was already starting to spread, running in lines up the walls and billowing into the corridors. Remy didn't bother trying to find a door. Instead he hefted a chair, charged it purple, and slammed it into the wall. The explosion tore a wide hole in the wood and brick construction, and needed only a few blows from both men to widen enough to slip through.
They ignored the continuous stream of curses from McLeish on the ground, dropping out on to the wide veranda and down into the grass. A few men were outside, armed with rifles, but cards and bullets dispatched them before they knew they were in danger. They reached the jeep, and Remy looked at Bishop.
"Now, where de hell are de others?"
***
One of the screws had gotten stuck as Jubilee pulled each out in quick succession and she'd had to spend a few precious moments working it back in and out again, but finally she managed to slip the server out of the rack, tucking it under her arm and heading for the other room, just to duck and roll as bullets shot over her head.
She noticed Morgan and the girls pressed close to one side of the room and pushed herself sideways up against one of the walls. "How much ammo you got left?" she asked, holding the server under both arms. It was bulky, and heavy, not a good combination since it meant she couldn't just hold it under one arm. It was also way too big to just fit in a backpack, which might have been her first choice.
Morgan wiggled a hip at Jubilee. "A couple more clips, plus another three handguns. Should get us out just fine, but it might be tight." She was crouched down low near the ground and inched her head out from behind the corner of the wall so she could see where people were standing as the gunfire slowed and then stopped only to start up again once she was spotted. Morgan pulled back to safety in time and turned to loo at Jubilee and her load. "Jesus, butterfly, I thought you came for the bloody information, not the whole damn thing!" She shook her head and just silently swore to not ask questions.
When the gunfire stopped again Morgan side-stepped into view and fired off half her clip. The dull thud of falling bodied could be heard by those out of sight before she pulled back under cover. Instead of bothering to reload the clip Morgan holstered the gun and pulled out another one. "Bright ideas or are we just going to hope I've enough bullets to take them all out so we can run for it?"
Jubilee chewed at her bottom lip for a moment as she hiked the server higher on her chest to keep from dropping it. She didn't like using her abilities to kill, too many bad memories, and the chance that she'd suffer some sort of weird flashback was something she rarely liked to chance. It was why she'd been spending so much time learning other, more conventional ways to do the same thing.
There was no real choice now though, Morgan was right, they couldn't rely on her ammo holding out. She edged her way closer to the other woman, and placed the server at her feet.
"Take the server, and keep yourself and the girls here" Jubilee replied, moving forward to the door. Trails of plasma had already started to form around her arms and shoulders as she got far enough away from the computer. "I'm going to give our friends something to think about."
Morgan did not drop her gun when presented with the large, awkward bit of metal and plastic that was deposited at her feet like some strange sacrifice. She took it up under an arm, and while the extra foot of height she had on the other woman made it possible it was in no way comfortable or convenient. She nodded to Jubilee as she moved into place and Morgan backed up closer to the girls.
The only time Morgan had witnessed Jubilee use her powers at all was briefly in India when their Jeeps had been attacked. It wasn't anything like what she saw now, though. There were these spirals and lines of this thick, viscous looking liquid that she was sure wasn't liquid going up and down the younger woman's arms. Offensive powers, she thought to herself, are so messy.
"Alright, girls Auntie Butterfly is going to help us with the bad men so you all squeeze your eyes closed tight, yeah?" The arm which attached to the gun holding hand stretched out around them to keep them huddled up while Jubilee did whatever she was going to do. Morgan didn't think she wanted the little girls to see this.
Jubilee noted that the girls and Morgan were far enough away, and then held her hands up, letting spirals of multi-coloured sparks twist from her finger tips to form a wall only a few feet away from her. She continued to feed power out of her hands, adding to the wall bit by bit as sweat stood out on her forehead. It wasn't long before the plasma pulsed and sparked in the doorway to their room, singeing the edges as she pushed it out into the hall, growing as it went.
She was risking getting shot here, but she moved to the side of the door so she could see the hallway beyond. Their enemies had moved back as she pushed the plasma wall forward to fill the hallway, probably trying to figure out what the hell it was.
Jubilee ducked as several bullets fired in her direction, and swore as a bullet winged her left arm, it was instinctual though, a set of reactions pummeled into her muscles and bones by hours of training. Her mind was completely focused on controlling the wall, on building it larger and then on pushing it forward, gaining speed as she sent it down the corridor.
The first few men didn't seem to know what to make of it, but they tried to run too late and the wall passed over their bodies in a rush, melting clothing into flesh, and then flesh into bone as it went. Their screams were brief, cut off quickly as the wall seared their lungs and burnt anything they could have used to form sound.
The ones behind the first tried to run, some close to the stairs even managed to gain the top of the first flight, but the wall had split into two, one following and the other moving back down the hallway to make sure of the collapsed bodies within. It was lucky that Jubilee remembered the layout of the place. She had no special ability to see where her plasma was going, just to control it, to keep it and use it to burn, or to detonate it and use it blast through whatever was in her way.
Jubilee gagged slightly at the smell, but continued to push the plasma onward, only the slight shake in her fingers giving voice to just how much this was costing her to maintain.
Morgan was watching Jubilee because if for some reason one of those guys ended up being a mutant who could block the woman's powers the mercenary needed to be on top of shooting him until he couldn't move anymore. As it was it seemed no one was so lucky. Morgan made a face briefly but otherwise did not react outwardly. If she reacted any of the girls with their eyes cracked and trained upon her would as well. The half melted bodies of the men and dogs who were only partially in the way of Jubilee's plasma were grotesque. The smell, though. Morgan couldn't decide if it was worse than the smell that came if you just left the bodies or not. She was thinking all that burning flesh was worse. As was being reminded that burning humans tended to smell a bit like hot dogs.
The small trace of shaking, mostly in Jubilee's hands and lower arms, didn't escape Morgan's notice. She didn't comment, though. She had to assume the woman knew her limits and wouldn't push herself too far. Just in case Morgan cleared her throat on the pretense of it being the smell that caused her to make the noise.
Jubilee raised her eyebrows at the cough, but shook her head as she pulled the plasma back toward her, running it up her arms and then allowing it to dissipate in a serious of small fireworks around her body. Hopefully it would give the kids something else to concentrate on then the smell and the look of all those burnt bodies. She was certainly going to be seeing them in her dreams for several nights to come, and she made a note to see Sophia once they got back.
"Come on, let's get up those stairs before any more decide they want to play." Jubilee noted, the exhausted set of her shoulders giving voice to just how much that little display of power had cost her. She wasn't a thick set girl, and there hadn't really been the time to put on more then a minimum layer of fat since the time she'd been strapped into that weird battery. A burger, with everything and perhaps a bucket of chicken, that'd do the trick.
She squared her shoulders, aware that they didn't have time for her to rest, and gestured for Morgan to take point if she wanted. A gun right now was going to be much more use to them at the front, and Jubilee could watch their backs and make sure none of the girls got lost on their way out.
"C'mon girls, you stick close to me, don't touch anything and look at nothing but the back of the person in front of you, you hear me?" The two English speaking children started translating and a small hand latched onto the back of Morgan's belt a she walked past Jubilee and into the hall. It would have been lovely to have been able to hand the server back off to the tiny Chinese girl but her body language said she was drained of energy and lugging the metal and plastic object just would have made it worse for her. Morgan shifted it under her arm and trudged through the corridor.
The stench was thick, clinging to everything it touched. Morgan tried to get them all through the hall and up the stairs as quickly as possible but little legs didn't move as quickly as her own. She picked her pathway carefully, trying to avoid bodies or limbs that were cooling into melted puddles on the ground like some sick, plastic tableau though everything was flesh instead of plastic.
Jubilee waited till the last of the girls had left the room, and then followed after, her gloved hand trailing across the wall as she walked, just in case. It wouldn't do to completely collapse, not when they still had to fight their way out. She fished in the pocket of her pants, pulling out a power bar. Time to get a quick boost of energy, and get ready for whatever waited for them above.
***
The house was burning brightly as Remy caught sight of the women, with a cluster of young girls around them, leaving the side of the house. He gunned the engine and pulled the jeep around, Bishop following him in the girl's jeep he'd retrieved from down the road. Quickly, they loaded both their teammates and the girls in, pulling away from the house and the spreading flames.
"See," Remy said idly to Morgan as they reached the main road. "just a simple mission after all."
"I hate Africa." Remy said, for maybe the tenth time since they'd landed. The Cajun had been eloquent on the fact that there was no place to get killed as easily and as randomly as Africa, and the interconnected loyalties and feuds linked to layers of political, religious, tribal, and cultural attachments, along with all the normal motivations of poverty, violence, and power made it almost impossible to know who to trust. It was fitting, since the man they were going to talk to was someone that LeBeau had been very clear about not trusting.
"De assassins dat live long enough to get old end up damaged 'bout every way you can imagine. In my Gambit days, I met McLeish in a whorehouse in Morocco during a meeting between arms dealers dat both of us had contracts for. He liked de fact dat I had fun using de weapons dat dey sold most of to kill dem, and we agreed on a business relationship over a case of whiskey while using de corpses as footstools and end tables. He's clever, skilled, and completely amoral." Remy had underlined the potential dangers before the flight. "When we get to his place, don't forget dat for a second we dealing wit' someone who's learned to be very good at survival."
Now, he was sitting in a jeep with Bishop, at the entrance to the plantation that McLeish had used his money to carve out of the savannah. LeBeau lit another cigarette and stared at the house for a long moment before touching his cellphone's on button.
"Jubilee, Copycat, we going in five. Make sure you in position once we got through de front door." With that, they were committed. Remy blew out a plume of smoke and nodding to Bishop. "Guess it time to say salut, neh?" He said with a wry smile as they drove up to the house.
***
Jubilee glanced over at Morgan as she slid her cellphone closed, it was a pre-paid one, cheap and easy enough to ditch once the job was done. She slung the backpack at her feet up and over her back, adjusting the straps till they were comfortable.
"You ready?" she asked her companion, glancing at her briefly before switching her gaze back to the house. They were situated on a ridge several feet from the place, out of sight of the dwelling but close enough to get into position quickly.
Morgan nodded, her borrowed body that of a random woman she'd walked past when they'd first arrived. Look like the natives, it was the first thing she'd learned from Aleister when he'd brought her into the mercenary world. Blue just stands out too much, makes you a target and makes you easier to track down for retribution.
After checking various holsters with guns in them and then the various sheaths with knives in them she nodded again. Morgan's smile was much warmer and kinder in the face of the young, African woman than it would have been on her own. The effect was brought down a notch when a 9mm HK handgun was slid from its holster at her left hip and the safety was flipped off. "Lead the way, butterfly."
"Butterfly?" Jubilee asked, somewhat distractedly as she watched for Bishop and Remy to enter the house. It wouldn't take them long to get down the ridge and to the house once they did. There, that was their signal to move, and Jubilee jumped from the ridge, rolling as she hit the dirt and then jumping again to control her descent to the bottom.
She dusted herself off as she waited for Morgan to join her, and then headed low and quick for the back of the house, and their way in. She'd bypass the security alarm and pick the lock and then they'd be in, from there they just had to find the damn computer.
"Feeling more moth-like?" A moment after the words were out of her mouth the butterfly had fluttered away. Or jumped off their ridge, which ever. She followed her companion, albeit a bit less gracefully. She didn't generally need acrobatics quite so much when on a job, but obviously she should look into remedying her tumbling skills.
Her job was simple, Morgan was backup muscle along with backup gun. All else failed she could pick up a mimic and pretend she belonged there. She left the actual breaking in to Jubilee because while she could help the girl had it under control and someone had to watch their backs just in case anyway. Once they slipped into the house Morgan's eyes darted around. She looked for exits, which doubled as entrances for anyone coming out of the place. She had the blueprint of the house in her head and nodded toward the doorway that marked their planned pathway.
Jubilee waited for Morgan to give them the all clear before moving further in, her tread silent against the threadbare carpet covering the room, and then the hallway beyond. She had the training, but Morgan had far more operational experience then she, and if there was anything Remy and his friends had drilled into her, it was that you always took into account what the person with the most experience said, even if you had to think for yourself after that.
She could hear movement in some other part of the house, a muffled conversation as she moved toward the right most door at the end of the hallway. Her shoulders were tense as she tried the doorknob and found it locked, something they'd expected.
"This is the one." she breathed softly, her voice only just above a whisper.
Morgan let Jubilee move ahead of her, wanting to be able to cover the other woman's back and keep an eye out for anyone who might come across them. Her footfalls were silent as well and she kept her breathing even to help train her focus where she needed it to be. When Jubilee paused so did Morgan, though her eyes went everywhere except to focus on her.
After Jubilee spoke Morgan finally looked at her and then set a hand lightly between the younger woman's shoulder blades on her back. "Try not to tense," she whispered, her voice as soft as she could make it. "Slows reaction time." The she nodded to the locked knob as if asking Jubilee to pick it. The mercenary took up silent post, using her body to shield the other woman's from the direction they'd come from while constantly sweeping her eyes down the length of the hall back and forth.
Jubilee relaxed the tense concentration in her muscles with a mental effort, going over the mission in her mind in order to re-focus herself before she reached forward and picked the lock with ease. There hadn't been much in the way of security that they'd seen yet, and it was making her jumpy as hell. You didn't slack on security systems unless there was a reason to forgo them, and that worried her.
She pushed the door open and hung back for a second as she watched the darkness beyond, allowing her eyes to adjust to the change in light. Stairs stretched out before the door, leading downwards to a junction, and more darkness beyond it. Jubilee measured the odds in her head, and then made a decision, reaching up to flip on the light switch she'd noticed moments before.
"Let's hope that doesn't alert anyone, hey?" she said, heading down the stairs with careful steps.
***
"You know I don't understand your French slang." Bishop gave a smirk back and stepped from the car.
After a moment of pause, he asked, "So, I've been curious; with everything I've heard about this guy did you bring me just to piss him off? Or are you just getting me wound tight so that when he starts his racist bullshit I'll shoot him?" Bishop was half joking but clearly only half.
"Two reasons, really. First, if I'm in Africa looking for information about something mystical, McLeish is going to expect dere to be a bigger job involved, which putting a big, black partner in the chair beside me will deflect his thoughts down different directions. McLeish is de type dat he'll assume you're either de money for me, or my dupe. Either way, it builds value in his mind and he might deal straight wit' us." Remy crushed out his cigarette on the way up to the front door, and the guards standing there.
"De other reason is dat if it goes bad, you big enough for Remy to hide behind when de bullets start flying. Tactics, non?"
The Cajun flashed him a grin and looked at the guards. His accent completely disappeared as he spoke to them. "You. Piss off and get McLeish. Tell the fucking White Ghost that Gambit doesn't like being kept waiting like a damn door to door salesman."
On of the guards vanished inside for a few minutes, then returned, and gestured that they should go inside. The house was cool and dark, spacious and well appointed, but badly lit.
A voice called from further back in the house. "Gambit can bloody well learn to wait for an old man. Come on through and have a drink with me."
They walked through to find a grey haired old man sitting at a large round table in the kitchen, peeling an orange with a knife. There was a bottle and three glasses on the table in front of him.
"I see that your hospitality hasn't changed, you old bastard." It was odd hearing the neutral American accent from LeBeau. A voice so common that you wouldn't even look up at the owner if it asked you to pass the salt during lunch at a deli counter. "Bishop, this is McLeish, scourge of every tiny warlord or pushy aid politico in Africa. McLeish, this is Bishop. He's the money."
Bishop didn't wait for invitation. He poured himself a glass of liquor, just slightly too full, and found what was clearly the best seat, not based on tactics but comfort. If he was going to be the money he had to play it and that meant not waiting for anyone and taking the best for yourself. He even barely acknowledged the man's presence, other then glancing to him before evaluating all the possessions in the room critically from his seat. "This must be where crap comes to die."
"Aye, the money maybe, but not the manners, I see." McLeish poured drinks for himself and Gambit, sliding one across the table to the other man. "You told him what they call me round here?"
"The White Ghost? Yeah, I did." Gambit took a sip from the drink and regarded the old man levelly. "Even mentioned that job we did together in Gabon ten years back. Bishop has a problem of the... unusual nature, and we need a little information to make sense of the whole thing. Trouble is, McLeish, is that he doesn't really believe 'the White Ghost' stories are anything but bullshit and self-promotion." Gambit turned in his chair to Bishop. "Isn't that right?"
After a drink from his glass, Bishop nodded. "Africa has been the place where people have been coming for hundreds of years to make a quick buck and exploit gullible locals." He laughed and set down his glass. "'The White Ghost' makes you sound ridiculous. I half expected to see you draped in a sheet with holes cut in it. However, Gambit says that you can do this fairly simple task for me and the village idiots sound like they'll let you."
Gambit laughed sharply before sipping his drink again. "I figured that you'd appreciate telling him about your work, McLeish."
McLeish fixed Bishop with a stare, his eyes so pale as to be very nearly as grey as his hair, no mirth at all in his expression.
"I'm nearly sixty years old, son. I killed ma first man three days after me thirteenth birthday. And I've killed aroond five hundred and fifty people in ma lifetime. When ye work it out, I reckon I've killed about 12 people a year, which is no exactly tryin' hard. Because when I do kill...when I kill, och but it's a beautiful thing."
He leant back in his chair, and sipped his drink.
"See, if I like a man, if he's a decent man who's done no more than make one mistake to get me sent to him, then I'll put a single, big bullet right here." he tapped his own forehead "For there's no point in a man like that dying unpleasantly. If a murderer has no respect, he's no better than a greedy animal, killin' more than it can eat. And me, I'm exact. I'm a man wi' class. Forty seven years I've been walking this earth with murder in ma hands and in ma mind. And I bloody love it."
McLeish smiled very widely.
"And round here, they know that. They know I'm not just one more pale figure, passing through. No, I'm the white bloody ghost to them."
"And that's why I want to hire you." Bishop sighed a bit. "Not for the beauty and resisting animal urges shit you're pitching. Because the locals think you're something special and unique to be feared and that's worth something. Now, you're you're done jerking yourself off can we get on with this?" It was a master stall plan. Someone with the self image this 'White Ghost' had would be compelled to assert even more that he was special and as long as money was on the table that would keep things from turning violent.
"Careful, Bishop. McLeish likes money, but it's not the only thing in life. After all, artistry deserves some respect." Gambit cautioned Bishop, secretly pleased with the other man. The former cop exuded entitled arrogance, almost a perfect copy of a hundred bastards that Gambit had taken jobs from, and likely McLeish as well. He very well might be planning to kill them, but there was no way that McLeish wouldn't believe that they were anything other than what they said.
"No no, by all means, let's 'get on with this'. Let's hear what you've come disturbing my peace and quiet for, and I'll decide if it's anything I'm interested in." McLeish's tone was light but there was a speculative look in his eyes as he looked at Bishop.
"Nothing more unusual than someone that needs to be gone. Gambit has the file. You two have worked together before and I can't be bothered with menial detail work. I'm just here to make sure it gets done otherwise I'm at the whim of incompetence and I pay very well so I can avoid that exact...plague." Bishop searched for the word to insist that failure was unacceptable. Any rich person who hadn't actually earned their money would abhor any failure of their underlings fitting the world to their desires and he had to mimic that perfectly. It was one of the most important features of his cover.
***
It just didn't seem possible that things were this easy, and the sheer lack of resistance or guards was making her feel increasingly jumpy as hell. Where was everyone?
"Way to doom us, butterfly," Morgan muttered. "Stay on guard, I don't like this." She shared her companion's concerns about the lack of security. If this guy had as much to hide as he apparently did just disabling the security alarm should have triggered something somehow. She forced herself to relax, having tensed up once Jubilee had flipped on the stupid light switch.
Morgan descended the stairs with her back pressed against the cold concrete that formed the wall on one side of them. She heard something. She wasn't sure what it was but she spun and reached out to Jubilee with her left hand, grabbing her by the shirt to still her. "Shh." Morgan needed to listen. The gun in her hand was pointed over Jubilee's shoulders to the space at the bottom of the stairs. "Hear that?"
Jubilee stilled at Morgan's touch, and then listened carefully as the other woman noted the sound. Now that she wasn't moving, she could hear something, a sort of clacking sound, like a boot heel on concrete, and it was more then one.
"Two of them, from the sound of it, probably a patrol. We're going to need to kill them, and quietly too." Jubilee noted, eying the gun that Morgan held for a second as she listened for more guards. From the looks of it, at least her companion had remembered to bring the silencer.
She pulled out the blackjack from her pocket and gripped it in one palm before pulling a rather serious looking knife from the sheathe at her belt, it's blade was smooth, without any serrated edges that might catch in a body. Knock them down from behind when possible, and then slit their throat. She could feel the prickling of sweat on her back already, but she ignored it as she always did. It didn't matter if you liked the job at hand, it simply had to be done and that was that. Nice people wouldn't be working for scum like Gambit's old friend anyhow.
***
"Easy enough, McLeish. We're looking for some information." Gambit slid the file across the table to the older man. "I assume you're still running your sideline in information about the occult in Africa? We've got a target that's mixed up in it somehow, and I think it's a perfect way to get to them. But I need some more details."
McLeish picked the file up, and flipped through it, while sipping his whiskey.
"Mmmmm. And when you say this man is the money, just how much money are we talking, here? This is a popular man you're looking for..."
"I have more than enough to pay any reasonable price you might ask. I've also been given enough information on your past cases to know what you really think is reasonable." Bishop made it clear that money wasn't a problem but also that he wasn't stupid enough to pay any ridiculous price asked. "Reputation is only worth so much and a job complete is a job complete, no matter who's doing it. You're getting the offer because you're the most likely to get it done."
"See McLeish? Nice and simple." Gambit smirked at him. "Monona Konmlan. Not the target, but she's deep in the magical community in Africa, and she's the connection to my target. I'll bring you the head as a bonus if you want. I only need a tongue to complete my collection."
McLeish closed the file with a snap.
"Aye, but your big black money man here seems terrible reluctant to tell me exactly how much she's worth to ye. So unless he's going to show a wee bit of spine, and deal with me like a grown man, it sounds to me like she's not worth as much to the pair you as she is to some other people I know."
Bishop laughed at the insults. "I thought a professional like you would give a cost before you'd resort to calling people names. Afraid that if you give your price people won't pay it or do you like to know what you're worth? I've come prepared to put your worth at a quarter million." He knew that it wasn't much to give someone with his reputation but the idea was to haggle up and give their other team more time.
"Och, I know just what I'm worth, son. But it turns out that you don't, and at my age, I've no interest in playing games with amateurs like you, no matter who you're friends with." He turned to Gambit. "You're welcome to come back and have a drink with me whenever you're passing, but next time, don't bother bringing any bloody children with you."
"Now McLeish--" Gambit started, and paused as his cell phone went off. "Just a sec." He put the phone to his ear.
***
While Jubilee may have needed to remind herself the job needed doing, Morgan didn't. Old hat, she thought as she shifted to the other side of the stair she stood on. "I want you behind me," she told the other woman without apology. Her voice wasn't harsh but she wanted any guns aimed at herself because Jubilee was the only one of them with the ability to surprise them with her attack if need be. After all, her mutation could be used if really necessary.
Silently, Morgan crept down a few stairs and slid in front of Jubilee. There was room on her right for Jubilee to get around if need be but the quicker this was done the less ruckus would be raised and the less attention they'd draw. She crouched down a little as the footsteps came closer, then paused. Two men suddenly jumped into view at the foot of the stairs. They had guns raised and pointed in the general direction of the women but they obviously hadn't had time to aim properly at their targets yet.
While the men were focusing Morgan pulled her trigger. A bullet buried itself in the forehead of one of the men and burst out the back of his skull. A second later the same happened to his companion. The bodies laid motionless on the floor but Morgan put up a hand to keep Jubilee still and silent. She wanted to be sure no one else was coming or had seen before they moved.
Jubilee kept back, waiting till it was obvious that this had been a simple patrol, and no others were likely to come, at least for the moment. Jubilee slipped past her companion and opened the door to the room on their right. "Help me pull them in here, it should keep anyone from really searching for us, at least for now."
Now that they'd killed someone, things would get slightly more dicey. A patrol would be missed, depending on how long ago it was they'd checked in and what sort of schedule they were on for their next. If Morgan and Jubilee were lucky, that would be later rather then sooner but they had to work as if it were sooner.
Between the two of them, it didn't take them long to get the bodies stowed, and they were off again, down the corridor and then around the corner where they were met with another door that seemed to lead to another set of stairs that led down into darkness.
"I'm getting pretty damn sick of stairs." Jubilee muttered, but headed downwards anyhow.
Morgan's nose wrinkled a bit in agreement with Jubilee's sentiments. "How many flippin' basements do you need? 'We keep the extra ice box in the basement, then we keep the S&M dungeon in the sub-basement and in the sub-sub-basement are my diabolical plans for world domination?'" By the end she was muttering in a near grumbling tone. It was one thing to play the part of the villain, but a sub-basement? Really now?
There was a dim light coming from the next level down so the two women managed to get down the stairs without tripping, falling, tumbling or having to turn any lights on. Once down there they made sure there were no more persons patrolling before following the corridor at the foot of the stairs The corridor turned out to be rather short and ended abruptly in a ninety degree turn to the right. When Morgan followed Jubilee around the corner there was a rather unpleasant sight waiting for them.
"Merde!" Jean-Paul had quite clearly rubbed off on her. It was overwhelmingly appropriate as Morgan stared at the half dozen or so sleeping dogs. Dobermen, Rottweilers and Pit Bulls, exactly what one would think of immediately when presented with the phrase "violent attack dog." One dog raised it's head sleepily and sniffed at the air. Once it caught onto their scent its eyes opened. "Fuck," was all Morgan could say.
"Remy, looks like we've got a problem." she said the moment she heard his voice on the other end.
***
Gambit thumbed off the phone and put it back in his pocket. "Just for curiosity's sake, McLeish, I know that you've had to scale back the assassin work over the last few years. How are you funding your semi-retirement?" He said with a smile.
McLeish's expression didn't change much, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes as he replied."Och, this and that. I'm sure you know how it is - I maybe can't kill so many people as I used to, but a smart man can always find some wee niche, some need to supply. Why d'you ask?"
"Underaged sex slaves." Gambit said flatly. "Dat's low work, even for a killer like you." His accent was back, and Remy turned to Bishop. "Jubilee and Ness have de information and de girls out. Remy say we kill dis fuck and burn de place to de ground."
To his credit, McLeish didn't bother with any further talk. He pushed his chair back and drew a large bladed knife in a single clean motion, yelling for his guards. The doors around the room opened, as hired guns that they were sure had been waiting for a command rushed in.
***
While Jubilee chatted with the Man In Charge Morgan had to figure out what to do with the dogs which were slowly waking. Waking, becoming alert, noticing their visitors and then growling. Once on their feet the hackles went up and Morgan knew this was going to end badly. They weren't guard dogs exactly. Guard dogs barked. Guard dogs alerted humans who dealt with the problem. Morgan glanced behind them while Jubilee spoke and saw the girls. Jesus, they were so young. And those dogs, they weren't just to keep the girls in.
A doberman lunged and Morgan turned to the side, taking a step backward as she did. Its teeth sank into her upper arm instead of her face thanks to that reaction. He got the hand holding the gun, her grip going just slack enough that the pistol wasn't currently of any use. "Mother fuckin--" a knife was pulled from a wrist sheath and Morgan buried the blade in the dog's body, sliding the metal up between the animal's ribs. It made a yelping noise as it let go of her arm, something which caused her to wince. While the doberman was injured, she'd missed the heart and now the others were advancing on her as well. "Hey, butterfly, how 'bout you get your sweet ass way the fuck back, yeah?"
The gun was adjusted in her hand so it was usable again. The first bullet went into the doberman's head. She tried to take down each of the canines before they could get to her or her companion but one sheathed its teeth in her calf before she could get the round meant for it off. The mercenary bit down on her lip hard to keep from yelling out. The pit bull remained attached to her leg, pulling and tugging, while she finished his comrades off. Her knife went into the back of his head where his spine entered the skull. The murderous dog let go and fell to the floor among the other fuzzy bodies.
"Fucking hate people like this owning dogs," she grumbled and spun on her good leg to face Jubilee. "You good?"
Jubilee flipped her phone closed as she broke off the conversation with Remy and took a moment to examine the situation. "Nice work." she noted, eyes taking in the dead dogs with only a small twitch downward of her lips. She didn't particularly like killing animals, but then she didn't particularly like killing anything, it was just what the job needed.
"I've got to grab the info from the server, you going to be good to look after the girls?" she asked, shrugging off the moment as her shoulders straightened and she strode to the door that led into the server room. "We're going to have company soon."
"Lovely," Morgan responded with faux enthusiasm. "I was hoping to make more friends. I'm a few short of a parcel." She looked at the girls in their cell, no, in their cage, and all her snark evaporated. Morgan was suddenly looking grave and she just nodded at Jubilee. "Get what you need, I'll cover you from this end." Morgan wouldn't assume there was no other way into that room, she just hoped there wasn't.
As she reloaded her gun, Morgan watched at the girls who were awake and staring at her. Hope swam in their eyes and it was heartbreaking, even for a big, heartless mercenary like Vanessa. "Hey sweetie," she reached through the bars and held her hand out to the girl closest to the door with her free hand. "What say we get you lot out of here?" The little girl held onto Vanessa's hand and the woman knew that they knew exactly what they needed to be saved from. She suspected they knew that Vanessa knew with stark clarity precisely what they'd be in for if left in that cage as well.
Jubilee pulled the door to the server open and then slipped her fingers around the two little hooks that would allow her to slide out the flat screen and keyboard. It appeared that whoever this guy was, he'd gotten someone good to do his computing work. The server was small, but looked fairly new and from the brand names on the side it was good tech.
She had a feeling that Doug should be here right now, but the man wasn't always going to be around, and she had to learn to do this sort of thing without him in her ear giving her instructions on what buttons to press.
Jubilee waited as the screen booted up, her fingers drumming impatiently on her thigh. It would have to be fucking Microsoft that the guy was using, one of the slowest most useless pieces of software she'd ever seen, give her a Macintosh any day. Finally, a small box appeared on screen and she pressed three buttons and then looked at the username/password screen with an intent expression.
This was the part she hated, trying to figure out how the fuck to get past the password encryption. She ducked around the edge of the rack, looking for the USB connector and then slipped a small thumb drive into the back. The hard drive seemed to whirr softly for a moment and then an alarm started to sound in the corridor outside.
"Fucking, FUCK!" she yelled, pulling the drive out and kicking the bottom of the rack with her foot in a fit of pique. She hadn't thought to check for security, Remy was going to fucking kill her.
"Um, we're about to have a _lot_ of company, I think." she yelled out to Morgan in the other room. "I'm going to have to slip the hard drive out, just keep them off, okay?"
With all the noise going on Morgan thought maybe "a lot of company" was going to turn out to be quite an understatement. She was in the process of picking the lock to the girls' cell when the butterfly had set the alarm off. The lock finally opened with a click and Morgan grinned. The door swung open on its own and the woman stood quickly and pulled a pistol back out. She gestured with one hand while she spoke because only two of the girls knew any English. "You stay together and you stay behind me. When me and butterfly," she nodded in the direction of the server room, "go you're coming with us, yeah?" One of the girls was translating, the other who understood nodded.
The boots thundered down the stairs and through the small corridor Morgan had come down with Jubilee not long ago. The advantage for Morgan was that the corridor was thin and it would force them to bottleneck, no matter how many there were. The first guy showed up and his eyes were on the dogs first. Morgan noticed not his expression but the fact that he wore a bulletproof vest. When he looked up at her she grinned. Vests didn't do any good if a person could shoot you in the head. "Close your eyes, girls." She pulled the trigger and Morgan watched the guy's left eye explode.
***
Without his pistol, Bishop had to resort to quick thinking and fast feet. While McLeish drew his knife, the big man dropped his act and darted over, gripping the wrist of the knife hand and positioning the new body shield between the guards and himself. A huge fist plowed into the White Ghost's ribs, more to prevent a full force stab then to try to end the fight. The former cop was a strong believer in what he was told in the academy, if a knife comes out prepare to be cut.
"Watch him!" Remy shouted, as he pivoted and drove a charged coin through one of the guards throats. One tried to gun him down, but the Cajun had been moving even as the gun was coming up, and the burst ripped through the chair a second too late. Remy was already on the man, lashing out with a fist, breaking his cheekbone. He slammed the gun up, adding a nose to the injury, and drove the point of his elbow into the unprotected throat, killing him with a wet crunch.
McLeish moved like a snake, despite his age, and slammed his foot into Bishop's instep. The momentary flash of pain allowed McLeish to pull back the other way, and drive his forehead into Bishop's nose. He slashed in tight motions with the knife, trying to force Bishop to back away, and allow him more room to fight.
Bishop didn't back away from the slashing knife. He kept his arms up and out to try to localize the slashing to his meaty arms. McLeish didn't have a problem fighting dirty and neither did this former street kid. During one of the slashes, with feet planted to grant strength to the cutting motion, the old man caught a kick directly to the groin followed by a blood slick grapple. Tying up his arms could save a life.
McLeish struggled in Bishop's grip, no match for the larger, younger man's strength, but devilishly cunning all the same. He fought against the hold, trying to clear enough room to bury his knife into Bishop's flesh, and finish the fight. Remy pulled the clip from the gun he'd wrestled away from the guard, and used a shoulder block to knock a pair of them back. A bullet creased his right arm, but LeBeau forced them back against the other guards trying to force their way inside. He tossed the charged clip into the centre of them, and kicked himself back just as the bullets and the case exploded like a bomb in the midst of them.
Screams filled the room from the mangled guards, who lay clutching at fragmented wounds in their legs and torsos. LeBeau ignored it, watching the first licks of fire starting from the explosion touch the dry wood and begin to engulf it. He looked back. "Bishop, dis place 'bout to go up. Finish up wit' McLeish."
The fire and explosion gave the mutant the edge he needed. He never fully released his charge and, while he wasn't good at absorbing heat or physical force, the explosion was just enough to give him the boost necessary for the only option at his disposal. He sunk his fingers deep into McLeish's lower back, the grip powerful enough to pierce skin and then crush bone. With all his strength, and a loud cry from both the men, Bishop crushed the base of the White Ghost's spine in his bare hand.
***
The main problem with rack servers is that you had to take the whole fucking thing with you if you couldn't get the information you wanted. It was basically just a rather large, flat hard drive. Which meant unscrewing it from the rack, and pulling it out. It was going to be bulky, and a pain in the ass to carry and she wouldn't be able to use her powers in case she wiped the server in the process.
In other words, situation normal when it came to her luck, but there wasn't time to descend into emo muppetitude, not with the gunfire coming from the other room.
"Just a few more seconds!" she called out, hoping that Morgan was doing okay.
"Aye, love," was all the response Morgan called back. The little girls were huddled in a group behind her and every time Morgan shifted she could feel them shuffling behind her to follow. At least they weren't getting in the way or crying. Unable to look back to check, she hoped they weren't watching what was going on, but surely someone had to be in order to follow her so closely. Either that or someone was a mutant, perhaps.
There were two human bodies laying on some of the canine bodies and more boots were coming. Morgan tried to listen to count but they were muddled together. She guessed maybe a dozen and hoped she was exaggerating. The next pair came into Morgan's view, but this time their reaction speed was quicker. They saw the boots of their fallen and their guns were up. The blue mercenary had the advantage in that her gun had just been waiting for them. She pulled the trigger but the first guy moved just enough that it was his cheek that blew off. A quick follow up tore a hole through his throat and he was down. The other half of the pair managed to graze her arm with a bullet before she buried one in the center of his forehead.
Morgan shuffled to the left with the girls all following suit. The children had a hold of one another's hands and they followed whomever among them was their leader. Morgan ducked behind one side of the doorway that led from the hall to the room the cell was in. Fire opened into the room a moment later and the little girls finally began to cry.
***
McLeish flopped to the ground, twitching slightly, although his eyes had gone very wide and feral.
"Ye dead, Gambit. You hear me! I'm going to find you, hunt you down, an' kill ye slowly as I can make it last." His snarl was flecked with bloody foam, and Remy only gave him a quick glance.
"Non, you just going to burn to fuck here and die screaming, homme. Bishop, time to leave. De girls better be moving." The fire was already starting to spread, running in lines up the walls and billowing into the corridors. Remy didn't bother trying to find a door. Instead he hefted a chair, charged it purple, and slammed it into the wall. The explosion tore a wide hole in the wood and brick construction, and needed only a few blows from both men to widen enough to slip through.
They ignored the continuous stream of curses from McLeish on the ground, dropping out on to the wide veranda and down into the grass. A few men were outside, armed with rifles, but cards and bullets dispatched them before they knew they were in danger. They reached the jeep, and Remy looked at Bishop.
"Now, where de hell are de others?"
***
One of the screws had gotten stuck as Jubilee pulled each out in quick succession and she'd had to spend a few precious moments working it back in and out again, but finally she managed to slip the server out of the rack, tucking it under her arm and heading for the other room, just to duck and roll as bullets shot over her head.
She noticed Morgan and the girls pressed close to one side of the room and pushed herself sideways up against one of the walls. "How much ammo you got left?" she asked, holding the server under both arms. It was bulky, and heavy, not a good combination since it meant she couldn't just hold it under one arm. It was also way too big to just fit in a backpack, which might have been her first choice.
Morgan wiggled a hip at Jubilee. "A couple more clips, plus another three handguns. Should get us out just fine, but it might be tight." She was crouched down low near the ground and inched her head out from behind the corner of the wall so she could see where people were standing as the gunfire slowed and then stopped only to start up again once she was spotted. Morgan pulled back to safety in time and turned to loo at Jubilee and her load. "Jesus, butterfly, I thought you came for the bloody information, not the whole damn thing!" She shook her head and just silently swore to not ask questions.
When the gunfire stopped again Morgan side-stepped into view and fired off half her clip. The dull thud of falling bodied could be heard by those out of sight before she pulled back under cover. Instead of bothering to reload the clip Morgan holstered the gun and pulled out another one. "Bright ideas or are we just going to hope I've enough bullets to take them all out so we can run for it?"
Jubilee chewed at her bottom lip for a moment as she hiked the server higher on her chest to keep from dropping it. She didn't like using her abilities to kill, too many bad memories, and the chance that she'd suffer some sort of weird flashback was something she rarely liked to chance. It was why she'd been spending so much time learning other, more conventional ways to do the same thing.
There was no real choice now though, Morgan was right, they couldn't rely on her ammo holding out. She edged her way closer to the other woman, and placed the server at her feet.
"Take the server, and keep yourself and the girls here" Jubilee replied, moving forward to the door. Trails of plasma had already started to form around her arms and shoulders as she got far enough away from the computer. "I'm going to give our friends something to think about."
Morgan did not drop her gun when presented with the large, awkward bit of metal and plastic that was deposited at her feet like some strange sacrifice. She took it up under an arm, and while the extra foot of height she had on the other woman made it possible it was in no way comfortable or convenient. She nodded to Jubilee as she moved into place and Morgan backed up closer to the girls.
The only time Morgan had witnessed Jubilee use her powers at all was briefly in India when their Jeeps had been attacked. It wasn't anything like what she saw now, though. There were these spirals and lines of this thick, viscous looking liquid that she was sure wasn't liquid going up and down the younger woman's arms. Offensive powers, she thought to herself, are so messy.
"Alright, girls Auntie Butterfly is going to help us with the bad men so you all squeeze your eyes closed tight, yeah?" The arm which attached to the gun holding hand stretched out around them to keep them huddled up while Jubilee did whatever she was going to do. Morgan didn't think she wanted the little girls to see this.
Jubilee noted that the girls and Morgan were far enough away, and then held her hands up, letting spirals of multi-coloured sparks twist from her finger tips to form a wall only a few feet away from her. She continued to feed power out of her hands, adding to the wall bit by bit as sweat stood out on her forehead. It wasn't long before the plasma pulsed and sparked in the doorway to their room, singeing the edges as she pushed it out into the hall, growing as it went.
She was risking getting shot here, but she moved to the side of the door so she could see the hallway beyond. Their enemies had moved back as she pushed the plasma wall forward to fill the hallway, probably trying to figure out what the hell it was.
Jubilee ducked as several bullets fired in her direction, and swore as a bullet winged her left arm, it was instinctual though, a set of reactions pummeled into her muscles and bones by hours of training. Her mind was completely focused on controlling the wall, on building it larger and then on pushing it forward, gaining speed as she sent it down the corridor.
The first few men didn't seem to know what to make of it, but they tried to run too late and the wall passed over their bodies in a rush, melting clothing into flesh, and then flesh into bone as it went. Their screams were brief, cut off quickly as the wall seared their lungs and burnt anything they could have used to form sound.
The ones behind the first tried to run, some close to the stairs even managed to gain the top of the first flight, but the wall had split into two, one following and the other moving back down the hallway to make sure of the collapsed bodies within. It was lucky that Jubilee remembered the layout of the place. She had no special ability to see where her plasma was going, just to control it, to keep it and use it to burn, or to detonate it and use it blast through whatever was in her way.
Jubilee gagged slightly at the smell, but continued to push the plasma onward, only the slight shake in her fingers giving voice to just how much this was costing her to maintain.
Morgan was watching Jubilee because if for some reason one of those guys ended up being a mutant who could block the woman's powers the mercenary needed to be on top of shooting him until he couldn't move anymore. As it was it seemed no one was so lucky. Morgan made a face briefly but otherwise did not react outwardly. If she reacted any of the girls with their eyes cracked and trained upon her would as well. The half melted bodies of the men and dogs who were only partially in the way of Jubilee's plasma were grotesque. The smell, though. Morgan couldn't decide if it was worse than the smell that came if you just left the bodies or not. She was thinking all that burning flesh was worse. As was being reminded that burning humans tended to smell a bit like hot dogs.
The small trace of shaking, mostly in Jubilee's hands and lower arms, didn't escape Morgan's notice. She didn't comment, though. She had to assume the woman knew her limits and wouldn't push herself too far. Just in case Morgan cleared her throat on the pretense of it being the smell that caused her to make the noise.
Jubilee raised her eyebrows at the cough, but shook her head as she pulled the plasma back toward her, running it up her arms and then allowing it to dissipate in a serious of small fireworks around her body. Hopefully it would give the kids something else to concentrate on then the smell and the look of all those burnt bodies. She was certainly going to be seeing them in her dreams for several nights to come, and she made a note to see Sophia once they got back.
"Come on, let's get up those stairs before any more decide they want to play." Jubilee noted, the exhausted set of her shoulders giving voice to just how much that little display of power had cost her. She wasn't a thick set girl, and there hadn't really been the time to put on more then a minimum layer of fat since the time she'd been strapped into that weird battery. A burger, with everything and perhaps a bucket of chicken, that'd do the trick.
She squared her shoulders, aware that they didn't have time for her to rest, and gestured for Morgan to take point if she wanted. A gun right now was going to be much more use to them at the front, and Jubilee could watch their backs and make sure none of the girls got lost on their way out.
"C'mon girls, you stick close to me, don't touch anything and look at nothing but the back of the person in front of you, you hear me?" The two English speaking children started translating and a small hand latched onto the back of Morgan's belt a she walked past Jubilee and into the hall. It would have been lovely to have been able to hand the server back off to the tiny Chinese girl but her body language said she was drained of energy and lugging the metal and plastic object just would have made it worse for her. Morgan shifted it under her arm and trudged through the corridor.
The stench was thick, clinging to everything it touched. Morgan tried to get them all through the hall and up the stairs as quickly as possible but little legs didn't move as quickly as her own. She picked her pathway carefully, trying to avoid bodies or limbs that were cooling into melted puddles on the ground like some sick, plastic tableau though everything was flesh instead of plastic.
Jubilee waited till the last of the girls had left the room, and then followed after, her gloved hand trailing across the wall as she walked, just in case. It wouldn't do to completely collapse, not when they still had to fight their way out. She fished in the pocket of her pants, pulling out a power bar. Time to get a quick boost of energy, and get ready for whatever waited for them above.
***
The house was burning brightly as Remy caught sight of the women, with a cluster of young girls around them, leaving the side of the house. He gunned the engine and pulled the jeep around, Bishop following him in the girl's jeep he'd retrieved from down the road. Quickly, they loaded both their teammates and the girls in, pulling away from the house and the spreading flames.
"See," Remy said idly to Morgan as they reached the main road. "just a simple mission after all."