X-Men Mission: Roller Derby Queen

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

There is a surprise waiting for the X-Men at the tournament location.



Amarillo was already climbing towards ninety degrees, even in May. The old airfield hadn’t been used for commercial aircraft since the early years of the decade, but the massive hanger was still in relatively good repair and now thronged with people. Row after row of motorcycles were parked in cohorts on what had once been the landing strip, interspersed with the odd utility van or flatbed truck. On paper, the ‘festival’ was a bike club convention, organized to the point that they advertised proceeds from a memorabilia auction going to a local charity.

The cover was enhanced by a colony of large tents and carnival like stands selling food, clothes, tattoo and piercing services, and all manner of legal commercial activity. Their permits to sell alcohol had been properly obtained, and even the odd police officer wandered through the crowd. But each one of them was being subtly tailed by a biker with a cellphone. While the flyers mentioned open roller derby games during the day, but there was nothing about the real event in the evening. The bike gangs had done a surprisingly thorough job disguising an organized crime meeting under a biker festival that could have been one of any of the hundreds of real ones found across the United States.

Access to the hanger was carefully controlled by the gangs, and for the hundredth time, Garrison Kane wondered whether or not their cover was going to get them in. Kurt, Callisto and himself were clad in Secret Empire leathers, the lurid red and yellow lettering on the back contrasting oddly with Kurt’s colouring. Marius was wearing a different set of leathers, ones that Kane’s Interpol contacts assured him was a pan-European biker group that they believe had fingerprints on human trafficking and the sex trade. As they reached the hanger door, one of the bikers detached himself from a small group and put up his hand.

“Hang on. Who the fuck are you?”

Wordlessly, Kane pulled the ‘confirmation’ for the semis that the FBI had seized when they had taken down the Secret Empire and passed it over. The man looked at it, and then scrutinized them again. “Secret Empire, yeah?”

Callisto favoured him with her unfriendliest grin. She'd pierced her face for the occasion, studs through her cheeks and lip glinting in the blistering sunlight, and one side of her head was now buzz-cut down to a number 3. Her gaze was hidden behind a scuffed pair of aviators, though the scar that ran up across her right eye was still visible above and below.

"You need a large print copy?" she asked.

"Fuck you." He said off-handedly, more verbal punctuation than an actual insult. "Gotham, huh? I heard you guys had problems with the feds." At the sound of 'feds', a couple more of the bikers started to pay attention.

"Not any more," Callisto replied with another one of those cut-throat smiles. "What, you thought the Empire would just roll over for some suits?" She turned her head to unload some phlegm from her throat onto the ground. A little splashed on the biker's rather grimy looking boot.

"That remains to be seen, huh." He said, looking at his boot for a second before back to them. "What about you, blue man? You think you can just walk in here with a set of leathers and pretend that you're Secret Empire?"

Kurt looked at him, unmoved, then smiled with a flash of fangs. "Do you think you can say I am not? Perhaps you would like to repeat that."

"You think you want to rumble here, spook?" He said, flicking a look at the others. "What, you think your little girlfriend over there is going to bail you out?" He indicated Marius with a dismissive flick of his hand.

Marius' shrug was equally indifferent. "I am here because he asks me to meet this man Tidboldt," he said, his accent convincingly pitched to French. He tilted his head towards Kurt. "With my girlfriend goes my business."

"Don't talk to this low-life," Callisto directed at the men flanking her without looking at them, stepping a little closer to the biker with a disgusted curl of her lip, talking through her teeth, now, voice lowering a little. "Listen up, you dumb fuck: I don't much appreciate my men or my business partners being called bad names. Rumours have a habit of gettin' up speed and I don't much like having to explain myself, so how about you walk the fuck away before I turn your face into a smear on my boot, mm?"

The biker sized up Callisto for a long moment and then flicked his head towards the door. "You can go in." He waved back the others. "Secret Empire. They're on the list."

There was a long quiet moment as they passed through, into the raucous interior of the hanger, and Garrison let out a breath. "So, that's biker security? A bunch of dick-waving to prove who's the alpha dog?"

"Preeeetty much," Callisto murmured with a dry smirk.

"Bow-bloody-wow," muttered Marius, only half paying attention. His yellow eyes slid around the hangar. "Fair few mutants in here, but so far no 'paths or ones likely to eavesdrop from a room away. What now?"

"I guess there's got to be some kind of sign-in or something, and we can bring in the girls." Kane was looking around, taking in the hanger's dimensions. It was dominated by the track and the raisers built around it for the finals. Still, one entire end hand been broken up into private rooms, presumably where business was going to take place. His eyes tracked the high ceiling.

"Kurt, you think that you could teleport up through the rafters without being seen? Get a birdseye view?"

Kurt followed his gaze up to the ceiling, considering, then nodded. "I would have to find somewhere to be unobserved for the jump, but I should be able to arrive unnoticed, that far up."

"Maybe get up there and scope out the layout? At least we'll have an idea what we're looking at." Kane asked, although he imagined the X-Man was already ahead of him with the idea. He was about to turn back to the others when he was approached by a man in a suit.

"Secret Empire?"

"What's it to you?"

"The sponsor would like to talk to you about your team. You can send them into the locker rooms on the far side when you're ready." They started to move but the man held up his hand. "Just you, sir. The others can met with you later."

Garrison exchanged a look with the other X-Men and nodded. If it was a trap, they could get out while Kane was being dealt with.

Watching as the man escorted Garrison out of earshot, Marius leaned towards Kurt and Callisto and murmured, "So, anyone else rememberin' the warning against discovery an' that 'will do their best to kill all of us' bit right about now?"

Callisto just shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets in a characteristic fashion. "Whatever."

Garrison considered several different scenarios, but he really had no choice but to follow. If he did something out of character, it could blow up the entire mission, and he doubted that they’d resort to something subtle if they knew that the Secret Empire and the Long Harm of the Law weren’t what they seemed. He walked up a flight of metal stairs, into a set of offices that had been converted into a kind of VIP viewing room over the track. There was an impressive computer lash up there, with a number of technicians of the decidedly not-biker image putting final touches in place. He was nudged towards the back, and through a door into a rear room.

Kane managed to keep from cursing outloud as the chair swiveled around, but only just.

“Hey there, Scooter. Did I ever mention that I have a near eidetic memory. Funny thing, that. Helps remember all kinds of little details, like schematics, numbers, read-outs, that sort of thing. Have a seat. No, really, sit, beefcake. I insist.” Jacob ‘Arcade’ Lowenstein gave him a wide, friendly grin, like a favourite uncle just showing up with a big wrapped present. “Now, you. The beard gets in the way a bit, but I remember you. Last time I saw you, I was on my little trip to Xavier’s, which is still kind of fuzzy the reason why to me, but during that time, there was a guy on the porch with an FBI windbreaker on. I remember thinking, wow, Xavier has some serious pull to have a Fed on tape just to impress someone. Well, motherfucker, I am suitably impressed.”

“I don’t know what—“

“Oh please, let’s not. Really, it’s just- well, it’s a little upsetting to me to be lied to. It shows a lack of respect, and really, at this point, haven’t I earned some?” Arcade said, and Garrison could hear the threat lying just under the words. “I know your face. And the blue one. And I’m just betting that I’m going to know half of the ‘Long Harm of the Law’, aren’t I? Yeah, I am. I know. So, the question is, why does the FBI have an agent with Xavier’s little X-Men group, and why are they at this little hellhole of a place competing in mutant roller derby, huh? Anytime.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s fun! And profitable. I agreed to finance this little championship, in return for broadcasting it to a select group of very wealthy punters at my casino. There’s easily twenty million down in bets already. But I’m the one asking the questions, sport. And, this is so very important to me, the only reasons I could possibly have for not outing you is if you tell me the truth.”

“I should take you in.”

“Charges would never stick, at least four US federal attorneys would be demanding your head, and the Attorney General is a personal friend. We like to golf together. Well, he likes to golf. I can’t stand it. Walking around in the sun all day waving sticks at little balls? Somethings just can’t be understood. So. Agent X-Man. What’s it going to be?”

Kane took a deep breath. They were screwed every which way he looked at it. Arcade was right; he’d never get charges to stick and it would blow the whole op. But Arcade was playing some kind of angle. One of the profiles that had been written on him in the files suggested that he was mostly interested in the game, whatever it might be, and it was the contest that he cared about, not the money. He’d even helped the X-Men out at points between trying to kill them. Something no doubt Lowenstein would love to hear was that Kane couldn’t see any other option but to take a gamble.

“This match is being used as a chance to set up an established Kick network between the biker gangs; agreed on territories, deals on shipping from where ever it gets made. It will increase the accessibility of the drug by a thousand-fold. The FBI pulled down the Secret Empire five days ago, including their mutant roller derby team, who was invited for this championship. The FBI has teams all around this location, just waiting more intel about the players involved before the come down and arrest everyone.” Kane explained.

“And you heroes are helping them out by making sure the competition goes on, keeping them here. Very nice. Kick’s a nasty drug, by the way. We had a girl, Katie, who was using six-seven months ago. Beaned up right before taking a client up to his room, and pulled him apart in bed by accident. Horrible stuff, never could get the blood out. Had to completely re-do the room.” Arcade said. His fingers tapped a manic staccato on the desk. “Mind you, I don’t really care what drugs they agree to funnel. But, I do want to see the games go on. It’s very big right now. Getting into Asia. Huge market potential. So, I’ll make you a bet. You’re a betting guy, Agent X-Man. If your girls win, I can provide you with an associate who you will offer immunity to in return for testifying about all of the players who have gotten involved in setting this match and the meeting up. Enough for conspiracy charges at the very least. He’s been asking for a transfer to our European operations anyways.”

The version of dozens of jailed gang members swam in Kane’s eyes. That testimony would be enough to convicted them, and keep them in prison while larger cases were built against each one of them. It was a RICO wetdream. But… “You said it’s a wager. What happens if we lose?”

“I’m sure that some people would be very interested in who the Secret Empire really are, don’t you think?” Arcade smiled. “Want to shake on it?”

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t, but you have no other choice. And that, Scooter, is why the house always wins.”