Operation: Teenage Wasteland - Remy's plan and the execution thereof

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

Remy's plan to find Thomas Glorian and restore X-Force back to what they call normal begins with a break-in.



The building that all the intel - such as it was - put Russo's men, and more importantly Glorian in had been a cheap office building once, until Apocalypse attacked New York. It had been abandoned in the evacuation, and the businesses never returned. It was in poor repair, but despite the graffiti'd "For Sale" sign above the front entrance, it hadn't been condemned, though only by the grace of overworked building inspectors who had no interest in inspecting anything with walking distance of District X. Above the third floor, some of the filthy windows were even still intact, and despite that it had no legal residents, the occasional light could be dimly seen, and the boards nailed over the windows on the lower floors hung loosely.

Cammie cracked her knuckles. Breaking into the place would be easy. Even with the people in. Just bust in a window and try not to bleed all over everything. She looked at the girl she was working with for this. It was weird thinking they were supposed to know each other but didn't. It was an

odd feeling at best, and she hated it. It also really added to the urge to punch this girl out and do the entire thing on her own. She worked better on her own anyway. Fuck this teamwork shit.

"Ready?" she asked dryly.

"Whenever you are, dude," Jubilee replied, giving the building a once over. She was more then willing to allow Cammie to take lead, since she still had only a brief idea of what the hell she was doing. "You see a good place to get in?"

"Figure we just bust a fucking window on one side and then go open one on the other when whoever the fuck is in there is checking it out," Cammie said, "You got a brick or anything like that?"

"Dude, do I look like I carry bricks about in my pants or somethin'?" Jubilee asked, one raised eyebrow telling anyone who could see what she thought of that suggestion. "Look, I figure a few pafs should do it."

"Like fuck I know what you carry around in your pants," Cammie said, "That's waaaay too fucking much information for me," she noted, but did find something suitably heavy, "Get to it. I got an idea."

It didn't take Jubilee long to melt the glass in the window, and when she was done she blew on her fingers like they were guns. If you were going to do something, you might as well look cool doing it, that's what Jubilee had always thought.

While she was doing that, Cammie tested the weight of the large piece of whatever she had grabbed in her hands and then lobbed it at a window. The sound of glass shattering was something she really did enjoy way too much. "Awww yeah."

"I can't believe you just did that," Jubilee whispered, a little too loudly but she was a teenager who had fuck all knowledge of what being a spy actually involved, so she figured that was fine. "Come on, moron. Let's get the fuck outta dodge."

She pulled on Cammie's arm, dodging boxes and trying to keep them out of sight from anyone who might want to either A. Kill them, B. Shoot at them or C. All of the above.

Cammie pulled her arm back with enough force that she almost fell on her ass, "Don't. Ever. Fucking. Touch. Me," she said, following the other girl at a large distance, though why they were running away instead of fighting was beyond her.

"We are so fucked," Jubilee said, blinking at the police cars and wondering just what the fuck it was they were meant to do now. "I mean, not in the nice way where there's flowers and champagne either."

Cammie grinned, "Says you. This is just the type of fucking I like."



Sofia and Marie-Ange do their best to be mice that roar. Or in this case, mice that block off alleys and create hurricane winds. They're just a little better at their powers than they expected.





The alley was littered with trash and coldly damp with melting slush. The chipped brick of the buildings and the pitted and cracked concrete paving competed with the trash and dirt to make it as unwelcoming an environment as possible in the city. The noise from the occasional car passing on the streets it opened onto echoed in the tight quarters but only penetrated a few feet. Beyond that it was just the mulled city noises.

Marie-Ange had found more tarot cards in her office and desk and scattered among her things than she ever remembered even thinking she might own. They were everywhere, and she wasn't familiar with any of them. The ones she thought she might know were bent and smudged with marks she couldn't remember making, and the rest were strange and unrecognizable. She'd raided Doug's server room for packs of cards from a game he played, if she was going to have to use unfamiliar images, they should be completely strange, not these odd strangers she could have known. She pressed against the chilly brick of the building Remy had told them people would be coming out of, and concentrated hard on the card in her hand, and much faster than she thought it might, a brick wall, red stone and chalk white mortar appeared, too clean and bright to be real, but tall and thick and sturdy nonetheless.

Pausing in fidgeting with the thick braid of her shoulder, Sofia tilted her head slightly, staring. "That is. Very impressive," she finally managed, coming closer to cautiously brush the tips of her fingers against the solid image. Realizing herself, Sofia blushed and stepped back, pointedly returning to their door watching mission. Where she - Marie-Ange, Sofia reminded herself - came from, mutants, mutations like this, were probably a regular occurrence, so long as she came from anywhere else other than isolated villages and equally isolated private schools.

"It was not supposed to ... be that ah, well that was not what I was expecting." Marie-Ange had expected a cartoon wall, or something that looked entirely out of place, rather than this new pretty brick that looked as though some worker team had put it up overnight. "It is so ... solid." She walked over and prodded at it near where Sofia had touched. "Hopefully it will stay until Remy has done... whatever it is he was going to do." The cajun had left out most of the details, just that they were going to find the person who had done this and try to reverse it. Marie-Ange was frankly, happier that way because she was fairly sure that the parts of the plan she hadn't been told meant Remy was going to hit someone.

"You must be very talented," Sofia reassured quietly, with a shy little nod. "I mean. Nevermind, this is all very confusing. But. It is a very nice wall. I am sure it will stay." Sofia took another peek for anyone, frowning.

Marie-Ange nodded, having gone quiet trying to concentrate on the wall, and how solid it was and keeping it that way. She wasn't at all sure that if someone said "That wall wasn't there this morning!" that she'd be able to keep it in place, but Remy had been very clear that they needed to block off one end of the alley. Maybe she should've used boxes, but now was not really the time to second-guess herself, as the alley-side door crashed open and a cluster of badly-dressed men came out carrying what was the largest number of guns and knives she'd ever seen, even if it was just that each one had one. It was still more than she'd seen before.

Making a small meeping noise, Sofia ducked back around the wall. "Oh, I hope this works..." she muttered under her breath, before scrunching her face up in concentration, hand up in front of her.

A blast of wind immediately shot through the alley, a wide gust that sent the new arrivals tumbling. In fact, it was tad forceful, a punch that sent them flying instead of the forceful nudge down she had been attempting.

As Marie-Ange stared, her created brick wall slumped over and turned into ooze behind her. Her squeak matched Sofia's earlier meeping, and as both women backed out of the alley away from the sirens and flashing lights of a police car, and the shouts from the policemen as they rounded up the stumbling and swearing men and took away their guns and knives , she squeaked out a very quiet "Maybe a little too much, no?"

"Um. Oh dear." Sofia looked over at Marie-Ange and smiled sheepishly.



Doug and North and Nico... start a commotion!



The sound of police radios drifted in on the natural breezes coming from the other side of the building and it's alleyway, and Doug's earpiece gave a quiet chirp, indicating that it was their cue to move.

~It would be unprofessional to hum the Mission Impossible theme. It would be unprofessional to hum the Mission Impossible theme. It would be...~ The quiet litany in Doug's brain served two purposes: to calm his nerves, and to remind him that this was a serious thing, and not some action movie he could watch in the comfort of his apartment. His responsibility, along with Nico and David, was to get into the basement and blow the fuses. He could do that. He could totally do that.

Christophe – who by now had inferred that he was one ‘David North’ – had blanked his face as much as he could, but could not quite keep himself from glancing around the alley nervously. For about the five hundredth time that night, he subtly patted his side with his arm just to make sure that the gun he had sequestered from ‘his’ apartment was still in its holster. Merely insurance, of course.

When Doug failed to move forward at the given cue, Christophe glanced at Nico and prodded him in the ankle with his foot. “Move.”

Nico herself was nervous, but she had a goddamn reason to be like that! She was in charge now! She hadn't been in charge of anything save the amount of sugar Remy liked on his morning coffee so far, and now she was in a dark alleyway playing secret agent with two guys that would most likely get themselves killed if she messed up. Talk about speedy promotions, there.

Glaring at Doug, Nico extended a hand to poke him on the shoulder too. She also held a finger on her lips; no yelping right now, or she would make sure neither of them had discernible lips for the next couple of hours.

The expression that Doug tossed over his shoulder could best be interpreted as "I'm going already, stop poking me!" He knew what the chirp of the earpiece meant. He didn't need prodding from the peanut gallery. All they had to do was get in the basement. Easy peasy. The basement door had a simple keycard reader, and Doug had discovered some hardware in his server room - a keycard emulator attached to a scanner. He put the card in the slot, hit a couple buttons, and a handful of seconds later, the door beeped and audibly unlocked.

Stiffening slightly at the noise, Christophe darted another glance down the deserted alley. Not that he would admit it aloud, but his heart was racing ridiculously fast. So instead of waiting for the geeky genius American to start jumping up and down in celebration or finish mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done, Christophe reached out and pulled the door open. He gave both his companions a tight smile as he gallantly gestured them in in a parody of what he had been taught to do at formal dinner functions. At 16 years of age, the German was a cocky smartass… who most certainly did not want to be the first one entering unfamiliar territory.

Oh for the love of-

Nico sighed and took the lead, eyes preemptively going all black as she prepared herself for unforeseen danger. She didn't know what to expect of the room, but when this proved to be as empty of people as she had thought, she carried on carefully. The stairs to the basement weren't too far ahead, and whatever the others were doing had been good enough to leave the area apparently deserted, which was awesome by her. Motioning her companions to follow her, the girl made a careful beeline to the basement.

Okay, the eyes were...creepy. Shades of Evil Willow. But she was the one in charge of this little caper, and she didn't -look- evil, at least right then, so Doug dutifully followed her. He flicked on the
small Maglite that he had found in his office (apparently had one of every size of flashlight that Maglite made, among many other things) and scanned the basement. "There," he whispered, highlighting the
fuse box in a corner.

Christophe tried to follow as silently as possible, placing each step heel-first to minimise the sound of footfalls as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He stopped some distance away from the fuse box, indicating that he would keep a look out while they worked on blowing the fuse.

Entering the room, Nico spotted the fuse box and opened it slowly. She was by no means well versed on...whatever you had to be versed on to deal with fuses and what not, but she could do a good job at rendering them useless. Eyes darkening again, she extended a finger gingerly towards them. "edorroc", whispered as a single shot of energy left her finger, hitting the fuses and quickly corroding them until there was little left. Turning around, she muttered the other two to follow her out in silence.

"Okay then, Zatanna," Doug murmured, having easily transposed the magical word she had spoken into its regular form. The low background hum of all the machinery in a building had ceased, but to be sure, he attached a multimeter to a power cable some distance from the fuse box. "Everything's out," he reported before joining the other two to make their exit.

A guy with no real discernable 'superpower' on a team of people who all commanded various powers...

"Hey, does that mean I'm Batman?"

"Please, have you seen the way she wears?", Nico muttered in return as she let Doug check the fuse box. "I don't think so..." Batman didn't kill people, lat thing she knew.

Rolling his eyes, Christophe resisted the urge to thump Doug on the head and took Nico’s lead and followed her towards the exit. They were almost at the top of the stairs when there was a rustle of movement from behind the door. Reflexively reaching out, he grabbed Nico’s shoulder and raised an arm to halt Doug, ears straining for more sounds.

“Wait.”

The whispered word had barely left his lips when the door swung open and the blinding light of a flash light illuminated their figures. The guard. Damn it! They couldn’t have reacted that quickly…

“Who the hell—”

Unceremoniously pushing past Nico, Christophe took to the remaining steps without really thinking about it, grabbing the torchlight form the guard and throwing a punch at his jaw. It landed right where he wanted it to, although his knuckles would probably hurt like a bitch later. But there was a second guard behind the first and they needed to get out. Now.

“Run!” Christophe shouted, all thoughts of stealth having been abandoned as he shoved the first guard against the second with strength that he was not used to, effectively toppling both to the ground.

"Dude! You can't leave them just like that- Whatever. teiuq!" A thin veil of energy surged from Nico's hand, wrapping the guards and pretty much forcing them to an eerie and certainly uncomfortable hug of sorts; the walls around her withered, the paint falling on some places. She then turned around and followed the others. They had to get out of there.



And while the boys + Nico are wrecking fuses and making a lot of sound and noise, Wanda and Amanda get their hands in Russo's gang's pants.




At first glance, the girl waiting on the corner, huddled in a doorway and smoking a cigarette, was just another of New York's floating street population. A closer look would have revealed clothes a little too clean, hair a little too well cared-for and a face that showed little sign of lack of food and exposure to the elements. But who gives street people more than a cursory look? She slouched against the doorway with an expression of boredom, until movement from a building several doors down the street caught her eye. She ditched the cigarette butt, grinding it out under a booted foot, and hunched into her jacket to walk around the corner.

"They're movin'," she told the taller Rom woman who was waiting for her. "Time t' do our bit."

Wanda nodded sharply as she eyed the guards that were their current target. She'd been vaguely nervous when they'd gotten into place but some of the boredom of the wait had chipped that away. She unzipped her jacket just a bit and tilted her head slightly.

"Are you a better pickpocket or a better distraction?" she asked quietly as they started towards their goal.

Amanda's grin was almost gleefully feral. "Distraction," she said immediately, increasing her pace without pausing to check that Wanda was ready. "Oi!" she bellowed at the men milling around the van. "Any of you blokes gotta light?"

Growing up with the fast paced, fast mouth Pietro had made Wanda able to deal with sudden actions like this and she couldn't help a small grin at the woman's actions. She fell back slightly to let the guards react to Amanda, edging around to put herself behind the men.

"Scram," one of the men growled at her, but his companion gave her an interested look, one which Amanda noticed with an internal cynical eye roll. Men were all the same.

"Maybe we could make a trade?" Amanda said to the leering man as she reached them, cocking her hip slightly. "You give me a light an' I... light you up some other way."

"Carl, we haven't got time. The boss wants us out of here," complained the first man, looking irritated at his companion. "Get rid of this whore and let's get going."

"Whore, is it?" Amanda retorted. "That's a nice way t' talk, that's for sure." She moved closer, keeping both of their gazes on her.

This was stupidly easy. Wanda'd spent most of her formative years playing the distraction to Pietro's pick pocketing but she'd done her fair share over the years. For guards, though, they were hardly the most on point - they'd been so drawn in by Amanda that they hadn't even realized she'd been coming up behind them.

Of course it was the angrier of the two that had the keys clipped to his belt but that just made it all the more sweeter when she reached out for them. A quick movement of her hand had the keys in question in her possession as she melted back towards the nearest wall.

"Go on, get out of here, before I make you leave," Grumpy was saying, and now his friend was looking less enamoured and more bothered by the situation. Amanda held up her hands.

"All right, all right, no need to get your knickers in a twist, 'm goin'," she said, backing away - she'd seen Wanda slip in and out and assumed the gypsy had done her part. They were fucked if she hadn't. "Have a nice day an' all, that's what you New Yorkers say, right?"

"Fuck off."

"Sounds about right." She continued down the street, hunching her shoulders and dropping her head against the wind, trying to look as forgettable as possible. She ducked around the next corner, and there was Wanda, as she'd expected. "You got it?" she asked without preamble.

"No, I just got a nice piece of arse for my trouble," Wanda grumbled. She held up her middle finger and twirled the key set around. "There was no problem."



Ororo, Remy and Sarah break into the building where Russo has Glorian stashed. Remy and Ororo come in through the window, Sarah comes in through the door... and then Russo goes out through the window, several stories up.



Remy watched Amanda and Wanda waggle the stolen keys as they kept going up the street, tossing them into the trash as he'd told them. Three men arrested, another pair bottled up, the power killed and most of Russo's goons who were at least five blocks and twelve minutes from realizing that they didn't have keys. This just might work. He motioned to Sarah and Wade, pointing to his watch and then the door. Lebeau had been forced to go back to simple signs, to indicate what he needed: in three minutes, Sarah would go through the door and Wade would get into the alley and wait for Glorian. Once Ororo got Glorian clear, they'd take him to Emma. Sarah looked feral and Wade looked like he was about to wet himself or drop the stungun he'd provided him. Wade Wilson at sixteen was as likely to shoot one of them as he was one of Russo's goons, and Remy wasn't taking any chances.

With them notified, he slipped out of the unmarked van, and into the opposite alley. It was a simple leap for his enhanced agility to let him grab the opposite fire escape, and climb up two stories where Ororo was waiting. She'd been trained by al-Gibar; an experienced cat burglar by this age. He hoped it was enough.

"Alright, Stormy." Time to get into position." He lept from the fire escape rail to the opposite wall, catching the moulded half-pillars with one hand and the window edge with another. The top floor was boarded up and deserted, but it made an easy route around the building to get above the second story windows, where Glorian was supposed to be pressed against.

She remembered the rules perfectly - 'no flying, you'll draw too much attention', 'stay quiet', 'wear clothes' - which didn't mean she liked them, but she could sense the strange-eyed man was wound up tightly enough to snap if anybody gave him any trouble and frankly she wasn't that stupid. It wasn't too far a jump to the other building, and as she neared it the slightest gust of wind buoyed her up until she had a chance to insinuate her fingers into a waiting crevice. What? It wasn't flying.

Silently she followed him as they edged their way methodically around the building, ears straining to hear any signs of activity within. So far, everything was quiet. That was good, right?

Three minutes. Sarah had never done the waiting game well, even when she was in the tunnels and it felt like all she had to do was sit around and wait. Besides, the SWAT uniforms were constricting and itchy. Anticipation stirred up memories of fighting in the tunnels: the cold, damp air; the watchful eyes as she waited for her turn. Except this time, these assholes had no idea what they were up against.

The last minute passed and Sarah left the van, throwing the door to the building open with a bony shoulder. A bone club pushed through the tough material of the SWAT suit, and she grinned. This was going to be fun.

The ground floor had already been cleared, and the stairway up was badly lit. Going up the stairs only took a minute, but in that time, Remy and Ororo were able to bend down and peer through the windows from the ledge above. Russo was talking into a cellphone, walking around and obviously rattled. After all, the last ten minutes had turned out to be a lot more exciting than he had planned. He still had four men with him, two guarding the stairs, one near Russo, and the last sitting on a chair beside Glorian. The reality manipulator was cuffed, hands behind his back, and the left side of his face was ugly with bruises. Obviously Russo had took his frustrations out on him.

Remy motioned to Ororo, pointing out the closest window to Glorian. He was near the corner, which meant getting him out would be relatively quick. He turned and moved further down the ledge, cat-like. Once Sarah started her distraction, Ororo would quietly go in through the window closest to Glorian. When she did, Remy would come in loud from the other side, hopefully diverting all attention away from their rescue.

Somewhat annoyingly, he heard a hiss from behind him as Ororo tried to get his attention. When he turned back, alarmed, he found her staring at him with a strange look on her face. "Are we really married?" she asked, quietly enough that it wouldn't draw attention from inside.

Remy blinked, not expecting the question. To be honest, he'd avoided Ororo as much as he could since the morning, not wanting to let his emotions get in the way. "Oui. Dis summer. We, uh- we got married in France." He was too off-guard to say anything but the truth.

"And this is what we do?" She jerked a chin at their current precarious position clinging to the side of the building.

Remy actually laughed lightly. "Sometimes, chere. Sometimes..."

"Well," she said, with a toss of her head and a grin he knew all too well, "maybe I understand why we are married, then."

There wasn't time for more, as suddenly there was a commotion from inside the building, a flurry of shouting and doors being thrown open that showed the cavalry had arrived.

With a growl, Sarah rushed down the corridor towards the armed guards, hoping to catch some of them before they could start shooting. Guns made upworlders cowards. Given a gun, they would just as soon shoot you from a distance than fight you up-close. She didn't play that way.

Swinging a bone club pulled from her thigh, Sarah hit one fumbling guard in the temple, sending him sprawling into the guard next to him. The first's gun went flying, and the second's shot went off, grazing her arm instead of hitting her in the chest. "I just pulled this out of my leg asshole. Do you really think your gunshots hurt more than that?"

Remy motioned for Ororo to make her move, as he edged by the window, ready to swing down.

Stealthily she eased open the nearest window, having worked out the simple latch in a matter of moments. Really, relying on guns and bravado to keep you safe was stupid if you weren't going to invest in some quality locks. No one paid her any attention as she slipped into the room, so occupied were they with the other intruder. She crept towards Glorian, holding a finger to her lips as he spotted her and offering a quick smile as she pulled her lock-pick kit out.

As she reached Glorian, Remy swung, piking his body out into the air, only his immensely strong grip keeping him from falling. He twisted, and speed and gravity did the rest as he shattered through the glass window. The gunmen jumped at the sound coming from the unexpected direction, as Remy rolled with the impact and came up on his feet. His first blow took the nearest man in the throat, collapsing his windpipe and leaving him to thrash on the ground, gurgling for air that could came. Sarah had done well, an advantage to having a former feral, near psychotic teenaged past to draw on, and two cards disarmed a pair of guards.

Billy Russo was a career criminal. He liked to boast that he'd been a 'made man' since the time he could walk, and the boast actually wasn't that far from the truth. He'd started running errands for the members of the Maggia crime family when he was still in grade school. In junior high, he had graduated to managing a group of street kids, who acted as lookouts for Maggia meetings. In high school, he came to the attention of one of the capos when he beat a drug dealer looking to horn in on the Maggias particularly viciously.

Ever since that day, he made his living as a 'fixer' for the various gangs and families in New York City. As his reputation grew, he'd gone freelance, with no hard feelings from his former bosses, a rare thing indeed in the criminal underworld. After finally paying his dues, and amassing enough power of his own, Russo had started his own gang. He picked Kick as the product of choice for several reasons: one, because it didn't conflict with any of his old employers, who he had no real desire to offend. Two, because it was a mutie drug - his thugs and flunkies would be less likely to pocket and use the product. And lastly, because it sold for an astonishing amount of money per dose. And Russo liked money very much.

Billy, or 'The Beaut' as some of his contemporaries called him because of his good looks and way with the ladies, treated competition in a very direct way - he either acquired them and took them into his own organization, or he destroyed them utterly. And when he'd gotten word of people nibbling around the edges of his organization, he'd picked up that weasel Glorian and started sweating him. Except the rat wouldn't say a damn thing, like he didn't even remember the week before or something. And then his men had started getting picked off, like someone was working their way through his gang to find their man.

Which had led to him standing in a boarded-up, darkened room, with four of his toughest enforcers, screaming into his phone. "I don't care who the fuck they are, you fucking-" his voice chopped off as the goddamn Angel of Death himself burst into the room. There was another, someone untying Glorian, and that was a problem, but Russo was practically mesmerized by the way the man in the trench coat danced nimbly through his men like they weren't even there. "Fuckin' get him!" he roared to the men next to him, pulling his own piece out and blazing away at the intruder. One or two more men straggled in from the hall, but far less than should have been in earshot.

"Russo." The word was delivered flatly, more frightening than malice. A card smashed the trigger guard, pinwheeling the weapon from his hand. "'ro,, get Glorian out." There was a snap-hiss, and a six foot steel staff was in his hands. Russo had a fraction of a section to wonder where it came from before the tip gashed open his eyebrow and sent him reeling. The man next to him went down hard, and Russo scrambled to his feet, only to find an iron grip latched on his throat.

"De surveillance was de nice way of telling you to get out de Kick business, Russo." The red on black eyes burned as the met him, and he gasped as the glowing card actually pierced his skin, burying itself in his belly. "Dis is de hard way." He twisted, and put him face first through the nearest plateglass window.

Russo yelled, a combination of fear, pain, and anger, as he went through the plate glass, the wooden slats covering it, and out into the open air. The cry continued until it was cut short by a loud crunch, the sound of a body smashing down into the roof of a parked car.

"Happy landings, prick." Remy said, as Sarah stabbed the last guard in the throat. "You done yet?"

Sarah looked up, wild-eyed, and grinned. "You have any more?"

"Not today. Time to disappear." Remy said. Ororo had already absconded with Glorian, and now it was their turn before the shots drew police back to the area.This had better work, Remy thought, otherwise, he was out of ideas how to get his teenaged charges back to normal.



Once Glorian is out of the building, Wade is tasked with getting him from the building to the office safely. To the Wademobile! Okay, to the Subway! Okay, to a taxi cab!



Glorian looked at the man he'd been hustled into custody of by the very attractive woman who'd helped remove him from the hands of very unpleasant people. This new man was tall and broad with muscle, which, considering the past several hours spent in the company of similar men, was not reassuring. However, this man had yet to start punching him, and between waking up to find himself several decades older than he should be and the abduction and consequent working over this was a significant plus.

"Where are we going?" the smaller man croaked. He hacked and spat out a clot of dried blood that had settled in the space formerly occupied by a tooth. He probed the socket with his tongue and scowled. "Great. I needed more holes in my mouth."

Wade checked to make sure nobody nefarious was waiting around the corner, then headed for the van. "The office," he said. "Uh, I'm Wade, by the way. And if everything works out, we won't run into any trouble." He hoped everything worked out, because he really wasn't sure what he'd do if they ran into trouble.

Glorian coughed again and wiped at his mouth. "The unmarked van don't really set me at ease. Not that anybody'd wanna wave a bag of candy at me right now." There had been some hysterics about that a few days ago, but now it seemed like an incidental footnote. Nothing like being caught in a pants-pissing hostage situation to put your life in perspective.

"Um... we could take the subway?" Wade offered, since he was pretty sure he wouldn't want to get in a van with a guy he didn't know after being kidnapped and beaten up. "You just have to not run off again or anything. But the van would probably be faster. And there wouldn't be people staring at you."

Glorian considered his swelling face, aching ribs, and general exhaustion. A quiet interior was appealing. Then again, his father had always told him not to trust anybody but family (with an exception for Uncle Duncan, who'd hoc anything that wasn't nailed down). And his brain hadn't yet fully processed the rescue, let alone anything else. Doing so in the company of people he was almost positive wouldn't actively be trying to kill him had a certain appeal.

Also his escort seemed almost as confused as he was, and even if they took the van he wasn't entirely convinced the guy wouldn't get lost.

"What the hell," Glorian said, "I never rode a New York subway before. Besides, where'm I gonna run?"

"Anywhere," Wade answered, pocketing the keys to the van as he turned the corner and headed for the nearest subway entrance. He kept an eye out for pursuit as well as any goons who might decide that right now was an awesome time to show up. "But we'll have to be careful, eh? Cause I'm not too familiar with the subway here." There'd be maps, though, right? Maps Wade could follow.

Glorian limped down the stairs close behind, a scowl making his face only slightly uglier than usual. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? Cuz you don't seem ta know what you're doing. And just a suggestion, if you're worried somebody's gonna run you wanna not wanna point out 'anywhere' as an option."