Siege Perilous - Part 2 - Searching
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xp_logsSiege Perilous Day 3 - Pillow talk between Amanda and Marie-Ange becomes a possible lead to finding Illyana Rasputin.
The sheets were soft and smooth and deliciously cool on Marie-Ange's overheated skin, but even so, she stretched one foot out from under them and wiggled her toes to catch the breeze from the air conditioner. "I am going to have more bruises from you than I did from Mister Strange..." She complained, with a sly grin. "I know he vexed you but really, darling, he was old. You do not need to compete with old men." She poked her toes into the also bare ankle of her partner, and wrinkled up her nose in a laugh. "You are so ticklish for someone so absurdly powerful."
That earned her a lazy swat from the half-dozing woman next to her. "Gerroff." Then a tousled blonde head appeared from the pile of pillows. "And I wasn't competing. He just gets up my nose. Well, got up my nose." She snorted and nudged Marie-Ange with her foot. "That's one less old bugger in the world, thanks to you."
"It is too bad you could not keep the cloak. Ugh, how could such a thing be so much like a guard dog?" Marie-Ange sat up a little. "I should buy you something pretty with my paycheque I will get from that job. He had so many people who wanted him dead, or worse. We did turn down one of the contracts, they wanted us to ship the body to Wallachia, and..." She made a disgusted face, tongue out and nose screwed up. "Besides that being disgusting, it is disrespectful to the target. We made a lot of money off him, the least we can do is not let someone do horrible things to the body."
Amanda shrugged one shoulder. "They could turn him into dog food for all I care," she said, with an edge to her voice that showed she did care, very much. Only with Marie-Ange did she allow herself these small slips. "Still, him being dead does mean we have to get the Soulsword the hard way - actually looking for the host."
Amanda had heard the giggle that Marie-Ange let loose probably a dozen times before, just in this night alone, but not quite with the edge of disbelief. "I am ever so glad that is mostly not in my hands. Happy to help, but my contract does not cover a wild goose chase for a magic sword." Nonetheless, she sat up more, sheets slipping around her waist as she rested her elbows on the mattress. "I know it makes me sound air-headed, but remind me again why you want it?" She believed in magic, she saw it most nights, many days, and some days it left rug burns on her knees, but she really tuned out when the Hellfire types started tracking bits of it down. Art, certainly. She would talk art with them all day, but when the topic turned to chasing down magic artefacts, she begged off. It reminded her too much of things left hundreds of miles south, and years behind her.
"What else? Selene wants more power." Amanda rolled over onto her back, putting her hands under her head. "You weren't here back when we had that girl from Xavier's, the one with the pink hair and the pixie wings? Well, turned out she had part of her soul turned into this dagger - a mini version of what we're looking for now. With a bit of persuasion, she gave us the whole story, plus the dagger. Well, not so much gave - Selene took it from her with this ritual. Gave her a massive power boost and now she wants the adult version so she can finish off the X geezer and the rest of the white hats and put an end to this bloody war. All we need is Illyana Rasputin."
"Rasputin?" Now Marie-Ange sat up completely, the languid posture dropping away as she moved. She crossed her legs, and rested her elbows on her knees. "You had a girl from Xavier's School, and now you are looking for a Rasputin." She shook her head, one eye blinking closed. "Tell me about this Illyana, because... I was at that school. I knew a Rasputin. Big man, rather, um, you'd probably have called him a wanker. Turned into steel and oh did he ever have an ego about it."
Amanda's eyebrow rose and she propped herself up on her elbows, looking intently at Marie-Ange. The eye twitch... she'd learned what it meant. "Illyana Rasputin," she repeated. "Russian national, youngest of three. She had two older brothers, much older..." As she spoke, she sat up further and reached for the nightstand drawer without taking her eyes from Marie-Ange, and pulled a set of tarot cards from the drawer.
Marie-Ange let her head fall back to glare at the ceiling. "I hate it. I hate it, it gives me a migraine, it makes me throw up." She protested, but reached a hand out for the deck of cards. "The last time I burst a blood vessel in my eye." She shuffled the deck once, expertly, and then looked down at her hands as though they'd done something to offend. "I am sorry, darling, I am not doing this naked." She dropped the cards on the bed, stood and wiggled into a pair of yoga pants and a slinky tank top.
She cut the deck once she had sat back down, flipped three cards and then groaned. "I think this... " She tapped one of the cards. "The Emperor, upside down is inflexibility, or being controlling?" Marie-Ange pulled her hair off her neck, already frustrated. "This is why I never do this. It is so much extra. So. If that one is... oh, bugger, what was his name. Petros? Pietro? He was certainly a controlling type..." She flicked a finger at the next card. "This one I know, seven of swords. Sneaky tactics, deception, strategy. A lot of those Russian mafia types in Bed-Stuy have tattoos of it. I've killed a lot of them."
"Maybe he's in the mafia? None of them ever threatened me with an annoying stuck-up metal arsehole though, and this card makes no sense with the rest." She pointed to the last card. "This one is supposed to be... well, it might come up for us, sex and magic and attachment, if I were going to do readings for us." Another pause as Marie-Ange considered the card, and the devil drawn on it. "Which I am not. I do not want to throw up on your shoes again."
"Takes more than vomit to damage a pair of Docs," came Amanda's soothing reply. She considered the cards, and the information that had accompanied them. "So there's definitely a connection with Xavier's Homes for Wayward Mutants," she continued. "I was already thinking we could try the Cypher for some more info, but now I'm sure. He's got connections there as well and isn't well known - there's your seven of swords. Better than me going through their security for their files, any way. They started things, but trespassing would be a bit of a blatant breach of the treaty." She moved so she was sitting next to Marie-Ange on the side of the bed and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You, Angie, are bloody brilliant, and you've saved my arse."
"You can thank me by getting dressed..." Marie-Ange leaned into the kiss, and then rested her head on Amanda's shoulder. "I am hungry, and I want midnight pitas food. Hummus settles my stomach." She wrinkled her nose at Amanda, with a smile. "Wait, The Cypher also knows the mansion people? Bugger. I have bought information from him, and I would never have guessed. Well, no matter. I left so early that I have few good memories of the place. I think I remember more hating half my classmates and feeling like it was a cult."
"You were better off out of there," Amanda agreed as she got up and started hunting for her clothes, scattered all over the room. "Cypher knows everyone, that's his job. You can't trust him off the books, but once he's bought, he stays bought. Just depends on the reward." She snorted at the thought of Clea having to offer herself to him. "And if he turns on us... well, that's easy enough to deal with." She yanked a silk shirt down over her head, threatening to tear the buttonholes with the strain on the still-buttoned front. "But that's enough shop talk. Between the magic and the fucking, 'm bloody starving. Let's go get shwarma."
Siege Perilous Day 3 - X-Force’s research team - Jubilee and Charlie Plunder - combine their respective skills to try and come up with something.
Jubilee dropped a set of dusty books in front of Charlie and slid with a groan into the seat opposite him.
No matter how much rehab she did over the years, her legs still ached at the change of weather and the weather was indeed changing. Rain had been forecast for tomorrow but Jubilee had known about it well before then.
She slid open the light weight laptop she’d placed in front of her earlier and started the boot sequence. “Tell me you’ve already found something so I can go have a hot bath.”
"I found a lot of things. Many things." Charlie rubbed the end of his nose absently. "Many terrible and fantastical things.... sorry, seriously though, the Darkhold Strange mentioned is... a book. A rare powerful tome of magic that has been lost for centuries. Kind of a Necronomicon except not utter bullshit. I don't see how it applies to the girl he was tracking."
“Sorry dude, that means you’re off my Christmas list. Let me see if witchtok has anything to say.” It was half a joke and half serious, the majority of covens seemed to have at least one TikTok account between them these days, although the validity of anything you found there was questionable at best. Still, it gave her an in to certain people who might otherwise have been insular and distrustful. “Do your books show who last had it?”
"Who hasn't? I've got everyone from Alastair Crowley to HP Lovecraft supposedly having it. Here's a vampire lord from New England, a witch in Salam, the PharmaBro... it's a myth, Lee. If it is real, it's popular enough an idea that tracking it through text is about as reliable as finding the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant."
“Strange didn’t seem like the type of dude who’d pull a prank with his dying breath. Also, vampire lord? Like, vampires are real?”
Jubilee fired off a quick query to her contacts, poking at the ones she could see were currently online.
“What about your people? They know anything? Or like, Adam? He trained with that scary bitch didn’t he? Why the hell would the Hellfire club break a truce for something that’s a myth?”
"Because it isn't a myth, but we have no idea what it is." Charlie shook his head. "Imagine you're looking for something valuable, but only you know what is valuable."
“Least we don’t need to be careful anymore now they’ve broken the truce. Dibs on slashing that bitch’s throat next time we see her.” Jubilee tapped out an answer to one of her contacts, reading their response quickly. “Wait, didn’t Wanda say something else as well? Like ‘order out of chaos’? What the heck would a book have to do with that?”
"Look, dial it back, Lee. We don't know what the book means. If it means anything."
“Yeah, sorry. I’m a fan of mystery shows. This stuff is like crack to me, Dude. So, records of the Darkhold, yeah? I could dive in, see if anyone ever auctioned the thing? If it ever passed hands via money, I can find it.”
"It's the wrong way to look at it. If someone told you they had Thor's Hammer? We can't take any of those transactions seriously. We need to look deeper."
"That's all you, Charles in Charge. I'm like, about as deep as a kiddie pool." Jubilee pulled up maps and hacked her way into Interpol, pausing her never-ending stream of consciousness for the space that it took. Even Jubilee's power of speech took second fiddle to the Wizkids of international policing. "So, what is the Darkhold then? I mean, if you can't find it, maybe you can like, find out about it? I'm already running search strings on this Illyana name we got."
"It's... well, a bit of a myth, really." He rubbed the tip of his nose absently. "OK, you've heard of the Necronomican? All the secrets of dark magic, wrapped in human skin, and complete bullshit. Well, the Darkhold is kinda like that except we know it exists. Or it existed. But there hasn't been really proof in centuries of it. It's like the boogie man every time something weird happens magically that you can't explain? Well, it becomes about the Darkhold. So it's almost impossible to figure out what sightings and research is real and what is just bullshit conspiracy nonsense. So we can't just look for the normal sightings and incidences. We need a way to sort through the noise." Despite her claims, he knew Jubilee knew and understood a lot more about magical theory than she claimed. Pillowtalk alone revealed that.
“So standard reference searches and Boolean strings ain’t gonna do it then.” Jubilee mused, pausing in her search as she pondered what might work. She’d been doing research on various things since she was in short pants, it’s what had attracted her to the Forger’s Guild. Same sort of meticulous attention to detail. “What are the commonalities? Are there things that only the Darkhold seems to have about it? Like, it always shows up at natural disasters or something like that?”
"I wish. The biggest common factor is that it tends to columenate with some event and then disappear for ages. Like maybe it needs to be recharged or something."
"Alright, well, he also mentioned the name Illyana. Can't be a coincidence. Although, I'm not sure what we're gonna be able to do with only a first name. Your books mention her at all? And what kind of big events? We talking mini apocalypse or what?"
Jubilee sounded frustrated for a moment, not sure how to move forward but if the whole big event thing was accurate then what big events were due? She didn't like the sound of that one bit, not given that the Hellfire Club had broken all truces in order to get this information from Strange. Marie-Ange had been involved as well, Jubilee had recognised her signature from the drone footage she'd pulled on their way out of that cluster fuck.
"According to Strange’s few logical references, this Illyana is linked to the Soulsword, which is a completely different kettle of magical fish. It’s the tool of leadership for the realm of Limbo. The Hellfire Club took the Souldagger from your classmate Megan, which is a way to locate her. And she’s tied to the Darkhold?” Charlie shook his head. “That is a lot of magic tied to one person, Jubilee. Like, President of the world meets owner of Amazon power. If we're going to find out what this Illyana knows, we need to get her. There's too many questions for our normal research to figure things out."
“Wait, I’ve got an idea. When was the last time the Darkhold was seen? Like, the very, very last time? Like, linked with an event that we can cross reference?”
"1871. In Prussia."
“Well that’s a bit shit. Did they even keep records of people that far back? Any indication of where in Prussia? Maybe we can cross reference immigration data or something. It’s a fucking long shot but it’s not like we’ve got anything better to go on. Maybe there’ll be a record of weird deaths or something.”
"I wish. It's a starting point, I guess." Charlie said. "Let's go from there."
Siege Perilous Day 4 - The next day, Clea and Amanda pay a visit to Astriel, a member of the magical underground.
TW: torture; death
Pulling up to the innocent looking house, Clea gave a hard look. "Wards. In the four corners. Seems that Astriel has been busy lately. Shall we?" Clea looked over at Amanda, "Good cop bad cop? Or just bad cop?"
"Honey might catch more flies than vinegar, but a bug zapper works better than both," Amanda replied, letting the driver open the door for her before stepping out. "Let's go in hard and put the fear of whatever fuzzy Wiccan deity they worship into them." Her mood was less than good after the dressing-down Selene had given her and she was wanting to pass it on.
Clea nodded, "Sounds like a plan." Getting out of the car she went up to the edge where the wards were standing strong and then forced her way in. She came up to the door and made a hand gesture as purple flames circled and the door opened, "Knock knock. Pardon the intrusion but we have some questions to ask and we're both in a bad mood."
There was a muffled sound of surprise and shock, followed by the smell of brimstone. "Teleport spell," she said sourly. "Short range one, tho'. They won't be far." She strode into what seemed to be a normal small house, albeit one crammed with books and papers and occult type items from floor to ceiling. Her boots rang out on the floor, then made a more hollow sort of sound and Amanda stopped. "Well, well. Looks like the magical underground took the name literally." She glanced at Clea. "Tear it up. I want to know what's down there."
Clea looked down at the floor and cast a spell that literally tore up a hole in the floor. She knelt down to look inside, "Seems to be a short tunnel system. I hear things further down."
"Rats in a trap," responded Amanda with a humourless smile. She dropped down into the hole and snapped her fingers, summoning a werelight. "Off you go," she told it, flicking it down the tunnel ahead of her. The small ball of light sullenly drifted down into the darkness, revealing walls and ceiling lined with old floorboards and packing crates, braced with larger pieces of wood here and there. "Looks like they went old school to avoid the magical signature," Amanda reflected to Clea as she began to follow the light. "Clever of them."
Clea smirked before moving to dropping down into the hole behind Amanda. "Look, another ward." She pointed at the shimmering symbols on the walls. "What are they afraid of? Maybe they do know what we desire."
"Or they're worried about Selene getting peckish," replied Amanda with a snort. She dispelled the ward, perhaps not quite so much with the ease Clea might have shown, but it still dissolved into nothing. "Well, that's rung the doorbell. Let's see who answers."
There was movement up ahead as the pair entered the old school. Though Clea couldn't see anyone, she felt their eyes. "Alright. We have some questions, so come on out and play nice." She yelled out.
The response was a series of fireballs, each no bigger than a baseball but coming in fast and hot. Amanda stepped back behind Clea. "Apparently they think they can fight this. Not the brightest decision they could have made."
Clea lifted her hand as the fireballs hit an invisible wall, "Silly." With a hand movement purple flames burst forth at her fingertips, "Let me show them out it is done. Vado" The flames left her hands and rushed down the corridor, lighting the way down. Moments later there was some yelling and movement.
"And apparently they only have one exit. Really silly," reflected Amanda as shapes began to come towards them, coughing in the smoke left by Clea's fireballs hitting something obviously flammable. "Gotcha." She clapped her hands together and created a shield around the nearest person, a woman with stark white skin. "Astriel," Amanda said with a smile. "Long time, no see. You haven't been avoiding us, have you?"
"Of course not..." Within the bubble Astriel was trying to stand upright and look dignified, which wasn't easy when your clothes are still smoldering. "What can the coven do for the Hellfire Club?"
"We are looking for someone by the name of Illyana Rasputin." Clea got straight to the point. "And I wouldn't recommend lying to us...wouldn't want to get anyone else involved." The white haired witch looked behind Astriel, "A few dozen is it?"
"No, nothing near those numbers. Seventeen, mostly minor hedge witches and the like," Astriel hastened to reply. "But the name Rasputin... I don't believe I've heard it before."
Amanda looked her over. "Maybe not," she said, considering the reply. "But you'll know the Soulsword, won't you?"
"That's blackest magic. We would never get involved with something like..." Astriel realised what she was about to say. "That is, we're too weak to meddle with something so powerful."
"So you do know about it. Any word on where it is?" Almost with a bored air, Amanda gestured and the bubble shrank to half its size, making Astriel hunch up to make room for herself.
"No! I don't know where it is, I swear!"
Amanda cocked her eyebrow. "You know, I didn't quite catch that. Clea, can you do something about the noise back there?"
The witch immediately teleported from view before the sounds of chaos erupted behind Astriel.
"No, no..." Followed by screams and something exploding.
"Where were we? Oh, that's right, you were telling me that there's word in the magical underground about the Soulsword." Amanda's expression was impassive as she met Astriel's eyes.
"But I don't know anything!" the other witch almost wailed.
Amanda looked back towards the chamber where her apprentice was. "Clea? Still a bit rowdy over here."
Another sound of something exploding, more screams followed by cries echoed down the hallway. "They just don't know how to shut up." Clea called out to her answer. "Should I just burn it all?"
"No need, pet," Amanda replied to Clea. She looked again at Astriel. "Astriel's remembered about Illyana, haven't you?"
Astriel gulped, tears streaming from her eyes. "Yes," she finally whispered.
Siege Perilous Day 4 - Kevin and Natasha seek out potential leads among the Russian mafia.
When the first indications of Russian involvement had appeared, Natasha brushed it off as some overzealous fans of foreign countries, but as more information funneled into their hands, the more it looked like it was the actual Russian mafia involved. As long ago as she'd left Mother Russia, Mother Russia seemed determined to bring her back into its clutches no matter the situation.
They were back at X-Force HQ looking through the various files and cases that'd accumulated over the last year to see if there were any connections. Natasha was running a background trace on mafia associates and recent travel into the States and she also had feelers out with her network to see what the current rumors were.
"I'm telling you, it's not the Russians running this. They might be involved in the pipeline but their occult days disappeared when the bottom dropped out financially twenty years ago. Ever since... Baranov was killed in 2012, they haven't even been in the illegal artifact market." Kevin said, as he flipped through files on his laptop. The spy spoke with the experience of decades out of his too young face. "I think we need to focus on them moving a who, not a what."
"If it's not the Russians, it's someone that's mimicking their tactics down to the letter." Natasha frowned and typed in a couple keywords, seeing who might delight in throwing shade at the Russians. "My outlook's been a bit myopic since my defection. Who're you thinking it is? I've got a list in my head but none of them have the kinds of resources and precautions it would take to move an artifact this valuable, much less a person."
"Moving a person is more their style, really. What if they moved her but she made arrangements for this Darkhold separately?" Kevin rubbed his eyes for a moment. "You know, I sometimes miss the Cold War. I've have the answer within five phone calls, three agencies and inside an hour. So let's say she's decided to move herself independently and needs a safe pipeline to Strange, at which point they... I don't know, teleport the book to them on a rainbow made of puppies and leprechauns later. Which Russian mob is operating the travel service into the five boroughs these days from the old country?"
“And some days I feel like I was born in the wrong decade. Wouldn’t trade the tech for anything though with how much easier it makes our lives.” Natasha tapped her fingers along the edge of the keyboard as she pondered the question. “First one that comes to mind are the Med’ved, aspiring to be more than they are by playing on the old folklore. If not them, then the Vuk are the next suspects. Started off a bit bumbling but have started to lean into the more villainous aspects of their folklore namesake.”
"Russian crime families branding themselves like fucking supervillains. Jesus, the old traditions really have gone to shit. Lenin must be spinning so fast they can use his tomb to power the Kremlin." Kevin shook his head. "The girl is a Russian national, could easily come through on a normal travel visa... so they likely moved her covertly over land through Europe and flew her over from a hub airport. Maybe even a limited charter. Let's start with the smaller airports within a three hour radius we know the Russians have influence in."
"Mother Russia had to modernize when the USSR fell after all. The power vacuums and the squabbling for what remained of the crime family apparatus left plenty of scraps for those not attached to the old ways. The fast money and easy jump out of squalor motivated a lot of people." Natasha shrugged. It'd been prettied up when it'd been drilled into her head but her voracious reading once she'd defected had given her a more well rounded view of things. "Still more than I would like, especially with our resources spread as thin as they are."
"Strange didn't leave us a lot of choice when he died. I'll take upstate, you start on New Jersey. That should cover the most likely suspects."
Siege Perilous Day 5 - Artie and Jean carry on the day-to-day business of X-Force and discuss their respective choices to be part of their teams.
Artie walked - limped - down the street, coffee in one hand. "You said the drop point is in the kitchen of a noodle place?" he asked. "Isn't that kind of obvious?" The place was three shops away and he paused, pulling his phone out and glancing at the screen. The place was tiny and only held a half dozen little tables, all crammed in. Maybe it worked when you bought a secret item on the menu or asked for someone.
"Would you prefer a burger joint?" came the reply from behind him as Jean closed the gap and fell in alongside him. "I hate smelling like grease." She yawned, evidence of bags under her eyes. "Besides, they make great lo mein."
He stopped and turned the volume on his synthesiser right down before saying "I always thought it would be more subtle, you know? Not just slipping the cook an envelope of cash after we order lunch."
"It depends on the place. Some people like to get creative. Mr. Sung's about as subtle as Remy LeBeau's accent," Jean said, rifling through her purse for a hair tie before pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "Everyone knows not to fuck with him or his restaurant, so his shop's a good middle ground drop point."
"Crazy." Artie shook his head. "Always thought there'd be more trenchcoats, less affordably priced business casual."
20 minutes later they had left the noodle shop with three to go bags, with only two of them having food in them. It was a good, delicious cover. "Hand off is in about two hours. Gives us plenty of time to eat," Jean said.
"You want to stop by the park?"
Artie nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He was still bemused by the noodle handover. "You know, when I agreed to come work here for six months while I rehabbed my leg, I didn't think it would be like this at all."
Jean smirked. "I did. What did you think it would be like?" she said.
"James Bond. I thought I'd have clandestine meetings in casinos with a martini and then a shoot out."
"Well you got the last part right," Jean said with a laugh that sent her breath misting into the chilly winter air. "Do you not like it?"
"It's ... a lot more complicated than I thought. I mean, things are pretty clear on the X-Men, but I'm on the injured roster so here I am, trying to be a good guy despite everything. What about you? Is it what you thought?"
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Jean shrugged. "It was exactly what I thought. I didn't come here to be a hero, honestly."
"Why are you here?" It was blunt but Jean could have done anything and she was... here.
Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. "Revenge. Vengeance. Whichever sounds better," she said, watching her breath mist in the air. "If I get to do some other random hero spy stuff in the meantime, sounds fun."
Artie stopped, shook his head. Jean had been kidnapped and tortured by the Hellfire Club. For years. "Uh. Shit. Sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that."
"It's cool," Jean said with a smirk. "Everyone's got their own reasons. Mine are just a little petty, but I own up to it."
"I mean, some people might say they were justified. The prof wouldn't, but I'm on his shit list at the moment for being willing to work with you lot while I recover."
"Psh, he'll get over it," Jean said, waving the thought away with her hand. "If it weren't for us, Charles would have to get his hands dirty. He likes to appear like he's the bigger, better person. So he'll huff and puff but he won't ever blow the house down."
Artie laughed silently. "I guess."
Jean smilled, gently nudging him. "C'mon. We want to get to where we're going before our food gets cold. And we've still got spy things to do."
Siege Perilous Day 5 - Jubilee takes a break in her research to contact an old friend for a personal favour.
Jubilee flicked the lights on as she slowly moved to the chair in her office, taking a moment to water the small fern Felicia and North had gotten her some time ago. Last month? She couldn't remember, there'd been a joke about giving her something to look after.
She looked down as her phone beeped and smiled wryly as she started flicking on the various computer screens where she did the majority of her work. Marie-Ange, it would seem, had decided shopping content was the means of today's chat.
They'd kept up, even after Jubilee had left the Forger's guild to join Remy in New York. Jubilee knew she was currently on contract to the Hellfire Club but with the truce, it hadn't a conflict of interest to keep in contact. Now, with the truce broken, she didn't know for sure. She'd have to wait and see how things played out.
Jubilee to Marie-Ange: “Isn't it a little early to be shopping?”
The response popped up quickly, the three dots of a message being typed not even appearing. "No. Before the shops open is the best time. No crowds."
"Says you."
Jubilee's response was quick, much like she'd been once upon a time. She rubbed the back of her neck and opened up the query she'd been running all night. It had been searching for links between Illyana Rasputin and the Darkhold. Not that she expected much to come up, they had other people working on better angles but she'd never been able to leave a mystery unsolved.
"I like the crowds. Just what kind of shopping are you doing anyway, I thought you had enough shoes by now."
Jubilee's phone lit up with several messages in reply. A picture of teal and silver high heels, bright but elegant all the same, and then a voice message that simply said "pfft.", and then finally an actual text message. "No such thing. Could you say the same about computers no." followed by an emoji, the smile's tongue sticking out.
Jubilee sent back a poop emoji followed by a one eyed winky face with tongue poking out and flicked on another screen to check on a personal project.
She could pay attention to more than one thing at once, and this one in particular had been trying to track down exactly who had been responsible for Kyle’s death. She didn’t want just ‘The HFC’, she wanted the person responsible. She had enough money to hire an assassin that could be traced to them once she knew that.
They were well hidden, that’s all she knew but she’d had time to gain skill and she certainly wasn’t without some patience.
“Shoes are not computers. But I suppose I can pay that. How much longer they going to have you sequestered to HFC?”
*do what now* The text came quickly, followed by *I do not talk about work on this line. Meet me at the russian tea spot*
==
By the time Jubilee got herself out of the office, the sun was coming up, and Marie-Ange had taken over a table at the tea house, blinis and tea and little smoked salmon sandwiches on a platter despite the dawn hours, and the lack of staff. The door wasn't even unlocked - she had to get up and unlock it for Jubilee, holding it open long enough for the shorter woman to limp through the door. Then she closed it and locked it once more. "My contract with the Hellfire Club is not exclusive, provided that whomever you want me to look into making less alive is not part of the Inner Circle, or someone I have been asked to not target directly."
It was clear that despite the texts, and the shopping bag on the third chair, she had not been shopping. Marie-Ange's hair was pulled into a flat bun, and she was still wearing cargo pants in dusty grey, and the jacket on the back of her chair matched.
“No one as high as that, albeit the bastard is with them." Jubilee replied before taking a sip of the iced tea Marie-Ange had set aside for her. She wasn't afraid of poison, her friend would never accept a bounty on her head without at least doing her the courtesy of giving her a head start. "I found out who took out Kyle. That gravity manipulating prick."
Marie-Ange's head tilted to the side, quizzically, as she went over what she cared to remember of Jubilee's past. "The boyfriend? With the..." She mimed towards her ears. "Oh, yes I suppose it would take something like that, he had a healing mutation." She wrinkled up her nose, thinking and then puffed out her cheeks. "I am not certain I can take the contract directly, but if you mean the man I think, get me a location. I know someone who would do it for a song."
Jubilee tapped her fingers absently as she thought about it, taking a cucumber sandwich and giving it a nibble before she answered.
“If I were being honest, I’d rather you do it but if you trust this person, I’ll take it. Will you work as the Broker or shall I contact them directly?”
Contracts were important in their line of work, especially amongst the members of the New Orleans Guilds. Friendship was well and good but business was business.
"It is not so much trust as I know the man, and I know what sort of people he hates. He is a hopeless romantic, and he has a particular loathing for anyone who would do that much damage to a school, and risk that many children just to send some kind of second hand message." She delicately nibbled a salmon sandwich and then sipped at her tea. "Jubilee, if I could, I would kill him for you myself, but this is the next best thing, and my..." She paused. "My particular friend, he is odd, and he is probably quite mad, but he will not go back on his word."
Jubilee reached over and squeezed Marie-Angie’s hand in a moment of comfort before pulling away and taking another sandwich. They’d known each other a long time, and through a lot of shit. She knew the value of their friendship, more than most.
“You’ve basically just described me. Give me his details. I can take it from here.”
"Just understand, he will want to meet in person, and it will not be nearly as classy as after hours Russian tea houses." Marie-Ange said, with a sly smile. "I hope you like tequila."
The sheets were soft and smooth and deliciously cool on Marie-Ange's overheated skin, but even so, she stretched one foot out from under them and wiggled her toes to catch the breeze from the air conditioner. "I am going to have more bruises from you than I did from Mister Strange..." She complained, with a sly grin. "I know he vexed you but really, darling, he was old. You do not need to compete with old men." She poked her toes into the also bare ankle of her partner, and wrinkled up her nose in a laugh. "You are so ticklish for someone so absurdly powerful."
That earned her a lazy swat from the half-dozing woman next to her. "Gerroff." Then a tousled blonde head appeared from the pile of pillows. "And I wasn't competing. He just gets up my nose. Well, got up my nose." She snorted and nudged Marie-Ange with her foot. "That's one less old bugger in the world, thanks to you."
"It is too bad you could not keep the cloak. Ugh, how could such a thing be so much like a guard dog?" Marie-Ange sat up a little. "I should buy you something pretty with my paycheque I will get from that job. He had so many people who wanted him dead, or worse. We did turn down one of the contracts, they wanted us to ship the body to Wallachia, and..." She made a disgusted face, tongue out and nose screwed up. "Besides that being disgusting, it is disrespectful to the target. We made a lot of money off him, the least we can do is not let someone do horrible things to the body."
Amanda shrugged one shoulder. "They could turn him into dog food for all I care," she said, with an edge to her voice that showed she did care, very much. Only with Marie-Ange did she allow herself these small slips. "Still, him being dead does mean we have to get the Soulsword the hard way - actually looking for the host."
Amanda had heard the giggle that Marie-Ange let loose probably a dozen times before, just in this night alone, but not quite with the edge of disbelief. "I am ever so glad that is mostly not in my hands. Happy to help, but my contract does not cover a wild goose chase for a magic sword." Nonetheless, she sat up more, sheets slipping around her waist as she rested her elbows on the mattress. "I know it makes me sound air-headed, but remind me again why you want it?" She believed in magic, she saw it most nights, many days, and some days it left rug burns on her knees, but she really tuned out when the Hellfire types started tracking bits of it down. Art, certainly. She would talk art with them all day, but when the topic turned to chasing down magic artefacts, she begged off. It reminded her too much of things left hundreds of miles south, and years behind her.
"What else? Selene wants more power." Amanda rolled over onto her back, putting her hands under her head. "You weren't here back when we had that girl from Xavier's, the one with the pink hair and the pixie wings? Well, turned out she had part of her soul turned into this dagger - a mini version of what we're looking for now. With a bit of persuasion, she gave us the whole story, plus the dagger. Well, not so much gave - Selene took it from her with this ritual. Gave her a massive power boost and now she wants the adult version so she can finish off the X geezer and the rest of the white hats and put an end to this bloody war. All we need is Illyana Rasputin."
"Rasputin?" Now Marie-Ange sat up completely, the languid posture dropping away as she moved. She crossed her legs, and rested her elbows on her knees. "You had a girl from Xavier's School, and now you are looking for a Rasputin." She shook her head, one eye blinking closed. "Tell me about this Illyana, because... I was at that school. I knew a Rasputin. Big man, rather, um, you'd probably have called him a wanker. Turned into steel and oh did he ever have an ego about it."
Amanda's eyebrow rose and she propped herself up on her elbows, looking intently at Marie-Ange. The eye twitch... she'd learned what it meant. "Illyana Rasputin," she repeated. "Russian national, youngest of three. She had two older brothers, much older..." As she spoke, she sat up further and reached for the nightstand drawer without taking her eyes from Marie-Ange, and pulled a set of tarot cards from the drawer.
Marie-Ange let her head fall back to glare at the ceiling. "I hate it. I hate it, it gives me a migraine, it makes me throw up." She protested, but reached a hand out for the deck of cards. "The last time I burst a blood vessel in my eye." She shuffled the deck once, expertly, and then looked down at her hands as though they'd done something to offend. "I am sorry, darling, I am not doing this naked." She dropped the cards on the bed, stood and wiggled into a pair of yoga pants and a slinky tank top.
She cut the deck once she had sat back down, flipped three cards and then groaned. "I think this... " She tapped one of the cards. "The Emperor, upside down is inflexibility, or being controlling?" Marie-Ange pulled her hair off her neck, already frustrated. "This is why I never do this. It is so much extra. So. If that one is... oh, bugger, what was his name. Petros? Pietro? He was certainly a controlling type..." She flicked a finger at the next card. "This one I know, seven of swords. Sneaky tactics, deception, strategy. A lot of those Russian mafia types in Bed-Stuy have tattoos of it. I've killed a lot of them."
"Maybe he's in the mafia? None of them ever threatened me with an annoying stuck-up metal arsehole though, and this card makes no sense with the rest." She pointed to the last card. "This one is supposed to be... well, it might come up for us, sex and magic and attachment, if I were going to do readings for us." Another pause as Marie-Ange considered the card, and the devil drawn on it. "Which I am not. I do not want to throw up on your shoes again."
"Takes more than vomit to damage a pair of Docs," came Amanda's soothing reply. She considered the cards, and the information that had accompanied them. "So there's definitely a connection with Xavier's Homes for Wayward Mutants," she continued. "I was already thinking we could try the Cypher for some more info, but now I'm sure. He's got connections there as well and isn't well known - there's your seven of swords. Better than me going through their security for their files, any way. They started things, but trespassing would be a bit of a blatant breach of the treaty." She moved so she was sitting next to Marie-Ange on the side of the bed and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You, Angie, are bloody brilliant, and you've saved my arse."
"You can thank me by getting dressed..." Marie-Ange leaned into the kiss, and then rested her head on Amanda's shoulder. "I am hungry, and I want midnight pitas food. Hummus settles my stomach." She wrinkled her nose at Amanda, with a smile. "Wait, The Cypher also knows the mansion people? Bugger. I have bought information from him, and I would never have guessed. Well, no matter. I left so early that I have few good memories of the place. I think I remember more hating half my classmates and feeling like it was a cult."
"You were better off out of there," Amanda agreed as she got up and started hunting for her clothes, scattered all over the room. "Cypher knows everyone, that's his job. You can't trust him off the books, but once he's bought, he stays bought. Just depends on the reward." She snorted at the thought of Clea having to offer herself to him. "And if he turns on us... well, that's easy enough to deal with." She yanked a silk shirt down over her head, threatening to tear the buttonholes with the strain on the still-buttoned front. "But that's enough shop talk. Between the magic and the fucking, 'm bloody starving. Let's go get shwarma."
Siege Perilous Day 3 - X-Force’s research team - Jubilee and Charlie Plunder - combine their respective skills to try and come up with something.
Jubilee dropped a set of dusty books in front of Charlie and slid with a groan into the seat opposite him.
No matter how much rehab she did over the years, her legs still ached at the change of weather and the weather was indeed changing. Rain had been forecast for tomorrow but Jubilee had known about it well before then.
She slid open the light weight laptop she’d placed in front of her earlier and started the boot sequence. “Tell me you’ve already found something so I can go have a hot bath.”
"I found a lot of things. Many things." Charlie rubbed the end of his nose absently. "Many terrible and fantastical things.... sorry, seriously though, the Darkhold Strange mentioned is... a book. A rare powerful tome of magic that has been lost for centuries. Kind of a Necronomicon except not utter bullshit. I don't see how it applies to the girl he was tracking."
“Sorry dude, that means you’re off my Christmas list. Let me see if witchtok has anything to say.” It was half a joke and half serious, the majority of covens seemed to have at least one TikTok account between them these days, although the validity of anything you found there was questionable at best. Still, it gave her an in to certain people who might otherwise have been insular and distrustful. “Do your books show who last had it?”
"Who hasn't? I've got everyone from Alastair Crowley to HP Lovecraft supposedly having it. Here's a vampire lord from New England, a witch in Salam, the PharmaBro... it's a myth, Lee. If it is real, it's popular enough an idea that tracking it through text is about as reliable as finding the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant."
“Strange didn’t seem like the type of dude who’d pull a prank with his dying breath. Also, vampire lord? Like, vampires are real?”
Jubilee fired off a quick query to her contacts, poking at the ones she could see were currently online.
“What about your people? They know anything? Or like, Adam? He trained with that scary bitch didn’t he? Why the hell would the Hellfire club break a truce for something that’s a myth?”
"Because it isn't a myth, but we have no idea what it is." Charlie shook his head. "Imagine you're looking for something valuable, but only you know what is valuable."
“Least we don’t need to be careful anymore now they’ve broken the truce. Dibs on slashing that bitch’s throat next time we see her.” Jubilee tapped out an answer to one of her contacts, reading their response quickly. “Wait, didn’t Wanda say something else as well? Like ‘order out of chaos’? What the heck would a book have to do with that?”
"Look, dial it back, Lee. We don't know what the book means. If it means anything."
“Yeah, sorry. I’m a fan of mystery shows. This stuff is like crack to me, Dude. So, records of the Darkhold, yeah? I could dive in, see if anyone ever auctioned the thing? If it ever passed hands via money, I can find it.”
"It's the wrong way to look at it. If someone told you they had Thor's Hammer? We can't take any of those transactions seriously. We need to look deeper."
"That's all you, Charles in Charge. I'm like, about as deep as a kiddie pool." Jubilee pulled up maps and hacked her way into Interpol, pausing her never-ending stream of consciousness for the space that it took. Even Jubilee's power of speech took second fiddle to the Wizkids of international policing. "So, what is the Darkhold then? I mean, if you can't find it, maybe you can like, find out about it? I'm already running search strings on this Illyana name we got."
"It's... well, a bit of a myth, really." He rubbed the tip of his nose absently. "OK, you've heard of the Necronomican? All the secrets of dark magic, wrapped in human skin, and complete bullshit. Well, the Darkhold is kinda like that except we know it exists. Or it existed. But there hasn't been really proof in centuries of it. It's like the boogie man every time something weird happens magically that you can't explain? Well, it becomes about the Darkhold. So it's almost impossible to figure out what sightings and research is real and what is just bullshit conspiracy nonsense. So we can't just look for the normal sightings and incidences. We need a way to sort through the noise." Despite her claims, he knew Jubilee knew and understood a lot more about magical theory than she claimed. Pillowtalk alone revealed that.
“So standard reference searches and Boolean strings ain’t gonna do it then.” Jubilee mused, pausing in her search as she pondered what might work. She’d been doing research on various things since she was in short pants, it’s what had attracted her to the Forger’s Guild. Same sort of meticulous attention to detail. “What are the commonalities? Are there things that only the Darkhold seems to have about it? Like, it always shows up at natural disasters or something like that?”
"I wish. The biggest common factor is that it tends to columenate with some event and then disappear for ages. Like maybe it needs to be recharged or something."
"Alright, well, he also mentioned the name Illyana. Can't be a coincidence. Although, I'm not sure what we're gonna be able to do with only a first name. Your books mention her at all? And what kind of big events? We talking mini apocalypse or what?"
Jubilee sounded frustrated for a moment, not sure how to move forward but if the whole big event thing was accurate then what big events were due? She didn't like the sound of that one bit, not given that the Hellfire Club had broken all truces in order to get this information from Strange. Marie-Ange had been involved as well, Jubilee had recognised her signature from the drone footage she'd pulled on their way out of that cluster fuck.
"According to Strange’s few logical references, this Illyana is linked to the Soulsword, which is a completely different kettle of magical fish. It’s the tool of leadership for the realm of Limbo. The Hellfire Club took the Souldagger from your classmate Megan, which is a way to locate her. And she’s tied to the Darkhold?” Charlie shook his head. “That is a lot of magic tied to one person, Jubilee. Like, President of the world meets owner of Amazon power. If we're going to find out what this Illyana knows, we need to get her. There's too many questions for our normal research to figure things out."
“Wait, I’ve got an idea. When was the last time the Darkhold was seen? Like, the very, very last time? Like, linked with an event that we can cross reference?”
"1871. In Prussia."
“Well that’s a bit shit. Did they even keep records of people that far back? Any indication of where in Prussia? Maybe we can cross reference immigration data or something. It’s a fucking long shot but it’s not like we’ve got anything better to go on. Maybe there’ll be a record of weird deaths or something.”
"I wish. It's a starting point, I guess." Charlie said. "Let's go from there."
Siege Perilous Day 4 - The next day, Clea and Amanda pay a visit to Astriel, a member of the magical underground.
TW: torture; death
Pulling up to the innocent looking house, Clea gave a hard look. "Wards. In the four corners. Seems that Astriel has been busy lately. Shall we?" Clea looked over at Amanda, "Good cop bad cop? Or just bad cop?"
"Honey might catch more flies than vinegar, but a bug zapper works better than both," Amanda replied, letting the driver open the door for her before stepping out. "Let's go in hard and put the fear of whatever fuzzy Wiccan deity they worship into them." Her mood was less than good after the dressing-down Selene had given her and she was wanting to pass it on.
Clea nodded, "Sounds like a plan." Getting out of the car she went up to the edge where the wards were standing strong and then forced her way in. She came up to the door and made a hand gesture as purple flames circled and the door opened, "Knock knock. Pardon the intrusion but we have some questions to ask and we're both in a bad mood."
There was a muffled sound of surprise and shock, followed by the smell of brimstone. "Teleport spell," she said sourly. "Short range one, tho'. They won't be far." She strode into what seemed to be a normal small house, albeit one crammed with books and papers and occult type items from floor to ceiling. Her boots rang out on the floor, then made a more hollow sort of sound and Amanda stopped. "Well, well. Looks like the magical underground took the name literally." She glanced at Clea. "Tear it up. I want to know what's down there."
Clea looked down at the floor and cast a spell that literally tore up a hole in the floor. She knelt down to look inside, "Seems to be a short tunnel system. I hear things further down."
"Rats in a trap," responded Amanda with a humourless smile. She dropped down into the hole and snapped her fingers, summoning a werelight. "Off you go," she told it, flicking it down the tunnel ahead of her. The small ball of light sullenly drifted down into the darkness, revealing walls and ceiling lined with old floorboards and packing crates, braced with larger pieces of wood here and there. "Looks like they went old school to avoid the magical signature," Amanda reflected to Clea as she began to follow the light. "Clever of them."
Clea smirked before moving to dropping down into the hole behind Amanda. "Look, another ward." She pointed at the shimmering symbols on the walls. "What are they afraid of? Maybe they do know what we desire."
"Or they're worried about Selene getting peckish," replied Amanda with a snort. She dispelled the ward, perhaps not quite so much with the ease Clea might have shown, but it still dissolved into nothing. "Well, that's rung the doorbell. Let's see who answers."
There was movement up ahead as the pair entered the old school. Though Clea couldn't see anyone, she felt their eyes. "Alright. We have some questions, so come on out and play nice." She yelled out.
The response was a series of fireballs, each no bigger than a baseball but coming in fast and hot. Amanda stepped back behind Clea. "Apparently they think they can fight this. Not the brightest decision they could have made."
Clea lifted her hand as the fireballs hit an invisible wall, "Silly." With a hand movement purple flames burst forth at her fingertips, "Let me show them out it is done. Vado" The flames left her hands and rushed down the corridor, lighting the way down. Moments later there was some yelling and movement.
"And apparently they only have one exit. Really silly," reflected Amanda as shapes began to come towards them, coughing in the smoke left by Clea's fireballs hitting something obviously flammable. "Gotcha." She clapped her hands together and created a shield around the nearest person, a woman with stark white skin. "Astriel," Amanda said with a smile. "Long time, no see. You haven't been avoiding us, have you?"
"Of course not..." Within the bubble Astriel was trying to stand upright and look dignified, which wasn't easy when your clothes are still smoldering. "What can the coven do for the Hellfire Club?"
"We are looking for someone by the name of Illyana Rasputin." Clea got straight to the point. "And I wouldn't recommend lying to us...wouldn't want to get anyone else involved." The white haired witch looked behind Astriel, "A few dozen is it?"
"No, nothing near those numbers. Seventeen, mostly minor hedge witches and the like," Astriel hastened to reply. "But the name Rasputin... I don't believe I've heard it before."
Amanda looked her over. "Maybe not," she said, considering the reply. "But you'll know the Soulsword, won't you?"
"That's blackest magic. We would never get involved with something like..." Astriel realised what she was about to say. "That is, we're too weak to meddle with something so powerful."
"So you do know about it. Any word on where it is?" Almost with a bored air, Amanda gestured and the bubble shrank to half its size, making Astriel hunch up to make room for herself.
"No! I don't know where it is, I swear!"
Amanda cocked her eyebrow. "You know, I didn't quite catch that. Clea, can you do something about the noise back there?"
The witch immediately teleported from view before the sounds of chaos erupted behind Astriel.
"No, no..." Followed by screams and something exploding.
"Where were we? Oh, that's right, you were telling me that there's word in the magical underground about the Soulsword." Amanda's expression was impassive as she met Astriel's eyes.
"But I don't know anything!" the other witch almost wailed.
Amanda looked back towards the chamber where her apprentice was. "Clea? Still a bit rowdy over here."
Another sound of something exploding, more screams followed by cries echoed down the hallway. "They just don't know how to shut up." Clea called out to her answer. "Should I just burn it all?"
"No need, pet," Amanda replied to Clea. She looked again at Astriel. "Astriel's remembered about Illyana, haven't you?"
Astriel gulped, tears streaming from her eyes. "Yes," she finally whispered.
Siege Perilous Day 4 - Kevin and Natasha seek out potential leads among the Russian mafia.
When the first indications of Russian involvement had appeared, Natasha brushed it off as some overzealous fans of foreign countries, but as more information funneled into their hands, the more it looked like it was the actual Russian mafia involved. As long ago as she'd left Mother Russia, Mother Russia seemed determined to bring her back into its clutches no matter the situation.
They were back at X-Force HQ looking through the various files and cases that'd accumulated over the last year to see if there were any connections. Natasha was running a background trace on mafia associates and recent travel into the States and she also had feelers out with her network to see what the current rumors were.
"I'm telling you, it's not the Russians running this. They might be involved in the pipeline but their occult days disappeared when the bottom dropped out financially twenty years ago. Ever since... Baranov was killed in 2012, they haven't even been in the illegal artifact market." Kevin said, as he flipped through files on his laptop. The spy spoke with the experience of decades out of his too young face. "I think we need to focus on them moving a who, not a what."
"If it's not the Russians, it's someone that's mimicking their tactics down to the letter." Natasha frowned and typed in a couple keywords, seeing who might delight in throwing shade at the Russians. "My outlook's been a bit myopic since my defection. Who're you thinking it is? I've got a list in my head but none of them have the kinds of resources and precautions it would take to move an artifact this valuable, much less a person."
"Moving a person is more their style, really. What if they moved her but she made arrangements for this Darkhold separately?" Kevin rubbed his eyes for a moment. "You know, I sometimes miss the Cold War. I've have the answer within five phone calls, three agencies and inside an hour. So let's say she's decided to move herself independently and needs a safe pipeline to Strange, at which point they... I don't know, teleport the book to them on a rainbow made of puppies and leprechauns later. Which Russian mob is operating the travel service into the five boroughs these days from the old country?"
“And some days I feel like I was born in the wrong decade. Wouldn’t trade the tech for anything though with how much easier it makes our lives.” Natasha tapped her fingers along the edge of the keyboard as she pondered the question. “First one that comes to mind are the Med’ved, aspiring to be more than they are by playing on the old folklore. If not them, then the Vuk are the next suspects. Started off a bit bumbling but have started to lean into the more villainous aspects of their folklore namesake.”
"Russian crime families branding themselves like fucking supervillains. Jesus, the old traditions really have gone to shit. Lenin must be spinning so fast they can use his tomb to power the Kremlin." Kevin shook his head. "The girl is a Russian national, could easily come through on a normal travel visa... so they likely moved her covertly over land through Europe and flew her over from a hub airport. Maybe even a limited charter. Let's start with the smaller airports within a three hour radius we know the Russians have influence in."
"Mother Russia had to modernize when the USSR fell after all. The power vacuums and the squabbling for what remained of the crime family apparatus left plenty of scraps for those not attached to the old ways. The fast money and easy jump out of squalor motivated a lot of people." Natasha shrugged. It'd been prettied up when it'd been drilled into her head but her voracious reading once she'd defected had given her a more well rounded view of things. "Still more than I would like, especially with our resources spread as thin as they are."
"Strange didn't leave us a lot of choice when he died. I'll take upstate, you start on New Jersey. That should cover the most likely suspects."
Siege Perilous Day 5 - Artie and Jean carry on the day-to-day business of X-Force and discuss their respective choices to be part of their teams.
Artie walked - limped - down the street, coffee in one hand. "You said the drop point is in the kitchen of a noodle place?" he asked. "Isn't that kind of obvious?" The place was three shops away and he paused, pulling his phone out and glancing at the screen. The place was tiny and only held a half dozen little tables, all crammed in. Maybe it worked when you bought a secret item on the menu or asked for someone.
"Would you prefer a burger joint?" came the reply from behind him as Jean closed the gap and fell in alongside him. "I hate smelling like grease." She yawned, evidence of bags under her eyes. "Besides, they make great lo mein."
He stopped and turned the volume on his synthesiser right down before saying "I always thought it would be more subtle, you know? Not just slipping the cook an envelope of cash after we order lunch."
"It depends on the place. Some people like to get creative. Mr. Sung's about as subtle as Remy LeBeau's accent," Jean said, rifling through her purse for a hair tie before pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "Everyone knows not to fuck with him or his restaurant, so his shop's a good middle ground drop point."
"Crazy." Artie shook his head. "Always thought there'd be more trenchcoats, less affordably priced business casual."
20 minutes later they had left the noodle shop with three to go bags, with only two of them having food in them. It was a good, delicious cover. "Hand off is in about two hours. Gives us plenty of time to eat," Jean said.
"You want to stop by the park?"
Artie nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He was still bemused by the noodle handover. "You know, when I agreed to come work here for six months while I rehabbed my leg, I didn't think it would be like this at all."
Jean smirked. "I did. What did you think it would be like?" she said.
"James Bond. I thought I'd have clandestine meetings in casinos with a martini and then a shoot out."
"Well you got the last part right," Jean said with a laugh that sent her breath misting into the chilly winter air. "Do you not like it?"
"It's ... a lot more complicated than I thought. I mean, things are pretty clear on the X-Men, but I'm on the injured roster so here I am, trying to be a good guy despite everything. What about you? Is it what you thought?"
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Jean shrugged. "It was exactly what I thought. I didn't come here to be a hero, honestly."
"Why are you here?" It was blunt but Jean could have done anything and she was... here.
Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. "Revenge. Vengeance. Whichever sounds better," she said, watching her breath mist in the air. "If I get to do some other random hero spy stuff in the meantime, sounds fun."
Artie stopped, shook his head. Jean had been kidnapped and tortured by the Hellfire Club. For years. "Uh. Shit. Sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that."
"It's cool," Jean said with a smirk. "Everyone's got their own reasons. Mine are just a little petty, but I own up to it."
"I mean, some people might say they were justified. The prof wouldn't, but I'm on his shit list at the moment for being willing to work with you lot while I recover."
"Psh, he'll get over it," Jean said, waving the thought away with her hand. "If it weren't for us, Charles would have to get his hands dirty. He likes to appear like he's the bigger, better person. So he'll huff and puff but he won't ever blow the house down."
Artie laughed silently. "I guess."
Jean smilled, gently nudging him. "C'mon. We want to get to where we're going before our food gets cold. And we've still got spy things to do."
Siege Perilous Day 5 - Jubilee takes a break in her research to contact an old friend for a personal favour.
Jubilee flicked the lights on as she slowly moved to the chair in her office, taking a moment to water the small fern Felicia and North had gotten her some time ago. Last month? She couldn't remember, there'd been a joke about giving her something to look after.
She looked down as her phone beeped and smiled wryly as she started flicking on the various computer screens where she did the majority of her work. Marie-Ange, it would seem, had decided shopping content was the means of today's chat.
They'd kept up, even after Jubilee had left the Forger's guild to join Remy in New York. Jubilee knew she was currently on contract to the Hellfire Club but with the truce, it hadn't a conflict of interest to keep in contact. Now, with the truce broken, she didn't know for sure. She'd have to wait and see how things played out.
Jubilee to Marie-Ange: “Isn't it a little early to be shopping?”
The response popped up quickly, the three dots of a message being typed not even appearing. "No. Before the shops open is the best time. No crowds."
"Says you."
Jubilee's response was quick, much like she'd been once upon a time. She rubbed the back of her neck and opened up the query she'd been running all night. It had been searching for links between Illyana Rasputin and the Darkhold. Not that she expected much to come up, they had other people working on better angles but she'd never been able to leave a mystery unsolved.
"I like the crowds. Just what kind of shopping are you doing anyway, I thought you had enough shoes by now."
Jubilee's phone lit up with several messages in reply. A picture of teal and silver high heels, bright but elegant all the same, and then a voice message that simply said "pfft.", and then finally an actual text message. "No such thing. Could you say the same about computers no." followed by an emoji, the smile's tongue sticking out.
Jubilee sent back a poop emoji followed by a one eyed winky face with tongue poking out and flicked on another screen to check on a personal project.
She could pay attention to more than one thing at once, and this one in particular had been trying to track down exactly who had been responsible for Kyle’s death. She didn’t want just ‘The HFC’, she wanted the person responsible. She had enough money to hire an assassin that could be traced to them once she knew that.
They were well hidden, that’s all she knew but she’d had time to gain skill and she certainly wasn’t without some patience.
“Shoes are not computers. But I suppose I can pay that. How much longer they going to have you sequestered to HFC?”
*do what now* The text came quickly, followed by *I do not talk about work on this line. Meet me at the russian tea spot*
==
By the time Jubilee got herself out of the office, the sun was coming up, and Marie-Ange had taken over a table at the tea house, blinis and tea and little smoked salmon sandwiches on a platter despite the dawn hours, and the lack of staff. The door wasn't even unlocked - she had to get up and unlock it for Jubilee, holding it open long enough for the shorter woman to limp through the door. Then she closed it and locked it once more. "My contract with the Hellfire Club is not exclusive, provided that whomever you want me to look into making less alive is not part of the Inner Circle, or someone I have been asked to not target directly."
It was clear that despite the texts, and the shopping bag on the third chair, she had not been shopping. Marie-Ange's hair was pulled into a flat bun, and she was still wearing cargo pants in dusty grey, and the jacket on the back of her chair matched.
“No one as high as that, albeit the bastard is with them." Jubilee replied before taking a sip of the iced tea Marie-Ange had set aside for her. She wasn't afraid of poison, her friend would never accept a bounty on her head without at least doing her the courtesy of giving her a head start. "I found out who took out Kyle. That gravity manipulating prick."
Marie-Ange's head tilted to the side, quizzically, as she went over what she cared to remember of Jubilee's past. "The boyfriend? With the..." She mimed towards her ears. "Oh, yes I suppose it would take something like that, he had a healing mutation." She wrinkled up her nose, thinking and then puffed out her cheeks. "I am not certain I can take the contract directly, but if you mean the man I think, get me a location. I know someone who would do it for a song."
Jubilee tapped her fingers absently as she thought about it, taking a cucumber sandwich and giving it a nibble before she answered.
“If I were being honest, I’d rather you do it but if you trust this person, I’ll take it. Will you work as the Broker or shall I contact them directly?”
Contracts were important in their line of work, especially amongst the members of the New Orleans Guilds. Friendship was well and good but business was business.
"It is not so much trust as I know the man, and I know what sort of people he hates. He is a hopeless romantic, and he has a particular loathing for anyone who would do that much damage to a school, and risk that many children just to send some kind of second hand message." She delicately nibbled a salmon sandwich and then sipped at her tea. "Jubilee, if I could, I would kill him for you myself, but this is the next best thing, and my..." She paused. "My particular friend, he is odd, and he is probably quite mad, but he will not go back on his word."
Jubilee reached over and squeezed Marie-Angie’s hand in a moment of comfort before pulling away and taking another sandwich. They’d known each other a long time, and through a lot of shit. She knew the value of their friendship, more than most.
“You’ve basically just described me. Give me his details. I can take it from here.”
"Just understand, he will want to meet in person, and it will not be nearly as classy as after hours Russian tea houses." Marie-Ange said, with a sly smile. "I hope you like tequila."
