Disclaimer: The X-Men and related characters are the property of Marvel Comics and are used without permission. This is a non-profit making work of fan-fiction.
 
 

Chapter Nineteen – Food for Thought

It had been over an hour since anyone had spoken. Of the three, Jubilee was the only one aware of this because she was the only one wearing a watch. It was a cheap, tacky affair – a bright red plastic strap and a Mickey Mouse logo on its face – but it was one of Jubilation's most treasured possessions. It had been given to her by Cynjen – Cynthia Jennifer – her best friend back in Encino. They had terrorised the malls together, fire on wheels, always one step ahead of the law, always having the time of their lives. That was before Jubes had zigged when she should have zagged and got cornered by the cops, before she had become literal fire on wheels, before she discovered she was a mutant. Things could never be the same after that, but that only made the memories more precious.

Cynjen had disappeared when she learned her best friend was a mutant. Jubilee had made no effort to trace her. She had wished she could run away from it to. Some might say she was genetically-gifted, blessed with abilities beyond those of normal humans, destined to be an architect of a grand new future. The reality of the Homo superior was rather different. It was the hate groups and the persecutions. The fear and the violence. And it was not just the minority that turned against mutants – mutants were the minority. Some might say it was dangerous to rile a mutant given the power at their disposal, but the honest truth? How could one mutant hope to stand against the millions of fearful, hateful 'normal' humans out there? And the saddest part: normal people were hateful, prejudiced bigots.

Jubilee did not blame her, but that did not alter the fact that Cynjen had turned her back on her friend. Jubilee could not do that.

'We're going to rescue Rahne,' she announced, the words leaving her lips before she had even realised she had come to a decision.

'And how are we supposed to do that, Sparky?' Paige was sitting next to Jono at the end of the bed. 'Something's blocking our mutant powers, remember.'

It was true, Paige's skin refused to husk, Jubilee could not summon a single pitiful spark and Jono, although his chamber still blazed and allowed him to talk, could not unleash his bio-blasts. This 'cell' was clearly better equipped than their last.

'Whassup, country mouse, since when did you get so defeatist.' Jubilee got to her feet. 'We don't need our powers to take down these clowns, Sean taught us better than that – hell, so did Frost.'

'Okay, so what do we do?' Chamber had brightened at the hope, however faint, that they could recover Rahne.

'We hit 'em when they come in with the food.' Jubilee shrugged. 'Hey, it works in the movies.'

* * *

The monorail carriage lurched as it swung round the junction. Within, Kate gripped the vertical pole for support. She had one arm around Annie, keeping the teenager upright. Annie could have taken care of herself, of course, but Kate felt that now was not the time to reveal to Manhattanites that the blind could see. Kate was wearing a loose tracksuit over her uniform; Annie simply concealed hers beneath a dark overcoat and used her powers to telepathically increase the normal level of disinterest in New York's evening travellers. Something about this casual use of power disturbed Kate, but there was too much else for her to worry about right now. They both knew how important this mission was; Kate could feel the anticipation coming off Annie in waves. But there was something else there as well, a hint of...malice? A more alert, more rational Katherine Pryde might have noticed this and started to wonder if there was more to the disturbing sensation other people felt around Wraith than just being 'spooked'. A younger Kitty Pryde would have been driven by her insatiable curiosity to investigate the inconsistencies surrounding her teammate long before now. But Kate was neither alert, rational or young any more. She had seen someone die on her watch. She had lost five team members. The first mistake would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she could correct the latter. She had to. All that mattered to her right now was willing the monorail to move faster.

* * *

They almost got away with it, but while art may imitate life it seems that life cannot imitate art.

Jono sat across from the door, as far away from it as possible while still being in the line of sight of whoever opened it, and tried to look non-threatening. The girls had taken up positions on either side of the door. The minutes turned into hours and both women started to get cramp, but neither dared to move. Then, the door opened.

There were two maids and no guards. Any other details were unimportant at the moment. Jubilee sprung from behind the door and extended her collapsible bo-staff. The end rammed straight into the stomach of the nearest maid. As she doubled over, Jubilee finished the job with a swift chop to the base of the girl's skull. Paige dropped her maid with brutal efficiency, smashing a large vase on her head. Briefly she hoped that it had not been expensive, but suspected that it probably was. Then she wondered why she was concerned for the property of the Hellfire Club. Must be her upbringing, she decided.

Jono was on the floor, investigating the contents of the fallen dinner trays.

'Can't escape on an empty stomach,' he announced.

'You don't eat,' Paige pointed out. Jono's entire digestive tract was now a collection of free-floating plasma waves.

'Sure, rub it in,' the British mutant muttered, eyeing the food enviously.

Jubilee had joined him on the floor and was poking at the salvageable food with a fork. 'He's right,' she said between mouthfuls, 'it is good. Shame to let it go to waste.'

Paige sighed. 'Okay, okay,' she acquiesced, 'I suppose we can eat on the run.'

Jubilee was already spooning food onto a plate.

'Take-out. My favourite.'

* * *

'Thank ye kindly.'

The footman, in velvet and an absurd white wig, ignored the lilting Irish voice. He proved similarly unaffected by sparkling green eyes, flame red curls or a dazzling smile. Theresa snagged a flute of champagne from his tray anyway. As an afterthought she claimed one for Bobby too. The hall was huge, not just in terms of length, but in height as well. And this was not the only room the party had taken over. Terry found it difficult to believe how many members of the Hellfire Club there actually were. Of course, most of them were completely unaware of the activities of the club's Inner Circle. There were just here for a good time. Pleasure was something the Hellfire Club delivered in spades. No activities seemed too degrading or debauched if they brought pleasure to a member. Theresa was relieved to note, however, that most of the guests seemed to be here just for the food and the chance to mix with the upper echelons of society. She did not want to stand out, but there were some things she was not prepared to do to maintain her cover.

It was remarkable how many people she actually recognised. If she had a camera she could make a fortune selling the photos – and probably throw the Senate into total chaos at the same time. Politicians, sportsman, film stars, celebrities of every description graced this gathering; it would have been a paparazzo's dream. There was no chance of that though; all guests had been searched thoroughly when they had arrived. A bit too thoroughly in Theresa's opinion, but with all these names present she could understand the need for security. And Bobby's membership card had got them in and that was the important thing. They probably thought he was some kind of property tycoon like his father. Lord knows what they thought she was – probably best if she did not think about it.

Draining the last of her champagne, she swapped it for a fresh glass before going to look for Bobby. He was not that difficult to spot. He had chosen to wear a white dinner jacket with a red carnation in the buttonhole because it 'made him feel the part'. Once he had got over his initial reluctance to infiltrate the Hellfire Club, due mainly to its connections to his late father, he got very enthusiastic about it. He revelled in all of this cloak and dagger stuff, even if he was not very good at it. Anyway, even in this crowd he stood out a mile. Sometimes Terry really envied male superheroes; they had no idea how difficult it was to conceal a combat uniform beneath a minidress, even a frighteningly expensive minidress.

It has been said that redheads are quick to anger, Irish redheads in particular. It is a description that could certainly have been applied to Theresa Rourke Cassidy. Who said Bobby could have fun without her? A rebellious curl of red-gold hair came loose and fell across her face, brushing the tip of her nose. She would have brushed it away, but both of her hands were holding champagne glasses. They must think I'm some sort of alcoholic, Terry mused vindictively, assuming anyone else had even noticed her. Her mood was not improved. Bobby, leaning slightly to one side and supporting himself with one palm pressed against a wall, was chatting to one of the maids. Probably enquiring about her wardrobe. Terry viewed sarcasm as a much-maligned talent. Knowing Bobby, he thought he was just making polite conversation – ever the innocent – but Theresa had no doubt about the girl's thoughts. She would have to rescue him once again. She smiled wickedly; perhaps something good could come out of this after all.

She tossed her head once to try and get the hair out of her eyes and strode confidently towards Bobby. She flashed him a dazzling smile, but did not even spare the maid a glance.

'Sorry I took so long, Bobby,' she announced, thrusting a glass into his hand and using the movement to put herself between Roberto and his new friend. 'Ye wouldn't believe how hard it is t'get refreshments round here. It's good t'see ye've been keeping yerself amused, though.' She turned to face the maid. They were of equal height, but Terry pulled herself up as straight as she could so that she could look down at the other woman. 'Thanks f'r keeping him company, lass, but I'm back now. Why don't ye just run along and find someone else t'charm?'

The maid did not need to be told twice.

'That was uncalled for, Terry,' Bobby complained.

Theresa shook her head sending waves of motion through her hair. 'Ye really haven't a clue, have ye 'Berto?' She laughed, but it was a musical sound with no hint of condescension or disparagement. Any annoyance she had felt a moment ago had given way to amusement, admittedly at her friend's expense. 'She'd have eaten y'alive.'

For a moment they sipped their champagne and shared a companionable silence. Until Kate and Annie made their move all they could do was wait and hope no one blew their cover. And, as with all good parties, when the lights went out the fireworks would really start.

But that was later. For now they could enjoy the party. After all, if they did not then they might draw attention to themselves.

'Y'know, I'd forgotten how much fun this could be,' Theresa said, eyeing the rest of the guests over the rim of her glass. Didn't he have a new film coming out next week? Should've brought my autograph book.

'Don't tell me you miss the good old days,' Bobby joked. He reached for a canapé and Theresa noticed for the first time how he had cunningly managed to position himself next to one of the buffet tables.

'What, ye mean risking life'n'limb with X-Force, trying t'save a world that'd rather I just dropped dead?' Terry reached for some of the food herself. 'O'course I miss it. They were great times; you, me, Sam, Dani, Tab and James, facing impossible odds and kicking 'em in the teeth until they stayed down. Making a life for ourselves even when no one else cared. Ye were my family, t'only family I ever really had, seein' as Daddy and I didn't meet until I turned seventeen. He tried, o'course he did, but the lot o'ye didn't have to. That's what I miss.'

'Even if it meant being shot at, beaten up, tortured and mind probed everyday of the week that started with a consonant?' Bobby jibed.

'Didn't anybody tell ye?' Theresa joked. 'A girl lives for the danger.'

'I would, too, if you would let me,' Bobby responded, letting his eyes drift back to the maid.

Terry elbowed him in the ribs and they both laughed.

'Would the Lady of the Manor care for a dance?' Bobby asked suddenly.

'Lady of the Manor, huh?' Terry mused. 'I'm not sure I like the sound of that; makes me sound like some old harridan.'

Bobby shrugged. 'Well, there aren't many girls that can claim to own a castle, are there? But for what it's worth, I don't think you're that old.'

Terry elbowed him in the ribs again. 'Watch it, buster, or I'll let that girl have her wicked way with ye. And ye can wipe that smirk of yer face, too. Now are we going t'have that dance or not?'

Setting his glass on the table, Bobby crooked his arm for her. Terry graciously accepted and Bobby started to lead the way into the next room where a live band was playing.

'I don't believe I ever told you,' Bobby said as they reached the doorway, 'you're beautiful when you're angry.'

Theresa blushed furiously and cursed herself for doing it. That only made her blush even more.

'Thank ye, I think,' she muttered, letting her hair fall to hide her face. 'And I don't think I told ye how much that beard suits ye. Ye look handsomer than ever, Roberto Da Costa.'

Terry took great pleasure in seeing Bobby's own cheeks darken in embarrassment.

* * *

Once again the nails scratched the skin of her upper arm. Once again that skin resolutely stayed put. Her skin might have been more likely to break had the nails not been bitten to the quick, but the sad truth was that Paige's mutant powers had yet to return. And without them she felt extremely vulnerable. Her outfit did not exactly mitigate that either. Nonetheless, there was a new confidence in the group since their escape. Their food stop had helped to calm their nerves, reminding them of happier times in Generation X, when they had been younger and had actually thought this was fun. Maybe that was why Paige was thinking that they might get out of this alive.

Rahne had to be here somewhere, they just had to find her. The only way to do that was a systematic search of the whole building. They had started at the top and were working their way down, figuring that this way they were moving closer to the exit. They had risked the elevator because speed was essential, but so far they had encountered no trouble. In fact, Paige was beginning to wonder if these upper floors were used at all. Maybe they should have started in the basement.

Jubilee had taken point. She was the smallest and least likely to be noticed. They had briefly considered having Paige pose as one of the club's staff, but dismissed the idea. Whoever was guarding Rahne almost certainly knew them all by sight. What they were going to do when they found where they were holding Rahne was a problem they planned to solve when they got to it.

Jubilee had just turned the corner into a new corridor. Suddenly she came hurrying back, indicating for Paige and Jono to stop. She was not wearing her traditional yellow raincoat, it was too distinctive. Instead she had given it to Paige, but now she took it back.

'There's a door halfway down the next corridor,' she whispered. 'I don't know what's behind it, but with that many guards it's gotta be important.'

'How many guards?' Jono asked. The number did not really matter – they were not turning back now – but they might as well know.

'Six,' Jubilee replied. 'Two by the door and two at either end of the corridor.'

'One of us will have to double back and take out the two at the far end,' Jono decided. 'I'll do it, but we're still outnumbered two-to-one.'

'We'll need a distraction,' Paige said. Of the three of them she was the closest to a natural leader and had an eye for strategy and tactics. 'We've got the element of surprise, but that still won't get us close enough to the guards by the door before they can shoot us. Any ideas?'

Jubilee looked her up and down. 'I can think of one not a million miles from here.'

'B-but Ah can't –.' Nerves enhanced Paige's natural Kentucky accent.

Jono squeezed her hand reassuringly. 'Face it, luv, you've never had a problem distracting men before.'

Paige smiled weakly and embraced Jono, hoping against hope, as she had so many times before, that this time would not be their last.

'You'll be fine, luv,' Jono assured her and embraced all the more tightly, neither in any hurry to break the contact.

Finally, Jono released her. 'Give me five minutes to get into position, then knock 'em dead.' He raced off back the way they had come.

For Paige the next five minutes were an eternity, worry for Jono, out there on his own, worry for herself and what she had to do and, worst of all, worry of what they would find behind that door should they succeed. She barely noticed that she was wringing her hands. When she stopped, it was only so that she could fiddle with her hair instead. She watched Jubilee, sitting absolutely still. She did not appear to be moving at all. The Jubilee of old had been an incorrigible fidget: what had happened to change her? Where had she learned to conceal her fear by becoming a living statue?

Paige's thoughts were interrupted when Jubilee finally announced, 'Five minutes.'

'Show time,' Paige muttered.

She threw her head back, her golden hair cascading around her, and turned the corner, looking for all the world like a catwalk supermodel. For all her bravado, Paige was actually a very shy and bookish individual, much preferring to spend an evening at home reading than out on the town. Thus, when six pairs of eyes all focussed upon her, she almost lost it completely. But Paige was a professional. She barely stuttered in her stride, whirling to take them all in, keeping in constant motion so they would not have a chance to focus on her face. All the while she edged herself closer to her goal: the guards by the door.

'Howdy, y'all.' Paige hated her Kentucky accent and normally did everything she could to conceal it, but it did make the role of Southern belle disturbingly easy to slip into. 'Whatch'all doing up here lookin' so lonesome. Thought ya might need some company, so Ah came a-runnin'. You fellas don' look all that busy. Think ya could take a bit o'time to entertain a li'l ol' southern gal like me?'

She was laying it on with a spade and she knew it, but it did not matter. They were entranced. It would not last long, but that would not matter, either; she could already see Jono moving.

As soon as she heard a noise behind her she sprang. A sudden kick to the groin put one of the guards out of the fight. One of the advantages of high heels. But now she had lost the element of surprise. The guard swung at her, but she was either smaller than he had expected or faster. She tried another kick, but he caught her foot in one large palm and hurled her onto her back. He lunged forward, but she rolled to one side. She was not quite quick enough, however, as her left shoe caught his ankle, tripping him, but pinning her foot beneath him. Paige kicked out savagely and was rewarded by a grunt of pain and an easing of the pressure on her foot. Wasting no time, she slipped out of her shoe and pulled free.

The guard tried to scramble to his feet, but once again Paige was quicker. Hours in the gym were paying off. She was on his back before he could react, clawing at his face. His mask, however, protected him from her attack. He rose to his feet, but Paige rode him, kicking and clawing, desperately searching for some way to take him down. The guard rushed backwards, slamming her into the wall. It left her gasping for breath, but still she hung on. She needed a weapon, but she would not have been able to conceal anything in her outfit. Suddenly she had an idea.

She released one hand and reached for her waist, but at the same time the guard slammed her into the wall again. She almost fell, but somehow managed to maintain her grip with her legs. Her back was on fire; she had probably scraped off a lot of skin against that wall. Shame there wasn't any steel underneath, she thought. What I wouldn't give to husk now. Her questing fingers had found the slim white sash bound round her waist. Now they hurriedly found the bow holding it tight and started to pull it loose. The guard raced for the wall again, but she was ready this time and managed to twist so as to avoid the worst of it. Finally the sash came free and with a cry of triumph Paige looped it over his head and around his neck. Then she pulled. The guard stopped. His hands groping for the sash, tearing at it. But Paige was not about to let go now. He struggled, he convulsed, but still Paige held on. He fell and Paige rolled with him, never letting up her grip. Only when he stopped moving altogether did she finally release the sash. Then she knelt down, searching for a pulse. Paige let out a relieved sigh; he was just unconscious.

She turned to see how the others were doing. Jono had dealt with his first opponent, but was being hard pressed by the second. That guard had drawn a pistol from his belt and was training it on Jono. Paige leapt to her feet to rush to the rescue, but she did not see how she could make it in time. Fortunately, Jono was faster. Shucking out of his leather jacket he hurled it at the weapon. The guard only paused for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Jono was already falling. He hit the ground alongside the already downed guard and drew that guard's pistol from its holster. He aimed and fired in one smooth motion and his opponent staggered, fell and lay still. Paige's mouth fell open, confused by a mixture of both relief and shock.

'Don't worry,' Jono said, twirling the pistol on the end of one finger, 'it's a tranquilliser gun.'

In all the excitement, Paige had forgotten Jubilee. Now she whirled around, praying that nothing had happened to the younger woman. Jubilee stood jauntily over the unconscious forms of the two remaining guards, twirling her staff in a way she must have seen Gambit do it. Her movements lacked the Cajun's grace, but Paige had not the heart to tell her.

'Well, what're we waiting for?' Jubilee asked.

* * *

Rahne was in a hospital bed in the centre of the room. Leather straps ensured she could not rise even if she tried. She was not trying. She was completely motionless. Her eyes closed.

Jono was at her side in an instant.

'Oh, Rahne, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.' He was already loosening the straps. 'What have they done to you?'

'Saved her life, actually. I would have thought you would be grateful.'

No one had thought to look around the room; they'd been too concerned for Rahne's well-being. Now they could see Shinobi Shaw rising from a chair in the corner. Jono did not hesitate. He raised his stolen pistol and fired. The dart passed right through Shaw.

'Tut, tut, tut. Can't we all be friends.'

Jubilee groaned. 'It was a set-up all along.'

'Actually, no,' Shaw admitted. 'I did not expect you to escape your cell. Very clever of you, by the way. No, I was here waiting for Ms Sinclair to wake up. Or would you prefer it if I called her Rahne?'

He pronounced her name as if it had two syllables. 'It's "rain",' Jono corrected through clenched teeth.

'I'm so sorry,' Shaw replied, trying, and failing, to look suitably chagrined. 'Her sleep is quite natural I assure you. I've no desire to hurt any of you.'

Jubilee made a break for the door, but Shaw was ready. One moment he was a solid human figure, the next he had burst into violet mist that shot across the room. The mist coalesced with equal rapidity and Jubilee now found her way blocked by a very corporeal Shaw.

'As I was saying,' Shaw continued, 'I may have no desire to harm you, but I cannot let you escape either. I'm saving you all as food for Proteus. It seems he needs mutant life energy in order to survive. I do hope you enjoy your last few days of existence.'