DISCLAIMER: All characters save for Split Second are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group and are used without permission for no profit. Please don't sue (you could hire me though, so I could use 'em WITH permission...!) FEEDBACK: Always welcome as long as it's not a flame. I have less than no tolerance for flames. Indigo@spork.com will do the trick just fine. If you would rather read comics, then go pick up TITANS or ROBIN and support good comics. Nute would want you to, and so do I. WARNING: Adult Language, hinted-at adult situations. PERMISSIONS: Please do not POP-UP or MST. THANKS: To Matt Nute and Lynxie, who beta-read and caught the little things I'd have missed. To Samy Merchi for cheering me on as I wrote a brutal little sequence. To Alicia McKenzie for belated feedback which only encouraged me to write this more. NOTE: This story is the sequel to Young Marauders in Love, written by me, Indigo, and archived at www.indigosky.net/writing/fanfiction/indigo/indigos.html. You don't HAVE to read that one first, but it'll help. =============================================================== ~A good plan,~ Remy LeBeau reminded himself for the umpteenth time, ~considers the aftermath.~ He had, regrettably, not done so. Gambit had failed to give more than a moment's forethought to what would become of Vertigo, Scrambler, and Riptide once he freed them -- and himself -- from their indenture to Mr. Sinister. He had had his eyes on the prize, and that had consumed him completely. His single-minded, myopic focus had come to successful fruition -- of a certainty. The Marauders were no more. All of them, save the three beside him, were dead, and not likely to return as clones since Sinister's laboratory had also been destroyed. Sinister himself was gone as well -- as good as dead. The phoenix of Nathaniel Essex would, with luck, rise from Sinister's ashes. But that still left him with the burning question: what would be done with the trio now? "You look like you're getting a headache," observed Kit Pryde, his partner in this venture. Her computer expertise had given him the information he needed to set the whole thing in motion. "He looks like he needs a good stiff drink," noted Locus. She had been Gambit's ace in the hole. Her chronospatial abilities had been absolutely instrumental in the success of their undertaking. "He looks like someone just hit him with a 2 x 4," chimed in Mickey Trellayne. Known as Split Second, her temporal distortion powers had given them the edge they needed. These three women had been absolutely essential in his having pulled off the greatest caper of his entire life -- let alone his career as prince of thieves. "Spill, Cajun." Pryde's voice was no-nonsense. It was phrased playfully but it may as well have been an order. "What we gon' do wit' our li'l friends here?" Gambit asked. His face slackened with relief the moment the words passed his lips; having other minds to turn the conundrum was comforting to him "Good damn question," Pryde had to admit. "Somehow, I just don't see the folks back at the house rolling out the welcome mat for them." ~Not even the remotest bit of likelihood there,~ Remy had to agree. There were gallons, cubic tons, oceans of bad blood between the X-Men and the Marauders. The stakes were even higher now that one of the Morlock survivors was an X-Man. Marrow would not react well to this news, Remy was certain. "Right. So dat's out." "Don't look at *me*," Split Second held up her hands and smiled. "All I've got is a condo loft in the Village." Locus took a breath, then stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. She turned an appraising gaze on Scrambler, Riptide and Vertigo. The three of them huddled together like frightened kittens on the other bed of Remy's hotel room. "I got somewhere I can stash 'em," she offered. Pryde turned a sidelong glance on Locus. Until *quite* recently, Locus had been one of the Mutant Liberation Front. The MLF had fallen apart at the seams right after Reignfire had been remanded to the authorities. Pryde had *not* been pleased in the slightest that Remy's plan had included her. But so far, she had done nothing Shadowcat could hold against her. "Mm-hmm," she said dubiously. "I know you don't trust me." Locus grinned, insouciant. "But what else are you gonna do? Not like you can show up on the doorstep of your X-Men's pad and say --" She affected big brown eyes and a little girl voice. " 'They followed me home. Can I keep 'em?' " She smiled, returning to her normal voice. "You put 'em in the hands of the authorities, and they'll end up -- what? In the Vault?" Scrambler shuddered from his place on the bed, shook his head and spoke up. "More likely we'd end up dissected or dead. Clones who hold together and can stand upgrades are probably hot commodities to someone. And we're the Marauders. If we did find someone who wouldn't sell us out, they'd likely still think us too dangerous to let live." Kim Sung's face slipped into an expressionless masque. His eyes, however, made it obvious that the tweak to his soul he'd had in his last upgrade had made him a changed man. His eyes held the terror of the knowledge that his chances for mercy from anyone beyond the four walls of this room were slim and none. LeBeau nodded. "Hardly worth givin' you a chance to reform if it's just gonna get tossed, an your lives with it. We got no choice. Locus. Would you do de honors?" Locus smiled, saying nothing. With a sweep of her arms, a pool of light opened beneath them all. There was the peculiar, ear-popping, spine-chilling, icy pins-and-needles sensation that accompanied her teleport. Then they were no longer in New York -- but elsewhere. A darkened room, lit only by a single ray of sunlight peeping between the dark drapes pulled closed at the far end of the room. "So where are we?" Shadowcat asked, throwing wide the drapes. Sunlight flooded into the room, revealing it layered in dust. "Small island," Locus answered. "Bermuda Triangle." "Well, that's out of the way all right," Mickey followed Kit to the window, looked out and whistled. "Blue sky. Blue ocean. White sandy beach! All I need is a half-naked guy and a li'l fruity drink with a li'l umbrella in it and I'll be good to go!" She didn't bother to mention she'd need enough cosmetics to cover her blue skin head to toe. The island, it appeared, was entirely deserted, except for them. Kit laughed and flashed a smile at Split Second that was equal parts grateful and wry. "We'll see what we can do about bringing you back the drink anyway." She approached Remy. "No more putting it off. You know we couldn't stall forever." "C'est vrai," Remy reluctantly admitted. "Let's go get it over wit'. Locus. You sayin' you gon' stick with us?" Locus shrugged. "You can't be any worse to run with than the MLF. And, well, you did take down some heavy hitters straight out of the gate. Let's say for now that I'm impressed, and I wanna see what's next." "Good enough," Riptide piped up. He had an arm wound protectively around Vertigo. "We need all the friends we can get, and that's no lie." "I wouldn't go as far as sayin' friends," Locus corrected with a slow shake of her head. "But for now, at least, allies. It's not like you guys can come or go from this place without me anyway." ~Which is precisely what bothers me,~ Kit thought. But she didn't say it aloud. She had made her objections and concerns clear to him when he'd signed her aboard. And for the moment, Locus was the best they could do. Vertigo looked alarmed as Remy, Mickey and Kit moved toward Locus. She pressed into Riptide's arms. "You're not leaving us alone!" "You have Janos," Shadowcat pointed out, careful to place a slightly heavier inflection on Riptide's 'normal' name. "Mickey is gonna pick you guys up some supplies. Some civvies. Gambit and I have ... X-Men business." Riptide nodded. "Don't think we're not grateful," he said solemnly. "We are. More than we can tell you." "We know," Gambit replied. Sung nodded. "And as you say, we can't make a move without you. So we'll be right here." He flashed a brief flickerflash of a smile. "We'll be back quick as we can," LeBeau promised. He clasped Locus' hands. "Let's go, chere. Merci beaucoup." "Yeah, yeah." Another flash of light, and Locus transported them away from the former Marauders. Her first stop was Dale City, Virginia. LeBeau handed a large wad of cash to Mickey and charged her with the task of stocking the trio's new home. "I'll be back to get you at closing time," Locus informed Mickey. Mickey nodded her acknowledgement, then turned and darted into the crowd of shoppers. It was February; so no one noticed that Mickey ducked through the shoppers bundled in a turtleneck, muffler and hat, even indoors. But she had no image inducer at present, and had to hide her blue skin somehow. Locus' second stop was back in New York; Remy's hotel room. "How long am I gonna be waiting for you two?" Her eyes were narrowed distrustfully. ~They'll come back,~ she reminded herself. ~They're the *good guys.* Bleeding heart or not, they won't abandon the others.~ "Could take awhile," Gambit responded as they boarded the elevator. "Check back through our normal methods, a'ight?" "A'ight." Locus glanced around for onlookers as the elevator opened. She found none in the parking garage and stepped into one of her portals. It irised closed behind her, leaving Shadowcat and Gambit alone together in the garage. They turned to walk to Remy's Harley. "You realize," Kitty shouted over the growl of the bike's engine. "They're gonna think we sneaked off together for a three week long tryst of sordid, wild, mad monkey sex." LeBeau's laughter trailed them well beyond the garage as they sped out into the late night traffic. ***** The mansion was no quieter, no noisier than usual. But Remy and Kit both padded in on silent feet. [~Ah. Kitty. Remy. You've returned.~] Both mutants winced and stiffened at the touch of Charles Xavier in their minds. [~ We were beginning to wonder. To worry.~] There was more than a touch of reproach in the mindsend. [~For Christ's sake, Professor, we're *not* children!~] an exasperated Shadowcat snapped back at him. That he had refused to address her as anything but 'Kitty' was a sore spot with her, and today it had stricken an especially tender nerve. [~We may be X-Men, but we are entitled to our *own* lives, and that means not necessarily answering to you.~] Charles' mindsend paused. Remy and Kitty exchanged a glance. ~You *tell* him, chere,~ Remy thought, guarded. His smile danced in his eyes, though his expression was otherwise the picture of etiquette. [~I see.~] Xavier's 'tone' had definitely grown cooler. It had been many years since last he had had to deal with the once-youngest X-Man. [~I had nearly forgotten how -- independent you are. My apologies. It is, however, good to have you home.~] [~Tell you the truth, Monsieur le Professor, we do need to talk with you. And with the others.~] Remy sent as he and Kit ascended the stairs. [~Give us an hour to unwind, and for you to do dat 'To me, my X-Men' t'ing, an' we'll explain ev't'ing.~] "You're nervous, LeBeau," Pryde teased after Charles acknowledged Remy's request and withdrew. "Accent's thickening." "An' you're *not*?" demanded Remy, incredulous. "Only two ways this could go," Kit shrugged and leaned against the bannister. "We tell them. And after they recover from the shock, either they congratulate us on a job well done..." "...Or dey freak." "Or they freak," Kit concluded. "No sense worrying what will happen 'til it happens." "Where'd you pick up the philosophy?" Gambit asked. "Ninja training? SHIELD?" "Naw, it's just experience." ***** The other X-Men, on hearing what Shadowcat and Gambit had been involved with over the past month -- freaked; some worse than others. Colossus stared at Kit with a shocked, blank frown. "Katya -- you ... you killed them?" "Not all of 'em, and not personally," Kit elaborated. "But yeah. It was the only way we could get the others out in one piece." "X-Men don't kill," Piotr said softly. "Oh, Bull*shit*," Pryde retorted with a twist of her mouth. "C'mon, let's not be all naive, okay?" She began to count on her fingers, naming which X-Men had killed whom, in the name of what, where, and when. "We've killed the Phalanx. We've killed the Brood. We've even been responsible for the death of previous Marauders." Her eyes locked on Piotr's and Colossus looked away, shamed. "We've also done our fair share -- if not more -- of protecting people. We try not to kill. But sometimes that's ... the expedient solution. And the one you know won't come back to bite you in the ass someday." "That makes us no better than they," Storm whispered, eyes downcast. "Leave it to the wind-rider goddess to point that out," Marrow rasped. "You sure you wanna throw stones in your glass house there, Storm?" Wolverine spoke up, clasping Kit's shoulder gently in one big hand. "Killin' changes you, punkin. First time you do it you lose an innocent part of your soul that can never be reclaimed. Only mourned and remembered." Remy nodded. "Oui. But we also saved a life. Possibly many more. Sinister? He *gone*, mes amis. An' de Marauders as well 'cept dese t'ree who reformed an' asked asylum." Marrow's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. "You know you can't really change history," Charles said softly over his steepled fingers. "Did the best we could. Did what we believed was right." LeBeau shrugged. "Was wort' dustin' de Marauders. Wort' facin' Sinister. If Scrambler, Riptide, and Vertigo have truly changed. " At the mention of Riptide, Nightcrawler couldn't quite suppress an involuntary shudder. He exchanged a look with Colossus. "And if they haven't truly changed?" Charles asked. Kurt held up a hand. "All right, Katzchen. But what if your second chance for them does turn out to have been an error?" Wolverine moved forward, opening his mouth to speak. Kit cut him off with a withering glare. "Logan, so help me, if you tell me that story about the frog and the scorpion, I will belt you." Her tone was affectionate, but her eyes were serious. Logan shook his head and fidgeted with his cigar. He was visibly torn between lighting it to irk Charles and leaving it unlit out of respect for Ororo. "Not me, darlin'. You're a grown girl, and I'm not your daddy." "How, Katya?" Piotr pleaded, eyes bright. "How could you be party to this? Do you not remember what they did to you? To us?" He gestured to include Kurt and Ororo and himself. "Non," Remy answered before Kit could speak. "We din' forget. We'll never forget. But dat's why we did it. It may begin, in some small, insignificant way, to make up for de horrors of de past." Gambit hung his head; it was clear to anyone who looked that guilt still weighted his heart. "If another chance was good enough for Rogue, f or Sabretooth, for fucking *Magneto*, then it damn well should be good enough for three Marauders who *want* to change and make amends," Shadowcat declared, folding her arms. Her body language said stubborn. "Damn it, even * Marrow * was a mass-murderer before she became an X-Man!" Rogue, who had mainly been listening in silence chose this time to chime in. "She does have a point, y'all." "I will not remain if they are allowed beneath the roof of this house." "Understood, Pete," Remy's facial expression was bland, polite. "We weren't fool enough to t'ink anyone would want 'em here. We got 'em elsewhere. Somewhere safe. Watched." "And you mean to return to them." Charles said flatly. The tonality of his voice indicated he considered his words a statement of fact rather than an inquiry. Kit nodded. "We're responsible for them. For making sure they can handle the world now that they're not killers. And for putting them down if they *don't* turn out to have changed their ways." Logan clasped Kit's shoulder. "I'm behind ya on this, Kit, for one reason only. It's your decision. If ya live to regret it, at least ya learned. "An' if you don't live, the world won't be big enough for them to hide. I *will* avenge you." Logan's blue eyes had gone steely. He lit the cigar and took a long, slow drag. Grey smoke haloed his head. "I wasn't much more than a wild thing when Mac and Heather took me in. Then I found family here. I won't deny anyone that chance, that return to grace." "This is madness," Ororo breathed. "You must turn them in." "We didn't turn you in when you killed Marrow. We didn't turn Rogue in when SHIELD wanted her. We didn't turn Colossus in when he killed Riptide. " Kit shook her head. "Ororo. Chere. You know as well as I do what'd happen if we did dat." Remy's gaze tracked from Ororo's taut face to Charles' stony one. Even though Graydon Creed was dead, Bastion was destroyed and Onslaught was obliterated from the mind of Charles Xavier -- mutants were still hated, still feared. No mutant anywhere would ever get treated like a person -- like a citizen. Especially not the Marauders. Charles' face tightened. "You should have consulted with us first." "Why?" Shadowcat demanded, arms akimbo. "So you could tell us no? So Sinister could realize that his latest batch of clones had the unforeseen flaw of humanity and upgrade to an even nastier Marauders 5.0? I don't *think* so. We saw the chance to stop this, and to bring some good out of it. And we took it. It was that simple. You trained us to act in the interest of the greater good. Destroying Sinister, and disbanding the Marauders permanently *is* in the interest of the greater good!" Rogue's shoulders were tense, hunched. Colossus looked betrayed. Nightcrawler's expression was calm, yellow-eyed pensiveness. Storm looked horrified. Logan puffed on his cigar, resigned. Marrow, however, regarded Remy and Kit with half-lidded magenta eyes. "You wanted to make it right," she whispered. "But nothing can. You tried anyway. That is better than nothing at all." She turned, glaring daggers at a Storm who had the good grace to look away. "T'anks, Sarah." Remy's voice was respectful and his head dipped in an unconscious gesture of respect. Charles had remained silent for the past few moments. But now he drew himself up in his hoverchair. "Okay, Professor. Let fly with the diatribe." Kit leaned back against the wall and lifted her chin. "No baby team to demote me to this time. Do I at least get a blindfold and a cigarette?" "You did this on your own, without consulting us. You have consorted with our enemies. Enemies who you know have tried to kill us before. On repeated occasions." "Yeah, Charles, an' we're here now tellin' you what's up. Dat should tell you somet'ing." Remy's voice was low. "It tells me that there is a serious schism amongst my X-Men. If you cannot trust us, we cannot trust you." "Professor?!" Rogue turned shocked green eyes on Xavier. "Are you sayin' what it sounds like you're sayin'?" "There is no place on this team -- in this family -- for distrust and deceit," Charles said softly. "Excuse me?!" Kitty pushed off the wall. "Okay, fine. There's room on this team for you to randomly shut people's minds off, or put them to sleep when they don't follow your agenda. There's room on this team for us to fight in the name of peace between mutants and humans. But there's no room for us to follow the dream on your behalf because you don't think they're worth saving?" She took a deep breath and stared at the floor, willing herself calm. "So be it, den." Remy leaned off the desk he'd had a hip cocked against. "I'll pack my t'ings an' be gone before midnight. Chat d'nuit would not have even been part of dis if not for me." "I'm still part of it," Kit pointed out. "I don't start anything I don't mean to finish. I'm seeing this through. See you in the funny papers, Prof." She stalked to the door and through it without bothering to open it. Her footfalls did not echo up the hallway. Charles raised a hand to his head, gesturing precursive to telepathically halt Shadowcat's departure. To his astonishment, he found a bone claw beneath his nose. "Uh-uh, Chuck. None of that. They're bein' true to the dream in their own way. If they're successful as they believe they are, more power to 'em. They will have accomplished more than any of us." Charles looked up at Logan. "So say you, then. So say you all?" "Not all of us," Marrow smirked. "They're at least takin' the battle to the street, rather than holing up in their cozycozy little upworlder money nest. I'm with them." She put a hand on Remy's shoulder and smiled up at him. There was something in her eyes, though, preventing the smile from entirely lighting her face. "I say they deserve the opportunity," Kurt said. "I want to believe that what you taught us -- to help when we could -- applies for *everyone.* I was chased for being a demon before you found me, Herr Professor. If not for you, I might've let bitterness into my heart and believed it of myself. Three monsters who want to become something better deserve that chance." Ororo sighed. "I would like to believe that, but experience has taught us differently. With Rogue, we were lucky. She was genuinely repentant." "An' what's to say those three ain't also repentant?" Rogue demanded. "What's to say it's not a trick?" Colossus countered. Remy left the X-Men arguing heatedly behind him. Sarah followed him out without a backward glance. ***** Scrambler -- no, Kim Sung -- stood at the edge of the water, toes dug into the sand. The sea lapped at his calves beneath his rolled up slacks. Janos and Vee had wanted -- needed -- time alone. So he had gone for a walk along the beach. And his mind had begun to work. Behind his closed eyelids, the Marauders who had died stared accusingly at him. Philippa gazed at him with blood-darkened eyes, her head askew at a strange angle from where her neck had been broken. Mike, nothing more than a charred, melted heap of flesh, glowered down at him. Prism, a pile of shining shards at their feet. Scalphunter, with one of Riptide's stilettos through his face, spoke. "Not bad work, really. We were dangerous because we were sneaky, Sung. Even Sinister didn't ever expect us to turn on each other. I'm impressed." "You're not angry, then?" Kim asked, raking a nervous hand through his hair. He breathed through his mouth. Between the coppery tang of blood, and the awful stench of charred flesh from the dead Marauders, he couldn't draw a deep breath without tasting the foulness of death on his tongue. "Fuck yeah, we're angry," Blockbuster rasped. "We died because we weren't human enough. We died because Sinister didn't think we needed that spark of humanity." "No," Sung said with genuine regret in his voice. "You died because Sinister hadn't intended his little wooden puppets to become real boys and girls. You died because stopping him -- you -- was the right thing to do. We couldn't duplicate what had been done to us, so the only thing we could do was put you out of your misery. No more cloning. No more memory downloads. No more knowing in a distant, vague way that you had a life once, and wondering if it missed you, wanted you back." His lower lip trembled against a sob. He was human all right. The old Scrambler would have smiled and done a graceful pirouette over the graves of fallen Marauders. Kim Sung's chest was tight with grief and remorse. "We're supposed to *thank* you for murdering us?!" Philippa Sontag demanded. "You won't be murdering anyone else. In whatever hell you find yourself, there will be no more innocent slaughtered souls to make amends to." Kim spread his hands helplessly, unable to explain himself any better than this. ~We wanted to live, and you had to die so we could,~ sounded so cruel to his mind. "We'll see you there," Scalphunter smiled. Blood covered his moustaches and teeth. "You know we weren't Sinister's only attack squad." With that, the ghosts of the Marauders laughed, and faded. Sung sat up, gasping. ~A dream!~ There was sand in his hair, and his breath came in ragged gasps. "The others," he breathed. "The others!" He struggled to his feet and raced through the sand toward the house on the hill. "I have to tell Janos and Vee." He was human enough to care about not tracking sand into Locus' home. He was human enough to call out ahead of himself. He was human enough to knock and wait for a response from Janos before entering the bedroom the couple had claimed. "You look awful," Vee observed. She wore only a sheet, snuggled beneath her breasts. Janos sat beside her, wearing only his boxers. "What's wrong?" "A nightmare," Kim panted. Then, seeing the puzzled expressions on his friends' faces, added. "We weren't Sinister's only ones. There are others. It could all begin again unless we get rid of them too." He let himself sag to the foot of their bed. "Gambit and Shadowcat will know who the others were," Vee said with the blind faith of a child. "And we'll kill them too." "We will offer them the chance to join us first," Janos said softly, stroking Vee's hair. "We're *not* cold-blooded killers anymore. Do you want any more blood on your hands, my love? On your conscience?" "No!" Vertigo whispered, and buried her face in Janos' chest. She looked up. "But we have to. It's what we were made for. And if we have to deal with the others, we will have to kill." Her spiralled green eyes shone with tears. "But it's self-defense, isn't it?" "I don't know if the X-Men will see it that way," Janos said softly. "Gambit didn't have to help us, but he did. Do we have the right to take the lives of the others from them? Weren't they forced to do it the same as we were?" "Maybe. But what if Sinister programmed them to kill us?" "Then it's self defense," Sung replied with a shrug. "There's only one I can see coming after us. The rest were his second stringers, after all." He looked faintly ill; pride at being The Best warred with sick guilt at what he'd been the best * at * . "We can't just kill him in cold blood," Vee protested. "GambitShadowcatthey'll think we haven't changed and they'll kill * us * ." "Vee has a point," Janos had to concede. "We'll have to take it up with them." * * * * Remy sat on the lawn, beside his Harley. His belongings, that which he'd kept in the mansion anyway, were all packed neatly into a single duffel bag. It had been what he'd carried when he had joined the X-Men at Storm's invitation. He found it strangely fitting, strangely ironic that he was carrying it now that he was leaving them behind. On his lap, he tapped coded phrases into the alt.alt.alt.alt.alt newsgroup, telling Locus that they were ready to depart, and where they'd meet her. Even though his break with the X-Men was not amicable, he was *not* going to betray them again by having her come directly to the mansion. ~Let 'em think what they like,~ he thought. ~I know I am doing the right thing.~ He glanced up at the windows. Storm was watching from the roof, silently trying to will him to stay without words. His sharp ears picked up the front door opening. Pryde and Wolverine walked out together. The latter's arm was around the young woman. Despite his previous claims to not being her father, it was obvious that the diminutive Canadian still felt protective of and paternal toward Kit. "You know how to reach me, Kit," he told her as they reached Gambit. "You call, and I will *drop* whatever I'm doin' to get you out of a jam. You know that." "Yeah," Pryde smiled. "And I appreciate it. But I won't have you doin' that for us. And the team wouldn't put up with you doin' it if I had to." "Hell with the team, darlin'. They've made do without me before." He bent and kissed Kit's forehead. "Stay in touch *anyway*." Kit smiled. "I will. I promise." Marrow came stalking out of the house, her few belongings in a battered and stained backpack. "Okay, we hitting the road, then?" "You're not coming with us," Pryde said, turning her eyes from Wolverine to Marrow. "Sarah, no." Gambit added. "Sarah yes," Marrow replied. "I wanna see for myself what these Marauders are like. I wanna see for myself the people who killed my people." She sat on the back seat of the bike and folded her arms obstinately. Remy palmed his face and shook his head. ~Surrounded by gorgeous women who know their own minds and know exactly what they want. I'd've thought it would be heaven.~ * * * * Mickey Trellayne tapped away at the computer in the back of the Software Etc. She'd put out the "BACK IN 15 MINUTES" sign out front and pulled the security gate down. The staff and manager were frozen in their tracks, held by one of Split Second's temporal disruptions. "Let's see what the buzz online is about events of late," she muttered, fingers dancing nimbly across the keys. "God bless the Internet, for people find out stuff fast." Her eyes perused the lines after lines of data that scrolled up the screen. She paused occasionally to read more closely into a newsgroup or message board entry. But she was, eventually, satisfied that the consequences of her actions with LeBeau were not immediately rushing to bite her in the ass. Wincing against the headache that such a use of her powers usually generated, Split Second lifted the security gate, put away the sign, and returned to the lockers to uncheck her purchases. The employees of the computer store blinked, unaware that anything had happened to them. "A couple phone calls are in order, I think," Mickey murmured to herself, and headed for the food court, packages dangling from both her arms. "Hurry up, Locus!" "You rang?" asked Locus' voice in Mickey's ear, and then she was gone, sucked through one of Locus' teleportals. * * * * Mickey gave a soft "Uh-oh," under her breath as they materialized in Locus' hideaway. The main room was empty, and the former Marauders were nowhere to be seen. She cocked her head, listening, and relaxed. "They're in one of the back rooms." "Good to see they've made themselves at home," Locus observed. The main room had been dusted, and the kitchen had also been cleaned out. "It was nice to have a neat kitchen to put away stuff in." "Yeah, no doubt," Mickey agreed dubiously. "I guess they really want us to believe they've turned over that new leaf." "You sound doubtful," Locus noted. "Let me tell you, Bluey - if they hadn't genuinely turned over a new leaf, we could still take them apart. Don't sweat it." Mickey bristled at the nickname, but nodded. "You have a point, there, yeah." She followed Locus into the kitchen where the two of them set about putting away the dry goods. Perishables had already been set neatly into the massive refrigerator. "How'd this place get built, anyway?" "Search me. It was here when we needed it." "You're not afraid the real owner's gonna come home and take it back?" "If I was, I wouldn't have invited you. And even so - same applies. It's not like anyone poses a threat to us." Mickey nodded, wordless. ~Maybe Kit was right to not trust this one. She's hard.~ Locus said, "Y'mind if I leave you to finish the groceries on your own? I gotta check for LeBeau's message to pick him up." "No, no, go'head. I'll keep an eye on the kids." She chuckled as Locus sauntered through the main room and down the hall, vanishing through one of the doors. Everyone had already fallen into euphemistic diminutives for Vee, Janos, and Kim. ~'Our little friends.' 'The Kids.' It's like we don't even want to acknowledge what they were - and what they're still capable of.~ Her smile faded with the realization. ~I'm just glad chronal powers give me the advantage against them. At least until we get certain little triggerswitches knocked out of their bods.~ * * * * In New York, over an inordinately expensive meal of filet mignon and white wine, Remy LeBeau had come to the same conlcusion. He brooded over his crystal glass, not touching it. Even though his metabolism usually burned toxins such as alcohol from his body, he didn't wish to take a chance. ~If Sinister put mental imperatives on me, then he likely put 'em on his Marauders. We gotta get those removed tout suite.~ Marrow sat uneasily in the evening dress Kit had picked out for her. An image inducer hid the bones, so they would not be harassed; Remy had assured them it was not necessary in this particular restaurant. He knew the owner, and had a few things over his head that assured Remy privacy anytime he wished to dine. Pryde had insisted, though, just for safety's sake. She wasn't used to being out in public and not having someone freak out and yell "Mutie!" at the first sight of someone even a little different. "Why are we sitting around here, Remy, when we could be already back with the others?" Marrow demanded impatiently. She held her fork and knife in her fists, like a small child. "Because we're waitin' on our ride, an' because Pryde deserves a night out after what I put her through." "That really wasn't necessary, Remy," Pryde protested. Secretly, though, she was pleased to have a chance to wear her nicest civilian clothes and be seen on the arm of a handsome man. "I know. But I got de feelin' we not gonna have too much chance like dis in de future." Pryde immediately straightened and set her champagne glass down. Marrow picked it up and slucked back the contents instantly. Pryde didn't notice; her attention had been sharpened, and it was entirely focused on Gambit. "What do you know that you're not telling, LeBeau?" She gestured at his untouched champagne flute. "I've never known you to pass up a good celebration, especially on your own dime." "Occurs to me, chere, dat if I had a little doohickey put in *my* head, it stands to reason that our three li'l friends have somethin' similar." Pryde nodded, side-curls bouncing. "Yeah, that occurred to me as well. Failsafes. Knowing Sinister, they'll keel over if they try to do anything other than nasty wetwork." "We need someone to check for them, to make sure they're clean," Remy murmured, keeping his voice low enough that only Pryde and Marrow could hear it. "Oh, yes. Can't have any nasty-wasty anti-social tendencies to bother the upworlders," Marrow sneered. "More like, 'can't have them killing us in our beds,'" Kit corrected, nibbling on a tender floret of broccoli. "Speak for yourself, little pretty kitty. Nobody ever gets close enough to my bed to kill me." Marrow bared her teeth; it might have been meant as a smile. Pryde wasn't sure and wasn't about to ask. "Fair enough," Pryde shrugged. "I've got some ideas for who might help us out with this little problem, Remy. We'll put our heads together once we're safely back to the new place." "All right. No need t'ruin dinner with worries we can handle afterward." Remy returned to his meal, but pointedly did * not * touch his wine. Marrow tossed back his glass as well and finished the bottle. Once having done so, she carefully savoured the fine cut of beef, and the vegetables. Food like this was simply not to be had in the Morlock tunnels - and if Remy wanted to treat her to such a meal, fine. His pockets being emptied. She was not going to pass up on such succulent upworlder fare. Locus arrived, walking out of the Ladies' room in a spectacular black velvet dress, just as desert arrived, in the form of crme brulee. "Evening, all." Remy rose, gentlemanly, to hold her chair as she sat. "So glad you could join us, chere." He bent and kissed her hand. Sarah hid an envious little pout behind her napkin, levelling her eyes on the newcomer. "Hi." "Locus," Pryde said politely. "Guys." She ducked her head politely and dug into the creamy, rich dessert. "Okay, it's like this. They're still there, and they haven't done anything we need to worry about, but they * are * scared witless of a retaliation strike. As for Little Girl Blue - she's worried that they have some kind of trigger on them that'll cause 'em to revert to type." "Same had occurred to us," Kit concurred. "We were considering tackling that problem tonight." "Excellent," Locus nodded. "Let's finish up and get moving, then, hm?" What food was not eaten was packed up in little to-go packages. Sarah refused to waste even a bite if someone else couldn't finish it. "So, how do we get to the new place?" "Quick as a wink, before you can blink," Locus rhymed with a half grin. The exit of the restaurant glowed as she set a teleportal in the doorway. Two steps later they were back in the Bermuda Triangle compound. "HEY! HEADS UP! THEY'RE BACK!" Mickey shouted, smiling and rushing to hug Remy. She came up short, and blinked at Marrow. "Oh - another new face." "Marrow. Split Second. Split Second, Marrow." Kit did the introductions, stepping aside as Vertigo, Riptide and Scrambler emerged from their rooms in the hall. "Hey, guys." Marrow was already moving, though, before Kit finished the introductions. "Die, filthy murderers!" The dress shredded as Marrow tore rib-bones and bone-daggers from her body, flinging them at the trio. "No!" Vertigo shrieked, and lashed out with her power. Marrow staggered, retched, but did not throw up. She fought her way back to her feet, eyes closed. "You think you're gonna stop me by making me * dizzy and nauseous*?! Stupid upworlder bitch, I live in * pain * every day of my life! Nausea is NOTHING to me!" She let fly with a bone-dagger, only opening her eyes after the blade had left her hand. "NO!" Riptide hiss-whispered, and set to spinning. His rapid gyrations brought him in front of Vertigo in a twinkling. The bone dagger glanced off Riptide's whirling body, and slid to a stop a few feet away. Undaunted by one failure, Marrow regrouped herself and leapt at Riptide, screaming. There was the wet sound of flesh rending, and then her fingertips were extended with bone-knives. "Kill you! Blood for blood! Lives for lives!" "Those Marauders are * dead* now, Miss," Scrambler said, reaching to grab Marrow's ankle as she went past. The Morlock turned X-Man screamed in agony as Scrambler's touch threw her power into tenfold overdrive. She crumpled in a ball as her ribs began protruding rapidly from her back, and her vertebrae sprang from her spine like tiny blades. Scrambler stepped away, letting go of her ankle. "We're not those Marauders," he added after a moment, clearly apologetic. "We're sorry for who they were, what they did." "You think that your sorrow will bring back my friends? My family?" Marrow's eyes were glistening, but no tears tracked her face. "You think your apologies made up for all the blood you spilled?" And then she was on her feet again, lunging for Scrambler. "No!" Riptide yelled, whirling to protect his friend. The bone dagger struck home in Riptide's chest. He went down, gasping, wide eyed. His face paled and he sank to the floor, staring in horror at the bone still sticking out from his chest. "That's a good start," Marrow smirked, pulling free another bone since Scrambler had bent to help his fallen compatriot. "That's *enough*," Locus snapped, popping a teleportal into existence. "Back the fuck off, bony, or I'll slice you in half!" Pryde and LeBeau stared at Marrow, who finally had to look away from them. "We didn't bring you with us so you could act out your vendetta on the Marauders," Pryde said softly. "We thought knowing these people weren't the same ones - figuratively or literally - who killed your people would help you make peace." "Talk later," Vertigo snapped, assertive for the first time. "My Janos is dying!" "Cecilia," Pryde said. "Locus, can you get us to Salem Center Westchester, near the north end of town? There's a doctor who will help him." Split Second had already acted, forming a bubble of silvery-blue chronal energy around the former Marauder, preventing him from trying to remove the bone or to struggle against his injury. "I can hold onto him for a little whilebut let's go. The sooner he gets to a doctor, the better!" "Right," Pryde nodded, and grabbed Sarah by the hair. She pushed the other woman against the wall - and PHASED. Sarah SCREAMED. "Kitty!" Remy gasped, thinking the worst. "Just phasing her bones into the wall until she calms the hell down," Shadowcat explained, stepping away. The uncontrolled bone growths Scrambler's touch had caused had not been reabsorbed, and they were holding her fast against the wall - with no leverage to pry herself free. "We better go with you," Scrambler said hastily, following Vertigo as Remy and Mickey lifted the timefrozen Riptide toward Locus. Sarah thrashed and screamed, but didn't struggle much beyond that. She could endure the pain of *some* bones being pulled loose too soon, but not *all* of them. "You better consider calming the hell down or I will drop your bony ass off Mount Rushmore when I get back," Locus snarled. And then they were gone. * * * * Cecilia Reyes didn't often get a night on the town. Not at all. But Hank McCoy was in town for the first time in months, taking a break from his frantic search for the cure to the Legacy Virus. And he'd asked her for a date. Their first date had not worked out so well, [1] and Cecilia had not allowed herself to realize just how eager she'd been to take the raincheck that Hank had promised her. And, naturally, her pager had gone off with its insistent little musical beep. "No rest for the wicked," Hank said, eyes atwinkle. "Now you owe *me* a raincheck, hm?" Cecilia smiled over her cup of coffee. "I guess I do, McCoy. I guess I do. Good thing you didn't get the movie tickets just yet. Can you give me a ride home?" "Milady's chariot awaits." * * * * Cecilia entered her office, Hank walking protectively behind her, and turned on the lights. "Hi, sorry for the short notice," LeBeau said apologetically. "But as you can see, we got us an emergency here." Split Second gusted a sigh of relief. "Thank Gawd!" and let go of her chronological displacement. On the table, Janos Quested fumbled the knife from his chest, and the sucking chest wound began to bleed - or, more accurately, ooze blood. Froth bubbled up from the wound as well. "Shit," Cecilia snapped. "He's got a punctured lung." She gave a cursory glance to the bone dagger as it clattered to the floor from Riptide's nervless fingers. "Everybody stand the fuck back. Except you, McCoy. Scrub up and give me a hand." "Just like old times, Dr. Reyes," Hank laughed, genuine humour in his voice as he worked to keep Cecilia from dwelling on what had injured the man on her table - and worse, who the man on her table actually was. He looked up, meeting LeBeau's eyes. His expression clearly demanded an explanation later. Split Second yelled, "I hate to interrupt you in the middle of this delicate doctor stuff, but I could really use about 24 Tylenol, and girlie-girl here is gonna have a nervous breakdown if someone doesn't sedate her!" Vertigo was alternately sobbing against Remy's chest, or struggling against his grip to rush to Janos' side. "Oh, no, no, please don't let him die. Please save him. Please don't let him die." "Cabinet behind Gumbo," Reyes said without looking up. "Pryde, top shelf has Diazepam. Give blondie there two. Tylenol 3 is one shelf down." She had already donned her gloves, headpiece and mask; she wasn't bothering with bluesher patient's life was ticking away with every beat of his heart. "Bless you," moaned Split Second, and staggered out to the waiting area. "I'm gonna take two of these and pass out. Wake me on Wednesday." "The road to redemption is not as evenly paved as we'd hoped, eh, chere?" Remy said, then fell silent as he watched Reyes and McCoy fight to save Riptide's life. Shadowcat folded her arms and waited. It was gonna be a long, long night. ________________________________________________________________ [1] Their first date was the 1998 X-Men/Fantastic Four Annual. Psycho Man showed up and ruined everybody's good time at the opera.