X-MEN ETERNITY

X-Factor #3: "Down the Bayou"

Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke

X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

This is also partly a work of historical fiction; all characters are either fictitious or used fictitiously, and no infringement or insult is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed; the team is spread through time and space, and some characters who were dead, um, aren't. "X-Factor: Eternity" deals with the part of the team that has become trapped in an alternate 19^th Century America.

***************************************************************

"You rotten sonofa--"

Whatever else the lady named Rogue might have said was drowned out by the sound-- BAM!-- as her fist connected with Warren Worthington's left eye. The Angel flew across the room-- not under his own power, for once-- and smashed a rocking chair into kindling. Fortunately, Rogue had just hit him with a standard punch, rather than packing in the solar wallop of her borrowed Sunfire abilities. If she's used those-- or, even worse, the Ms. Marvel strength she used to possess-- it would have been Warren's bones smashing.

On the other hand, by the look in her eye, the day was young...

Chesapeake, Virginia
Late Summer 1861
Alternate Reality #915

"Calm down, Rogue! Will you just calm down? I can explain!"

Rogue took a step forward. "You better explain fast, sugar. What the *hell* you mean, you been *talkin'* to it?"

Warren sighed. "The-- shadow entity, the thing called the Slayer that trapped us here-- he came to me a little while ago, just after Cecilia and I set up shop in Richmond. He tried to make a deal with me-- something about stopping Apocalypse." (* see the last two issues)

"An' you didn't think that was somethin' I needed to know?"

"I was pumping him for information! I didn't want to tell the rest of you because I didn't know when he might be watching me. I thought I could handle him. But now Paige is in danger (*last ish) and I'm--"

WHAM! Rogue picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. *That* time she might have used a little Sunfire. Warren groaned.

"Yeah, that's th' other part, hon. You *knew* this thing was trackin' us, and you let us leave her and Jono *alone* in New Orleans..." (*yet again, last time)

"I thought they'd be fine! He was concentrating on me!"

"Why?" Rogue demanded, nose-to-nose with him.

"He... was playing on my fears..."

"Such as?"

"I'd really rather not say. They're my *private* fears." He glared at her. "Would you want to share the contents of *your* brain with the class, Rogue? I hear there's some interesting stuff in there..."

A gloved hand fell on his shoulder. "Recognize you at a disadvantage, homme, but dere's no call t'be ungentlemanly."

Warren turned his glare on Remy LeBeau. "C'mon, Gambit, you of all people ought to know where I'm coming from..."

"Not dat I don' sympathize, mon ami, but tell de truth, it kinda nice t'see some *other* fella get called de traitor."

"I'm no traitor."

"Well, you ain't an X-Man if you ain't levelin' with us," said Rogue, still steaming. "Dammit, Warren, am I runnin' this team or not?"

"You are," said Warren, a little irritated. He had some experience running X-teams and wouldn't have minded taking the lead himself, but Rogue had won the initial vote fair and square. "So that means I can't follow a lead on my own?"

"No. What it means is, anything-- I mean *anything*-- havin' to do with the safety of these people? That's my business. You keep my business from me again, an' we're gonna fight. An' sugar, I won't go easy on ya next time. You got that?"

"Yeah," said Warren with a grimace. "But--"

"I think he got the picture, Rogue," said a voice from the back of the room: Samuel Guthrie, Cannonball, the endangered party's brother. He stepped forward to join the others. "You shouldn't hurt th' fella."

"Thank you..." Warren began. He stepped away from the wall...

"*I* should hurt him," said Sam.

WHAM! Warren hit the ground again. One of his wings bent the wrong way, and in anger, he got up and struggled with the younger man...

"Guys! Guys! Enough, comprende? Cool it!" Dr. Cecilia Reyes stepped between them, using her self-generated force-field to separate them. "Come on! What's done is done..."

Sam took a deep breath. He was normally a pretty laid-back young man, but now he couldn't seem to make his jaw unclench. He jabbed a finger at Angel--

"Y'know, Worthington, I grew up readin' about you in the newspapers. I figured you for an alright fella, so I didn't squawk when you an' Paige got together-- not that anybody could ever tell Paige what t'do anyhow. But if she's hurt, an' I find out you coulda prevented it? You're gonna need them wings t' get to Heaven, Mr. Angel, sir, 'cause I'm gonna blast you right through a brick wall."

"*If* Paige is hurt," Warren said steadily, "I'll deserve it."

The others hesitated. Then they backed off. If nothing else, it seemed to have registered that Warren was sincere about doing the best thing for Paige, and never would have seen her hurt.

"Reckon we make amends first, eh?" said Remy. "Place de blame later."

"Speaking of that..." Warren said. He straightened his collar. "In the vision Slayer showed me, Paige and Chamber were hurt as a message to you, Remy. From a man named Guillaume. Ring any bells?"

"Ahh," Remy said, annoyed. "Knew dis come 'round to be my fault somehow..."

"Remy..." said Rogue, taking a dangerous step forward.

"Long story, cher. Operation like we got brewin' here, it take a lot o' ready cash in a little time. I made a few deals."

"What kind of deals?"

Gambit made a face. "Thieves' Guild go back a long time. Always room fo' a man like me."

"The Thieves Guild!" Rogue tossed up her hands. "Blast it, Remy!"

"I don' work miracles, cher! How you think I pull dis off? Ain't so bad-- all dey get's a percentage... an' my services from time to time. Nothin' I wouldn't do anyhow. You know I got my own style."

"Does anybody on this team tell me anything?" Rogue started pacing in agitation.

"Part o' de deal was, he deal wit' me an' only me. For true, cher, wasn't supposed to go down like dis."

"Yeah, well, he's a *thief*, Remy! D'you think maybe he lied t'you?"

Gambit stood up a little taller. "Take offense at dat, cher. I'm a thief, an' I don' lie t'you."

"Yeah, ya really do! All the time!"

"Well, not *dat* often..."

"Argh! Force field! Now!"

Cecilia moved between them, giving Rogue a minute to chill. Warren did his level best to suppress a smile... until Rogue glared at him, and he deliberately turned so as not to get killed.

"Okay," said Rogue, a moment later. "We fix this. Cecilia takes the kid back to Richmond. The rest a' y'all, get ready to fly. We're headin' down the bayou... either t'get our people back, or t'leave a couple a' bodies in th' swamp. I ain't really decided yet."

She stormed out. Sam looked from Warren to Remy with a shrug.

"Sounds like a plan," he said, and followed her.

Cecilia said, "You guys are such idiots." Then she was gone, too.

Warren Worthington and Remy LeBeau were left in an empty room, frowning at each other uncomfortably.

"Not my fault dis time," Remy repeated.

"Please stop talking."

"Jus' sayin'..."

"Please."

Remy sighed, nodded to him, and walked out the door. Warren felt his fingernails digging into his palms. He almost expected the shadow to show up and taunt him, but it left him alone. He wondered if that should have made him feel better or worse.

Better, he decided. Worse wasn't possible. One way or another, he had to make this right.

****

New Orleans
The Danger Room

Paige Guthrie woke with a splitting headache, and thought: *I knew there'd be trouble if they left me behind. Just figured it'd be for them an' not for me...*

She was lying flat on her back on a pile of charred wood that used to be the bar of the Danger Room, the saloon Remy LeBeau had secured for his X-Factor teammates to use for a front. As of right this second, the front wasn't working out real well.

Paige climbed to her feet and nearly collapsed again. There was a nasty gash in her thigh, along with some other superficial damage. She crawled into the office and undressed, so she could husk out of it without destroying her clothes. Not that they weren't pretty well destroyed already, but at least she wouldn't flash the patrons. When she was decent again, Paige pulled a sheet of paper out of the desk, went to the inkwell, and-- cursing the lack of ballpoint pens in the 1860's-- scrawled the words "CLOSED FOR REPAIRS" on it. It was true enough. She'd just hang that on the door so she and Jono could...

"Jono!"

Paige cursed herself for being so rattled; the last she'd heard of Jonothon Starsmore-- Chamber-- he'd been racing in from the back room and had suddenly fallen silent. (*last issue) If those same thugs who'd trashed the bar had hurt him, Paige would...

What? She didn't even know where to find them. All she knew was, they were unhappy friends of Remy's. They could join the club.

Paige skidded to a halt at the door to the back room. It was off its hinges, most of the bottles inside broken and the shelves overturned. Under one of the shelves:

"NO!"

Jonothon Starsmore lay on his stomach, nearly crushed by the weight of the thing, not breathing. Of course, Chamber *never* breathed, but Paige didn't think it was a good sign.

She husked into metal, ignoring her clothes this time, and smashed the shelf with a couple of blows, dragging Jono out from under it.

"Aw, no... no no no no no... please, Jono, don't..."

She turned him over, and would have been blasted on the spot if she hadn't been nice and metallic. The psionic energy chamber in his chest that gave him his name was still active. That was the good news. Bad news, it was raging a bit out of control, and Paige wasn't sure what was causing it. All she could think of to do was wake him up and hope he could get it together.

"Jono... hey, c'mon! C'mon, th' repair bill's gonna be high enough!" She started shaking him, but he was out cold... Paige didn't know what she'd do if she couldn't revive him.

She growled softly, under her breath. *What're you dreamin' about that's so important, Jono?*

****

The Massachusetts Academy
Almost 150 Years Later
Reality 616 (sort of)

*There's snow on the ground,* Jonothon Starsmore thinks. *That's wrong.*

But he doesn't know why. He does know he's walking through the woods beside Angelo-- Skin-- talking about Paige Guthrie. She's coming back today, Sean's bringing her, and he's scared to death and doesn't want to see her. Actually he can't wait to see her, but he's scared to death of that, so he pretends he doesn't want to.

Angelo tries to joke with him, and that doesn't go over well. It's been a long time since Chamber had anything approaching a sense of humor. Being deformed by your own freakish psi-energy makes a bloke a bit standoffish.

Then the truck pulls up and Angelo's gone and Sean's there but he barely notices and Paige-- Lord, she looks pretty!-- she's hugging him and talking a mile a minute and Jono just wants to get OUT of there because he's totally unprepared and she's talking and talking and she kisses his cheek and--

>>Um, Paige, uh... I just remembered that I was supposed to meet up with Angelo.<<

"Oh. Um, okay. Can we get together later tonight then?"

>>Maybe. If not tonight, you know, we'll hook up sooner or later. Whatever.<<

Whatever. How can eight little letters sound so stupid in retrospect?

--That's the moment, isn't it?-- says a voice...

Jono suddenly snapped out of the memory. He was standing at a distance, watching it as if on a movie screen from the middle of a great blackness... a blackness that is shadow, a shadow that is a man... or a person, anyway. It seems to be all around him.

>>What the 'ell?<< Jono looked around... the image of him walking away from Paige was still on the screen.

--That's the moment where it all fell apart. The moment you wish you could undo--

>>Undo the past? What're you, flippin' Dr. Who?<<

--You know who I am.--

Jono started to object, then realized. >>Slayer, right, chum?<<

--My reputation precedes me.--

>>If yer like. Can't say I appreciate some bloke pokin' about me 'ead... rotten manners, y'ask me.<<

The shadow coalesced to a form, standing next to him. --Forgive me, Jonothon Starsmore. You were not my first choice.--

>>Ah, that's good ter know.<<

--You were hers, though. Her first choice. As his lack of interest has driven me to you, so yours drove her to him.--

>>Yer referrin' ter Angel? Yer been talkin' to that git?<<

The shadow laughed. --You're not a very polite young man. I can see why she tired of you.--

>>Shove off.<<

Chamber turned to regard the thing... but when he looked at it, all he saw was himself. As he used to be, with a face and a smile and all. Rather an evil smile, but it was still an improvement.

--Foolish child,-- it said. --Why did you go to Weapon X? Don't you know you can look like this anytime you want?--

His eyebrows knitted together... would have been a frown if he'd been as fortunately endowed as his mirror image. Jono didn't quite remember what he'd done for Weapon X... He knew it had been a grand gesture, at least partly inspired by unrequited... whatever... for Paige, but as to what he'd actually *done*... he seemed to be remembering all that from a very great distance.

--That's the reality shift working,-- the thing explained helpfully. --Certain things, the Witch had to... alter... to make it all fit. Be thankful you're not Cecilia Reyes. She used to be *dead*.--

>>Lucky 'er,<< Chamber thought. >>'Ave to be more fun than this.<<

--Black humor. You all try humor, it denies the seriousness of your situation. I understand that. What you must understand, Jonothon, is the nature of what you are.--

>>Right this second?<< He telepathically 'laughed.' >>Bit early in the day for a philosophy class, ain't it?<<

The shadow gestured at the screen. >>You are not crude flesh like them. You are better, like me. You are Psi. But if it's flesh you want... you can have any you like.<<

Jono turned back-- and jumped. While his eyes had followed its gesture, the shadow had morphed... into Warren Worthington.

--Tell me it doesn't appeal to you,-- the shadow said. --To be him. To be no longer... a freak? He has everything you want... including her. But he's only got a feeble, human brain. You could take it from him so easily... I could show you how...<<

>>GET OUT!!!<< Chamber snarled, and blasted it full-strength. Psionic energy crackled between them. For a moment, the thing disappeared... then it reformed.

--Ahh,-- it said, as though satiating some great thirst. --Yes, your energies taste *so* sweet. Will you please do that again?--

Jono charged it, furious: >>Get out of me 'ead, yer flamin' sadistic wanker, an' never come back! I may be a freak, like yer say, but I don't sell out me mates! EVER!<<

The thing regarded him in some surprise. --Not even if THIS could have been the result? Think about it...--

The shadow disappeared and the memory restarted, almost like the projectionist had just put on a new real:

He's in the moment again, running away from Paige, but suddenly he looks down at himself...

No more psionic furnace. Instead he's tall and tanned and handsome, like Angel, and he suddenly realizes there's nothing to be afraid of...

"Paige, wait!" he says, and runs to her. "I'm sorry, luv, I guess I was just... I don't know what I was thinking. Of *course* I missed you, Sunshine. I... I love you."

And Paige smiles at him and he takes her in his arms and kisses her and then--

****

Now

BOOM!!!

The world erupted in a blaze of psionic energy as Jono regained consciousness. To his astonishment, Paige *was* kissing him, although it was an older Paige in a metal husk, and he pushed her away in shock The room around them was trashed and reeked of spilled bottles and burned wood...

>>Sorry,<< he said, regaining his composure. >>That, erm, always seems to happen when you... Paige, what the 'ell?"

"FINALLY!" she said. "I tried everything to wake you up! You were blasting stuff all over the place..."

>>I... was?<<

"See for yourself!" She gestured around the room. "I tried shaking you an' slapping you an' splashing you, an' I was afraid th' whole place'd go up like a tinderbox, so I figured if anything would wake you, that... y'know, like a Sleeping Beauty thing..."

>>Don't flatter yerself, Sunshine,<< said Chamber, climbing shakily to his feet.

Paige blushed. "Look, I just-- I needed you to wake up, an' I was real worried, an'--"

>>You were, eh?<<

"I didn't mean anything by it!" she snapped, hands on her hips.

>>'Course not. But Paige, you had no right ter...<<

"Don't you dare tell me what I got the right to do!" Paige pointed at the door. "You were almost dead and... and... Get out!"

He arched an eyebrow. >>You're tossin' me out on me ear for that? I've said far worse than that!<<

"I gotta husk, you idiot! Go hunt me up some new clothes, huh?"

He laughed in his mind. >>Oh, right away, mum. Will ordinary clothes suffice, or will yer want yer Sunday best?<<

"I don't care if it's a potato sack; just go!"

Two minutes later, after a bit of embarrassing hunting, Jono tossed a new dress and... stuff... into the back room, then waited outside with his back to the door while she dressed. He surveyed the place while he waited; somebody else had smashed up the front about as badly as his power had totaled the back. Jono still didn't remember who'd started it or why, only that there had been a... presence... behind him, and then he'd felt dizzy, and then that dream...

Blasted dream. He wished he could get it out of his head.

The door behind him creaked open. Paige stepped out, complete in 1860's regalia. "You got lousy taste, y'know? This don't match th' hat at *all*..."

Jono arched an eyebrow: >>But it's not a potato sack, eh, luv?<<

"Whatever." She sighed, looking around as Jono had. "They said this was a message for Remy."

>>It was, eh? Watch me be shocked...<<

"How'd they nail you? I mean-- one second you were talkin' to me, an' the next..."

>>I dunno,<< Jono admitted. >>Not my night, I guess. Paige... I'm sorry. I didn't mean ter..."

"Whatever," she said again. Stepping out to what had been the bar, Paige suddenly stopped and reached down for something. "Hey, Jono, lookit this..."

BANG! One of the windows shattered, and with it one of the few remaining bottles on the far wall. If Paige hadn't ducked just at the right moment, her head would have been on a direct trajectory between them.

>>Down!<< Jono shouted, knocking her to the ground even as another round exploded through the opposite window.

"Found some kinda calling card," Paige breathed, from the floor. "From one a' the Guilds, prob'ly. How many of 'em out there?"

Jono risked lifting his head long enough for a peek-- but only a peek. >>No idea.<<

"Easy way to find out..." Paige husked to bulletproof steel and stood, charging to the window.

No further shots rang out. She stuck her head out, looked both ways, then yanked it back inside and cursed.

"Nothin'! Where do they get off, huh? Who are these clowns?"

>>Dunno,<< Jono said. He stood and dusted himself off. >>But I think we best get out of 'ere, luv. Somebody's too close.<<

"Somebody's gonna hurt *bad*," she said.

>>Got to get their guns away from 'em, first.<<

"No, I meant Remy."

>>Ah,<< said Jono. >>When you thrash 'im, save a piece fer me.<<

"You bet," said Paige, and they ran for the back door.

Jono held up both hands when they got there. >>Wait, wait... slow down there, Sunshine. I don't think I like this..."

"Eh?" said Paige, already reaching for the door.

He pressed against the wall, thinking hard. >>Seems to me, if I wanted ter scare a lad out th' back door, first thing I'd do is put some shots through th' front.<<

Paige frowned. "You think they're waitin' for us?"

>>One way ter find out...<<

Jono steeled himself, stepped in front of the door, and blasted from his psionic chamber. The door was reduced to splinters, and beyond it...

Three large men in long coats, apparently unaffected by the burst. Their leader was a swarthy fellow whose voice Jono recognized from the previous night.

"Dat was rude of you, p'tit. Advise y'all to step back inside."

"Aw, what're you doin' back? Didn't you finish up last night?"

The man pulled up his jowls in a smile. "Last night we send de message. Today we tie up de loose ends."

Paige stepped forward, fists clenched, and only Jono's quick grab of her arm held her back. "Mister, I don't think you know who you're talkin' to..."

"*Certainment.* I'm talkin' to de X-Men, non?"

>>Well,<< said Jono, as his partner stammered over the realization that they were known here, >>sort of eccentric X-Men, y'might say...<<

"Dat be close enough."

Paige pushed Jono behind her, regaining her footing: "Okay, so ya know who we are. You ever tangled with an X-Man, tubby?"

"Can't say I had dat pleasure," said the man, stone-faced.

"Well, now ya have."

BAM! Paige husked to stone and popped him right in the jaw. The fellow flew a good long way, but got up immediately, while his two colleagues closed ranks in front of him and advanced.

>>Aw, thanks fer this, luv,<< Jono said. >>I was afraid we might -not- have to fight again...<<

While Paige hammered the guy on the left, Jono blasted the one on the right... but the energy only seemed to skate around him harmlessly. The guy reached out, grabbed Jono by the hair, and flung him against the wall.

Paige disposed of his friend and turned on him, livid. "Y'all's about the worst-mannered bunch I ever met. Be my pleasure t' lick some sense into ya..."

Something about the way she said that registered dimly with Jono, even as she hit the last thug and sent him sprawling. There was no time to think about it, though. He was already running, grabbing Paige's arm as she ducked under a blow from the lead goon, who had just returned.

>>C'mon, Sunshine... yer doin' sod-all against this lot, an' I'm doin' less. Time ter run...<<

"But--"

>>Paige,<< he said, staring at her desperately. >>Please.<<

"Awright." She turned and delivered a tremendous punch to the leader's torso. Again he fell, but again he popped up like a spring. Still, Paige had bought them room to run. They dodged down a series of dark and confusing alleys, at first hearing footsteps behind them the whole time.

Eventually the footsteps faded, and Jono called a halt. Paige panted for breath. He didn't, but he was plenty tired all the same. He ripped a curtain out of an unattended window nearby and tossed it to Paige.

>>Here. In case yer don't fancy walkin' about as stone all afternoon.<<

Paige looked at the thing doubtfully, but shrugged. "Thanks. Ah declare th' best part of our funding's gonna go t'keep me in clothes..."

Jono couldn't help himself; he looked away, trying to hide his amusement. It didn't exactly work; Paige gave him a dirty look.

"What?"

>>'Ah declare... y'all...' Yer accent's showin', Sunshine. I mean yer *other* accent, worse'n the regular Yank one.<<

She grimaced harder. "You know I don't like t'be reminded a' that..."

>>I was only thinking... yer must've been pretty worried. About something.<<

"I was," she said, the accent hiding again as she wrapped the curtain around her. "I was afraid he might not kill ya slow enough."

Jono supposed he deserved that. He felt a warm glow anyway...

...or maybe that was the glow from something going up in flames a few blocks away, sending a cloud of black smoke high into the air. Jono and Paige shared a look.

>>Is that ther... whatchacallit... bluecoats?<<

Paige shook her head. "Yankees don't take th' city till next year. Sam told me when we moved in."

Jono nodded. "Ten to one that was the Danger Room, then."

"No bet." Paige cursed under her breath. "What d'you think they're after? How'd Remy manage to..."

>>...get 'em so whacking mad, so fast?<< He shrugged. >>I'd assumed it was natural talent.<<

"Could be. Or maybe somethin' more. Either way, we need a place to lie low for a while, try to figure 'em out..."

Another nod. >>Any ideas on that score?<<

"One," she said, and smiled. Jono wasn't certain he liked that odd light in her eyes, not one little bit...

****

Sam Guthrie hadn't said a word to Warren since blasting off from Richmond. Now, though, as the New Orleans skyline came into view, he arced a little closer to the Angel and called to him:

“Has it occurred t'you that this might be a trap? All you got to go on is a vision, an' s'pose this nasty lied t'you?"

“You want to stake Paige's life on that?”

Sam made a face and turned away. Warren wondered if that had been the most politic way to put it. A moment later, he sighed.

“It's not a trap. It was real.”

“You know that 'cause...?”

“I just know.”

“Trap or not,” Sam said after a moment, “reckon we got to spring it.”

“Me, too.”

They stayed as high as they could passing over the city-- Warren had no doubt they caused a few near-heart attacks anyway, but he had neither time nor patience for stealth. They approached the *Vieux Carré*, the French Quarter of New Orleans. Remy had set up the Danger Room for them in a little nook just off Bourbon Street...

...a nook which, apparently, did not exist anymore.

“Oh, my Lord,” breathed Warren. He gave up stealth and hit the earth running, while Sam blasted past him, then circled around for a second look. The Danger Room was a gutted, burned-out wreck, now doused by the local fire brigade but still sending up little streamers of soot into the air.

A woman screamed when he came in for his landing. The leader of the fire brigade, a dumpy fellow with a handlebar mustache, backed away when Sam ran up to him.

“You... you... stay back!”

Sam grabbed him by the lapels. “Look, I got a real great explanation for th' flying, but I ain't got time t'give it an' you wouldn't b'lieve me, so let's just forget you ever saw that, huh?”

Someone else started cursing in French. One of the men drew a pistol, and Warren wrenched it out of his hand.

“Was anybody in there when it burned?” Sam demanded. “Look, I'm one a' th' owners! Answer me!"

“We... probably could have done this better,” Warren said. Rogue, no doubt, would have, but their theoretically cool head was with Gambit, paying a call on his friend Guillaume.

“Monster!” somebody cried. An empty bottle bounced off one of Warren's wings and shattered on the ground.

“We got no time for this,” Sam said again. He picked up the fire marshal and blasted several feet into the air with him, out of reach of the crowd. “Concentrate, friend! Was there a young woman in there? Or an English guy? Anybody?”

“No-- no!” the man said, waving his arms. “The building was empty! Please-- please let me down!”

Sam did-- straight down, trusting Warren to break free of the crowd below and catch him. This he did, dusting the fellow off and straightening his collar for him.

“Uh... we're sorry about this. It's been a bad day...”

The man took a swing at him. Warren pushed him away and took off, barely shaking his ankle out of the grip of some concerned citizen. He joined Sam in the air.

“Way to keep our cover up.”

“Aw, you was just as worried as me...”

“That's right, I was.” Warren growled softly. “You really don't think I'd endanger Paige on purpose, do you?”

“Warren, right now I don't much care. I got a more important question: If Paige ain't in there, where'd she go?”

Warren considered that. “On the run, I guess.”

“From?”

“If I knew that, Sam, I'd be a happy man.” He gestured to the left, and he and Sam banked away from the city, the better to approach again undercover and on foot. “We seriously can't go back to the tavern now.”

“We weren't gonna get a lot'a use out of a pile a' cinders belonging to the Thieves Guild, anyhow.”

“Point taken,” said Warren. “But now it'll be harder to look for Paige.”

“Nope,” Sam said. “I got an idea where she'll go. Follow me...”

****

"Y'know what I like about you, Remy? You always take me interesting places..."

Remy LeBeau's red eyes gleamed in the dark as he turned to Rogue. "Dat *la verite*, cher. Hush now. Got to concentrate..."

They had just climbed to the top of one of the Pontalba Buildings that lined Jackson Square, at the center of New Orleans. The bottom floors were given over to commerce, but the apartments at the top would still be occupied in their own time, 150 years hence. Presumably not by the same people, although with the Thieves' Guild, one never knew...

Remy smiled when he reached the top of the stairs and motioned Rogue back, creeping carefully from apartment to apartment. When he found the one he wanted, he pulled a pin out of his coat, charged it to a warm, reddish glow, and slid it into the lock...

POW! The door swung open. Remy stepped into the doorway.

"Guillaume!"

Something-- dark, sleek, and with eyes that glowed red like Remy's-- slammed into him almost immediately, knocking the Cajun back against the wall. Rogue's first thought was that it might have been another of Nathaniel Essex's Marauders (*issue #2), her second that it might actually be the Slayer entity. It was neither-- just a man-shaped wraith with a bad temper. It held out a hand toward Remy's forehead; some sort of energy crackled between them.

"HEY!" said Rogue. She blasted the thing with fire, full-strength. It sailed down the hall, skidding on its rear. Rogue hurried to Remy's side...

"Critter made me dizzy," Gambit said. "I rest a minute, I be fine. Mind yo'self..."

Rogue turned, just as the wraith attacked again. She put up a defensive plasma field in time; the thing extended its hands and energy crackled...

"ARGH!" Rogue gasped, overwhelmed as her field suddenly doubled in intensity and the feedback knocked her back. "Remy, look out! He's an energy manipulator! He turned mah own field against me!"

"Guess I don' use no cards, den," Gambit said, swiping the thing's legs out from under it with his staff. "Lucky I got other talents..."

He was on the wraith's stomach in a moment, hands at its throat... at the same moment that it disappeared, and something cold and hard rested against Remy's temple.

"Bang, LeBeau," said a weathered voice. "You *dead.*"

Remy sighed. "Guillaume..."

Rogue was on her feet now. The man behind him, an ancient, gnarled Cajun with brown skin like shoe leather, chuckled softly. He wasn't any small threat; Rogue had seen him absorb the wraith into himself as though it was nothing.

"Je suis désolé, children, if I started you. Peeshwank like me--" The word meant 'runt,' "he got t'use every advantage. 'Specially when a couple strangers come 'round his home wit' no invitation to make the misere."

"You think we make trouble now, mon ami," said Remy, climbing to his feet with no help from Guillaume, "wait'll you see what come nex'. You broke yo' word t' me."

The old man's thin lips spread wide, revealing yellowed teeth. "Guild don' break a promise made to it's own, LeBeau. Not even to 'le diable blanc'... if dat what you is."

Remy glared at him. "No, we don' break deals... 'till a better come along."

"None has."

"Not what we heard, sugar," said Rogue, entering the conversation. "We heard you sent a couple'a fellas 'round to our place the other night. Hurt a couple friends of ours."

Guillaume arched a gray eyebrow. "My eye! I own part o' dat place. Somebody hurt you, he hurt me. Why I do dat t' myself??"

"Might be, you play both sides," Remy said, glowering over the little man. "Guild been know t'do dat."

Guillaume inclined his head. "We *thieves*, LeBeau, not social workers. 'Course we lie..."

Rogue laughed. "Told ya."

"...but we *clever* 'bout it. Hope you don' think dis old Papere a fool."

"Never," Gambit said, lips pressed together. "Hope *you* don' mind if we check yo' bodyguards fo' ourselves, make sure none o' dem de man we want."

Guillaume laughed. "Y'all *met* my bodyguard, p'tit. Got no other-- jus' my own talents. Might be you noticed dem. Dey keep me alive, all dese years o' misery. Don' trust nobody else."

Remy and Rogue shared a look, deciding how much to accept. The Cajun said, "How can I b'lieve you, mon ami? Never heard o' anything in Guild hist'ry like you. Dunno what other secrets you might hide."

"Well..." Guillaume smiled and, for a moment, his eyes shone red like the wraiths. "You know a good bit 'bout de Guild, LeBeau, mebbe more'n a man should. But not evert'ing."

They stood at an impasse for a moment; Rogue didn't know whether the little man was an early mutant, a magical entity, or something else. But even in New Orleans-- relatively speaking, the easiest place in the old Confederacy for a freed black to make his way, thanks to its multiracial heritage-- a man like Guillaume wouldn't have accrued such power without a considerable edge. If they had to take him on, Rogue preferred to do so with her whole team.

"C'mon," she said to Remy, taking his hand in one of her gloves. "Sorry t' trouble y'all, Mr. Guillaume. Maybe we'll meet again."

"Ah, tres belle mademoiselle, dat be a pleasure." He bowed low over her hand, but for just a moment, his eyes met hers, and were icy cold. "Fo' me."

Gambit deliberately placed himself between them. Rogue took the first step in the other direction.

"LeBeau," Guillaume said, after they'd gone a few steps. "You find who hurt dese friends o' your'n, mebbe you send word t' me. Dat be family business, y'see. Guild don' look kindly on dat."

Remy nodded to him. "Merci, Papere."

"*De rien*."

The little man shuffled back into his rooms. Gambit and Rogue shared a look, and walked back down the stairs.

****

“D'you know what this reminds me of?” Paige Guthrie whispered. She lay flat on her chest on wooden boards that rocked underneath her, with a blanket covering her from head to foot.

>>Don't say it,<< Jonothan Starsmore said. Unlike Paige, he didn't have to keep his voice down. If any of their pursuers were telepaths and able to hear his speech, they were probably already dead.

"I was thinkin' of that time we were trapped out on the ocean..."

>>Don't say it,<< Jono repeated.

"I was *so* ticked off at you that day. It was all your fault, y'know... you were acting like an..."

>>Yeh, so I'll never be living that down...<< Jono affected a telepathic sigh-- no mean trick, without a mouth. >>YOU picked the boats.<<

Paige glanced over; she had no problem seeing him, even under the heavy blanket. Jono's psionic chamber made a handy little night-light. Hopefully none of it leaked out to give them away.

As a rule, Paige didn't like running, or admitting she needed help of any sort, but that calling card argued these guys had powerful friends. So did she.

"I toldja, Sam'll know to look for us here. It's kinda the punchline to a family joke..."

>>Hilarious,<< said Jono. >>Fer all y'know, they'll be another week in Richmond, and won't even miss us. What then, eh?<<

"Then..." Paige bit her lip. "We'll just hafta figure a way to take these guys out on our own."

>>That's grand. Easy-peasy. Only my power doesn't faze them and yours only knocks 'em down.<<

"I noticed. What d'you think they are?"

Jono frowned. >>Do I look like the flippin' Brittanica of alternate dimensions, luv?<<

Paige turned the other way. Suddenly the blankets seemed too close. "I was only trying to figure 'em out. You don't gotta be so rude."

>>Rude? I...<< he hesitated. Paige felt his hand on her shoulder. "Yer right. Sorry again. You... set me on edge, Paige. Yer always 'ave.<<

"Yeah." She turned back. "Y'know... Warren an' I... it just happened. I didn't mean to..."

>>I know.<<

"Anyhow, you got over me first. Remember that crummy Spice Girl wannabe?"

Jono's eyebrows knitted together. >>I 'm tryin' not to, luv.<<

"Yeah, well... there ya go."

>>Yeah.<< He closed his eyes. >>Paige, I...<<

Whatever he was going to say, he never got the chance. The blankets were suddenly ripped off, and they found themselves staring up at their familiar trio of friends.

"Peekaboo, children. Nowhere left to run."

****

Sam Guthrie didn't say a word, just walked from boat to boat at the landings at Lake Pontchartrain, north of the city, checking up on the fishermen and sorting through their belongings if there were any to speak of. Any who objected, he met with a *look* that would have melted Apocalypse and walked on to the next one, while Warren Worthington tried to keep up.

"You know, Sam, this is definitely a side of you I've never seen before..."

"This is th' side that wants to kick your ass, Mr. Worthington. Suggest you don't make a habit o' seeing it."

Warren frowned. "Paige isn't your baby sister anymore..."

"Nope, she's somethin' worse. She's my momma's little girl. You got any idea how dead I'll be if I don't get her home safe an' sound?"

Warren thought of the formidable woman he'd met when he'd visited the Guthries some months back, and shuddered. "My sympathies, Sam..."

"Save 'em. She'll be loadin' the shotgun for two."

"Then I guess we'll have to find her." Warren sighed. But where...? Even in the Civil War era, New Orleans was a *huge* city, and... "What makes you think she'll be here, anyway?"

Sam shrugged. "When Paige was about six years old, she run off. We looked for her near four hours. I finally found her down by th' lake, hidin' in an old fishin' boat. When I asked her what she was doin', she said she was bored with home and was gonna run off t' be a pirate..."

Warren blinked. "A pirate?"

"Well, she was six. I wanted to be a Transformer at that age, m'self... Anyhow, I used to tease her about it. She told me once, if I woke up some mornin' an' found her gone, that's where she'd be: out on the Spanish Main." Sam gestured around them. "Or at least on a big freakin' lake, I hope."

The Angel frowned. "You think she remembers that, after all this time?"

"Well, I did. It's a hope, anyhow. You got a better idea?"

"Unfortunately, no." Warren arched an eyebrow. "I'm seeing new sides of *all* the Guthries today. I wonder if she still likes pirates?"

Sam looked at him cross-eyed. "Why?"

"Uh... no reason."

"You're not makin' me want to kill you any less, Worthington..."

Warren started to say something, then stopped and grabbed Sam's arm. "Over there...!"

By a dock just a few feet away, a trio of large men were laboring over... something. A net full of fish, or...

...or a struggling, badly scarred kid who lashed out again and again with his psionic energy, to no avail?

"Yeah, *that's* new," Warren said, leaping into the sky with a flap of his wings.

He was going to be last to the party. For one thing, Jono's psi-blasts disintegrated the boat, revealing some kind of dark, rubbery shape-- one of Paige's husked forms. Unnaturally fast, she grabbed one of their attackers and ran a quick half-circle to build up momentum. Then she flung him far into the lake, where he landed with a splash that made the fishermen take notice.

The party *really* started when Sam blasted into one of the other two fellows at roughly Warp Factor Five. The unfortunate target didn't behave like a human. He... cracked, as though he was nothing more than an animated statue. Then he shattered to pieces and blew away with the dust.

"Holy--!" Paige murmured, standing transfixed. That moment cost her. The remaining attacker grabbed her throat in one hand and Jono in the other. While they struggled, he opened some kind of portal and stepped into it...

"No! PAIGE!" Warren cried. He swooped toward the spot...

Their eyes met for a moment. The portal closed. Warren swept through empty air, landing on his hands and knees in the mud. He snarled and splashed and punched the water, feeling tears of frustration in his eyes...

Sam's hand fell on his shoulder. "Yup. Momma's gonna kill us."

"DAMMIT! We HAD her! We..."

"Easy, mon ami," said a quiet voice, from a few feet away. Gambit, with Rogue beside him. "*Fait pas un esquandal.*"

The Cajun French, translated, meant 'Don't make such a racket.' Warren turned on him with murderous eyes...

Gambit hefted his staff. "Figured out who dey was, I reckon. Ain't so bad as it looks, mebbe."

"We *knew* who he was. The one who took them was in my vision. He said he was Guillaume."

"No," said Rogue. "He said he had a *message* from Guillaume."

"Dat what you'd call dramatic license, mon ami. Message was actually *fo'* Guillaume. From de Assassin's Guild."

"The Assassin's Guild?" Sam said. "But they never had anything like..."

"Yeh, I know. We still workin' on dat part. But de tells are dere, y'see. Guillaume's an energy manipulator, an' dey built to be immune to him like dey immune to Jono. Only it hasn't worked, so dey figure dey trick us t' do their dirty on de ol' man, leavin' dem free to go after us when we done."

"Decent plan," said Rogue, "but they ain't gonna like what happens now that it's our turn."

Remy frowned at her. "You sure 'bout dat, cher? You know inter-Guild squabbles get... messy."

"Don't care," said Rogue. "This is family business."

She turned and walked away, along with Sam. Remy remained behind with Warren, twirling his staff experimentally. "Best you come away, mon ami. De natives get restless."

Indeed, a few feet away a knot of fishermen was gaping and shouting and all but sharpening their pitchforks. Warren waved at them. "Let 'em come."

"Hey... we lose de hand. Not de game."

"Get out of here, Remy. I really need... a minute. Please."

Remy frowned at him, then turned and followed the others. Warren waited... and then, at last, the shadow appeared-- as a great cloud *between* him and the fisherman, sending them away in a panic. Then it coalesced to a more conventional shape.

--You told them about me, Warren Worthington. I wish you hadn't.--

"Was that what this was?" Warren asked. "An object lesson?"

--Indeed. If you will not work with me to save her... there are others who will."

Warren's eyes flashed. "Such as?"

--Irrelevant. What you must know now is this: If you utter another word to them, this ends and she dies. Understood?--

Still crouched in the mud, shivering and angry, Warren Worthington felt very little like an Angel. So it was the easiest thing in the world to open his mouth and say:

"Yes."

The shadow almost smiled.

****

The trip through the portal was like traipsing through Wonderland on Nightcrawler's back. When they arrived at their destination, Paige was too sick to speak, much less protest as she and Jono were thrown in a tiny room together and the door locked.

It might have been an hour or a year before she felt Jono leaning over her, holding her hand tight in both of us. With unaccustomed tenderness, he leaned down and nuzzled his face against hers-- as much of a kiss as he could hope to deliver.

Paige sat straight up and contemplated slapping him. Instead, she just glared. "What--"

>>Needed yer t'wake up, Sunshine. Sauce fer the goose, etcetera...<<

Paige sighed. "Fair enough. Damn! If we'd only had another second... Sam an' Warren were right there!"

>>They were,<< said Jono, >>an' someone else besides.<<

"Someone... else?"

>>That shadow bugger... the 'Slayer' Phoebe warned us about.<< Jono looked unhappy. >>I saw 'im for a second, on the edge of the crowd, like he was waiting for something He set this up somehow, I know it.<<

"But how did you know *him*?"

>>Because I saw 'im before!<< The young man's psionic furnace burned brighter. >>He spoke to me... while I was out before. Thought it was a dream. It was real. The wanker's *real*, Paige, an' he's playin' us against each other.<<

He climbed to his feet. So did Paige, snatching at his arm.

"Against each other? What're you talkin' about?"

Jono stared at her oddly for a moment. >>Warren... never mentioned anything? Not in any of his letters?<<

"Warren? Has that thing hurt Warren? Jono, you're not makin' sense..."

>>No,<< he said wearily. >>I'm not, I guess. Forget it, luv. I don't... never mind.<<

"Jono," she said, more seriously, "whatever you think of him, Warren wouldn't lie to me."

>>I know,<< said the man called Chamber, and he squared his shoulders. >>Get ready.<<

"Wait-- he's still out there!"

>>Then you'll make 'im regret that, luv. I'm just the bloke holdin' the door.<< His chamber was now glowing very bright, brighter than Paige had ever seen it.

"Jono, be careful! Let's talk about..."

>>Careful? Look who's talking, Sunshine. This bugger's been using us for pawns, and I've just lost me sense of humor about the whole flippin' mess.<<

Jono stood before the door, crackling with energy, and unleashed the full force of his psionic furnace-- every bit of power he could summon, and some he must never have imagined trying to use.

>>Game over,<< he said.

Paige braced herself. The door, the room, and Chamber himself went: BOOM.

END

In Issue #5: Family Business
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