Chapter Text
Before the sun even had a chance to rise, a fresh one million dollar deposit was made into the secure account of Remy LeBeau. To say he wasn’t impressed would be a lie. The brotherhood was known for telling lies, yet Rogue delivered right away on the initial payment before the day’s activities began.
According to a text she’d sent him last night, they were going to meet up with a pair of mutants who’d agreed to lend a hand with their mission. Sage, who was some kind of tech genius, and her partner Bishop. They were freelance mutant detectives who usually kept their nose out of the spotlight, opting to work in the shadows instead. Frankly, Gambit didn’t care about ‘Rosemary’ and ‘Rook’ or whatever the hell their names were. With his hands in the pockets of his well loved trench coat, his mind drifted back to Rogue and her insane quest– well, their insane quest now. It was well known by anyone with a pulse that a touch from Rogue’s skin meant certain death, but he’d never guessed she couldn’t just turn off her abilities like a lightswitch. Did that mean she’d never held another? Had she truly never felt the passionate embrace of a kiss, tasted that distinct flavour of spit and skin? It was something he’d taken for granted, kissing people like it meant nothing. To his new partner, it meant everything.
Standing in front of a hipster cafe across the street, his ruby irises spotted her brown and white hair immediately. Her long black trench coat almost mirrored his, but not quite as long. It made him wonder how she’d look swamped in his coat which smelt of cigarettes and sin. The two mutants nodded at each other as their eyes met, acknowledging that they were no longer enemies, but allies. Instead of fighting like cats and dogs, they entered the trendy door covered in shrubbery together.
Remy didn’t need Rogue to point out the table they were heading to. Sitting in the furthest corner towards the back, a woman with deep red glasses that reminded him of the ones covering his own eyes sat furiously typing on a laptop. Beside her a tall muscular man sat alert, turning to check out every single noise he heard from coffee pouring to footsteps on the marble floors. He was almost like the petite girl’s guard dog, intimidating anyone who might even dare look at her the wrong way. Though frankly, he got the impression that the girl didn’t need protection.
Rogue took a seat first, giving a polite nod to the duo she’d known for quite some time. The native Cajun took her lead, lighting a cigarette with his fingers. The moment the kinetic energy hit the edge of the cigarette, Bishop pushed it to the floor, stomping it out.
“You trying to get us caught?” He grumbled, staring daggers into Gambit. Already, Bishop disliked the man due to his reputation as the king of thieves. He was a weasel, a rat. A good for nothing who he didn’t want to work with. Rogue was a loyal client however, which meant he’d bite his tongue about his true feelings. Still, it felt good to bark orders at him for that damned cigarette. “Besides, who the hell smokes inside?”
“This here’s my turf, Rook. They ain’t gonna tell Gambit to put out his light.” A simple shrug was the only reaction Remy gave, keeping calm and collected as his partner beside him found herself sweating bullets. Great. Not exactly a great start. Bishop tried to retort with his proper name to correct the thief, but was interrupted by the raven haired beauty beside him. Clearing her throat she spoke up for the first time that day.
“If you boys are done quarreling like children in the schoolyard, I have the map to the Trask Industries facility opened up.”
Sage was a no nonsense kind of girl, and with the task at hand, Anna Marie was thankful to be in her company.
“The facility isn’t public knowledge. From the outside, it’s disguised as regular Trask office buildings– the marketing building to be exact. There are 4 entrances you could enter through,” on cue four different parts of her diagram lit up.
“The one highlighted in red is the front door. You’d have a 95.67% chance of getting caught if you went through there. The one in blue is the trash chute. It would be easy for Rogue to fly up, but if Gambit were to climb up the walls they’d likely be too slippery. The yellow section is the back door. While less obvious than the front, it’s still used frequently. Many employees use it for smoke breaks. Thus, the area highlighted in green is your best bet. The vents. You can access them via the rooftop, but you’ll have to be careful not to make too much noise. I can remotely activate fans to cover as much noise as I can, but it might not be enough.”
Pondering the information given, Rogue nodded along. Stealth was always Mystique’s thing. She’d tried taking lessons in being sneaky from her, but each session always ended with another frustrated hole in the wall. Needless to say a sturdy punching bag was invested in not too long after.
“Lemme guess, it’s gonna be on the basement level right?” She leaned back in her chair, the white parts of her hair feeling frizzy from the stress of it all.
“Precisely. You’re going to exit the vents on the third floor. I’m hoping the thief you picked up can nab a keycard from an unsuspecting employee. You’ll have to wear disguises, but costumes aren’t my department. Maybe ask your mother-”
Sage bit her tongue, stopping herself from continuing that sentence. Even an outsider such as Remy could tell the mother and daughter had a strained relationship by the sour expression taking over the southern belle’s features.
“Anyways,” Sage continued as if nothing had even happened.
“Once you scan the keycard, the elevator will let you click the basement level. Without it, you’re toast.” Her pale fingers adjusted the glasses on her nose which had began to fall, while her other hand clicked some buttons to close the document.
“I’ve forwarded each of you maps of the building. If you need assistance, I’m a call away.”
The meeting wrapped up with handshakes all around- except for Bishop and Gambit. When the king of thieves offered his hand to the man, he pulled away to be cheeky right as their skin was about to meet. It was a childish prank that only got a grumble in response. Still, such a minimal response had Gambit grinning ear to ear as he and Rogue waltzed down the sidewalk.
“So costumes, hey, Chere? Whatcha thinkin’? Maybe we dress as firefighters? I can do it Magic Mike style if you’d like,” he winked playfully, which resulted in a heavy nudge from Rogue.
“Ha ha, very funny, sugar. Leave the costumes t’ me. Right now, you’ve gotta get your pretty ass in gear and pack your bags. We leave at midnight.”
“And where might we be going, petite?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering his glasses to show the amused glint in his eyes.
“Home sweet home. We’re headin’ to New York City.”