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Chapters
Prolog
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilog
 
 
 

The Vault - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by NicoPony
Last updated: 08/15/2007 08:57:57 AM

Chapter 14

Weapon of Choice. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

I won’t waste it, I won’t waste it, I won’t waste my love on a nation

Everyone’s got their own split factions

Every pawn will pay it’s price

I’ve been digging out in all directions

I’ll see you through to the after life

What is your weapon of choice,

What’s your weapon of choice

There is no weapon to free us all

Remy’s fingers were cramped with the effort of using the small replacement bits to unscrew the tiny screws on his inhibitor. At long last, he was able to remove the outer casing and reveal the inner workings of the device. He paused, carefully considering the little green circuit boards and the various wires and chips. He plucked a few wires loose, but the indicator on the inhibitor continued to read at full power. He shrugged, and then proceeded to smash his wrist repeatedly against the steel leg of his cot.

“Whoa,” Remy gasped, and fell forward onto the cold cement floor. He felt the sudden rush as his powers returned to him. The feeling was almost euphoric. He lay on the floor staring at the ceiling for several minutes. He felt, rather than saw, the flow of energy and the untapped potential power in all the things around him. Eventually, he pulled himself to his feet and moved toward the door. He peered out the window, but saw nothing. He braced his fingers in the window well and tried to jiggle the door. He hoped that the screws he’d shoved into the locking mechanism had prevented the deadbolt from being secured, but the door seemed sound. He put his hand to the door. Through it, he could sense the little polymer screws. He pushed a charge through the door and into the screws. Synthetics charged so nice and even; it must have something to do with their neat little molecular bonds. He held the charge for a moment, then stepped back from the door. The screws, laden with explosively charged kinetic energy, detonated with a muffled pop. The deadbolt jammed back into the steel door, which opened slightly with the force of the explosion. He pulled the door open and looked up and down the hall. He cursed softly upon seeing the security camera set at the far end of the hall.

Remy quickly slipped from his cell and slapped the button that would open St. John’s cell. The door buzzed, and Remy threw it open. St. John didn’t look all that surprised to see Remy standing in the doorway.

“’Ello, Gambit,” he said, while cradling the arm that had been broken in the fight with Blockbuster. “I knew y’wouldn’t leave an ole pal hangin’.”

“I’m almost positive I’m going to regret this later,” Remy said. “I’m beginning to think my sense of loyalty is actually a fatal flaw in my character.”

“Nothing like spending time in solitary confinement for a little self-reflection.”

“Time to skidattle,” Remy said, grabbing hold of Pyro’s good arm and steering him down the hall. “The freak-show in the armor’s bound to be on his way.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” called a voice. A dark figure stepped out from the blind corner at the end of the hall. “The ’freak-show’ is all ready here.”

The Executioner raised his staff and sent a bolt of energy down the corridor. Remy and St. John dove to the floor just as the bolt arced over their heads. There was an explosive blast from behind them as the bolt struck a wall. The Executioner was no longer using kid-gloves. That blast was lethal.

Remy charged the few bits and screws he had left and sent them flying into the Executioner’s masked face. Their opponent was momentarily thrown off guard, unaware that Remy had regained the use of his powers. Remy used the opportunity to gain a few feet on his enemy. The Executioner was ready to fire his weapon again, but Remy kicked it aside. The next blast scorched the nearby wall, blasting loose chunks of cement block.

“Oy!” St. John cried, as he was narrowly missed by the bolt and flying debris.

The Executioner tried to slap Remy aside with the back of his hand. Remy ducked beneath his attacker’s arm. Though the armor slowed his opponent, Remy was at a supreme disadvantage. The guard was heavily protected and much stronger. Remy’s powers worked better at a distance, but he was loathe to step back into the firing range of the staff. His only defense was his speed and agility. He dove toward the Executioner, a move the larger man hadn’t anticipated. Remy twisted slightly to the side, slipping beneath the Executioner’s arm that held the staff. His fingers brushed the guard’s belt as he passed. The guard turned, following Remy’s evasive dive to the floor. He was raising his staff to bring it down on Remy’s head when his belt buckle exploded. The Executioner folded over his stomach and let out a ’whoomph!’ of pain. Remy sprung from the floor and wrapped his arms around the Executioner’s head, blinding him. The Executioner spun, trying to dislodge Remy, who was now clinging to the guard like a monkey.

“Pyro!” Remy cried. “The staff! Grab the staff!”

St. John launched himself at the Executioner’s flailing arm and struggled to pull the staff from the guard’s grip. He was impeded by his broken arm.

The Executioner charged forward, smashing Remy against the wall with enough force to crack ribs. Remy was forced to release his opponent. Now free, the Executioner swung his arm and sent St. John flying into the opposite wall. The Executioner raised his staff, taking aim at Remy’s skull. Just then, the floor gave a powerful shake. The Executioner tottered off balance, and Remy was able to dodge away. The staff struck the wall with a clang. Remy scrambled after a chunk of broken cement, knowing that the guard was about to take another swing at him. He doubted he would have a chance to grab the rock, charge it, turn and throw it at his enemy. He slid the last few inches and seized the broken chunk of cement block. Rock in hand, he turned to see the Executioner taking aim. The end of the staff began to glow as the charge built. The earth trembled again, this time with enough force to shake loose the fluorescent ceiling lights. Walls cracked and the floor buckled. Remy hurled his charged weapon just as the staff fired. Remy closed his eyes and felt the burn of energy on the side of his face and along his neck and shoulder. For an instant, he thought he’d been hit. The roar of an explosion deafened him and the pain was severe. He blacked out for a moment, but then St. John was yanking Remy upright by the front of his coveralls. They jostled against one another as the earthquake continued. Through the sting of sweat and blood in his eyes, Remy spied the Executioner over St. John’s shoulder. A portion of the ceiling collapsed, the falling debris drove the Executioner to the ground. The earthquake abruptly ceased, leaving nothing but the sound of cracking brickwork and sputtering lights. As the dust settled, the two escapees found themselves staring at a new figure.

“Who’s the loser now?” the figure said snidely(1).

“Avalanche?” Remy bewilderedly asked, as he clutched his bleeding ear.

Avalanche stepped over the wreckage of broken cement block. Both St. John and Remy stood warily, looking at the still form of the Executioner laying on the floor. The guard was partially covered with fallen cement. Remy shifted the debris, revealing the Executioner’s head and shoulders. There was a large hole in the front plate of his armor. His chest was a bloody ruin. Remy leaned forward and pulled the cowl from the Executioner’s face. It was the Federal Agent, Fred Duncan. There was a trickle of blood running down from his hairline. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.

“He’s dead,” Avalanche said needlessly. There was an element of shock and horror in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Remy replied. “I’m sure that big bloody hole in his head had nothing to do with the wall falling down on him.”

“I didn’t kill him! Look at him, he’s blown to pieces!” Avalanche said, gesturing to Duncan, then pointing at Remy. “You’re the one who killed him!”

“Let’s tally the score later, shall we boys?” spoke St. John. He picked up the Executioner’s weapon. “I don’t think he’ll be needing this anymore.”

A squawking noise erupted from the Executioner, causing all three to startle. A tinny voice called: “Duncan, are you there? Duncan, do you copy?”

Remy pulled a two-way radio from Duncan’s belt. “Duncan here,” Remy said, doing his best to imitate the grim intonation of the Executioner’s voice.

“Problem in the girl’s wing,” the harried voice at the other end said. “I can’t get in! The doors seem to be jammed. I think one of the mutants is free!” There was a long pause, the two-way radio reported nothing but static. “Harpoon gives report that there’s trouble in the boy’s wing too! Some kind of...of a what?...a blue blur?!...opening the cell doors?!”

Remy and St. John looked at Avalanche, who crossed his arms over his chest. There was a satisfied smile on his face.

Moxie was laying on her stomach in her bunk, looking out into the hallway. Her chin rested on her crossed arms and the tip of her tail flicked.

“Do you suppose Jean got away?” asked her cell mate, Betsy. Moxie glanced at the younger girl, who was rubbing her sore feet.

“I doubt it,” Moxie replied bluntly. She sighed impatiently at Betsy’s expression of dismay. “If she’d waited like I asked...”

“You seem so sure that this Brotherhood is going to rescue us,” Betsy said.

“Maybe not rescue us, per se,” Moxie replied. “But allow us the opportunity to rescue ourselves.”

The earth gave a faint tremble.

“Another earthquake?” Betsy asked, holding fast to the steel bed frame.

“A localized one,” Moxie replied, hopping down from the bunk. She took Betsy by the arm and led her to the back of the cell. “Any moment now,” she said mostly to herself.

Betsy looked from Moxie to the cell door. She could still feel the faint trembling of the earth through the thin soles of her slippers. Just then, the bars of the cell doors were seized by a strange blue light. The bars twisted into strange shapes before the door was flung aside by the unknown force. Girls shouted in fear down the length of the hall. Betsy shrank back from the blue glow, which had now possessed the bunks, causing them to rattle against their bolts. The taps in the sink began blasting forth water and the toilet erupted.

Moxie once again took hold of Betsy. “Time to go,” she said.

“What’s going on?!” Betsy cried as they darted from the cell. Up and down the hall, the other cell doors had been thrown aside with bent and twisted bars. A young woman was proceeding casually down the center of the hall. She was tall, with close-cropped black and red dyed hair. She was dressed in a long red jacket.

“Wanda,” called Moxie.

Wanda had been pausing at each open cell door, examining each occupant. Failing to find what she was looking for, she continued to the next cell.

“Wanda!” Moxie called louder.

The girl paused, then cautiously approached Moxie and Betsy. “Do I know you?” the Scarlet Witch asked.

Moxie smiled grimly. “I know you,” was all she replied, “and the Brotherhood.”

This gave the Scarlet Witch pause. “Do you?” she asked, her voice laden with suspicion. She raised one of her hands, flexing her fingers in a threatening manner. “Then maybe you know where the Toad is...?”

Girls were peering out of their cells, too afraid to leave but too curious to stay put.

“I do,” Moxie replied. “A friend was keeping an eye on him. We’ll get to him eventually.” She lifted Betsy’s right arm, revealing the power inhibitor around her wrist. “But right now, we have to turn these off. Then we’ll really see some fireworks.”

Wanda stared for a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, how do we do that?”

“Follow me,” Moxie replied. She turned to the other girls. “All of you, follow me!”

Nearly a dozen confused girls trailed after the feline mutant. After all, she seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on around here.

Episode 34, The Stuff of Villains: Gambit asks the Brotherhood why they are a such a bunch of losers.

 

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