Rufus, that was your sister?

October 10, 2015:

Remy announces his re-emergence in New York unsurprisingly.

Mutant Town

Roscoe's. You know, /Roscoe's/. In Mutant Town.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Some fall festival in Mutant Town is just wrapping up and the streets are alive with the energy of people having a good time. So much bad has happened in this community over the past couple of years, it may seem odd to be in the festive spirit. Nevertheless, mutants and humans alike (albeit more open minded ones) are mingling among booths set out on the street. Peddlers of all sorts of wares sell everything from face paintings to jewelry.

This evening, Scott Summers and Jean Grey received an ominous text message that appears to be from Remy LeBeau. Granted, the area code came from Georgia, but the misspelled words and phrasing seemed to point to the Cajun who had until recently been out of the X-sphere down in his hometown of New Orleans. That was until Jean asked him to come back.

Obliged he did, or would, he said, but he had to tie up some loose ends. That was a month ago, and even though Gambit was usually late when he showed up at all, this could seem as worrisome. The message from the Georgian phone asked both to meet him at Roscoe's, a biker bar down in Mutant Town. 'verry importint'.

The joy of the night is abruptly interrupted as shards of glass from inside Roscoe's explode out onto the sidewalk as a dirty man in a dark coat lands out upon the sidewalk, first on his back and then rolls onto his face just as the others begin to arrive. It's not clear what's going on inside the bar, but there seems to be commotion.

"Good thing I wore the black one." Scott shrugs the leather duster over his shoulder before climbing onto his motorcycle and gesturing for Jean to hop on back. The engine revs, and breaks out into the slow moving traffic, bucking and weaving around cars illegally until they're able to break down an alley and make quicker passage to Roscoe's.

The bike pulls up short when the man is 'ejected'. Sitting it down on his right leg, Scott peers back at Jean. "Is that Remy?" he asks drily, before kicking the stand and killing the engine.

He's betting it's Remy.

Lunair is in M-Town. But she promised to help out, and look after people. She brings groceries to some of her friends, circuit boards and ores for Metalbuddy and so on. It's one of her more peaceful jbos. She is walking with a bag of groceries, and an address slip. When suddenly, a DUDE OUT OF NOWHERE. "Oh my god, it's raining men." Take shelter! BEFORE YOU GET CRUSHED!

And Scott turns up, blinking owlishly. "Hi!"

"You look good in black." Jean held neutral colors. Nothing too flashy, a nice tan tank over her feminine leather duster with a pair of jeans and thigh high boots to match. Climbing upon the back of the seat was easy, with the added height the heels projects it was just a swing of a leg and a plant of demin clad ass right upon the seat and a grip of the waist by an arm and a tight lean against his back.

The ride? Unconventional for the hair, thankfully tucked into a ponytail and let down as soon as they stop, fingers squeezing and bunching the red locks as she watches the man fly through the window with obvious tenseness within her features. "Shit."

It probably was Remy. That.. bastard. "He didn't tell us we were coming here for a bar fight." Bet twenty it had something to do with a card up his sleeve.

Not exactly Rhodey's circle, Mutant Town, but he found his way here none the less. Everyone once and a again a man just needs a break from their norm and there's something refreshing about being the odd man out. James stops at a booth for to get a piece of food when someone flies out of a window across the street… "Huh." His eyes are on the individual as he pays for the dog, lazily walking across the street while taking a bit.

And Lunair seems to have revered to Gothic Lolita. Everyday is halloween for her. She does seem to think it totally wasn't Remy though.

As out of place as a panda bear in a tutu, Betsy's not far behind Scott and Jean, driving her heavily modified Aston Martin. The car growls and hums until she gets within a half-block of the bar, when the exhaust abruptly cuts out and she coasts into a parking spot. She sits on the back of her driver's seat and swings her legs out, eschewing the convertible top, and kips out to land neatly on the asphalt.

Dressed like the last breath of summer, all in shades of orchid and lavender, her demeanour and her clothing both mark her as an outsider to the ebuillient, but disenfranchised, members of M-town. She watches the fellow come crashing through the glass and skitter to a stop a few inches in front of her designer shoes, then turns her head and looks at Jean and Scott.

"It's probably Remy," she confirms. "You don't have to be psychic to smell cheap bourbon and clove cigarettes."

"Allu!" she calls into the bar. "Acadian! Vous amusez la-dedans?" she calls in, with her clipped if serviceable Parisian French.

With a wince in his eyes and a moving cigarette in his mouth, Remy turns to look at the others, even as glass is still falling out of his hair. At Betsy's mocking, his face grows into a wide smile.

"Oh cherie, errybody know de best bourbon is free bourbon."

He gives an upwards nod to Scott and Jean as he gets to his feet languidly. "Glad you came, mes amis; was beginnin' ta tink you dint get ole Remy's message."

The Cajun then opens his mouth to say something before a big burly and bald man with tattoos up to his ears erupts from the doorway of Roscoe's. "LeBeau! Get back here so I can kill your ass!"

His six friends shuffle out after him in Biker Style with lots of leather and tatoos and probably with speed in their bike satchels or whatever.

Less graceful than Jean and Betsy, Scott plants a boot on the ground and climbs off behind the redhead, his jaw working into a displeased knot. "You're not surprised," he asks Jean, filling his tone with mock appeal. "Are you?"

Stopping by the ejected man, Scott is about to offer Remy some help, when the man gets up on his own. "Traffuck," he explains, the word itself enough to speak volumes. "You know -"

Similarly interrupted, Scott turns away to look at the entourage. A deep breath causes him to puff out his chest, which is a promised accident, before a long sigh emerges. "Should I ask what you did now, or later?" Regardless, he cracks his neck to the left, before casting a look toward Jean and Betsy. Lunair he's yet to notice, and he's not met Rhodey yet. For the moment, he's gonna let the girls try to talk these chumps down. Hopefully before Gambit opens his mouth again.

Lunair is super sneaky. "Hi Remy!" She beams and waves to the Cajun. She still has no idea what Cajuns do but that's how it goes. Then there's Betsy and a James Rhodes. Rhodes gets a curious look and a wave from the odd looking gal. "Hi there! I think a fight may start. If it does, I may get out the dubstep gun." Or the twerker. Because nothing inspires terror like the Twerker.

"… why are they beating up Remy, or trying?" She asks, confused. She doesn't seem to think ill of the oddly accented mutant. "He likes cards, they like cards…"

"Oh, neat, a fight." Rhodey says dryly, come all the way to Mutant Town to get a break from fighting, so that's ironic. Then, this isn't his fight is it? Because it sure does look like the dirty guy with the coat probably asked for it, even if the other's jump to his defense. "Dubstep gun.." Rhodes finishes his hotdog and tosses the crumpled paper container in the trash after wiping the corners of his mouth.

"Hey." To Lunair with a nod, "I'm sure everyone is really glad you didn't jump right to the nudity ray." With a snort, arms crossed, watching the fight until it becomes his fight.

Jean scrunches her face just a little, trying her best to hide the smile from Scott and Betsy. "No. Not surprised, no." There was a light lift of the shoulders as she draws herself away from the bike, her hands soon tucked within her pockets as she strolls towards Betsy and Lunair with a casual sway, even as the six men exit the bar in preparation for a fight. Scott's look means one of two things. Either he needs them to get them to back off or..

"Oh.. all right.. I'll take the three guys on the left, Betsy.. you.." And then there was a thought, a thought that has her face dropping and her hand reaching out to grasp Betsy by the elbow with a gesture towards Lunair to come hither.

"Second thought. All yours boys."

Betsy upticks an eyebrow at Scott when he looks at her. She glances at Jean, an unspoken conversation between them, and then rather pointedly leans against a lamppost, crossing one boot over the other at the ankle. Hands slip into her windbreaker and she flashes a brilliant and encouraging smile at Scott and Remy, leaning her head sideways to rest on the shorter redhead's when she sidles up next to her.

"Come on, boys," she says encouragingly. "If you can't take the wind out of the sails of some greasy biker bar trash, we'll be terribly disappointed. /Crushed/," she assures the two X-men. She glances at Rhodey, eyes flickering as she picks up his surface thoughts. "I think he'd even be willing to pitch in," she says, gesturing vaguely at the human component of War Machine.

She looks at Lunair and smiles. "Darling, I love the look. Very gothic loli," she tells the walking weapons factory. "You know that's all the rage in Japan right now, right?"

"Prolly not now, no, Slim," Remy says looking hurt. "If I tole you it wasn't my fault, I dun know if you'd believe me." The Cajun gives a wink to Lunair as he turns to face his tormentors, holding up his semi-gloved hands in a sign of mercy.

"Rufus, you known me a long time and you know I din have nuthin' to do with that business with your sister. That was all Michel Montague. You got the wrong man. Remy just here to meet up with some ole friends is all. Half expected you to be out somewhere near Sturgis still."

The big, bald, headed man grabs Remy by the lapels and hoists him into the air as if he was nothing, and anyone with keen senses will realize that these aren't just normal bikers. A mutant biker gang hasn't really made big news yet, but apparently Remy Etienne LeBeau is already their enemy. The Cajun is deposited right back through the window from where he came, disappearing from view. Quick as a bolt, Rufus is back through the front door as well, eager to finish his beating. "Take care of the rest of them, boys."

With a wicked smile, the eyes of one of them flash reddish yellow and flames erupt from his hands. Scott and get an inferno blast headed straight for them, while another aims his hands out in front of Betsy. A moment later the space between Braddock and the biker mutant fizzes with static energy as lightning heads out for her.

Rhodey and Lunair are unattacked to this point, but it's not clear how long that will last.

"Well, it doesn't have to be a -" Scott is about to say. Then, there's Lunair, and Elizabeth and Jean are backing down. Beneath the ruby colored glasses, the man narrows his eyes a little, and he waits to see just how good Remy will be at talking his way out of his own mess.

His chin lifts when Baldie makes short work of Remy, looking ok with an open mouth when he's tossed back inside like a rag doll. As it becomes quickly apparent that these are powered types, there's not much time for action! "Shit!"

Scott dives to the street and rolls away, flames licking the edge of his boots and scarring the cement. Mid-roll, a hand gets shoved into his duster, and out comes a high tech, optic visor.

When he completes the roll, his glasses have been tossed elsewhere, and the optic visor is secure upon his head. A burst of red, concussive energy lashes out toward his attacker's legs!

Lunair beams at Betsy. "Yes, thank you! Orchid is amazing on you!" She offers. She does seem to like the other mutants about. And then suddenly things are escalating. "Oh geez." Lunair looks concerned. A lot. It's about as much facial expression as she can manage. There's a faint sigh.

Soon, alarmingly high tech power armor covers her and there's a dubstep gun. She knows that people here generally frown on her pulling arail gun and going to town. So now she's going to try to zot the mutant biker gang with the dubstep gun. Turn the fight into a dance party. One car gets hit with the dubstep gun and is bouncing like it has bass like whoa.

"Hi!" She offers to Rhodey. "Most people seem to be except when it's people with abs and stuff."

Yup. Jean totally backed down, on the outside. She couldn't let her people get too hurt, not really. Some people still had classes to teach and she had things to do. So she watches, arms folded about her chest as Remy's thrown back into the bar, Scott dive rolling aside from the blazing blow of fire as Jean's own hand reaches up.. the air around her wavering to form a shield that protects her and Betsy from the blast of electricity that was fired in their direction.

"That was really uncalled for." Jean states, her own frown dampening as that hand turns outward, fingers curling and pressing together to ..


She didn't break necks, not -this- Jean, but she did trigger a sleeper effect towards the electricity-thrower that would hopefully have him upon the ground in a seconds notice. "I'll be right back guys." Jean states, taking those few strides forward with a lift into the air, allowing herself to float through the broken window and into the bar inside.

Rhodes cants his head at the ladies all stepping over to let the boys have a play date with the bikers, he even motions at them with a wiggling pointy finger, "That's classy." Then there's all sorts of mutant abilities being flung around like pie in a food fight, "Less… that's less classy."

What's a guy to do? Sans suit he's just a well trained soldier with years of combat exp- oh right… "Don't do it, James.. This isn't your fight, oh who am I kidding." See there? That one with all the electricity about to fry the Betsy lady? Rhodes steps right over to ''that'' one and throws all his weight into a punch aimmed directly in the side of the face.

"If I start getting my ass kicked, I'm really g-" See how they're throwing fire and shit? We call this escalation, "Belay that order, send the fucking suit, ASAP."

"You sure? My sensors say there are women present, are you absolutely certain you don't want to impres-" The onboard AI says from the housing dock a little ways away.

James, cuts him off with a snide reply, "I swear to god I'll delete your programming…"

"On my way, Colonel."

Betsy's instincts snap her attention back to the fight at that sense of an impending use of mutant talents against her. The attack from the biker catches her off guard, somehow bypassing Jeans shield and sending Betsy crumpling to the ground with a cry of pain.

Except she doesn't- the ninja's deception vanishing instantly and Betsy bursts from literal shadows, uncoiling her foot in a high kick to her aggressor's face with enough force to potentially bounce his face off the concrete. She doesn't stand around admiring her handiwork, either, lunging through the bikers like a pale flower on a breeze with a coruscating blade of psionic energy in one hand. It looks like something from a videogame, stillness in motion, that psionic blade paralyzing any limbs through which it passes.

The flamethrower is taken out at the legs by Cyclop's optic blast. He hits the deck with some force and is down for the count, the fire all around him dissipates like turning off a gas fireplace.

Jean and Rhodey tag team Betsy's attacker, while a concealed Braddock also emerges from the shadows to take on the electricity user. The long and short of it is that he's done; simply unable to take on three high powered individuals such as these.

Betsy continues on and incapacitates two more and by the time all is said and done, there is a lone mutant biker remaining after the impressive and quick show of force.

That remaining one, however, fires high speed sand from the tips of his fingers, creating a sandstorm all about them and surely getting in someone's eyes if not in worse places.

Meanwhile, Jean enters the bar by levitation, but when she gets inside, she'll find that all of the patrons left through the wide open backdoor, once things began to hit the fan.

Rufus, meanwhile, is rolling on the floor, holding his groin, while Remy is seated upon the floor against the bar and drinking from an abandoned bottle.

"He still got de same weakness, cherie."


Remy smiles and offers the bottle to Jean.

"Cerebro, scan these goons." Rhodey isn't the only guy with a link to complicated AI! Thanks to the Cerebro link in his visor, the biker gang is immediately tagged, and some miles upstate, Cerebro springs to life, taking a reading of their mutant powers.

The delay in action is all it takes for Harley Sanderson to do his thing. A sound of protest emerges, and for a moment, Scott flails around on the ground, blinded. Not about to fire blind, he tucks into himself and shields his face, grumbling.

"Bets!" he calls out, knowing her talents don't exactly need line of sight.

And the poor knocked out guy gets up in time to start liquid dancing. His dignity is in shambles. He is in pain. And worst of all, he does not have powerful dance moves. Lunair pauses. "Geez, and everyone gets mad when I railgun things." The armored girl seems amused by this turn of events. She has a sense of humor about it at least.

Sandguy, ironically, is getting hit with Darude's Sandstorm. DANCE LIKE YOU'RE VIBRATING!

"Wow, that is so cool." Lunair thinks Rhodes is awesome! He just ambled up and does his thing. "Are you okay?" She asks Scott, seeing if maybe he needs glasses?

The War Machine armor flies through the New York sky on a beacon attached to James' wrists. "Thirty seconds out, Colonel."

What with all the things just happened in a few seconds, Rhodes isn't exactly in a position to do much more than watch the dude get head punch/kicked during nap time, "God damn that sucks… bruh… my b.." He's actually being serious. Had he but known there was a ninja about to whip kick him in the cranium while he was Buster Douglas'ing that ass.. He shakes his head and grimaces, "Initiate protocol, Force Multiplier."

The War Machine defense platform lands in the midst of a sand storm… but even with its advanced scanning software it is unable to pick out individual distinction during the midst of the high density sand particles. That poor bastard what just took a foot, fist, brain combo is just gaining senses when a tons worth of magnetically sealed titanium lands upon his shoulders from a four foot dead drop out of hover mode.

"No do- oh jesus…" Rhodes rushes over towards his armor to use as cover incase someone else has a flame thrower, "I think you just killed that dude…"

"Biometrics scans indicate that he is having a very bad day, yes."

"Do me a favor and load rubber and electro-shock bullets?"

"Understood Colonel." The wrist mounted gatling gun points down at the heap of man beneath it's boot and begins firing a steady stream of rubber bullets right into his back.

"… Yeah, you're getting reboot."

Well, there goes that! For a moment Jean was relieved, no innocents were around to get caught in the cross-fire and per usual, Gambit was right as rain. She lands softly upon the ground, striding towards the downed fellow and the sitting Remy, her head shaking slightly as she reaches out to grasp the neck of the bottle to bring it to her nose for a quick sniff. "Woooh.." It was strong.

"No thanks." She wasn't really a heavy drinker, wine was her fortay. "I'd like to ask what did you do but I heard something about a sister and.." She just shakes her head. "I really don't want to know."

The commotion outside was getting a little bit loud for her comfort, a frown placed upon her lips as she nearly make moves to go and check.. but she doesn't. She was sure they all could handle themselves.. even though she heard a large racket of a landing. "I.." Dammit, it was no time for a conversation, but then again.. "I know you didn't call us here for this.." It truly had to be important. "And took you long enough, by the by."

"Bugger," Betsy curses. Instead of cowering, she screws her eyes shut and charges forward. A lifetime of training in blindfighting helps immensely, of course, but it's almost cheating when said ninja can locate someone in perfect darkness with her thoughts alone.

She pitches forward in a roll, avoiding the worst blast of sand, and comes up on his left side. Her stunning blows come fast and sharp- and even in time with the bass that Lunair drops, as well as the man's convulsions. She even steps into him, hipchecks him off balance, then pulls him back into the embrace of her arms and legs. Falling she pull him to the ground and applying a vicious chokehold, pinning his hands behind her knees and throttling the consciousness from him, cold features hard-set. She doesnt let him go until he's completely unconscuous, then grimaces and shoves him away. "Anyone hurt?"

"Me," Remy calls out to Betsy as things have quieted down now. His eyebrows come together as he considers Jean's words. "Had a lot of loose ends to tie, ma petite chou. Can't just go leavin' without takin' care of my affairs, non?"

"Additionally, Remy don't know Rufus' sister from a crawdad neither. Least not carnally."

Outside, the Sandstorm guy is dancing, then hit with rubber bullets, then promptly choked out. This was apparently a very bad idea on behalf of the bikers.

Brushing the sand out of his no-longer-perfect hair, Scott crawls to his feet and looks at the mess. "I'm good," he answers Betsy. "And, I've got these guys tagged in case they cause trouble again." He walks among them for a moment, frowning. "Which probably won't be for a while."

Now, he casts a look away, considering the crowd that has formed. There's no way around it; this was a display of metahuman powers, sans costume. For his part, Scott's power is fairly unique. A brief look is sent toward James, then cast toward the machine that he's communicating with.

"Thanks for the help, pal," he says, providing the guy with a short nod. "'Fraid some of us are gonna need to make a fast exit." Meaningful looks are given toward Betsy, then to Lunair, before Scott makes his way back into the bar.

"Alright, we need to bail. First responders are on their way. Jean?" He'a got a motorcycle outside, and the means to zap them into a ley line and out of dodge, but he's not powerful enough to teleport the others.

Fortunately, Lunair is power armored and thus sandproofed. She drops her armor. "Well. I guess I should go, too. But I can act as a witness if you need," She offers to Rhodes. She nods at Scott. She tries not to wince at what happened with the War Machine. "That is really neat armor, though. Can you fly with it?" Curiousity in full effect.

"I understand. A bit more than you know." She grins, then reaches down to offer a hand to help him to his feet if he takes it, as well as giving him a look over to make sure that there aren't any obvious bumps and bruises that would hinder his escape. "I wasn't asking about.. car.. oh nevermind." Red tints her cheeks as she takes a step back, tugging her jacket down in time to turn towards Scott with a slight nod. "I'm coming."

"Come back to the house so we can get you looked at, yeah?" She asks, already strolling towards Scott side with a quick stepping motion. "And your bike is alright, nothing damaged it." She says to their Cajun brother, a brief wink given as she reaches out to dust sand from Scott's hair as well as push him out the door. The sirens.. they were already on the horizon and the getting needed to be got good.

"Yes, this gentlemen is going to require advanced medical attention." PATTON says through through the loud speakers on the outside of the War Machine helmet. His foot removes from between the gentleman's shoulder blades, swivel cannon turning to provide a 360 defense screen incase any of the unfortunate remaining goons attempt to resurge with vitality.

Rhodey, for his part, rushes over to the crushed individual to check for a pulse. "He's alive."

Keeping in mind that there are varying degrees of alive that are still quite acceptable in modern medical practice. He is very unlikely to be continuing his dream job in a mutant biker gang, for instance. He might not need a colostomy bag, though… So there's that for him to look forward to.

Rhodes nods up to Scott, "My pleasure." glancing around along with Scott at the crowd gathered to watch the little show they've all put on. The War Machine turns to regard the crowd as well, but is already bringing down its weapon systems with no obvious threats detected. "Y'all get out of here." He says with a chin jutting towards the group, "I'll stick around, but I can't promise my account will be that accurate… what with the sand storm." Grinning a little, nodding to Lunair, "Yeah, I can."

"Done. Remy, Lunair- with me. Sir," Betsy tells Rhodey. "It looks like you've your own transportation?" She turns to look at the crowd, eyes flat and level, and starts systematically shorting out cell phones being aimed her way. <Jean, I'm on phones. Start on memories,> she communes to the other psychic. Between the two women, they scrub any trace of their presence from the immediate area with practiced ease.

She moves promptly to her car and jumps in, revving the engine quickly. Once her passengers are on board, Betsy backs the Aston out fast enough to leave rubber behind, then with a flat surge of acceleration, throws well over seven hundred horsepower behind that sports car and it launches into the city, far faster than any police car could keep up with.

"Juss a black eye, Jeannie. Had em before an' will have em again," Remy says as he gets to his feet. As Jean and the Cajun leave the bar and walk out to see the others, the true reason that Remy had texted Scott and Jean in the first place comes out.

"Too bad, Slim, ole Remy had a choice hustle set up on the pool tables. Guess Rufus dun wanna give us de chance."

Scott Summers was the only pool shark Remy LeBeau knows. At least in this area,

As Remy sits in Betsy's car, he looks around, "Anyone seen da Belle around?"

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