The file was right where the old man said it would be, and the clipping was toward the back of the file. The minute Gary saw the newspaper article he dropped back into the tall desk chair his father had used for years. His heart was racing and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.
“Oh, no,” he said softly.
The picture on yellowed newspaper was of a giant human wearing armor and a bullet-like helmet, giving him the appearance of having no neck. Richard was nowhere near the size of the guy in the picture, but his body was clearly shaping in that direction.
Under the picture the caption read: juggernaut on RAMPAGE AGAIN.
Remy had spent most of the hot, humid New Orleans summer day sitting in the shade of an umbrella on the edge of a courtyard cafe, sipping iced tea and waiting.
His headband kept the sweat out of his face and his hair up and out of his eyes. His Gambit costume under his duster wasn’t as hot as he’d expected it to be in these conditions, which was a relief, considering that the duster did nothing to keep him cool. And wearing the duster had got him some puzzled looks. He’d just stared right back until the person staring looked away. After all, it was his business if he wanted to sit and cook, wasn’t it?
He sipped on the iced tea and stared at a group entering the cafe. Nothing. He knew who he was waiting for and by now he assumed that person knew he was waiting. In New Orleans, nothing stayed hidden for long.
And he wasn’t hiding by any means, so eventually his target would show.
He just hoped it was before he died of heat exhaustion.
He had obviously spent too many years up north with the Professor and the X-Men. New Orleans was his hometown, the place he loved more than anything, yet he had forgotten just how hot and humid the city could get. He figured his not remembering was like a lover not noticing an imperfection in a partner.
Suddenly behind him, Remy could sense a movement, a slight rustling of the bushes that formed a row along the
inside of the courtyard, as if a slight wind had brushed them. But the day was calm and the air thick and unmov-ing. And he had sat where he could watch all entrances, and no one had moved around behind him from the courtyard.
That meant that only another thief could be there, and a good one at that. And only one, besides himself, was that good, which meant his hoped-for guest had finally arrived.
“Sit, moti ami,” Remy said, not turning around, but indicating the empty chair beside him. He took another drink as beside him a figure pulled out a chair and sat down.
“I see you’re as good as always, LeBeau,” the thin, white-shirted figure said, sitting down and motioning for a waiter to bring him a tea.
Remy tipped his glass in a gesture of thanks at the compliment, then smiled at his friend, Claude deMont. “A very long time.”
And it had been a long time since LeBeau had last seen his childhood friend. The last time had been under very bad circumstances as Remy fought to get Bella, his wife, the elixir of life to save her. He had succeeded in saving her, but in the process had him several enemies. And with Bella not remembering him, the pain of the price he paid haunted him like a hunger that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he ate.
But since Claude had decided to join him, it appeared Claude was not one of those enemies.
The waiter served the iced tea to Claude, refilled
Remy’s glass, and left. For a moment they both sat silently, staring at the courtyard.
Then Claude spoke softly. ‘ ‘If I knew you were here, so does Bella.”
“De risks,” Remy said, and shrugged. “Worth it to see my oF friend.”
Claude shook his head slowly in amusement. Over the years he had done a lot of laughing at the risks Remy had taken. And Claude had shaken his head in amazement at what Remy had managed to accomplish. To Remy, it was always fun to amaze his old friend.
And this time Remy knew why Claude had such a reaction. Bella had become the leader recently of the Assassins Guild, the deadly enemies of thieves like Remy. And it seemed that Remy was at the top of her list.
“Besides,” Remy said, “Bella has herself some bigger problems den me.”
“Toole?” Claude said, letting the surprise come through in his voice. “You know?”
Remy only nodded.
Claude took another drink and then leaned forward slightly over the table. “Toole’s messin’ it all up, LeBeau. It’s like the old ways mean nothin’.”
“And de guilds can’t take him down, hahnT’
“Can’t get to him,” Claude said.
“Well,” Remy said, sipping on his iced tea. “Maybe it de time for someone to talk to de guy.”
Claude nodded. “Past time.”
“So?” Remy said, glancing over at Claude.
Claude sighed, then glanced around the courtyard while pretending to drink. Then he sat his glass down and told Remy what he wanted to hear.
“The old French Imports warehouse complex down on the river,” Claude said as if he was just talking about the weather. “It’s defended better than any military complex I’ve ever seen. None of us have managed to get inside. Two have died trying.”
Remy just nodded, then sipped on his tea.
Claude downed the rest of his tea and stood. ‘ ‘Good luck, LeBeau.”
“Merci beaucoup, mon ami” Remy said.
Claude moved quickly across the courtyard and out onto the street beyond.
After a moment Remy stood and followed, moving slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Underneath, all he wanted to do was get out of the sun, into a cool room, and wait for the night to arri ve.
But he didn’t dare hurry.
At this moment, after sitting out in the open as long as he had, there were just too many risks. Before he could get into that cool room, he had to disappear and make absolutely sure no one was following.
It took him almost an hour.
One very long, very hot, hour.
Scott Summers, having changed into the blue-and-yellow uniform that identified him as Cyclops, co-leader of the X-Men, eased the Blackbird upward until it hovered above its pad behind the Xavier mansion. Then he turned it west and sent it forward, heading for the Juggernaut’s last known position.
The Professor’s stepbrother had been one of their greatest problems over the years, and today might be another of those fights that none of them seemed to win against Juggernaut. Scott sincerely hoped not.
“I’ll agree with you there,” Jean said from the copilot seat beside him, smiling.
The beautiful Phoenix had read his thoughts.
Scott smiled back at his wife as he eased the speed of the X-Men’s plane upward. He and Jean were so connected, in so many ways, that their thoughts were linked by Jean’s power almost automatically. He liked it that way, and he knew she did, too. There were many times over the years that the link between them had saved their lives.
She reached across and rested her hand on his arm, letting the physical touch add to the mental. With Jean at his side, he felt whole.
Again Scott smiled at her, then returned his thoughts to the mission ahead.
Behind them, in the right seat, was Dr. Henry McCoy—Hank to his friends, the Beast to the general public. The blue-furred Hank had been spending days, and nights lately, wrapped up in his lab, working frantically to find a cure for the deadly Legacy Virus, a virus that had been introduced into the world by the madman Stryfe. It primarily attacked mutants, but had recently spread into the human population. Hank had redoubled his efforts of late, following the death of a young boy named Walter Now-land, who had died at the Xavier Institute’s sister school,
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters in Massachusetts.
But so far, even the brilliance of the smartest X-Man couldn’t crack the cure. And the frustration was driving the doctor to slamming his fist against things, not a typical gesture for him.
So when this opportunity to check up on the Juggernaut came along, Scott figured it w
ould be a good time to get Hank some air. Let the good doctor’s nerves recharge a little. And against the Juggernaut, it never hurt to have Hank along.
Hank hadn’t exactly been pleased with the interruption, but he hadn’t really objected that hard, either. It seemed he knew that Scott was right.
Behind Scott sat Rogue, the fourth X-Man on the flight. She wore her brown flight jacket over her green-and-yellow X-Men uniform. She’d brushed her hair back and upward, making the white streak in her auburn hair even more prominent. As the plane climbed and leveled off she just stared out the side window, her attention clearly miles away.
And Scott knew why. Since Gambit had left for New Orleans, she’d been feeling lost. When Jean mentioned the flight to check up on the Juggernaut, she’d volunteered to go along. Anything to keep her mind a little busy and off of her feelings for the Cajun.
But at the moment it didn’t look as if it was working.
“Well,” Scott said, “this shouldn’t take long. Last report had Juggernaut crossing the border into New York about halfway up the state line.”
‘ ‘Any idea what set the big guy off this time?” Rogue asked, still staring out at the passing green valleys.
“Nothing,” Jean said.
“Based on our experiences with Mr. Marko,” Hank said, ‘ ‘it would take little, if any, outside stimulus to precipitate an event of this nature.”
“Well,” Scott said, turning the Blackbird slightly downward toward the farms and rolling hills of central New York, “he isn’t exactly covering his tracks.” Scott pointed ahead.
“Oh my stars and garters,” Hank said, leaning forward slightly to see past Jean’s shoulder.
Scott agreed.
A white, two-story farm house had been knocked down completely and there was a Juggernaut-sized hole in the side of a nearby red bam. A small stand of trees had a path knocked down through them beyond the bam. Scott just hoped the family in the house was all right.
“Me, too,” Jean said, reading his thoughts. “I’ll see if I can find out.”
As Scott turned the Blackbird slightly to follow the line of destruction, Jean stared out the window at the farmhouse, taking in the thoughts of those below. After a moment she sighed and said, “They’re all alive,” she said. “And very angry.”
“They got a right to be angry,” Rogue said, staring back at the destruction the Juggernaut had caused. “He’s destroyed their home.”
“There he is,” Scott said.
Ahead of them the Juggernaut pounded one foot in front of another across an open field, taking giant, distance-eating strides. It was amazing to Scott how fast he could travel on the ground. The Juggernaut never tired
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and never stopped for anything, basically moving as the crow flies, only on the ground.
The problem was that he went over or through anything in his way.
‘ ‘I would recommend not landing the Blackbird in his path,” Hank said. ‘‘It might not be a propitious location for the health of our transportation.”
'‘Agreed,” Scott said, swinging the Blackbird in a high arc over Juggernaut and landing the plane softly a good half a mile ahead and off to one side of the behemoth’s path.
“We’re not to engage him right away,” Scott said. “We’ll try to talk to him first. Jean, you and I will pace him to his right. Rogue, you take Hank and stay with him on his left.”
“Understood,” Hank said.
Rogue nodded.
“Let’s go, X-Men,” Scott said.
Without another word they climbed out of the Blackbird and took up positions facing the unstoppable Juggernaut heading their way.
It had taken Robert Service Jr. most of the morning to get some clothes his new size ordered, then delivered to the estate. His proportions had completely changed—not just six inches of height but considerably more bulk. It had cost a great deal to have it done, but he didn’t have much choice at the moment. He needed the clothes. And he had the money.
About twenty minutes after Gary had left, Robert suddenly felt as if he didn’t have much time. The big, red creature was getting closer and the pain was growing slightly. He needed to get out of there, head west, find the second part of the emerald. It was like an aching need and he really had no desire to deny the drive.
Nor any reason to.
He strode across the grounds of his family estate and into the hangar beside the private runway, enjoying the speed his new stride and power gave him. He bet there were many things about being this powerful he was going to enjoy.
“Is the plane ready?” he said as he entered the large hanger. His voice boomed over the metal and concrete like a thunderclap.
The two pilots of the private jet jumped to their feet from positions in a small lounge. They both just stared at him, fear slowly filling their eyes.
“Sorry, gentlemen,” he said, lowering his voice to what seemed to be a whisper to his ears. “Still not used to the new lungs.”
The pilot, a thin, graying man by the name of Harold Trimble, had been working for the Service family for almost ten years. He was the first to finally get his voice after swallowing twice. “What happened to you?”
“Just a little growth hormone,” Robert said, and laughed. Again his voice boomed around the hanger and the two men’s eyes widened. The young copilot actually took a step back and looked like he wanted to run.
“Sorry,” Robert said, whispering. “I’ll get the hang of this new voice sooner or later.”
Both men just nodded, but Robert could tell they didn’t look any less afraid of him. And that was just fine, as far as he was concerned. It never hurt to have employees afraid of their boss. Robert figured it added an extra level of work and care to an employee’s performance. “Is the plane ready?”
Harold nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Robert whispered. “Let’s get in the air. And just head west, say for San Francisco. I’ll tell you along the way if we need to change directions.”
Harold and the young copilot both nodded.
Robert turned and climbed into the jet, barely fitting in the seat. He finally managed to find a comfortable position on the large leather couch. After all this was settled and his father was dead, he’d have to get a larger plane. This one just wouldn’t do for a man of his size.
And power.
With the last thought he once again laughed softly to himself.
Cain Marko’s chest still hurt, but the closer he got to upper New York State, the better it felt. It was as if the pain was dragging him there like he was nothing more than a stupid homing pigeon. As a kid he had hated to be bossed around. Now that he was the Juggernaut, he was powerful enough that no one could do that to him anymore. But now the pain in his chest was like a nagging boss, forcing him onward. And the farther he went, the angrier he got.
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X-NCK
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Whatever was causing this pain was going to be real sorry, real soon. He hadn’t been this mad in years.
The roar of the X-Men’s plane over his head distracted him. That’s all / need now, he thought, my stepbrother’s students buzzing around me like flies, doing their do-gooder deeds. Most likely they were going to try to stop him.
That just wasn’t going to happen.
The X-Men’s plane landed off to one side of his path up ahead.
Four X-Men climbed out and Cain recognized them as Cyclops, Phoenix, Rogue, and the Beast. The latter two moved to a safe distance to the right of his path and stood waiting.
On the other side of his path Summers and Grey floated side by side.
Fine. Let them just float there. He wasn’t stopping for them now or any time in the future. He’d just walk right between them and take their best shots and keep going. At the moment they weren’t even worth his time.
But as he went between them they surprised him. They simply floated along beside him, pacing his speed across the empty field.
>
“What’s the matter?” he asked, turning to look at the pair without stopping. “Nothing better to do on a hot summer day than bother a man on his own business?”
“Actually, Cain,” Summers said, “just wondering why you’re tearing up all this real estate.”
“Taking a train would clearly be less taxing,” McCoy said from the other side of Cain. ‘ And far less damaging to the local flora.”
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Cain glared at the blue ball of fur and simply got a shrug and a smile in return.
“Look,” Cain said, turning his head to look at Summers without missing a step on his journey, “just leave me alone. I got something I need to do and you and that creepy stepbrother of mine can’t help me or stop me. All right?” '
“Fine by us,” Summers said. “But just tell us why the hurry and all the destruction?”
Cain snorted. “You really want to know, one-eye? It’s because something up ahead of me there is causing me pain. And I don’t much like pain.”
“Two aspirins seem to work on most pains,” McCoy
said.
Cain took a swipe at him without breaking stride, but missed.
Suddenly the pain in his chest grew worse, in a way he’d come to know meant he was going in the wrong direction.
“What?” he said aloud. He stopped and turned slightly to the north.
No change. The pain remained.
‘ ‘Cain?” Summers said, floating off to one side with Grey. “What happened?”
“Would you stop your yapping for a minute,” Cain said. “Give me a chance to figure this out.”
Thankfully they did as he asked.
He turned slightly south. Again no change in the pain radiating in his chest.
He turned farther south. Nothing.
Then even farther, so that he was facing slightly west.
And the pain seemed lighter.
He turned all the way around to the west and the pain lightened. Either he had passed what was causing him pain, or it had changed position, going west of where he now stood.
He growled real low in his throat, then started back in the direction he’d just came. The thing causing him this pain was going to pay, and pay good. And it couldn’t run forever. At some point he’d catch up to it.
The Jewels of Cyttorak Page 5