"Remy," Charles said, fingers peaked and touching his lips as he studied the chessboard. "I have been hearing rumors of a new technology that the government has been using for interrogations."
"Oui?" Remy moved a pawn forward. Charles frowned. His eyes narrowed at the new pattern. Remy had just changed tactics in mid-game.
"I also hear that there is a way to protect oneself from this technology. If you could follow up on that?"
"Of course, Charles." Remy's accent curled around Charles' name turning into a soft French purr which shivered down the older man's spine. A diversionary tactic from the game. Remy rarely bothered to flirt with the professor unless there was something to gain.
Charles moved his queen one space, breaking his own formation and forcing the younger man's attention to focus on the game again. They didn't speak for nearly half an hour; just shared the last of a bottle of red wine. Then, Remy cursed softly. "Sapriest!" He knocked over his king. Charles smirked at him.
"Good game," he offered his hand. Remy shook hands.
"G'night, cher. We play again sometime soon, oui?"
"Yes, of course."
"And this problem of protection? Y' have a price?"
"Whatever is appropriate and won't unfortunately impact the operating budget."
Remy chuckled. "Talk t' Robert about the budget. D'accord."
****
Gambit leaned against the rough brick wall behind the apartment building. He kept a place in the City, but he didn't smoke inside of it. He stared at the burner phone for a long moment before he punched in a number that might not even work anymore. He lit his cigarette with a thought while it rang.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end was cheerful and there was the sound of a stereo in the background along with the click of a keyboard.
"M. Eames?"
"Depends on who this is?"
"Gambit. We met in Madripoor?"
"Ah! And how are you? Did you manage to get through to that young woman that you weren't interested?"
"Her papa disabused her of the idea that Gambit was a good catch. Didn' even leave too many scars." Identities thus established, he got down to business. "Are you an' y'r not-boyfriend available f' some work in New York?"
"We could be persuaded. Let me put you on speaker, mate." Gambit grimaced at the idea, but trusted the other thief enough for that. "Arthur's listening as well. What sort of job proposal?"
"A trainin' job f' a school in New York. The teachers work with some ... high profile targets and are lookin' f' some peace of mind." He paused. "And f' a real challenge, all of them are mutants."
"We're in the city," the familiar voice of Eames' assassin - pardon, his point man - stated. "Can you meet to discuss?"
"Oui. Where?"
Eames chuckled. "Come to the apartment, luv. You know where it is."
"When?"
"When you get here." Arthur hung up on him.
Gambit grinned. He stubbed out his cigarette and wandered back into the building. He didn't stop on his floor, though. He rather went two floors higher. He knocked on 4211.
Arthur opened it. He tucked his gun away as he shut the door behind him. "Efficiency. I approve." He smiled enough to show a dimple and Gambit restrained a twitch. "Coffee?"
"Bien." Gambit took off his trench and hung it on the coatrack as a sign of trust. Eames greeted him European-style with a kiss to each cheek. He settled on the couch as Arthur fussed over a cup of coffee. "Merci, Artur," He said. The man quickly hid a wince. "Arthur, then," he said forcing the American accent.
"No, it's fine," Arthur assured him in French. "It's just been awhile."
"I don't like being cruel."
Arthur shook his head. "No, it's honestly okay. She died a few years ago. I need to get used to hearing it before we head back to Paris." Gambit flicked his eyes to Eames who nodded. "I should be offended."
"Don't torment the poor dear," Eames chided. "He is bringing an interesting challenge. A school of mutants you said?" He changed the language back to English.
"Xavier's Institute for the Gifted."
Arthur raised his brows. "The X-men," he corrected mildly.
"The X-Men," he confirmed with a smile. "Dey suck at cover stories. And won't listen when I tell ‘em that."
"Which members?" Arthur leaned forward with a small black notebook on his lap, pen poised above it.
"Jean Grey, Cyclops, Bete, Wolverine, Iceman, Ange, Psylocke, Rogue, Storm, an' Professor X." Gambit considered. "Likely more once word gets around. There's other teams out there."
Arthur considered, brows drawn. "And a base of operations at the school?"
"More than like. T'ink all the originals be persuaded t' do it an' some of the tangential folks too. Course most of them are paranoid an' might be a little reticent t' let y' in."
Eames chuckled. "Oh, we're very persuasive. And your doctor, would he be willing to synthesize the drug?"
Gambit considered that. "Mebbe? He done it b'fore for t'ings, but he'd like t' have someone t' talk t' at least. Afore he goes makin' somethin' he ain't seen or invented. An' don't drink the coffee from the pot in his lab. He don't use it f' coffee."
"Noted. Do you have the actual budget to hire us for more than five people?"
"Depends on if y' still charge what y' charged when y' taught me."
"For you and the challenge, assume that plus expenses for the equipment."
"Y' willin' t' stay on-site? We got a guest suite that ain't been used in awhile. Promise t' make sure the security system don't cover it f' the duration."
Arthur tipped his head to the side and studied the young man. "Plus blueprints for the school."
Gambit laughed in the man's face. "Non. Y' got y'rs t' protect, I got mine. Y' want somethin' else, we talk. Also, dependin' y' might get commissions f' some other legal side stuff. Worthington Industries. Frost Industries." Gambit considered. "And if'n y' like I got a few other communities dat'll like havin' security on all levels."
Arthur considered. "We'll negotiate a finder's fee for work you send our way."
Gambit's brows rose. "Oui. That sounds reasonable." After a bit more discussion, he agreed to meet them at the Mansion and to introduce them around.
****
Arthur noted the security on the grounds as Eames guided the car down the gravel drive to the front door. Gambit leaned against the front pillar to greet them. He pointed to the garage that was open. He meandered after them. "Y' want t' come in the front door and get the interrogation or come in the back and set your things down b'fore y' meet them?"
"The front door. We're here on official business after all," Arthur decided. The younger man nodded. He put a hand out to take Arthur's suitbag from him. Eames raised his brows when Arthur actually allowed that. The front door was solid wood, but opened on silent hinges. That was interesting. He would have thought Gambit would have enforced a creaking hinge for situation awareness. Waiting against the sweeping staircase was a man about, if not a bit older than Eames' age, with reflective red sunglasses. His spine was stiff as he pushed off and stepped forward.
"Scott Summers," he offered. "The principal."
Arthur greeted him formally. "Mr. Summers, a pleasure. I hope that we will be able to do business."
"I'll take you to the Headmaster's office. He'll do the paperwork. Remy will take your bags to the guest suite."
Remy was already on the way with the bags by the time Summers finished his sentence. Arthur followed the man to the headmaster's office, eyes catching on the practically invisible security system as they passed through the rooms. It made Remy's offer to keep the security off of them make more sense. The headmaster's office was mahogany paneled, with a large bay window, and several chairs scattered around. The two bookshelves were full of leather-bound books and there was a painting just above the fireplace that Arthur wanted. He glanced at Eames and saw that he was wearing his "charm the natives" smile and avaricious eyes. If they hadn't already agreed on a price, it would be doubling right now.
"Professor Xavier." Arthur offered his hand over the desk. The older man shook it with an off-center smile.
"Mr. Arthur and Mr. Eames. Please, sit down. Scott, if you'd fetch some tea for our guests?"
"Of course, professor." Summers gave both of them an unimpressed glance as he left.
"I'm sure your time is limited," Arthur began.
"I believe that the negotiations were already completed? I have my accountant ready to wire half of the balance to your provided account. I would like to get to know you and discuss some of the more delicate issues you may find in this place."
Arthur's spine straightened just a bit. "Medical or psychological?"
"Both."
Eames leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving the professor. Arthur pulled out his favorite notebook and pen. "Let us begin with the medical issues."
"From my understanding of your art, you introduce drugs intravenously?" Xavier asked. At Arthur's nod, he continued. "One of our teachers has skin which cannot be punctured by a needle. Another has a very quickly healing system. He will likely burn through the drugs at at least twice the speed of anyone else."
Arthur considered. "We may be able to create an inhaled version of the drug, but we'll need to bring in an additional body to the development phase."
Xavier nodded. "I'll have Remy set up an additional room." They chatted about issues for a few minutes more before the tea arrived. It was Remy, not Scott who came bearing the silver tea set and proper cups. Xavier's brows rose. "I could have sworn it was Scott who'd be bringing the tea?" he prompted.
"Scotty don't know how to make anythin' more than a teabag." Remy looked down his nose at the professor. "Which y' well know, cher." Remy put a hand on the side of the pot. "Besides, Scott's got other t'ings t' worry about." The thief's smile was vicious for a brief moment as he handed Eames a cup of properly steeped tea with just a dash of milk in the bottom before offering the same to Xavier. "Now, if'n I remember correctly, Artur prefers coffee?"
"I'll drink tea," Arthur said with a soothing smile. Remy handed him a cup of coffee from the smaller silver pot. "Merci."
"Bien. I'll leave this here an' go set up the studio."
****
The studio that Remy had provided to Eames and Arthur for their work was a bright airy space with a window that looked out onto the rose garden. Eames was studying the woman working in the garden appreciatively. Arthur's brows rose as he studied the forger. "A new body?" he asked.
"Quite possibly. She's lovely, but very distinctive. If we happen to run into the right person though." Eames cocked his head to the side. "Although, if I were to use her body with an unusual hair color, that might work as well."
Arthur sorted through another file of medical oddities. "Charles underestimated the number of interesting reactions we'll need to sort through. Though, being able to create an aerosolized version of somnacin will make some of that moot. The telepaths should be an interesting case though. They're used to the flavor of their own minds."
Eames nodded to indicate he was listening, though Arthur could tell his mind was busy cataloging a new person to inhabit. "And the ones with advanced metabolisms?" Eames prompted.
"We have at least two with metabolisms which will make this difficult."
Scott knocked on the doorframe. "Gentlemen," he greeted as they both turned. "Lunch is generally at noon and we have dinner at six. You're welcome to join us or not as you prefer. Do you have any food allergies?"
"Not I," Eames chuckled. "Darling Arthur tends toward vegetarian foods though, when possible."
"That's no issue. Ororo is fully vegetarian and drags her brother along for the ride most of the time, so there's always something on the table. I'll let the kitchen shift know though. Do you have everything you need?"
"We do," Arthur confirmed. "Thank you." He tapped his files. "I'll be conscripting Gambit as our test rabbit," he told the field leader. "He's already been trained and that will help us baseline the new mixes."
That seemed to throw Scott for a moment. "But he's got issues with anesthesia."
Arthur nodded. "And if we were using an opioid base, that would be a concern. Somnacin has a different mechanism of action."
"If he blows up my rose garden, I'll bury all three of you under it," Scott replied without a smile. "If you need a suppression collar, talk to Hank."
Eames frowned a bit. "I don't know how that might interfere with the dreaming. We might have to test that."
"It gives us an opportunity to work with Rogue that won't require the ambush drugs. Though we'll still want to develop the aerosol to test her later and make sure the training takes." Arthur nodded. "We can discuss it further during the initial after-action report from our work with Gambit."
Scott nodded. "Thank you. I'll even take Gambit off the chore roster, if you need me to. Though not for the next two days." He grimaced. "And do not, under any circumstances, accept his hot chocolate. That stuff is deadly."
Arthur blinked. Eames blinked. "How so?" Arthur ventured.
"Spice. A significant amount of spice. I'm pretty sure he was talking about Carolina Reapers in the next batch. He and Ro may have cast-iron mouths, but the rest of us still cry when confronted with painfully hot chiles."
"Oh my."
"Thank you for the warning," Arthur said politely. Scott left them to their work, shutting the door to the hall as he did. "I will need to try that chocolate," Arthur informed his partner.
Eames snorted. "Of course you will, Darling."
****
"Remy, be a dear and turn on the kettle," Eames said, not looking up from the papers he was studying. He was studying enemies and allies of the team both. Remy didn't bother to get up from the chair he'd curled up on. He simply sent a rubber ball bouncing toward the electric kettle. It turned on the water though and that was the important part.
TBC