Chapter Text
“Jitter, we’re going to be in so much trouble,” Becca Simon-Pinette moaned as the two of them wandered around a packed Jackson Square, the beating heart of the French Quarter’s tourist siren song. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“I tttold you, Becca, it’ll be fffine,” her girlfriend, Sofia Yong, replied, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “We’ll bbe back bbefore anyone knows we’re gggone. And wwwhen we’re out, it’s Sofia, OK?”
“OK.” Becca smiled and allowed Sofia to pull her excitedly along the street. There were people everywhere. The night was warm and the air was heavy with the mingled scents of liquor, sweat and jasmine, and the sounds of live music drifted out onto the sidewalks from the numerous jazz and piano bars. They were far too young to go inside the most interesting-looking places, but they were free to people-watch and take in the atmosphere around the square.
They had been to the city before, but almost always with adults. Or at least, not just the two of them. Their excitement and anticipation was as much about their intoxicating sense of freedom — no grownups — as it was about New Orleans itself.
“Those are so pretty,” Becca said, pointing to an array of canvasses, all showing brightly colored scenes of the city, propped up along the square’s gate. The artist, an older Black man, turned toward them from the easel he had propped up, where he was working on another piece.
“Merci, lil one,” he said, smiling and tipping his newsboy cap to them. Becca blushed and continued to follow Sofia.
“Where are we going?”
“Cccafe du Monde,” Sofia replied. “It’s just over on Decatur Ssstreet. Mr. Gggambit’s talked about it. I wanna try the bbeignets.”
A while later, after patiently waiting in a sizable line, the girls were sitting on the cafe’s terrace under its telltale green and white striped awning. They each ordered a mug of café au lait and shared an order of three beignets, splitting the third between them.
“Sssso ggood,” Sofia moaned, chewing on a hunk of pillowy, sugary goodness.
“The guys don’t know what they’re missing,” Becca said, sipping her coffee. It had chicory in it, which she’d never had before coming here, but she thought she liked it.
The outing had been Sofia’s idea. It had been only a week since the city’s friendship festival for mutant outreach, which was an overall success. Although someone — no one yet knew who — had deliberately set fire to a children’s hospital a few blocks from the festival. Sofia and Becca hadn’t seen all of what happened, but the Louisiana X-Men, with some help from friends and frenemies alike, had managed to save everyone inside.
Becca had already been suffering nightmares and sleepwalking episodes before this, the result of residual fear after watching that godforsaken Murder Me, Mutina slasher movie. Sofia had noticed the effect the film had had on her girlfriend and regretted dragging her along to see it, but the damage was done. Going to the festival — in civilian clothes, mind — had seemed to help ease Becca’s anxiety. But all it took was seeing Ms. LeBeau — Rogue — bloodied and dusty after taking the brunt of the damage in the hospital fire, and Becca’s anxiety had rocketed up again.
The X-Men — Rogue, Gambit, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Jubilee — had walked back to the festival after dealing with the fire to collect the kids and make sure no one had tried to start any shenanigans there while they were distracted. Sofia and Becca had both gasped when they saw Rogue, her arm draped around Mr. Gambit, both of them coughing and dragging. Becca had immediately launched herself at Rogue, sobbing and throwing her arms around her with such force that Mr. Gambit had had to duck out of the way, until Sofia had similarly thrown her arms around him in relief.
“We were so worried,” Becca cried into Rogue’s hair, which was covered in ash and dust and smelled like smoke.
“Ah’m OK, baby,” Rogue had soothed Becca, stroking her hair and hugging her close. And she was, for as banged up as she looked. But that hadn’t done much to allay Becca’s nightmares. Only now she had both Mutina and the hospital fire to feed her night terrors.
Sofia knew Becca sleepwalked, but had never been up to actually see it. That usually fell to Mr. Gambit, who’d roll out of bed when he heard her and follow her downstairs to make sure she didn’t cut herself, wander off or set the house on fire. Eventually he’d herd her back upstairs and back to bed, keeping an ear out in case she got up again.
All of that worry meant that Sofia was on the lookout for a way to make Becca relax and have some fun. And what better way to do that than to roam around New Orleans for an evening?
This Saturday had provided the best opportunity. The St. Juniors family — Marcus, Alice and Chelsea — had gone to Baton Rouge for the weekend. Sofia learned during her one-on-one training session earlier that afternoon that Herr Nightcrawler, Kurt, was spending the evening with Ms. DeNeer, the woman who had organized the friendship festival, and her children.
Mr. Gambit and Rogue were going into the city on a date and planned to spend the night there in one of the apartments in the city they owned. Sofia had never been to one but apparently there were a few, and one “shithole” Rogue refused to stay in for some reason because someone else they knew (Wade something, Sofia thought) had stayed there before and left it in a dire state. It was difficult to piece it all together, and Sofia thought it was better not to ask, but she definitely got the sense that Mr. Gambit and Rogue got up to things in the city that they kept from their charges.
Mr. Logan and Jubilee were staying in Haven, but Mr. Logan usually kept to himself and Jubilee liked to go into the center of the small town and hang out with some college students her age she’d met on one of her grocery runs.
In other words: Adult supervision on Saturday would be minimal, and that was the best night to make a break for it.
The other two Outliers — Valentin and Hotoru, who were called Ransom and Deathdream — were less convinced.
“You’re asking to get grounded,” Val had said, propped up in his bed with a book when Sofia had looked in on him to see if he wanted to come with them. “And you’re already coming off a three-day suspension at school. Seems risky, Sof.”
“Bbbecca needs a bbbreak, so I’m ttaking her out” she’d said firmly. “Are yyou coming orrr nnot?”
Val had shaken his head. “No can do, sorry. I have a video call with Idie tonight. Had to miss the last one, she had a mission.”
Idie — Temper — was Val’s sort-of girlfriend. She lived up in Alaska with another group of X-Men. Sofia knew they’d danced and kissed at the Hellfire Vigil, but Val was frustratingly discreet about how it had gone otherwise.
“You wwwon’t tell on us?”
“Nah, I’m not a snitch. Go, but be careful. I can only do so much to cover for you if you get caught.”
“Thanks Vvval,” Sofia had said, hugging him.
She’d asked Hotoru next, not expecting him to want to come but determined to include him anyway. He’d politely declined, preferring instead to hang out in the graveyard.
“The last time I was there I made contact with a dead toddler,” he’d said dreamily. “It was wonderful.”
“I … sure, Hhhotoru. Have fun.”
So it was that Becca and Sofia had brazenly walked out the front door Saturday night, with no sign of any grownups. They wore civilian clothes: shorts, tees and sneakers. They looked like any other teenagers out on a weekend evening. Sofia’s jet black hair was done up in a messy bun, while Becca’s golden tresses were in a loose ponytail.
Waffles, the hybrid Sentinel dog that had glommed onto their unconventional household, had followed Hotoru to the graveyard. The trio of LeBeau cats had been sleeping in a pile in a basket on the front porch. The orange one, Lucifer, had awoken and woven himself between their legs in greeting, then flopped back down in the basket with his drowsy brothers. Mr. Logan was around but had made no move to stop them from leaving, and didn’t even acknowledge that they were going. If he knew they’d gone out he kept it to himself.
Becca’s horse, Ember (well, sort of; Sofia still wasn’t sure what the deal was there), had cried out to them from the barn with a forlorn whinny.
“You can’t come this time,” Becca had called back, and the whinnying stopped.
All of the available cars were taken, and Sofia wouldn’t have wanted to press her luck there anyway, picturing the reaction from Rogue and Mr. Gambit if they got caught by the police driving without a license. So they had gone into the city the boring way, walking up the road to the bus stop. It took a while and wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it got them there. And it had been worth it, Sofia thought as she watched Becca eat the last bite of beignet.
I hope this will keep the nightmares away for a little while, Ballerina.
They ordered a second plate of beignets but then had to stop or the sugar rush would be too much. Then they were back out on the square, the evening warmth and buzzing energy of the crowd drawing them in.
“I’m not sure what all we can do here,” Becca said a little glumly. “We can’t get into most of the jazz places. I think most of them are twenty-one and over at night.”
“It’s OK,” Sofia said. “Wwee can just wwaalk around. I’m hhappy doing thhhat if you are.”
“Always,” Becca said, and the two teenage girls walked arm-in-arm around the city’s vibrant center. It was getting a little rowdier as the evening wore on, but nothing dangerous.
It didn’t take long for Sofia to lose track of where they were, exactly. The Quarter covered a neat grid of streets, but all the intersections looked similar, with their beautiful townhouses and ironwork lining the street and tourists wandering around in various states of inebriation.
“I ttthink I ggot turned around,” Sofia finally admitted, looking for a street sign to get her bearings and loading up the maps app on her phone only to find that its battery had gone dead. Oops. Should have charged it for longer before we left.
There were still people out walking, but the throngs had lightened somewhat, and Sofia thought they might be veering into a totally different part of the city.
Just as she was about to ask Becca for help navigating, though, Sofia heard a pair of low, muffled voices coming from a darkened, narrow street perpendicular to the one they were on, which was wider and properly lit. She quickly hustled Becca to the street corner, where they could peer down the darker street.
“Ya better hurry it up, ‘fore someone see us,” one of them said, in an accent that reminded Sofia of Mr. Gambit’s.
“Oui, I’mma comin’,” the second one said grumpily. The two men were wearing all black and standing behind a big boxy black van, the kind used by tradespeople. It was then that Sofia noticed that there were actually three people, not two. The third was another man, his head covered in a bag, his mouth gagged and his hands bound behind him. He was propped up against the van but looked like he might fall over at any moment. His muffled protestations were incomprehensible, but Sofia knew distress when she saw it. Also, the whole handcuffs and bag-on-the-head vibe. And, er, the gag.
Crack detective work, Jitter.
The two teenagers stood, frozen, staring down at the bizarre scene. The first two men shoved the third one into the back of the van. One of them, with a swarthy complexion and a heavy build, walked around the left side to get into the driver’s seat, while the other, who was tall, thin and similarly swarthy, stood by the open van door and made a phone call.
“Madame. Yes, we have ‘im. Don’ t’ink anyone see us. We be at de house in fifteen, twen’y minutes. Dependin’ on traffic. Oui, we wait fo’ you, à bientôt.”
The driver stuck his head out the window then and yelled back to his accomplice.
“Claude, I forgot ta lock up, can you do de honors?”
The man grunted something and then proceeded to trot back into the building the van was parked in front of. He’d left the vehicle’s back door ajar.
Sofia’s mind raced. These two goons were just … kidnapping … someone, taking him who knew where. They had no idea where they were, or where the men were taking this guy. If they left now, there’d be no catching them. They could get close enough to read the license plate, but Sofia had a feeling the plate would be disappearing very, very soon.
There was really only one thing to do. And Becca wasn’t gonna like it.
“Bbbecca, we have to get in that vvvan,” Sofia whispered urgently. “Wwwe have to help that gguy.”
“What?!” Becca screeched, loud enough that Sofia worried about the goons hearing them. “No. No. We’ll go home, we’ll call Mama — I mean, Ms. LeBeau — and Mr. Gambit and tell them what happened. And they’ll know what to do!”
Sofia shook her head.
“It’ll bbee too late bby then. We gggotta go nnoow.”
Becca’s resolve gave way and she allowed herself to be dragged around the corner, down the sidewalk and into the back of the van, carefully staying outside the view of the driver-side rear-view mirror. The girls had barely gotten inside when the second guy came back out and shut the rear door — luckily not looking inside at all — before walking up and getting into the passenger seat.
The back of the van was pitch black, with no window or access to the front. Sofia could sense their bound companion, and knew he knew they were there, too, but being gagged and blindfolded, there wasn’t much he could do. Sofia just hoped he knew they were there to help — she didn’t dare say anything, nor did Becca — and wouldn’t attempt to narc on them.
The van was moving then, turning corners and stopping occasionally. Sofia had no clue where they were going, but the guy had said it’d be only fifteen or twenty minutes. They couldn’t be going too far, then.
Becca was squeezing Sofia’s hand so tightly it hurt, and she immediately regretted their decision, but it was too late now. They’d both been through worse, surely.
The van’s driver wasn’t particularly concerned with the speed limit or traffic signals, apparently, because they were constantly being thrown around. Sofia knew she’d have bruises on her shoulders later, and just hoped they wouldn’t make enough noise to draw notice as they occasionally bunged up against the sides of the van. Sofia had hoped to have Becca, whose phone still had power, call Rogue or Mr. Gambit or Mr. Logan or someone on the way, but the jostling was too much and besides, they didn’t want to make too much noise and alert the men that they were there.
Finally they stopped — for real, not just a traffic light — and Sofia heard the men open the driver and passenger doors. Which meant they’d be heading for the back of the van to discover their two stowaways.
“Becca,” Sofia whispered. “I’m gggoing tto knock them out. Orrr at least try to. Sstay down, OK?”
“OK,” Becca whispered, crawling back toward the front of the van and leaving Sofia to face the doors, which would soon open.
“Sssavate,” Sofia whispered, setting the timer on her watch, just as the van doors opened.
The two men were entirely unprepared for any shenanigans, let alone a tiny teenage girl who came at them in a furious maelstrom of punches and kicks, her sneaker-clad feet flying in all directions and catching them every which way.
“What de hell,” the one called Claude yet, throwing up his arms to block Sofia’s kicks. “Georges, someone got demselves in our van wit’ Monsieur De Vere.”
“Sure I can see dat,” Georges, the second man, groused, as Sofia’s foot caught him under the chin.
Uh oh, Sofia thought as her watch timer ran dangerously down. Despite her work with Herr Nightcrawler, she still struggled to use her powers for more than a minute at a time, with an hour rest period in between. Kurt had promised that eventually she’d have control for longer, with shorter breaks needed after, but that was a long ways off and of no help to them now.
For even as she landed hits left and right, the men still refused to move and there was no clear way for Sofia and Becca to get away with their prisoner.
Beep beep beeeeep.
Sofia was done, and though she’d done some impressive damage, it hadn’t been enough.
The men noticed immediately that the kicking had stopped, and Claude wrapped his arms around Sofia’s waist in a bear hug.
“I ain’t got any clue who you are, fille, but fo’ de love o’ God, hol’ still,” he huffed.
“Becca, run!” Sofia yelled, kicking her legs out as the man held onto her.
Becca, for her part, darted out of the back of the van, catching her foot on the tied-up Monsieur De Vere (whoever he was supposed to be) and stumbling into the arms of Georges, who caught her before she face-planted on the driveway pavement.
Please, Becca, use your powers, Sofia thought.
“Cavalier!” Becca screamed, startling Georges and causing him to drop her. The blonde girl was suddenly engulfed in flames, fiery armor enveloping her and a hot spear in one hand and a sword in the other. She sat astride an astral projection of Ember, the horse itself also wrapped in fire.
“Mon dieu,” breathed Claude, who released his hold on Sofia. Sofia raced over to her girlfriend and jumped onto fire-Ember’s back, wrapping her arms around Becca.
“Waaait,” Sofia yelled as Becca made to race off. “We cccan’t leave hhhim.”
That hesitation cost them dearly. Sofia heard only one word — “Collars!” — before she felt something cold and metallic around her neck. Somehow, someone else had made it through Becca’s astral fire and placed a similar collar on her. Her projection vanished, along with the horse, leaving both girls collared and terrified on the driveway pavement.
“Get ‘em inside,” Claude said, hauling Becca up by her arm and jerking her toward the door. Georges similarly manhandled Sofia. “We’ll grab De Vere in a minute, he ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Only then did Sofia really get a good look of where they were. Before them stood a massive, eerie bayou manse, lights on throughout and pillars standing like sentinels lining the porch. It was back off the main road a ways, with a crescent driveway leading to it from a massive wrought-iron entry gate.
She’d never seen a house so big and so imposing before. Sofia loved Haven House, felt at home there and safe, but this was something else entirely.
Georges opened the door and pulled Sofia inside, while Claude did the same with Becca. The inside of the house was as opulent and beautiful as its exterior, but now, Sofia could sense something cold about it. Its beauty was disarming but unwelcoming.
The front hall was lit with hanging overhead pendant lights, with a large staircase at the end of it. The girls, though, were taken into a sitting room off to the left, where a thin, pale, reedy man with glasses, black pants, a black vest and a white dress shirt — he looked almost like a waiter, or a fancy librarian — was waiting, sat behind a massive oak desk. The room was beautifully decorated, with lavish rugs, a chandelier and an ornate mantel. Detailed crown molding lined the ceiling. Despite her terror at what potentially awaited them, Sofia couldn’t help but be awestruck. Becca, on the other hand, didn’t react much — hell, it might have been less fancy than where she grew up.
Claude left them then to go back out to get De Vere, who was unceremoniously dumped on the floor of the sitting room.
At least we got to stay standing, Sofia thought.
“Ah, Monsieur De Vere,” the waiter-librarian said in a clipped, aristocratic accent with no trace of yat about it. “Glad to have you here. Our madame sends her regrets that she’s running late, but she’ll be here soon.”
He then turned his attention to Becca and Sofia, and the collars they wore.
“Care to tell me, gentlemen, what you’re doing with a pair of children and why those children are collared?”
“Dey be muties,” Georges said, pointing to his arms and chin. “Stowed away in de back o’ de van. De dark-haired one, dat lil shit, she knock de hell outta us, an’ de blonde, she set herself on fire.”
“I see,” the older man said flatly, as if he’d been told something completely normal. “Do you know why they stowed away?”
The two men stared.
“We, er, didn’ t’ink ta ask,” Claude muttered.
The man nodded and spoke to the girls.
“Young ladies, if you please, how did you end up in their humble van?”
Don’t say anything, Becca, Sofia thought, hoping she could project some sense into her girlfriend. Don’t tell them anything.
“We … we thought you were kidnapping someone!” Becca cried.
Well, there goes the element of surprise.
The older man smiled.
“Well, in a sense, you’re right, I’m afraid. Guilty! Shame-faced and all. But believe me when I say that Monsieur De Vere does not deserve your rescue attempts or anyone else’s. Valiant though it may be.
“Having said that, though, you did show a regrettable lack of common sense and even less of a sense of self-preservation. Which leaves us in a pickle. Whatever are we going to do with you?”
“Dey could still be here for de festival last week,” Georges offered. “In dat case, if dey be tourists, no one gonna miss ‘em for a while. Plenty o’ time ta cover our tracks.”
“No!” Becca wailed. “We’re not tourists.”
“Sure as God’s witness, petite fille, ain’t neither of you from here,” Claude pointed out.
“We’re not from here,” Becca said. “But we’re not tourists.”
“Bbecca, don’t tttell them annnything!” Sofia snapped.
“We just want to know what happened and how you ended up here. And if anyone local will be missing you,” the older man said. He had no hint of anger or cruelty in him, but his even-handed calmness still creeped Sofia out.
“If they think we’re tourists, they’ll kill us!” Becca cried to Sofia in a panic. “That’s what they said.”
The older man sighed.
“Despite our, ahem, Guild name, we don’t normally kill without a reason. And I’d hate to break that rule over a truly vile specimen such as Monsieur De Vere. If you tell us how two teenage mutants ended up in New Orleans and, more specifically, in my colleagues’ van tonight, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Haven!” Becca all but yelled, tilting her chin up. “We’re from Haven. Haven House!”
The color drained from the older man’s face, and the air of exasperated haughtiness left him.
“You … you’re mutants? Living in Haven?”
“Yesss!” Becca wailed, optimistically hoping this information would mean their imminent release.
Instead the older waiter-librarian man turned to Claude and Georges, and Sofia sensed a rising anger in him.
Rising anger, and growing fear. Definitely fear.
“You idiots,” he hissed. “Do you know, do you realize, we’re all going to die?”