Acknowledgments: First of all, I'd like to thank Yona, my stand-in, and Phrykyh, my usual editor, for taking on this chapter. Second of all, I'd like to offer a belated "Thank you" to the World Wrestling Federation, for giving me the idea to have the characters go watch some quality sports entertainment. Thirdly and lastly, I want to thank both Edana and Jim Smith for some random trivia and plotting help. But you're still not getting my Bud Light.
 

Now, on with the show!
 
 

Questing
X-Men/Mage: The Ascension
 

Chapter Four
 

Remy expertly darted in and out of the rows of people leaving Madison Square Garden, his hands in his jacket pockets, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He had no real rhythm to the way he moved, although someone watching could tell that he always seemed to dart in front of or right behind rather attractive young women.

Warren strolled confidently along, his head held high, his arms down at his side. He walked with a definite air about him, the kind that made people step aside because someone worthier was stepping by.

Bobby sauntered along, grinning widely, a plastic bag hanging from the crook of one elbow, his arms folded across his chest. He openly smiled to anyone who paid any attention to him, commenting on the final match of the evening if they listened long enough.

Scott moved forward with a distinct rhythm to his steps, each foot hitting the ground with a bit more force than was necessary. He kept his shoulders square and his back straight, forcing a commanding look on his face.

Logan stayed slightly hunched over, making him seem even shorter than his full height of 5'3". His hands constantly clenched and unclenched, and he snarled at anyone who gave him anything even remotely resembling a cheery look. 

Once they had forced their way free from the torrent of wrestling fans, they were quite an odd, threatening assortment of men, even though they were simply walking down the sidewalk.

Warren glanced over at Bobby. "Just out of curiosity, what exactly did you decide to spend money on in there?"

Bobby grinned, uncrossed his arms, and opened the bag. "This," he said proudly, pulling a black T-shirt from the bag.

Warren quirked an eyebrow at the shirt, which had silhouettes of three figures with their heads down on the front with the words "II Cool" on the bottom. "I, uh, can't think of anything to say," he said, scratching his head.

Remy patted his pockets. "Merde, an' on de day I forget my camera, too," he said, unable to hide a grin. Warren grumbled something under his breath.

"What now, Slim?" Logan said, walking up beside Scott. "It's only 11:30. Night's still young, ya know."

Scott's forehead creased. "Not sure. Hank's back at the lab, and will probably stay there well until the morning. Jean and the girls aren't due back for another week and a half, and Charles said he'd be out on business until around then. Our schedules are rather open for the next while."

Logan thought for a moment. "That's all well an' good, Slim, but it doesn't do jack fer my question. What're we doin' -now-?"

Bobby slipped in front of Warren to walk on Scott's other side. "Yeah, if something interesting doesn't happen soon," he said, tucking the shirt back into the bag, "we're going to need to call up Magneto or Apocalypse just to pass the day."

Scott angled his head towards Bobby. "Let's not hope for that. I'm looking forward to time off, not time spent trying to match my wallpaper color for the fourth time."

Remy checked his watch, and then looked at Scott over his sunglasses, his red-on-black eyes gleaming. "Let's not make a big deal outta it, but dere's somebody followin' us."

Scott eyed Remy and opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off. "Yep. Not a smell I recognize, either. Whoever this is has got some weirdness 'bout 'em."

Scott nodded imperceptibly. "Okay. First of all, don't do anything to let him know we know he's there. Secondly, don't split up. I know it'd be a good way to see which of us he's following, but I don't want to separate us. For the time being, he's following all of us, and he'll deal with all of us."

Logan sniffed the air again. "Two of 'em. One smells like a horse. Both of 'em smell funny. Diff'rent."

Warren's forehead creased. "How so?" he asked the shorter X-Man, slipping his hands out of his jacket.

Logan shrugged minutely. "Don't really know, Pretty Boy," he said, looking up at Warren. "Can only tell so much from a smell. Boys seem weird. That's all."

"Okay. Stop at this Sentra up here," Scott said, gesturing to a gray Nissan car parked a few lengths away. "Act like it's our car. Bobby, go for the driver's seat, you look like you'd drive one more than the rest of us. Remy, you get a look at them from the other side and let us know if they look like they'd be any trouble. Logan, stay in the back just in case this person tries to rush. Warren, stay by Logan and myself. Make it look normal."

Bobby walked past Scott, grinning and talking about the match, as he fished in his pockets for the keys. Scott leaned against the back bumper, checking his watch. Logan stopped a few feet from the car, tucking his hands into his pockets. Warren flashed a trademark perfect grin as Bobby stopped by the driver's door, talking and laughing. Remy produced a lighter as he slipped around the side of the car to light the cigarette that seemed to just appear in his mouth.

Bobby watched Remy's every movement as the Cajun lit his cigarette, took the first drag of it, and then blew the smoke out, a contented grin on his face. Bobby raised his eyebrows, and then a flash of understanding crossed his face. He turned around, leaned against the car, and looked down the garage.

Scott, Warren, and Logan, seeing Bobby and Remy looking very sure of themselves, all simultaneously turned and looked to see who was behind them, Logan with a dubious look on his face.

Two men stood before them, arms crossed over their chests, appraising the situation. The one standing more in front wore a black leather jacket over a medium-sized frame, and had thin black hair dangling in places over his face. The other was dressed in a rumpled red shirt and corduroy pants, and had short blond hair sticking out at odd angles from his head. Both men had rather bemused looks on their face.

Scott drew himself up a bit. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

The one in front nodded. "You certainly can, beginning with why you're standing around my car."

Bobby slipped his keys back into his pocket, whistling.

Scott folded his arms in front of him, mirroring the two men. Warren stepped forward and spoke. "Well, then you can explain why you followed us here," he said, an authoritative air in his voice.

The black-haired one dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh. "We were walking to my car," he said, obviously exasperated. "The car that you currently are standing around. Are we just not connecting, or...?"

Logan growled low, earning a sideways glance from everyone around the car, including the two strangers. The blond man looked as if he were going to say something, but decided against it. Warren did much the same thing.

Bobby's jaw suddenly dropped. "Hey! HEY! I know you two!"

The sideways glance shifted to Bobby, who had dropped the plastic bag and was almost pointing at the two men. "Don't you guys recognize them?" he asked incredulously, looking at the other four X-Men. "It's the wrestlers! The guys who bailed out the Rock!"

The blond man scoffed. "We helped Y2J win. We did not help any 'jabroni.'" 

"But you blasted Benoit with that chair," Bobby pointed out, looking confused. "And that kept him from landing the flying headbutt on the Rock."

The blond man waved two fingers in front of him. "Nonono. I hit Benoit because, as everyone knows, Benoit and Jericho are bitter rivals, and any loss on Benoit's part, whether in a tag match or a singles match, will take away any momentum. I did NOT hit him to help the Rock, that overblown 'piece of monkey crap,'" he said, mocking the final catchphrase of the Rock.

Bobby nodded, understanding on his face. "I get it. You figure that now Jericho will have the upper hand in their next match. And, since you hit him with a chair to the back and he fell onto the canvas, his back and sides might be hurting, which will make the Walls of Jericho that more potent."

The blond stranger grinned. "A man after my own heart."

Scott glanced back at Bobby. "How... no, WHY does all that knowledge of tactics stop at professional wrestling?"

Bobby grinned. "Oh, come on. You think Erik Lehnsherr would just get knocked out and fall over long enough for us to beat him if I did a Senton Bomb off a ladder?"

Remy blinked at him. "From surprise, p'raps..."

The stranger in the front raised his eyebrows. "Ah, so you DO fight Magneto. That'll make this go a lot more smoothly."

Scott slowly brought his gaze back to bear on the man in front, his features hardening into a chiseled, stoic impassive state. When he spoke, his voice echoed with a terrifyingly calm air of superiority. His body seemed to grow slightly, and he took a step towards the man in front. "What did you say?" he muttered low.

"Well, if it's perfectly clear that we know who you are, then the rest of this conversation should go off without a hitch," the man in front said, in a very matter-of-fact fashion.

"Please, mes amis," Remy said, scorn evident in his voice. "Any homme c'n pick a newspaper dese days, read de front page, an' make up some story to try an' get someone else unraveled."

The man in the back, the blond one, stepped up. "Right. And any old 'homme' can rattle of the alias of one of the greatest megalomaniacs of our day, someone YOU seem to know on a personal level, after you give his true name."

Remy snorted. "Nice trick, mon ami. You'll 'ave to do better den dat to impress us."

The blond man snorted, echoing Remy. "You want me to spear you like I did that Canadian piece of crap in the ring?" he asked, stepping in front of his companion.

Remy stepped up to the front of the X-Men, eye to eye with the stranger. "Dere's no way you'd live long 'nough to try it, homme."

"Cajun's right, pretty boy."

All heads swiveled to see three rather large men standing around fifty feet away from them, two with large, blocky handguns, the other with a heavy chain dangling by his side. The one in the middle, with the chain, spoke again. "What you boys should all do is just slowly and carefully take your wallets out, drop 'em on the ground, and step back from 'em," he said, waving the chain around in a jangling motion.

Remy and the blond man both couldn't help but have a small, sly grin spread across their faces. Remy turned to face the man, and the stranger leaned back. "Mind telling us why, exactly?" the blond man said, almost playfully.

"Or what happens jus' in case we're not as gen'rous as you hope we'll be?" Remy said, before he casually blew another cloud of smoke in the air.

The man who spoke clasped the chain in both hands and pulled it taut a few times, smiling maliciously. "Use your imagination," he sneered.

The dark-haired stranger grinned charmingly. "Funny. I'm miles ahead of you already."

A sudden shout broke the tension as one of the gunmen dropped to the ground, clutching his head with his free hand. The other two thugs watched him for a moment, plainly surprised. 

The man with the chain didn't even have a chance to look back at the group before Remy came flying through the air, landing a perfect flying kick into the man's sternum. Logan launched himself into action a split second later, catching the second gunman with a direct punch to the jaw, sending him sprawling on the ground.

Bobby was a second or two behind Logan, jumping forward and driving his knee into the man with the chain. His nose broken and gushing, the thug hit hard for a second time. 

Logan just pounced on the one he took down and proceeded to pummel him with varied punches, evidently having a blast. The man underneath the short, hairy mutant tried to cover up, but Logan seemed to not even care as he gleefully battered the man.

Scott and Warren ran forward and grabbed Logan by one arm apiece, trying to pull him off the bloodied mugger. Logan assented after another good minute and a half of beating the man to a pulp, and then allowed Scott and Warren to drag him away.

"Son of a bitch...."

Remy looked up from his crouch at the first gunman, worry etched on his face. The man had the gun out in front of him, but it wasn't aimed at Logan like the Cajun feared it might have been. Instead, it was aimed at the dark-haired stranger, who was looking the other way, watching for any other vehicles or reinforcements.

"You did that to me, didn't you?" he mumbled under his breath, bringing the gun up to bear. "You made me scream, didn't you?" He squinted, staring through the sights on the gun. His left eye twitched. "Well, now I'm going to make you scream. Scream like a little stuck bitch."

The blond man looked up from behind the Sentra. 

"Alexander!"

The sound of a Glock 9 firing drowned out the shout.