Blind

She didn't like the dark. Never did. Even when surrounded by teddy bears and books and flashlights and action figures, the small, flickering nightlight beside her bed would cast wraithlike coal shadows across her ceiling while simultaneously sending shivers down her spine. She would squeeze her eyes shut to avoid the half-masked demons crawling beneath her bed and up her walls. But if she turned on her lights, her parents would yell at her and tell her there's nothing there in the light that wasn't in the dark. But she knew her parents lied. After all, some nightmares came true. Her life, for example, had become one long, endless black night.

"Francine--"

She jumped.

"Easy there." His breath was hot and wet beneath her ear and made her cringe. "No use getting all bent out of shape yet. The guests of honor haven't even arrived."

Francine swallowed. The man was old enough to be her father. Almost old enough for her grandfather. "I've never focused on a group, Mr. Bernhardt. I--I'm not sure if..."

"Understood," he sighed. "You'll be fine, Francine. Just concentrate like they taught you."

She squirmed a little behind the packing crate. The two of them were hidden, in the dark of course, in the foyer of a monstrous, empty warehouse dotted with shadows. The shipment of medical supplies was due within the hour. Their guests were expected a few minutes after that. But Bernhardt had wanted her to wait with him. In the dark. He had pressed himself up against her, keeping her fear fresh. If she could mask her fear, he wouldn't kill her. If she could survive this last test, they said she could go free. Francine didn't really believe them, but it didn't matter. If she didn't do what they said, she was dead anyway.

"You'll be fine, Frannie. But while we wait..." Bernhardt whispered in her ear, tickling it, and stroked her cheek. "Why don't we find some nice, fun way to pass the time?"

Francine shut her eyes tight and surrendered to the dark place in her mind.

*     *     *

"It's a set up, Stormy."

Gambit's red-on-black eyes caught every detail of the three dockworkers struggling with a heavy crate. The men were doing their jobs in neon lemon jumpsuits, as if plastered with huge "Come get me" signs across their chests. Another group of workers checked over their shoulders nervously, searching the trees and parking lot for activity. They look like ants taking food to their queen, Remy thought sullenly. And we're part of the menu.

He put a cigarette between his smooth lips. "I don't like it."

Storm promptly plucked Remy's cigarette and pulverized it beneath her heel. "You don't have to like it. And yes, of course this is a set up. No one but X-Men would have responded to this type of distress call."

He grunted. "Yeah, only us mutant hero types. Hip-hip-hoo-RAY."

"Hush."

She tilted her dark head carefully, hearing a rustle behind her. She trusted the noise, and let it relax her nerves.

"You wanna put this off for another night, bosslady?"

"No." She shook her head, and a platinum strand slipped from its covering beneath her dark scarf. Storm carefully tucked it back in place. "Our caller did not lie to us, Wolverine. Remy confirmed that this shipment is filled with medical supplies planned for mutant experimentation. We need to know who's behind it."

The short, hairy mutant grunted and lit a cigar. Gambit stared at him with a small, sad smile. Stormy let the Canadian smoke, but would she let him take a few puffs? 'Course not.

"Sinister?"

Gambit shook his head. "Ain't his style, homme. Smells like a new player."

Wolverine chomped on his cigar and glared at Storm. "So? We goin' in as planned, or do you wanna try somethin' else? Red's pickin' up a few unfriendlies out there. Can't say what I'm smellin's a barrel of laughs, either."

Storm pursed her lips and glanced at the dock from behind high-powered binoculars. The people scuttled about like nervous cockroaches, expecting a noisy entrance from the ground. "We have been in more dangerous situations. The sooner we find the person--or persons--responsible, the sooner we can save lives."

Wolverine shrugged. "You're the boss."

Storm narrowed her eyes as she carefully put away the binocs. "The three of us should take the point on this. I don't trust this situation. If we need to, we can signal or warn the others."

Remy grinned at her. "Let's do dis Nawlins style, Stormy."

She almost smiled. "All right. But only if you stop calling me Stormy."

*     *     *

Gambit led them to the left rear entrance, the second-least protected flank. If it was a trap, it didn't do any good to head straight for the bait, hook line and sinker. Their watchers made the right rear door too obvious. The left side was a bit messy, but it could work. Especially under the cover of night and especially, Gambit thought with a small smile, with a little Bo Staff action. He twirled the stick and silently crept behind a man who nervously waited for the next shipment of boxes. His partner was getting taken out at the same time Wolverine style, but Gambit preferred the simple approach.

"Gotta light, homme?"

"Wha--?"

Whap.

Piece o' cake, Gambit thought, carefully lugging the unconscious man into a ditch and stripping him from his yellow coveralls. Remy caught the smile on his face, and stopped. Yep. Tailor-made and all too easy.