1963-10-29 - All That Money, Honey!
Summary: The Brotherhood does a bank job; it goes as well as expected!
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
cain gambit domino fred raven 


One would find that when you put a plan together, the best way to do it is on the fly. Somewhat. Granted, Raven had cased the place and had managed to get into the city government halls to get the schematics of the bank, even the underground acqueducts that were built beneath the place just in case they were over-run, still. Three days. Three days to get everyone together into that tight little cramped tenement, where the wall was busted open to expand the upper echelons of the apartment building itself, with buckets of plaster and a shit ton of black bags and various tools of the trade nearby. Finding a place to sit is what was the pits, but they made due with the table laid out in front and all of the plans spread out, all of them huddled around the table in examination.

Well, some of them at least.

"Study the layout of the building." She says, stalking the proverbial round-table of the Brotherhood as she gestures towards the blueprints. "All matters of egress, memorize it. We cannot afford any mistakes in this. I want it timed. Five minutes in. Five minutes out. Make your necessary preparations, we're going to go in hot. Domino, you're on crowd control. Gambit, you handle the vault. Fred and Cain, you handle the money and the contents within the vault along with Gambit. Take everything. Leave -nothing- behind."

The plan of action was set. Preparations were made. Cars were stashed in appropriate places and safe houses were set up for each individual.

"After the heist we rendezvous in Mutant Town. Here's the address."

(Naturally, the rendezvous point will be at some sorry ass warehouse, where money will be divided and everything else examined. While the Tenement would be a good choice, Raven likes to cover her bases. She sleeps here, by the by!)


The bank itself was a small building; but it houses the money that belonged to random fat cats and mobsters ranging from local small time bosses to the Maggia. Granted Raven hit them hard not too long ago, but the era of terror doesn't end there. She was going to hit them where it hurts; the pocket books. From the time in the Italian restaurant, there was word that money was being moved to and from this particular bank, and even the shady businesses and practices were being housed in the vault where small safety deposit boxes were. And she'd have them all. Not to mention the money that would have been piled up like Scrooge McDucks! There would be a ton of cash to swim in and to make the dreams, however ill fated they were, realized.

Raven's position? Upon the rooftops of the bank, out there in high noon, sniper rifle placed and scope lined up to watch the front of the building to spy who comes and who goes. Surely, there were a few families who stuck their moneys into the bank itself. And a few who withdrew and came in to exchange coins for dollars. Savings accounts, jewelry.. you name it. It was stashed here.

Due to the times, there would be no communication, and why would there? There was a little bit of trust for them to get out and do so on their own, she didn't need to bark orders for that freak flag would be flying and they knew their jobs. There was just a tiny glimmer of hope; hope that they wouldn't take the money and run off to do their own thing with their share. Or, any little act of betrayal that would have Raven or another to put a bullet in between their eyes for not following the plan..

But here goes nothing.

One o'clock is when everything was to set off; and Raven, watch upon her wrists watches as the seconds slowly.. count down.. to one. Tick-tock!


Remy sits up with a start, somewhere in Hell's Kitchen. He sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes as his black and red eyes attempt to focus upon the alarm clock across from the couch where he makes his bed. It's no use at first, so he swings himself around, using his ass as the center of rotation. His feet hit the floor and he rubs at his face.

He feels good. Like really, really good. Like when you have overslept go…He looks to the clock. 12:45. Shit.


Cain is waiting in the alleyway across from the bank. He has a massive hooded coat on, making him look like the worlds most terrifying monk. In the darkness of the hood, his dark eyes gleam a bit with crimson light as he takes note of the time, "Damn Cajun's runnin' behind," he mutters, "He gets a minute and then I'm just gonna charge and rip a hole through the damn wall. I dunno why we need his pretty boy ass in the first place. Fred, you got a sack or something to carry shit, or are you just gonna stick money in your folds? Cause…fuck no."


Fred squinted across the street at a clock atop a street post. Remy was late… but he'd never known the man to be early so that fit. "He'll be here." Fred grunted as he shifted the load on his back. He did indeed have a sack. Sacks. Two or three old army surplus sacks, big, green, sturdy things with a draw string cinch and thick straps. His attention swept to Cain, a scowl painted across his features, "'Course I brought some damn bags y'fuckin' idjit!" he snarled as he heaved the bag holding other bags from his shoulder and knelt down, emptying of it's contents… along with a mask.

Red, a cheerful red with black lines inked across it to make them look like webs. The eyeholes were vaguyely almond shaped. He pulled the string back and slipped it over his face. It bathed his nose in his own breath… but he had bruished his teeth this mornin' so he was right set. "'Ere!" he offered, tossing two sacks Cain's way, looking like the g'damned fattest spider man in overalls anyone had ever seen.


For most people a bank heist wouldn't begin with a pile of ground up chalk dust, hair spray, and white face paint. Domino's just gotta go and be different. Her jet black hair is now a matte smokey grey. The black spot around her one eye has been temporarily erased, now as bleached out as the rest of her skin. She's even gone through the trouble of putting together an outfit specifically for this job, all white and light grey. She's effectively turned herself into a ghost for Halloween!

Crowd control is actually an ideal place for her to be, Raven may have been lucky in her ruling. As far as can be determined this bank still uses monochrome security cameras. As chance would have it, the project which created Dom went with an albino specifically to have a natural defense against these kinds of cameras. What evidence the lenses do manage to pick up won't be enough for the authorities to work off of.

Her own watch (white, naturally) is a cheap street vendor affair that'll get torched with the rest of her outfit once they're done. When they're down to the last few seconds she makes her move, briskly stepping out into the open then going right in through the front doors.

Just one person on crowd control? No problem, she's got two pistols. They're brought out and spun around hooked index fingers an instant before she sweeps a leg through the air and kicks one of the security guards in the head, dropping the unaware guy out cold.


"Hands up heads down! This is not a drill!"


'Well what the heck do you mean I can't take out a loan?!'
'Well, Mr. Fitzgerald said that your credit..'
'I have -kids-! Okay! I need to feed my -kids!-'
'Now now, Carl, we know that you don't have kids. You don't even have a wife -to- have kids.'
'I'm being bamboozled here!'
'I don't think you'd know..'


The bullet cracks through the ceiling, a few bits and pieces of dust falling upon Domino's white shoulder but it wouldn't be seen by the naked eye. But her point was made clear.

The two tellers that were on duty immediately scream, as the lingering crowd who had awaited their turn to see the lovely women immediately jump and dash to the ground. There were men present. Maybe a kid or two. Women who held their babies close against their bodies and shielded them with their decorative jackets.

The guard outcold? Was no match for Domino.. and yet..

There was another who hid within the corner as soon as he saw that first kick. He shook and rattled within his horrid little security guard outfit with his hat covering his face.

Raven herself couldn't outright see Fred and Cain. Though she did keep watch upon the building. That quiet, muffled shot had her hunkering down, one knee to the cold roof, her eye pressed to the scope as she feels along upon her case to retrieve a bullet, carefully loading the sniper rifle with a series of notches, clicks, and a glance to the left at the implanted flag there.

If Remy were to come through the front? She must have missed it. His lateness? Well, expected.

"One o'clock." She murmured quietly. "Boys up next."


"Y'all best settle on down, de Cajun is he-ah, de Cajun is he-ah." Remy saunters by Fred and Cain, slowing only to wink as the gunshot rings out. He opens the door, tapping on the tile slowly with his bow staff. "'urry up, twee'l dee and twee'l dum." Amongst the pandemonium, he remains incredibly calm, almost gliding across the floor.

When he gets to the wooden partition that separates the area between where the public stands and the workers work, Remy stops for a moment to salute one of the teller's with a tip of his cap, "M'lady."


Cain approaches the front of the building and casually grabs the rotating door that marks one of the entrances. He rips it clear out, sending showers of glass around as he flings the mechanism back over his head with one hand, tearing an opening large enough for himself. Then he busts it out a bit wider with his fists to make room for his more dumpling-esque associate.

He has put on a Halloween mask, but it's a weird one, a plastic mold of Richard Nixon's face that's built for a regular man's face, meaning it only covers about half of Cain's, leaving Tricky Dick with a second mouth down underneath.

"Go ahead, scream your damn heads off, yer gettin' robbed anyway," he says, ignoring anything between him and the vault as he heads back towards the money.


Fred grunts his displeasure, collecting the sacks once mmore. So he's designated bag man… Fine, maybe-

No, Boss set the plan. Follow the plan.

He hastend after the pair, thankful for the removal of the rotating door, "Pieces a'shit." he snarled at it as he stepped by it's ruin. The heap of bags over one shoulder, he soldier'd on free as he pleased.


There's something so -very- liberating about this moment… There's the familiar spike of adrenaline but this isn't a combat operation. This is just..-easy.- Maybe Domino didn't see that second guard yet but she's counting on there being more than one. Especially for a bank that deals with the Families this much? There's going to be extra security. First priority is to get everyone on the floor. That's easy enough.

"Everyone -on the ground.- Keep your heads on the floor and everyone's a winner."

Priority two: The alarms. Those'll be behind the counter, which is a lot easier to keep an eye on now that the rest of the team is falling into their respective roles. Gambit's calm demeanor is commendable. Cain's enlarging of the entrance is ..predictable. Fred is playing along well, thankfully.

So long as everyone else is adequately suppressed she's going to start hunting down the remaining guard(s). All it takes is one mistake to mess up the entire operation. If a mistake is made it isn't going to be on her shoulders, dammitall.

"Go make us rich, boys."


The top of the winding staircase that remains roped off from the public, a door creaks itself open at the sound of the gunshot and the screaming few. A pair of eyes peek out from the darkness, the door slowly and quietly clicking shut as the manager of the bank, and a well known 'friend' to the 'Families' immediately crawling upon the floor to tug his phone down and underneath his desk.

'We're being.. rooooooooobbed..' He hisses into the receiver. 'Yes, rooobbed you fucking idiot, d'ya think Babe came in to sign autograp-.. wha? NO police? Are yo— fuck you!'

Out on the floor, it was easy as pie. The men strolled in like the bosses they were, amongst the slight screams, sniffling and cries. While the children didn't move, the women stretched their arms out to show that they weren't hiding any weapons. Some of the men remained curled into little balls while the tellers looked on, redfaced, already swollen from crying their eyes out, even as the slick and handsome Remy taps upon the partition.

One woman, whom we'll call Betsy, was a nice little curvy number. Dark hair and bright eyes (red now), with a bosom that enters the room -before- she does, slowly took those steps forward to lift the latch to unlock the partition and.. well, faints.

(Thankfully, all of that extra umph cushioned the fall.)

While the floor of the bank was open space fitted with desks off to the left; behind the tellers station was a little bit cramped. They had their counter tops, which housed drawers of money underneath, five in total, each belonging to the personal teller which is audited by the end of the week. If a lady did not show up, the money was left untouched and under lock and key. But if they're there? An easy pull and open to reveal wads of cash, some banded and tied off by their respective numbers. There's change too. Rolls of quarters, nickels, dimes all banded and some of them loose.

In that little area, a door which remains locked that leads to a hallway itself, the hallway was wide enough to fit Cain and Fred side by side with a little give, littered with boxes that contained numbers housed in the wall. Keys were required, but the three men knew how to by pass that. But the problem would be the safe.

It was a large construct, a typical mechanical thing fitted with a combination, a spoked wheel that would dial it in for the secondary lock, which if cracked, meant to push in, latch upon the inside, and heavily tug. Usually it would take two men of regular strength to open the door, but in this instance? Not!

Behind that wall was treasure. Pallets of money banded and stacked up against the walls that line the room neatly. It looks to be a clear and clean job..

With the exception of at least twenty men gathering a few blocks over.

And cops. Someone called the cops anyways.


Remy approaches the big vault with a deep, inward purr of pleasure and leans low as he gets out some of his tools. "Grab the registers boys, dis might take jus' a minute or tree." First is the earpiece connected to a microphone, not dissimilar to what a doctor uses to listen to your chest. He places it flush upon the safe and begins to turn things left and right and all which ways.


Not liking this particular approach, Remy sighs as he straightens, overly exaggerating it as he stretches. He reaches towards the hinges that keep the entire thing adhered.



The hinges each begin to flash a bright purple. Those who know Remy's power knows they're about to explode. Not a huge one, just enough to do the deed.

Also, fuck the cops.


"Fill it up, c'mon. Hurry up Darlin. I ain't had lunch yet and I get ornery when I'm hungry!" Fred prattled, having taken Remy's advice and started with the tellers. He shook the bag infront of each in turn, it's mouth open wide as he watched them through the eyes of his mask. Thas' right. all in an we all get t'go home." and have lunch… He aughta have packed one.

He wasn't keen on the red eyes and running make-up… but job was a jobn even if he had to see the snot bubbles of sobbing women. "Crack 'er open and tuck it in, easy as that, c'mon!" he harried one who trembled and delayed. It was enough to spurr her into motion, he continued along, and spotted a man, maybe brave, maybe stupid, maybe gone mad with fear. Either way, a hand was reaching for the stranger's belt line and Fred just managed to make it out through his restricted vision, "Buddy, you pull that hand out an' I'm puttin whatever's innit down your throat, unnerstand? You lay there and keep it quiet an' all you get today is a story." he harangued"


A more careful approach would have included cutting the telephone lines, making a bit less noise, having a few more people on the floor covering everyone else…

But where'd be the fun in THAT?

'Blue' wanted loud and fast, which is just fine and dandy for Domino. The worst part is being surrounded by cash and not being able to do any of the looting, herself! It's hard to do with a gun in each hand! Raven isn't the only one having to place trust in the rest of the team.

The kids are a bit of an annoyance. So long as their parents can keep them in line (while staying on the floor) then she won't complicate matters any further.

That other guard who had gotten himself scared stupid in a corner will find a .380 Colt staring him down just as soon as he pulls his hat away from his face. To help with that the albino whistles a 'yoo-hoo!' at him. "Now I'm just gonna pretend that you didn't hear me the first two times." Her other pistol motions toward the floor, giving the poor guy a chance to 'do the right thing.'

"Now then, would the manager of this fine establishment -kindly- park his ass front and center for me?" Dom calls out, pointing to a spot on the floor with one of her guns. "You -really- don't want to make me hunt you down."


Close to three decades later, Remy's thought would have been turned into words that incite a new era of Gangsta Rap.
Many fans around the world would be riveted by just those three words and America would be in an uproar that closely resembles the times come to now.

But this was a bank robbery; not a history lesson in music!

Maybe there was just way too many obstacles for Remy to go through when it came to opening the safe, but he took the wisest choice, by blasting the thing off the hinges in a cool, quick charge that not only does -not- injure, but creates a pretty bang and a loud creak that was felt upon the floor like a contained earthquake. It rumbles, the door shaking open just a little, and if there was a golden light to show the heavenly bliss that is located inside? Remy would be blinded!

Cain didn't need help from the women, he just moves through like a torrential ball of violence. Cracking open the two registers to fill the money within the bags. Why.. someone could probably hear him whistle..

It was Fred though, who makes the pretty little bitty cry more. His ushering words has her immediately shuffling, blubbering, hands shaking as she spills a bit of coin and money onto the floor, which was soon picked up and shoved into the bag. Her knees were shaking, she stumbled here and there but gods be praised, she got the job done.

Fred and Domino tackle the same man, though Domino was closer and proved to give the most immediate fear. There was a clear puddle that draws beneath the man as he tosses his weapon aside across the floor.. he was done. He's got kids dammit! And this wasn't even -his- bank!

But up top? The phone was slammed down as the white woman made her decree, he immediately rushes to the door to look outside.

'Fuck ya', ya crazy bitch! I ain't coming down there!' He hollars out. Nope, he was safe in his cozy office, where the desk costed more than everyones salaries there. Considering he made bucks upon bucks off the laborous few.. 'You'all a bunch of dead mother fuckers! I DONE SEEN TO IT!'


It was like his words were a mating call for something completely horrible (for anyone else who wanted to do a quick bank job), for once those words were spoken, cars began to filter outside, doors slammed, feet beating the concrete as guns were lifted and men of Italian descent were ready to breach the wide open doors of the bank.

They'd be able to hear it inside.

Raven sees this with a squint of her eye, the aim of the sniper rifle directed towards the window of the bank. Hopefully Domino is smart enough to know that the jig is up..


..the shot cracks out through the air, aimed towards the window, shattering as it flies by to pelt the counter top close to Fred, Domino and maybe a teller. It wasn't a lethal shot, but it was a clear heads up.

Women and children out. It's about to get messy.


"Into de vault, boys. Dats where de real dreams are made," Remy says. He picks up his bo staff and begins to inspect for exits. The front door probably isn't the best bet, but an alleyway toward the tunnels below might be the best bet. There are tunnels below, right? Raven said that, he thinks. It's tough to remember. He's slept since then. Drank since then. And fucked since then.


This is not Cain's first bank. He's systematic, ripping out drawers and dumping contents, not bothering to sort through it. Raven said take it all, they'll take it all. He moves deeper into the vault, hearing the faint echo of the gunshot as it comes through the building.

"Somebody's got an itchy finger, an' I don't think it's one of ours," he says. He doesn't use guns anymore, but he did for long enough that he can tell a sniper rifle from the party favors that Domino brought. "Stupid fuckers are gonna get hurt."



Was it wood, stone? Either way, it is interrupted by a bullet.

Fred inspect the whole, in that he looks at it, and then eyes the window through which it came. Boss had a message.

"Agh hell." he uttere d behind the mask, "Domino, you better come on back." he uttered as he hustled on to the back. He got to work, stuffing the hefty duffles with every sweep of his arm as he emptied the pallets of cash or poured in the contents of lock boxes. When one filled, he would just switch to the second or the third. Not neat, not clean but copious and greedy.


Who needs walkie talkies when one can signal with thirty caliber bullets? Dom's already gone, charging into motion as soon as the manager says those two magical words: 'Fuck ya!' If the rest of the crowd is smart they'll keep themselves the hell -down- while everyone is shooting at each other. Cain's bullet-proof. Fred's hella bullet-resistant. Dom's still pulling her ghost act, and right now she also happens to have a manager on her list of people to hurt.

That voice had originated from up over -there.- Factor in the construction of the building, where the support beams are..ventilation..partitions… While ducking behind one of the many tables within the room she's finding juuuust the right spot to put a few bullets of her own. It's less about the luck and more about running the numbers and taking an educated guess. She won't be happy until the manager's given something to remember her by for the rest of his life, however long that may be.


With the first volley sent through the ceiling toward the hidden man she springs up and leaps sidelong over another table, emptying both magazines as she fires toward those bursting into the building. Hit or miss maybe it'll keep them distracted long enough for her to run for the vault!


'Who the hell fir—..'

"Up here assholes." Raven didn't miss a beat, for as soon as she fired that shot she knew that her position was compromised. But for the love of money and whatever else was housed within the bank, Raven kept herself out in the open, sniper rifle tossed aside in favor of two pistols that she didn't have to load with each bullet manually stuffed within the chamber. Granted, she was a quick draw, she -could- do it? But.. it's all about the distraction!

A hail of bullets could be heard from inside the bank which allows the people to begin their screams. Covering the immediate shots from Domino which has the manager scrambling and leaping across the floor to hide behind a globe of the world as if it were safe. But no. He could feel that sting. A really bad sting.

One that has him howling out in pain as he curls into fetal position with a rock back and forth. He was shot! And with Domino's natural/mutant gift of luck.. it was -not- pretty.

Metal grates were beneath Remy's feet. He could feel the rush of air through a quick spit of a breeze of this poorly constructed bank. Maybe the way out is there!

But holy hell, those big swipes of Cain and Fred were filling those bags up like love. Love is what carried those bags afloat, which stuffed them until the seams threatened to burst, and love better be what gets Domino and Raven their own bags, cause seriously. I'm doing all of this fucking typing and if I don't get me a bag of moolah fucking heads are gonna ro—..


Wall broken, it was time to skedaddle, for while the mob focused fire upon Raven (god bless her), this gives those poor denizens a chance to get up and flee. The guard, he didn't bother going for his gun. Tubby got up and began to run, bending down and grabbing a kid by the scruff to shield him from whatever mess that was about to happen as he runs to the back of the bank.

'FOLLOW ME! SAFE ROOM!' He belts out.

And in the papers tomorrow? He'll be regaled a hero.


Gambit begins to fill his bags, pockets, trenchcoat, boots, with packs of cash. He even pauses to put a small stack in his teeth. "Mrrwr. Mrwwrrwwwr Mrrwwwrrwwrrwwwr."

He places his hands upon the grates, which immediately crackle with violet energy. Even as the grates explode, he's grabbing for two more stacks of cash. The stacks in his hands and eventually the one in his mouth go down his shirt. "Well, dis been ton o' fun, but I tinkin' we should get gone, iffen ya know what I mean, y'all." And then he drops through the hole.


Cain doesn't know shit about love. He know s about money and he knows about destrction. He watches the Cajun start to bail. Trust a fucking thief. Well, okay, technically Cain was a thief, too, but he didn't consider it his primary profession.

His primary profession manifests when he careens back out into the main room to help Raven and Dom. "Stupid monkeys with your stupid guns. When are you gonna learn?" he snarls, beating a fist against his chest hard enough to make a THOOM that vibrates the whole room. "Try shootin' me, fuckers." he says and then charges into the mob.


Fred pulled that drawstring tight, cinching the top of the bag about as closed as it was going to get what with as much as he had crammed in there. Lock boxes and other such debris litter the floor around him and what wouldn't fit, protruded from his pockets or the breast of his cover alls. Remy opend the door and now it was time for that last step of the plan.

Yup, last step! Everyone rusn the hell away an' they meet up later, rich as CEOs and free-er than politicians. That's the plan. That is indeed the plan… and then Cain starts headin' the wrong fuckin' way.

"Agh sheeit!" Fred utters beneath his breath. He scowled and sucked his teeth, shifting his shoulders beneath what should be a cumbersome load… Shit. Shit shit shit-

"Remy, we're fuckin' it all up! You g'on and get before stupid spreads."

An' that was it.

Moments later, a second figure streaming dullar bills from his pockets, sleeves, and just generally everywhere, a figure that was about as round as he was tall, a figure that wore the mask of the infamous Spider-Man bounded through the door after Cain, the mouth behind the mask hollarin' up a storm as he barreled toward one clump or another of the mafioso-so-sos.

Yes, it was the Menace of New York.



Fire support is good! Domino will happily take some friendly distractions. The problem with having easily concealed sidearms is that they don't hold a lot of rounds, just as soon as she dives into cover by the others she's hooking both of her pistols together and popping both of the mag releases at once. She may have practiced this move beforehand.

"Jeezus, it's gettin' mighty friendly out there…"

On the other hand, she's not seen Gambit's trick before. It's ..pretty damn inspiring. She's so focused on the cause and effect there that she almost forgets to rack the slides on her guns. And grab another wad of cash. (This right here could last her for MONTHS!)

With Cain's challenge she calls back "Hey, now! We can't all imitate battleships on legs, buddy!" Then when he mocks the others Domino rolls her eyes then snaps an arm out to shoot Cain in the back. ..Playfully. Just because. He probably won't even notice it.

Right, to the grate in the floor! Uhm..is Fred gonna fit through that..? Nevermind! He's found his own way out. Dom drops her face against the side of one of her guns and -groans-…

Then she grabs one more wad of cash before jumping down the grate after Remy.


Cain provided the bulk and shield for the people to make their escape into the safe room. Bullets will not penetrate that room; there was a steady air supply which was soon filled with smoke from the explosion just a room over. They were still safe, the air was still clean after that initial burst. So there was no loss of innocent life..

Though the manager of the bank won't be able to create much in the future..

Carrying on, the mobsters begin to pile the bullets into the bank, a few remnants of metal pinging back and catching one of their friends in the throat.

'Oh shit! Someones firing back!'
'The block is getting hot!'

While Raven exchanges gunfire with the few who aimed towards her, she just has to stop and look. Her hand lifts to press against her nose to rub, her head shaking as she finally drops her weapons to call down towards the wrecking ball, two-man crew of Fred and Cain.

"You -STUPID- -MUTHERFUCKERS-!" Yes. It was a Christian Bale inspired rant, complete with flailing arms.



For some odd reason, no, the reason wasn't odd. Cain barreling through the mob actually sent a body flying into the wall, in which a shoe was kicked up that whizzed by her head like a bullet. Raven, for all intents and purposes, was just done. Her face wrinkles, her hands lift to the air as if signaling for a white flag. Yup. Over. That's it. T'was a mess.

She steps back out of harms way to fish out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, patting herself down as she looks around for a crate to sit upon, a lean back was created as she lights the end and just stares into the sky.

Great cigarette. Oh.. and here comes the cops.



As Domino falls, her good fortune finds her in the waiting arms of Remy Le Beau. "Real happy it was you and not one of de boys, chere." As he sets her down he reaches into his pocket and pulls out of a wad of cash. No, that's not it. He does it again, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, "Victory smoke, love? Come on dis way, I know de way out. Ole Swamp Rat can smell his way out of of a place like dis, sho nuff."


Cain thrashes the mob in relatively short order, scattering them casually about, those that don't go back into Fred instead. "Sorry, but I ain't much for cuttin' and runnin'. You can have all the sneakin' you like, but I like to make a statement," he says.

He starts to lope, jogging towards the front door and the cops gathering outside, "Go out the back, the lot of ya. I got these coppers taken care of," he says, tucking his chin and laying his head forward as he turns himself into a freight train battering ram aimed straight out the front door.


"Stupid g'damned muscle-headed-" Fred cursed and swore at Cain through every head he caved in, sassed with every spine he broke or twisted, fumed with every bone he crushed to powder. He could have been that lead weight that dropped down on Remy first and then the cushy landing that Domino found second…

But he could not bear the thought of being shown up by the man. Even so, now it cost him. Bullets poked and prodded at him like insistant fingers, making holes in his clothes, holes in the contents of his clothes, but not holes in him.

And then… from on high, Raven railed.

"Aw fuck this for a game a'grab ass." he almost visably shrunk under her cut-short diatribe. Abouting his face, he hustled on back right and proper, making sure to toss this or that infront of the ruined door way to prolong the ingress of armed forces, legal or otherwise before he himself came …

Legs dangled in mid air, kicking wildly, feet treading against nothing but empty air.

"Gahdamnit Cain…" he blamed the mane even as he dug into the framing of what once was the vent and broke it away, finally allowing him to drop through the widend hole.



Blue eyes are soon staring at peculiar red eyes. "Yeah..you and me both," Domino replies while getting back to her feet. "Nice work back there."

When the designated thief of the crew starts digging around for his cigarettes she smirks and says "You had me with the money. Could buy a whole lotta booze with that."

Oh, and -there's- Fred! She about jumps out of her skin when the rotund heister gracelessly flops down uncomfortably close to where they're standing.

A pale hand reaches out to lightly hit Gambit's shoulder, pistol and all, then she motions onward with a nod. "Lead on. I'm more than ready to get the hell outta here. C'mon, Spider-Fred."


Spider-Fred. Spider-Fred
No-Good, Surly Spider-Fred
Good and fat, Not real nice.
Drinks a ton, loves french fries.
Look Out!
Here comes Spider-Fred!


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