xmen_firstkink

erik is a moody private detective and charles seeks his help to find his missing sister raven (or the other way around, idk). there are fedoras and trenchcoats and suspenders and gun holsters and rainy nights and monotone first-person narration and blinds and private office doors and furious smoking and dangerously beautiful female singers all around. also maybe mobsters.
fit in as many of the kids as possible/plausible (also other characters, emma, azazel, etc).

{bonus if: 30s/40s slang words are used (dame, gams, dough, etc [these lists might help: http://www.paper-dragon.com/1939/slang.html // http://www.miskatonic.org/slang.html ])}

these gifs can serve as inspiration:
http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lngn0ch2fT1qdhps7o1_500.gif
http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lngvmrLiTi1qdhps7o1_500.gif

Who is prompting this?
Who is my new bff?

This prompt is <333

I... I... I... I...

GODDAMMIT I'm working on like five different things right now and I PROMISED MYSELF I wouldn't start something else because when I do I end up stressed out like crazy and going nuts trying to update everything at the same time but FUCK IT this is too good to ignore. I'll risk the inevitable descent into madness. I HAVE TO WRITE THIS.

THIS FUCKING MEME IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME.

YESSSSSSS YOU'RE WRITING THIS \o/

I mean, don't stress out bb! Relax and have fun with your fills, you've been doing a great job, the prompt and all of us will be waiting right here to read :) *hug*

Despite the title, I've made this a powerless AU. The pun was just too good to pass up.

The minute he walked in my door, I knew he was trouble. I had seen him through the frosted glass of my door, the lines of his body broken up by the Venitian blinds on my windows, but his silhouette didn’t do him justice. He lounged against my desk, sipping the scotch I had poured him and watching me from under his eyelashes. He was short and slim, with dark brown hair that flopped over his forehead and big blue eyes like a broad. He leaned over my desk, swaying his hips seductively under his suede trench coat.

“I don’t come to this part of town often, Mr. Lensherr, but a friend told me that you’re the best gumshoe in the city.” His voice was cultured and smooth, his British accent giving away his upper crust origins. He’d probably never been south of Fifth Avenue, if the cut of his suit was anything to go by. I fingered the sharp edges of the business card he’d handed me as he came in.

“I prefer the term ‘freelance detective’, Mr. Xavier.” I said coolly, re-filling my drink from the half-empty bottle of Jack on my desk. “But your friend is right. If you’ve got a problem, I can solve it. So what is it?” The glass was cool against my lips as I gulped down my hooch, the ice cubes rattling against the sides. “Somebody trying to chisel you out of the family fortune? Get caught with your pants down and now the butler’s trying to bleed you?”

“Nothing so unsavory, detective. I’ve got a reputation to uphold; I’m very careful about my actions.” He smiled thinly, his cherry red lips looking sweeter than my grandmother’s schnitzel. “Unfortunately, my sister isn’t quite so concerned with our family’s good name.”

“I see.” I had heard the Xavier name before- who hadn’t, in this town- and I finally connected the name to the rumors. “Raven, isn’t that the kitten?”

Xavier nodded grimly. “You’ve heard of her exploits, then. My sister and I have always been very close, since we were children, but lately she’s been getting funny. She goes out with men I don’t know, she’s started drinking hard liquor, and she’s cut her hair in a bob- you know, like all the girls are doing these days.” He sat down in the leather chair I put out for clients, swirling the scotch around in his glass contemplatively. “I’m not a closed-minded man, Mr. Lensherr, I know that I can’t hold onto my baby sister forever. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry about her.”

I was getting bored. “I don’t need your life story, Mr. Xavier. What do you want from me?”

He polished off his drink, loosening his tie as he held it out to be refilled. I was more than happy to oblige, the sight of his milky throat one Hell of an incentive to get him loose. “I’ll cut to the chase. Raven’s fallen in with a man I don’t trust, the sort of guy that makes your skin crawl. You know the type.”

I did. Half of them were my informants and the other half caused me internal bleeding on a daily basis.

“She thinks he’s the bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas. She’s only twenty-two; she can’t tell a saint from a sinner, but I can. I’ve seen this bum, spent time in a room with him, and I don’t trust him an inch. I sure as syrup don’t trust him with my sister. And now he’s come to my step-father and asked to marry her.”

“My condolences, but I don’t see where I come in.”

“I’m good at reading people, but all I’ve got to go on that he’s a skid rogue is my gut feeling. If I’m going to sink this punk, I need some good wire on him.” He finished his drink in one gulp, his eyes meeting mine over the rim, narrowed and steely. “And I want him to go down deeper than the Titanic.”

Xavier was pretty damn serious. He may have looked like a daisy, but he projected power like a man twice his size. He reminded me of a tommy-gun, hiding lead underneath a shiny smooth exterior. “You seem pretty set on getting rid of this guy. Are you sure you aren’t just being over-protective of your sis?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He laughed ruefully. “If you’d seen this guy, you’d understand. As it is, you’ll get it the moment you start tailing him. He’s a heel.”

“You seem pretty sure I’m gonna take your case. What makes you think I want your business?” I was bluffing. I hadn’t had a case in weeks, and he’d just drank the last of my scotch. But sometimes you gotta play hard to get.

“Because I’m willing to pay as much as it takes, Mr. Lensherr. No sum is too high. I’m sure you know that my fortune is pretty much endless, and I’ll do anything to see my sister safe and away from danger. She deserves better than Sebastian Shaw.”

My blood ran cold in my veins, cold as the ice melting in the bottom of my glass. “What did you say his name was?”

Xavier watched me as he fixed his tie, starting to do up the buttons of his coat. “Sebastian Shaw.”

Anger flared up in my gut, mixing with a burst of excitement. This could be my chance. I dropped the empty bottle of Glenfiddich in my drawer and replaced it on my desk with Magda. She gleamed in the low light of the office, black and silver beside the scattered papers and pens. Xavier eyed her nervously.

“I take it that means you’re interested?”

“I’m more than interested.” I slipped Magda into my shoulder holster and shrugged on my coat, the heavy weight of the Beretta comforting against my skin. I pulled a cigarette from the packet on my desk, sheltering the flame of my lighter in my cupped hands and taking a drag as I grabbed my fedora from the rack by the door.

“I’m hired.”

MAGDA.

He named his gun Magda.

And Charles, being the ever so polite badass.

You won the universe with this, darling.

Waiting for more!

When I left the office, it was raining. It was always raining. I popped up my collar against the wind and headed off down the street. I hoped that the call I had made wouldn’t be in vain and than my contact would show up at the meeting place I had specified. I knew exactly where I was headed; I could make the walk there in my sleep. Not that you’d want to sleep in this neighborhood.

The Cerebro was a dive. That was putting it nicely-nicely. If The Cerebro was a huge stinking hunk of rotting cheese, then its clientele were swarming rats. It was dirty, it was hazy, it was a clip joint of the worst kind. The men were greaseballs and goons and the ladies were members of the oldest profession. The best liquor they had was bathtub gin left over from Prohibition, and you couldn’t move an inch without someone trying to steal your wallet or slip you a Mickey Finn.

The Cerebro was a hole. But it was my hole.

I walked up past the whores lounging on the steps and sitting legs-spread-wide on the curb. I was almost in the door when I felt a tug on my sleeve. I spun around, ready to punch out someone’s lights.

“Erik! You big lug, c’mere!” A tiny, pixie-like girl in too much makeup grinned up at me, hands on her hips. She pulled me into a rib-crushing hug and then smoothed down the front of my coat, yanking me under the awning of the club. “Murder, I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

“Sorry Angel, I’ve been working like crazy. What’s the story?” Angel Salvadore was my right hand babe, a lady-of-the-night with a heart of gold and a kick like an ox. She had been my eyes and ears on the street ever since I first started up the flatfoot business, and we were as close as a private dick and an underage hooker could be without having been Biblical. She had offered once; I had bought her a sandwich and told her the only doll I got involved with was Magda.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, nothin’ much. Coupla girls got nailed by the coppers a few days ago, but Easy Joe says they aren’t gonna go to the big house. The arresting officer was that Cassidy clown, and everyone knows his sisters work in the Ice Queen’s Brothel. It was a joke, but it got some Johns a bit wiggy. Business has been slow.”

“Sorry to hear that, dollface. You need some extra green? I can lend you a couple if you’re hard up.”

“You’re not gonna chisel me, Shylock.” She teased. “I know all about you Yids.”

I snorted, knowing for a fact that Angel’s father was a member of the local synagogue. “Hypocritical as well as greedy? That’s a Hell of a stereotype we’ve got going there.”

She punched me lightly on the arm. “Baruch adenoi go fuck yourself, Lensherr. Just for that, you’re not invited to the seder next month.”

“You wound me, doll. You really do.” I offered her a cigarette, which she took gratefully. She leaned forward to let me light it, blowing smoke into the rainy night. “Look, I gotta talk to a guy about a thing. Will you be okay if I go inside?”

“’Course I will be. Stop acting like my daddy.” She waved me away, smiling around the snipe. “I’ll see you around, gumshoe.”

I headed inside, bracing myself for the sight of a bunch of pills having a ring-a-ding-ding on rot gut and cheap whiskey. The air inside The Cerebro was choked with smoke and the smell of sticky, spilt alcohol and sweat. I slid into the bar, settling onto the cracked leather seats and double checking that my wallet was still where it was supposed to be before shoving a crumpled bill at the bartender and ordering a glass of whatever cost the least. I took a sip of the lukewarm American beer that he dropped in front of me and grimaced. I missed Bitburger.

“Well well well, Mr. Lensherr. Right on time, as always.” A voice growled in my ear. I turned around slowly, smirking at the woman leaning on the bar beside me. She scowled. At a glance you could see she was uncomfortable in the atmosphere of The Cerebro: She was the only woman who wasn’t dressed like a prostitute. The prime reason for that being that she wasn’t.

“Detective MacTaggart. How pleasant to see you again. I’m so glad you decided to come.” I smiled at my ex-partner. Moira was the only elbow on the force, and a damn fine cop. It had been a while since we last saw each other, and we hadn’t parted on the best of terms. To make a long story short, I had needed stitches. Lots of them.

“Cut the horse shit, Erik, you know I couldn’t leave you hanging.” She grabbed my beer, taking a swig and then making a face. “That is absolutely horrible.”

“You’re telling me. I paid for it.”

She sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I had to get out of bed to come here, Erik. I have to work on a murder case in the morning. This had better be good.”

“I need some information on Sebastian Shaw.”

Moira groaned. “Erik, not again.”

“It’s not like all the other times.”

“I’m not going to help you get revenge on Shaw. I’ve told you, I can deal with you doing this stupid private eye business, but I’m not going to let you become a vigilante. Not while I’m still a police officer.” She took another swill of my beer. “Jesus, Erik, I thought we were done with this.”

“It’s not for revenge, Moira, will you just listen to me? It’s for a case I’m working on, I swear on my mother’s grave.” Of all people, Moira knew how much that meant. She looked up at me and knew that I was serious.

“Shit. All right, fine. What do you need?”

“I hear he’s running with a new dame. Know anything about it?” I exhaled smoke into the air, holding the dwindling remains of my cigarette between my thumb and forefinger. Moira shrugged.

“That’s not exactly my department, Erik. I’m working homicide now, not vice, so I haven’t been paying much attention to Shaw these days.” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a leather-gloved finger pointed straight at my face. “I’m not finished. Just because I’m not obsessed like you doesn’t mean I’ve completely stopped keeping an eye on him. He’s been taking out Raven Xavier, and he’s given her some ice that would put the Queen to shame. She’s ecstatic.”

“How do you know?”

She gave me a sheepish look. “I’m friends with her brother. He’s spent the past few weeks seething about it. They’re close, you know.”

I turned my fingers into quotation marks. “Close like a brother and sister should be or close like…?”

Moira slapped my hands down, disgusted. “No, Jesus, it’s not like that. He’s just overprotective of her. She’s a good kid, she’s just fallen in with the wrong crowd.”

Was it you that recommended me to him?” I asked. Moira cocked an eyebrow.

“No. He’s hired you?”

“Just to tail them. He wants to get some dirt on Shaw, force him to break him up with his sister.”

“A noble pursuit.” Moira reached for the beer, then shook her head and ordered a gin and tonic. I paid. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t have evidence of his little activities right there in your office.”

I scowled. “You know how slippery Shaw is. If I’d had anything on him, I wouldn’t be spending my evenings photographing cheating wives, would I?”

“Good point.” Moira polished off her drink and clapped a hand on my shoulder, smiling ruefully. “I’ve gotta go, Erik. Big day in the morning.”

“What case are you working on?”

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you.” There was a moment of silence before she rolled her eyes. “Missing persons case. We’re looking for Kitty Pride, a waitress from the heights. She disappeared from work one night and no one’s seen her since; it’s like she just walked through the wall and was gone. There’s suspicion that she’s been murdered by her boyfriend, but until he gives us something we’re stuck interrogating him.” She sighed. “Logan’s leading the investigation, and you know how he can get.”

I winced. “I’d hate to be the suspect.”

She nodded. “It doesn’t sit well with Armando at all, but he’s a fast learner. Soon he’ll be as good a cop as you were.”

I frowned at the mention of her new partner: my replacement. I had known Armando when he first started as a beat cop, and he was a good kid, but I couldn’t help but feel jealous that he had my old job. I took a gulp of the awful American beer, and if possible it tasted more bitter than ever.

Moira stood up, pulling her coat tighter around her and smiling sadly. “I’ll see you around, Erik. Take care of yourself, okay?”

I watched her retreating form as she vanished in the haze of the bar, heading towards the door. Regret spiked sharp through my brain, and I left without finishing my drink, flicking the butt of my cigarette to the ground as I made my way out the door.

I keep having to cut this into parts because it exceeds the character limit. Dammit, LiveJournal. Stop being annoying.

It was still raining, and water dripped off the brim of my hat. The streets were nearly empty this time of night, far away from the flickering neon signs that led into the more populated parts of town. Aside from the occasional hooker or alley cat, I was alone on my walk.

Or so I thought.

I should have seen it coming, in retrospect, but it all happened pretty fast. One second I was striding down the street and the next I had hit the pavement. The wind was knocked right out of me and I gasped for air as a shiny-shoed foot came down on my chest. I looked up at my attacker, looming above me, but with the streetlight behind him his face was more shadowy than a Caravaggio painting. He ground his heel down on my sternum and bent low until I could feel his breath hot on my face.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Raven Xavier.” He growled in a heavy Russian accent. “And Sebastian Shaw.”

“Give me one good reason.”

He gave me six. His foot slammed into my side like a jackhammer, pounding against my ribs harder than tenth grade calculus. One-two-three, I heard something crack. He kicked my chin, forcing my head up and my jaws together with a loud clack and a rattle of teeth. Four-five-six, he punched me in the stomach, brass knuckles cold through my shirt.

He kicked me again for good measure and then stopped. When I glanced up, my head pounding and my vision fuzzy, he had disappeared as quickly as he had shown up in the first place. If not for the blood staining my jacket, you would never have known he had been there.

I hauled myself up using a fire hydrant for balance. Blinking until the world stopped spinning. When I spat, it was red against the grey sidewalk and washed away almost instantly in the rain. I reached into my mouth and wiggled one of my teeth, thanking my lucky stars it had only been loosened and not kicked out. I’ve had a lot of compliments on my teeth: people say they’re intimidating. The Polish Shark would be a lot less impressive with a gap in his grin.

I hurt like Hell, but I’d lived through worse. I moved forward to my next stop of the night, albeit with a new limp and a new motivation. My attackers’ plan had backfired spectacularly- I was more interested in this case than ever. And I’d be damned if a few bruises and a little internal bleeding would stop me.

So, I finished "Dial M For Mutant". And I was very happy with it. Except...

I was sitting there at my computer, with Microsoft Word open to a blank document, and for some reason the only thing that was coming out was Erik Lensherr, Private Eye. Cutting to the chase: FUCK IT, I'M WRITING A SEQUEL.

I'm a masochist, clearly. Also the title is a reference to the movie "Angels With Dirty Faces," continuing the naming theme from last time.

---------------------------


The garage was empty, a quiet concrete space filled with a few cars in various states of dismemberment. A long-limbed man was lounging in an aluminum chair under the awning of the building, smoke drifting around him like a personal cloud. He glanced up as I approached, squinting up at me from under his baseball cap and blinking slowly, languidly, in the mid-day sun. He looked like a scarecrow that had come to life and then decided to spend all day smoking gage.

“You need gas?” He drawled, pulling back his cap to scratch at his hairline. I nodded. He looked me up and down, taking in my dark gray suit and fedora with a raised eyebrow and glancing behind me. “That your car?”

“Yes.” I held back a wince as he whistled shrilly, getting to his feet with the unhurried, leisurely movements of a lizard.

“Damn, she’s a real dish.” He said appreciatively, running a hand over the hood. “Must’ve cost you a pretty penny.”

I shrugged, remembering the dealership I had pinched it from back in Massachusetts. “I got a pretty sweet deal, actually.”

“I’ll bet.” The mechanic grinned. “How much gas you need?”

“Just fill her up.”

I leaned against the trunk as the mechanic retreated into the cool dark of the garage, returning a few seconds later with a greasy rag and a red plastic container. The city shimmered in the distance, undulating in my vision like it was underwater. The heat coming off of the asphalt turned everything into a mirage, and I felt sweat on my brow that had nothing to do with the dark fabric of my suit. Inhaling deeply, I tried not to breath in the heady, sickening scent of fuel that pervaded the air, tried to relax. The last time I had seen the city-my city, but not anymore- I had been driving in the opposite direction.

It had been a long time.

“Hey. Buddy.” I turned around to see the mechanic offering me a drooping deck of Luckies fished out of the breast pocket of his overalls. “Wanna smoke?”

I eyed the puddles of gasoline on the ground warily. “No thanks.”

“Your loss.” He stuck one in his mouth and returned the pack to its denim hiding place, wiping his hands on the rag. “That’s your car all done. Anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. How much for that?”

“It’s ten cents a gallon.”

I did the calculations in my head and pulled out my wallet, digging around to find the cash I owed him. He jerked his head down the road, patting the car’s fender.

“You headin’ to the city?” He asked. I nodded, still rifling through my greenbacks for exact change. “Is it your first time visiting?”

“No.” I handed him the payment, shaking my head. “I’ve been traveling, and I’m coming back.”

The mechanic clapped me on the shoulder. “Good for you, pal. Been away long?”

“Yeah.” I got into my car. He tapped on the window and I rolled it down, starting to get frustrated. “What? Did I count my nickels wrong?”

“No, you’re good, I was just wondering…” He pointed at me thoughtfully. “I could swear I’d seen you before.”

I felt my body tense. “No. I don’t think we’ve met.”

He frowned. “What’s your name?”

“Max Eisenhardt.” The alias slipped off my tongue seamlessly. I had a lot of time to practice- it was my third fake name in as many years. “What’s yours?” I asked, trying to direct the conversation away from myself.

“Oh.” He grinned and thrust a greasy hand through the open window. I shook it tentatively. “I’m Sam Guthrie.”

“Well, Sam,” I tried my best to make my smile look apologetic, but it probably came out as threatening. “I just have one of those faces. I don’t think we know each other. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Have a safe trip back home.” His attention had drifted off again. The cigarette he had offered me still lay unlit between his lips.

“Thank you.” I said, revving my engine. “I will.”

For some reason I had thought that the city would welcome me back, embracing me like a faithful lover. Instead, it reacted more like a scorned dame.

I swore, glaring out the windows at the unfamiliar street. The car inched along, wheels moving slowly as I craned my head to read the green rectangular signs, trying to figure out where I was. Did the place change while I was gone, or had I just forgotten my way around? It was hard to tell. Side alleys seemed to have popped up where none had been before, storefronts had disappeared and switched around, street names had changed- it was a nightmare to navigate. I toyed with the idea of ditching the car and just finding my way on foot. After all, my suitcase wasn’t very heavy, the only objects inside being the same rotating set of clothes I had worn since I left and the photo of my mother tucked inside a copy of The Metamorphosis.

I parked by the sidewalk and got out, pulling my suitcase out of the back seat. I hailed down a man in a business suit.

“Hey, you. Want a new car?”

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. “That depends. How much are you asking for it?”

I shrugged. “However much you feel comfortable with. I have to get rid of it quickly, the ball and chain doesn’t like it.” I glanced back at the car. My ex-wife, Magda, actually probably would have loved it, all sleek black lines and style. It wasn’t my taste in vehicles that she’d been opposed to; it had just been me in general. “It’s brand new, tank full of gas, the works.”

“How’s a Jackson?” The businessman waved a twenty-dollar bill in front of my face. I nodded hastily.

“That’s keen. Here are the keys.” We exchanged and I headed off down the road, bag in hand and coat thrown over my arm. I squinted up at the street signs, trying to re-orient myself. There were detours, intersections, whole roads that had been built, destroyed, re-routed. Some of the streets had different names. Who the fuck does that? I wondered for a second if I was even in the right city.

I slogged along the sidewalk, trying to find something I recognized. The longer I walked the heavier my suitcase seemed to become, the hotter I seemed to get in my coat. It was wool, and though we were well into September, the heat wave that had turned August into a hotbox all over the country hadn’t broken yet. Some men on the streets were in shirtsleeves and vests and women sat on their front steps, fanning themselves lazily with folded-up papers.

It got hotter as I moved into Chinatown, the air sweltering and heavy with steam that billowed out of open door and windows, carrying the overpowering scent of crispy fucks revolving on rotisseries. I passed people arguing with street vendors, a skinny dog gnawing on a bone. This was better- I recognized where I was now. The alleys and corners of Chinatown were unchanged, and the more time I spent taking in the familiar sights the calmer I felt myself become.

I sat down on the sidewalk, shrugging off my coat. A few feet away, a little girl in a bright yellow dress was jumping rope, muttering a rhyme under her breath. The look of concentration on her face was so focused and serious that I couldn’t help but smile. She faltered and tripped over the rope as she caught my eye and smiled back.

“Ni hao ma.” I said, the extent of my limited Chinese. The girl giggled.

“Your accent is terrible.” She held out a hand.

I shook it. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

She cocked her head to one side exaggeratedly. “Aren’t you hot?”

“Very.” I tugged at my tie and undid my top button. “Crazy weather, huh?”

“Mm hm.” She nodded, her black pigtails bobbing. “My grandma says it hasn’t been this bad since she was a kid.”

“Grandma?”

She jerked her thumb up at the apartment building behind her, “My grandmother. I live with her because my mom couldn’t be bothered to take care of me and my dad ran away before I was born.”

I blinked. “You’re awfully grown up.”

“I’m eight, not stupid.” She grinned. “I’m Jubilation lee, by the way, but you can call me Jubilee. My grandmother says that means a really big party. Parties are great.”

I tipped my hat. “I’m…” I hesitated for a second. It couldn’t be too dangerous to tell and eight year-old girl my real name. “I’m Erik.”

A man in a shabby suit jogged up to us, waving wildly. His slicked black hair flopped out of place over his glistening forehead and he smiled as Jubilee warmly. She waved back.

“Good morning, Dr. Wong!”

He adjusted his glasses, out of breath. “Hello, Jubilation. Is your grandmother in?”

“Uh huh.” She leaned forward conspiratorially and hissed in a stage whisper, “Her arthritis is bothering her today.”

Dr. Wong nodded sagely. “That’s probably the humidity getting to her joints.” He glanced up at me. “Hi. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

I shook my head. “I’m just passing through. Jubilee and I were discussing the weather.”

He let out a chuckle. “Yet another innocent bystander ensnared by Jubilee’s big mouth. Good luck with that.”

“Hey!” She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. ‘I don’t talk that much.””

“Mei mei, you could talk the ear off an elephant.” Wong patted her head fondly. “Anyway, your grandmother is expecting me. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The small girl nodded. “Okay.”

Wong reached over to shake my hand. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Jubilee tugged at my elbow as Wong made in way up the steps. “Where are you from?”

“Around.” She raised her eyebrows incredulously. “I used to live downtown but I had to go away fro a while.”

“How long?”

“Three years.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s like forever.”

I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

She sat down beside me. Across the street, a green car was idling, smoke spilling out the exhaust pipe. “Are you happy to be home?”

“I suppose.” I thought wistfully about how much I missed my old apartment. The hotel rooms I had been staying in as I traveled from town to town, city-to-city had all started to blend together after a while, and I had almost forgotten what my old room looked like. The apartment probably had new owners now; my lease had been about toe expire when I jumped town. “I missed it here, you know? But it’s changed a lot since I left.”

“Grandmother says the city never stops moving. It doesn’t wait for people.”

I nodded. “Your grandmother is a smart woman.”

As if on cue the front door opened and Dr. Wong came out, followed by a stooped old woman. She nodded to him warmly, smiling. “Xie xie, Dr. Wong.”

“It’s not problem, Mrs. Lee. Just make sure to keep pressure off your knees, alright?”

“Of course.” She caught sight of her granddaughter. “Jubilation, sweetheart, come in! It’s almost lunchtime.”

I probably should have mention earlier- this is gonna be long. Really long. Oops.

Jubilee leapt to her feet. I looked up, glancing around as I dusted off my suit.

Suddenly a flash caught my eye. I squinted at the car across the street and froze as I saw the silver barrel of a machine gun poking out of the open window.

“Get down!” I shouted, launching myself towards Jubilee. I knocked her to the ground, covering her small body with mine just as the bullets began to fly.

Dr. Wong and Mrs. Lee didn’t even have time to scream. I could hear the rat-a-tat-tat oas the Tommy gun spat lead from it’s hiding place, the soft sucking sounds of bullets meeting flesh, the crash of broken windows. Shards of shattered glass rained down on my back. There was the roar of the car’s engine as it sped away, and then silence.

Well, except for the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I lay on the sidewalk, my limbs wrapped protectively around Jubilee. My ears were still ringing with the boom of the gunshots, but I raised my head to look down at the little girl. “Are you alright?” I panted.

She nodded slowly as she lifted her hand fro the ground, her palm and fingers stained red by the stream of blood running down the incline of the sidewalk. I glanced up at the mangled bodies of Dr. Wong and Mrs. Lee and pulled her to my chest in a hug so that she wouldn’t see.

“It’s going to be okay, Jubilee.” I muttered uselessly. “It’s going to be okay.”

I heard a cut-off scream and looked up to see a skinny Asian dame with her hands clasped over her mouth. She had almost tripped over the bodies on the steps.

“Oh my God.” She chocked out, her voice cracking. A short man in a flannel shirt appeared behind her, his dark hair sticking up in all directions, and swore loudly as he caught sight of the corpses. My breath caught tin my throat as I recognized him and I ducked my head down, hoping to not be noticed.

“Jubilee!” The little girl’s head shot up as the broad ran towards her, her heels clicking a tattoo on the pavement. She scooped her out of my arms and hugged her tightly before giving her a once over “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.” Her voice was small, her eyes wide. “Are they dead?”

“Oh honey.” The woman embraced the girl again, stroking her disheveled hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“Betsy, I’m gonna phone this in to the station, get a squad car down here on cleanup. “A deep voice growled from above. “You should-” He paused suddenly and I winced. The game was up. “Lensherr? Is that you?”

I raised my chin sheepishly and met the other man’s eyes. “Hi, Logan. Long time no see.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, which was as close to a dropped jaw as he ever got. “No kidding.” He glanced at Jubilee In the woman- Betsy-‘s arms. “You get the kid out of the way?”

I nodded.

“Thanks.” Crouching down next to the two girls, he pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket. “Betsy, take these two inside. Keep ‘em upstairs until I come back.”

“Look, I can just leave…” I got to my feet.

“Bullshit. I don’t want any of the guys on the squad to see you; they’ll arrest you in a second. Go in and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to leave.” Catching sight of Betsy’s nervous frown, he shook his head. “He’s safe, Bets, don’t worry.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s-” her voice faltered as she glanced back at the bodies on the front step. “Let’s go in the back door.”

OMGGGGGGGG

SHAKING AND CRYING
SEQUEELLLLLLLLLLL

Oh Erik Lehnsherr, Private Eye, come here, I will embrace you like a loverrrr <3

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH AUTHOR!!

Betsy kept an eye on Jubilee as she grabbed some things from her bedroom. I lingered in the doorway of the Lee’s apartment, feeling awkward. Betsy produced a cigarette and a box of matches from one of the many pockets on her navy dress, offering me one. I took it gratefully.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” She said, dropping the extinguished match into the sink. She seemed at home in the Lee’s kitchen, and I guessed that she spent a lot of time there. “I’m Betsy Braddock.”

“Braddock?”

“My ex-husband was a gaijin.” She shrugged. “I guess I have a type.”

I blew a mouthful of smoke out, the nicotine in my lungs dulling the rush of adrenaline in my veins. “You’re dating Logan?”

She held out her hand, flashing a small diamond ring. “We’re engaged. Thank you for not assuming I was a hooker.”

I shrugged. “I like to think that Logan has slightly higher standards than that.” I squinted at her. “You’re not Chinese.”

“My parents were from Japan, came over before the war.” Sitting down on a stool at the counter, Betsy shot me an appraising look. “How do you know my fiancé?”

“We used to work together.”

“You’re a cop?”

“Used to be.”

She took a cool drag on her cigarette. “What are you now?”

“Private detective.” I said as Jubilee emerged from her room, carrying a packed suitcase behind her. Betsy stood up, taking the little girl’s hand.

“Do you have everything you need?”

She nodded. “Where am I going?”

“You can stay with me for a few days. Just until we track down your mom. Sound good?”

“Okay.” Jubilee said as she climbed the narrow staircase, squeezed between Betsy’s side and the railing. I followed them, my suitcase bumping against he wall.

Betsy’s apartment was small and smelled overpoweringly of cigars- Logan clearly spent a lot of time there. She opened a widow as Jubilee sat down on the couch, looking very small in her grimy yellow dress. We could hear the wail of a siren getting closer, loud and clear through the everyday hum of traffic.

“Can I get your something to drink?” Betsy asked gently, laying a hand on Jubilee’s shoulder “Water? Milk?”

“Water would be nice.”

She disappeared into eh kitchen. I tossed a throw pillow to the side and settled down next to Jubilee. The little girl looked up at me, brown eyes glassy. “I don’t know what to do.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders remembering how I’d felt when my mother died. “You’re probably in shock. It’s normal.”

“My grandmother is dead. Dr. Wong is dead.” She stared at me. “Should I be crying?”

I stared back. “I don’t know.”

Betsy returned from the kitchen, handing Jubilee a glass. She downed the water in one gulp as Betsy turned her attention to me. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I blinked. “I’m Erik. Erik Lensherr.”

Betsy’s eyes widened. “You’re Erik Lensherr?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have? Should I be worried?”

“Probably. Logan says hat there’s still a warrant out for your arrest.” A smirk crossed her face. “Is it true that you’re the one who dropped Sebastian Shaw?”

“That depends. Ask me again hen the warrant’s been revoked.” I stubbed out my cigarette in a tin ashtray on Betsy’s coffee table.

“Well if you did do it, I’d say thank you. That man was scum.” She glanced out the window for a second contemplatively. “Though I guess if you think indirectly, what just happened was sort of your fault…”

I did a double take, sputtering angrily. “Excuse me?”

And then the door banged open and the last person I wanted to see stomped into the room.

“What the HELL are you doing here?!” Moira McTaggart yelled, her hands on her hips.

The tense air between Charles and I was ebbing and flowing like the tide, leaving me wobbling and unsteady. One minute he couldn’t touch me enough, the next he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Every time I thought we were getting closer he would pull away and we’d go right back to where we were before. It was infinitely frustrating, all the more so because I knew in the back of my mind that Charles’ skittishness was my fault.

I trailed a few steps behind him as we walked the three blocks to Asteroid M, keeping my eyes fixed on the hunch of his shoulders under the old jacket. There wasn’t much of a crowd, most people solidly at work on a Friday before noon, but I didn’t want to risk losing sight of Charles for even a second. I felt as if I let my guard down even a little he would slip through my fingers. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Charles paused outside the small café’s window, freezing in mid-step. I followed his gaze through the fingerprint-smudged glass. Asteroid M had started gathering the lunch crowd, and there were a few diners eating at the scattered tables. I looked past them, catching sight of a girl sitting at the counter. Her back was to us, but the blonde ringlets cascading down her back were instantly recognizable, even though the last time I had seen her the distinctive hair had been snipped into a short bob. I could feel Charles tense beside me, and I nudged him gently with a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Now or never.” I muttered. He stared at her, his face a nervous mask.

“This is a bad idea. I should have never come.” He looked up at me. “What if she just wants to tell me what a horrible person I am? What if Kurt put her up to it?”

“What if she’s actually in trouble?” I countered. “She’s your sister, Charles. You can’t back out and leave her on her own, she needs you.”

That struck a chord. Charles’ blue eyes flashed and he nodded once, short and sharp, before looking away from me and pushing the door open. The bell rang hollowly in the café, which was silent save for the steady drip of a percolating pot of coffee. Raven glanced up from her lap, her eyes meeting Charles’ as he stood in the doorway awkwardly. Her mouth opened and shut, her hands fluttering up from where they had been resting on her stomach to land flat on the counter. Beside me, Charles looked ready to bolt.

Raven launched off the swiveling stool and threw herself bodily at her brother, enveloping him in a tight hug. Charles let out a winded noise of surprise, stumbling back at the sudden weight of his sister.

“Oh my God, Charles!” She cried, burying her face in his shoulder. “I didn’t think you would come!”

He wrapped his arms around her cautiously. “Of course I came, Raven, don’t be ridiculous…” I raised one eyebrow and he glared at me over her shaking shoulder. “You’re my sister, I wouldn’t just- oh Raven, don’t cry, please…”

She pulled back, wiping her face on her long sleeve. She was wearing a heavy brown wool coat and a plain blue dress that seemed a bit too tight around the middle, as if she had gained weight. Her face had always been round though, even three years ago, so it was hard to tell if I was just imagining it. She sniffed, eyes puffy and rimmed with red, and moved to sit back down. Charles grabbed her elbow gently and shook his head, taking her purse in his free hand.

“No, we’ll sit somewhere more comfortable. Here, there’s a booth…”

I watched as Charles led his sister over to the corner of the restaurant, trailing behind them and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I settled in next to Charles as Raven sat down across from us, fiddling with the strap of her leather bag. Charles reached out and took her hand, stilling it under his own.

“Raven, you remember Erik Lensherr.” He said.

She nodded. “How could I forget?” Glancing down, she frowned. “What happened to your hand?”

Everyone’s gaze darted down to look at the sibling’s twined fingers. Charles’ hands were indeed an odd contrast to Raven’s- where her nails were buffed and manicured, his were bitten short and ragged, where her skin was smooth and unblemished his was spotted with scrapes and the painful beginnings of calluses. Instead of pulling away like I expected him to do, he squeezed her palm tightly, reassuringly.

“Nothing happened. I’m just still not used to hard work, yet. Would you know, washing dishes actually isn’t as easy as it looks?” He smiled hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to make jokes. To his relief (and mine), Raven laughed.

“Washing dishes? Are you working in a diner?” She teased.

The atmosphere seemed to grow lighter as Charles shook his head and half-grinned. “Hardly. I’m a photographer now.” He gestured to the camera around his neck. Raven reached out to touch it lightly, making sure that her stomach didn’t bump against the tabletop.

“You always did have an eye for art.”

He looked dubious and shrugged. “If you say so.”
Raven turned back to me, her hand still locked with Charles’ and her expression growing cooler and more closed off as she looked me over. “So, Erik.” She asked. “What brings you back to town?”

“Oh, you know. It’s easy for a man to get homesick in a world this big.”

Her lips thinned like she wanted to say something else, but she flitted her eyes back to Charles and nodded instead. “So my brother told you that I need help, then.”

“He did, yes.” In the background Alison, the waitress from earlier, popped her bubblegum and a police car drove by, its’ siren blaring, but everything seemed to have narrowed down to just the three of us sitting at that one little table.

“Can you help me?” Raven inquired.

“I helped Charles before. Found you, didn’t we?”

She huffed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, and you must know all about missing persons, huh?”

I didn’t overlook the contempt threaded through her voice but I willed myself not to be bothered by it. Charles frowned at her disapprovingly. “Raven!”

She broke eye contact with a sigh, holding up her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful; I’m just sort of emotional right now.

“I understand. Don’t apologize, it’s a valid criticism.” I toyed with a fork, the curved prongs smooth under my touch. The disassembled cutlery lay neatly on the table, the thin paper napkin missing. Alison hadn’t finished setting the table before we sat down and she looked rather spiteful, which was probably why she hadn’t come over yet with the menus. Either that or she recognized Charles and I from earlier and was avoiding us. My stomach growled, and I wished I hadn’t scared her away during breakfast.

I ignored my hunger and turned my attention back to Raven and Charles’ hushed conversation. The blonde shook her head.

“-I just didn’t know who to turn to.” She sounded tearful. “I’m all alone. I couldn’t go to the police because Azazel’s still technically wanted in association with Shaw. Kurt doesn’t even know that I was seeing Azazel. No one did! Well, except for Hank.”

“Hank?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Hank McCoy.” Raven clarified. “He’s a detective on the force.”

“You remember, Erik, he was working on the Shaw case with Moira.” Charles nudged my arm. “The one with the glasses.”

I did remember. “Wasn’t he just an officer?”

“He got a promotion about a year ago.” Raven sounded proud. “He’s very smart.”

“Okay, but what does he have to with anything?”

“He’s courting Raven.” Charles whispered approvingly. His sister flushed in embarrassment and squirmed in her seat.

“He’s not courting me, Charles, for Christ’s sake!” She hissed. “We’re just friend! And anyway, if there was any romance between us I certainly wouldn’t have been telling him about…” She made a vague hand gesture, “Azazel and I.”

“I’m still surprised about the existence of ‘Azazel and I’.” Charles said, bracketing his fingers. “I can’t say I approve. At all, actually.”

Raven groaned. “Don’t be like that.”

“I have every right to be ‘like that’!” Charles glowered. “You’re my baby sister, and I don’t particularly like the idea of you shacking up with a crook, especially one who held you captive for nearly a week and almost got Erik and I killed, may I remind you!”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you make it sound so illicit!”

“It WAS illicit! You’ve been sneaking around with this man- who might I add is at LEAST ten years older than you AND a wanted criminal- like some sort of love-struck teenager! For all I know he’s been climbing your balcony and hiding in the closet when the maids interrupt! You’re nearly twenty-four year old, you can’t act like a child anymore!”

“Then stop treating me like one!” Raven snapped, slamming her hand down on the table. Alison looked up from her glossy magazine and glared in our general direction. A few other diners glanced at us nervously before returning to their food. Raven’s face was flushed and screwed up in anger, her skin looking slightly blue under the pale artificial lights. “Goddammit, Charles, did you come here to lecture me or to help me? I came here because I need you, but if you’re not willing to even listen to me I’m going to walk out that door and find someone else!”

“He tried to kill us.” Charles argued, “He helped Shaw hold you captive. How can you say that you were in love with him?”

Raven held his gaze, her chin raised defensively. “People can change a lot, Charles.”

“Yes, I’d know.” He said bitterly, his voice rising in volume. “But it looks to me like you haven’t changed at all. You’re still wrapped up naively in your own little girl world!”

Raven opened her mouth like she was going to yell something back, but closed it soundlessly. They glared at each other without speaking, the music from the jukebox and the chatter of the diners around us bleeding in to fill the quiet. She stared straight at Charles, and when she spoke her voice was eerily calm and unwavering.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was a moment where no one said anything. The three of us sat there, Charles and I shocked into silence and Raven’s gaze locked with her brother’s. Then suddenly her carefully stoic face crumpled and her shoulders started to heave with deep, wracking sobs. Charles leapt up like the booth was on fire and slid in next to Raven, wrapping his arms around her shaking body and rocking her back and forth.

“Oh God.” He muttered into her hair as she cried against his chest. “Oh God, Raven, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never would have said those things, oh Raven, why didn’t you say…”

“It’s his.” She gasped. “It’s Azazel’s, Charles, and now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do!”

“We’ll find him.” Charles hugged her tightly, stroking her hair. For a second I caught a glimpse of the two siblings like they might have been years ago, as children, hiding in Charles’ room from an angry, drunk stepfather and a violent stepbrother. “I’m sorry, Raven, and I promise you we will find him.”

Hey, guys. I know I haven't updated in a while, and I'm very sorry for keeping you all waiting. I've decided to take a small break from Mutants With Dirty Faces, just for a little while. My life has been pretty hectic and I've been dealing with a lot of stress, and I think that I need to take some time off to get my head back in the game.

I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY. Know that. It's just going on hiatus for a bit. I promise I'll be back with more as soon as I can.

Thank you all for reading and commenting; you're the best :)

Hi! Just wondering if there is any possibility that you would continue this? I really enjoyed reading it.

Whoops, sorry I'm replying so late after you commented.
Unfortunately I kind of got distracted by life and, as such, will not be continuing the story. I'm glad you enjoyed it, though! Sorry for letting you down.