The Lady is a Tramp

by Trisha L. Sebastian



Summary: Cable ponders the mystery that is Domino

Disclaimer: So shoot me, I’m on a Frank Sinatra kick. Unlike the previous one (“September Skies”), this time the *title* comes from a Frank Sinatra song, and there are references to the Brian Setzer Orchestra song “Lady Luck”. The characters and situations mentioned herein are not mine, I’m just borrowing them. Ask before archiving unless you've got blanket permission, feedback often. So here’s Dom’s song inspired fic, and I have a feeling the rest of the X-Men and X-Auxiliaries are beating their way down my path for their own. Kassandra, would you care to get the refreshments ready? And the inhibitor collars?

She glides through the room like a cottonmouth snake through water.

I can see her give me an amused glance at that mental image. She knows as well as I do that we’d almost lost our lives that night. Not to gunfire or the ravings of a mad lunatic scientist. To a snake that we’d forgotten to eliminate when we made our base camp.

Heads turn as she goes by. I’m having difficulty keeping the interested male whimpers to a dull roar. She knows what effect she’s having on them. She moves with confidence, with surety. It’s all a part of the plan, she says.

She stops at a craps table, plinks down a couple bills and picks up her chips. To an observer, it would appear as if she was picking her point at random. Not caring what number it is, just that it’s there, she’s there and there’s money to be had.

Of course, that’s exactly what she’s doing.

It’s working. The excited crowd roars as she makes her point, then makes it again. A slender pale arm throws the dice, and they click-clack their way down the table. Seven again. Someone offers her a drink. Another guy pats her on the butt and gets a little too close for her comfort.

I see her tense at his touch, and I shake my head. Her eyes light up defiantly. She’s itching for a fight. This was your idea, I remind her, and she gives me the mental equivalent of a raspberry.

I watch her turn around, give the guy a steely smile and her hand darts down and grasps, hard. His jaw goes slack, and she gives him a little shake and I can see her lips moving. He doesn’t like the words she’s saying. His face has turned purple.

She lets go, abruptly, and the poor fellow staggers away. The crowd surrounding her hasn’t noticed this little exchange. However, I distinctly see the shadow of muscled men moving in the background. They’ve been watching her streak of “luck”. They have their suspicions.

Which is fine, because that’s exactly what she wants them to do. They weave their way expertly through the crowd, elbowing people aside as if they weren’t even there. They reach her, tap her on the shoulder. She turns, a smile on her lips an innocent look on her face. It takes all the control I have not to burst out into laughter. She goes with them to the security room which contains the closest conduit to the tunnel we’d marked weeks ago.

Ironically, there are no cameras in the security room. We’d marked this, too. So it’s only through the dim hum of the mental link that I know she’s knocked out the guards, tied them up, blindfolded them and is ready to proceed with the second phase. She darts in, leaves the information I need in my brain and darts out again.

Like a snake through water.

I make my move, reaching her at the rendezvous point with time to spare. What took you so long, old man, she mocks. She’s changed out of her slinky black dress into her standard gear. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Together, we make our way to the lower levels.

Tonight we work, destroying research that would harm the future of mutants and humans everywhere. We work as a team, forged together from years of partnership. I trust her with my life, and she trusts me with hers.

We wouldn’t have it any other way.


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