Chapter Text
Rictor loaded up the nondescript Jeep he drove for what he hoped would be a quick job. It was just an elimination. No retrieval, none of the struggle to drag someone back kicking and screaming to X Force. Just a jaunt to the last city Shatterstar had been spotted at. A shot to the head and he would be golden and able to collect his money and head back to his small apartment on the outskirts of town. It was a good gig.
He checked his luggage. A sniper rifle, a few changes of clothing, a lightweight, bulletproof vest, ammunition, and snacks. He carried on his person garotte wire, a handgun, and a knife, as well as a phone and wallet. He was set to go on his mission. He got into his car and revved up the engine and drove off in the direction of the relatively small city of Pittsburgh. He turned the air condition on blast as it was a hot, sultry summer day, and turned on the radio. All garbage. He turned it back off.
As he drove, he replayed in his mind his mission briefing. It had been just that: brief. Cable had warned him that his adversary was intelligent and powerful. According to gathered intel and eyewitnesses, Shatterstar had long, ginger hair and a star over his left, pure white eye. The other eye was blue-green. He was superhumanly strong, fast, and agile, hollow boned, capable of teleportation, and possessing of a minor healing factor and the ability to move his organs around. He used two double bladed swords, the report said. They were archaic weapons, but Rictor knew that his opponent was not to be underestimated. DNA found at the site of the fights indicated that he shared genetic information with Longshot and the mutant woman Dazzler, both former X Men, now one a professional singer, the other MIA.
The picture he had been shown to go off of was interesting, to say the least. Shatterstar was tall and lanky, with the build of a swimmer. He had long orangey-red hair with tan skin and a mullet. His left eye glowed a little bit. He wore mostly white and black. Rictor bet he would be able to locate him by virtue of hair, eye, and height. He loved it when his targets had noticeable traits.
Rictor zoned out for most of his drive until he hit the Fort Pitt tunnels. He had only driven to this location once, and it was chaos trying to get out of these tunnels. It consisted of a lot of swerving, merging, and horn honking. Today, Rictor did all three. When he finally got to the downtown area of the city, he parked his car in an overnight garage and walked with his bags to the hotel he was staying in.
He had to give it to Cable. The hotel he had picked out for him was not a half bad hotel to stay in. There was a spacious bed, a small fridge, a safe, and a bathtub/shower combo. Room service and a free breakfast was a nice touch as well. Fantastic. Obviously, someone in X Force had upped the budget for Rictor’s department.
He phoned to Cable. “I arrived safely in the city. Any word on his whereabouts, or should I just start questioning people and lying about being affiliated with the X Men to get the authorities to talk?”
“That won’t be necessary, kid. He was last seen near the big convention center downtown. DL Convention center. It’s big and white; you can’t miss it.” Cable’s gruff voice echoed over the phone. “Word has it that he was there only a few hours ago. No deaths, just walking around. One of ours has hacked most of the cameras in the city and put software in them to track anyone who matches his description and send information back to us. Especially targets people with his hair and eye combo. We’ve mislabeled a couple of gingers with face tattoos, but Shatterstar being a virtual giant helps out a bit.”
“Keep me updated. I’ll go take a look around before I eat dinner.” He hung up. The sun was starting to set, and Rictor wanted to find this guy as soon as possible and take him out. This was a reconnaissance mission, not a stakeout, so he left his rifle in the room, disassembled, in his safe. He threw on his street clothes, and he thanked his lucky stars that Pittsburgh was a city that tolerated guns fairly well, or that would make his job a little more difficult, as he always carried a gun on his person.
He walked from his hotel to the nearby convention center which was conveniently located down the street. It was crowded with people. There was obviously something going on there. The crowds would possibly make this very difficult. If Shatterstar was smart, he would hide within the crowd and hope that that would mask him from the camera scanner’s views.
He weighed his options. He could always find a way to get to the top of a building somewhere and scout the area below the center and see if he could pick out Shatterstar, but he did not have binoculars on him. He also could just go with the crowd and see if he could find Shatterstar that way. Or, if all else failed, he could look around the city for Shatterstar. He chose the second option. The crowd seemed like as likely a place as any, and perhaps Rictor could find food where they were going. Then he swore. There was no way he could get in there with a gun or knife. He’d have to go inside the center unarmed and rely on his mutant abilities and sheer luck to take out a guy who could swing around large swords like they were nothing. Great. Just great. Maybe he could find makeshift weapons in there or find someone to steal them from.
He ran back to the hotel and stashed the rest of his arsenal in the room, also in the now crowded safe, and then made a beeline for the convention center once more.
He pulled his dark hair into a messy bun behind his head and stood in line and waited to be let in. He still had no idea what it was for, or what was going on. People were wearing all sorts of clothing, and there seemed to be no theme for it. Rictor was just in jeans, boots, a maroon shirt, and a brown, leather jacket.
Once he finally made his way in and paid the man at the door, he just stood and stared. This was the worst luck he had had all day. It was a swordsmanship convention of all things. He didn’t even know there was such a thing. On the other hand, maybe he would find Shatterstar here shopping for more garish looking swords; who knows. He made his way to the walkway at the top of the center and stared down at the people in the large exhibition rooms. He picked out a few people who looked like they could fit Shatterstar’s description height and hair wise. It was as good a start as any.
A few hours later, he was heartily disappointed. None of his marks were the man he was looking for. They all were tall gingers, but none had the distinctive eye tattoo or the blue eyes he was searching out. He walked out of the center with no man but a single sword, bought from a lonely looking vendor who he had taken pity on.
“SHIT!” He yelled at the sky. He sat down on the ground outside the center and put his head in his hands. He knew this was not going to be easy, but he had so little to go on here. It had been a gamble to go into the center, and in turn, he had wasted the last of his daylight. He would have to resume his search in the morning the next day.
He stood up to walk back to the hotel and almost walked into a tall, blond man carrying a few decks of cards. “Oh! I’m so sorry, man!” Rictor put his hands up in apology.
The man stopped and gave Rictor a long stare, and at this moment, Rictor had an epiphany. He was looking at none other than Longshot himself. The pale blond hair, sideburns, and glowing golden eye were unmistakable. The cards added an almost comedic effect, given his mutant ability to influence luck. He was like Domino, only a very attractive man with psychometry and hollow bones. Rictor had worked with him a couple of times, the rare times X Force had teamed with the X Men, but he otherwise knew very little of the man. But what he did know was that Shatterstar was pursuing him and that he was Shatterstar’s father.
“You’re Rictor, right? The X Force bounty hunter?” He looked at him, curious. His accent was almost Australian. Rictor had never noticed that before.
“The one and only. And you’re Longshot? The luckiest X Men alive?”
“You’re looking right at him.” Longshot made a fake bow. “How can I help you?”
“Would you mind coming to my hotel room for a little bit? I think you can help me find something important.” Rictor hoped he would say yes and not take offense to the fact that Rictor was on a mission to kill his son.
“Is this about my offspring, Shatterstar?” Longshot suddenly grew more serious.
“Yes.” Rictor nodded. “Now will you come with me? You’ll be safer with me, anyhow.”
“So you know. You know he’s hunting me down. I’m not sure why my own son would resort to going after my old teammates to find me. Just calling me would work, but he seems to want my attention in the loudest way possible.”
“Who knows. Come on. There’s a bar in the hotel. I’ll buy you all the alcohol you want, and you can tell me where I can find your kid, or at least help me out. I’ve been hired to take him out. X Force wants him gone; he’s been causing too much trouble and becoming very violent against mutants in his quest.”
“He just won’t take ‘I don’t know’ for an answer.” Longshot shook his head sadly. “But let’s go.”
“Hold on, what do you mean by that?” Rictor started walking along the street, Longshot in his wake.
“He found me once and demanded that I come back with him to our planet of origin, and I told him that I didn’t know how to get there, and even if I did, I don’t know how to time travel. He became angry and accused me of not caring for our people back on Mojoworld, and he told me that no matter where I went he would follow me until I agreed to aid him. His heart is in the right place, I think at least, but he is dreadfully misguided in his efforts.” Longshot lost the careless gleam in his eyes and looked rather despondent.
“Mojoworld. That sounds familiar. You’re both from there?” Rictor and Longshot reached the hotel and entered the elevator, ascending to Rictor’s room.
“Correct. We are both former performers, forced to play for the joy of the dictator of the planet. But we escaped. But Shatterstar is dead set on saving his people from the dictatorial rule of Mojo V. I can’t say that I blame him, but I can say that it is a lost cause. The people have lost their fire and have little desire for a revolution.” He sat down on Rictor’s bed while Rictor called room service to bring them something to drink.
A few drinks later, Longshot was snoring, face first and backside up on the bed, leaving Rictor to fend for himself in the room. He gently moved the sleeping man to the corner of the bed, marveling at the alien physiology that made him so light. He curled up in bed and tried to fall asleep. He was struggling, however. He could not quit thinking about Shatterstar and his motives. It was not as if Shatterstar wanted money or power. He wanted liberation. Longshot was not in the wrong, however.
Longshot genuinely could not go to Shatterstar’s dimension, which, he had explained in between drinks, was 100 years in the future. He finally slept, dreaming of the moment when he could finish his job and give poor Longshot some peace.