Go Time

“What do you think?” Christian, Keith, Tobias, Gabriel, DJ, and Angel huddled in the shadows, scanning the entrance to the building. Guards with sub-machine guns were stationed at annoyingly regular intervals.

“We could do a Princess Bride with Keith on fire and DJ creating a voice illusion,” Tobias said.

DJ hummed thoughtfully. “I think you’d have a better chance of doing a Sebastien Foucan from Casino Royale up to that third floor mezzanine.”

“Gabriel’s here,” Keith said. “We could walk right past the guards and do a Boondock Saints ice the Russians up in the penthouse suite instead.”

“We do have rope,” Christian said.

“That was a stupid idea and a stupid movie,” Gabriel said. “If we’re going to go Hollywood, why not just have Angel go Carrie at the prom?”

The other five stared at him.

“Carrie?” Keith echoed. “Really?”

Gabriel fought to not blush. “What? He’s totally capable of it –”

“How about a little X-Men?” Tobias said. He curled his hand into a fist, and bone claws sprouted from his knuckles. Keith snapped his fingers, and flames appeared over his fingertips.

DJ sketched a rune, and then he had a solid sphere of ice ready for the throwing.

Christian rubbed his hands together, and blue-gold energy crackled. He scooped up a fallen pipe, and Gabriel saw it spark.

“So we’ve got Wolverine, Pyro, Iceman, and Gambit,” he said. Then he frowned. “Wait a minute, does that mean I’m Dr. X?”

“Pretty much,” DJ said. He peered over the hedge. “And Angel is Dr. Grey.”

Angel squawked. “Wait, I’m a bloody bird?”

“But Angel, you love the ladies.” Keith grinned, and he launched a fireball toward the guards. It was go time.

(286 words)