Rex kept his face carefully neutral as he continued to diagnose Father Lorenzo. It didn’t sound good. The man was getting up in years and a break like this would be a long time recovering from. Still, he did the best he could with the time and materials he had, getting the father comfortable without moving him.

When the ambulance and police arrived, Rex conferred with the paramedics on what he’d already done and gave a concise report of what he’d seen. Then he helped them load the father into the ambulance, but not before the father had grabbed Rex’s hand.

“They took my watch,” Lorenzo said, the pain of loss apparent in his gaze, moreso than even the break in his leg.

“You’ll get it back,” Rex said firmly and confidently.

Many things unspoken lay between them, but resolution was in both their eyes. Father Lorenzo nodded and the paramedics shut the doors of the ambulance.

Rex grimly returned to the auction and set about helping sort out the mess and chaos and salvaging what they could.

-----------

Later, once his duties were over, Rex stepped outside the building, shrugging into his peacoat, and stared off into the distance with a steely gaze before taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes.

“Father,” he prayed. “Lead me to the watch that was stolen from Father Lorenzo. Amen.”

Rex wasn’t one for longwinded prayers - he kept his short and sweet. It was enough. He felt a twinging in his feet and he began walking into the city, following his faith and hoping to reclaim the watch.

Devon was thankful the paramedics didn’t take long. Father Lorenzo hadn’t been able to stand, but he had a number of the church’s community with him, Rex included. Devon meanwhile attended to a few others upset, having anxiety attacks, or otherwise needing some minor medical care. He’d worked at Sanctuary for years, had his first aid training, handled metabots and natural disasters, and then traveled a bit putting himself in harm’s way. Still, he was no paramedic. Survival and healing are two different things…

The police wanted perspectives and Devon gave his, including Rex’s assistance and the good teenagers outside who’d herded the younger kids away. Devon was thankful to be newly returned to the city; the cops didn’t immediately recognize his name. That gave him a chance to help clean things up and get the auction hall back to a community function. It was good to see people sitting, eating and some members of the police staying but many returned to their homes.

Blue eyes didn’t miss Rex’s determination in that time. Devon kept his distance, didn’t bother the loner. But when Rex set out to leave, the atmokinetic took note.

…

A couple blocks later and they were headed toward a mixture of old restaurant and apartment buildings near Battery Park.

“On your left,” Devon’s light footsteps drew him up beside the former firefighter if but a step behind. Devon could only flit from rooftop to rooftop for so long before a danger situation was upon them. His own peacoat wrapped around him and a pair of dark sunglasses on his face. He turned his head to give a brief nod, and then turned back to look ahead and continue forward.

Rex walked in something like a reverie through the streets of New York City. His mind was focused on the task before him, even if he did not know where he was going or what he would find there. Every few minutes, his breath would plume in the air and he repeated his prayer and the feeling in his feet would return, carrying him ever onward.

He flinched as a voice broke him from his thoughts. It was the Devon man. His brow furrowed in confusion and surprise before quickly settling in a customary frown as the other man fell into step alongside him, unusually silent from what little Rex knew of him.

“Why are you following me?” he said a bit gruffly. It wasn’t particularly combative - Rex felt no need to bluster. In the streets of a rapidly darkening city in the coolness of winter, Rex was unusually calm, collected, determined. Nobody was going to interfere with his chosen path. Still, if this man was there to interfere, Rex wanted to know this so he could be dealt with swiftly.

Devon noted the flinch and the furrowed brow. The frown was by no means a surprise. The gruff questioning was a bit amusing, but Devon kept any smile from his face or his tone.

“I’d hope that was obvious,” he replied. “Whether mutant or magic, best to be vigilant as a team rather than a single vigilante,” he expressed further. “You called the heat down upon yourself rather quickly back there, and I respect the why. I endeavor to help. What’s your plan?”

Devon kept walking.

It was almost like this was a different man than the one who’d been all up in his business earlier in the afternoon. This man seemed focused, serious, and professional. Not invasive, intrusive. He seemed decent.

That is, until he mentioned magic. Rex’s frown increased. Of all things to mention, why was that one of them? Was he some fragmentary member of the Welldrinkers? Was this some long, twisted plan of retaliation after Rex’s action against the Welldrinkers alongside the X-Men?

Was this merely someone who was genuinely wanting to help? Rex considered the man. He’d certainly stepped up in the aftermath of the robbery, working to organize and settle people. It was possible he was acting completely in good faith.

Now the question became: did Rex extend his faith to trust the man, or did he keep him at arm’s distance?

They climbed up a flight of stairs and the warm feeling started to increase. “We’re almost there,” he said. “They stole a watch from the Father. It was a family heirloom and the last thing he got from his grandfather before he died. I intended to ask for it back.”

Then his feet stopped feeling flighty and the warmth felt complete.

“This is it.”

Devon registered Rex’s frown at the mention of magic. Well, that was it then. It wasn’t a mutant whispering power. It was magic, which meant anything was likely possible. A vigilante man of the church wasn’t so bad, but zealotry could be a problem. What was so bad with that calendar? At least it seemed he had the best of intentions, and considering Devon knew so little of the man other than what the parishioners had said of his helping… There was something else there, but clearly no one had wanted to mention it. It was no wonder they’d speak of the good in an emergency, of the man willing to speak up to the thugs who’d broken in.

Following up the stairs, Devon gave a nod that they were almost wherever they needed to be. Just how did he know? Maybe Rex had recognized them, but the call out back at the function hadn’t seemed personal. Coming here however? Very personal. A watch very important to the Father had been taken. Devon respected that. He gave another nod about the ask.

The stairs were a small stone set to a pair of double doors. Perhaps decades ago this warehouse storefront had been quaint for the time with colored brick and a nice sign. The brick was broken, dirty and the sign long ripped off. A ramp a few hundred feet down the street led to a large pull door, clearly a loading area. Maybe stone masonry or lumber had been sold here.

It didn’t sound like anyone was just beyond the doors. Opening them - each took a door - found the foyer had a stained sofa clearly rescued from the streets and a small circular table with mismatched chairs. Maybe someone sometimes took a break in here, but it was dirty and a little stale. More important were the voices coming from the open door to the right. The door to the left was closed.

“It was a good take-” came the voice of one of the two who’d stood with Father Lorenzo.

“Can trust the stupidity of people giving to the ****ing church,” laughed the gun-toter who’d guarded the door to the kids and who’d pointed it at Rex and then Devon.

“I already cashed the checks,” said another, voice androgynous.

“When? We only got here fifteen minutes ago!”

“With my computer. Online. Geez,” they replied.

“Better than expected, shoulda smashed a mouthy one,” the big guy sneered. There was a sound of a moving chair and then rustling material. Bags maybe. "Get countin'! We gotta pawn this shit too."

Devon had remained silent in the foyer as they listened, proceeding toward the door. He gestured to Rex who wished to ask nicely for the watch. Of course, Tempest didn’t expect the ask-nicely to work, nor for Rex to accept an answer of no. As he followed after Rex, darkness swam into his blue eyes currently hidden by his sunglasses.

Outside, clouds began to gather.

With a clenched jaw, Rex had made his way through the warehouse alongside Devon, who seemed to take neatly to the practice. Rex wasn’t necessarily an old hand at sneaking around, but in the last year or so, he’d found himself spending more and more time in the shadows.

That was where the light could do the most good.

Still, the ease with which Devon moved and acted, swiftly and quietly while always seeming to know exactly what he was doing in Rex’s inexpert eyes made Rex wonder who this man was. Not that it mattered.

The people who’d taken the watch were here.

Rex nodded at Devon and then brusquely walked over and hefted a wooden chair. It wasn’t held together well, but the wood itself was tough and solid. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips before his face settled into a grim mask.

Then he stomped into the room and hurled the chair across it until it smashed into splinter against the back wall.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said, “Where is the watch you took from the priest? I want it back. You have five seconds.”

Rex looked tense, angry. His attitude earlier had spoken volumes of where his head was at - and that was his demons were his alone to battle. Devon had been there. Lonely loners tended to not have much hope, felt they had to do everything on their own. It was a trust issue and one of disappointment. There was fear, there was depression…

But you had to make do, find a way. It seemed Rex was doing that with subtlety and stealth. They crept carefully through the entry area and Devon, very accustomed to this practice and also light on his feet, followed along with vigilant support. If nothing else, he wanted to be sure Rex was safe. They were just here for a watch, but Devon knew this was also something a bit more.

Then Rex picked up a chair, grinned with what Devon assumed was the first ounce of joy of Rex’s day, and barged into the back warehouse area while throwing the chair across the room.

So much for subtlety and stealth.

Devon kind of liked it though. Rex had come out of the kitchen early, made a non-violent declaration, and encouraged other choices. Well here now were those ramifications. He wasn’t quite sure what the muttering, smoldering man had up his sleeve but after the whispered message that somehow found his ear, Devon knew it was not likely a mutation. He also liked the clear declaration of need.

There were a few startled jumps, primarily the nonbinary individual who’d spoken of the computer and one of the two who’d been with Lorenzo. The big guy, the other ruffian who’d handled the Father, and the gun-toting foul mouth sneered. Hand guns were drawn fast while the big guy threw back the chair he was on.

“Oy, it’s the big talkers,” the strong man laughed. “All these watches are going to elsewhere,” he gestured to the fancy watches on the table that they’d poured out from their bags.

“Yeah **** face, maybe ya shoulda stayed in the kitchen!” the gun-toter from earlier warned.

“You were followed?” the computer nerd - well maybe but it’s easy to assign archetypes this way - asked with annoyance.

Outside, thunder boomed from a small distance overhead. “I’m sorry but that’s six seconds,” Devon frowned, shaking his head as he took a side step from Rex to put him but a few paces away.

The big guy charged with a roar toward Rex. The nonbinary nerd raced for an area behind some larger boxes. The gun-toter was aiming a semi-automatic at Rex while his partners in crime pointed pistols at Devon.

Rex clocked the position of the bag of jewelry and he set his jaw as the guns appeared. He stared at each person as they talked, not a single muscle moving except for a setting of his jaw as he prepared himself for the inevitable. Words were not his forte, but he’d had to try. Now he knew where the watch was.

“Close your eyes,” he said quickly to Devon, right before noticing the man moving to the side. That wasn’t good. Rex couldn’t shield him that far away. He’d have to trust that the man would be protected regardless.

Father, help us. Then the larger of the men started charging at Rex. Rex responded with more words.

“For the Lord God is a sun and shield,” he said quietly, but fiercely. His left forearm came up and a circular shield of solid fire and blazing light burst into existence in front of him. The Light stabbed forward, blinding the bullrushing man and would do the same to anyone looking at the shield, as if they were staring into the sun. The man threw his hands up but it was too late to stop his momentum and even as Rex moved to the side in order to put himself between the man and Devon, the man crashed into the shield. He immediately began shouting in pain as the fire scorched his clothes and any exposed skin.

Then Rex shoved him to the side with the shield, diverting the man’s momentum, and held the blinding shield up in the direction of the guns.

Devon regretted his side step, but hiding behind Rex wasn’t the right way to approach an annoyingly threatening gang. While guns came down and a charge began the call to close his eyes was adhered to, but he also side stepped behind Rex once more allowing their backs to touch. Devon was trained in a few fighting styles, trained as an operative for Haven’s more secretive missions, and he’d been running them a while. Two people had to work in tandem, anticipate the next step…

By the time Tempest was finding his position, there was more quiet chanting and his eyelids were filled with light, clearly coming from the man behind him. Devon knew to follow the movement’s of Rex’s shoulderblades so when the spellcaster moved, so too did he. There wasn’t time to coordinate together and considering Rex’s attitudes so far today, Devon figured it was best just to follow his lead. The fact Rex had moved to accommodate a blockade against the charging oaf.

Devon winced at the pain he heard. That sounded like a burn. “The Lord bestows favor and honor,” he said quietly, thinking of what Rex was likely both doing and witnessing. He’d fought enough fires, even lit a few with a lightning call, to know that sound. No wonder this guy was jaded.

Rex moved slightly forward and Devon backed up along with him. It would be very clear Devon was accustomed to pairs, probably dancing but definitely strategic encounters such as well, what this was supposed to be.

The three toting guns screamed loudly from the blinding light. Someone yelled mutant, but Devon was sure now that wasn’t what he was experiencing. Of course, they weren’t wrong either. He’d put himself next to rex again considering the eye of the hurricane would be safest for both of them. This light meant he couldn’t look behind him but as he opened his eyes, shaded with dark sunglasses to hide the darkness that had gathered over the azure he could get a better sense of his surroundings.

A breeze wove over the two and began to circle them, quickly whipping into a wild series of currents, gusting outward. Would it turn away bullets? No. But his weather eye could watch for disturbances to the currents and hopefully he’d aid their movement. If nothing else…

Thunder boomed above and a gust of wind rushed out from the eye. It rocked through the burning oaf and the three gunmen. The oaf stumbled to a knee and then fell over while one of the pistol bearers went sailing across the room. The semi-automatic was firing, but at an upward angle from the wind's interference and the other pistol bearer was simply backing up, covering his eyes. He didn’t shoot. Still, the bullet fire was alarming.

“Would you rather have 6 more years or only 6 more seconds?” Tempest called loudly before adding a quiet snippet to Rex, “Hold on.” His words were punctuated with another boom of thunder before urging a gust to rush into the eye, spiral around their feet and legs, and carry them some 10 yards to the side, strafing away from where they’d been. They were off the ground some five feet before being gently brought back down.

The gun-bearers had closed their eyes and pointed in the direction of the two, steeling themselves against the winds now running chaotically through the space. Of course, they wouldn’t touch Rex unless Devon wanted them to. The burnt man was resign to his feet and screaming in a mix of agony and pain.

Bullets crashed into the shield, but Rex’s conviction held. Sizzling sounds erupted, followed by bangs as bullets struck the superheated surface and bounced off in random directions. Good. Good. There was far more gunfire than there seemed to be bullets hitting him, so Rex assumed their aim was thrown off by the light. Even better.

They’d run out of bullets anyways, and when that happened, Rex could advance. He just needed to ensure Devon wasn’t at risk for being shot first. Otherwise, Rex would have already charged in and grabbed the watches.

Then Rex heard the thunder. “What in Heaven…?” Rex breathed, nearly losing the sunshield in distraction as sudden winds were whipping everywhere and scattering the mooks.

Then he was yanked away by a rushing mighty wind and Devon floated down with him.

Mutant.

Rex stared at the man. Now a little more about him made sense. Only mutants brought this much pain to Rex’s life. It also probably meant he could defend himself. Rex grunted, not bothering to waste words to chastise the man for yanking them away from Rex’s target. Words didn’t seem to influence Devon.

“Keep your distance,” Rex said and he charged ahead once again, to regain the ground he’d lost. His eyes narrowed in focus and more power surged through him as his shield blossomed and expanded into a demisphere around him, burning against wind and bullets alike.

As they quickly floated along to one side, maintaining a perimeter, Tempest clocked the intent stare from Rex. While that look didn’t look positive, it was too late now to take it back. He was going to help this guy with whatever vigilante plan - just reclaiming the watch apparently - he had. The blinding, burning, who knows what might be more extreme than necessary but Devon was going to see how that went.

Gusts whipped around the rafters as Tempest hunched lower. Rex urged him to keep his distance, and it wasn’t certain if he meant from the others or from himself. Either way that was his usual preference anyway. Rex charged in and Tempest at least hoped it would be unexpected considering their last known location was 30’ to the right.

Bullets sizzled that were being fired off randomly as Rex barreled into the fray. The big guy struggled to see, but the pain of his burn urged him on. While the pistol toters fired at where Rex and Devon had been, the oaf felt the heat of Rex coming. They collided with severe blunt force from the oaf and heat from Rex.

Tempest meanwhile dashed up into a gust that caught him, raising him to the rafters. With a literally dark gaze, his focus was set upon the semi-automatic who was still firing wildly up and in the direction they’d been. It was clear his attention was coming back down to the earth so Tempest was intent on fixing that. With a terrific roar, a violent gust rushed into that foul-mouth, flinging him yards away and heavily into a wall. There was a fierce grunt of pain as the gun went skittering across the warehouse’s floor. But that wasn’t Tempest’s primary target…

Where was the computer geek?

The light of his shield was bright and hot, but it wasn’t nearly as unbearable for Rex as it was for anyone else. Still, it was harder to see through the light than normal, as the shield was a turtle shell around him. Gunfire scattered across the shield from time to time and he felt each bullet as a pinprick in his head, but there was no damage to himself or the shield. It would take many, many more bullets to wear down his shield, or at least far tougher rounds.

Rex ran toward the table with the watches and such on it, no longer concerned about shielding Devon. Mutants tended to be able to do a lot of damage in a fight and weren’t often the casualties in any conflict with baseline humans. Normally, Rex would have problems with that, but it wasn’t a huge deal in this context.

The man Rex had previously burnt crashed into the shield and though he did not break it, the impact still made Rex stumble several feet and grunt as he ate the impact. The man yelled in agony as fresh fire lanced his developing blisters, as well as the kinetic force of the impact. Rex shoved him back at an angle and finally found the table with the watches.

For a split second, Rex considered dropping his shield, as its current configuration would burn and shove at the table, an effective barrier to his goal. However, there were still many guns shooting. So Rex just leaped into the air, holding his shield arm as high as possible, and when he came down, he and his shield were now surrounding the table in a bubble of fire and light. With his free hand, he started searching for the watch.

The brute fell back, thrashing and screaming from the burns but the rage of his failure at taking Rex down was all the more consuming. Bullet fire occasionally hit his shield, which proved a fiery dome of brilliant and burning inspiration over him. A number of items had been spilled out over the table including rolexes and diamond tennis bracelets. There was wads of cash, the occasional ring…

Tempest spotted the hiding nerd, who looked up as the winds amongst the rafters whistled an eerie arrival. They started to move but the force of a gust pushed them back against it as Tempest descended. “Laptop, whatever you’re using, where is it?” he asked in demand.

They screamed, terrified as the mutant with the sunglasses drew a few feet closer. It was eerie to see the winds barely tousling his hair as yet the meanwhile blew with such strength the nerd could not move. The crate creaked under the attention.

“I don’t care what got you here; I’m not going to hurt you,” Tempest said urgently. “Computer. Where?” he asked again, screaming loudly.

“Back- back office-” they screamed in a whimper.

The father’s watch was nowhere upon the table. The bullet fire had become harder upon Rex’s shield, the pistol-bearers having realized where they found the brightness meant Rex was there. The pistol-bearers who’d been the ones to shake down the father… Was one wearing an old watch?

It wasn’t there. The watch wasn’t there. There weren’t many watches on the table - so many people didn’t wear them anymore - so it didn’t take long to sort through. Rex wasn’t an expert on watches himself, but he knew the inscription on the watch and had seen it many times.

He frowned. He knew the watch was in the area, or else his prayers wouldn’t have led him there.

Gunfire continued to erupt against his shield, but he ignored it. He wasn’t in danger yet. Devon could probably handle himself. There were no innocent bystanders here and nothing that Rex would be concerned about if it took damage from rebounding bullets. In short, it wasn’t an emergency.

Rex kept his arm up and the shield burning brightly and then he closed his eyes and prayed again, reaching out to the place from which he drew fire and answers. ”Father, I know you are there. O omniscient one, please guide me once more to the watch of Father Lorenzo.”

Suddenly his feet wanted to move. Rex smiled grimly and began walking in a straight line toward the gunman with the purloined heirloom under a dome of sunfire.