Disclaimer: I do not own X-men Evolution
One-Shot
You got saved by a Mutie, normal
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Remy LeBeau was a theif by nature, a charmer and a mutant in denial. He was also a street rat/brat/kid. Living it rough, struggling through the winter and in a thief's paradise during the summer ( tourists, gullible tourists). A survivor by nature, a fighter in the tightest situations and incredibly resourceful when he wanted to be. Gambit.
Although if you asked him," Are you a mutant?" he'd deny it though he'd had training and his complete control over his power screamed otherwise. His power, his gift was the ability to bio-kinetically charge objects. i.e. he touch object, object go boom.
Another more subtle power was a minor, perhaps not even, the power- to charm people, he seemed to be able to sense people's feelings and react accordingly. He was a cunning empathic.
He was seventeen this year, the actual date of his birthday - he couldn't remember or care.
As he slinked through the alleys he decided to stay low... as he'd just robbed a museum. His hand in his pocket was gripping a very nice diamond tiara thing. He knew its entire history but that was just a formality- he always liked to know exactly what he was risking his skin for.
He wore an old trench coat, old trainers and dark colours in general. His hair was auburn, brownish, hair longish, tied back, long bangs/ fringe.
Limping was definitely not a common thing for the usually agile and graceful thief, but having a dramatic bullet rip through your leg seemed to cause that particular outcome. He grunted, ignoring the searing heat, he would have simply stopped running if it wasn't for the police and their handy dogs on his trail.
Yes, for the first time in seven years of missions (indeed he'd started 'working' at eleven) - he'd totally screwed up.
A minor miscalculation in putting the security cameras on a loop for only four minutes had been grudgingly stupid on his part. He had totally underestimated the bored security watchmen and his own sluggish attempts at reaching his prize.
Remy was ignoring the black dots blipping his eyesight; he'd been 'running' for two hours and had no intention of stopping until he had to. He had to been sure that he wasn't caught. A sloppy bandage ripped from the material of his trench coat was soaked through with blood from his wound, his movement only aggravating the problem.
It was dark but part of his mutation was red on black mutant eyes, Diablo Blanc eyes that could even glow if he got pissed off enough- they also granted him night vision.
It was night as previously mentioned and with the blackness there was silence, a relief to Remy at least. It was also cold, but he would have been cold either way- blood loss.
He started to stumble, his body swaying and scuffing a wall, he wobbled into the other wall of the alley as well, he fell to one knee, got back up but fell again.
He landed flat out on the concrete just as he made it out on to an open street and passed out at the feet of another youth, tripping the youth in the process.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His second name was Skye and he preferred walking at night when there were less people to stare at him. He was a mutant; he preferred the term 'Life empowered' but often had to settle for 'freak' and 'mutie'.
It was only slightly obvious that he was a mutant. His hair was nearly white; ice blond was the actual colour. His fringe, his bangs were long and obscured the sides of his vision. The long strands occasionally covered his eyes in a way that made him feel like he was in prison. He didn't mind.
He'd let his night glowing hair grow and tied it back, usually he wore a black sweepers cap, bright light blue eyes peering through bangs. His hair slightly glowed during the day but it was less noticeable than at night.
His clothes were usually dull green, brown, and black with large boots. He looked like a soldier with was weird because Skye was a fond believer in peace.
His first name was Orlando.
After leaving the cinema, watching any movie he could sneak into, Harry Potter was crowded; it was easier to slip in when there was a mob. He stood at the back row for two hours plus. It didn't bother him; he'd been treated like an animal when he was younger so standing for two hours was nothing.
Leaving at about ten (he'd been at the late showing) with a box of popcorn 'borrowed' from some parent who had somehow fallen asleep, he walked along the street, his footsteps eerily making no noise on the concrete pavement.
Suddenly he tripped over something, popcorn flying from his hand and bouncing along the pavement. He leapt to his feet and calmly surveyed and pieced together the picture.
Kneeling down beside the fallen figure his calm voice seemed to even pacify the air itself, "You look a lot different from the photo those cops released, my mutant buddy".
Skye leaned down further, put the thief's arm over his shoulder and unsteadily stood up, "I would take you home, but even I don't want to go there. Plus my parents already count me as a stray, they won't want two" the cold condensation came from his mouth and caused small puffs of white cloud.
Orlando Skye looked both ways down the street, no witnesses and knelt back down, " You're a heavy stray, might help if you weren't loaded with so much stolen stuff" his ghostly blue eyes focused on the heavy looking trench coat, large pockets looking filled and a diamond trinket hanging half out.
Skye eyes scanned down the fallen youth and found the source of the problem, blood from the leg. Skye hated blood, thick, red stuff. He felt beyond compelled to make it stop bleeding and return it to its proper flow, it was instinct, perhaps need. He could smell blood and it made him feel ill.
He shifted his body, and half crawled over to the offending leg, injury. He pushed the thief's baggy black jean leg up slightly to reveal the injured skin. His white, bright blue eyes glowed slightly white at the sight of the raw injury, it looked infected and his eyes were now totally pure white.
Orlando closed his eyes, the glow escaping from the bottom of his eyelids still. His hands were abrupt in igniting in light, pure blinding white. He mentally prayed that there were no witnesses.
He put his hands together, one on top of the other and pressed the covered hand right onto the wound. The warm blood that was previously oozing from the bullet wound shrunk down, dried and wisps of a breeze took the particles into the abyss.
The light from Skye's hands went inside the actual tear and knitted it up from the inside.
Skye could feel the pain that it had caused lessen into nothing, externally speaking the skin closed over and even small details such as leg hair reappeared.
The thiefs leg was left exactly as it had been before the injury. Orlando had no need to take the bullet out because it had ripped straight through, it wasn't there to extract.
"Urgh" Remy's eyes flickered open, he felt ... fine. Perhaps even better than ever. He wasn't in any pain; He was expecting his consciousness to be an uphill struggle.
"You're welcome" came a tired, weak but calming voice.
Remy LeBeau shot up from his shockingly uncomfortable position on the ground, standing perfectly on his fully healed leg. He looked around for the owner of the voice and saw nothing. He looked for any sign that he'd been injured, not even any dried blood. Another mutant?
He couldn't see anyone; the usually echoing streets were as silent as the grave. His theif instinct had him checking his pockets for his stolen goods, a chain with a diamond piece in it was missing -but in its place he had a note,
"Nothing is for free. You got saved by a mutie, normal".
Remy smirked.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rads: Pointless, right? At least i got to add my own little dude for one fic.
Please review; criticize, what ever you wish except flames
One-Shot
You got saved by a Mutie, normal
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Remy LeBeau was a theif by nature, a charmer and a mutant in denial. He was also a street rat/brat/kid. Living it rough, struggling through the winter and in a thief's paradise during the summer ( tourists, gullible tourists). A survivor by nature, a fighter in the tightest situations and incredibly resourceful when he wanted to be. Gambit.
Although if you asked him," Are you a mutant?" he'd deny it though he'd had training and his complete control over his power screamed otherwise. His power, his gift was the ability to bio-kinetically charge objects. i.e. he touch object, object go boom.
Another more subtle power was a minor, perhaps not even, the power- to charm people, he seemed to be able to sense people's feelings and react accordingly. He was a cunning empathic.
He was seventeen this year, the actual date of his birthday - he couldn't remember or care.
As he slinked through the alleys he decided to stay low... as he'd just robbed a museum. His hand in his pocket was gripping a very nice diamond tiara thing. He knew its entire history but that was just a formality- he always liked to know exactly what he was risking his skin for.
He wore an old trench coat, old trainers and dark colours in general. His hair was auburn, brownish, hair longish, tied back, long bangs/ fringe.
Limping was definitely not a common thing for the usually agile and graceful thief, but having a dramatic bullet rip through your leg seemed to cause that particular outcome. He grunted, ignoring the searing heat, he would have simply stopped running if it wasn't for the police and their handy dogs on his trail.
Yes, for the first time in seven years of missions (indeed he'd started 'working' at eleven) - he'd totally screwed up.
A minor miscalculation in putting the security cameras on a loop for only four minutes had been grudgingly stupid on his part. He had totally underestimated the bored security watchmen and his own sluggish attempts at reaching his prize.
Remy was ignoring the black dots blipping his eyesight; he'd been 'running' for two hours and had no intention of stopping until he had to. He had to been sure that he wasn't caught. A sloppy bandage ripped from the material of his trench coat was soaked through with blood from his wound, his movement only aggravating the problem.
It was dark but part of his mutation was red on black mutant eyes, Diablo Blanc eyes that could even glow if he got pissed off enough- they also granted him night vision.
It was night as previously mentioned and with the blackness there was silence, a relief to Remy at least. It was also cold, but he would have been cold either way- blood loss.
He started to stumble, his body swaying and scuffing a wall, he wobbled into the other wall of the alley as well, he fell to one knee, got back up but fell again.
He landed flat out on the concrete just as he made it out on to an open street and passed out at the feet of another youth, tripping the youth in the process.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His second name was Skye and he preferred walking at night when there were less people to stare at him. He was a mutant; he preferred the term 'Life empowered' but often had to settle for 'freak' and 'mutie'.
It was only slightly obvious that he was a mutant. His hair was nearly white; ice blond was the actual colour. His fringe, his bangs were long and obscured the sides of his vision. The long strands occasionally covered his eyes in a way that made him feel like he was in prison. He didn't mind.
He'd let his night glowing hair grow and tied it back, usually he wore a black sweepers cap, bright light blue eyes peering through bangs. His hair slightly glowed during the day but it was less noticeable than at night.
His clothes were usually dull green, brown, and black with large boots. He looked like a soldier with was weird because Skye was a fond believer in peace.
His first name was Orlando.
After leaving the cinema, watching any movie he could sneak into, Harry Potter was crowded; it was easier to slip in when there was a mob. He stood at the back row for two hours plus. It didn't bother him; he'd been treated like an animal when he was younger so standing for two hours was nothing.
Leaving at about ten (he'd been at the late showing) with a box of popcorn 'borrowed' from some parent who had somehow fallen asleep, he walked along the street, his footsteps eerily making no noise on the concrete pavement.
Suddenly he tripped over something, popcorn flying from his hand and bouncing along the pavement. He leapt to his feet and calmly surveyed and pieced together the picture.
Kneeling down beside the fallen figure his calm voice seemed to even pacify the air itself, "You look a lot different from the photo those cops released, my mutant buddy".
Skye leaned down further, put the thief's arm over his shoulder and unsteadily stood up, "I would take you home, but even I don't want to go there. Plus my parents already count me as a stray, they won't want two" the cold condensation came from his mouth and caused small puffs of white cloud.
Orlando Skye looked both ways down the street, no witnesses and knelt back down, " You're a heavy stray, might help if you weren't loaded with so much stolen stuff" his ghostly blue eyes focused on the heavy looking trench coat, large pockets looking filled and a diamond trinket hanging half out.
Skye eyes scanned down the fallen youth and found the source of the problem, blood from the leg. Skye hated blood, thick, red stuff. He felt beyond compelled to make it stop bleeding and return it to its proper flow, it was instinct, perhaps need. He could smell blood and it made him feel ill.
He shifted his body, and half crawled over to the offending leg, injury. He pushed the thief's baggy black jean leg up slightly to reveal the injured skin. His white, bright blue eyes glowed slightly white at the sight of the raw injury, it looked infected and his eyes were now totally pure white.
Orlando closed his eyes, the glow escaping from the bottom of his eyelids still. His hands were abrupt in igniting in light, pure blinding white. He mentally prayed that there were no witnesses.
He put his hands together, one on top of the other and pressed the covered hand right onto the wound. The warm blood that was previously oozing from the bullet wound shrunk down, dried and wisps of a breeze took the particles into the abyss.
The light from Skye's hands went inside the actual tear and knitted it up from the inside.
Skye could feel the pain that it had caused lessen into nothing, externally speaking the skin closed over and even small details such as leg hair reappeared.
The thiefs leg was left exactly as it had been before the injury. Orlando had no need to take the bullet out because it had ripped straight through, it wasn't there to extract.
"Urgh" Remy's eyes flickered open, he felt ... fine. Perhaps even better than ever. He wasn't in any pain; He was expecting his consciousness to be an uphill struggle.
"You're welcome" came a tired, weak but calming voice.
Remy LeBeau shot up from his shockingly uncomfortable position on the ground, standing perfectly on his fully healed leg. He looked around for the owner of the voice and saw nothing. He looked for any sign that he'd been injured, not even any dried blood. Another mutant?
He couldn't see anyone; the usually echoing streets were as silent as the grave. His theif instinct had him checking his pockets for his stolen goods, a chain with a diamond piece in it was missing -but in its place he had a note,
"Nothing is for free. You got saved by a mutie, normal".
Remy smirked.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rads: Pointless, right? At least i got to add my own little dude for one fic.
Please review; criticize, what ever you wish except flames