THREE YEARS EARLIER

"Aw, Sabretooth, do you always have to screw them up so much? We just operated on this one less than a month ago!" a doctor groaned. Victor walked past him, Remy strung over his shoulder, ignoring the man's comments. Blood dripped on the floor as he walked.

The main part of Team X's headquarters was a large, concrete room full of cages. He'd been instructed to deposit his burden in the third one on the left. He swung the door open with ease depositing Remy on the floor. The unconscious man's breathing came in gasps, a broken rib stabbing against a lung. One of his arms lay at an unnatural angle and he was covered in slash marks. Victor locked the cage door before turning to leave.

"Victor! It's been a while!" a voice spoke from down the hall. Victor turned to see a familiar man with brown and gray hair approaching him, dressed in military clothes.

"Stryker," Victor replied in greeting.

"So you got Gambit," Stryker said, glancing at the cage where Remy lay, "I heard he attacked you and the other Marauders."

"Yeah," Victor said, attempting to push past the smaller man.

"Have you talked to Logan lately?" Stryker asked, knowing what his answer would be.

Victor stopped in his tracks. "No."

Stryker smiled. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Spit it out then," Victor growled.

Stryker laughed. "Somewhere private, if you don't mind. Follow me." Victor hesitated before complying.

Remy awoke a while later feeling disoriented. He tried to get up and immediately fell back to the ground, gasping in pain. He was in a cell of metal bars with a slightly dirty cement floor. He looked up to see several guards guiding a dark haired girl toward his cage. They were talking as they came closer, but he wasn't interested in their conversation.

The men pointed their guns at Remy as they unlocked the door, pushing her inside. She had unnaturally black eyes that were set in something of a sightless glare. She didn't bother to look at him before moving to sit down on a filthy cot in the corner of the cell. He waited until he couldn't hear them anymore before he tried to look at her again. She was sitting in the same place, staring directly in front of herself. He noticed what appeared to be a single tear adorning her cheek and finger-shaped bruises on her wrists.

Remy stood up slowly, bracing himself against the bars and wincing in pain as his broken arm made contact with the cold metal. His breathing was labored and he had to fight a wave of nausea as he moved to sit down in the cot across from her. "What's your name, fillete?" he asked.

Her eyes were now locked on his, but he saw no recognition there.

"You won't get any talk out of her," a man said from the cell behind Remy. He turned to look, seeing a green-tinted mutant peering in at him. "Doctors implanted some type of computer chip in her brain," the mutant continued, his tongue flicking out to wipe at his eye, "She's been under their control as long as I've been here. The doctors were just messing with it again. Apparently she bit one of the guards yesterday, and they wanted to make sure she couldn't do something like that again."

"What commands?" Remy asked, turning from the mutant to the girl, "Why did she bite them?"
"One of the guys probably got carried away," the man said, shrugging, "Not that this was the first time they'd taken her for a joy ride, if you catch my drift."

Remy whipped back around staring at the mutant in shock, "What?"

The prisoner laughed, "Well, what do you expect? The girl doesn't have any free will; they can do whatever they want with her and she ain't gonna complain."

Remy turned back to the young woman sitting across from him, his uninjured hand clenching in a fist. The green mutant snorted, turning his attention elsewhere.

They were brought food a few hours later; water, bread, and an apple each. Remy noticed the girl only nibbled at hers, her unseeing glare never ceasing. He went to sleep after finishing his own.

Remy walked down a dark, but familiar, street in New Orleans; it took him a while to realize he was dreaming. The air was warm and confetti littered the road, but there was no one else in sight. He felt a strange pull as he walked passed a back-alley, and turned to look. There was a single door at the far end, lit by an overhead lamp. Feeling the strange tug again, he walked toward the door, finding it unlocked and stepping inside.

The room was a perfect, white cube; there was no furniture in the room, and no windows, only the door he'd come through and a similar door on the opposite wall. In the center of the room stood a dark haired girl; she was wearing a white, silk dress and she smiled when he looked at her. He recognized her as his cellmate.

"My name's Vera Musil," she told him, "What's yours?"

"Remy LeBeau," he answered, immediately surprised at himself for giving her his real name. She moved closer, her expression turning thoughtful as she reached out a hand, gently touching his right arm.

"You've been hurt," she said softly, copper-colored eyes looking up to peer into his own.

It seemed an odd thing to say, but he felt in the back of his mind that she was telling the truth. She moved her hand so she was touching his chest now, and her eyes dropped, looking saddened. "And quite a bit at that," she added. Vera pulled her hand away, turning and moving across the room. Remy couldn't help but notice the way her hips gently swayed as she walked.

"You should rest," Vera told him, opening the other door. The room began to dissolve as she closed it behind her.

An odd sensation came over Remy, like he was floating. He felt a numbing cold wash over his arm and side, while he struggled to think, finally giving in to whatever she was doing to him.