Summary: A lovely absorber? Is it really what you think? It's not Rogue, that's for sure. A bet of sorts; a race to the finish. Who will win? Another Romy/Jott One-Shot. Semi-Sequel to Game. Romy. Jott.
Disclaimer: If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like New York, London… or Tokyo Disney… 'Nuff said…
On With the Show!
A Lovely Absorber
A normal day at the Xavier Institute for the Gifted.
Or so the audience is left to think.
Inside, something savage is about to unfold, something unseen and ludicrous in the eyes of men. The raging horror that will be unleashed will leave many confused, abandoned, scared for their lives. The terror of what is about to be unleashed is to be left to the strong only. It is unconceivable to some, yet necessary for uncountable many. It is the will for survival that leads the crazed for this horrible adventure.
Yet, if this horrendous task is forced on the wrong people, things may turn ugly…
And what may cause this massive turn of events, you ask?
"Scott could so beat him."
"Ah bet he couldn't. He's too anal. He'd storm out 'fore the game was over." She blew a white tendril out of her face and rolled her dusky green eyes.
"Hey! That's my boyfriend we're talking about!" Jean cried indignantly, her mouth open in offense.
Rogue laughed at her face. "Jeanie, even ya think he's a little stick-up-the-ass anal."
Both girls leaned against the wall. They watched their men battle their testosterone levels in a "friendly" match of pool. Remy successfully sunk three balls at once, much to Scott's chagrin.
"You're cheating, Gambit," Scott snarled.
Remy just smirked, catching Rogue's eye and winking. "Y' just mad Remy's winnin'." Rogue again rolled her eyes at his antics and gave Jean a knowing, triumphant look. Jean was flustered. She protested.
"Oh, but still! He has changed."
"Bullshit. Not 'nough anyways. Remy still wins."
"You only say that because you're so hung up on him. You know… some time ago you would have placed all bets on Scott…" Jean suggestively added, her voice sing-song.
Rogue narrowed her eyes at her subtle, yet loud innuendo. "Don't go there."
"It's true!"
"In mah defense, Ah was young and stupid."
"Remy?"
"Well… 'parently not much has changed. But even you gotta admit the Cajun's hot," she disclaimed.
Jean laughed, but didn't disagree.
"Scott's way more focused than Remy."
"Again, because he's too anal! Just because ya can see the pool stick right in front of him doesn't mean he doesn't have another one lodged somewhere up his ass, Jeanie!"
"Hey! Anal or not, at least my boyfriend gets stuff done!"
"Remy does too!" She grinned, the previous night of fun and games in her head. "Especially in bed." Jean shook her head, blowing off Rogue's menial comment.
"Ah-ah, don't go there, Rogue." She wagged her finger disapprovingly.
"An' why not?" Rogue challenged proudly.
"You don't know Scott in bed," Jean retorted triumphantly.
"Ah don't need ta. Ah have Remy. Your Scotty-boy may be "focused," but mah man has drive, speed, agility, and gawd-damn fast fingers. He takes a bra off and gives you whiplash."
"Ha! I doubt it," Jean rolled her eyes, ignoring the exaggeration.
"Doubt all you'd like. Take a peak inside mah head if ya want somethin' really orgasmic." Rogue wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, a trick obviously engraved by Remy.
"No, I'm alright Rogue. I don't need your mediocre memories. Mine suffice," Jean stressed.
"Ya just scared Ah'm right."
Jean snorted.
A moment of silence over came them as they watched their men size each other up. Scott was getting quite red in the face with each passing turn. Remy's smirks only grew. He waved to Rogue and nodded towards Jean amiably. Jean waited until their eyes were off the girls. The room was tensioned. Everyone grew quiet as Scott rounded the table, eyeing the ball and his opponent.
"Scott's still better," Jean whispered off-handedly.
"Mah ass he is!" Rogue exploded. "Ya man can't even play pool right! Or anything besides Danger Room! There is a l'il more ta be accounted for in being better, ya know. Ya just mad 'cuz mah man has tha bettah pool posture, makin' it so ya can check out his ass."
"I don't need to check him out!"
"Fahne, then ya just agitated 'cuz Slim Jim ova there doesn't have much to look at. And Scott doesn't even have an ass! It's just a junction between his back and his legs!"
"You only think that because Scott's doesn't wear skin-tight clothing like your man-whore does! Scott happens to be a lot more secure in his manhood like than to flounce around in clothes like that- unlike Remy," she hissed.
"Hey! Mah man is very secure in his man pride!" Rogue defended, clenching her fists unconciously.
"Oh really?" Jean smirked, finally catching something to taunt Rogue on. "Then why is it that he wears clothing tighter than you? I mean, if he weren't careful, someone could take him for a gay guy."
"You think that's bad? Ya man's such a poster boy for Abercrombie & Fitch that he twitches when you say homosexual! You say menstruation and he gets all tongue-tied!"
"He does not!"
"Ah know this! Ah've seen him!"
"I don't believe you." Jean flipped her hair ignorantly.
Rogue raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Jean taunted her stiffly.
"Fahne." Her voice became saccharine. "Let's test it."
"Test what?"
"How secure your Scott-boy is, of course," she honeyed.
"And Remy?" Her man wasn't going without competition.
"Fahne- both. More entertainment."
"What are you playing at Rogue?"
"A bet, if ya will."
"What kind of bet?" Jean's voice deadpanned and she became suspicious. Rogue opened her mouth, only to promptly close it. She smirked widely and fluttered her fingers towards the guys. Jean looked over and saw both guys staring intently at them. Apparently their exclamations took away from their riveting game. Remy winked while Scott glowered.
"Crazy filles," Remy shook his head in mock shame.
"Get back to the game, Gambit," Scott spat.
Jean turned her attention back to Rogue.
"Fine. How are we doing this?"
"Rules first," Rogue began carefully. "Ya can't tell the guys."
"Naturally."
"We, or rather they, start at the same time, say at 3."
"Sounds good…" Jean answered slowly.
"You can't tell them any specific type."
"Specific type? What in the world are you talking about?"
"Real men ask for help."
"No they don't."
Rogue thought for a moment.
"No, they don't. But they will. If they're secure enough," she mocked Jean's words. "If not, they'll have to figure it out how to on their own, with their own methods."
"What-"
"You couldn't have made that shot! You moved the ball!" Scott's enraged voice rose over Jean's.
"Remy did not. Y' just seein' t'ings!" He blew him off.
Both males stood across the length of the table, sporting glares, each gripping the pool stick so hard their knuckles were different shades.
"Let's make this more interestin'," Rogue speculated.
"How?"
"They have ta go ta the same store. They're bound ta meet each other there. They're bound ta cause trouble."
"Which store?"
"Walmart."
"What! He'll never go!"
"He would if he loved ya."
"Damnit, Gambit!"
"Cool y' jets, Cyke. Y' loosin'. Get ov'r it!"
"What happens when you lose?"
"If Ah lose, ya git full man-pride braggin' rights. When you lose, Ah git full braggin' rights."
"You drive a hard bargain, Rogue," Jean observed.
"Yea, so?"
"You still haven't told me what this is really all about."
"Look inside mah head." Jean kept her eyes on the younger girl and slowly skimmed the forefront of Rogue's thoughts. Her eyes widened. She covered her mouth and laughed. Rogue smirked, satisfied.
"Ya in?"
"I-I'm so in," Jean choked out.
"Goddamnit, I'm done." Scott threw down the pool stick and stormed out. Remy followed a second later and yelled out the door.
"Was fun winnin' against y' again, Scotty!"
Rogue turned back to Jean.
"We start at 3."
"You want a war, Rogue, you're going to get one," Jean declared, murmuring to herself. She polished her lips with a layer of clear lip gloss and smacked her lips. She stood up straight and made a last minute adjustment to her hair.
"Almost time," she noted, looking at the slender, but expensive watch adorning her slender wrist. "Time to make my move."
She hurried out of her room, more like wobbled with her many inches of heel. As she walked she pulled down her skirt to fit her stride down the boys' wing. She paused at Scott's door, about to knock, when she inched her mini-skirt up just a tad.
Wouldn't hurt, she thought. She pulled her low V-neck shirt a little as well. He is a guy after all, she justified.
Ready, she knocked on the door and awaited her man.
Nothing.
She knocked again. "Scott?"
Nothing.
She looked at her watch.
3:05. Shit.
She scanned the area with her mind. Rogue never said she couldn't use her powers, so technically…
He was in the library. Down the stairs and across the Mansion. She headed off, wobbling slightly as she briskly ran down the halls and stairs.
She had a feeling Rogue had already implanted her scheme in Remy's head.
Oh, she wasn't about to lose to a goth girl. A perfectionist at heart drove the competitive side of her. Had she told Scott, she knew he would be all for it, and they definitely would win. His competitive side sometimes overtook hers.
But no.
Rogue just had to make the rules.
But still. Even if Jean wasn't allowed to tell Scott, she was going to win with her powerful skills of persuasion.
She scooted to a stop in front of the library door, and adjusted her skirt and shirt once more. She did her best to look calm and collected as she jiggled the doorknob.
She entered, eyes peered open for Scott. Left, right. He was hiding.
She went towards the back and found him sitting on the couch, his back to her, reading what it seemed like, one of his college textbooks. She sauntered over to him, putting her arms around his neck and murmuring into his ear.
"Hey," she hummed. Scott jumped slightly as she traced a finger down his abdomen.
"Hey, I didn't hear you," was his official response.
"I know," came her simple, girlish reply, complete with a sensuous giggle. Walking around the edge of the couch, she approached him, "accidentally" flipping over a text book with her knee and a little help with her telepathy.
"Opps," she simpered, bending over at the ass to pick it up. She felt Scott's stare on her. Good.
"So… uh… what brings you over here?" Scott was flustered and tried to subtly advert his gaze. She sat down beside him casually, tracing up his bicep.
"Oh you know, just in the area, wanted to see if you were busy. It kinda looks like you are…" she trailed off, a hint of a pout in her voice.
"N-no, not busy at all," he interjected.
"But you were so focused on your studying; I wouldn't want to distract you. I'll just go then," she sighed. She stood up, adding a slight, unneeded accentuation to her top half. Scott grabbed her arm.
"No, Jean, stay. Really," he flashed a genuine smile. "Anything can wait for you," he added. She smiled back.
"Good," she purred, sitting on his lap and crossing her legs. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.
"What's… this?" He was blushing slightly.
"Nothing…" she trailed off, kissing him again, tracing down his chest with her finger. He wrapped his arms around her waist and caressed her lower back. Heck, he wasn't about to pass up this chance.
She moaned a little bit more. God, Scott was good at this. Spontaneous make-out sessions always turned her on some; she couldn't help liking the feeling of being bad. If it wasn't for that stupid bet…and considering the Library was empty…and she was in her "easy access" skirt….
But god damn, she had a bet to win. Time to place her plan in overdrive.
She pushed Scott into the couch more and moved to straddle him. Her short skirt inched up, bunching up at the very top of her thighs. She continued to kiss him as her chest hung out of the shirt and her hands wandered all over his body. Not to say Scott's hands weren't busy. By golly, they were. He ran his hands down her side, lingering at her ass, then he pulled her legs closer to him. Oh, he knew where this was leading alright. Or so he thought.
She moved into him more, slightly pressing against his male parts. He squeezed her tighter and she moaned again.
And then she stopped.
She leaned back and groaned.
"What?" Scott asked, alarmed. "What'd I do?"
She put a hand to her head and shook her head. "No, it's not you, Scott. It's just… I… forgot something." She groaned again and got off of Scott.
"Forgot what?"
What a sucker.
"It's just… I forgot to pick up something from the store yesterday, and I need it today."
"Well, can't you go back to the store now?"
She frowned. "It's too far and I have a Sim to run with the new recruits in about a little bit. Crap..."
"Hey, it's no big. I'll just go to the store for you, how about that?"
Jean's eyes lit up. "Could you really? I mean, I know it's a bit of a drive and you don't really like Walmart that much, but would you do me this favor?" She rushed the Walmart part, but made up for it as she pressed herself to Scott's head in a … boob-full hug.
"Uh, yea, sure…. It's cool." His voice slightly faltered.
"I'll give you money and everything," she told him as she grabbed a wad of money hidden away in her bra, making sure to flash him some skin. She handed it to him and smiled.
"So what exactly did you need?" he asked.
"Well…" she looked around, playing along as she leaned closer to his ear. The words ran by his comprehension as his face whitened. His eyes got wider and wider.
"WHAT?"
Footsteps.
Rogue's head jerked up towards the clock.
3:01.
He was late.
When it came to matters of seeing her, he was almost never late. She told him specifically to come around her room around 3 (-ish). To seal the deal, she even kissed him! That no good…
She threw herself on the ground, curling up in the fetal position with her back to the door. The footsteps were getting closer. She emitted a small moan, grasping her stomach, wincing in pain.
Closer.
Another moan.
A knock at the door.
"Come…in…" she croaked out. She let out another groan as the door opened, curling into herself tighter.
"Ohmygosh, Rogue!"
"Damnit." It was Kitty. She heard Kitty fling next to her.
"Rogue! Are you okay?" Her voice was frantic. Rogue sighed despondently and sat up next to Kitty.
"Have ya seen Remy around?" She asked plainly.
"What?"
"Have ya?" She looked bored.
Kitty was perplexed. "What the hell? You-You-" she gasped.
"Yea, yea, Ah know. Have ya seen him?"
"I, like think, he's downstairs. Why?"
"Ah'll explain later."
"Explain what? Why? You were in pain one minute and now you're totally fine!"
"Yea, Ah said Ah'll explain later… But now that ya're here anyways…How well do ya act?"
"Remy!" Kitty ran through the hallways and doors. She had started with the dormitories, but he wasn't there. She phased downstairs and outside, but to no avail. She called his name and ran literally through the house madly. She ran and phased through the kitchen and found herself in the Rec room. She spotted the auburn-haired Cajun playing Solitare in front of the TV.
"Remy!" Her voice was frantic.
"Oui, petite?" He placed a last card down, then gathered them all in one mesh pile. He flipped through them, shuffling through them lazily.
"Come on!" He raised his eyebrows.
"Hurry!" She grabbed him by the arm and ran through the wall, phasing them both. He stopped her in the middle of the hallway; he did not like phasing.
"Chatte, what's goin' on?"
"We don't have time for this!" She looked back wide-eyed and frenzied. He held her back as she attempted to phase them through another wall.
"What's dis 'bout?"
"It's Rogue." Her voice changed into a grave, whispered tone. His heart thudded and sank. He felt a cold fear settle over his body. He pulled her with him, off on a running spree to Rogue's room.
"What happened?" His voice was harsh and demanding, almost a growl.
"I-I dunno. I went into her room, and she was talking crazy!" Her voice sounded on the breaking point.
They ran up the stairs, Kitty struggling with every step, Remy skipping some in his mad dash. Remy was in the lead; he yanked her with him, ordering her to phase through something every few steps.
Thousand of possibilities ran through his head. If she was hurt… if anyone had hurt her… if his past had finally come up to haunt him through her…
He swung the door open and witnessed a crumpled Rogue. She was curled on the floor, still in her fetal position. Her hands were clenched on her stomach and a small whimper of pain elicited from her sweet mouth. Tiny beads of sweat lined her forehead. Remy threw himself next to her. He took her into his arms and cleared the hair off her face. Eyes fluttered open, then shut.
"Remy?" her voice was weak and no longer held that familiar Southern tangy twang.
"Rogue, chere, what's wrong?" His voice was thickened with concern. He held up her limp body close to him. She grimaced and clenched on to his arm.
"Ah love ya, Rems. Ah'm sorrah-," she cut off as she groaned in pain again.
"What happened?" his voice was feverish with impatience.
"Ah dunno," her voice whispered. "Ah think it's-," she gasped, another strangled cry came from her. He was alarmed.
"Let's take y' t' Dr. McCoy," he designated determinedly, attempting to lift her. She protested.
"No…he can't help," her eyes fluttered. "Only you can help me…" She gasped for air.
"Oh god, Rogue!" Kitty cried from behind Remy. She muffled a sob and flung herself next to Rogue. Rogue arched her back in pain.
"How?"
"Rems…"
"Tell me, I'll do anyt'ing! Don't leave me, Rogue!"
"Rems…" her voice faltered as she mouthed words.
"What?" He brought his ear closer to her tender mouth.
"Ah need…" she breathed. As she pressed closer to his ear, his eyes widened at her request.
"WHAT?"
Scott stepped out of his cherry-red baby and looked up. The ugly, white and blue Walmart sign mocked him. This monster of a store that ran two stories tall, it laughed at him. Hell, everyone else was probably laughing as well. Because… they knew. Everyone knew.
He walked casually into the store, and when I say casually, I mean with eyes darting from side-to-side, as if some knock-off, Equate brand anti-dandruff shampoo was about to own him in the head. He took a deep breath, and walked through the automatic doors and nearly jumped back in fear as the fan from on top of the door bombarded him with air. I mean, what the fuck is the point of that air vent?
He walked confidently through the next set of automatic doors and looked ahead of him. Another corporate evil advertised itself in the form of a red-head clown. McDonalds. Oh, the funky horror.
"Would you like a cart, sir?" A grainy voice spoke to him.
He jumped back in fear. From where did this old, smiling lady COME FROM? With basket? She knew… they all knew…they were all in this together. His face turned red. He mumbled incoherently as he grabbed the basket from the small yet old lady's hand.
"Have a nice day, young man!" she called cheerily as he scooted away. He grimaced. Those little old ladies always snuck up on him whenever he walked into that store….
He rolled forward and looked around. Men's section to his front left. Women's clothing to his front right…
But now… to find that section…
His face blanched at the thousands of people milling around in this Walmart Superstore.
Where's a map when you need one?
Remy turned off the ignition and took off his helmet. He looked at the store in disgust. Not because of the store itself.
Hells no.
He figured he'd go once in a while and play Robin Hood. Take from the rich (Walmart), give to the poor (himself.) He figured Walmart needed to have its ego popped once in a while. So every occasionally, he'd give himself a five-fingered discount on something unnecessarily stupid.
But, oh, the circumstances he was under.
"But Remy, all those tahmes Ah played video games with ya…Do those tahmes nawt mean anythang ta ya?" He mocked her sweet, sickly sounding southern accent. It was such a low blow. And they kept coming.
"Ya owe meh a favor, Remy Etienne LeBeau. Do it or else ya never gettin' laid again!" he mocked again, making faces and sticking his tongue out at his invisible Rogue. "'M s' whipped," he whistled sadly. He shoved his hands in his trench coat pocked and whistled on towards the entrance. And just before… he stopped.
"Well, I'll b' damned…" To his right was a cherry red convertible. Same white stripe and everything.
"Well Scooter… Dis is f' accusin' poo' ol' Remy of cheatin'. 's jus' a shame y' don't know Remy's jus' dat good." Remy made his way towards the car and looked inside. He went toward the front, and popped open the hood. He reached down, and pulled random cords. "Scooter won't know what hit 'im." He closed the hood and began whistling again, shoving his hands in his pockets. He smiled and nodded towards a few girls that passed him and entered Walmart.
As he walked in, a wobbly old lady smiled madly at him and offered him a cart. He smiled, but shook his head.
"Merci, mais, not today," he told her. She just stared, as if she forgot.
"Basket, sir?" she asked again.
"Um, no thanks," he repeated slowly. He walked past her, but her voice stopped him again.
"Would you like a basket, young man?" His eye twitched as he plastered a fake smile on his face. She didn't wait for an answer as she shoved a cart to him.
"Erm, thank y'." He took a deep breath and wheeled away. She just kept grinning as he left. He could feel her old, cataract eyes on him as he walked away. He shuddered.
Walmart's inhabitants slightly scared him.
Scott ripped at his hair in frustration. Finding an escalator should NOT be this difficult. No, finding an escalator you just got off of five minutes ago should not be this difficult. He had just stepped off of the escalator going up and walked around the entire second floor, finding nothing. He had spent a good part of 30 minutes trying to re-find the escalator.
And this is why he didn't go to Walmart. All it's… corporate evil… it confused him. Didn't he pass the same bin of candy already? Who makes and buys candy in that quantity? Kids could jump in the bin and get lost! And who would they blame? Not the stupid parents who let their kids jump in, but mutants. Dun dun dun….
'Okay, Scotty-boy, first thing's first. Find out where we're going…' He mentally prepped himself. Who would know where to go?
The obvious answer was the female population. But he couldn't just out-right ask, could he?
He scouted around. He looked, not touched (because who knows where Walmart's items have been?), random items, while keeping an eye out for some kind of girl. He waited a few minutes, searching inconspicuously as he meandered around.
And finally, he saw a girl. She was an attractive girl, he had to admit. Short brown hair, green eyes, a modest-enough black tank-top, a mini-skirt.
And all the better, she carried in her hands, the exact thing Scott was looking for. His hopes rose.
"Excuse me, Miss?"
The girl turned around, looking at him funny.
"Can I help you?"
"Actually yea," he said hopefully. "Can I have that?" He pointed to the violet package.
She gave him a disgusted look. "Uh, no."
"Please, if you could, I really need it," he practically begged. Then he realized how bad that sounded. The girl turned around after giving him an incredulous glare.
"Freak…" she mumbled.
"Where'd you get it?" He called after her.
"Where do you think?" she spat back. "Sick-o."
Normally, people didn't scare Remy. He liked people, yes, he like freaking them out. But something about the people in this Walmart freaked him out. They all looked at him funny. He was gorgeous, he knew, but they knew too. And they looked at him so leech-like, like they were sucking out his youth in their cross-eyed wonderment.
He looked to his left. A girl looked away, giggling a bit. Normally, he'd smile, but she wasn't a young girl. She was a meth-addict. The sores on her face were oozing and her teeth were bucked and yellow. She smiled again. He slowly inched away.
He walked a bit more. He passed the snack section and was slowly coursing into the pet section. The area started to smell. One would think it was the pet food. But no…
A hobo came out of the pet food aisle, carrying a single cat food (Beef!) can. He started picking at the lid, popping it open, and started slurping its beefy contents like soda. He spotted Remy. And offered some food. Remy shook his head furiously and backed away. The hobo grunted. And followed.
"Gooooooood."
"No t'anks, mon ami," he backed away, holding his hands up.
"Beeeeeeeeeeefy…"
Remy bumped into a cat-food stand and proceed to run. To what section, he didn't know.
Scott breathed a sigh of relief. He now rode the escalator down after an exhausting search. Three girls' rejection, a box to the head, a Mexican worker's "No hablo ingles!" conversation, and two maps later, he found it.
Danger room could have never prepared him for this.
He looked down, a flash of brown catching his eye. A long brown cape flashed by the escalator peripheral.
"What idiot has to run in a Walmart?"
The escalator reached the bottom. Scott looked out.
"This isn't where I got on last time!"
He had finally gotten away from the demented hobo of doom (and cat food.) The mad dash across Walmart's floor plan ended in a horrific scene. People stared as Remy maneuvered between the aisles and the hobo yelled incoherent words. Cans of wet, slimy cat food were thrown, to which Remy was fortunate enough to dodge. Well, most of them, anyways. Specks of cat food clumps made its way on to the back of his trench coat. He didn't realize this until well after the hobo was gone. People tittered at him and pointed. Normally, he didn't mind girls giggling and pointing at him. But when the male gender also did the same, he started to get suspicious.
So he did the fastest clean job he could do. He grabbed the nearest box, a toy box, and scraped off the food with its edges. They wouldn't know.
This was in the toy section, where billions of kids (who, he swore to God, kept reproducing every minute) were milling around, picking up billions of toys, putting back billions of toys, running around with billions of toys, throwing billions of toys, gnawing on billions of toys, murdering each other with billions of toys…
And thus Remy's current predicament.
A sweet, young, little girl was jumping up and down, trying to reach a new generation slut Barbie doll. She must have been no more than four. Her soft brown hair was slightly curled and her emerald green eyes were fresh with unshed tears because she couldn't reach her toy.
Of course, this girl reminded Remy of Rogue.
He had to help.
And so he did.
And another child saw.
And another.
Before he knew it…
The sea of children was endless. They were all bobbing up and down, carrying each other over their heads. It was a mad wave of screaming, crying, drooling, snotting kids. They reached up for Remy's attention, pointing directions, asking-no, DEMANDING- for toys.
He slowly tried to back away.
They inched closer.
He scooted back more.
The kids began to get angry…
"Jean, ya a little slut!" Rogue admonished.
"Correction, I am a seducer. He's my boyfriend. If it were more than one guy, then I'd be a slut."
"Well, fuck, ya maight as well be Scott's personal slut, with how little clothing ya're wearin'."
"Oh Rogue, you're just jealous."
Rogue snorted. "Oh so jealous."
"Don't be mad that it worked." Jean took the ice cream container from the girls.
"Oh, lahke mine didn't! Desperation is the best motivation (1)." She swiped the container back.
"Oh, like, totally fancy Sailor Moon quote there, Rogue," Kitty giggled.
"Oh hush, Kit."
"Make sure you're able to back it up," Jean snorted, almost inhaling the ice cream.
"Oh Ah can. Ah told Remy if he didn't get them, he wouldn't get laid again."
"And we know how much Roguey likes her sex now that she's, like, touchable!" Kitty added.
"I didn't need to go that far," Jean boasted.
"But you did. Almost havin' sex to get a favor done is just goin' farther in the other direction, Grey."
"Yea, but I got more pleasure out of asking for a favor that way," she smirked smugly.
"Burn!" Kitty laughed.
"Slut."
Much of the Haagen Dazs ice cream was thrown and shoved in places where it shouldn't be conceivable.
Children can run fast. Surprisingly.
Their parents must have taken them to McDonalds and given them too many chicken nuggets. And Hi-C. Man, that shit gets you.
Remy ran long and hard. The farther he ran from the toy section, thankfully, the amount of children left chasing him decreased exponentially.
Everybody wants to use Remy. He sighed.
He stopped and leaned against a small display in the middle of the walkway. He banged his head on boxes of boxes of Kleenex.
He looked at the box of Kleenex and groaned angrily. "Why can't filles jus' use Kleenex!"
He lifted his head and threw it back. He saw a sign…
Was this it?
Remy raced towards the sign. If he was right…
He ran like the kids were after him again.
Sweet damnation. He was right. This was the aisle.
And saw another sign.
This was also the aisle…?
And another sign…
"Mon Dieu! Dere are trois o' dem?"
At long last.
He found the section. Rather, he found the sign to the section.
Scott walked proudly (for some reason) towards the sign.
He could feel it now: The glory of bringing Jean back her much needed items; her squeals of delight as her man delivered; her moans of delight as he delivered a different way…
He walked with a chest slightly puffed out. His head was held high. He marched over to the sign, looked at it a bit.
"You finally did it, Scotty-boy," he commented proudly to himself, reassuring him by the sign that this was the place he wanted.
He looked into the aisle. Yes, this was it. Victory was his.
But wait. There was… is that another sign…?
He looked into the next aisle.
And the next one…
And he found…
"Ah!" Jean winced in pain.
"You, like, okay?"
"I… I think."
"What's wrong with you? Well, besides the obvious," Rogue remarked.
Jean gave her a scathing look.
"For your information, something came through the link I have with Scott."
"Like, what kind of thing?"
"I don't know… Anger, maybe? Irritation definitely."
"Hah!" Rogue slapped her knee and hooted. "Y'know what that means, right?"
"No…" Jean narrowed her eyes suspiciously, awaiting a sarcastic comment. Kitty's eyes widened comically.
"Like, ohmygosh. Scott totally found Remy!"
"Gambit." He glared venomously.
"Scooter." Remy reproved the glance with an uncaring eye roll.
They circled each other in the middle of the aisle.
"What are you doing here? Getting your daily five-fingered discount?" Scott snarled
"Remy's just surprised y' had enough balls to get into dis aisle, Boy Scout. Everyone knows y' can't handle this stuff," Remy replied nonchalantly.
"I can handle this perfectly fine, Gambit." Scott gritted his teeth. His eye-brows visibly furrowed.
"Oh, really?"
"Always."
"Always?" Remy grinned widely and picked up a nearby light green package. He slowly turned it around, examining the labels and looking playfully at the price.
Then he hurled it at Scott.
Scott shrieked out and leaped out of the way, getting in a defensive mode quickly.
"What the hell was that for, Gambit!"
"Just seeing if y' could really handle it."
"I don't need to prove myself to someone like you," Scott replied scathingly.
"Well, then prove y'self t' Jeanie an' get her somet'in' appropriate, hein? Or is d' reason y' in here b'cause y' finally started gettin' hemorroids from th' stick up y' ass?
"You know what, Gambit, I've had enough of your-"
"Oh, what are y' gonna d' t' me, Scooter? Throw them at me? See, the difference between y' and me is Ah don't run away from dem!"
"Well, I-"
"Excuse me, sirs?" A blue vested male worker came up in the aisle next to them with a reprimanding face. "It has come to our attention that you are… disrupting some of our female members. We ask that you keep things down or you will be escorted off the premises."
They looked around, only to see a group of females at the end of the aisles, full with supplies, whispering and staring at the men.
"We're sorry, we'll keep it down," Scott promised in an authoritative tone.
The worker walked out of the aisle, head shaking in disgust.
Scott and Remy glared at each other, daring each other to speak.
It was Scott who first turned around and started looking at his three-aisles worth of opportunity. Remy smirked noticeably.
"Chicken shit," Remy murmured.
"What was that, Gambit?" he clenched a package through narrowed eyes.
"Always fit," he replied loudly, pointing at a box on his left, which truly did say "Always Fit."
Scott maneuvered his eyes suspiciously. The box really did say "Always Fit."
"Remy hopes y' didn't think he said 'Chicken shit,'" he replied innocently. "'Cause they do sound a lot alike, hein?" He started whistling.
Scott moved his eyes away, switching packages and examining its labels. "Bastard," he muttered.
He stopped his tune. "What was dat, Scoot?"
"Rat turd," he replied quickly back, eyes never leaving the back of the package. Remy continued his search down the aisle of special supplies.
"Really? Sounded like 'Bastard' t' me."
"Why yes it did, yes it did…" Scott mused. With hands casually tucked in his pant pockets, he strolled down the aisle, and into the next.
"Crazy Boy Scout." With that, Remy started whistling again.
'And she didn't have the decency to tell me exactly what to get,' he thought silently to himself. He looked at the gender forbidding aisle, hopelessly lost.
"If I were a girl…" he started off mumbling.
"Which y' are," replied a gleeful voice from the other side of the aisle.
"Shut up."
"Stop talkin' to y'self."
"Asshole."
"Stop talkin' 'bout y'self."
He rolled his eyes.
He strolled down the aisle at first, taking in all its wear. So many boxes, so many packages, so many colors, names, variations… and SCENTS?
His eyes widened. That was just… he shuddered.
He picked up a box… Everything seemed fine, until he actually read the title.
Why were there five different titles for one brand?
He looked at another one.
Again, it seemed fine. It said essentially the same thing as the previous box, except… pink? Lite? Scented? Three sizes?
No wonder there were three aisles. He smacked his head on the shelf. When he was done, he looked around exasperatedly.
And saw a girl staring at him. He faked a smile, his cheeks becoming red. He looked around, wondrously again, and thought….
He inched closer to the girl. He figured he'd ask her a few questions about what to look for, what she feels is best. Then he'd ask her opinion and see if it would compare to what Jean might need.
"So... big section for these things…" he trailed off, hoping that she would begin to talk without further prodding.
"Mm-hmm…," she trailed off, hoping he would stop talking.
"So which ones are you getting?"
She looked up in alarm and complete repulsion. And backed away.
"Freak." She walked briskly out of the aisle and into the next for her needs.
"Damnit." He banged his head on the shelf again. When he raised his head, he felt stickiness on his forehead. Why? Someone had spilt soda on the shelf he had just banged his head on. Because, people in Walmart like to do that, as we all have probably learned sometime in our Walmart Experiences. They leave their half-drunk McDonald's Coke on the shelf, and then some kids comes a long and spills it in every available orifice. Or it's the last Herbal Essence shampoo and someone has lathered the goo everywhere. That stuff's sticky.
And again, when he looked up, another girl was eyeing him curiously. He smiled again, this time more apologetic for his stupidity. She giggled.
His future brightened.
Within the last couple hours of his long, perilous journey of a lifetime, he had been rejected information by countless many. The coincidence, however, lies in all of those who have denied him his questions were, well, bitches. This one, he noticed, had an indisputable air of…friendliness. She might be the one.
He was as giddy as a school girl.
'Act cool, Scott; act more together than before… You can do it.'
He picked up a violet package, then a green package of a different brand next to it. He placed the latter down and picked up a different one. He groaned loudly, playing the victim beautifully. She looked over and saw his pained expression.
"Hard time?" she asked, slightly laughing at his desperate situation.
"Just some. How do girls do this? It's confusing." He smiled a bit, hoping to warm her up a bit.
"Years of practice. It's necessity." She shrugged indifferently, smiling a little with her eyes laughing. Scott took this as a sign to get closer to her.
"It's the first time I've ever gone in this section and it's because-"
A package hit the back of his head.
"Hey Scott Summers, Ah found some that'll help y' hemorrhoids. They're overnighters, so y' get that extra protection y' need! Did y' need Supers, aussi?" Remy's voice resonated throughout the aisle, and probably the next five as well.
And suddenly, Scott was alone in the aisle.
"Damnit, Gambit!"
"Sorry, Cyke, was I interrupting something?"
"Ass hole..." he murmured. He shoved the package back onto the shelf and stormed around angrily for a while, muttering to himself. All he needed was one girl to help him with one little thing.
But no. Gambit had to ruin it.
What's done is done. Now it's time for revenge.
A girl walked into the aisle. She was short, a little pudgy. She wore a faded and tattered sweater and sweats which were much too big for her. Her tennis shoes were grungy and were peeling off. Her hair was greasy, frizzy, and looked like she had never heard of a comb before. Her face was covered in zits and her buck teeth protruded out of her gapping open mouth. The glasses on her face kept slipping down. She bore a confused expression.
Perfect.
Scott inched closer. He played fidgety and ran a hand through his hair. The girl squinted up at him.
"Hey… there's this guy in the next aisle, who told me he thought you were cute…"
Remy stroked his goatee thoughtfully. Decisions, decisions.
He didn't want to insult her with his choices, but he also didn't want them to not be enough for Rogue. He didn't want to go cheap, Walmart brand on her, but the brand name ones were so expensive. He could very well steal, but she specifically told him not too.
She sometimes took out the fun of life.
Well, the life that didn't involve the bedroom.
He picked up a blue box, and compared it to the lighter blue box in his other hand. What the hell was the difference? They were the same little cotton swabs that you stick up the same… Remy shuddered. I guess Remy didn't realize it was the near same principal as sex, but oh well…
So this one was plastic and round… and this one was… cardboard and a straight fucking stick? Wouldn't they both hurt equally? And why would braided-action help anything? It anything, the braided-action would stain everything around it, wouldn't it?
"I personally like those," a slightly more-than-less gifted in the looks department girl was suddenly standing in his bubble. She pointed to the darker blue box. "But that's 'cuz they're cheap. The other ones, they're all smooth, so they go nicely in. And they smell a lot nicer before and after you use them." She grinned widely, her yellow bucked teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light. He flinched and a small twitch was visible surrounding his left eye. Too. Much. Information.
"Erg…C'est bon…"
"Oh! You speak French! That's so romantic! Speak to me in French! Please!" The girl tugged on his arm. Her oozing pizza face screamed (literally) with excitement. She hung herself on his trench coat lapels.
"Fille, Remy doesn't know who y' are, or who sent y' but…" Her eyes lit up.
"Oh! Who's Remy? Will I know him?"
"It's not important…"
"Oh, come on, speak some more French!" She jumped up and down.
"Remy don't know French," he said simply, still looking around, for supplies and for help.
"Tell me who Remy is!"
"Remy don't know any Remy."
"Oh you! You're so adorable! And so funny!" She started laughing. And snorting. Like a pig snorting cocaine in rock form.
"My name's Rose. Everyone says I'm as beautiful as the flower. Do you think so too?"
"Erg…"
"My parents thought that when I was born that all the blood from the womb made a design on my…"
And thus preceeded Remy completely tuning out Rose. He immediately shoved away the box that Rose detailed to him and kept the light blue box. From that same company, he grabbed all of the sizes and scents they made. He looked at the ten boxes cradled in his hand and dropped them carelessly in his basket. Rose followed him all the while, as every person's faithful Pikachu should.
"-guess that's why I'm so alone in this world, with no one to kiss my tears away," she sighed dramatically, feigning faintness, pulling a hand to her forehead and gazing up at Remy adoringly. She licked her lips "sensuously" and puckered them up slightly. It was not a desired effect as she clung to the lapels of his coat. She looked like she just sucked a lemon- a moldy lemon.
"So… what are y' doin' here?" Actually, he wanted to ask what she was still doing next to him.
"I'm just wondering what you're doing, cutie." She giggled. Was that supposed to be a joke?
"So what are you looking at? You haven't found anything yet, I see."
"I'm tryin' find stuff for my girlfriend," he emphasized.
"Well, why isn't your friend finding this stuff for herself? It is a girl's job."
Remy mentally shot himself in the head. And got a brilliant idea.
"She's at home with our kids."
Rose's eyes almost popped out. "You have kids?" She sputtered.
"Oui. A lil boy and girl. Dey d' cutest t'ings."
She visibly seizured, but quickly recovered as she yanked out his naked hand from his pocket.
"But you're not married!" a mischievous "seductive" smile coiled her face. It was just ugly.
"Yes Ah am." He pulled out a ring hanging on a chain from the inside of his shirt. It wasn't that sort of ring, but… he prayed she wouldn't look closely to it.
"What! You're married and you're hitting on another woman!"
"I was not hittin' on y'!"
"You're a sick, sick man. Leading a woman on while you have kids and a wife at home! You should be ashamed of yourself!" She hissed and shrieked at the same time. Was that even possible?
"Look y'r d' one-" Remy sputtered.
"You think you can play with girls hearts, do you? I can't believe you're such a chauvinistic pig! And to THINK I was falling for you!"
"Y' jus' started talkin' t' me!"
"Well, I won't be talking to you ever again! I'll let everyone know though, what kind of menace of a husband you are!"
She flipped her frizzy, greasy hair and flounced out of the aisle like a penguin.
Remy stood with a five boxes in his hold. "What the fuck jus' happened?"
Scott's head popped out from behind the aisle. "Shame Remy, you shouldn't be hitting on other women, especially when you're married. Let's hope Rogue doesn't hear about this." He clicked his teeth disapprovingly and shook his head, sliding back into his aisle.
Remy narrowed his eyes. Was it just him or did Scott's intrusion happen at the right moment…?
It was on.
He angrily turned around and faced the opposite side of his aisle, looking and plotting for revenge on only slightly humiliating him. He wanted something more… something that would humiliate him in front of everyone…
"Excuse me, sir?" A blue vested worker accompanied by a security guard. "We have received a complaint by a woman about a man in this section. Care to explain, sir?"
Oh, the bright light bulb that shines.
Remy looked around, peering over his shoulder and over the shoulders of the two males in front of him. He walked over to the men and motioned to whisper in their ear.
"It wasn't me, but in d' next aisle, dere's dis guy who…"
Finally, Scott was done. He had picked a pretty various, representative selection for his girlfriend, he had to admit. He spent much time choosing what he thought she would like, and narrowed down the choices pretty reasonably. He had two packages in one hand, and three boxes of some horrible, gross, icky, cotton contraptions in the other. He reviewed each one a last time, checking their prices and mentally making the calculations of how much money this was going to cost.
After a satisfied man, he turned… into a security guard and worker duo.
"Can I help you?" Scott began slowly, suspicious of the bored looks they were giving him.
"This is the second time we've had to talk to you, sir," said the worker in the vest. It was the same male who reprimanded him earlier.
"The first time was understandable, but I don't understand what I've done now."
"Sir, there's a woman who has accused you of indecency and there have been witnesses to confirm her plead."
"What? She started talking to me!"
"She is in hysterics, claiming sexual harassment."
"How?" The girl seemed nice enough… until she ran out because a package came flying at his head…
"She claims that you were hitting on her and posing… indecent conduct."
"What? She started talking to me!"
"This is quite a disturbance, sir-" the worker began.
"That's a total lie! I conducted no indecency and certainly didn't hit on her!"
"Sir," the security guard began in a gruff voice, stereotypically adjusting his belt under his pot belly, "Unless you're going to cooperate, we're going to ask you to leave the store. Failure to do so will lead you to spend a night in jail."
"But I didn't do anything!"
Scott swore that he could hear someone whistling Dixie in the other aisle, then slowly fade and diminish.
Remy.
"Sir, please leave the store or we will have to take disciplinary actions," the security guard reaffirmed.
"I'll leave once I am not at fault for this accusation!"
The guard and worker gave each other a long look.
"Sir, come with me." The guard took Scott by the elbow.
"Sir, please take your hand off of me."
"Sir, I am fully armed to force you out of this establishment."
"Sir, you are not able to without justifiable reason to!"
"Sir, failure to comply with the law enables me to use my arms on you. I suggest you comply and come with me." The guard took Scott's arm again and pushed him out of the aisle. The boxes in Scott's hands were pushed to the other arm as the guard pushed him.
"Did you get him?" A woman's voice shrieked from behind the trio.
"Miss, please, we have everything under control," the worker tried to calm her down.
"But did you get him?" she insisted, peeking over his shoulder.
The guard turned Scott around to face her. Scott looked at the ugly girl's face of surprise. This definitely wasn't the nice girl who was going to help him earlier…
"That's not him! You mean to tell me I've been waiting and you have the wrong guy!" This one obviously didn't remember Scott.
"Is this not the perpetrator, Mam?"
"No, it's not!"
"He fits the description perfectly, are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure! I was there! I was the one being hit on!"
Internally, Scott snickered. In listening to Remy's conversation, she was definitely not being hit on. In fact, she was being repelled; she just chose to ignore it.
The guard let go of Scott's elbow, yet made no attempt to apologize.
"Mam, there is no other person matching the description in this department. Whoever you are describing must have left already."
The lady was visibly angry at the outcome.
"Well, fine! Don't search for him! Don't believe me! I'll deal with this myself!" She turned around and flounced out of the aisle like a penguin.
The worker turned to Scott. "Sir, I'm sorry about-"
But Scott waved him off, semi-angrily. Because he was just that nice of a guy.
"Plenty of guys match my description. It's an easy mistake."
With that, he was left with his packages and plots for revenge that would take place.
He walked to the cash register with the least amount of people. He could see Remy almost getting to the front of the line in a different cash register. There were two people in front of him, an old lady who was currently paying in change for a pack of gum and gum cleaners. Scott tapped his foot impatiently. If he didn't get out of the store and back to the Institute before Remy did… he would never hear the end of it.
The line moved forward. Only one more person to go. Sadly, it was a hobo who was purchasing five cans of cheap cat food in Beef flavor. Poor guy.
On closer inspection… all of the cans were empty and already devoured. Scott shuddered. Something just wasn't right.
Finally, it was his turn in line. He quickly searched for Remy. He was grabbing his bag and the lady was giving him the receipt. He was about to leave. He was going to beat Scott.
Unless…
"Excuse me, but I think I saw that man shop-lift…"
She handed him the receipt and gave him a "flashing" smile.
"Have a good day, sir," said the single, elder mother. He half smiled back and backed away. Yes, Walmart's workers and shoppers definitely scared him.
He walked off, looking at the receipt, then stuffed it in his bag. The same lady that offered the basket to him before (which immediately he gave to someone else when he turned the corner) was talking to a security guard in whispers. He walked up, familiar with the receipt-check (that the employees only do every once in a while) and handed the elderly lady the receipt. The guard, however, took notice of him and looked him up and down. It was the same guard that he talked to earlier.
"Sir, we received notification that you have possibly shop-lifted. We are going to need to check your person."
'Your person?' Who says 'your person?' Cops do, I've heard 'em. Remy groaned. He was almost out the door and was about to beat Scott back home.
"Go 'head."
"Hand me you're bag, sir." Remy obliged with a shrug. The guard looked inside and a look of pure confusion came across his face. Before he could ask, Remy told him indifferently. "F' m' girlfriend."
"Uh-huh. Sir, I'm going to ask that you take off your coat and shoes."
He inwardly laughed. Even if he had stolen anything (which he would be thanking Rogue in a very special way tonight for ordering him not to) there would be no way they could find what he had stolen. Even if they had his trench coat, they wouldn't be able to find the dozen little hidden pockets he had sewn in. But, law is law, he decided (although he was just pulling that out of his ass). He shrugged off his coat, exposing his lean arms in a tight shirt and his formerly hidden lower half. Giving that to him, he bent over and untied his combat boots. He handed those to him as well.
The guard seemed confused again. He turned the coat inside out, checking and rechecking the pockets. He turned to the shoes, but could find nothing to confiscate and arrest him for.
"Sir, we are going to take you upstairs to conduct a full body search." Remy sighed.
"Why bother upstairs? Ah've got nothin' t' hide. I'll strip right now," he challenged.
"Sir, please, this is a public-" the guard began, but Remy didn't care.
"If it proves t' y' dat Ah'm not hidin' anyt'in', then Ah'll strip right here." He began taking off his shirt, showing off his beautifully toned abs and chiseled chest. He handed the warm shirt to the guard with raised eyebrows, saying 'Well, y' asked f' it.'
"Sir, please-"
"No!" cried a female voice from the surrounding crowd of overly-anxious people. "Keep it going!" Remy grinned to the women around suggestively and smiled widely to the guard. He began undoing his belt and undoing the button. Several wild screams ran over the crowd.
"Boxers or briefs?"
Moans.
"He's a boxer guy."
"But lordy, lord, please let it be briefs."
"Amen to that."
He undid the fly to his pants.
Hollers could be heard, suggestive leering could be seen. It almost made him want to do a strip tease. Almost. The last time he did it, Rogue found out… that wasn't pretty.
"Sir, we're going to ask that you leave the premises."
"Mais, y' wanted a full body search."
"Sir, we're going to ask that you assemble your clothing and leave now."
"But all these women would be left disappointed…" he fake pouted. The guard looked behind him. Another guard stood.
"Sir…"
Remy sighed. "Well, Ah guess…"
He buttoned up his pants, and buckled his belt. There were loud moans and complaints from the female population. He gave them a cast off look. "Another time, non?"
He took his shirt graciously from the guard who shoved it in his face, and placed it over his delicious torso. He slipped into his shoes and coat and took his bag. He gave a farewell solute to the guards, who were itching to escort him out. On turning around, he gave a wink to all the ladies, and strutted off.
He whistled Dixie as he found his bike and mounted. He nicely averted that situation, he had to say. But naturally, he had someone else to thank for such a scene… speaking of which…
Remy wheeled up to Scott's car. Scott was presently under the hood, looking for something amiss.
Remy honked.
Scott hit his head.
Karma was beautiful. Revenge was delicious.
"Aw, what happen t' Scooter's precious Anal-Mobile? Did someone who jus' got accused of shop-liftin' pull out random cords from your car?"
Even though we can't see Scott's eyes, we can definitely tell when he's glaring. Presently, he was glaring.
"Gambit, I swear if you did something to my car I'm going to-"
"Oh? What's that? What's that Remy hear?" Remy ignored Scott's empty threats and put a hand to his ear.
Scott stopped.
"Oh- It's d' sound of Remy beatin' y' t' d' Institute. Have fun fixin' y' scooter, Scooter." He gave him middle-fingered salute and neatly zoomed off.
Oh, it was on.
The music of wind rushing through his hair was a symphony to his ears. The trees lightly zooming by, the cars honking at him, the…
Fact that Scott Summers was speeding up behind him WAS NOT COOL.
Remy gritted his teeth. He had taken his foot off the gas for one minute and let himself coast, for some reason, and apparently it was enough time to fix a car and catch up some amount of miles.
He knew he should haven actually taken something OUT of his car. Something useful. Like… the battery. Or something.
He could see the scowl on Anal-Boy's face. He was gripping his steering wheel unnaturally… grippy. He was speeding up.
This would not do. Nope.
So Remy sped up.
And so did Scott.
And so did Remy.
Before he was abstracted by the car in front of him.
Scott sped up. And he was right next to Remy. The little Anal Boy's precious red sports car was right next to Remy. He could see the veins popping out of Scott's skull. He could feel the testosterone oozing off of him in waves. The competition was oozy. So he did the only thing he could do.
He took one hand off the wheel and lifted up his helmet.
And spit on Scott's car.
Scott panicked. It was the exact same effect as when you drop a banana in N64's Diddy Kong Racing. He spun out of control. Actually, all he did was really wobble around the lanes. But this was enough. It was Remy's chance to win.
He cut him off, passing into his lane as he wiped off the loogie with his wipers.
He honked at Remy.
Remy flipped him off.
He further sped up.
It no longer mattered how many red lights he was going through or how many people were cursing. All that mattered was Rogue.
Lies. All that mattered was winning. Victory was so close. The mansion was so close. He could see the surrounding forest. He could see the tree that he and Rogue always used to talk under. He could see the outlining form of the gazebo that he knew Rogue liked to get away to. He could see the shed that he and Rogue… He could see the top of the Mansion.
Oh, beloved Mansion, how art thou good to Remy.
He saw the mansion's brick wall fortress. He could see the windows of the Mansion. He could see…
The gates to the Mansion. He smacked his head. How could he forget? He would have to open up the gates.
He would have to get off his bike, enter his password, get back on, and beat Scott.
And yet…he knew how.
Remy raced up to the gates and swerved parallel to them. He got off his bike and leisurely, yes- leisurely, walked to the automatic panel. Scott's car was only a few seconds behind. He parked right behind Remy and awaited his next move.
Remy, began whistling as he said his name to the panel, placed his hand over the hand detector, and entered his number.
The gates began to swing open.
Remy calmly walked to his bike and sat himself on it.
The gate was fully open. Remy wasn't moving. Scott was getting angrier.
"Would you move it along, Gambit?" He hissed. Remy shushed Scott with a finger and turned on his engine.
"Patience is a virtue, mon ami." The door was closing.
The door was half way shut- much too small to get even Scott's car through.
But still big enough for Remy.
The door was closing smaller and smaller. It was a close fit. Remy zoomed through.
The gates closed.
Scott was still stuck outside. Remy was inside.
You do the math.
Scott honked as Remy waved him a victorious finger.
A man smashed the door to the living room open. He was a maniac. His clothes were ragged and cat-fooded. His hair was wind-blown and disordered. His eyes held a demented, demonic glaze over it.
His eyes searched the room. He saw them and he didn't see them. He ignored all others. Until he found her. He locked onto her with his stealthy sense and picked her out. His breathing was ragged and he gasped for air as he dropped to his knees in front of the girl. The bags he had dropped with him, its contents pouring out. He looked up at the girl, his eyes silently pleading mercy, asking redemption from the horror he was subjected to. But he was confused.
Why was she laughing?
Why was the other one laughing?
Why was they pointing and laughing at the red head?
The girl reached over to the crazed man while still laughing and smashed his head to her chest. It was nice and boobful, but he was confused. What?
"Well Jean. Ah guess Ah win."
What?
"Jean!" A voice cried out. The sound of rustling Wal-Mart bags could be heard from in the hallway.
Another young man tore through the doorway, attempting to nestle within his lover's arms. But he was stopped.
A death ray was being sent to him from the bed. He was scared. He couldn't move.
The red head was fuming. She lost. She lost because her man couldn't get here 10 seconds earlier.
"I. Lost." She seethed. Things began shaking in the room. "To her. The goth girl."
"Um, Jean?"
"Don't you Jean me. Three hours." She laughed quietly.
"I've been waiting here three hours." Things audibly rattled in the room. "All I asked was that you go to a store five minutes away and pick up something. Anything. It didn't matter what type, what color, what size."
Her eyes lifted into Scott's dead on. "All you needed to do was bring back some pads and tampons." She hissed and screamed at the same time. How is it that only girls are able to do that?
"PADS AND TAMPONS!" Her hair swirled around her.
He flinched and opened his bag to her. "I got you some p-pads… and tampons…"
And somehow he made it out the door, slamming into the hallway wall. Jean leaned out the doorway.
"And if it makes you feel any better," she began in a saccharine voice, "You just lost to Remy again."
She slammed the door. He slammed his head against the wall.
When he opened his eyes, Bobby was looking at him pitifully.
"Looks like you're not getting any for a while."
"After all d' trouble Ah went through…" he said in a monotonous voice. He lied on his bead, staring at a blank ceiling. "The meth-addicts, the hobos, the kids, the girls, the stripping… All f'nothin'."
"Oh, lawd, Rems, ya takin' this too seriously. It was just a bet." She rolled her eyes.
"Hey! Y' didn't have t' go through what Ah did!"
"Ah do! Every month! Don't ya dare start that with me!" She smacked him over the head with a pad package. "And anyways Mistah LeBeau! Ya would think after sneakin' around in mah underwear drawer you would know what kind of stuff Ah need!"
"Mais, chere…" he whined.
"Don't you dare. That ain't no excuse and ya know it. For that, ya shouldn't get any anyways. Ah'm insulted ya don't know!"
He groaned and stuffed a pillow in his face, pretending to suffocate himself. "Jus' kill me now, chere."
She scoffed. "Ah dunno what ya complainin' 'bout- it was ya manhood Ah saved."
He said nothing. She frowned. And then smirked.
"And ya did deliver well, sugah…" she put on a sensuous voice. His ears perked up. He removed the pillow.
"Really?" he mused. She stood up and straddled him on his bed.
"An' ya know what that means, right, sugah?" She bent down and kissed him. His frown slowly turned into a smirking grin.
"Y' mean it?" He asked, wagging his eyebrows. She shrugged playfully.
He moved her hips off of him and jumped off the bed.
"Remy'll get the games!" Remy sprinted out of the room.
And to think.
Most guys would want sex after such an ordeal.
She laughed.
But course, she'd blackmail him for this video game session too.
Wooooooo! Another one-shot done! My gosh! I've had this thing planned out for ages! Literally, since I wrote "Game." This does have some reference to "Game," but you could go without reading it (although I prefer you wouldn't.) I consider this a semi-sequel, but meh. Its open to interpretation. So this story took me forever to write. Like. Wow. Forever. It was on the tip of my fingertips the whole time, but I've forced myself to prioritize, and sadly, this can't be a priority all the time. I try.
About "A Lovely Absorber…." I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope you understand the meaning of the title. I was watching a Dr. Pepper commercial at home once, where a guy goes to the store for his girlfriend and comes back with stuff and a DP. The girl takes his DP and he gets all anal. So I asked my boyfriend if he would ever go buy girl stuff for me and thus…I was pregnant with story. Heh. I hope you could tell that it was about a guys trip to the feminine section of Wal-mart. I swear, that place has more than you could ever need. I think every girl who has ever shopped there for feminine needs has gotten confused by all the brands they have…And Wal-Mart's just plain scary. Umm…
Need clear up? The beginning starts with a demonic tone. The girls bicker about who's manlier. They set the bet. Jean coerces Scott with (almost) sex. Rogue plays (almost) dead and blackmails him for the video game marathons he's had with her (see Game for more details). They go in the store. Scott gets lost, Scott asks girl; Scott gets a box of pads in the face. Remy sees meth-addicts, hobos who eat animal food, a sea of kids. They meet up in the feminine section. The guards tell them to shut up. Scott's about to get help, but Remy ruins it and throws a box of pads to him. Scott tells a girl to go hit on Remy. Remy tells the girl he's married; the girl flips and calls him on sexual harassment. Instead of the cops being set on Remy, Remy sends them on Scott. Scott tells the workers Remy shop-lifted. Scott can't get his car to work. Remy beats him home. Jean is homicidal because she lost to Rogue; thus, Scott will not get any. Remy is mourning his adventure; Rogue promises him more video games. The End.
"Desperation is the best motivation" is an actual Sailor Moon quote. I'm a moonie. Sue me.
I tried not to bash too hard on the Jott thing. I'm not so much of a Jott fan, so if this was a little too mean to be neutral; I tried to play off the stereotypes given and have fun with it. I'm a Romy fan, and that's what this story was originally intended for.
I think the French is pretty elementary. I didn't put too much in there, so I think so…
I actually have some of "Tormented Sanity" done, but it's on hiatus, because well, I have writer's block. I hope this uber long story makes up for it...And I have ideas and outlines for another lil One-Shot series. So look out for that too. I'm doing the best I can. So don't maim me!
Please, please, please Review! I'd feel loved! Please?
MidniteAngelGoth
Edit: I just finally realized that the scene cut lines didn't show up all those years ago. Opps!...