In F'r A Penny, In For A Pound.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to Stan Lee -worship him!-
Rating: T-for terrific
Pairing: Eventual Remy/Ro, OreO-ness.
Relation to other stories: None, independent read.
Comic-verse/movie? I'm using x-men II and III as a preface. Jean remains dead, but Scott is still alive (deals with x-men II), but there is still Warren Worthington. More comic-verse since there's characters that deal with the comics, and since I've never read a comic in my life. Also, I've twisted their backgrounds and such, so yeah, you either like it or you don't. AU.
Song: Sorry, I know you hate them. But it makes me comforted reading them in between the story. Enrique Iglesias "Tired of Being Sorry"
Reviews: -flashes smile- PUH-LEASE
I don't know why
You want to follow me tonight
When in the rest of the world
With whom I've crossed and I've quarreled
Blood. That's what it smelled like. Bunsen burners with blue flames lit the dank room, highlighting the other ghastly horrors.A Chromatin (DNA) Isolation Lab laid in the center by a laptop set to 'sleep' mode only to have previously displayed an updated OSIRIS Property Explorer. Hallow crucifixes littered one of the many operating tables, heating a metal concoction to a sweltering 256 degrees Fahrenheit. Bloodied scalpels, clamps, dissecting knives, and skin hooks laid side by side with microscopes, their substituted slides filled with blood droplets and chemically-dryed skin. It was like a film noir, only lacking in black and white...the glint of bones and organs in canonized jars made up for it. Adjacent to the spacious lab tabletop were medical beds, only these had restraints. His eyes focused on the leather cuffs that held many wrists and ankles, while the doctor did what he did best, torture. He could still see the remains of blood-dried now- from the man or woman who attempted to writhe their way free.
A scream echoed down the hall. He knew what that meant. Someone made a mistake, there were little mistakes in a place like this. He heard something new, the sound of a fast-paced strip of leather hitting bone, hitting the marrow, forever marring the man's back. He was being flogged. Heaven help him.
"You know why I chose you, Gambit?" Red on black traveled along the stained floor towards black boots, to white skin-too white, as if there was no blood beneath-, to finally rest on red orbs.
"'Cuz you have an infatuation wit' me, righ'?" He gritted his teeth, expecting a jolt from the metal collar around his neck. He dared not scream, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Nothing Happened
A crackle resonated from the other, more mechanized and emotionless than anything."I chose you because you're the best. Your skills prove to be superb-"
"I'm honored-"
The man or something far from it continued, "You're the best out of the lot, better than Viper, Brainchild, the rest," he waved slightly to motion the never-ending list as if he had a minute militia,"and yet..." he breathed, short rasps erupting from his vocal cards, "I have this feeling, what you might say, 'in the pit of my stomach' that tells me you don't want to be here," he raised an eyebrow as if questioning his loyalty.
"What makes you tink dat, mon ami?" he said, pushing a few articles to the side, to lean against the edge of the table.
"I need you to do another thing for me," his red eyes narrowed, focusing on his servant, his servant that had a remarkable talent for completing objectives with tremendous progress.
"What is it dis time?" He continued, "Nevermin', why not give it to Sabretooth? He's more of a psychopathic killer dan I am." Yes, Remy Lebeau, the best thief known to mankind was just that, a thief, not a coldblooded murderer and it seemed as of late his 'employer' liked to confuse the two professions.
"Yes, well..Sabretooth doesn't have the..." he waited for another scream to end, it was a nuisance to have to talk over the noise, he made a mental note that a man didn't need his voice box to live..."finesse. I thought you'd want redemption and so after this, your contract will be terminated." Thin, pale blue lips turned into a somewhat slant-an honest attempt at a smile perhaps?- as he stared at Gambit, 'terminated' wasn't the word to use..not in this career path. He corrected himself, "You'll be set free."
His mouth was agape, had he heard correctly?
"Pardon?"
"I need you to travel to Weschester, to retrieve information, something you're considerably good at,"
"What exactly would dat be?"
"I need you to find out about an object called, 'Cerebro'"
"What's it to you?" Too late, he gotten away with his snide remark the first time, but to ask about business that wasn't his concern, that was beyond ignoring. He felt it. The jolt as it cruised through the metal bondage through his skin, towards his skeleton damaging the nerves that were responsible for the sensitivity to pain. He convulsed as his hands shakily grabbed at the tile floor, maybe if he clawed hard enough and gritted his teeth forcefully, the pain wouldn't be so..agonizing. His body'd have to get used to it. It should've by now.
Hands clasped together in quiet contemplation. "Yes, well, it's none of your concern. Just go to Xavier's school and gain their trust. Make them tell you what the device is, how it works, and your contract will be destroyed, you'll never have to be in my control again. Free to go back to your home, your friends..." he cocked his head to the side, not waiting for an answer, "And Gambit...do be quick about this, you know how I hate to wait long." Another scream.
"'ow exactly am I goin' to walk into a school an' gain der trust, hmm?"
A woman with purple hair and purple pupils walked lightly passed him, her hands resting at her side in a somewhat militant fashion, a cat-o-nine-tailshanging weakly between her fingers. Aside from the bloodied camisole and slacks, she wore the same thing he had: a metal collar.
"Didn't you say you knew a Warren Worthington at the school?"
She bit her lip, not allowing her to speak. She nodded, her eyes staring at his metal boots rather than his face, his emotionless face that only knew how to contort in anger. "Talk to him. Pull some strings...make a record." She nodded meekly, and began to walk away-not too fast, not too slow.
"Psylocke?"
"Y..." she breathed, "yes, Mr. Essex?"
"Make it happen."
The dank room that was illuminated by the blue flames caught the red tint of eyes, lidless eyes that knew fear, and riveled in it.
cat-o-nine-tails-a whip, usually having nine knotted lines or cords fastened to a handle, used for flogging.
Let's me down so
For a thousand reasons that I know
To share forever the unrest
With all the demons I possess
Beneath the silver moon
Jean was dead, it was agonizing to think of it, one of his star pupils hidden in the ocean to never come back, to never make him smile again nor to ease Scott Summer's mind.
He had to push his personal dilemmas and sadness to the side, for the sake of the school. He needed another teacher.
"Welcome to Xavier's School for the Gifted," he heard him say to the young man, it sounded foreign to his ears, perhaps it was because he hadn't needed a new teacher in years.
"I suppose it's time you've heard a little bit more about this school..." He prepared the lecture, the speech, it'd be one he'd perfected over the years as he tried to turn mutant and human into a peaceful co-existent relationship.
"Ever since the dawn of mankind there have been people with special gifts. They have struggled to live in coexistance with humans and to find that they are anything but freaks or anything of the like with what society tells him. Quite the contrary. We house over sixty students here, hoping to hone on their skills relating to their unique powers and their strengths and weaknesses outside of their mutant gifts so that if they choose to, they can prosper outside of the school." He was pleased with his introduction. Couldn't be any better unless his faculty staff were there to add bits and pieces, especially Scott, the leader of the X-men, yet he knew that was a far stretch to hope for. He sighed. No, what Scott needed was to grieve over his wife, he needed to go to Alkali Lake and leave his sorrows in the lake where she died or else he would forever be broken.
The other teachers were at an Art Museum, much to Logan's utter abhorrence. He smiled at that.
"The teachers are off on a field trip, but you can meet the remainder students. The new term starts one week after finals, which are on Thursday and Friday. Consider this a...trial period. Is there any class you're particularily fond of teaching."
"French," he began to light a cigarette, but seeing the stern look on the headmaster's face, he opted to wait.
"Tremendous," he smiled. A true genuine smile.
"Let's meet the children then," his motorized wheelchair moved easily around the mahogany desk toward the door, his head casually turning to the side to make sure the young man was following.
Eighth and Ocean Drive
With all the vampires and their brides
We're all bloodless and blind
Girls, tons of girls in fact, sat on the floor eating out of metal bowls that contained kettle popcorn, while boys yelped to pass it on as they watched some sappy rated PG movie- since it wasn't "Movie Night" for the older teens for another five hours.
"Bobby get your own!" yelped Jubilation Lee. Her spiky jet black hair wisped to the side as she tried to move her body to allow her the ability to see the screen more clearly. The Corpse Bride was on, and yeah she liked rated R movies just like everyone else, but Tim Burton was a classic icon when it came to macabre animations.
"Come on Jubes!" Bobby screamed, his hand grabbing at the bowl hungrily. If he made some his self, he'd have to go all the way to the kitchen, go to the cupboards, find the package, remove the plastic wrap, set the timer to 3 1/2 minutes, and then wait for it to cool, that was too much! He pretended not to care and when she loosened her grip on the bowl, he grabbed a handful and crammed it in his mouth.
"Hey!"
"MMMMMM!" he teased.
Anna Marie also known as Rogue smiled sheepishly as her gloved hand ran along Bobby's hand, trying to feel the warmth of his hands, but knowing it was futile. Her smile was grim.
Katherine Pryde also known as 'Kitty' sat by her boyfriend Piotr "Peter" Rasputin also known as "Colossus," and not paying much attention to the film as she watched his smooth fingers sketch an outline of a rose.
"Ahem."
Rogue pressed pause knowing that sound before. The sound was an attention-getter, simply put, a listen-to-Charles-Xavier-introduction-lecture-news statement. The guys were reluctant to look away, while the girls were the first to stare ahead at their target, not the bald-headed man who had given each a new home, but the visitor.
The door opened, kids sauntering their way here and there carrying bags of tiny gifts from the art gift shop. Their footsteps blocked another's.
"Children, I'd like to introduce you to--"
Crash
A porcelain ship skidded along the floor and landed at the man's feet, broken in two with port bow and aft separated.
"Never pegged yo' for clumsy, petite." He crouched down, his nimble fingers grabbing the merchant trinket in two hands, cradling it from further damage.
"Remy..." Ororo whispered. She walked towards the man in the leather duster, her fingers trembling as they stopped before his face, scared to touch as if he would fall apart and fade. Her fingertips pressed lightly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips...
She heard respected "ooooohs" from the children, but it was blocked. She stared at the man who she had hoped to have never seen again. The man who had promised seven years ago that he would never leave her, who had abandoned his promise and left her to the streets, who was the source for her desolation and her tears. A flash appeared quickly, once thought to be from a bright camera, but then accompanied by a loud thunder clap. The kids shrieked at the surprise and Logan stood in a defensive stance, while Kurt Wagner blinked at Ororo in shock. Her eyes had turned from their serene blue to an empty white. She turned to flee, to run into the dense vastness of the estate to let her thoughts and her mood to dissipate. A hand stopped her.
They stood there, in a silent pose. Her eyes gazing into his, words not being exchanged, but relayed, she attempted to show how much she truly hated him for what he had done to her.
Everyone gawked, not sure what was happening.
Ororo, what is wrong, my child? Xavier sent the message telepathically to Ororo Munroe aka Storm aka Weather Goddess, the one who was always in control, yet ...not now.
She glared closer into the orbs of Remy Lebeau and seethed at the thought. Brown. His eyes were brown. "Take those off, still trying to hide behind what society thinks of you," she spat. The contacts were covering his red and black irises, his sign of being different, it was an insult...no more than an insult to mutants if she wore a wig or dyed her hair.
She didn't wait for a response, she pushed passed him and the kids separated to allow her passage to her loft. It would rain later
"I see you met Storm already, ja?" Kurt said, his tail swishing back and forth anxiously.
Remy looked at the tiny broken vessel he had still in his hands and noticed a price tag. She didn't steal it.
He felt something or some one pulling on his thoughts. He strengthened his mental shields.
Xavier pondered. Why, with a teacher with the cleanest record he had seen, be so strong against telepathic minds, and why...was Ororo, a calm heart, so unrattled by his presence?
"You'll learn more about Mr. Lebeau later, continue watching the movie, while I give our new guest a tour."
And longing for a life
Beyond the silver moon