I do not own the X-Men. This story is not for Profit. Go Gambit. It's your
birthday.
Gambit's Terms
Scott Summers sat sipping his coffee. A small smile played about his lips as he eyed the package on the table before him.
He thought of Gambit's face when he saw it.
He holidays had been hard on the X-Men. Half a million lunatics had been writing Fan Fiction this year and it had kept them all pretty busy.
Gambit had been hit extra hard. Everyone wanted him for something this season. Some wanted the penitent Gambit. Others wanted the happy-go-lucky snowball-throwing Gambit.
And on Christmas morning, when most of the X-Men we're just getting up to find their presents under the tree, Gambit was just getting home. He wore two days growth of beard, and an elf costume. With green pointy shoes that curled up at the ends. A little gold and green elf jacket, an adorable little green hat with white pompom, and a pair of short shorts that made the whole ensemble look like laderhosen (sp).
It had been a rough night for the Cajun who for some reason came home smelling like goats.
"No more!" Gambit had shouted as went up the stairs. "Not never and not no ways!" He insisted as everyone snickered and laughed. "Not less it's on Gambit's terms!"
Of course then his little green hat fell off and when he bent over to pick it up: RIIIIIP!
And he went a nice Christmas shade of red as the whole mansion fell in to Christmas hysterics.
Scott Summers smiled at the memory. And now there sat a new script. Wrapped in the plain brown paper that Fan Fiction Scripts arrive in and addressed to Gambit.
"We'll see." Scott thought internally.
You see, once upon a time Scott had had enough too. Scott tried to fight the power of the Fic himself. And now he knew. It was just too powerful. Too necessary. Because something surely drove those people to write them. Someone packaged them and sent them here. And once one arrives, you've really no choice, until the last page falls closed; They have you. To attempt to rebel against the script only results in one thing: Being badly written. And really, any X-Man can save the world or stop Magneto, but even Storm cant hold back the seasons. Or the sunrise. No X-Man can. It's just the order of things.
Sounds were stirring down the hall. Scott wondered who it would be. Who would get to share the joke next? Would it be Remy? Would he get to tell him to dress warm? Scott smiled. This was really good coffee.
A pair of bare feet padded in to the bathroom down the hall. Scott couldn't see who it was but he knew it wasn't Gambit. Gambit never made that much noise when he walked. A moment later the toilet flushed, the door opened and the light clicked off.
Just a moment later Storm rounded the corner. "Morning Scott." She said, pulling her already laced robe closed for just a second before realizing that it was fine the way it was, and letting it go.
Scott showed her his smile and then the package. Storm broke in to a wicked grin.
"Scott Summers! You are terrible!" She began as Scott chuckled. "Now I see why Wolverine's so horrible with you! You deserve it." But she had to laugh, and upon joining him for coffee she discovered that there was no where else she would rather spend her morning.
"It's a decent size." Storm eyed the package. "I wonder what it's about."
"Return to The North Pole" Scott offered.
Storm slapped him playfully. "Behave." She eyed him for a moment. "Besides. I like Fan Fiction. We get to do lots of things we normally wouldn't have gotten to do."
Scott looked on the verge of comment but refrained.
"That's why you're in charge." Storm thought, seeing him back down.
"I like some of it. While I'm doing it mostly. I forget a lot too. Like dreams." Scott hadn't really ever told anyone about his Fan Fiction experiences.
"When you remember them like they were dreams it's because you were not the main character." Storm explained "Supporting charectors don't need to be present to appear in fanfic. They're more like computer desktop shortcuts than the main file." Storm sipped her coffee. "That's why we remember them so vaguely. We were barely there."
Storm smiled "I like to piece all those bits together and catch sight of the story. It's almost always something pretty creative."
Scott seemed momentarily lost in thought as he tried despretly to recall if he had ever in fact been the lead in a piece of fanfic.
"A good writer can really take you places." Jubilee volunteered as she shuffled sleepily down the hall in her over sized nightshirt. "Morning 'Ro. One Eye." Then she spotted the package "Who's off to play the star?" She asked, heading for the orange juice.
"Everyone's favorite elf." Storm eyed her for her response.
"Oh, mister No-More!" She asked. "This will be good."
Scott pushed out another seat with his foot. She eased in with the pitcher of orange juice and a glass and left the refrigerator door open. Scott couldn't help himself. He stared at it until it closed naturally.
"Oh, man." Jubilee looked halfway nervous as she eyes the package. "I know who wrote this."
Scott smiled. She must be playing with them. No one understands Fan Fic. No one knows who the author is. That's absurd.
"Oh really, how's that?" He asked just looking to prove her wrong.
"You see these numbers, stamped on in the postmark?" She held up the package and pointed to a thin red line, that under closer examination was in fact a string of numbers. "These last numbers are like an author ID code. I recognize this one. I hope I'm not in it."
"Who is he?" Cyclops was suddenly incredibly interested in the package and the markings.
"He wrote that story 'Yesterday'." Jubilee said "The one where I got shot in the stomach? Everyone else had their memories wiped but me and the professor?"
They both looked at her blankly.
"Oh, right, um." She considered for a moment "Oh, right, 'Ro, remember when you and Logan went to that other world? The Rapier-Ransom Story?" She guessed.
"The Repin-Raikov Project." Scott was all ears now. "I was in that one."
"No you were not." Storm told him.
"I was too. We just didn't run in to each other. While you were off playing in the woods I was off being mentally tormented." Scott informed her in no uncertain terms.
"Oh." She recoiled. She had rather liked that story. "Why didn't you like him Jubilee?"
"Well, really, I can't say he's all bad." She hesitated. "I don't like getting shot."
"When were you shot?" Cyclops interrupted.
"Before everyone else's memories were erased!" She told him again but he just stared at her.
She continued. "And in one of his stories - Alone - He stranded me in Bishops future, tattooed that big 'm' on my eye, mutated it temporally in to Onslaught's future, and killed off all the people, and left me alone for like a year."
Scott eyed her with a new respect. "Damn." He said almost uncharacteristically.
"But I did kinda read ahead some, and the rest of the story is pretty cool. I get to live on a space station." She nodded her head thoroughly.
"Maybe we should wake Gambit up. This might be something he needs to prepare for." Scott's leadership skills had kicked in full steam.
"Or maybe he needs his rest." Storm lay a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder and eased him back in to his seat.
"This is what bites about Fan Fic." Scott said. "You never know if it's elves or evils."
"Well, based on who this author is, I'd have to say it's bound to be interesting." Storm commented, remembering that kiss she shared with Logan in the woods.
"I suppose he hasn't killed any of us." Scott commented.
Jubilee was livid. "I've seen him kill us. He just mowed us down in Yesterday. I remember being shot real well."
"You were shot?" Storm looked horrified at the suggestion.
"Aaaaarrrrgggegggeeeee!!!" Jubilee screeched in anger and stomped down the hall.
"What with her?" Scott asked Storm.
"You were here. You tell me." She shrugged.
Scott finished his coffee. "I am either going to open it myself or go wake him up." Scott decided out loud.
Storm eyed the package. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she opened it.
"NO!" She gasped but her breath was lost. Suddenly it was al though the world had slid sideways and pinned her beneath it. He claustrophobia was alive and kicking under the weight of the realization. She became rooted with fear and all feeling spiraled away from her body and down in to the earth.
"Storm!" Scott was alive with concern as he tried to steady her/ "What is it?" He breathed just barely.
She turned the script to face him.
The title read "Gambit's Terms."
And Scott too felt the blow. It was devastating and heretical. It went contrary to every doctrine imaginable. But the truth dawned on Scott Summers. He could hear Gambit's words again.
"No more! Not never and not no ways! Not less it's on Gambit's terms!"
Somehow, in some way, Gambit had managed to contact an author. And there was just no telling where this might lead. Perhaps there was no stopping him now.
"Heaven help us." He breathed. "Heaven help us all." But he was afraid it wasn't heaven that was listening.
Gambit's Terms
Scott Summers sat sipping his coffee. A small smile played about his lips as he eyed the package on the table before him.
He thought of Gambit's face when he saw it.
He holidays had been hard on the X-Men. Half a million lunatics had been writing Fan Fiction this year and it had kept them all pretty busy.
Gambit had been hit extra hard. Everyone wanted him for something this season. Some wanted the penitent Gambit. Others wanted the happy-go-lucky snowball-throwing Gambit.
And on Christmas morning, when most of the X-Men we're just getting up to find their presents under the tree, Gambit was just getting home. He wore two days growth of beard, and an elf costume. With green pointy shoes that curled up at the ends. A little gold and green elf jacket, an adorable little green hat with white pompom, and a pair of short shorts that made the whole ensemble look like laderhosen (sp).
It had been a rough night for the Cajun who for some reason came home smelling like goats.
"No more!" Gambit had shouted as went up the stairs. "Not never and not no ways!" He insisted as everyone snickered and laughed. "Not less it's on Gambit's terms!"
Of course then his little green hat fell off and when he bent over to pick it up: RIIIIIP!
And he went a nice Christmas shade of red as the whole mansion fell in to Christmas hysterics.
Scott Summers smiled at the memory. And now there sat a new script. Wrapped in the plain brown paper that Fan Fiction Scripts arrive in and addressed to Gambit.
"We'll see." Scott thought internally.
You see, once upon a time Scott had had enough too. Scott tried to fight the power of the Fic himself. And now he knew. It was just too powerful. Too necessary. Because something surely drove those people to write them. Someone packaged them and sent them here. And once one arrives, you've really no choice, until the last page falls closed; They have you. To attempt to rebel against the script only results in one thing: Being badly written. And really, any X-Man can save the world or stop Magneto, but even Storm cant hold back the seasons. Or the sunrise. No X-Man can. It's just the order of things.
Sounds were stirring down the hall. Scott wondered who it would be. Who would get to share the joke next? Would it be Remy? Would he get to tell him to dress warm? Scott smiled. This was really good coffee.
A pair of bare feet padded in to the bathroom down the hall. Scott couldn't see who it was but he knew it wasn't Gambit. Gambit never made that much noise when he walked. A moment later the toilet flushed, the door opened and the light clicked off.
Just a moment later Storm rounded the corner. "Morning Scott." She said, pulling her already laced robe closed for just a second before realizing that it was fine the way it was, and letting it go.
Scott showed her his smile and then the package. Storm broke in to a wicked grin.
"Scott Summers! You are terrible!" She began as Scott chuckled. "Now I see why Wolverine's so horrible with you! You deserve it." But she had to laugh, and upon joining him for coffee she discovered that there was no where else she would rather spend her morning.
"It's a decent size." Storm eyed the package. "I wonder what it's about."
"Return to The North Pole" Scott offered.
Storm slapped him playfully. "Behave." She eyed him for a moment. "Besides. I like Fan Fiction. We get to do lots of things we normally wouldn't have gotten to do."
Scott looked on the verge of comment but refrained.
"That's why you're in charge." Storm thought, seeing him back down.
"I like some of it. While I'm doing it mostly. I forget a lot too. Like dreams." Scott hadn't really ever told anyone about his Fan Fiction experiences.
"When you remember them like they were dreams it's because you were not the main character." Storm explained "Supporting charectors don't need to be present to appear in fanfic. They're more like computer desktop shortcuts than the main file." Storm sipped her coffee. "That's why we remember them so vaguely. We were barely there."
Storm smiled "I like to piece all those bits together and catch sight of the story. It's almost always something pretty creative."
Scott seemed momentarily lost in thought as he tried despretly to recall if he had ever in fact been the lead in a piece of fanfic.
"A good writer can really take you places." Jubilee volunteered as she shuffled sleepily down the hall in her over sized nightshirt. "Morning 'Ro. One Eye." Then she spotted the package "Who's off to play the star?" She asked, heading for the orange juice.
"Everyone's favorite elf." Storm eyed her for her response.
"Oh, mister No-More!" She asked. "This will be good."
Scott pushed out another seat with his foot. She eased in with the pitcher of orange juice and a glass and left the refrigerator door open. Scott couldn't help himself. He stared at it until it closed naturally.
"Oh, man." Jubilee looked halfway nervous as she eyes the package. "I know who wrote this."
Scott smiled. She must be playing with them. No one understands Fan Fic. No one knows who the author is. That's absurd.
"Oh really, how's that?" He asked just looking to prove her wrong.
"You see these numbers, stamped on in the postmark?" She held up the package and pointed to a thin red line, that under closer examination was in fact a string of numbers. "These last numbers are like an author ID code. I recognize this one. I hope I'm not in it."
"Who is he?" Cyclops was suddenly incredibly interested in the package and the markings.
"He wrote that story 'Yesterday'." Jubilee said "The one where I got shot in the stomach? Everyone else had their memories wiped but me and the professor?"
They both looked at her blankly.
"Oh, right, um." She considered for a moment "Oh, right, 'Ro, remember when you and Logan went to that other world? The Rapier-Ransom Story?" She guessed.
"The Repin-Raikov Project." Scott was all ears now. "I was in that one."
"No you were not." Storm told him.
"I was too. We just didn't run in to each other. While you were off playing in the woods I was off being mentally tormented." Scott informed her in no uncertain terms.
"Oh." She recoiled. She had rather liked that story. "Why didn't you like him Jubilee?"
"Well, really, I can't say he's all bad." She hesitated. "I don't like getting shot."
"When were you shot?" Cyclops interrupted.
"Before everyone else's memories were erased!" She told him again but he just stared at her.
She continued. "And in one of his stories - Alone - He stranded me in Bishops future, tattooed that big 'm' on my eye, mutated it temporally in to Onslaught's future, and killed off all the people, and left me alone for like a year."
Scott eyed her with a new respect. "Damn." He said almost uncharacteristically.
"But I did kinda read ahead some, and the rest of the story is pretty cool. I get to live on a space station." She nodded her head thoroughly.
"Maybe we should wake Gambit up. This might be something he needs to prepare for." Scott's leadership skills had kicked in full steam.
"Or maybe he needs his rest." Storm lay a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder and eased him back in to his seat.
"This is what bites about Fan Fic." Scott said. "You never know if it's elves or evils."
"Well, based on who this author is, I'd have to say it's bound to be interesting." Storm commented, remembering that kiss she shared with Logan in the woods.
"I suppose he hasn't killed any of us." Scott commented.
Jubilee was livid. "I've seen him kill us. He just mowed us down in Yesterday. I remember being shot real well."
"You were shot?" Storm looked horrified at the suggestion.
"Aaaaarrrrgggegggeeeee!!!" Jubilee screeched in anger and stomped down the hall.
"What with her?" Scott asked Storm.
"You were here. You tell me." She shrugged.
Scott finished his coffee. "I am either going to open it myself or go wake him up." Scott decided out loud.
Storm eyed the package. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she opened it.
"NO!" She gasped but her breath was lost. Suddenly it was al though the world had slid sideways and pinned her beneath it. He claustrophobia was alive and kicking under the weight of the realization. She became rooted with fear and all feeling spiraled away from her body and down in to the earth.
"Storm!" Scott was alive with concern as he tried to steady her/ "What is it?" He breathed just barely.
She turned the script to face him.
The title read "Gambit's Terms."
And Scott too felt the blow. It was devastating and heretical. It went contrary to every doctrine imaginable. But the truth dawned on Scott Summers. He could hear Gambit's words again.
"No more! Not never and not no ways! Not less it's on Gambit's terms!"
Somehow, in some way, Gambit had managed to contact an author. And there was just no telling where this might lead. Perhaps there was no stopping him now.
"Heaven help us." He breathed. "Heaven help us all." But he was afraid it wasn't heaven that was listening.