Disclaimer: X-Men: Evolution and all related names belong to Marvel Entertainment, Inc.
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"Home is Where You Hang Your Trenchcoat"
By William Logan
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Gambit strolled through Magneto's secret headquarters like he owned the place, pulling off his brown trenchcoat and carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His metal sphere had touched down in the landing bay just a few moments before. He was still getting used to Magneto's bizarre form of transportation, but to each his own little eccentricity, Gambit thought to himself. He wandered into the control room, tossing his trenchcoat over a chair and wandering over to the large viewing screen which showed news reports from all over the world. He grinned to himself, thinking about the little present he had left for Rogue before he had departed from Bayville. He could only hope that she could read French. He turned to look at the chair situated in front of the viewing screen, a majestic chair wrought from solid steel. In it sat Magneto, his gladiator style helmet resting on his head, sitting in deep thought.
"You certainly took your time in returning, Gambit," Magneto said, at first not even looking up. Then he stood up, dramatically sweeping his cape around his form in order to appear even more imposing. It took all the control Gambit had not to chuckle at this behavior. Perhaps the master of magnetism had more than just one little eccentricity.
"I stopped for a bite t'eat, even us muties get a li'l hungry every now an' den, jou know?" Gambit flashed a charming grin, Magneto did not look amused.
"That is not what Sabretooth tells me," the gray-haired mutant said, gesturing behind Gambit, who turned to see Victor Creed step out from the shadows, a feral grin twisting his lips.
"So maybe I took a li'l side trip t'help da Rogue wit' a few thugs, is it a crime to help out m'fellow mutants?" Gambit decided to go with the "helping my fellow mutants" sales pitch, the further survival of the species seemed to be all that the mutant master of magnetism cared about.
"Sabretooth, leave us," Magneto said, watching as the enormous mutant grudgingly moved through the door, unhappy to be missing Gambit's penalty for his behavior, "Gambit, I warned you about getting too attached to the girl. They are an obstacle on the path to our dream. Xavier is pursuing a fool's goal, and must be removed to ensure the survival of our cause."
"So jou would rather have had her beaten t'death fo' bein' a mutant dan have her rescued? Somehow, dat doesn' seem t'fit wit' da rest o' jou plan," Gambit scowled, "so only da mutants da jou deem fit should survive? I heard dat kinda reasonin' befo', some guy by da name o' Monsieur Hitler." Magneto's eyes flashed angrily and his chair levitated off of the floor and crashed into Gambit, sending the red-eyed mutant tumbling. He skillfully jumped back to his feet. Looks like I hit a sore spot, Gambit thought to himself.
"You dare compare me to that monster?" Magneto's tone was a dangerous one, "it would be best that you watched your tongue from now on, or you will face my full wrath."
"No problem, mon capitan," Gambit muttered, rubbing at his arm, "am I free t'go now?"
"Leave if you wish," Magneto said coldly, "but do not enter my presence again until you are summoned." With a bow, Gambit wandered off to his quarters, avoiding the eyes of the other Acolytes as he passed them in the hall. He stripped off his uniform and looked at himself in the mirror, frowning as he saw the rather large bruise in his side that the chair had left on him.
"Dat's gonna hurt," he murmured, getting into civilian clothes, consisting of a pair of tattered jeans and a New Orleans Saints jersey. He flopped onto his cot, rubbing at his forehead. So Sabretooth had been tracking Gambit's movements for Magneto the whole time. That was just great, that meant further visits to the lovely Rogue were completely off limits. Things had become so difficult the moment he had been brought here to Magneto's citadel. He had no freedom to go where he chose, to do what he wanted to do. Of course, Gambit hadn't enjoyed the freedom of wandering the streets of New Orleans much, either. There must be some sort of delicate medium, he thought with a sigh. Now, if only he could find a place that would give him freedom to talk to whom he pleased, to do what he liked, but still feel like he was at home with the people he was around.
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FIN
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"Home is Where You Hang Your Trenchcoat"
By William Logan
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Gambit strolled through Magneto's secret headquarters like he owned the place, pulling off his brown trenchcoat and carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His metal sphere had touched down in the landing bay just a few moments before. He was still getting used to Magneto's bizarre form of transportation, but to each his own little eccentricity, Gambit thought to himself. He wandered into the control room, tossing his trenchcoat over a chair and wandering over to the large viewing screen which showed news reports from all over the world. He grinned to himself, thinking about the little present he had left for Rogue before he had departed from Bayville. He could only hope that she could read French. He turned to look at the chair situated in front of the viewing screen, a majestic chair wrought from solid steel. In it sat Magneto, his gladiator style helmet resting on his head, sitting in deep thought.
"You certainly took your time in returning, Gambit," Magneto said, at first not even looking up. Then he stood up, dramatically sweeping his cape around his form in order to appear even more imposing. It took all the control Gambit had not to chuckle at this behavior. Perhaps the master of magnetism had more than just one little eccentricity.
"I stopped for a bite t'eat, even us muties get a li'l hungry every now an' den, jou know?" Gambit flashed a charming grin, Magneto did not look amused.
"That is not what Sabretooth tells me," the gray-haired mutant said, gesturing behind Gambit, who turned to see Victor Creed step out from the shadows, a feral grin twisting his lips.
"So maybe I took a li'l side trip t'help da Rogue wit' a few thugs, is it a crime to help out m'fellow mutants?" Gambit decided to go with the "helping my fellow mutants" sales pitch, the further survival of the species seemed to be all that the mutant master of magnetism cared about.
"Sabretooth, leave us," Magneto said, watching as the enormous mutant grudgingly moved through the door, unhappy to be missing Gambit's penalty for his behavior, "Gambit, I warned you about getting too attached to the girl. They are an obstacle on the path to our dream. Xavier is pursuing a fool's goal, and must be removed to ensure the survival of our cause."
"So jou would rather have had her beaten t'death fo' bein' a mutant dan have her rescued? Somehow, dat doesn' seem t'fit wit' da rest o' jou plan," Gambit scowled, "so only da mutants da jou deem fit should survive? I heard dat kinda reasonin' befo', some guy by da name o' Monsieur Hitler." Magneto's eyes flashed angrily and his chair levitated off of the floor and crashed into Gambit, sending the red-eyed mutant tumbling. He skillfully jumped back to his feet. Looks like I hit a sore spot, Gambit thought to himself.
"You dare compare me to that monster?" Magneto's tone was a dangerous one, "it would be best that you watched your tongue from now on, or you will face my full wrath."
"No problem, mon capitan," Gambit muttered, rubbing at his arm, "am I free t'go now?"
"Leave if you wish," Magneto said coldly, "but do not enter my presence again until you are summoned." With a bow, Gambit wandered off to his quarters, avoiding the eyes of the other Acolytes as he passed them in the hall. He stripped off his uniform and looked at himself in the mirror, frowning as he saw the rather large bruise in his side that the chair had left on him.
"Dat's gonna hurt," he murmured, getting into civilian clothes, consisting of a pair of tattered jeans and a New Orleans Saints jersey. He flopped onto his cot, rubbing at his forehead. So Sabretooth had been tracking Gambit's movements for Magneto the whole time. That was just great, that meant further visits to the lovely Rogue were completely off limits. Things had become so difficult the moment he had been brought here to Magneto's citadel. He had no freedom to go where he chose, to do what he wanted to do. Of course, Gambit hadn't enjoyed the freedom of wandering the streets of New Orleans much, either. There must be some sort of delicate medium, he thought with a sigh. Now, if only he could find a place that would give him freedom to talk to whom he pleased, to do what he liked, but still feel like he was at home with the people he was around.
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FIN
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