Meeting in Vegas
The sounds of Las Vegas were deafening, even with it only being noon. The laughter of young, drunk women, celebrating a Twenty-first birthday. The hollars of victory and the moans of defeat, came poruing out of each casino. Scantly clad females lined the strip, waving and smiling at men of all ages.
"This is Remy's kinda place."
Remy LeBeau walked down the Vegas strip, his eyes glowing under the shadow of his bangs. Signature trench coat open to allow the warm dessert breeze in, and for the ladies to admire the french man's body. A body that was clearly visable through the thin white button-up shirt that fit snuggly against his torso.
He stopped on a corner, waiting for the CrossWalk light to change. He sent a flirtacious smirk towards a group of women no older than 23. When they giggled and waved back, he tipped his fadora to them. Glancing around him at all the people, he turned his attention towards the casino across the street. The Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. The place he was staying at while on vacation, all expenses paid for by a certain bald Telepath. The wicked grin that had been plastered on his at the damage he could do with the Two Grand he had been given, suddenly disappeared as something caught the corner of his left eye.
Out of all the bright lights and colorful outfits, one person stuck out to him. A girl that looked to be about to his shoulder, pale skinned and dark brown hair. But the thing that set her out was that she was covered head-to-toe in a dark trench coat with a hood drapped gently over her head, hiding her eyes. She must of senses his eyes on her, as her head whipped up to meet his gaze, their eyes connected for a brief second, red on shocking electric purple eyes. The energy flowing through Remy surged for the briefest of moments.
Remy took a step towards her but she darted into the crowds as the CrossWalk light changed to 'Go'. Once over to the other side of the street, he looked around him, using his height to look over most people's heads. But he couldn't spot her from the crowd.
"Hmmm," Remy brought his fingers to his chin, playing with his goatee, "where did that lil' mouse run off to?"
-2 a.m.-
"Oh, boy! Remy definatly will be leaving richer than when he arrived." Remy patted his bulging back pocket, where Twenty-two grand sat, burning a hole in his pocket. He had just finished off his second rounding of all the casinos on the main strip, entering the Hard Rock's hotel lobby, and was planning on getting a quick shower and changing before heading out again to find a lady to spend the rest of the night with.
His ears perked at the sounds of yelling coming from the elevator that was decending. He could distinctly hear a young woman and an older, much older, man's voice. He couldn't hear what they were saying for the elevator muffled it to a slur of words. So, Remy stood infornt of the doors, ready to fight if need be, waiting for the doors to open.
When the bell finally dinged and the doors opened, Remy's eyes open wide with surprise. In the elevator, one of the hotel's security guards was standing there, in an expenisve looking suit that had been ripped in a few places, with his hands restraining the women's arms behind her. Her hood was down and her coat halfway down her arms. Her hair was a mess, panting from the obvious struggle they'd had on the way down the elevator shaft. But as her head snapped up noticing the feet infront of her, her bright eyes widened in recognition and a mischiveous smirk spread across her face, before slipping into a worried expression.
"Brother, please! Tell them I wasn't breaking into the room!" Her pleading eyes begging Remy to go along with the lie.
The guard looked to Remy as the two stepped out of the elevator, its doors closing behind them. Looking up and down at him, his eyes squinted in thought.
"Sir, is this really your sister?" He asked, pushing her forward slightly as a show of his speculation.
Nodding quickly, changing into the role of big, protective brother easily, he stepped forward. "Yea, sir. That be's my bab' sista there. Now would you be so kind as ta tell me why you have her hackled as if she's a wanted criminal?" His eyes glowed a dark blood red, arms crossing over his chest while his feet spread apart in a stance he normally used against enemies when he was on missions.
"She was caught trying to pick the lock on one of the rooms upstairs. Said that she had lost her key, but when we tried to pull her bill up, we couldn't find her name anywhere in our databases.
Sighing, Remy shook his head in fake-relief. He smiled at the large man, running his hand through his long locks. "Ah, is that all? Petit, what did I tell ya before I left ya this afternoon? I apologize sir, ya see' Remy brought his sista here for her birthday, but the room is only in my name, not both, for I was trying not to have ta pay for the extra person until I had won enough in the casino's ta pay."
His hand rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "I guess I'll have to pay an extra fee for lyin, no?"
Zack, as Remy had finally caught sight of the security guards name tag, stood in silence, obviously thinking over his words. After a few minutes, he nodded his head.
"Alright," looking between the two, "I'll take your word on this, but I'd like your room number and name so I can confirm this with my supervisor."
The woman in his arms sighed in relief as he released her wrist. She snatched her arms away and quickly scooted over to Remy, hiding behind his broad back. Up so close, he could smell whiskey and tequila wafting off her, but the distinct aroma of Honeysuckles and Sunflowers was still strong through that.
"See? I told you I was staying here! You big Oaf!" Her spunk at mouthing off the large man made Remy's interest in the small frame next to him, along with the southern accent that could only be from somewhere from the Bayou. "I'd like to see how you'd take being down home in the south. We don't take to kindly to Meat-Heads roughin up young ladies." Her arms crossed defiantly as she gave a look to him that would have made most men cring.
"Now now, lil' sista'," Remy patted her head, taking the chance to run his fingers through her hair as he rubbed the crown, messing her hair up even worse. "The man was only doing his job. You should of been more careful to keep up with ya key, ya know?"
The kiiling intent she pushed in his direction made him remove his hand quickly, resting it on her shoulder. "So, our room number is 666 and my name, sir, be's Remy LeBeau."
"Alright, but I also need your name missy so I can add you to the bill."
For a split second, Remy's mind spazzed out. He didn't think about that part. But then, the woman curtsied with an exagerrated southern belle drawl. "Bille-Jo LeBeau," when she stood up, her eyes seemed to have gotten larger and darker, eyelashes fluttering flirtaciously, "a pleasure to make your acqantince."
Zack straightened up slightly and his face took a noticably darker shade. "Umm, yes. The same to you, Miss Billie-Jo. I do hope that you accept my apology for being so harsh. As your brother here mentioned, I was only doing my job."
She took a slow step forward and ran a hand over his chest, licking her lips. She leaned in against him, left leg sliding between both of his. Blinking a few quick times, her face split in half with a smile that would put them Cheshire Cat to shame. Swiftly, she brought her knee up, connecting to the juncture of his thighs. He doubled over onto the floor, hitting his knees on the floor.
"Arsehole! That's for the bruises on my wrist that your fingers made." She turned quickly into the elevator that had opened seconds after pressing the up button. Looking over her shoulder, she nodded to Remy. "Well? Are you coming, Big Broooother?"
The laughter in her eyes made them sparkle and he smirked. Stepping over the wheeping man, he shook his head in sympathy for the man. He walked into the elevator and pressed the number 7 button, effectively closing the door.
When the light above the doors turned to the '3', Remy looked over to access just what he had gotten ahold of. Billie-Jo looked to be a woman in her early to mid-Twenties, dark brown hair with multi-colored streaks. Her skin had a light tan, which was most likely from her southern life that she had briefly mentioned. Her eyes were still strikingly beautiful, with their bright purple irises. He couldn't help but wonder if it was contacts or some gemetic floop. His eyes moved lower to her clothed body. A intricate, but simple choker with beads graced her neck.
She had on black gloves that went up her arms just a little past her wrist. A short sleeved black shirt came down to her bottom rib, fitting loosely against her gracious chest and torso. Over her stomach was a black fishnet under shirt, with a wide dark purple velvet belt sitting on her small waist. The belt obviously only for fashion as her skirt sat securely on her well-developed hips. Soft, black leather came down to mid-thigh, flaring out slightly the farther down it went. Toned legs were covered from knees down in brown leather boots.
This was definatly a woman that could give him a run for all the money he had earned tonight and then some.
"So, you just gonna stare my body up and down, all night, or are you gonna introduce ya self, Swamp Rat?"
His eyes shot up to her face, slight blush crossing his cheeks at being caught red-handed checking her out. A chuckle came from deep in his chest at the nickname she had called him, that so many people at the mansion called him.
"Much apologies, chérie." He took off his fadora, bowing and kissing her knuckles through her gloves. He looked up at her, famous charming smile lighting up his face. "The names Remy Etienne LeBeau, but Remy's friends prefer to call 'em Gambit." He stood back up, placing his hat back upon his head as the door dinged, alerting them that they had arrived at their destined floor. Allowing her to exit before him, he smiled gently at her, "After you, chérie."
Waving her hand as a way to shush him, she walked out of the elevator into the hallway. She turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips. "Now don't be callin me chérie. I have a name. It's Billie, and if I had friends, they'd call me Billie-Jo."
Remy arched an eyebrow at her. "Now what do you mean, if you had any friends? Surely a young petit as beautiful as yourself has at least a few friends, no?"
She visibly sunk into herself. Her gaze falling to the floor. Her immediate depression washed over him, making him instantly regret his statement.
"No, I have no friends. I can't afford to have friends. It's to dangerous..." She looked up at him, then looked away, rubbing her eyes swiftly with the back of her hand. "It doesn't matter if I have friends, anyways. I guess I should repay you somehow for sticking your neck out for a total stranger." Her cheeks turned red at the thought of what a guy like him would probably want as payment.
Remy smiled, bringing his hand up his chin to fiddle with the hairs on his chin. After a few seconds, his smile brightened and he started walking down the hall, motioning her to follow.
She followed him a few steps behind, head bowed. He looked over his shoulder at her, and inwardly laughed of what he knew was going through her mind. As he got to the room door, she looked up. Surprised to see his room number really was 666, considering most hotels skip this number, but then again, it was Vegas.
He opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first. To say she was surprised that the room was covered in playing cards, dice and poker chips was an understatement. She looked curiously at him before he shrugged his shoulders.
"What can Remy say? He likes gambling." After shutting the door and making sure the Do Not Disturb sign was on the outside, he turned towards the bathroom. Billie sat on the bed, noticing the softness of it. The sound of the shower drew her attention to the bathroom where Remy was just coming out.
"Alright, you get you a shower while I go down stairs to the store and get you some clothes." Remy couldn't hold back the hearty laugh that came at the confusion on her face. He walked over and sat next to her on the bed, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulders but she stiffened so he put it on the bed behind her. "I could smell the alcohol and sweat on you before we got in the elevator. From the looks of you, you've been on the road with little to no money. So this is how you can repay me." He stood up and held out a hand to her. "Let Remy get you all clean and dolled up and allow me to take you out to dinner so Remy can get to know his 'sista'."
Billie stared at his hand then with a heavy sigh, shook her head. "I-I cant... Remy there's something you should know about me."
Pulling up a chair from the table infront of the window, he straddled it and rested his forearms on it. "Alright, Remy's listening." He stared directly into her eyes, basically daring her to try and look away.
Her hands rung themselves as she finally broke away from his eyes. "Remy, I'm not human. I'm a mutant. With dangerous powers." She braced herself from yelling, hits, or even him just running out the door. When she heard the chair scoot towards the side, she braced herself for everything but what was coming.
"Alright, so are ou gonna get in the shower or is Remy going to have to strip chérie down his self and put you in there?" The amusement that was on his face when she gasped and stared at him in disbelief. "What? You think Remy's eyes are for show?"
Standing up and walking over to him, she got her first real look at his eyes. The irises glowed a dull red, while the whites were, well, black. They were other worldly hypnotising.
"So? What's your power then? If you're a mutant as well." She stood back to give him a chance to do whatever was his power.
He picked up a poker chip. "Well, Remy takes the potential energy in an object, say this poker chip," he walks over the window opening it, "and convert it to kinetic energy thus," he crumbled it into pieces before using his powers to charge the little pieces, his eyes glowing brightly, "Remy 'charges' that item with explosive results."
He tossed the pieces out the window where they ignited into dozens of powerful enough explosions to make her stumble ontop of the bed. Remy shut the window and sat next to her as she brought herself up, slipping her legs beneath her.
"So you can basically take anything and make it a bomb?" She looked at him with smirk. "That must come in handy."
Nodding, he placed his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his up turned palm of his left hand. "Well, are you going to show Remy yours, chérie?" He noted the nervous look on her face.
"I can't show you with out hurting you. Mt mutation is my skin. When I touch someone's skin, I absorb part of them. Their memories, thoughts, basically their entire psyche. If they're humans, I kill them within seconds..." Pausing, she looked into his eyes.
"And if they be of Mutant origins?" The curiousity evident in his unique eyes.
"Then, when I touch them, not only to I take their psyche, but I take their abilities, as well. Although, luckily for mutants, there's a few second window before I suck the life out of them." Her hands clasped each other in her lap, rubbing her thumbs against one another. "But it's still only about 4 seconds before that happens. So I guess now, you see why I don't have any friends," shruggs her shoulders and gets up, facing him, "I mean, who'd be crazy enough to be friends with someone that can kill them, right?"
Her shoulders slump as she leans over. "And to make it worse, even if they do survive contact with me, they end up going crazy cause I make them relive there worst, most traumatizing memories, over and over. The longer hold I have on them, the longer they have them." A tear ran down her cheek, "How horrible of a person am I? Not only can I kill people by just brushing my skin against theirs, but if they don't die, they wish they we're..."
Standing up, Remy grabs her hands and places them on his chest. "Actually, petit, Remy has a friend that has a power quite similar to yours. The only two differences are that she doesn't make them relive their bad memories but they do end up normally either unconcious or in a coma."
Without looking at him, she sniffled and wiped a tear away, "Heh ya, and what's ta otha' difference?" Her voice seemed to lack its spunk, her southern drawl thickening with the forced whisper.
His right hand came up slipping beneath the hair shadowing her face and cupped her cheek, noticing her flinch before realization of his gloves settled over her. Lifting her head up, he rubbed his thumb against her cheek, wiping away at the tears. "The other difference, chérie, is that Rogue, she has learned to control her mutation with the help of the people back where we live." He brought both hands up to cup her face, holding it gently in his palms, "and if you really still want to repay Remy, then come back with him. The greatest thing you could give as payment would be learning to control your powers."
After a few moments of silent staring at each other, Billie broke the silence with a slight clearing of her throat. She looked down at her feet for a second then rushed up to Remy, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. She burried her face into his chest, breathing in his spicy scent. He slowly wrapped his arms around her small shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head. He didn't need to hear her speak to know what she was thinking.
He tilted his head down so his mouth was next to her ear, gently pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered to her, "Don't ever worry about being careful around Remy, alright, chérie? Remy ain't like other people, he's immune to Rogue's mutation, so why shouldn't he be to yours, as well, no?"
The next morning, the two of them we're walking out the Hard Rock's front door. After waiting for 5 minutes on valet to bring Remy's bike around, Remy opened up the saddle bags, stuffing the bags into them before securing the straps tightly over them. He lifted his leg, swinging it over the seat, straddling it and standing the bike up after kicking up the Kickstand. He looked over to Billie standing to his side, fidgetting with her gloves.
He smiled at her before reaching behind him and grabbing the Blood red helmet with King and Queen of Hearts cards on each side, and a purple face shield, slipping it on over his head and buckiling it. Then, he reached again, brought up the new helmet, to place it on the gas tank. It was bright blue wings gold, silver, and black flames wrapping around it. The back had 'Nightmare' painted in caligraphy on it. After swiftly pulling it onto her head, she grabbed his shoulder as leverage and swung her leg over, now sporting tight black leather pants, and sat behind him. Zipping up her equally new tight leather jacket, she hugged his waist.
The engine started up and he looked over his shoulder at her. Purple eyes sparkled in joy at him as he nodded and turned the throttle. They pulled out of the hotel drive and merged into traffic. The headed east, starting the 2,500 something mile long ride to Westchester, and from there, The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.
