Authors Note: This is my very first fan fic. I love the Remy/Ororo romantic fanfics, and if you like it I'll contiue it. I have trouble with the accents, but I'll figure it out. OH, and I don't own any of the characters of Marvel.
The Dynasty
Heavy breathing and hard footsteps echoed throughout the dark cold streets. Around the corner and behind the huge dumpster, the little girl hid until her predators had disappeared. The air had a chill that went straight through one's bones. Ororo could vouch for that. She had been out on the streets for as long as she could remember…well not really. She did have distinct memories of a woman, with long flowing white hair that was reminiscent of her own. She also remembered she had a home, at least she thought she did. A cozy little place with zooming cars, lots and lots of people, and the biggest buildings she had ever seen. She thought she remembered a man who would carry her to a big comfy bed that she seemed to get lost in until the very next morning. She thought she remembered that stuff.
Aw hell, what did she know, that memory was six years ago. Six years ago to that day. "Twelve," she thought aloud. Twelve years old already, and all she knew was that home was a cardboard box in that familiar back alley. Ororo played with the tiny gold locket in between her rough fingers. They say you can tell how hard a person has had to work in their lifetime by looking at their hands. And indeed, Ororo had had a hard one. Being a pickpocket and thief was hard work, and she was considered the best of the best!
"Oh well," she thought. "This'll get me at least two hundred dollars." Sure she was safe and free from harm, Ororo curled in the familiar box and covered herself in a few blankets she had found in a nearby dumpster. A new day was dawning and she knew she had to get mentally ready for the vicious cycle of hunger, poverty, and the yearning to find a real home. With her new locket buried safe in her clothing, Ororo rolled into a ball and decided to cry herself to sleep. Rain…it always rained when she cried.
"Come on LeBeau you're slacking! What in the hell am I going to do with this?" The big burly man-beast threw the bag of stolen car parts on the ground.
Perplexed and quite offended, the eighteen year old picked up his findings and dusted them off. "Like Remy care. Jus' gimme my money mon ami so Remy be on his way."
Victor Creed eyeballed the bold young man who was his most important employee. Remy LeBeau could steal, take, charm, find, or obtain anything from anybody at anytime. His cockiness, mysteriousness, and nonchalant attitude, however, always rubbed Creed the wrong way. But this time, this chump had gone too far. Who the hell was this kid to bring such lackluster items to his shop and demand payment?! It was time to separate the boys from the men. With a huge growl and a quick sweep of his hand, Creed had LeBeau dangling six feet off of the ground.
"Rrrr, you listen to me you little piss ant. Nobody, but NOBODY talks to me like that! If you ever try to manipulate me like that again I will literally rip your face off and shove it where the sun don't shine. You got that punk?"
Gasping for air, Remy only had enough strength to whisper a barely audible "Oui."
"Good, now get the hell out of my face! And don't forget to take your scrapes with ya'" he said as he kicked the metal scrapes violently to teenage boy.
With a bruised body, but more importantly a bruised ego, Remy left like a dog with its tail between his legs. Sure he could've tried to take Creed on, but being a hustler he knew never to bite the hand that fed him. Creed was the number one looter in all of New Orleans. Right below the local mafia and the drug dealers, Creed was the man to work for. Sure he never made as much as he could with the mafia and drug dealers, but at least he didn't have to kill people to make a few bucks. A thief was what he was and he had no intention of changing for anyone. So he'd take the verbal and physical abuse for awhile, just until he got his own business up and running.
"One day, one day Remy'll have his own," he swore aloud. Remy maneuvered his way down the dark street with his bag of junk behind him ready to call it a night. Suddenly he stopped and looked upward at the sky. "Damn, rainin' again. Why it always got ta' rain when tings don't go Remy's way?" he pondered aloud. Little did he know, his question would soon be answered.