Author's Note: This story's in an alternate universe set in the recent past - after the latest Gambit solo and IvX. I hammered this out in three days, so I apologize for any errors, but I really wanted to hurry and post this. Rogue and Gambit are supposedly on the same team again, so I wanted to get this "published" before Marvel made it moot. Enjoy!
New Orleans Horror Story
"One of yours, Rogue?"
All eyes turned towards Gambit. He stood in the door frame, careless as he pleased, with a coin flowing over his knuckles as smooth as oil. The Avengers saw his dexterity as an asset to his criminal career, but she saw a hand that could unhook her bra without pause. And had. Now he stood in her place of work – uninvited – demonstrating his talents.
Blushing, she grabbed his arm and steered him outside. "What the hell are you doin' here? Maybe you don't know, but SHIELD still has a warrant out after your little adventure in San Pedro."
"You been avoidin' my calls."
She crossed her arms triumphantly. "How the worm has turned."
"Anna…"
She relaxed her stance.
"I'm goin' home," he said. "Maybe for good… Givin' Fence my place until I decide whether or not to sell."
His eyes were unreadable and she struggled for a response.
"Ah imagine Storm's none too happy. She's losin' X-Men quicker than rats on a sinkin' ship."
"I'm just a call away. For her or you. If y'all need me, don't think I'm too far away."
"Ah know. Which is why Ah'm kinda confused about you makin' a scene over it."
He smirked and looked away. "'Cause there's a femme involved."
"Oh."
"Sorry, chere, this ain't how I wanted to tell you."
"Remy, we ain't been a thing in so long… Ah'm sorry, Ah dunno what to say… Other than good luck and be safe."
She watched him ride away on his motorcycle and was glad to return to work. Later that night, when she could no longer avoid her own thoughts, she finally called her last friend.
"A femme, Emma! A femme?! What the hell?"
"It's French for female, darling."
"Ah know that!"
"What do you expect me to say? He's an ass. You haven't been a part of his life for months now. A text would have sufficed. Showing up at your job – I expected more from him."
"That's not what Ah meant."
"I know. You would've been heartbroken if he hadn't made such a declaration in person, which is probably why he did it. Now I'll tell you something you should already know… Forget it. I can help."
"No thanks."
"Forget him. You've got work to do. Important work. Mutant lives and such."
"I know. Thanks, Em."
…
Belle stood alone in the darkness. Her thumb rubbed against the small silver key until it shone. To say she was unsure was an understatement. He'd let her down so many times already.
At length, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside their French Quarters home. Mansion, really. She was the queen of New Orleans. How many queens had known long, happy lives? No, she wouldn't think about the king fleeing as their castle burned all around her. All his stuff was in boxes on the floor. Thank heavens for hired help. He might abandon her, his wife; he might forfeit their expensive new home; but somehow she knew he'd come back for his Star Trek collectibles and favorite hoodie.
She pulled out the black jacket with a bold Saints emblem on the back. The cuffs were frayed. He'd told her that Rogue, his ex, had a habit of stealing it when they were "on a break". It was a manifestation of the cat-and-mouse game that defined their twisted romance.
Belle held it close and inhaled deeply. It didn't smell like cheap whore. Didn't smell like him, either, though. He'd probably had it dry-cleaned or… No, that wasn't like Remy. Had Rogue given him a decoy?
Upstairs, she heard a crack. Probably the floors settling.
Her vision blurred – it was dark and she still wasn't familiar with the layout. She reached for a switch but the power hadn't been turned on yet.
If she were a swindler, she could claim the unrelated series of events was a paranormal experience. People loved to think creepy old New Orleans was haunted. But if Belle couldn't kill it, she didn't believe it existed.
The sound of a slow-moving motorcycle neared the house and she promptly forgot about it.
…
One year later…
Most days, Rogue felt like she'd lost her damn mind. Her friends didn't stay dead or alive. She was constantly moving but found herself in the same place. Now that she was back with the X-Men (had she ever really left?), the roster was the same as it had been when she first joined. She'd done things, bonded with people, created fantastic memories… But nothing stuck. So either she was dreaming or insane.
Emma had left the X-Men on bad terms. Maybe she'd screwed with Rogue's mind..? Maybe she was still screwing with them.
Rogue decided she needed a break. Some time to sort things out. Mutant problems seemed pretty ordinary – Evil Brotherhood and back-taxes – so it was a good time to step away. She'd finish painting the kitchen and take that cooking class. Maybe she'd finally watch that new Netflix series everyone was talking about. See, she could do normal!
On Tuesday, after deep-cleaning her apartment, she decided to give the cooking class lessons a try. It wasn't terrible… especially after she dosed it with hot sauce.
Her cell phone buzzed. She expected work to be calling with an emergency, but it was actually Remy: one of many long-lost ex-boyfriends. They hadn't spoken – really spoken – since he'd left for New Orleans. He didn't do the social media thing and an occasional text message didn't count. So she hesitated. If he had a problem, she wasn't sure she could help.
But she had to try.
"Hey," she answered in her sexiest-casual voice.
"Rogue, this is Belle."
"Oh. Hey."
"I apologize for the abruptness of this all, but I can't find Remy and I think he may be in trouble."
"Oh!" She checked the clock and said, "Ah can be there in three hours."
"Thanks. The house ain't a safe place to meet. Do you-"
"Ah have a place." She gave Belle the address and shimmied out of her cleaning clothes and into her work uniform. Only then did she realize what she'd done – betrayed her location to a known killer.
Belle sensed her sudden discomfort and said, "I appreciate you goin' out of your way for us. If you called him for help, I don't think I'd be so obliging."
"Ah'm a hero. This is what Ah do."
"I know."
She hung up and left Rogue wondering if Belle sounded contrite or ominous.
…
For some reason, Rogue hadn't reckoned on being exhausted by the time she got there. She'd only spent all day cleaning and all evening flying at supersonic speed. So she stopped at a Starbucks, where she was instantly recognized. Someone snapped her picture and immediately posted it to social media. Hopefully this wasn't supposed to be a covert mission.
Near the house, Belle wasn't being inconspicuous, either. She'd parked her burgundy Jaguar Coupe in the driveway, which immediately triggered the silence alarm. Since Rogue was almost never in New Orleans, she'd boarded up the place and installed a private security system. An officer, dressed casually, was standing next to Belle's car window and they appeared to be having a civil conversation.
"Welcome home, wayward one!" The officer greeted.
She waved back. "Hey, Joe, sorry about this. Ah should've called to warn you."
"Ain't nothin' prettier than New Orleans at night. Runnin' into Ms. Boudreaux makes it even lovelier." He opened her car door and extended a hand to help her out. "Looks like you been gone a while, Rogue. Would you ladies like me to peek inside, make sure it's alright? I don't mind."
Belle stood, shut her door, and said: "Who's gonna hurt us?"
The grande paper-cup of mocha with cream slipped from Rogue's hand and spilled on the pavement. She'd been too stunned to catch it. Four feet away, staring straight at her – was Belle's enormous belly. She was nine months pregnant.
"You alright, chere?" Joe asked.
Belle waddled up the porch. "She's probably tired from flying so long. Let's get inside and have a seat, eh?"
Slack-jawed, she managed to thank Joe for his trouble before heading in. The air was stale, but she'd never bothered to turn off the power; and she'd previously covered the furniture with sheets to keep dust down.
"Nice place," Belle commented. "Why don't you use it more?"
Rogue blinked slowly, trying and failing to force her eyes away from the woman's engorgement. It was fake. Had to be. Criminal women often created the illusion of pregnancy in order to disarm their victims. Silently, she reached for Belle, and her hand was snatched mid-air. Belle's grip on her wrist was powerful enough to break bone, but Rogue's bones were unbreakable. All the Assassin got for her troubles was an annoyed look.
"Sorry," she said, releasing Rogue's hand. "Habit."
"Ah guess congratulations are in order."
"Don't be coy, it doesn't suit you. I know I bring you no pleasure."
"Goes both ways, sugar. So why'd you call me? Last Ah checked, y'all had a whole gang at your disposal. Or are they involved?"
"Maybe you don't recall how many times that man's walked out on me, but down here, we've got long memories."
Rogue studied her house-guest/client. Belle was one of those rare women who never seemed to age. Pretty frowning, she was beautiful when she smiled, and Rogue could see how a man like Remy would find it a worthwhile challenge. Pregnancy had served her well. She wore her belly like a badge of honor and seemed oblivious to the lustrous swell in her breasts. Her royal-blue suit had clearly been tailored to flatter her new body, and she wore minimal make-up with perfectly tussled honey hair. Emma would've been proud. She said that no matter what the situation, a girl should always look her best.
Suddenly, Rogue felt like the Betty to her Veronica. And just like the comic, Remy had ultimately chosen the high-maintenance bitch over the bubbly girl-next-door… Unless he hadn't.
Maybe the Guild was correct in their assumption that he'd abandoned her. After all, he'd done it before. But she hadn't been carrying his child back then. And he never left without a proper good-bye.
Rogue made a decision then and there to see this through. No matter how awful Belle treated her or how dangerous the situation got or how much it hurt her. Whatever had happened to Remy, wherever he'd gone: she would find him.
Between bathroom breaks and leg cramps, Belle explained everything. A year earlier, she and Remy had decided to sell their family homes and move in together. Strange things started happening right away. At first, they ignored it. Unexplained foot tracks, voices in the night, and shadows without objects all seemed perfectly harmless. But things only got worse. Remy seemed particularly effected; said he couldn't sleep. Sometimes Belle caught herself doing things that didn't make sense, but she figured it was pregnancy hormones. As she found ways to cope, he got steadily worse. He seemed obsessed with the bathroom mirror. She'd find him staring at it, sometimes muttering angrily in a language she didn't understand. One morning she woke up and he was gone.
"That's why you said the house isn't safe?" asked Rogue.
Belle nodded. "I know he's got enemies. Powerful ones – we both do. But I thought he could handle himself."
"Has it stopped? Now that he's gone?"
"Completely. We have psychic barriers that've never been compromised. People can't waltz in, either, they have to be invited. He's not been taken, he's-" She stopped suddenly, embarrassed.
"He's possessed." Rogue finished for her. "Well, he ain't gettin' any better with us sittin' here. Let's do this."
After another potty break, Belle drove her into the heart of the city. Their new house was actually an old house that had been totally restored. Rogue always knew Remy had expensive taste, but the place took her breath away. Hard-wood floors, crown molding, chandeliers, and a chef-grade kitchen where – she imagined – he made dead crawfish sing Disney tunes before they dove into soups. But this wasn't a housewarming party. She was here to work.
So she quietly followed Belle upstairs, past a powder-blue nursery, and into the room where the future nursery occupant was conceived. Yes, it was fucking awkward.
The adjourning bathroom was separated by a locked and barricaded door. Rogue removed the obstacles and turned the knob-
"Be careful!" Belle whispered.
She'd never seen her frightened before, and although it didn't scare her, she felt immense pity for this woman she hated so much. Rogue smiled; Belle gripped her shoulder; and together they stepped in.
The floor was a broken puddle raining in reverse. Across the room (maybe three steps?) was a round mirror above a white sink. The sides of the mirror and the wall around it were smeared with black finger prints. More black sludge had spilled in the sink, and inky footprints smeared over to the bathtub, where something writhed in that gross goop. Every time Rogue took a step towards the mirror, it moved back.
"Look, it's growin'!" Belle pointed to the tub.
Some sort of bony frog stretched its limbs and cried out like a baby. Instinctively, Rogue leapt to shield Belle's eyes – it was bad luck for a pregnant woman to see a corpse – but she wasn't having it. By the time she'd pulled away, the creature was a child-sized man screaming in pain. He peeled something off his face and revealed a body badly burned. One eye was completely exposed. Patchy, long hair made his lumpy head even uglier. When he spoke, the words weren't human, but somehow they understood.
"My dear sister, full of hate… You carry the Antichrist in your womb. Either I kill it or you'll wish I-"
She kicked his head, and then held him face-down in the black sludge.
"Go! Now!" She told Rogue.
She ran at the mirror, but as before, it remained out of reach. So she flew at super-sonic speed and smashed right through. Unable to stop, she kept crashing. She fell through Limbo's fire-arches, a dark stone chamber, an icy lake, a blizzard, and finally back into the bathroom wall. When she collapsed, she broke the sink and several tiles.
Everything was normal. No more upside-down water, no black sludge, no creepy little corpses. Belle was standing in the tub, bewildered and silent.
They rushed out. After barricading the door again, Rogue told her what she'd seen.
"Did you see Remy?" asked Belle.
"No, but Ah'm sure he was there. Now we know where he is."
"Where? In a dungeon under a lake and above Hell?"
"It's more than we knew before."
She groaned and threw up her hands in frustration.
"Belle… Do you have somewhere you can stay?"
"Why?"
Rogue looked pointedly at her belly.
"I ain't due for a while."
"Ah can't guarantee your safety."
"I didn't ask you to."
"If anything happens to you on my watch, Remy will never forgive me."
"Don't worry, he hates you already. All those years you kept him hangin' on with no intention of ever bein' with him. If he could've forgiven you, he would've never chosen me. So don't blame me or my baby for your mess."
If Belle hadn't been pregnant, Rogue would've punched her face.
"When Ah find Remy, I'll send him your way, but next time you can call his other super-powerful ex-girlfriend 'cause Ah am done."
She'd meant to remind Belle how much she needed her, but now Rogue remembered that she wasn't unusual – she was his type. Any woman who could easily end his life was definitely getting the left swipe. Not that they'd help. Candra, Joanna, Joelle: all powerful women who used their strength to better themselves. They weren't heroes like Rogue. They wouldn't put up with Belle's bullshit to rescue a man they couldn't enjoy. Rogue had thought that her altruism had separated her from the others; made her special; inspired him to be better. Now, she didn't know what to think.
This was not the time for an existential crisis. She had an ex to rescue!
First thing to do was find out where he was. She'd broken the mirror, so that option was out. Since he was possessed, telepathy wouldn't work, either.
It was a long shot, but she thought maybe Illyana could help. She was the Queen of Limbo, after all. Maybe she knew where the icy lake was located… or at least knew where to find the fire-arches. Otherwise Rogue was going to have to do this gumshoe thing old school by matching weather patterns to geographical characteristics. Detailed research was really not her forte.
Illyana Rasputin, also known as Magik, was a creepy magician (possibly demon-possessed) who could teleport large groups of people and control Limbo. She was also pretty awesome with the Soulsword, which is why the X-Men never bothered to examine the results of her pych eval. When the lord of Hell helped out, no one questioned their motives. And as usual, she was happy to help.
"Oh, you're looking for Purgatory," she said. "I know it well. I can take you there, but I'll warn you Rogue, it's massive. Even bigger than Limbo. You could spend decades there and still not explore it all."
"Any idea who'd want to drag Remy there?" asked Rogue.
"No. It's not like Limbo or Heaven, which have one head-honcho calling the shots. It's overseen by an ambiguous committee that never acts as long as their demands are met and their borders are respected. Like a union."
Rogue acquired a Red-Bull and they descended.
"Purgatory", as Illyana called it, was a massive underground cave. It was too dark to see, so Rogue didn't dare run or fly. They had flashlights, but that only allowed them to see a few feet. Although she couldn't see the roof, there must've been one because rocks and dust kept falling. Broken glass, wood, and bits of paper littered the ground. Where had it come from?
Eventually, Illyana said she was being paged and had to go teleport someone else. When Rogue was ready to leave, she could call. Rogue didn't believe her, but she couldn't be mad. This was duller than hell.
Bored and alone, she soldiered on.
Isolation and sensory deprivation are sure-fire ways to quickly go insane. The mind creates sounds and sights to compensate for the lack of reality. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. She heard things in the dark that never appeared. She felt a hundred malevolent eyes on her all the time. Time distorted as she braced for an assault that never came.
'…heard somebody…'
'No… I hear it, too.'
Rogue swiveled her light and called, "Who's there?"
First she heard foot-falls and then she saw a couple sharing a light source. They drew closer and Rogue recognized Belle. At first, she thought the man might've been Remy's father, Jean-Luc – he was wearing a duster, after all – but then she saw Pete Wisdom. The far-flung MI-6 agent looked as curmudgeonly as ever.
"Surprised to see me?" asked Belle.
"Ah'm more surprised you managed to find a toilet every twenty steps."
Pete said, "Please tell me you know where Gambit is! I've gotta get outta here before I make preggo cry again."
"Ah don't know. And what the hell is wrong with you? Making a pregnant woman cry!"
"Told you there'd be hell to pay," Belle said smugly.
"At this point, I would welcome our new demonic overlords!"
"Well, come on, we ain't gonna find 'm-"
An earth-shattering thud interrupted her. She hadn't imagined that. It sounded like the Titanic was trying to ram through. Howls or screams or roars filled the darkness but the acoustics made it impossible to pin-point the source. Then she heard and felt a stampede rushing all around her, but she moved her flashlight from side-to-side without ever seeing a thing. It passed. A few stragglers scurried by. The thud struck again, closer. Instinctively, they ran after the herd. The ground below rolled up and then down again; opening into a wide valley with an abandoned factory sprawling across the length of several football fields. Shadows disappeared inside. Panicked, they followed.
Rogue realized they'd made a huge mistake.
Belle and Pete were missing. The factory wasn't a factory. It was building of flesh and blood and fire. Terrified, desperate, and agonized screams assaulted her from all sides. Help me! Please! Mommy's trying to kill us! Please don't leave me here!
The walls melted down and formed a horrid, waxy ghoul. Just like the one in Belle's tub, this one was dripping with black sludge, but this one was taller, slower, and more clever. Smiling without lips or nose, it said: "Here we are… Just what I need… Come to me, girl… Come to me!"
She flew fist-first through the specter and left behind a pile of bone dust and muck.
Door after heavy door led to hallway after endless hallway. She called for Remy, Belle, Pete, anybody – but only tormented souls answered. Help me, please! Now she couldn't find her way back out. When she turned around, the landscape had changed. Hallways had replaced doors and doors had replaced hallways. The voices grew more sinister. She's not the one. Where is she?
Frustrated, Rogue screamed, "What do you want?!"
The room darkened. Where was her flashlight? She reached behind her, grabbed a flare, and was about to ignite it when shadows formed on the wall. She looked behind her to see nothing and then back to the clearly defined silhouettes.
'I think you enjoy this, Dr. Milbury.'
'I assure you, I am equally disappointed.' A man's shadow lifted a bundle… a baby?... Long, vine-like fingers reached down and received it. 'Next time, my dear.'
The newborn's shadow was carried into a bush of other vines and infants. Their cries grew weak and blended into a single, monotonous note, which melted into the steady beep of a heart monitor. They slid down the vines towards a weakening heart. A trembling hand with swollen knuckles reached for them.
'About time, Milbury,' said the woman.
But before she could devour the sinister concoction, three male shadows appeared. Rogue recognized Gambit and Professor Xavier, but who was the third? They attacked the old crone and spilled her life-blood on the earth. How had she escaped? How had she survived?
The voices had no answers, only warnings – She wants revenge.
"BELLE!" She screamed until her throat was raw, but the waddling Assassin appeared. "Get out of here! She doesn't want Remy, she never wanted Remy, she's after your baby!"
The blood drained from her face. "Pete-"
Wisdom had heard her screaming, too, and was sprinting towards them.
"Forget Pete! Illyana! ILLYANA!"
A neon puddle preceded the creepy Russian. "Someone call for-?"
From the shadows, a vine materialized and struck Illyana between the eyes. She fell back, the Soulsword spinning down the hall. Wisdom snatched it up and sliced the vine before it could strike again. Rogue put a protective arm around Belle and they jumped through the portal.
Luckily, they landed at Jean Grey High School. It appeared to be Magik's dorm. Since this was the safest place Belle could be, Rogue leapt back without a word.
Pete, Illyana, and the halls were gone. The factory was one enormous, open room with blackened walls. Strobe lights came from nowhere and disoriented her. So she lit a flare, attempting to combat the effects.
"Anna…" His voice was so soft that she barely heard it.
"Remy?!"
He was chained in the middle of the room. Obviously, he was bait for a trap, but she ran to him anyways and broke the thick cuffs around his neck and arms. He was weak from days of hunger and torture, and she had to help him stand. Tears of relief ran down his face, shattering her heart.
"You're safe now," she gently assured him.
"Get out, she'll kill you."
"Who, her?" asked Illyana. She emerged from the darkness with half a female impaled on Soulsword. Behind her, Pete followed with the other half. "I don't think she's going to be bothering anyone."
For good measure, they chopped her to thirds and put a piece in Heaven, another in Limbo, and the last in Purgatory. Remy insisted on it. He feared she had Wolverine-level healing powers and would return.
…
After Illyana had transported them all back, Remy and Belle were anxious to return home in spite of what had happened there. Rogue went with them. Her excuse was that she needed to repair the mirror and sink she'd broken – and she did – but really she wanted a moment alone with Remy. Those use to be so easy to come by. But she wasn't his sweetheart anymore… After she'd rescued him, he rushed to Belle and had stayed by her side. No one is that focused unless they're intentionally ignoring everyone else. Why was he ignoring her? She had to know. So she waited in New Orleans and eventually found an opportunity.
She and Remy were installing the sink when Belle said she felt sick and wanted to lie down.
"Can you give us fifteen minutes to finish up?" he asked.
She waved him off. "Keep going. I'll go downstairs."
Rogue screwed in the new pipe while he held the top steady. The silence threatened to turn awkward, so she asked when the baby was due.
"Next month."
"Wow, really? She's huge."
His loop-sided grin made her tummy flip. "You ain't s'posed to say that about a woman with child."
"She didn't hear me," she retorted, but lowered her voice.
Once the pipe was secure, he said, "Can we talk?"
She sat on the floor and he sat on the side of the tub – detached porcelain, of course. It was probably one of those smart-tubs that kept the water at an exact temperature. She wanted to hurl it out the window.
"Thanks for helpin'," he said. "And thanks for lookin' out for Belle. It's a comfort to know… if I wasn't around, someone would still be here for her."
"Ah'm an X-Man. Protectin' people who hate and fear me is my thing."
He smiled so the corners of his eyes crinkled. He didn't smile like that for Belle and it gave her the courage to ask: "Remy… Are you happy?"
His smile faded. "Come again..?"
"Are you happy here?" Her voice trembled. "In this haunted house. With an Assassin."
He looked away.
She took a deep breath and continued, "Ah still think about you. All the time. There's a lot Ah wish I'd done differently, but if Ah could go back, I'd warn myself that I'll never stop loving you. Ah didn't know how much you meant to me."
"Why didn't you tell me this a year ago?"
"Ah didn't know."
His jaw clenched. "What am I supposed to do with this, Anna? You want me to walk out on my pregnant wife?"
"No."
"Do you even know what you want? Or do you just say whatever's in your head with no thought for the afterward?" He stopped ranting and laughed. "Jesus, I've become my father."
She apologized and walked out of his life for good.
Just kidding.
That conversation never happened. They got as far as 'are you happy in this haunted house?' before he corrected her. Amanda Mueller, aka the Black Womb, had immortality without eternal youth. Decades ago, she'd gone to Sinister, who helped stop the aging process by extracting her fetuses. For some reason, he'd stopped, and she'd slowly grown into a living corpse. Then Mueller discovered Sinister's Cronus Machine, which would grant her eternal youth, but before she could use it, it had been destroyed. By Gambit. She waited in secret for months, for years. Then Belle presented the perfect revenge.
Remy felt Mueller watching and sometimes he caught a glimpse of her. She used the opportunity to taunt him. She bragged about coming to kill his child. And he'd let her, even invited her into the mirror, because as long as she was targeting him, she wasn't targeting Belle. As long as he gave her a little power, he could control how she used it. When he had a chance to attack her, of course he took it… and ended up trapped in Purgatory.
"Why didn't you warn Belle?" asked Rogue.
Bashfully, he said, "I didn't wanna scare her."
"Next time, how about call me?"
"But I don't hate and fear you." He smiled.
She smiled, too.
She wanted to stay until the baby came, but despite Belle's size, she would remain pregnant for another six weeks. Rogue couldn't tolerate that woman that long. She left as Tante Mattie arrived with a live chicken tucked under her arm.
"Black magic or dinner?" she asked.
"We ain't rich. This bird aims t' be both! Stay a spell, eat with us."
"With Belle serving, Ah'll end up with the testicles."
"A delicacy in some parts."
"But not here. Take care, Tante Mattie."
She waddled up the new-old driveway, singing 'Chere, mo lemme toi' to the bird she was about to slaughter. Love was like that.
…
The End.