Although this story is mainly set around the animated series, Wolverine and the X-Men, it does include many references to the X-Men Comics that is why it will be placed under both Wolverine and the X-Men (Cartoons) and X-Men (Comics) categories as the same story.
Disclaimer: Wolverine and the X-Men and the X-Men Comics belong to Marvel. I own nothing.
Le Premier Chapitre ~ Hindsight (Part 1) ~ The Imprints of Louisiana
Have you ever heard one of those names that sounded like a soft melody murmured by a mockingbird, early in the morning or a name as smooth as a clear sapphire stream coursing swiftly through a colorful valley or a name that tastes as sweet as honey when it cascaded off your tongue; honey that was carefully made and freshly retrieved from a bee hive? I wish I had that type of name. A name that people would enjoy saying over and over again just to feel that innocent tingle on their tongue, but I learned long ago to stop wishing because my every wish has resulted in a violent plague that bounds to my spirit forever.
Jade, the color of my eyes. Antoinette, the matriarch of my family. Rivera, the last name of my Spanish father. de Carté, the surname of my mother, born of French blood. Jade Antoinette Rivera de Carté, one of the most wanted names in Louisiana, cursed upon me by a naïve teenager after conceiving her first and last child. This horrid infection torments my every dream, move, thought . . . breath and it will never stop until its short-lived voyage reaches its final ending and consumes me completely, eventually relinquishing my soul into the pits of hell.
There is no way to avoid this on-going perdition. It's like living in a lions den but here, not even Daniel can survive. Some people chose this destiny. They say that they "like the thrill" but I'm here to tell you that there is no thrill. That "thrill" is just an intense fear for your life that continuously burns through your skin and poisons your blood, turning it black as night, as their rage molds you into a monster, to the point where you can't tell the difference between right and wrong so you just kill. You devour everything in your path as the demons within you stare in enjoyment.
I never had a choice, a say in the way I should live this brief life on Earth. My fate was predestined like the rest of my family. This evil runs naturally through my mixed veins, entrusting me with the inescapable thirst to destroy.
I was born in a place where sin dances freely in the streets, where misery parades in every child's eyes, New Orleans. I was created by Margaux Cecile de Carté and Francisco Enrique Rivera. My mother was a member of the Thieves' Guild, an organization skilled in the art of cunning stealth and trained to lie, to hate, to do whatever it took to finish a mission on raw instincts. They roamed the slums of the Bayou, calling it home. They neighbored their hated enemies, the Assassins' Guild, an organization trained to be elite murderers. My father was a faithful ally of the Assassins' Guild and for that reason; he was killed by a thief when news circulated of the true identity of the man who impregnated my mother. As for her, she died after giving birth to me and I was raised by other members of the de Carté Clan in a house engulfed with the same demons that taught me today.
On my thirteenth birthday, I began to perform unusual powers which where later named "gifted abilities". I kept these abilities unknown to everyone I knew except for my only friend, Remy Lebeau, whose mutant powers manifested around the same time as mine. I really didn't like anyone in New Orleans. I strayed myself away from others but Remy was special.
The bond that he and I shared was beyond words. He was like a part of me when our eyes hit, like we were twined together by the forces above. I don't know if he ever felt it too or ever thought about it the way I did but I couldn't ignore. It was too strong to be hidden or held down. It was warm and tender and kind. I think that's why I was so drawn to Remy; he made me feel whole and complete, something I had never experienced before and so, overtime, we became close friends. He was the only person I could rely on or even trust in this jungle we both lived in however he did play his round of occasional trick on me and I was always so easy to fall for them but our friendship soon ended when I escaped from the clutches of the Thieves' Guild and Remy refused to come with me.
The air was moist as the fog slid through the streets of New Orleans, draining everything of its natural hue, replacing it with a dull gloom. The old brick buildings concealed in the shadows of the sky, the dark road seemed to end right in front of me as the haze compressed me into a small hollow circle of sanity. It made everything so difficult to see, it was like a cloak hiding the truths of society around me.
I forced my eyes shut as the cold morning air whisked across my olive face, throwing my hair back in a flood of black silk while my leather jacket ruffled in the angry wind. I stood there, alone, in the abandoned street, waiting for my guest to arrive. It wasn't a surprise to me that he was late, I guess you could call that his specialty but when it came down to money, he was always the first person there. He didn't care much for anything else; you could say that was the major flaw in his personality but, that was his personality. I had to accept that because that's the way he was. Remy Lebeau.
As time began to pass, an uncanny feeling built up within my chest, suggesting that he was coming after all. I let out a faint sigh and started walked down the street, still unable to see where I was going as my little circle followed. The wind pressed me back with it's immense strength like it wanted me to stay but I pushed on uneasily, ignoring it as best as I could.
I didn't care if I ended up in the middle of Mexico, I had to leave. I needed this tormenting to stop. I would walk until the soles of my boots were gone. I would walk until I dropped dead from starvation as long as it meant I wouldn't die here, not like this, not like these people I called "family", and certainly not forever.
Gradually, the low whispers of wandering eyes aroused, the clinging of plates and silverware, the swooshing of a boom against an old porch, the morning cry of young infants in a ring of harmony, and the muffled growls of merchants awakening all blended together in the shrieks of the wind. It was as if there was a silent cue for everything to happen in an endless continuum here in Louisiana and I was always caught in the middle without a specific job or task. I was just there, dwindling in someone else's shadows.
"Cheré," a staggered voice echoed through my left ear. I quickly wheeled around on my heels, already recognizing who the mysterious voice belonged to. In front of me stood a man towering over me like a giant compared to my scrawny 5'4 silhouette. I quietly froze there, admiring every angle of him. His caramel locks cut short, sweeping just below his cherry eyes, his face covered in a light cream glaze with a sharp jaw line scaling down each cheek. He wore a dark red shirt, partially hidden under a long chocolate trench coat, shivering violently in the wind, and thick metal boots burring most of his navy pants.
I looked him deep in his ruby gems as his stare burned into my own. We stayed paralyzed in time for quite some until I couldn't take the tension spouting between us so I shied my eyes away to the dirty street.
"Tonigh' I'm breakin' outta dis place an' I aint comin' back," I stated firmly, still gazing to the ground. I wanted to say more. I wanted to demand him to come with me but I was afraid, afraid that he would say no, afraid he would reject me like everyone else in this world.
I took a deep breath, feeling the cold air slowly entering my lungs. I held it there, heaping all my anguish and doubt into a mountain of frantic emotions. I knew Remy would come with me but— He had to, I assured myself. What kind of sick monster would want to live this life?
His eyebrow ascended into his upper brow with curiosity. "Uh, cheré?" He questioned, while placing a warm hand on my forehead. My skin quivered to his touch, sending a sharp prickling sensation through my entire body. It was almost painful, like my body was denying him.
My head shot up as a burning pain blazed under my cheeks, flaring them bright red and then I understood why he had touched me so . . . tenderly. I forgot breathe. My cheeks scorched even more as embarrassment took over me but my body soon eased as the large ocean of air fled from my chest. My head sunk back to the ground as silence flew over us.
With a delicate finger, he hooked my chin, tilting my head to him. "Why you look t' de ground, Jay," he asked softly, his caramel locks floating carelessly in the air. I could help but smile. I was never Jade, it was Jay but I adored the way he said my name, his Cajun ascent so thick that the "d" was lost and a simple "Jay" was substituted. Most people would get tired of having their name said wrong over and over again but I got an indescribable pleasure of hearing it by him. He made it sound, normal even though I was clearly different than most 19 year olds.
"I know ya nawt comin' but, I want ya t'," I admitted quietly, lost in my own words. The edges of his lips slid into a down casting arch as his eyes slightly dimmed. It wasn't something obvious like when eyes grow wide with fear or excitement. It was something you had to look hard to see, pass his facial expressions and his attempts to hide his real emotions, in the caves of his essence as a human being. You had to look in a place where most people don't because they're afraid to know the truth. They want to live in a lie because it makes them feel safe but that's not how I want to live my life anymore.
I wanted to live my life the right way, around people who truly cared for me but I could see it in his eyes. He wasn't one of them. My heart grew heavy with loneliness and sunk a few feet to the ground. I could feel it, anxiety taping me on the shoulder with an inviting smile but I was tired of being alone. I thought I could count on Remy but I guess they're all the same, those thieves and assassins, bitter and selfish. I don't even know why I bothered.
"I'ma thief, cheré, I do what comes natural," he stated, his words as hard as a rock hitting my face, fully conniving me of the approaching solitude I felt waiting for me. "Dere aint nothing to my concerning outside dis city."
I twisted my face in a scowl of anger then yanked my chin from his wicked fingers and took a hesitant step away from him. "But ya have a choice now. Ya don't have ta live dis life anymore," I protested, boosting the volume of my words. I felt the storm of rage pressing upward through my throat.
"Maybe, but that aint how I see it," he answered calmly. I clenched my fist at my sides, my nails piercing the inner flesh. I didn't care. This wasn't pain. True pain is losing the one you care for the most and they could care less. It stung more than snakes' venom. At least physical scars heal. Eventually the damaged tissues mend but it's not like that with the agony I know so very well. It'll never go away. It may shrink in the back of my mind, hidden by the breaths of my own lies but it'll come out and force me to wither away like a dead leaf but that's just how life is, that's how it's always been, robbing me of the innocence I always wanted to have.
"I thought ya was more than this life. I thought ya wouldda been the only one ta hear me out but you're nawt. Ya just a lie covered in sugah but I see past ya lil disguise an' I aint never fallin' fo' it again!" I yelled my monstrous tone tearing through the streets and rocketing off the old shops alongside the wind.
His face flushed red with anger as his eyebrows crashed together. "I have no idea of what ya speak of, cheré! I am de son of Jean-Luc, de heir to de Thieves' Guild, nothing lesser, Le Diable Blanc, Remy Lebeau an' I belong here an' here, I will stay." He replied, his word like fire burning any hope I had for him. He had added some base into his voice, making him sound like he had some dignity and power but he truly didn't have that, just putting up a hoax like the rest of them.
"Ya want ta be all dose things but you're nawt. You'll never be like them, I know it," I muttered with harshness sinking through my tone as I turned my back to him.
I frowned as a mixture of emotion swayed in my stomach. I was disappointed, ashamed, appalled and, alone. It hurt that it had to end like this. The only person I ever trusted in my life chose to let me slip away so easily like when you cup your hands in a river and it slithers right through your fingers and before you know it, the water's gone with rest of the stream, to venture to the ends of the Earth and pursue it's destined purpose.
"Look, I—" I began while twisting back around to him but I quickly stopped what I was about to say when I saw a blurred outline of a man disappearing in the thick fallen clouds. I started to run after him but realized that, I was trying to grasp something that was already gone so I slowed my legs, sore from standing so long, and came to a quiet halt as the wind continued to roar throughout the streets.
I closed my eyes once more as I pressed all my feelings for him deep in the caverns of my mind, wincing at the mental pain of building up those walls I tried so hard to tear down when I first met him, as the tears slipped through my eyelids and skidded along my cheeks. I knew this was a place were those emotion wouldn't get in the way of the long journey ahead.
With my revelation to Remy still trailing in the back of my head, I quickly gathered my things and took the soonest flight to New York, home of Bennett University of the Arts, one of the best fine arts colleges in the United States. A small part of me always wanted to study English Literature and become an author but New Orleans had prevented me from reaching my dreams until now. I also desperately wanted to lose my Cajun ascent and improve my poor vocabulary. I moved to New York because I knew this was a place where I could achieve my goals and erase the imprint of Louisiana on my life.
I don't think I'll ever return to New Orleans because I know things wouldn't have changed at all. I'll always be the daughter of un traître voleur. "Assassins kill Thieves. Thieves kill Assassins fo' three hundred years an' no one knows why. Dat's jus how it is." My uncle Pierre once told me as a young child. I never understood how someone could be so cruel to another and have no valid "reason" why.
I never really hated the Assassins, just never associated myself with them but I was forced to hate them so I guess a little portion of me still did but I'll never blame Assassins for who I am. They never killed my father. They never disclaimed me as a member of my own family so I should hate them, my family, for making me like this but I can't. They're just lost souls wondering in a sea of lies but that doesn't excuse anything they did to me so I refuse to go back and continue this malevolent cycle to my children or grandchildren. My own family is like a toxin with no cure. They creep up your spine, trickle through your veins, and attack your heart with no mercy. I don't want to be anything like them anymore. I just want to find who I am, not as a de Carté but as a human being without the troubles I had to haul around on my back each day. I just want to be free. I need to be free.