Hi again readers. It's been a whole week already, time does fly, but I sort of like this weekly writing pace. It means I can work on this little by little over seven days which is just enough time for a decent chapter. Anyway here's the poem I scribbled in the back of my English jotter. It's sort of where I got the title's name from and it very nearly fits the ideas I'm trying to convey in this story. You can skip it if you want obviously. Poetry isn't a particular strong point in my creative artillery.
Of Aces and Queens!
Cried the gambling man,
In grunts and in screams,
But faster he ran.
He scattered his money where ever he went,
Leaving a trail,
-A strong sort of scent.
For Aces and Queens,
Gave the dealer's fair hand,
And thrust them upon,
The travelling band
The piper, he played with all of his might.
But what use are games?
When there's no sound,
Or no sight
My Aces and Queens,
Croaked an artist a-painting,
Although you could choose,
With much contemplating.
Hearts, and diamonds, pretty they are,
You could bet anything,
Worth pennies or stars.
Aces and Queens, the truth be told,
Black and red figures, neither young nor old,
Each number, it sparkles, when you turn away,
Each face smiles strangely all through the day.
Never forget the games you once knew,
You'll never know what's wrong or what's true.
Chapter 2 Not my day
"What's eating at Gumbo?" murmured Wolverine as Gambit sulked past. He'd lost all of his spirits the day everyone else was enjoying the sun. For two days he'd been unresponsive and gloomy. As much as he found the Cajun annoying, he couldn't help but worry... just a little bit.
"He won't talk to anyone," piped in Jubilee. She was tinkering with a games console, attempting to beat some exceptional high score.
The irritating sound of pressing buttons became more frequent as she approached the boss level. Then just as she overtook the almighty high score, sparks started flying round the room. Wolverine sighed to Storm, who watched the event, entirely aware of the inevitable.
Bang!
Logan turned to see the girl, immersed in flakes of metal. "That's the third time this month, kid."
"Do you know how expensive this is getting?" she muttered, almost to herself. She dusted down her bright yellow jacket. Jubilee was aware that she wasn't gaining any control of her powers. It was entirely possible they were becoming stronger and more unstable by the day.
"You'll learn eventually, child," said Storm. She stood up and wrapped her arm round the distraught teenager. "We shall have to tidy this up."
Storm lead her out of the room to fetch a bag to put the remains in. Wolverine returned his attention to the television. It displayed yet more images of anti-mutant hysteria.
"When are they gunna learn?" he muttered.
The door opened again. Rogue thundered in. Her movements were heavy and deliberate, yet at the same time she seemed to be as skittish and as unpredictable as a rabbit attempting to avoid a fox. She twirled a curl of hair around a finger as she glanced around the room. Even the way she stepped around the sofa, was oddly out of character.
"Evenin'," she said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.
Several moments later, the door swung open, yet again. "Wolverine, did you eat de last of the de chicken, mon amie?" At last the Cajun had spoken. He stood in the doorway with one of those plastic tubs for leftovers under his arm.
"Yeah, I did," said Logan. He caught a strange expression on the Cajun's face as he caught sight of Rogue. She turned her head away as if to avoid looking at him. It was painstakingly obvious something had happened while the rest of them were at the beach. Wolverine could almost smell it.
He didn't have time to dwell on it as Jubilee skidded into the room.
"Cyclops wants you guys in the war room!"
Rogue sat on the opposite side of the round table to Remy. He kept throwing her glances, she just blanked him. To her it was as if he was playing an intricate game of poker, also trying to confuse his opponent, so far it seemed to be working. There was little he could say to help matters, and yet the same time he was desperate for her attention. She tried to keep a calm composure, but became so wrapped up in the effort that she heard very little of the mission briefing.
"... So Beast here," their rigid leader gestured to Hank, "accidentally intercepted a radio transmission which revealed that today, at the Friends of Humanity summit, there are going to be new Sentinels which are out with government control. I'm sending some of you down there to keep an eye on things."
"The summit's taking place in this building here," said Beast, he flicked a switch, prompting the largest screen in the war room to display a picture. "The Sentinels however will be outside, apparently demonstrating how safe they are for the general public."
"Storm and Rogue can keep watch from above. I need Gambit and Wolverine to patrol on the ground."
"Cyclops, let me go, please!" whined Jubilee.
"No. Sentinels can turn things pretty ugly, pretty quickly, kid," said Wolverine with a smile, "We wouldn't want you getting hurt now."
"I'm not a kid anymore. Just let me do things!"
"Wolverine's right. You might be able to help me here instead," said Jean. Her comforting tone and probably a few mental messages shut Jubilee up.
Rogue headed out with Storm. "Are we flying apart all the way?" she asked, fearful she would be trapped in a plane with Gambit. It was strange how awkward things could become in such a short space of time.
"I believe so. We shall have to hurry," she responded. By now they had reached the front door. "Evening air, aid our journey!" she demanded, again with the dramatic voice.
Warm clammy air settled around them as they took off. It helped keep them suspended, with relative lack of effort. This meant they could focus on flying, and flying fast. Storm was better suited to the sky than her younger companion. She rose and fell in perfect harmony with the breeze, as she glided just beneath the clouds in an unworldly silence. Rouge didn't have the advantage of being in touch with the weather. She had to cut through the currents of air and constantly change direction. Not that it mattered to her. The air was the only place where she felt free from the restraints of the wretched mutation. A place where she could be entirely alone, yet at the same time watch the world as vividly, as if she herself was part of it.
"Look Storm, down there!" she yelled, waving an arm in the general downward direction of the FoH crowds.
They landed on the roof of a building a few blocks away. The basic plan was to swoop down at the first hint of trouble.
"Wolverine, do you read me?" asked storm, pressing one of the X's on her uniform.
"I hear you loud and clear. We're heading towards the centre, so keep an eye on 'em Sentinels." The transmitter obviously didn't work quite so well when surrounded by concrete buildings. His voice was hardly audible over jittery interference.
On the ground, the anti-mutant demonstration was in full swing. Wolverine couldn't turn his head without seeing another uncreative banner. There had once been a time when the idiots had put a little bit of thought into the derogatory slogans. Now, they were so lifeless, that even the chants seemed too blunt in hatred to mean anything. Despite this, today had the biggest turnout of all FoH events.
"Where de Sentinels?" sneered the Cajun. The younger man seemed to be walking on hot cinders, with such a look of determination. Of course, he had been in a few scraps with the giant robot things, one of which involved surrendering his pride. It had been Logan who shoved him out of a mine full of them, returning to fight alone. Gambit found it less like 'saving his life' and more like 'insulting his ability'.
Logan heard the clangs of metal long before he saw the monstrous things. "To your left, Bub."
The tin cans had had a makeover. The awkward red and purple colours had been replaced with a shiny chrome effect. The faces seemed more human, despite being no longer being painted as such, as if part of the bid to change public opinion. They moved more organically, additional joints made them walk less stiffly, and more like something one could relate to. The false eyes were still piercing red lasers.
"I'm going in for a closer look, wait here," ordered Wolverine, fully aware the Cajun wouldn't let him face the machines alone again.
"Fine," Gambit stated coldly.
The answer surprised Logan. He'd expected resistance, complaining, even sarcasm but nothing of the sort erupted from his teammate's usually sharp mouth. Shrugging inwardly, the clawed man decided now was as good a time as any other to ask about Saturday, while he'd played volleyball on the baking sand.
"What happened then?" he asked. Perhaps not specifically enough, as an eyebrow above a bizarre eye lifted in confusion. With a sigh he changed it to, "What happened on Saturday?"
Retaining the same coldness, Gambit replied, "What makes you think anything happened?"
"I weren't born yesterday, Cajun. You've been acting frankly weird since we got back, you and that 'friend' of yours," growled Logan, bearing ever so slightly, a bit of the sharp canines.
"It's none of your business, no?" he did his customary little high note at the end of the sentence.
The claws glided out of his knuckles at lightning speed, "I'm just trying to show some interest! I don't even like yer dirty little face all that much."
"Umm Wolverine," Remy stuttered as if Logan had put him in his place, "I'd put the claws away."
"Wait, what, why?" It was too late.
"Mutant detected!" sounded the computer generated voice of a Sentinel. It was standing over them in the most menacing manner.
"Little help here, Storm!" groaned Wolverine, slamming the button on his communicator.
Storm and Rogue were on the scene in a matter of seconds. "Autumn mist, blind those fools!" commanded Storm. A thick mist drifted into the street. FoH demonstrators started running and screaming.
Despite rendering any humans useless in panic the mist didn't have the desired effect on the Sentinels. "Four mutants are in the vicinity," called the eerie inhuman voices in unison. There were five metal monstrosities, all of which had switched to attack programming.
Gambit and Wolverine didn't stand a chance. The Sentinel brought a heavy fist upon them. Fortunately they'd been able to leap out of the way but it caught Wolverine in its other hand. He slashed at the fingers; much to his annoyance they had a very thin layer of something resembling adamantium, making his task all the more difficult.
Remy started to throw cards at the face. One after another exploded, blackening the chrome expression, but having little effect on the crushing pressure it was applying to Logan's chest.
Rogue responded to the Sentinel far more efficiently. She rushed to the welded bar holding the head securely upon the neck. The preoccupied robot didn't have time to react as she kicked its head neatly of its shoulders. She'd used such a force in the kick that the cables within had been cut evenly. She couldn't help but smile at herself for that. However her moment of glory was interrupted by the decapitated Sentinel starting to fall.
She dived down from the shoulders, reached the hand, forced the fingers open and rescued Wolverine before the metal chest had even reached the ground.
"Are you alright?" she asked setting him down as gently as possible.
He doubled over, his arms wrapped tightly over his chest. "I got a couple o' broken ribs, give me a minute." His face became contorted. Rogue had occasionally questioned how deliberate the rapid healing process was, or how much, if any, control he had over it.
The Cajun stood like a spare part. He disliked how Rogue had just been the hero while his efforts had been useless. Then he saw Storm, who was still distorting the visibility, get into some trouble.
Storm normally had to shut off the rest of her thoughts when she controlled the weather over larger areas. This is why the Sentinel had surprised her. It had lifted off and snatched her from the air before throwing her against the concrete pavement.
Gambit ran into the situation, formulating a plan as he went. This time he took a leaf out of Rogue's book and aimed for neck. The card lodged itself under the Sentinel's chin before exploding. To his utter dismay it had as little effect as Jubilee's earlier fireworks.
"Dis is not Gambit's day," he muttered.
"It ain't, is it sugah?" mocked Rogue who glided just above his head. "You can go get Storm!" She repeated the same soccer kick decapitation as he grabbed Storm's unconscious form. "This is easy!" she beamed, whilst flying from the metal torso.
Wolverine caught up with them. "Save some glory for us girl!" he yelled, "Throw me at that one and watch how it's done."
"Sure thing!" she grabbed him, carried him a little then threw him squarely at one of the remaining Sentinel's heads. He got all six claws into forehead. With a twist of his wrists the glowing eyes flickered off.
The second last one leaned over Storm and Gambit as if to shoot them with its lasers. Annoyingly for proud Remy, Storm, who was almost unconscious, sent a lightning bold into one of the eyes. The Sentinel upper body snapped back and it keeled over into a building. Only one was left.
Unfortunately before he'd even got a card out, Rogue landed, holding a giant metal head above her own like a trophy. It really wasn't his day.
"Gambit, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, tossing the head aside. A man stood on the other side of the street, holding a gun. It was probably just some punk from the Friends of Humanity, exploiting America's acceptance of firearms.
He dashed out of sight. The mist was no longer present; the only cover was the grey dust from their recent battle.
"Aargghh ," Gambit grumbled as the pain set in. He'd just taken a damn bullet through his chest, and yet he still stood. Blood started to pour from the open wound, seeping through the red fabric of his shirt. This really wasn't his day
"I'll take Storm, Rogue. You get him to the mansion and you get him there quickly," said Wolverine.
Rogue didn't have to be told twice. As awkward as having to carry him was she didn't want him dead.
As soon as they were out of earshot the Cajun, despite his injury, decided to speak.
"This is convenient, non?" he smiled.
"Don't think that Ah'm enjoying this," she replied icily, "Will ya just faint already?"
"I don't think so, chere." Despite his words his eyes did close before she spoke again.
"Ah'm sorry Remy," she said soothingly to his sleeping form. "You don't understand what it's like. Ah never wanted to hurt you. Hell, I couldn't hurt you on purpose even if Ah tried. An' look at me now, talking to ya like it's actually gonna change anything. Ah'm a coward Remy, I couldn't face ya, after what we said. An' I'd rather die a thousand deaths than lose ya now."
"You realise that Gambit's still awake, chere." A mischievous twist settled at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm gonna beat you to a pulp, swamp rat!" She couldn't hide the relief that he was still okay.
"I'm sure Beast will accept it was the Sentinel's doing, no?" he smirked.
She would have slapped him had her arms not been under his body, preventing him from falling. She had chosen to carry him perpendicular to her own body; one arm tucked under his knees the other clutching at his back. It was a very maternal, protective sort of hold, like the way a mother might carry an overgrown child. Actually that was essentially what Gambit was
At long last they reached the mansion. Beast was waiting at the infirmary.
"Well this is quite a predicament," Hank stated the obvious.
"Can ya just get him patched up before he bleeds out, Beast?" said an irritated Rogue as she placed him down on one of the beds.
"It appears you have a punctured lung, I shall have to stop the bleed," he reached for a needle, "This anaesthetic shall send you straight to sleep."
Rogue hadn't even noticed she was holding his hand until he winced at the needle approaching his skin. No one 'likes' needles other than drug addicts, but he had a particular distaste for them, for reasons he couldn't quite understand. He gripped her thin fingers through her glove, noticing that she was wearing the ones he had given her. They were so fine that he might as well have had her skin against his, never before had they been so close to touching without any side effects.
"Night, chere," he said after the dose was administered.
"Goodnight, Gambit," she replied as his devilish eyes closed. She noticed that his gaze never left her until the very last moment.
