Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters and am not making any money off of this, it's just for fun.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, their only reason that I continue, as long as I keep getting them I'll keep writing. The story should finish about chapter 40 or so if you're wondering about the length. Probably a sequel as well if there is enough demand. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it, hopefully the chapters are getting better as a result of your reviews.
CH 7: The Return of Gambit
The feel of cold steel in his hands was familiar. After all, his weapon of choice, his collapsible bo-staff was made of adamantium, and none who saw him wield it could deny that he did so with a deadly grace.
He recalled those instances when he was underestimated, surrounded in close proximity by armed men, regular flat scans. He remembered the mocking laughter in their voices that surrounded him,
"Didn't you ever here not to bring a knife to a gun fight boy?" He held back his smile, if they wanted to take their position for granted then that was their mistake, and he would use it against them.
"Hell he didn't even bring a knife, he brought a stick!" Again, raucous laughter at his expense, or so they thought, because in his mind he was laughing along with them at a different joke.
"You wanna play wit Gambit den non? Lets make it fair den mon braves, Gambit gon' give ya'll de first move."
"This guy must be off his rocker, take this idiot out."
"Wrong move mon ami." In an instant that was barely noticeable to the average observer the man behind him lifted his weapon to fire and simultaneously 6 inches of durable adamantium extended into five and half feet. But those that were watching could hardly tell, because immediately it began to spin in a manner that made it seem like it was an optical illusion. Before any of them could register his movements they were staring at him from the ground, in piles of broken bones and blood. A few shots were fired, a byproduct of the body's knee jerk reaction to blunt trauma, but the spatial awareness that made him the superior fighter negated any threat that the bullets would have posed to any average man.
"Look like Gambit win dis round den non? Mebbe next time den eh? Au revoir hommes"
A smile played across his features at the memories, but the awkward feeling in his hands brought him back to the present. No, Remy Lebeau was no stranger to the feel of a solid metal weapon, but this one was foreign, the shape was wrong, everything about it was wrong; the balance, the feel, the weight, the size, and most of all the limited options it presented him. It was definitely not the first rifle he had handled, that had regretfully become a regular occurrence back when he was delving into contracts that called for more force that stealth. Sometimes you needed to reach out and touch some one from a distance, his cards were too loud, too flashy, but a silenced sniper rifle often proved a strong ally. But those instances were a memory now, it had been some time since his work had required him to use such tactics. Tactics that began his foray into the darkness, each contract he filled that resulted in him taking a life dimmed a piece of his soul, and led him down the path to serve evil. He had vowed that those days were over, he would never again wield an uncontrollable instrument of death, but here he was, breaking the very vow that he swore he would uphold.
Two weeks after he took the contract and his foot was barely in the door. He had a basic idea of the security setup, but there were so many layers that for the first time in his life he began to doubt if he could pull a job off.
From what he had learned his firm was responsible for the outer layer and overall setup for security with the two internal layers contracted out to competing firms, that's how he knew these guys were serious, firms were always in constant competition, security was a cutthroat business and cooperation between firms was unheard of.
There were two setups, the rotations that Remy was apart of ran a constant roving perimeter, 24/7 that included the usual badge checks and call responses from nervous secretaries. The other part of his firm worked inside the building on special projects for the facility, from what he could tell it was more mercenary work than security.
Dexter Securities specialized in mainframe and network security, their employees were all techies that worked inside the facilities clean room. Remy regretted his choice of firm, considering what he was after it would have been much more advantageous to have gotten in with Dexter Securities than with his current employer Wiggin & Bean. He quickly dismissed the thought though when he realized that there was little he could have done to get hired on with them in the allotted time frame, much less ensure that he was stationed at the facility. He had the feeling that only their top notch specialist were on this detail.
The other Security firm, Titan Inc., ran lab and transportation security. Specimens that had to be moved to storage or discreetly disposed of needed armed escorts, they had straight shot access to the labs and back out with little more, he doubted any of them would prove helpful in gaining him access to the product that he was after.
The fourth and final layer was ran by the facility itself, little was known about what the final layer was but rumors indicated it was some sort of psyops, he planned on avoiding that layer at all costs. All in all his research so far had brought him to one conclusion,
'Remy, you be royally fucked homme.'
His GPS encoder that was provided to him by his employers beeped indicating that it was time to rotate to his next checkpoint. The timer was set on a random sequence that was controlled by a mainframe maintained by Dexter Securities, none of the guards knew when they were do to rotate until the timer beeped, and if they missed their checkpoint the mainframe would send an additional series of beeps to the rest of the guards that indicated which one of them was the offender, Remy was guard number seven, so if he missed a checkpoint then seven beeps would be filtered down to the rest of his rotation, and since the encoders were GPS tracked, they would know exactly were to find him. Overall it was a solid security plan, Remy was thoroughly impressed.
At least the accommodations weren't bad. The firms were housed in three separate compounds that surrounded the facility, they didn't want them mixing in order to prevent one person from gaining too much access to the client. Not to mention the headhunting that would be going on, qualified security operatives were a rare find, if allowed to interact, the separate firms would try and lure operatives over to their respective companies, drawing away from the mission of providing the facility with airtight coverage.
His radio beeped and an authoritative voice filtered through the static,
"Gautreau, I need to see you in my office over in sector two, Rodriguez will relieve you in five."
'Dis is odd, Ain' been here a week an de boss man wanna see me already, I know I ain' missed no rotations.'
As Remy pondered the implications of this meeting, he felt a body moving through his kinesthetic field behind him, the short choppy steps burdened by an extra 50lbs of gear told him that it was Rodriguez coming to relieve him.
"Yo J.P, the boss wants to see you man"
"D'accord Rod, you know what dis be about?"
"Man you know they don't tell none of us shit, but I'd suggest you hop your frog ass over there on the double, he sounded agitated as fuck comprende?
"Got it mon ami, I'll see you down at de bar when shift is over eh?"
"Sounds like a plan Frenchy, I doubt they serve wine though."
'Wine, I wonder if he's ever even tasted it before… I've never seen a man drink so much whiskey in one sitting before in my life, J.P. must have went through some serious shit running ops with those special forces units, guys got some serious issues.'
Remy gave him a laugh to let him know the friendly banter was accepted and made his way into the facility.
'Looks like your luck jus' don' ever run out homme, dis might be de break you been lookin' fo.'
Remy was greeted at the upper entrance to the facility that was housed deep in the side of the Nevada canyon by two armed escorts who looked like they had seen better days. He recognized that they were apart of the second detail that ran ops for the client, even if he hadn't known them from seeing them around it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out they weren't your typical run of the mill security guards.
They made their way down the corridor and Remy's training as a thief kicked in, cataloging every turn, every door way and every checkpoint. When they got to their destination he was escorted into the office of the head of security ops, Anthony Draydon.
"I'll get to the point Gautreau, I've recently had a position open up on my team and HQ tells me that you're the most qualified individual that we have on location, you come highly recommended by Mr. Stone himself. It's no small feat impressing him so I'm sure that you will make a competent addition".
"What 'xactly is dis position Mr. Draydon, an' what do it entail?"
"You'll be working on my team running ops for our client, the client has certain interest outside the facility that we work to secure, as well as certain...issues that we handle for him, through process of elimination."
'Assasination and kidnappin, merde what you get yo'self into dis time homme'
Remy picked up the blunt implication as the men in the room stared at him, waiting for his response. He picked up a movement so slight that he wasn't sure if he imagined it or not, but when the guard opposite to the one to his left rear mirrored the movement and slid his finger off the guard and onto the trigger of his weapon he knew that it was no mistake, he suddenly felt inclined to accept the offer.
'Well, you already in dis deep homme, might as well finish wat you started'.
Remy nodded to a man who was wavering in and out of consciousness in the corner of the room with one hand grasping at his abdomen. "Is dat a byproduct of one of deese "issues" you be referin' to?".
"It seems that Mr. Halpan has lost his conviction to carry on with this particular type of operation, he underestimated his target because he was unarmed. The mission called for acquisition but he got too close before the target was neutralized, rectifying the situation will be one of the first missions your new team will take on. The objective has changed however, from acquisition to elimination".
His fist reaction was an internal cringe, a foreshadowing of regret that he knew was on the horizon if he carried out the new objective, but then he caught Halpan's movement. In order to shift his weight to a more comfortable position he drew away his hand that was covering his wound in order to use it for support. That's when Remy saw three bright red streaks running diagonal across the man's stomach, a signature wound that might has well have been signed in pen. They were ragged cuts, not fine and precise like those caused by metal blades; he knew there was only one man in this world who could leave a wound like that. A feeling of blinding rage spread from the depths of his being and filled him throughout his entire body until he was only seeing in shades of gray and one word pervaded his senses…Creed.
"Our client has given us the go-ahead to eliminate any such threats that we are unable to acquire and return to base, as you can see this one presented itself somewhat of a challenge. We have been authorized to use deadly force, so long as the body is returned to the facility. Hefty bonuses are usually offered to operatives who complete this particular type of mission in order to add incentive; this isn't exactly the most pleasant aspect of our job".
"D'accord Mr. Draydon".
"Excellent, we will debrief you on the target and have you ready to leave with your team by tomorrow morning, is there anything else Mr. Gautreau?"
"Yes, keep de bonus, I gladly do dis one fo free."
His icy tone sent a chill through their spines and unnerved even the most battle hardened warriors in the room. They watched him stand there un-phased and unmoving, the same thought spread through each of their minds, the thought of certainty, certainty that made them believe he was fully intent of carrying out that statement.
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"Already he teeters on the precipice, he will no doubt go over the edge".
: "I do not disagree."
"Yet you do not worry?"
: "We have long known that he would be pushed to this point, there was never a question. It is how he will recover that separates him apart from those around him".
"You know he will not, he has fallen to many times already with no helping hand to pull him back up. His spirit will be broken, he will give in to failure".
: "But this time a hand of help will be offered to him."
"If he chooses to take it…."
: "Indeed, that will be the true test"
And with that the watchers did what they have done for eons, they watched the events they had shaped since before the birth of civilization unfold before them.
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Reaching up he pulled out the contacts that hid his eyes. He hated wearing them, they were unnatural, but unfortunately a necessity for this job. He stared at himself in the mirror, he looked into his own demon eyes, more familiar that the hazel ones he had been hiding behind and wondered how he had managed to fall back down into the crevice that he had worked so hard to crawl out of.
'Mebbe it was jus' dream Lebeau an' ya never made it out in de firs' place'.
More than once his conscious started to hint at a tinge of regret, until he thought about Creed. He hated Creed more than anyone else in this pathetic and lost world, even more than Sinister who had cost him so much. At least Sinister had some twisted logic behind his actions, but Creed killed for the pure and simple twisted pleasure of it.
The benefit of killing that abomination would wipe away any taint of the soul that the action may cause. One responsible for so much willing murder and mindless killing could not be allowed to continue through life unpunished, not when he himself was forced to live with the burden of guilt caused by atrocities that he had never wanted, never would have allowed if he had known, atrocities that he punished himself for ruthlessly every day.
'You didn' do dis to yo'self Remy! You did evertin' you had to ta get rid of dem demons!, Dey pushed you back down into dis hole, dey dragged you back ta dis life when dey lef' you ta die. Dey took away de penance you was doin' and forced you inta dis'.
Even as he tried to convince himself of his absolution, he knew that it was his own cowardice as much as anything that resulted in his current situation.
'Coulda wen' back homme, shoulda wen' back an' faced de music, but you always gotta run non?, Dey mighta understood if only you coulda told de truth for once in your miserable life'.
How ironic he thought. All times he lied to save is own ass, to hold his secrets to himself in order to hide the terrible truth, all the deception, and this is the one time that the old adage applied to his pathetic existence; The truth would have set him free.
The briefing earlier in the day had only confirmed what he knew all along, the figure that filled the view screen was unmistakably imposing and vicious. It was not a flattering visage of Creed, it was a security photo of him leaving a rundown warehouse that was taken from the bank across the street. He was carrying two lifeless forms, one in each hand and a snarling maw that was covered in blood. Looking at the photo Remy guessed what he was doing with those two bodies, and where, if not who he was taking them to. It wasn't the highest quality of photo, he doubted that a firm with such resources would have trouble acquiring something better, from their own private operatives or from one of the various government ran mutant monitoring agencies, however the effect wouldn't have been near as unnerving.
Remy wondered what type of research facility this was that needed to capture Creed, or why a research facility would need someone killed. He had since deduced that it was obviously dedicated to the study of unwilling mutants, but why they wanted Sabertooth he just couldn't figure out. There was nothing special besides his murderous rage that set him apart from the other thousands of mutants in the country, but to sacrifice an operative just to capture him baffled Remy to no ends.
They all looked at him like he was half past crazy when he spoke up in the middle of the briefing,
"Don't need no help on dis one, I think dat mebbe it woul' be bes' if I wen' alone."
After a pause of several long moments where no one protested Mr. Draydon spoke up,
"I appreciate your enthusiasm Mr. Gautreau but I do not think that will be necessary".
"Ain' nothin' necessary bout it boss, jus' easier, you ever wonder why you had such a hard time gettin' de drop on him las' time? Can' get no where near dis one stompin' round and makin' noise wit a big group of folk. You need stealth to get to dis one."
"I know exactly what is required Mr. Gautreau, we all read the same file that you did. There is nothing in your profile that leads me to believe that you are any more qualified than the rest of the individuals in this room to complete this mission. I have already lost one operative to this mark and he was with a qualified team, I do not plan on loosing another so soon. Do you have history with the target That I need to be aware of? If you're personal feelings get in the way of this mission we can pull you off, I can't afford an emotional operative jeopardizing a mission".
Remy stared at the man and gave great thought to what he was about to say next, this situation had to be handled exactly right. He looked around the room at his team, it wasn't that he didn't think they were capable, they were all highly trained operatives, some were ex-special forces, some were career mercenaries that had been doing this type of work since they could lift a rifle. One in particular intrigued him, Svetlana, a Chechnyian rebel that had been engaged in some type of warfare for her entire life, hers was a skill gained out of necessity. He wondered how someone so beautiful could be so efficient in the art of killing. He laughed at his own question,
'How many belle femmes you know dat ain' dangerous homme?'
There wasn't any reason for him to not trust these people, it was just done out of habit, he didn't trust anyone.
He had seen what Sabertooth was capable of, and no matter how highly trained his teammates were he doubted that they were up to the task. Sure they could execute the plan, even get off the kill shot with deadly accuracy, but when they had to go in for confirmation is when things would get hectic. He didn't want to have to worry about anyone but himself in that situation, he wouldn't be responsible for the loss of any life but his own. He doubted they were innocent, but he also doubted that they deserved the fate that awaited them at the end of Sabertooth's vicious claws. All the skills in the world couldn't prepare them for the ferocity of close quarters combat with a feral predator like Creed, it just wasn't within their natural abilities, but it was within his.
"Oui, used to do a few jobs wit him, notin' personal though, I jus' be de best homme for de job eh? I Think dat less is more in dis situation, I know how dis homme operates, I can follow his movements better den anyone else here, de res' of dese folks jus' slow me down".
Draydon took careful survey of his newest recruit, there was something about him that made him dare to believe his words and place his trust in him, he suddenly and for no apparent reason found himself in awe of the man. There was nothing particularly inspiring about him from his outward appearance, he looked to be no more capable than any of his other operatives, at first glance you could mistake him for some pretty playboy instead of a battle hardened soldier, but his confident demeanor was contagious and to no avail he fell into his hypnotic gaze with reluctant agreement.
"Very well Mr. Gautreau, but remember, were not paying you to settle old scores, make the kill quick, clean, efficient and then bring back the body."
"D'accord Mr. Draydon."
"We'll set up comm from here, I run all ops from our control room, you'll need to pick a handle. In the unlikely event that an eavesdropper catches wind of one of our operations we like to provide our agents with plausible deniability."
'What de hell, might as well go all in'
"De name is Gambit."
Draydon didn't know why but it seemed to fit perfectly, most code names that weren't given by someone else because it fit the personality seemed awkward and forced, until eventually it rolled of tongue as the product of sheer repetitiveness. But the name Gambit suited this man so well that he wondered how they ever called him anything else.
"Fine, Gambit it is, study the file and be ready by 0700 tomorrow, a chopper will pick you up on the landing pad and take you to the targets last known location. Bring all the gear you will need to track him, this one is slippery."
Remy got up from his chair and strode out of the room before the man could change his mind. After he was gone Draydon wondered what had possessed him to agree to such a dangerous gamble, he had never sent a single operative out against such a dangerous target. He tried to pin it down but it seemed like the events that occurred just moments ago were hazy, like it was a dream. He found it strange, but let it go with the self proclaimed excuse that he was caught up in the adrenaline that accompanied the moment.
After Remy was through replaying those events in his mind he snapped out of his reverie to blink the dryness from his eyes.
'Dat wasn't to bright charmin de man like dat in fron' of everyone else, good t'ing none of dem wanted to take on Creed again anyhow. And wat de hell did you give him dat name fo'? You coulda used any name in de worl' but you give him dat one, at least now when dis job is done der won' be no doubt as to who pulled it off'.
With that Remy contemplated sleep, but decided to have just a few drinks, if only to take the edge off.
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: "Interesting, already The One is deviating from the path that has been laid before him, it seems that you were right in his unpredictability"
"Yes but whose path, the one that we have constructed or that of The First"
: "It would appear that he has taken neither, instead he chooses a third option that we have not predicted, this will complicate things. I had long believed that our path was the dominant one, a result of centuries of preparation, the path of The First is only newly formed and cannot compete with the intricate plan we have laid, yet The One defies us both."
"What will you do?"
: "What can we do? I find it disturbing that he has managed to evade centuries of meticulous planning that was done on his behalf, this is an unexpected turn of events, it seems that it was all done in futility".
"Do you think he realizes the power he possesses, the responsibility that hinges on his every decision? I should hope not, his actions thus far do not bode well for this reality if he does."
: "No, his powers were suppressed at the beginning stages of their evolution; the one named Sinister did quite an effective job of stifling his potential early. It is his actions that have added unpredictability; he is the pebble that has somehow managed to alter the river from its course. Because of him The One has been molded into something other than we have intended".
"Yes, it is unfortunate."
: "Not so, I believe that while causing The One to become something different, inadvertently he has caused him to become something better"
"Intriguing indeed, but I thought you said it was impossible to reduce the powers of the one."
: "It is, the power is still within his grasp as it has always been, Sinister did nothing to stop his evolution, he only succeeded in making him ignorant of his abilities. When the time comes he will be able to reach within himself and recall his power, he only has to be willing to reach through the barrier that he allows to stand in his mind."
"Yes, but the question remains….when the time comes will he be willing to do so?
: "As it is true for all things that have occurred to him in his life it will scarcely rely upon any of his own actions, but instead on the actions of others. We have long known that he cannot be controlled directly, he is too strong, but can only be controlled through the actions of others."
"I find myself feeling a great deal of pity for The One, he has never been allowed to live as he would have chosen, and we will take that life before he will ever have that chance again."
: "Yes, it is unfortunate…..but necessary all the same"
