A/N: Thanks for your reviews as always! This one's for Kitty2228 and of course, the usual suspects.

(I'm really proud of the first part. I adore Remy! –Meg)

Chapter Eight:

Las Vegas was the city that never sleeps, but that was true of Chicago and New York as well, and Gambit was of the mind that Las Vegas was the best of the three outside of his native "N'awlings." As it was, it was a chilly night in New York, and Gambit was glad for his weathered trench coat. Gambit was a man of many sins, of the flesh and of conscience. He was a man who loved women, and he loved hard. He was also a man with a past. It seemed that it had finally caught up to him.

They say the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime, and though Gambit was no murderer, he had been made accomplice to a horrific act against his will.

The Morlock Tunnels were empty now, but they would never be truly free of the ghosts of memory that had been violently marked into the walls. It was cold and wet in the Tunnels. Remy had never really liked the cold, but he ignored the cold to pay his respects. Remy feared that he would never be able to repay his debts against humanity, against the innocent few Underworlders who could not pass as human who had done nothing against him and had died violently, not avenged and alone. All because of a madman who decided who lived and died according to his genetic blue print for a better mutant kind; in the name of evolution.

The only saving grace that prevented Gambit from ending his life that hellish night was a little girl with bone growths protruding from her body. When the killing started, Gambit had been shocked, horrified and tried to stop it. For his troubles, the savage Sabretooth had mortally wounded Remy.

Sabretooth was a killer for hire working for Sinister at the time. Barely conscious, bleeding from gushing claw marks in his flank; Gambit had seized the young girl and fled. Hiding the girl away, Gambit was left to lick his wounds in one of his boltholes and he vowed that night he would never be used as he had by Mr. Sinister. There was nothing worth the cost of all those innocent deaths; there was nothing worth that price.

Gambit had taken it upon himself to carry the burden of justice for those people, and he promised that one day, he would avenge their senseless deaths.

Charging a card, he threw it to the ground. It exploded in a small puff, leaving the card singed but still presentable. Gambit had laid down the first hand in this gambit of cards, and it was up to Mr. Sinister to decide the next move.

Gambit turned and left, leaving behind the Ace of Spades.

Meanwhile, in a top-secret evil mad geneticist's laboratory…

Magneto walked down the hallway, almost gagging on the stench of human fear. He didn't want to be here, but he needed to make sure Mr. Sinister was still on track with their plans.

Magneto was in full dress, helmet included. He suspected Sinister had some minor telepathy. It wouldn't do to make oneself vulnerable in the lair of a powerful mutant. Even if the mutant in question was an ally.

"Have you prepared the "anti-cure?" Magneto asked.

"Of course, my fellow," Dr. Nathaniel Essex spoke before shifting to his more frightening form and baring his shark-like teeth, "some of the subjects in my private stock have responded well to the application of the cure and the anti-cure. The latest Western Blots have revealed the readiness of the virus. That was what the so-called cure was, Mr. Lehnsherr, a mere virus."

What Sinister didn't add, was that he had taken the "cure" and engineered a lentivirus to further his own plans. Essentially, what Mr. Sinister had created was a keyhole virus, a virus that would only attack a specific strain of DNA common to weaker generations of mutants. The effects of his virus would not appear for quite some time, lulling Magneto into a false sense of security.

Erik eyed him suspiciously, before he looked around the room. Corpses in various states of decay, not to mention frightened eyes looking at him, surrounded him.

"And of the serum to turn humans into mutants?" Magneto inquired.

"It is currently in the process of being created," Sinister lied. "It will take me some time to synthesize it."

"Very well. Delivery is expected as soon as possible."

"Expect a shipment Monday night," Mr. Sinister replied, "my associates will contact you with the necessary details."

"May I have the name of your associate doing the contact?" Erik inquired.

"Of course," Mr. Sinister grinned, "you are quite familiar with her, I believe. Arclight," he called out, and the woman appeared from another room. "Since you were so careless with the one I loaned to you, I had her cloned. Or rather, I did the clone job," he sighed, "so tedious."

Magneto nodded, feeling totally and completely unnerved, and turned to leave. Such awesome power and a cavalier attitude with it! As he left the laboratory, he felt the uneasiness fade, and a general feeling that he had merely been allowed to leave the lair of the Devil.

Sinister turned back to his work. Grinning maliciously, he prepared a syringe with the newest batch of his prepared virus. Looking over the candidates, his eyes stopped on a young woman huddled in the corner of her cage.

"Come here, my sweet thing. This will only hurt for a moment." He soothed, approaching her cage.

The frightened woman bared her teeth, "forget it, upworlder!" she snarled, "let me go, and I promise you, as leader of the Gene Nation, your death will be swift!"

"But I will let you go, my dear," Mr. Sinister smirked, "just as soon as I give you this shot. Come here. I promise, it won't hurt. Much."

The woman approached the gate to her cage, standing just out of arms reach. Mr. Sinister opened the cage and suddenly she exploded into action. Snapping off one of the sharp bone protrusions, she rushed him and stabbed him. Her flurry of movement overwhelmed the emotionally spare scientist and their struggle was violently fleeting. The syringe snapped and shattered, spilling onto Marrow and the mad scientist himself.

Essex let out a startled shout as Marrow fled, and a few of the listless prisoners shouted and hollered at the activity and begged to be freed.

Mr. Sinister smirked as he fancied he actually felt his created virus begin to attack his cells, but what mad scientist would create a virus without a vaccine? He strode over to his lab desk and pulled open the drawer. Carefully, he took out a syringe, took off its cap and jabbed the serum into his arm.

"And so it begins," he muttered, "the Legacy. My Legacy!"