Chapter Twenty-four: Corruption

A/N: Hello again Loganson, nice to hear from you once more. Still if I could just make one comment if I may? The Remy shade is Gambit's past made 'flesh' he even said as much. This is the man Gambit has admitted, numerous times, to being ashamed of; the man who was a con-artist and a thief. He is pre-Rogue, so his attitude is less a reflection of his feelings for her than it is the anguish, bitterness, and destructiveness of his past. He is not angry at Rogue per se but at the world, and angry people lash out blindly; the real Gambit matured and realised the mistake of his behaviour, but that anger was still inside him, now sadly, it is also inside Rogue. Perhaps Rogue kept that side of him because she too is a very angry, damaged person and was drawn to those feelings more than love, which she has little experience of? Ultimately, the tragedy of the Rogue/Gambit kiss was that Remy did/does love Rogue but that for whatever reason she only absorbed the worst of him and not the best.

Ahem, apologies everyone, now on with the action……

Sabretooth watched as Sinister waded in to take down the remaining wave of Sentinels right alongside Xavier's brats; he wondered what the X-men would say if they could see themselves fighting side by side with a 'hated enemy'. Creed's lip curled, bunch of hypocrites the lot of them.

Crouched in the shelter of a large pile of rubble dug out from the shattered Beta-Star complex, Sabretooth was unmolested by X-man or Sentinel. The nature of his mutation being physical rather than energy based meant that unless he leapt out in front of one of the Prime's they would not notice him in the melee.

Creed had had his doubts when the punk had told him that, but it turned out the Cajun had done his homework after all. Shit Creed should have figured that, it was only since he'd tagged on with Xavier's gang that Lebeau had started to act like he couldn't think his way out of a paper bag; when'd they'd been with Sinister the punk used to know his stuff pretty good.

A Prime Sentinel crashed into the scorched and pock marked wall not far to Creed's right. The sentinel's body was a wreck; one side of its torso had been charbroiled by Havok's plasma blast and its remaining arm and leg were encased in ice. Still the head was in tact and the Prime was still just about active.

Perfect; Creed grinned broadly and flexed his claws as he nimbly leapt from his perch upon the rubble and pounced on the helpless Sentinel. The Sentinel turned its computerised eyes towards him and Creed's lips settled into a self-satisfied smirk.

'Peek-a-boo,' Creed's claws flashed down towards the Sentinel's human fragile neck, 'I see you.'

The last Sentinel fell under the combined might of the X-men, Havok, Polaris, and most unsettling of all Mr Sinister; in the dust and stilted silence of the aftermath the X-men stood loosely grouped together and united in their distrust of their unlikely 'ally'. Mr Sinister remained as impassive and unmoved as a mountain under the hostility of their combined gaze.

For the longest time, as the dust settled and the last of the fires had been quenched by Storm's light rain, silence reigned upon the former battlefield. Sinister stood on one side of an invisible dividing line and the X-men stood on the other.

It was Cyclops who spoke up in the end, still blind but now able to use the filter of his rapport with Jean to look through her eyes.

'What did you mean, Gambit had jeopardised our lives for his freedom?' Cyclops demanded recalling Sinister's comment when he had first materialised behind he and Jean.

Sinister smiled and looked pointed down at his booted feet, one of which rested on the horribly burned skull of a fallen Sentinel. With casual indifference he pushed down with his boot and shattered the brittle dome of bone under his boot. More than one of the gathered mutants winced at such a chilling reminder of Sinister's complete lack of compassion.

'Is it not obvious, Scott?' The ingratiating tone of Sinister's address made Cyclops' blood boil but he clenched his jaw and swallowed down his reaction as best he could. He had learned from bitter experience that lashing out at Sinister unthinkingly, while incredibly tempting, was never usually a good idea.

'Spell it out for me, Sinister; it's been a long day,' he snapped through gritted teeth.

Sinister inclined his head mockingly obliging, 'Very well, dear boy.'

He paused and casually glanced around to take in the rest of the assembled mutants before he continued, 'Lebeau, as I'm sure you are now aware, is of value to me. I have observed him for almost as long as I have watched you and Jean.'

Sinister nodded his head almost in deference to Jean who glared silently back at him, holding firm to Scott's arm. Sinister's smile quirked a little wider for just a moment before he continued in mild tones, as if explaining rudimentary facts to the mentally impaired.

'It is not in my interest to see harm come to him, however Lebeau does not possess the same value that you do Scott.' An ingratiating smile and Scott found himself wishing Jean would break the link between them so he wouldn't have to see it. 'Thus his life is of intrinsically less value to me than yours; a fact he is well aware of, if his recent actions are any indication.'

Scott was not the only one who was left confused by this. 'Explain,' he commanded tersely at the same time that Bobby leaned into Warren and stage whispered, 'Geez, could the guy be any more vague?'

Sinister's smile grew broader, which didn't make anyone happy. 'Perhaps it would be best if Ms Dane took over the narrative? She is a co-conspirator in this little game of rebellion, after all.' Sinister nodded almost amicably to Lorna who bridled and clenched her fists.

'Bastard,' she hissed and then defiantly raised her chin to address the X-men. Her voice almost snapped with imperious refusal to be guilty about what she had done.

'You were a bait and switch Scott. Gambit knew if he made it seem like you were in danger Sinister would crawl out of his hole and come rescue his precious Summers Genome.' She shot a glare at the benignly smiling mad scientist in question before continuing a little more calmly.

'Gambit blew up the FoH HQ in St Louis to attract the attention of O:ZT; don't ask me why, he wouldn't tell me. He also said to make sure that Havok and I took out the Blackbird when you arrived here; he wanted to make sure the X-men were stranded. I don't know if he knew that the Prime Sentinels would come to defend Beta-Star but I'm guessing he must have.'

Lorna paused and shrugged, 'All I know is he wanted a confrontation between the X-men, him, and Sinister. I didn't ask too many questions because frankly even when he answered them I couldn't make sense of it.' A wry smile hinting affection briefly touched her face, 'Whatever deck that man is playing with it's not completely sane.'

'Now that, my dear Ms Dane, is a certain fact.' Sinister interrupted and more than one X-man glanced at him askance for a long moment. Sinister sounded almost indulgent, like a faintly exasperated but basically proud father; the observation made Scott feel physically ill.

Trying to ignore Sinister as much as humanly possible he struggled to absorb Lorna's words but in the end he filed them away for further reckoning. It was still hard for Scott to equate long term planning with the Gambit he knew, let alone the sort of deviousness that would allow the other man to manipulate a master of the art like Sinister.

'So what your saying,' he addressed Sinister, 'is that Gambit played us all?'

Instead of being outraged or horrified by this fact, however, Scott only felt vaguely affronted. Why had Gambit waited until he had clearly gone stark raving insane before demonstrating this level of tactical thinking? God damn it if Scott had known earlier what Gambit was capable of he could have put the other man to better use for the good of the team long ago. No one knew as well as Scott, after all, that the X-men badly needed another tactician of worth since the Professor's departure.

Sinister was watching him with the keenness of a scalpel, 'Playing? Yes, that is an apt description.' Sinister's lips curled again as if in some private joke. 'Lebeau is fulfilling his purpose, if perhaps not as I would have commanded.'

Ororo's solemn but clear voice interposed before Scott could think of anything to say, 'If that is so and Remy orchestrated this situation, where is he now? If a face to face confrontation was his ends, why is he the only one absent?'

There was an expectant silence as the X-men looked to Sinister to fill it, and the mad scientist looked a trifle displeased remaining obstinately silent; Scott took some comfort from the fact that even Sinister didn't understand Gambit any more than the rest of them. The crushing silence threatened to choke them all.

'Where is Remy; where was he when the Sentinels attacked us?'

Ororo demanded and it was not just those who knew her well who could hear the tension and anger in her voice. Scott wondered with sudden sympathy what all this must be doing to Ororo. More so than anyone, she had always defended Gambit. Scott shook his head, he could only imagine how betrayed she must be feeling now.

'He be gettin' his ass kicked in de bunker,' another voice, familiar and timely, crashed the silent and uncomfortable moment. All eyes turned towards the heavily limping Cajun as he hobbled towards them a growling Wolverine at his back. Gambit wandered into the knife edge tension and offered up a dilatory wave.

'Bonsoir mes braves; y'all been havin' fun wit' de pretty purple robots?' There was a grating and completely out of place irreverence to the greeting that was as typically Gambit as it was unwelcome.

No one said a word in response as Gambit continued his slow progress towards them but everyone continued to stare intently. Eventually a greatly bloodied Cajun dragged himself with strained dignity straight over to Sinister. Scott could only watch alongside the rest of the team as their erstwhile teammate came to a stop right beside the cold hearted geneticist and glared up at him.

'An' jus' for de record homme; I weren' tryin to kill Summers, so don' be givin' me dat look.' Gambit scoffed and shook his head, 'It be tres stupid to go killin' de only homme around dat can hurt you, non, m'sieur Essex?'

Sinister's lips curled in a humourless smile, 'Indeed it would a fatal mistake to harm Summers, Lebeau, for a great manner reasons.' The threat in his sibilant, yet grinding voice, was obvious but Gambit, cradling one wrist against this chest, just flapped his good hand negligently.

'Eh, whatever homme, not like I ain't heard dem threats befor'.'

The X-men continued to stare. Wolverine silently walked over to join his team, shaking his head ruefully. Another silence, no less strained, but this time carrying an air of bafflement with it descended like a curtain of heaviness. Finally it was Warren who spoke up.

'Gambit?'

'Oui?' The Cajun appeared to be in the process of searching the pockets of his trench coat one handed for a cigarette, though admittedly it was hard to tell.

Warren exchanged looks with the others. Bobby nodded encouragingly and nudged him in the ribs to continue, 'Go on War, I'm not going to say it. I always have to say stuff like this, and I'm not doing it this time.'

Gambit regarded the pair curiously, or at least curiosity was suggested by his body language. As stated it was a little hard to tell; even Sinister was eyeing Gambit somewhat warily. Right at this moment the Cajun was worth a stare or three.

Warren nodded a little jerkily and licked his lips gathering himself before speaking, 'Gambit you do know that you're glowing, right?'

Gambit paused in the process of putting a glowing cigarette to his glowing lips. The tar like stains of congealing blood all over him stood out black as midnight against the rippling and shimmering veldt of colour that turned his clothes and his skin into a near blinding luminescence. He was glowing so brightly that the features of his face were mostly lost in the brilliance and it hurt to look at him dead on.

'Quoi?'

Gambit made a show of holding his hands out to his side and opened his glowing trench coat to look down on himself. His eyes were impossibly dark in a blindingly brilliant face when he looked back up and grinned at them as if absolutely nothing was wrong.

'I'm not glowin' homme, I'm jus' pleased to see you.' He winked at Warren chuckling at his own joke before popping the cigarette between his lips. Somehow he managed to light it without it blowing up in his face.

'It'll fade in a while, oui? Jus' de excitement of de moment, dat's all.' A shrug, casual and blasé, as if dripping liquid light and energy was an everyday occurrence for the former thief. The whole strange encounter shunted into the regions of the surreal with that exchange.

Not a single X-man said a word, mostly because no one could think of anything to say. Even Sinister was frowning at Gambit but eventually he gathered himself, reaching out to cup the other man's chin and tip his head up as if examining a misbehaving child.

'You said that the mutant Psylocke is responsible for demolishing the psi-blocks needed to regulate your powers?' he queried.

'Oui,' Gambit jerked out of the light hold and stepped unsteadily back, out of reach of Sinister. He puffed casually on his cigarette and continued to sway on his feet like a river reed in the breeze, 'You mind if'n I sit? I'm not feelin' so good.'

Sinister arched a brow but negligently waved a hand, 'It is unfortunate that the vast increase in your biokinetic potential has the side affect of altering your perceptions of reality and therefore impairing your cognisant faculties.'

Gambit kicked the headless torso of a Sentinel out of his way, only narrowly avoiding accidentally blowing it up on contact with his glowing foot, and sat cross legged on the floor idly taking leisurely drags from his cigarette. 'Ah oui, cognisant faculties be a real necessity in dis day an' age,' he agreed benignly.

Scott could feel his jaw unhinging in total bemusement and knew he was not the only one caught between the desire to laugh at the incongruity of Gambit sitting like a grade schooler at Sinister's feet and the equally powerful desire to grab the man by his glowing coat lapels and shake him until he made sense.

Wolverine snorted at the sight and whispered in aside to Scott and Jean, 'Gumbo's been actin' crazy, bouncin' from violent to depressed to this, since me and Bishop caught up to him. He only started glowing a little while back; don't know if he's plannin' something or if he's just lost it.'

Scott glanced from Wolverine to Gambit who was bickering with Sinister as the X-men's most insidious foe tried to examine Gambit for injuries. Scott could not get over the fact that Gambit did not seem to fear Sinister and that Sinister treated the Cajun with the same disturbing proprietary interest that he showed Scott.

Once again Scott found himself wondering what the hell was going on here.

Gambit's shields are totally gone, and he's broadcasting. I just can't make sense of it; it's like he's thinking on a totally different level of awareness.

Jean's mental broadcast went out to every X-man at once, He's in a lot of psychic pain. I can feel where Psylocke smashed his shield; it's like a deep, bleeding stab wound. It's possible Sinister's right and he's not in control of his own actions right now. He might not really understand what he's doing.

'So Gambit's insane?' Iceman spoke aloud but, as he might have just have been responding to Sinister's words of earlier it didn't matter. Both Sinister and Gambit turned to look at him however, breaking off their own battle of wills.

'Sanity be a matter of perspective homme,' Gambit pointed out archly and then turned back to Sinister, 'So you gon open a tesseract and send de X-men home oui? You an' I bot' know it ain't in your plans to be takin' dem prisoner or anyt'ing, an' dere could be more Sentinels comin'.' Gambit sounded infinitely reasonable.

Sinister looked down on him considering, 'I find myself wondering what the purpose was of this assault, Gambit? If you did not intend to harm Summers and ransom your own life for his what was your intention?'

Gambit grinned hugely like the Cheshire Cat and Scott was not the only X-man who tensed at that moment. Anyone who had ever played cards with Gambit would recognise that expression. 'You sure you really wan' to know?' the Cajun purred dangerously.

Evidently Sinister had never played cards with Gambit, or observed him after he had just won the pot, because he gave the worst possible answer.

'Yes I demand to know.'

Gambit chuckled low and delighted and then glanced over at Lorna with a bright smile on his still glowing face, 'He wan' to know mademoiselle, what you t'ink; should I tell him?'

Lorna looked as confused as the rest of the X-men and seemed unable to think of anything to say. Therefore it was Alex who spoke up. 'Personally, as an impartial participant, I'd actually really like to know what you planned with all this.'

Scott turned to stare blindly and dumbfounded at his brother; he really felt like this indifferent, casually violent, person was not the Alex he had known all these years. He found himself once again cursing the Dark Beast for destroying the person Alex had been.

Gambit however laughed contentedly, 'Alright mon ami, since you asked nicely, I'll tell you.'

He paused and looked pointedly around at the gathered X-men, seeming completely unaware of the precariousness of his own situation - or maybe, and much more worryingly, he just didn't care.

Gambit's dark eyes looked like pits of burned pitch gouged into his glowing skull as he stared at the X-men. Only the shifting of the wildly fluctuating red, white, and pink glow of his face allowed any of them to see the predatory smile that scythed into place.

'Gather 'round mes amis,' he purred, 'for you not gon want to miss a moment o' dis.'

Rogue finished re-arranging the serried rows of her battalion of stuffed toys for the umpteenth time; Hermes the lion stood at the head of the company with Delilah the grey seal and Humphrey the teddy bear on the left and right respectively. In an act of outright insurrection Thomasina the octopus took a headlong dive off the shelf and into the wastepaper basket. Rogue saw this as a sign.

'Alright, that does it; Ah'm goin' after the team.'

She turned around bracing herself for another snide, back-biting jibe from the Remy shade and was therefore surprised to find that he wasn't in the room. A shiver of unease ran down Rogue's spine; there had barely been an hour in the day since the real Remy's departure wherein the shade hadn't been her constant companion. She didn't know whether to be relieved the increasingly spiteful shade wasn't there to mock and insult her or whether to worry that an out of sight Remy was more dangerous than one whispering poison in her ear.

Remy was like that; when faced with him on a day to day basis, even when they'd been getting along, she'd had to resist the desire to beat his brains in with the nearest blunt object to hand, and then when he wasn't under her feet she found herself worrying over where he was and what he was up to.

Rogue snorted, well that was typical, just when the shade could have been useful he wasn't around. Still Rogue didn't need him, she didn't need anyone. Pulling on her brown flight jacket over her uniform Rogue pinned her comm. badge into place and left her room.

The mansion was quiet; Sam was doing yard work out back, Hank was mooning over Threnody in the medlab and of course everyone else was either running wild (Remy) or on the seize and/or rescue mission. It made sneaking out of the grounds a cake walk.

As Rogue was crossing the open plan kitchen/dining room the Remy shade just suddenly appeared on the other side of the kitchen island. His face was pale and his eyes wide.

'Chere – watch out!'

Rogue reacted with ingrained instinct. She jumped and hovered up near the ceiling, fists raised and ready for an attack. A patch of winter sun shade in the corner of the room rippled and erupted, taking the form of the feminine figure that emerged from within.

Landing like a cat, psi-blade drawn, Psylocke dropped neatly down on the floor exactly where Rogue had been standing seconds before. Rogue's blood heated as she realised that Psylocke's blade would have pierced her head had it not been for the shade's warning.

'Go chere – get outta here!' The shade's red eyes were narrowed and fixed on Psylocke, though he made no move to attack, and of course being a figment of Rogue's imagination there wasn't anything he could do to begin with.

'Rogue,' Psylocke looked up, her red facial tattoo standing out like a heated brand against the perfect blackness of Psylocke's shadow form. Rogue bristled in response to the anger she could almost feel radiating from the other woman.

'I need to talk to you, Rogue.' Psylocke rose to her feet and her shadow form faded into normal skin tones. Rogue opened her mouth to feign ignorance or defiance but it was at that moment that Psylocke turned her head sharply and looked directly at the Remy shade. 'I need to talk to both of you.'

Gambit pulled himself upright and glanced at his glowing hands, a slight frown puckering his brow and causing more cascading ripples to run through the uniform glow emanating from his body. He cocked his head towards Sinister.

'Dis is gon fade, right?'

'Eventually; it is a side effect of physical exertion and psychological stimuli.' Sinister sighed in long suffering fashion, 'Either discharge the accumulated energy in a controlled kinetic release or wait for your pulse, respiration, and adrenaline levels to stabilise.'

Gambit nodded, 'D'accord; t'ink I wait den, my charge been actin' funny since Betts fried my brain.' A pause in which time Gambit continued to ignore the gathered X-men in favour of Sinister, 'How come dis never happened before, when my powers went outta whack de firs' time?'

'Because you haemorrhaged before your powers had fully manifested; forcing me to remove a large amount of irreparably damaged brain tissue and thusly rendering you incapable of accessing the majority of your mutagenic potential,' Sinister said with exasperated patience.

'Really Lebeau this 'glow' is nothing more than a sustained excitement of the biokinetic energy stored in the cells of your body. It is barely a fraction of the power your mutant potential once possessed.'

'Sustained excitement?' Gambit actually snickered and then seemed to sway a little more violently on his feet. He took a step forward, almost falling, and Sinister reached out an arm to brace him. Gambit flinched away from him but managed to catch his balance before he fell backwards. Ember eyes narrowed dangerously.

'Don't touch me.' He said very levelly and the shifting palette of light and colour flowing through his body grew more intense in response. Sinister shook his head irritated.

'Enough of this Lebeau; you are clearly headed for another cerebral haemorrhage and I would sooner not have to remove any more of your brain tissue. I require you at least functional, after all.'

Sinister reached for Gambit once again, perhaps intending to take hold of him and open a tessaract away from the Beta-Star complex. Gambit recoiled violently from that hand, jerking away and falling backwards over a large piece of indeterminate debris.

'Enough; do not touch him!'

A bolt of lightning smashed down into the ground in the small piece of thin air between the reaching Sinister and the fallen Gambit. The Cajun hissed in pain at the searing burst of light and scrabbled backwards with one forearm over his blinded eyes. Sinister stopped and turned an indifferent, calculating gaze upon Storm who had stepped forward to face him.

'You would defend Lebeau, knowing what he did while in my employ to those you swore to protect? I had thought you of softer temperament than that, Wind-rider. Do the deaths of those who once offered you fealty mean so little that you would defend the liberty of their betrayer?'

Ororo's eyes widened and her face paled, 'What?' She whispered bloodlessly.

Gambit's head jerked up and he hissed again, like a startled cat, staring at Sinister. 'Non,' he stumbled to his feet anger giving him strength, 'You not gon do dis; you don care if'n dey know or not.' He waved an arm in an angry chopping motion, 'You send de X-men on home, Essex, dis 'tween you an' me alone, oui?'

A ripple of unease went through the X-men from Storm standing a step ahead down to Logan on the edge of the group. The Canadian ground his teeth, 'Shit…..the tunnels – those tunnels.' He speared a hard look over at Gambit who was staring wide-eyed at Storm.

Ororo for her part was staring blankly into space; her eyes wide and glassy.

Rogue swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat and rallied as best she could, 'Betsy, hon, ah'm glad ta see ya better – does Hank know…'

Psylocke tossed her head, shaking the silky tail of her indigo hair back behind her shoulders, 'Save it Rogue.'

She narrowed her eyes keenly moving fluidly towards the kitchen island and the knife rack, 'Did you really think that you could enter my mind, attempt to erase my memories, using my own powers, and I would not know? Bloody hell, Rogue, I'm a sodding telepath; I'm incapable of forgetting except via tampering and I've been trained to recognise telepathic manipulation.'

Rogue felt heat and colour rise in her cheeks, 'Ah don't know what ya're talkin' about sugar. Maybe ah should call Hank.' She reached for her comm. badge. Betsy smiled coldly.

'Oh by all means call him; I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear what you did to me, to a patient under his care no less.'

The English Ninja flicked her gaze back to the empty space occupied by the tense and silent Remy shade.

'I'm sure he'll be equally thrilled to hear about your little psi-ghost too.' Betsy raised her fist and activated her psi-blade, 'Still they do say that one good deed begets another, perhaps I can exorcise the shade for you, my dear?' the other woman's violet eyes were cold as chips of ice.

'No!' Rogue glanced involuntarily at the Remy shade and then dropped down from the ceiling to face Psylocke feet solidly on the floor and hands at her hips. 'Ya keep that blade o' yours away from me, Betts or ya goin' ta be drinkin' ya meals through a straw for the next year, ya hear me?'

Betsy chuckled and slipped demurely up onto one of the barstool seats clustered around the kitchen island. 'Well, as much as I'd enjoy the opportunity to work off some my own aggression I think we have bigger problems. Meaningless posturing and threats are getting us nowhere.' Once again she looked over at the shade. 'I admit I'm not sure how I'm able to see that, but it certainly is convenient.' She gave the Remy shade a slow once over and then fixed her gaze on Rogue.

'You need to get it out of your head Rogue; whatever it is, it isn't doing you any good.' Once again Betsy shot a look over to the shade that remained utterly silent and watchful.

Rogue crossed her arms over her chest and hesitated mulishly halfway between the kitchen island and the door. If she bolted and went after the team Betsy would tell Hank what she had done in using her powers to keep Betsy unconscious, and although Rogue was perfectly prepared to fight her own corner and defend herself if she had to – especially against Betsy (the bitch) what worried her was what the X-men would do when they found out about the Remy shade.

Her eyes met the silent visage of the phantom Remy for a long moment.

The Shade finally bestirred itself, nodding almost respectfully to Rogue. 'It been fun chere, but dis my cue to leave, oui?'

Affixing a lazy grin to his face the shade walked around the kitchen island, arms spread wide, and sauntered over to Betsy.

'Go ahead, ma cherie, do your worst.'

Betsy did not hesitate; her psi-blade lashed out in a cobra like strike and pierced the shade's skull. With nary a whimper or a cry the Remy shade vanished from sight.

'No!' Rogue clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked and suddenly cut adrift in her own mind.

Betsy turned toward her then, opened her mouth to speak and then her violet eyes widened and she collapsed to her knees on the kitchen floor, clutching her head. Rogue could only stand there, watching.

Ororo's visceral gasp of understanding cut through the gathering tension like a falling guillotine. She dropped to her knees where she stood and stared at Remy.

'Tell me it is not so, my friend, tell me you did not have a hand in that horror; I could forgive you for anything but that.'

'What?' Iceman spoke for the rest of the X-men, 'Shit what the hell is going on?'

Cyclops mutely shook his head, 'I'm not sure I want to know.'

'No!' Gambit's face contorted in cold fury, 'No, fuck you Essex, we ain't playin' dis game.' He moved unsteadily toward Sinister without looking at Ororo, who watched him helplessly with tears shimmering unshed upon her eyelashes, Gambit stood almost nose to nose with Sinister.

'Six years homme; six years an' I ain't gon fool for de same tricks, hear me?' His eyes flared as he snarled into Sinister's face.

'Did you t'ink I din't know what you were tryin' to do to me, homme? De blood on my hands, what I done, was by your design. Guilty as sin me, an' I'll burn in hell for every soul dat suffered an' died in dose tunnels, I know dis an' I accept dis, but you ain't gon use my guilt to control me. I will not let you use dem dat died like dat.'

Sinister smiled the smile of the sociopath, 'You surprise me Lebeau; I had not expected this of you.' The smile left his face so fast it was like water through a cracked glass.

'Your rebellion is futile; surely you realise that there is no place in this world for you but the place I have made for you. You are mine, Lebeau, and I will do with you as I will.'

Gambit smiled and it was almost a mirror of the cold sneer and bearing of teeth, which was Sinister's smile, 'I belong to you, oui? Devil's own, me, dat right?' Gambit's voice was a cold, venomous purr the glowing colour beginning to leech from his skin and bones.

'Yes,' Sinister's monosyllabic response was as sibilant as a snake.

Staring at the two, the deliberately evasive Gambit and the cold, egotistical Sinister, Scott was not the only X-man horribly struck by how similar they seemed. The mirror darkly was distorted but some frightening awareness jarred into Scott's head.

It took Scott a moment to realise what it was that so scared him about the scene but then it came to him with blinding clarity; Gambit and Sinister were a match. Perhaps not in powers, or in physical strength, but in sheer cold, secretive, calculation they were a match - or at least could be, with time. They shared the same mindset but put it to different uses; neither man reacted to the world as others did, both were motivated by deeply secret, but disparate passions, both were steeped in misdirection and hidden scheming.

'Goddess no…..' Ororo's exclamation was more moan than words. Jean squeezed Scott's arm for comfort, both hers and his, and Wolverine continued to growl, low and continuous, under his breath as his eyes remained glued to the two men before them. It was like a horrible dream, or some dark play; the X-men could not force themselves to intervene and could do nothing but watch the face off as it progressed.

'D'accord den,' Gambit stepped back from Sinister, nodding as if in response to some unspoken decision on his part. He raised his voice, tilting his still faintly luminous head up and throwing back his shoulders, 'M'sieur Tooth sil vous plait, why don't you come out an' bring our friend?'

A nasty smile sliced over Gambit's face as Sabretooth prowled forward from the shadows, a vicious chuckle bubbling from vicious killer's throat. Wolverine's snarl dropped another octave and he tensed like a coiled spring. Scott instinctively laid a restraining hand on the other man's tree trunk thick arm.

'Easy Wolverine,' he murmured so low only the Canadian and Jean could hear, 'I have the feeling we need to see how this plays out before we can make a move.'

'This ain't good Cyke; yer ain't smellin' what I'm smellin', Gumbo ain't our friend today.' Wolverine argued in heated aside. Before he could say anything in response however Scott was interrupted by the main player in this twisted drama.

'Question, homme, before we get started wit' de big reveal.'

Gambit's voice was almost gratingly chirpy as he cocked his head to the side and eyed Sinister with a smug smirk lighting his draining features.

'Tell me Essex, did you know dat ev'ry Prime Sentinel on patrol has a direct link to central command, via satellite? Dere brains be constantly beamin' up information dat dey seein'; ev'ry mutant dey register, dat mutant's face an' powers gets broadcast to central command instantly.' Gambit's smile was positively evil, 'Fascinatin' non?'

Sinister frowned and the diamond set in the centre of his forehead flashed dully, 'You would not dare.'

Gambit smiled wider as Sabretooth ambled over to him carrying something heavy and faintly round in shape in a piece of torn canvas cloth. Logan's growling became a subliminal roar as his nostrils flared wide; scenting whatever was in the sack.

'You have no clue what I would dare, monsieur Essex.' Gambit's voice was heated steel.

'Your life would be forfeit.' Sinister looked from the sack to Sabretooth's vicious, sharp toothed leer and then to Gambit. The Cajun shrugged elegant and nonchalant despite his torn clothes and bloody body.

'Ask me if I care homme; you already damned my soul - what do I have to live for except screwin' you over, eh?'

Not once taking his eyes from Sinister Gambit held up one hand for the sack. Sabretooth snickered with something approaching glee as he handed over the bag and stepped back.

'Dese new Sentinels, dey real int'restin' non? See, de Sentinel's, dere central processin' core, dere brains, dey can go on functionin', an' broadcastin' data for a whole hour after de head, it been severed from de body.'

Gambit lifted the sack, cradling it in the crook of the elbow of his bad arm and supporting whatever was inside with his good hand, 'Dat's real useful intel to know, oui?'

'I don't like this Cyclops,' Warren had pressed closer to whisper his aside into his leader's ear. 'Whatever Gambit's up to it's not good. We can't just stand here and wait for him to sell us out.'

Ororo rose to her feet and moved towards the group as well but her eyes were still glued to Gambit. Standing just a shade behind the X-men Lorna caught Alex's hand and gave him an emphatic look. Very slowly the pair began to back away from the group.

'See, de funny t'ing is, de o't'er day, when I went a-callin' at de FoH buildin' in St Louis, I bumped int' a Sentinel.'

Gambit shook his head casually looking down on the ground an amused but indifferent smile stroking over his lips.

'Nasty fight me an' m'sieur Sentinel had – got de feelin' me he took a good look at me too.' Gambit looked up at Sinister red eyes sparking, 'Pretty sure dat ev'ry sentinel in America knows who I be now; dat's too bad, oui?'

'You imbecile,' Sinister actually hissed like a hot kettle.

Gambit smiled hugely, 'You t'ink so?' he asked faux thoughtful, 'Me, personally, I t'ink of it as security; you gon struggle to use me to hurt people if'n I'm a marked man, non?'

He stroked his good hand over the lump in the sack. There were dark, wet stains covering the bottom of the cloth, as if whatever was inside was leaking vital fluids.

Sinister shifted and the tassels of his cloak shivered and rubbed together as dry as dead skin in the faint, soot laden, breeze of early evening. 'Do not test me Lebeau; I will kill you if I must.'

Gambit chuckled and shook his head, 'Non, see I don t'ink you will. For den you lose non?' Gambit peered at Sinister curiously for a moment. 'Dere be no lil' Gambit clones runnin' 'bout doin' your dirty work for you, oui? So if'n you lose me, you lose whatever it is you wan' me to do for you dat only I can do.' Gambit's smile was hard and cold and more terrifying even than Sinister's, 'An' you don' like to lose homme; you don like it at all.'

Sinister was silent, utterly silent. For the first time ever he had nothing to say in comeback. His lips drew back slowly from his jagged teeth like a cobra poised to strike but held back by Gambit's implacable confidence.

'Now me, homme,' Gambit continued blithely unconcerned by the twisted fury maligning Sinister's features, 'I don' have anyt'ing to play for lef' in de world. Lost my chance at redemption, lost my woman, lost my family long ago – t'anks to you I lost any chance o' eternal peace as well.' Gambit continued to caress, as he spoke, the bulging sack covered lump in the crook of his elbow like a man might stroke a cat or cradle a baby.

There was something so utterly obscene about that one action that it made Scott Summers feel physically sick; he refused to acknowledge the macabre conviction taking root in his mind that he knew precisely what was really in that sack.

Gambit oblivious to, or just not caring, what affect his words and actions had on his former teammates, continued talking in a low melodious purring voice.

'Never play 'gainst a man wit' not'ing to win an' not'ing lef' to lose homme; it ain't safe.'

The Cajun looked down almost affectionately on the oozing lump in his arms, 'You take a man's hope away, strip him of ev'ryt'ing dat give him his self respect, his belief dat he better den de wors' scum in de gutter an, well,' Gambit looked up and smiled almost gently, 'Scum is all you gon get, oui?'

He shifted the lump in his arms and every X-man grew instantly tense. Lorna and Alex took another step backwards, like rats preparing to flee a sinking ship. Ororo moved then, almost jerkily, breaking free of the twisted spell of Remy's words that held them all in thrall.

'Remy, enough!'

She held out her hands towards him, 'I do not know what you plan to do here but if you were ever my friend in truth, if there is but a germ of the man I believed in still within you, you will come here now.'

She continued to hold her hand out to Gambit in the answering silence even though he gave no acknowledgement that he even heard her. Ororo's voice was firm as she reached out to him but her eyes filled with tears, 'Come here, my friend, do not do this.'

A tremor ran through the Cajun's lean form and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Still Gambit did not look at Ororo or the hand she held out to him, beseeching and hopeful even now. Yet the hitch in his shoulders and the convulsive swallow he took spoke for him; his resolve wavered as Ororo's words sliced through him like a knife. No one moved a muscle, no one dared to breathe, as Gambit hesitated and the soft echo of Ororo's painful plea repeated in all their minds.

There was a moment of shining hope; a moment on the brink where redemption and damnation hovered on the same horizon, held on the knife edge of possibility. Ororo's outreaching hand shook; Gambit's shoulders dropped, his spine straightened, and never once did he look at the woman responsible for bringing him to the X-men in the first place.

'Too late,' the words were almost too soft to hear.

Gambit's hand tightened on the opening sack. His expression smoothed out and he lifted his head, a bitter conviction hardening his features. He continued to look at nothing and no one but the hated eyes of Sinister before him. His choice had been made the moment he had conceived of his plan; he would not back down for the faint hope of a tainted forgiveness that could only ever be false.

'Smile for de Sentinel mes amis!'

Ripping the blood saturated cloth away Gambit hurled the severed head of the sentinel through the air directly at the gathered X-men.