Chapter Thirty-Four: Rebellion

Almogordo De-commissioned Nuclear Research Facility: New Mexico

'Well this is sure creepy.' Rogue murmured dryly shaking her curls off her shoulders and resting one hand on her hip.

'Stay sharp people,' Cyclops regarded the imposing silhouettes of the cooling towers and the rusted chain link fencing suspiciously. He'd been an X-man since he was sixteen and he'd learned in that time that abandoned research facilities were never, ever abandoned and that the greatest dangers lurked in the most innocuous places. 'Phoenix, Psylocke; can you detect any company?'

Both women shook their heads; and both had abstracted looks in their eyes as they concentrated on spreading their senses outward.

'I don't sense any living presences in the facility,' Psylocke confirmed, 'But my probes are being rebuffed by artificial psi-buffers about fifty feet beneath our feet.' She opened her eyes and glanced at Jean for a moment to see if the other woman had anything to add, 'I think the action is underneath us, not in any of the buildings we can see.'

Jean nodded, 'I agree,' she frowned a little, 'I have this strange sense of - something – all around us, but it's not a mind exactly.'

Cyclops frowned, 'What is it?'

Jean sighed, 'I don't know - but I'd bet my bottom dollar for doughnuts that Sinister will have some nasty surprises waiting for us.' She looked at each member of the team in turn, 'I think we should go ahead and assume that Sinister, or someone, knows we're here.'

Wolverine released his claws and the familiar 'snikt' noise seemed very loud in the still New Mexico desert darkness. 'Then let's quit chattin' and get movin'.'

Cyclops sighed and nodded. 'Head for the building over there – it looks more accessible then the cooling towers.'

It wasn't cold yet, but as the ground lost the heat it had absorbed from the sun throughout the day the empty, dusty dry environment grew increasingly chill and inhospitable. The spring sky was a blanket of stars, white as bone fragments and glittering in a cloudless darkness. The rocks and distant mountains faded into a shadowed horizon of mauve and indigo and the cooling towers and squat square brick buildings of the facility seemed as alien as a Shi-Ar homeworld in the silence.

The X-men moved forward; Wolverine and Psylocke scouting ahead. The latter shadow-phasing in and out of the inky pools of blackness and Wolverine's extended bone claws gleaming sickly in the faint star-light.

'You want aerial, Slim?' Archangel twitched his wings for emphasis. 'I know Betts said we need to go underground, but I wouldn't put it past Sinister to have some surprises waiting a little ways off, maybe planning to cut off our exits once we make it into the facility.'

Cyclops nodded, 'Good point War, do it – but keep your comm. on.'

'Sure thing Cyke,' Warren took wing instantly and the backdraught of displaced air kicked up a cloud of gritty dust in his wake. Cyclops boots crunched on the dry and brittle ground. This place really was just plain - sinister.

Fifteen minutes later the team had broken into one of the long, flat roofed, rectangular buildings standing in the shadow of the largest cooling tower. They found themselves in a defunct security room. Cobwebs and dust covered the archaic machinery that still remained. Wolverine paced around the room sniffing the air. The telepaths tried another scan.

'Rogue, Bishop, Storm – do a search of the rest of the buildings. Look for doors, hidden stairways, or elevators – or, hell, anything at all that looks suspicious.'

The three X-men nodded and left without comment. Cyclops walked over to the bank of surveillance equipment a frown touching his brow. Someone had gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to make this place look abandoned; too much trouble in fact. Even a de-commissioned nuclear facility would have a constant, round the clock surveillance team stationed there - if only to deal with the waste products or to make sure no dangerous elements could get hold of the facility for their own ends. This facility, however, didn't even seem to have any CCTV cameras.

'He must be pretty sure no one can get in,' Cyclops muttered out loud. Wolverine turned to glance at him, easily picking up on the under the breath comment. He cocked his head questioningly, the action surprisingly canine in appearance.

'There's no security – everything of value has been stripped out of the upper levels of the facility. The only reason I can think of that Sinister would be so lax is if he was absolutely confident that no one in the upper levels would be able to get below ground.'

Wolverine grunted acknowledgement of that point, 'There ain't no fresh scents anywhere here; just dust and vermin.' He confirmed

Cyclops pinched the bridge of his nose, 'Sinister has his tesseracts, he doesn't need to use a front door. Damn it, there might not be a way down from here at all.'

Bishop entered the room from the corridor, 'The elevator shafts have been filled in. Storm, Rogue, and I have been unable to find any other access points in this building or any of the other outlying structures.' The two women stepped into the room behind Bishop, expressions grim and frustrated.

'What's the plan, Cyke?' Wolverine asked him sardonically.

Scott opened his mouth to say – well he wasn't sure what he'd planned to say – but whatever the case, he was cut off as the bank of cracked and dust filmed monitors to either side of him suddenly began squeaking and popping with static. The ground under all their feet reverberated with the subterranean boom of a huge, distant, generator or power source of some description grinding into life.

A grating computerised voice, vaguely female in harmonics, hissed through sand clogged speakers set up in the corners of the ceiling.

(Sqqqqquuuueeekkc…..) Sysssssteeeeemmmmmm…….Almogordo one…..systemmmmmmm operational…..initate…..(Sqqqqquuuuuuuaaaaccchhh) initiate……..'

Like something out of a hokey horror movie the old fashioned square monitors flashed into black and white life; first there was only a waterfall of lurid, painfully bright grey static then images began to flicker on screen. Cyclops saw a large chamber filled with cables and cords, and what looked like an overgrown rose garden; he saw a structure that resembled a massive old style electricity pylon glowing grey and lurid in the screens.

'What the – ?'

'Cyclops!' Archangel's voice sliced through the communications channels, lighting the red X on Cyclops' on comm. badge a bright red colour. 'I don't know what you just did in there but the cooling towers just lit up like the fourth of July out here.'

(ssssssssssskkkkksskskkks) ………Central Core initiate……sub-temporal spacial rift devices……..Marauders to Central Core transport…….Central Core mandate…….Marauders to Central Core…….(Skkskskskskskskkkkkk).

The images on the screens changed abruptly as if the channel had been flipped. Storm caught her breath abruptly and Rogue surged forward. On the screen something hideous appeared; a crucified human figure, stuck through with cables suspended from a spire in the centre of a hollow circular chamber set high above a narrow walkway. Crouched at the feet of the cruciform figure was a very familiar man in a trench coat.

'Remy!'

Almost as if he had heard her Gambit lifted his face directly towards the screen; blood dribbled down his cheeks from shallow cuts and his eyes were far too wide. A slightly maniacal grin twisted his features as he rose to his feet, arms spread out as if in welcome or surrender - there was blood dripping from his fingers. A loud pop and crackle of static filled the room and suddenly a distorted, fuzzy, but recognisable heavy Cajun accent filtered through the speakers.

'Alors mes braves – welcome to de party!'

Central Core

'Alors mes braves – welcome to de party!'

Remy LeBeau grinned and rose to his feet as the Marauders stepped through the opened tesseract portals and looked around them, getting their bearings in this unfamiliar location. It didn't take long for them to spot him, perched high above their heads, and when they did their faces were a picture.

'Gambit!'

He opened his arms wide and greeted his erstwhile never-quite team mates with a smile; milking th situation for all it was worth. 'Mais oui, mes amis, it is I,' he ruined the moment by winking, 'been a while, non?'

The Marauders response to his pithy greeting was unanimous and less than friendly; in the very heart of Sinister's Garden all hell summarily broke loose.

The Marauders, freshly hatched from cloning tanks and rudely transported from one lab to the mother of all labs, were clearly not in the mood for catching up on old times – they decided to take matters into their own hands, not even waiting for Essex's orders.

Alas when dealing with half a dozen hardened mercenary killers and psychotics, taking matters into their hands did not mean sitting down like grown-ups and talking over their grievances in a calm and controlled manner. Non, it meant attacking the interloper, and the man who was also responsible, to a greater or lesser extent, for turning them over to Sinister in the first place. They opened fire with guns, pointy projectiles, and foot-long harpoons with the intention of turning one charming Cajun into so much hamburger meat.

This suited Gambit just fine.

Remy skipped deftly around and behind the body of Amanda while the fibrous tendrils of cable poked and stroked over his flesh.

'Mon grandmere – let flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.'

He whispered softly and with genuine sentiment ducking down at her feet and grabbing a fistful of the finger width cables trailing from the backs of her legs. He yanked them out by the handful and did not resist as those cables began curling like vines around his palms. Fox-fire sparks ignited in the back of his mind – little whispered secrets in a thousand microchip voices.

The barrage of death aimed at Gambit hit the spire and Amanda first; Remy prayed that what was left of the woman was too far gone to feel pain.

Glowing explosive harpoons and bits of bone shaped throwing stars lanced into the spire, slicing through the thinner data cables in showers of sulphur orange sparks. Bullets and blades sheared into Amanda's atrophied flesh but the body did not react. In fact, it was only Essex himself who raised any objection.

'No you imbeciles - not the machines!' Sinister blasted Harpoon, who happened to be nearest, with an energy beam from his fist. The Inuit smashed into the walkway railings with enough force to snap his spine and fell bonelessly to the ground.

Remy smiled; he hadn't really expected to make much headway with Harpoon anyhow. Let Sinister destroy his own soldiers; it was all good as far as he was concerned.

'Dat's right mon braves, you jus' keep fightin' among yo'sel's an trashin' de place; it's what you good at, oui?'

Remy continued to pluck the serpent-like cables from Amanda's flesh. He did not object as the sinuous squirming pieces of semi-sentient cable moved like leeches over his hands and forearms, latching on with tiny hook like appendages and digging into his skin. He curled his bloody hand around one of the thicker cables intertwined with Amanda's spine. Instantly he felt the flare of information transfer – the Garden trying to peel apart the layers of his mind and plant her own seeds therein. The reality was as unpleasant as the analogy; more so actually.

'Protect de Garden.' He murmured silkily in Amanda's ear. The body shuddered and the energy running through the thick cables sprouting from her abdomen changed colour, from glowing yellow to angry red.

Initiate safety protocols Alpha-Omega nine?

The question was posed inside his own mind. Remy gave the equivalent of a mental shrug; oui, an' one through eight, too, eh? We got a lot of security threats, non?

Understood; Central Core breach – targets locked – lethal response.

Remy smiled; talk about service.

'Mais oui, c'est tres bien; de more lethal de better mon grandmere.' Filaments no larger than the thin hair sprouting from his own forearms extended from the formerly smooth thicker cables riddling Amanda's torso; those filaments were sharp as slicing blades and forced their way through the palm of Remy's hand as he laid it flat against his grandmother's spine. No pain, no gain - but damn this hurt.

Remy squeezed his eyes closed and winced, swallowing back the pain. Around him the central core came alive to the threats all around it. Primary among those threats was the homme screaming his lungs out well below the spire.

'Do not damage the machines – contain the thief or suffer the consequences.'

Remy opened his eyes and blinked through the pain; a smile briefly flashed over his features as he saw that the Marauders and Sinister were having some problems below him. Gun turrets had opened up from secret panels in the walls and were now pelting the walkway with laser fire. The damage was minimal against a nigh near invincible Sinister and a group of bodies that rose from the dead more often then Lazarus, but it was cumulative in effect and distracting as hell.

Plus Sinister was not pleased and that was always a bonus.

'Oui m'sieur, you got you a domestic dispute; Mandy don be likin' how you be treatin' her and her kin.'

Remy smirked – it had been a stroke of sublime stupidity on Sinister's part, going and giving the Garden and Mueller his brain. Mon dieu, Remy had had a life time of trying to deal with being himself and he was still screwing up – there was no way a sensible megalomaniacal genius would go and do something that dumb.

Give a semi-sentient database of mutant evolution the brain of a living mutant; d'accord, there was some sense to that. Give it the brain of a homme that hates you? Non, Remy could not see Essex's reasoning there at all. Not to mention that Remy would be the first to admit he was pretty fucked up in the head; what with his cornucopia of bad habits, the various mismatched neurosis, his tendency to lie like an old rug, his trust issues – the dash of kleptomania…….

Mon dieu, perhaps monsieur Essex had him a really, really well buried masochistic streak after all?

Grabbing hold of one of the body-width dangling data cables that had been sliced in half by Harpoon Remy wrapped the tensile cord around his waist, grabbed it in his hands, and took a running leap off the spire, swinging down towards the walkway like a particularly flash Tarzan. He refrained from uttering any kind of battle cry, however; a homme had to have some standards after all.

At the last moment, when he was still too far from solid ground, a very neatly placed bullet bisected the damaged cable in half at its weak point and suddenly Remy was falling.

Well what goes up, must come down, n'est pas? Yet dying now, like this, would be tres, tres anti-climatic. Better do something about that, non?

Twisting in mid-air Remy caught a faint flash of Grey Grow, perched on the edge of the railings with his scoped rifle aimed and ready. It was only an instant though and in the next he was in movement spinning through the air like a very acrobatic shooting star. As he tumbled he aimed himself directly towards the railing Grey Crow was perched on.

Almogordo Security Pavilion

'Cyke we need ta be in there NOW.' Rogue turned away from the flashing screens as the Marauders and Sinister opened fire on Remy and the weird octopus woman thing. She had no idea what was going on, the audio link kept spritzing in and out.

'I'm open to suggestions Rogue.' Cyclops snapped. He had dispatched Storm and Archangel to check out the cooling tower. Wolverine and Bishop were doing a double check that there were no access routes into the lower reaches of the building and Jean and Psylocke were trying to get a feel for just where the hell Gambit and Sinister actually were.

'Cyclops!' Storm's imperious voice hit every exposed nerve Scott had as it crackled over the comm. channel.

'What is it Storm?' somehow from her tone he did not think it was good news.

'We have company; Warren has spotted a combat helicopter headed this way from the direction of Albuquerque.'

Cyclops blinked in surprise and across the room Rogue tore her attention from the flickering screens long enough to curse before rushing out of the room to take to the skies herself. 'Military?'

'I……do not believe so.' Storm's voice was hesitant. 'I can see something else flying alongside the craft….it looks like…….'

There was a long and painful pause, 'Goddess preserve me, it is Polaris!'

Central Core

Remy reached out desperately and managed to catch one of the lower rungs of the railings. He dangled for a moment, horribly exposed from all angles. The only thing keeping him from a long drop into certain death was the vice-grip he had on the railings and the edge of the walkway.

Looming above him like the spaghetti western visage of death Scalphunter stood on the platform walkway, his big black boots inches from Remy's vulnerable fingers. The muzzle of his multi-purpose rifle pointed steadily at Remy's forehead.

'Hey kid,'

'Monsieur Reaper Man,' Remy gritted out, his grip beginning to loosen. He looked up at the man, 'Dis gon be payback for Arizona den?' he asked mildly.

Scalphunter sneered, teeth flashing in his dark tan face. Without a word the Marauder threw his rifle down and reached to yank Remy up and over the railings to (relative) safety.

Remy fell onto the platform and instantly Scalphunter's knee was pressing down on his back. He felt the cold kiss of a pistol pressed just behind his left ear.

'You're insane, kid. You should have run when you took me out; you can't beat Essex Remy.' The harsh whisper in his ear didn't sound like Scalphunter, instead it sounded like Grey Grow.

'Beaten him already, homme,' Remy whispered back, urgently. 'Got a sample o' his DNA an' sent it to Belle. Mon Capitan Cyclops an' de X-men know de score too; dey gon be on de way soon 'nough.' Remy smiled even with his cheek pressed painfully against the grated floor, 'Mebbe ole Remy ain't gon live to see Essex go down, but de homme goin' down all de same.'

Scalphunter's free hand, which had been knotted in the hair at the back of Remy's head, grew still. Remy could feel the tension running through the man's body. 'Shit.' He whispered.

Remy chose that moment of distraction to surge upwards and twist around. One fist he aimed for Scalphunter's throat and the other hand grabbed hold of the pistol.

Scalphunter gagged falling backwards defensively as Remy kicked him off and jumped upwards. He threw the appropriated gun backwards; the charged metal exploded in mid-air and forced the sneaking Vertigo into open retreat. Still, the reprieve did not last long. Riptide was tearing up a swathe of destruction and headed straight for him.

'An' de fun just keep on comin',' Remy launched himself upward somersaulting over Scalphunter's head and the black swathed mercenary hit the deck to avoid being turned into a mutant pin cushion in a hail of not particularly friendly fire.

'Sil vous plait – dis is not de way to have a conversation!'

Gambit flipped arcing heels over head and head over heels in the air. At the apex of his mad aerial pirouette he tucked his knees in and wrapped his arms around his legs before uncoiling to land easily on the balls of his feet safely on the solid ground of the central core walkway a good twenty feet behind Riptide.

Nevertheless a barrage of shuriken still punctured the air and embedded themselves in the railings, the steel flooring grates, and the walls all around him. It took the whirling dervish less than a second to change course and come for him again. Tempting fate Remy bounced around like Tigger on acid, avoiding the tide of projectiles with natural aplomb. He tried to convince himself he wasn't enjoying it, but didn't succeed; c'est la vie, chalk it up to another personality flaw. He'd been toying with suicide so long he'd come to enjoy flaunting death.

Hell, considering that big old self-destructive streak in him it was a wonder he was even still alive.

'Miss me, miss me; now you got to kiss me,' He sing-songed as he cart-wheeled along the circular walkway dodging more flesh shredding projectiles and a hail of bullets.

Still as much as it was just simple fun to taunt the Marauders Remy did still have a strategy to employ. Therefore he made sure to stop at strategic points around the room; most especially those parts of the chamber where Essex's machines of doom were located. He smiled as one piece of kit after another was rendered useless and in flames in a storm of bullets and bony bits.

Another blast of cold ruby red energy seared across the room and sent Scalphunter, Riptide, and Vertigo scattering like ten pins.

'Cretins - he is trying to provoke you!'

Remy landed and turned to smirk at Sinister across the expanse of the circular chamber. He met the red eyes and saw the fury and the understanding in that cold fire.

Oui Essex knew now; he knew that Remy would not rest until he had turned every weapon the connard had against him. His Jardin, his Marauders – fuck, Remy might as well include himself in that list as well. Oui, this was a full-blown rebellion and the minions were out to take down hell itself.

Still Remy might have been feeling a tad too pleased with himself, however, and clearly someone above or below had decided to take him down a peg or two. He had also forgotten the presence of one very 'special' lady. It didn't matter though, for the lady in question knew how to get a man's attention. Suddenly the entire walkway rocked with the force of a sonic punch and Gambit tumbled into a dazed heap; cheek scraping against the grating as he fell heavily.

'Well cutie, y' asked for it.'

Strong hands grabbed him by the back of his coat and hauled him off the floor; nearly garrotting him at the same time. Before he could react he was slammed backwards into the wall, hard enough to make him see stars. As his vision cleared he had just long enough to see Arclight grinning at him before the Marauder's tongue was forcibly inserted halfway down his throat.

'Mmmmhhhfff!' Savagely the woman once known as Phillippa Sontag wrenched Remy's arms behind his back and twisted his body so he was doubled backwards, in a painful parody of the classic romantic smooch. Unbalanced and with his hands trapped Remy didn't have many options available to him but to dangle from her arms like a damsel in distress.

After a rather long time, during which Remy wondered if it was possible to die of suffocation while being rather brutally French kissed, Arclight abruptly let go of him and he fell gracelessly onto his ass on the floor, lips swollen and bleeding and more than a trifle breathless.

The Marauder was still grinning at him even as she made a show of licking a little of his blood from her mouth, 'Mmmm-mmmm, sweet and spicy, just like I remember.'

'It's de toothpaste I be usin',' Remy told her a little dazedly as he gathered his legs underneath him and rather neatly pivoted and ducked behind the powerfully built woman. 'You save me from your buddies an' m'sieur Essex an' I give you another taste, oui?'

Phillippa laughed, 'And why would I do that? I hate you remember?' The whirling dervish Riptide advanced on them from further up the walkway. Shrapnel flew in all directions from the cyclone he kicked up around him and Remy locked his arms around Phillippa's washboard abs still using her as a human shield.

'Chere – you hate me? Since when?' he asked mock-surprised and with calculated accident allowed one of his hands to brush her right hip, gliding over the jutting bone to stroke down her abdomen. Phillippa grabbed his hand, spun around, and caught him by the throat with the other. Once again Gambit found himself slammed into the wall.

'Since you sold me out to Sinister, asshole.' She snapped, but even so there was a smile playing over her lips, 'You've got to be crazy as 'Hunter said to think I'd ever help you. I'm gonna enjoy watchin' you bleed.'

Remy smiled. In some semblance of team work Riptide had backed off a little to let Arclight have first dips at him, which was exactly as Remy had hoped. 'Phillippa cherie, you got to open your horizons; dere more to life den killin''.

'Not for me; not now,' Something almost human flickered in the dark depth of the woman's unnaturally dull eyes. 'I'm just Sinister's pet killer now.'

Remy's eyes flashed; yes he had definitely heard the faint, tired whisper of resentment and anguish there. He could work with that.

'I can get you out o' your contract, Phillippa; I got you int' dis mess, cherie, I willin' to get you out of it.' He licked his lips as Phillippa's rough edged nails dug into the delicate flesh under his chin. In his peripheral vision he could see Essex advancing on him. He had only seconds to make this count.

'I din't know what he'd do to y'all, Phillippa. I'm sorry. Help me cherie an' I make it so dat he can't get to you no more – break his mental controls. You get to have your free will back – you get to make your own choices again.'

Arclight back-handed him; for a handful of moments all Remy was aware of was the ringing in his ears and the half-numbed tingle running through the muscles of his neck and jaw. The femme had damn near broken his neck with that smack. It took him a moment to realise he'd fallen to his knees.

Arclight twisted her hands into his hair and wrenched his head up, 'Don't even think of charming me.' She hissed. He smiled at her, tonguing the blood oozing thickly from the side of his mouth.

'Who's charmin'?' he asked his tone as cold and crisp as hers, 'I got you int' dis mess, Phillippa, I can get you out o' it.'

'Bullshit.' Arclight's hand tugged harder on his hair forcing Remy to his feet and then jerking his head down and to the side once he was standing. Remy reached out and grabbed the sides of her face with glowing hands. He darted forward and kissed the woman; predictably she let go of his hair. Remy jerked back.

'Mebbe, but ask yo'sel' dis,' Remy spoke rapidly; Sinister was coming and it was now or never. Either he would fail now, because he had debts to pay, or he would win. It was as simple as that; the choice wasn't even his anymore. Remy caught a glimpse of Grey Crow's dark shadow following Sinister.

He focused on Phillippa once more; he put the full force of his personality into his words – but not one word was a lie. 'If'n I'm bullshittin', Phillippa, den why did I call y'all back here, eh? Don' seem to be helpin' my odds havin' de Marauders here, non? – less'n I'm on de level? I will free you from him but I'm gon need your help.'

Arclight blinked once, she opened her mouth to speak but a flash of blood-fire light behind her back caught Remy's attention. He knocked the woman flat and covered her with his body. Sinister's energy beam left ice-fire coldness stinging the air inches above their heads. For a frozen moment in time he stared down into Phillippa Sontag's dead eyes.

'You're a fool.' She told him.

'Mebbe, mebbe not – dat's sort of up to you, non?'

Gambit rolled off Arclight instantly and tumble rolled out of the line of fire. Essex was on to his little game now though and another energy blast was timed just so. The beam tore a hole in the grating just in front of Remy and he had to flip and roll awkwardly to avoid falling through it.

When he regained his balance another energy beam was waiting to smack the air from his lungs and the wits from his head. He ended up in a crumpled heap against a pile of smoking machinery. He heard the triumph in Essex's voice even through the ringing in his ears.

'Contain the thief.'

Almogordo Security Pavilion

Cyclops, Psylocke, and Phoenix all filed out of the building as the apache helicopter touched down in the centre of Almogordo. Storm and Warren remained in the air, and wary, as Polaris touched down in a wave of greenish glowing energy beside the helicopter.

Wolverine and Bishop soon joined the rest of the team as they watched the side door of the helicopter slide open. Wolverine's nose twitched and Rogue's jaw dropped open as a pair of long, smooth, pale feminine legs appeared out of the door of the helicopter and a blonde woman dressed in a dark leather cat-suit accented in deep mauve stepped from the craft.

'Oh mah lord this just gets better and better.' Rogue's voice was poison.

The blonde woman turned her face towards them and strode confidently forward. As she did so Scott finally placed her. His eyes widened behind his visor as he recognised Gambit's estranged wife.

'Bon nuit, X-men,' Belladonna Boudreaux slithered over to them. There was a mini-uzi strapped to her back and a number of other guns and knives secured to her shapely figure in numerous places. The other person to step from the helicopter should not have been a surprise to Scott but he was.

'Alex.' It was almost a groan. Alex and Lorna walked side by side in Belladonna Boudreaux's wake.

Rogue stepped forward as Cyclops gave the signal for Storm and Warrant to land and get into formation. He didn't think the newly arrived trio meant trouble but he wasn't taking any chances.

'Belle whatchure doin' here?' Rogue demanded planting herself firmly between the blonde woman and the rest of the team. A pair of cool, amused violet eyes flicked over the X-men's Mississippi Belle with benign contempt.

'Fulfillin' a contract, chere,' the Cajun woman all but purred and gestured behind her for something in a slim-line case Alex promptly handed to the woman. Belle regarded the assembled X-men with the detached interest of a hunting cat.

'Tell me, what de X-men be doin' here?'

Central Core

A wave of nausea staggered Remy has he tried to find his feet. His vision swam with ugly black and sickly yellow spots and he spied Vertigo standing at the curve of the walkway fifty yards ahead. She waved at him with an impish grin before reaching out with a hand towards him once more intensifying the dizziness that made the bottom drop out of his stomach.

A cold hand, like the grip of death, scruffed Remy at the back of the neck, 'Your fun is over, LeBeau; consider your rebellion quelled.'

Sinister picked him up by the back of the neck and hurled him forward. Dizzy and sick Remy didn't have a chance of protecting himself from the impact with the metal wall.

Boneless he slid down the wall; he could feel the jarring burn of cracked ribs. The whole right side of his body was numb from his shoulder down to his hip; pins and needles erupted throughout his body in agonising waves a split second later. He coughed a mouthful of blood and watched as Essex advanced on him with Vertigo at his right and Riptide to his left.

The red diamond in the centre of Essex's forehead erupted into cold light. 'Did you really think you could 'save' them, thief?' he asked chill and mocking. The smile was no more than the bearing of serrated teeth. 'You are fool indeed; the Marauders are mine - just as you are.'

Remy didn't waste breath on a snappy rejoinder; he moved sluggishly and suspected that his right shoulder was dislocated. He stared up over Sinister's shoulder. He saw Scalphunter and Arclight near the chamber door; they were talking, heads close together. Remy realised he was holding his breath; he saw Scalphunter look at him. He saw the other man nod once and something relaxed fractionally inside him.

He didn't care what happened to him, so long as Essex couldn't use him to hurt another living soul again, but it wasn't just the Morlocks Remy owed a blood debt too. Once upon a time the Marauders had been more than just mindless killers. Once upon a time they had been people. Bad, crooked people, oui, but then Remy hadn't been any better, not really. The only difference between him and Phillippa, say, was that he hadn't been quite as broken as she was when Sinister got his hooks in, and he'd managed to escape.

The damned should stand by the damned. He'd made a number of promises on his life and soul and one of those was to Phillippa and Grey Crow. Everyone had the right to seek redemption; everyone.

Essex reached down and wrapped his hand around Remy's throat once more. 'Prism, bring me the neural disruptor.'

The silent, and mostly pointless, crystal Marauder stepped forward from whatever shadowy space he had found to loiter in. He handed Sinister a long metal wand looking device. The thin cylinder was made of black metal and was indented on the base with a diamond motif; Remy felt his eyes widen. He started to struggle but it was no good, especially with one side of his body useless and numb.

'No!'

He kicked and bucked as Prism reached down to hold his head steady and Riptide kept his body pinned. Vertigo focused her sickening powers directly on him and Remy shuddered, vision shattering into lurid pin-wheels of green and yellow and red; senses swimming.

'I had hoped that simple survival reflex would make this move unnecessary.' Essex spoke through the psychedelic whirlwind inside Remy's mind; his words leaden and biting. The cold fingers swept the sweat tussled hair from Remy's brow almost gently and placed the indented end of the strange device against the very centre of his brow.

'In truth I had hoped to keep you mobile and utilise your skills as a thief for some years yet,' Essex was still droning on, his voice distorted by Vertigo's power. 'Alas your rebelliousness and propensity towards misguided acts of suicidal altruism have forced my hand. Goodbye LeBeau, know that you brought this fate on yourself.'

Essex pressed the end of the device into his forehead a little harder, enough that the diamond motif on the end started to leave a mark; a trickle of blood rolled down the bridge of his nose as the end of the wand broke his skin. Remy tried to jerk his head to the side but the combination of Prism's hold and Vertigo's spell defeated him. Against his forehead the device began to feel hot; like a concentrated laser focused through the diamond indentation.

Remy's heart thundered in his chest; he could feel the blood pounding through his veins and taste the metallic bite of adrenaline and fear on the tip of his tongue. He could not move, his half-numbed right hand was pinned under his body and his left was caught in Vertigo's surprisingly strong hold.

'No!'

Remy screamed again as something shot out of the end of the metal tube; something that burned and froze and corroded all at once. Remy had no idea what it was in truth but it felt like a needle the width of a pencil had just been punched through his skull with the force of a pneumatic drill. He screamed and he screamed as that drill bit bored into his brain.

The fingers of his right hand, still tangled with the cheese-wire sharp filaments of data cable cutting into his palms, scrabbled over the floor. The tips of his questing fingers brushed against the base of one of the large data cables sprouting from the wall and traversing the expanse of the chamber to the spire. The cable was one of the main arteries of power funnelling back and forth from the central core.

'Nooooooooo!'

Power and panic surged as one; his right hand closed around the cable. He saw red, he saw pink, he saw white, and he saw gas flame blue. A circuit closed in his mind and the Garden roared in fury against his pain.

'Nooooooo!' Remy howled as he felt Sinister's device trying to empty his mind of everything that made him who he was and gave him his will to resist. It felt like he was being cored like an apple, hollowed out, - his soul cauterised. He would become just like the rest of the Marauders; a dead man walking with no choices of his own.

Desperately he reached out with his mind; reached out to the Garden even as the Garden reached for him.

The agony impaling his mind became the focus of his entire existence; the world exploded and imploded at the same time in a crescendo of rage and defiance. He thought he heard gun shots and the reverberating boom of a sonic blast. He thought he heard Essex snarl in rage but he couldn't be sure. It was all a distant echo however. All he cared about was the surcease in the monstrous pain in his head. Remy threw his head back and howled.

'LET GO OF ME!'

Almogordo Nuclear Facility

Rogue's eyes narrowed at the feigned confusion in Belle's eyes and voice, 'We're here ta rescue one o' our own.' She snapped. Belle laughed sweetly.

'D'accord den I not be needin' to kill you all.' Deftly the Cajun woman side-stepped Rogue and fixed her eyes on Cyclops.

'Mon Capitan Summers,' her voice rubbed against Scott's ears like warmed black velvet, 'we seem to have an objective in common, non? You are 'ere for m' husband, as am I.' she offered up her free hand, 'I offer a temporary partnership; do you accept?'

Cyclops looked beyond the Cajun assassin to his brother and Lorna. Alex shrugged, 'The assassins have a silver bullet, Scottie; made to order just for Sinister.' He smiled crookedly, 'It's do or die time.'

Belle smiled and interposed herself between Scott's and his brother smoothly. She offered him the slim-lined metal case. 'It be untested, but dis syringe full o' trouble should deal de diamond headed connard some serious hurtin'.' Her smile twitched, 'It made o' a very special recipe; if'n m' husband were to know what's in it, well, he would either laugh hisself sick or cry blood.'

Cyclops almost unconsciously reached out for the case and opened it. In a bed of lilac satin sat a large pneumatic syringe full of a lurid bright red liquid. He looked from the case to Belladonna. The woman smiled tight-lipped.

'And you're giving this to me?' he asked incredulous.

'M' husband 'ad very strict instructions – he insisted dat you be given de weapon to use against de homme.'

She frowned faintly and her voice shifted clearly in imitation of Gambit's speech patterns, "Summers an' his woman been hurt de most o' any left livin' by Essex; Summers got him a good 'ead on his shoulders. He should decide if'n de connard live or die."

'Why? Why give this to me?' Cyclops stared, 'Gambit refused to confide or trust in any of us; why is he giving up his greatest weapon now?'

Belladonna Boudreaux merely looked at him, almost pityingly. 'Ah cher, you don' know my husband at all, do you?'

A tension headache pinged to life at the back of Scott's head. He looked beyond the enigmatic Cajun to someone he hoped, perhaps vainly, would offer some sense. Polaris met his eyes and shrugged. Nevertheless she did speak up.

'Haven't you figured it out yet Scott?' she asked tiredly. 'Don't you realise what Gambit's trying to do? What he's trying to do for the good of the X-men?'

Cyclops was about to demand an explanation when he felt, rather than saw, Jean stagger. Through their psychic rapport he felt a wave of shock and pain. Jean gasped and grabbed her head in her hands.

'Oh god – Remy!' Her green eyes grew huge and glazed as her psychic senses lashed out. 'Scott! I can hear him! I can hear him screaming in my mind!'

Scott pivoted turning to hold his wife. The New Mexico sky ignited into supernova light. He spun around to stare as the largest of the cooling towers erupted with energy.

'Oh shit.' Archangel hissed through his teeth as X-man and assassin alike gaped at the cooling tower.

Thousands of tonnes of reinforced concrete lit up like a massive fuchsia Christmas tree setting the night sky on fire with lurid pink sparks; it was almost beautiful.

'X-men – everyone - fall back!' Cyclops barked out seconds before the cooling tower blew to kingdom come.