Confident with the information he'd gathered over the past few weeks, plus what he'd learned from Rogue, Gambit was ready to set a date. It was time to uncover the truth about The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. He decided on a Friday, as the residents may be out enjoying pre-weekend diversions. But when he looked at the calendar, he saw the following Friday bore an ominous date: October 31st, Halloween. Having been fed a healthy diet of superstition, myths, and portents of doom growing up, Gambit felt a chill go up his spine.

He prepped his gear, laying his kit out on the bed. Lock picks, wires, scoring tool, pocket knife, scissors...this poky thingy that one normally uses to extricate meat from stubborn shellfish (very handy). He organized the bits and bobs into pouches on a fabric case holder, folded it, rolled it and tied it. Cable, grappling gear, infrared binoculars, keypad break, head-mount flashlight, a can of WD-40, baby powder (who needs chafing?). When he pulled out his work attire from where it was hidden under the bed, he looked at his two options. His old duds, the Guild uniform he'd always worn. Or his new suit; he was going to make a name for himself in that getup. No one was going to forget about Gambit in a hurry wearing this, that's for sure. Weighing his options, he decided to stick with the old: ragged, gray-green tunic over black long-sleeved shirt, as the sleeves of his tunic had been ripped from his arms three years ago. Brown breeches, green cowl and hooded cape, soft leather boots, belt. There would be plenty of time to break in the new gear, once he got his powers back under control, his life back on track.

Lastly, several decks of playing cards, his bo staff in two pieces, retracted for now, to be kept in a holster on his thigh.

He had stopped at the library one last time to gather his research, return his carrel key. They seemed sad to see him go. He didn't have a forwarding address, a phone number, or "electronic-mail." Lara had apologized that the final article hadn't arrived in time for his departure.

"Harvard has a copy, but it's in offsite storage," Lara said. "But next week…"

"That's all right, Lara," he told her. "You never said a thing about what I was looking at, did you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not," she told him. "Patron privacy is part of our code of ethics. Federal agents couldn't drag it out of me, not under threats of torture or death!"

"What a bunch of radical militants you all are," he told her.

"John, this place is for everybody," she gestured to the surrounding library. "All people, all genders, all incomes, human or mutant. We serve all comers and treat everyone the same. You need a book? A computer to fill out a job application? Newspaper? Music? Weird, vaguely creepy research studies? Somewhere to run your kids out of energy? Or just a place to come in out of the cold. No judgments. The door is open."

He considered her. "You do God's work. Also, your boyfriend is a lucky man," he said to her.

"Oh, he knows. I tell him that every day."

Remy pulled on his Guild uniform. It was a little loose in the breeches. He supposed he'd lost some weight. Top Ramen wasn't cutting it. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt a wave of nostalgia for the family he'd lost. Maybe once he found some answers, got some help with his powers, he could see them again. If he hadn't burned all his bridges. He scraped his long hair into a ponytail, and bound it with a bit of leather. Now he really looked the part of Guild thief. Hey, maybe he could go Trick-or-Treating after, but he didn't think anyone would guess what his costume was.

"Don't you know? I'm the last vestige of the Celtic druidical mysticism of ancient Gaul, specifically from the region now known as France! Isn't it obvious?" He should probably just go as Spiderman instead.

He pulled on the remainder of his kit, hid tools in various pockets, playing cards at the ready at his hip and up his sleeves. Bo staff on his left thigh, cables and grappling gear at his belt. He'd be going in through the tunnel under the mansion. He was less fearful of discovering mutant prisoners in the basement when Rogue had denounced the X-Terminators. Gambit felt some reassurance about that and crossed off Marvel Girl, Cyclops, Angel, Iceman and Beast from his list. Five less things to worry about. Xavier, also gone. Added: Kurt, Colossus (Gentle Giant), and Kitty (possibly the Ghost Girl entry), and Ororo. Goddess, enh? Like a weather goddess maybe? Remy had been told multiple times by multiple family members that his imagination was out of control, so maybe the Weather Witch hypothesis was a stretch. Then there was a score of younger mutants, all wild cards. And Wet Blanket, whoever that was.

It was late afternoon. He'd spied several porches decorated with jack-o-lanterns, little costumed kids with empty bags, eager to begin their begging. Gambit was hidden just off a local highway. The highway intersected with the trajectory of the mysterious NYC-bound tunnel. At the intersection, there was a small creek, and the road went over a small bridge. Under the bridge, the side of the cement tunnel was exposed. One might assume it was for runoff, if you didn't know it led straight to the school. Remy pulled himself under the bridge. There were bats under there, and as he moved towards the side of the tunnel, they took flight. Very spooky.

Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? We got some work to do now…

Gambit assumed he'd have to blow a hole in the side of the tunnel, but there was a small metal grate there, perhaps for ventilation. Gambit removed it with a time delay charge of his powers. The grate fell from the opening and Gambit grabbed it before it could fall into the creek below. He pulled himself into the tunnel through the small opening. The interior was dark, a little damp, but not as wet as he'd imagined it would be. He could see there were footprints in the tunnel floor going back and forth. He replaced the grate, wedged it in place.

First things first. Let's do a little check-in with the Big Guy. Gambit took a knee, crossed himself. Began the Lord's Prayer. "'...Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil, Amen.' Okay, let's do this thing. Guardian angel? You good? Saint Étienne, mon patron protecteur? Ready to party? Let's get to getting."

Gambit pulled up his hood, drew the cowl up in front of his mouth and nose. He began a steady silent pace down the tunnel, alert to all sounds. It became amazingly easy to tamp down the inner glow once he'd reached a steady flow state. He had wrapped his chest several times with an elastic bandage, to dampen the glow. Maybe next time, he could leave the flashlight behind and lighten the load. Just use the twinkle twinkle little star in his chest.

He was about two miles from the School. Gambit came to a fork in the tunnel, where it opened up into a larger rectangular space where various pipes and passages interconnected. To continue straight would take him to the school. To go southwest would take him to...New Jersey? He paused. A cold wind blew from Jersey, bringing a whiff of oil, garbage, and was that a faint ammonia scent...of cat? He shuddered.

Gambit continued onwards. As he drew nearer to the School, he became cautious, looking for signs of security equipment. He doubted the door to their sub-basement would be left ajar. He came to a turning in the tunnel and paused. The access point to the School should be to his left. Gambit peered around the corner. It was very dark, even for his eyes. Gambit retrieved his binoculars, peered down the short length of the tunnel, looking at a world in black and green. He spied a large, round steel door with a wheel in the center. Next to the door, a keypad lock. Above the door was a security camera, protected under a small black glass dome. Gambit crouched and retrieved a bit of gravel. He charged it, and flicked it at the camera's dome. The little dome fractured, but did not shatter. Creating a screen of fissured glass to obstruct the camera's view. Gambit approached the lock, lifted the protective plastic cover, and with his crab-claw pokey-thing, pulled off the touch-screen module for entering the PIN code. Beneath that was a connector, which he pulled from the module. A low level charge from his powers short-circuited the internal electronics, preventing a tampering alarm from going off and rebooting the system again and again as it reset the failed-attempts counter. Gambit took out his breaker, connected it to the lock via a pair of twisted wires, pressed GO and watched as the breaker began rolling through the four digit combinations, 0000, 0001, 0002, and so on, at lightning fast speed. It had an amazingly fast processing time, as he'd appropriated the tech from S.H.I.E.L.D. years ago. The jet theft was just a diversion.

A song played in his head as he watched the numbers tick by, a little ditty out of 1970s era Sesame Street: One-two-three-four, five...six-seven-eight-nine, ten...eleven, TWELVE. Doo doo do doo dooo….

The breaker clicked through three numbers and Gambit's grin widened as his anticipation grew. The final number clicked into place with a soft beep. Number Seven! Finally, a lucky sign! He removed the breaker, reinstalled the keypad module, and pressed ENTER. The lock in the door disengaged. A liberal application of WD-40 on the wheel and hinges, then a short wait while the oil did it's job. He tossed a grappling line over an overhead pipe while he waited, hooked it to his belt. Gambit took the wheel and slowly turned it. The door still squeaked a bit, and made a clanging sound that echoed down the tunnel. Gambit grimaced, listening for any indication that he'd been detected. He clung to the wheel on the door, pushed off the wall with a booted foot, and swung the door open, with himself hidden behind it. He pulled himself upward by the grappling line, inverted himself, and peered into the sub-basement from the top half of the door, Spidey-style. Gambit spied another security camera just inside. Another pebble and the camera was compromised. Flippity-flip from the grappling gear, to land silently on the sub-basement floor on all fours, uncouple himself from the gear.

Spiderman, Spiderman...does whatever a spider can...

The interior hall floors, wall, and ceiling were composed of panels of sheet metal, an odd choice for interior decor. There was a whisper of electronics clicking and data transference coming from behind the panels. The whole place felt alive. Gambit walked silently. Sneak, sneak, sneaky, sneak-sneak. He came upon what seemed to be the security surveillance room. It was unmanned. If Gambit could barely figure out Microsoft Windows 3.1, he wasn't going to have a prayer with the machinery in this room. The monitors did give him an idea of where the cameras were positioned though. Onwards and upwards, he thought, to the elevator shaft. He came to a perpendicular corridor to his left. There were several rooms along its length, all with sliding doors in the open position. Holding cells. Gambit frowned. They all appeared to be empty, but it bode ill that a school should have its own prison. As he passed an infirmary, he thought he detected the sound of a voice speaking.

"Anything to report, Rogue?"

Gambit froze.

"A whole lot of nothin', Bets. Ah'm cold and Ah'm bored. Ah guess no news is good news. Anything from the others?"

Rogue's answering voice seemed to ring in a hollow space. Gambit crept forward to an open door. He peered inside. It appeared a giant technological atrium, or a silo, stretching up from the sub-basement and into the basement level above. A long walkway was suspended in the center of the big empty space, a terminal of some kind at its center.

"No word from Wolverine," Bets answered. Her voice was upper-crust London, posh.

Posh Spice...Remy's brain whispered. Oh no, Gambit thought, bracing for what would happen next.

If you wannabe my lover...you gotta get with my friends!

No, no, shut up shut up shut up! Gambit screamed at himself.

At the terminal in the center of the room, a purple haired woman's head turned in his direction.

Slam your body down and wind it all around...Slam your body down and zigazig ah!

The woman paused, shook her head in annoyance, then returned to her work.

Gambit exhaled and moved as quickly away as possible. Somehow he'd missed accounting for "Bets." One of the new students, perhaps?

The next turning should get him to the central corridor with the elevator shaft. He paused at the turning and peered around the corner. The elevator was descending. It let off a soft chime as it reached the sub-basement level. The doors swished open. Gambit heard a strange grumbling and clicking noise. Something was coming out of the elevator. Something purple. Gambit's eyes couldn't make sense of it. It looked like the tail-end of a...dragon? A purple dragon, about the size of a large cat, emerged backwards from the elevator. Gambit pulled himself back from the turning, his back pressed against the wall. He was conflicted. One: there's a dragon coming down the hall. Two: There's a dragon! Coming down the hall! Dragons exist! Baby dragon! Real life Norbert!

Get a grip, man! Gambit told himself. He peeked again. The little dragon was carrying what appeared to be a bag of microwave popcorn. As it trotted along, popped kernels tumbled from the bag. By some miracle, it was trotting away from where Gambit stood. He waited until the creature had reached the end of the corridor before he moved forward to hide behind the elevator shaft. He peered around the elevator in time to see the dragon get its head stuck in the bag of popcorn. It sneezed, and the bag shot off down the hall and out of sight. Popcorn exploded everywhere. The creature pursued its quarry, scampering down the hall.

Gambit stood for a moment. Held his arm in front of his face, pinched himself. Is this real life?

Turning to the elevator doors now, he pried them open with a flat bar of metal he usually used for breaking into vehicles. The doors whispered open and he stepped into the car. Gambit popped open the access panel in the ceiling and climbed through. On top of the car, he found a small metal ladder on the interior wall of the shaft. He climbed up it, past the basement level to the ground floor. He paused to listen at the doors, searching with his senses to detect any sound or movement beyond. Gambit climbed into the shallow door well, forced open the sliding doors.

He was now in the School building proper, much different than the technological wizardry below. Dark wood floors, white plaster walls, soft furnishings, rugs, gentle lighting, art on the walls. He was in the space just behind the main staircase in the foyer. The foyer was dark. Before leaving the shelter of the curving staircase, he cast his senses about. There was music coming from one of the upper floors. It sounded like...the Monster Mash? So, a Halloween party for the kiddies. Perfect.

Xavier's office was to the left from where he stood at the staircase. Gambit moved across the foyer like a wraith, paused in the deep well of the door, which was paneled in dark wood. A brass doorknob under his hand. The door was unlocked. He passed through and closed the door silently behind him. Gambit took a quick survey of his surroundings. Wood floor, covered in a lush decorative rug, two mullioned picture windows flanking the corner, desk with blotter and lamp, two chairs for guests, a settee under one window, a bookcase along the rear wall behind the desk chair. To his left, rows and rows of wood filing cabinets. He made a beeline for them. He slid the first drawer open. The entirety was full of hanging files with the name, 'Grey, Jean' on the tabs. Ms. Grey must have been interesting indeed. He removed the first folder to examine the contents, clicked on his flashlight. A profile of the woman. She was the telepath/telekinetic. Marvel Girl, then? What he read there filled him with a mix of joy and relief. The earliest files on Ms. Grey, then a small child, described how Xavier had portioned off the telepathic abilities of his young charge, sparing her from further trauma until such a time that she could control her powers. Could it be that easy, Gambit wondered? This proves it can be done! Jean's file was extensive, she must have gone on living her life after this, without the burden of uncontrollable powers weighing her down. There followed a sensation of missed opportunity, however. Xavier was gone. So who could perform this same operation for him? He scanned his internal catalog. There was a telepath at the New York City Hellfire Club. He could approach her. It would be awful to go there, he might have to make an exchange for services, but it was possible. It could be worth it. Emma Frost was a beautiful, sensual woman, maybe he could...win her over?

Gambit replaced the file, closed the drawer. He exhaled. He had another clue, another lifeline to cling to. He rose to leave, thinking to simply escape through the window, then paused. On a whim, he opened the drawer marked with an R. There was Rogue's file, a single file, not a drawer full like Jean Grey. He removed it, hesitated, then glanced inside. Personality disorder. Uncontrollable powers. Manipulation- and fear-based trauma. Gambit quickly shut the file and replaced it, feeling bad for having looked. Feeling, at the same time, a deep connection to her. And too, why did Rogue merit only one folder, and Jean a drawer? Why wasn't she getting the same amount of attention, of help? He quietly pushed the drawer closed.

The desk lamp turned on. All at once Gambit felt a rush of sudden fear, filing his mouth the taste of metal. His heart throbbed in his throat. He'd been discovered. Gambit stood and turned, anxious about who he might find. A tall figure stood before the corner windows. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, a pale red diamond on his forehead. There came a whispering rustle of fabric, a strange sort of cape. It seemed Dr. Essex had procured himself a new ensemble.

Essex is here, Gambit thought. He's part of this?

"Have you discovered the answers you seek, Monsieur LeBeau?" Essex asked conversationally, palming a bust of Sigmund Freud from the corner of Xavier's desk. "You believe you now have options? I can assure you, your only option - the only choice that was ever available to you - is to come with me. To serve me."

Gambit shook his head, slowly, not taking his eyes from the demon before him. He imagined himself taking a quick side-step towards the window, throwing himself though it, but before he could turn his vision to action, he found himself frozen on the spot. Held in the familiar grip of a telekinetic force. His stomach revolted in fear.

"Do not fight. Come peacefully. Listen to me, LeBeau. Even now, the young woman you fancy is passing by on her rounds. Should you decide to revolt, there may occur an...accident. Surely you do not want to be the unwitting cause of her untimely death? See her fall from the sky...a charred corpse. A casualty of your idiocy?"

Essex raised a hand in Gambit's direction, beckoned him forward with his fore and middle fingers. "Come along, then."

Gambit released a sound that was half sob, half scream. Choking, he took a step forward of his own free will. Another put him within a few feet of Essex. Behind him, in the window, it was just as Essex had said. A woman flew past, silhouetted against the dark night sky. He could see the moonlight reflected on the bright white stripe of her hair. Maybe he could delay, until she'd flown past? Another step and he was within range of Essex. A pale hand reached for his shoulder.

The door to the office opened. Gambit turned to look, with Essex's hand hovering over him like the blade of a guillotine. A man in the doorway looked up from the item he carried, it appeared to be…

A Twix bar. On the man's head, a pair of glittering devil horns. The man's countenance was dour, as if he wanted to be no part of the fun. Then he looked up from his candy and took in the sight of both Gambit and Essex in a frozen tableau. His blue eyes widened.

Gambit's head snapped from Essex to the new arrival, then back again. He wanted to scream. Instead, an unhinged hysterical laugh bubbled up his throat. He put both hands to his skull, feeling tears come to his eyes.

He was trapped between Essex on his left, and to his right, the Master of Magnetism: Magneto.

Remy's random references:

Scooby Doo Where Are You? cartoon

Twelve Song, Pinball Number Count - Sesame Street

Wannabe - The Spice Girls

Norbert - Harry Potter again

Next: Run Away!