Chew your way into a new world. Munch leaves. Molt. Rest. Molt again. Self-reinvention is everything. Spin many nests. Cultivate stinging bristles. Don't get sentimental about your discarded skins. Grow quickly. Develop a yen for nettles….Behave cryptically to confuse predators: change colors, spit, or feign death. If all else fails, taste terrible.
-"Advice from a caterpillar," Dearest Creature, Amy Gerstler

Polaris thought it too coincidental that a clone with the powers to magically manipulate a techno-organic plant system should suddenly appear to murder Gambit in his sleep. Nil himself had admitted to making an attempt on Gambit's life in the past; she thought to find out why. Polaris wondered where the creep had gone, and if he'd pursued his so-called quest to find Sage. When Polaris pinged the woman, Sage claimed she'd not seen nor spoken to the mutant in question. Judging by Sage's expression as she saw it through her yellow lenses, Polaris realized it was now a competition between the two of them. Who would be the first to find Mister Techno-Wizard? Let the best woman win.

"Somehow, I knew I would find you here," Polaris told the thief and sat on the curved leather booth. It was plush, the leather was smooth, with minimal seams and no decoration. Easy cleanup, Polaris supposed and grimaced. The seating echoed the curve of the surrounding wall, which was paneled in a polished surface that reflected the scene before them. The door to the dimly lit room was partially concealed by a thick damask drapery which muffled the thump of music from the performance area beyond. There was a silver pole in the room's center. A young woman, her bare thighs holding herself in place on the pole, acrobatically dangled upside down while moving in a slow twirl downward, arms outstretched. Two other scantily clad ladies sat on the booth as well. They were all sharing a bottle of champagne with the technomancer.

Nil grinned at Polaris. "I guess there are some worthwhile things to be had on this crappy island, after all."

"I thought you were on a quest," Polaris said, regarding him with narrowed eyes. "For true love."

"Every Odysseus encounters...a few Sirens," Nil hugged both nubile women to his sides. They giggled and clinked their glasses together. Cheers to that.

"Dare I ask where you procured the currency to afford the company of these Sirens?" Polaris asked, tone drier than Death Valley.

Nil thought this hilarious. The three girls joined in the laughter, though Polaris thought it unlikely they knew what he was laughing about. Polaris had half a mind to magnetically wrap the stripper pole around the thief's neck.

"Ladies, do you mind giving me a few moments alone with your Lothario," Polaris didn't ask.

"I thought your name was Nil," one of the girls said accusingly and poked the thief in his bare pectoral.

"Get out!" Polaris shouted.

"We still get paid for this, right?" the girl on the pole asked. Polaris wordlessly pointed to the exit.

"Here we are, alone again," Nil said and draped his arms over the back of the booth. "I'm beginning to think you're really into the Nil-ster."

Polaris flexed her fingers and the air hummed. "Oh my god, if you speak in third person again, I will murder you and then have Blob sit on your egg."

"Is that like a Krakoan euphemism?" Nil asked, confused. He scratched his beard with a finger.

Polaris breathed hard through her nostrils. "I would like to continue our earlier dialogue," she said, marshalling all her reserves of calm. "Regarding your attempt on Gambit's life."

"Oh, that. Very well," Nil said, his mischievous black eyes looking up at the mirrored ceiling.

"It seems he must have forgiven you for your misdeeds," Polaris continued. "Care to share your motive? Why did you want to murder Remy LeBeau?"

Nil gave a fake frown. "I'm sure I must have had some reason," he said, pretending to think.

"Power? Control of the Guild?" Polaris suggested.

"Sure. Let's say that," Nil replied dismissively, head bobbing side to side. "Just your basic power-hungry shackle and cackle criminal."

Polaris felt her eyebrows relax somewhat. She settled back into the booth. "You come across as someone who is more into showmanship than ownership."

Now Nil regarded her with sly recognition. His grin slid into a wicked half-smile. "I like when we talk about me."

"What would you have done differently, if you were the leader of the Guild?" Polaris asked.

Nil looked down at his flute of champagne, watching the bubbles rise in the glass. "What an interesting question."

"I suspect you don't have an answer."

Nil's eyes flicked back to her own. "Jinkies," he said. "How astute, Velma."

"So why did you do it?" Polaris pressed. "Try to take Gambit's crown?"

Nil placed his glass on the small table that held the ice bucket with the champagne. "Can I offer you a glass? Veuve Clicquot, c'est magnifique."

"I don't drink on the job."

"Puritan?"

"Fair warning. I might have attempted to murder a few people while inebrated."

"Ah," Nil said. "Thanks for the pro tip. I could order you some sparkling cider?"

"Thanks, no."

"So...no strip'pole, no nipple, no tipple. Let me instead tell you a story to help keep you entertained," Nil's legs were crossed, an ankle over a knee. His foot bobbed in a rhythm as he spoke. "There once was a British officer, high brass. He had a splendid house in Delhi. A Punjabi girl would spit shine the boots he wore to step on her nation's neck. He had his way with her, and when it became apparent she was pregnant, he tossed her out of his household. She fled to Jhansi where a beautiful queen took mercy on her and her newborn son. Brought them into her palace and treated them as royalty. We lived quite peacefully this way for a few years, until the British arrived to oppress the people's rebellion. Our royal household retreated to a nearby fort, where that same British officer ordered the deaths of any Indian over the age of sixteen. My poor mother had just reached her eighteenth year. Me, I was five. Our queen was shot and killed in the street. She went down fighting. Her body was burned at her request by a hermit, rather than let the British take her, defile her."

"Sixty of us remained. We fled to the forests of Bundelkhand, where I survived like some Ruyard Kipling-like waif, sans bear or panther friends. There were wolves though. They weren't friendly. You won't find jungle there now, it's long since been deforested. To which I say: good riddance. I might have gone with the rest of the Jhansi people, all twenty of us by then. Destitute and starving, off to surrender themselves to the British officials. Instead I went to Kolkata. Became a street thief, and a proficient enough one to be adopted into the Guild there. To my utter amazement, in subsequent years, the city was electrified. Wires. Electricity. Lights. I realized I had a talent. By then I was forty-two. How old were you when you realized you were a mutant, Princess?"

Polaris blinked, startled with the interruption. "Ah. Early…I was overstressed. There was-an accident. Fatal."

Nil regarded her, and his expression was not one of flippancy or dismissal. "I'm sorry to hear that. I suppose my situation could have been worse. Perhaps I might have caused an accident if I'd been born in this time and not back in the dark ages. Could have unwittingly launched a nuclear missile or some such. But back then, I felt as if I had been robbed. Born too soon, in the wrong century. They called it magic. I know different now. I spent so many years not knowing. Living hand to mouth like an ignorant rube."

Polaris nodded slowly.

"I continued my way through the Guild ranks. And then, I heard of an illegitimate nobody mutant street thief who was making waves, in all places, but filthy New Orleans. Climbing out of the gutter to become a prince. I was really rooting for the little bastard. He was going places, I was sure. Show those senior Guild assholes not to underestimate him, even after they sent him into exile. He clawed his way back." Nil made two fists then opened them as if he were scattering seed. "But then he goes and just...throws it all away. For what? Some fruitless mutant cause? Worse yet, some woman. Like being in the Guild meant not a thing. None of us meant anything to him."

"So yeah, I might've been a little pissed off," Nil said. "Gambit was gone too long. He forgot what it was like to be a thief. That when you try to steal something for just yourself...there's going to be someone there who can't wait to snatch it away. Leave you with nothing."

"You were teaching him...a lesson?" Polaris clarified. "Do you want it still? Leadership of the Guild?"

Nil flicked her inquiry away with his fingers. "Gambit's at his best when he's down. And he's never been more down. He came to a realization. He can learn, change. He doesn't want the crown, not for himself. He wants it for the rest of us. There's no point in stealing it, we all see that now. Remy asks us what we need. Lets us do what we want, wants us to do things better, smarter. He doesn't threaten. Doesn't preach. Doesn't punish."

"You sound as if you respect him," Polaris murmured.

"That won't keep me from giving him a hard time. And frankly, it does look like a lot of hard work, being king. Who wants to be leader? Being a leader gets you a spike in the eye."

Next time: Backup 360 Days, or the day he left.

I have 42 chapters plotted, 24 chapters of this story fully written, but I've been stalled out on Chapter 25 for a few weeks now. Kinda stuck in a brain fog and lacking motivation. I like to keep far ahead of my publications, because I do tend to go back and change things a lot. So we'll see how far I get before I peter out.