Let's just get this clear that if they die in the story, they died in the comix.
_____
He looked so bizzare lying there without any of his usual Pyro-garb. Just lying there in the bed with a white tee and a pair of gray sweatpants. He grabbed the collar of my face and pulled it close to his.
"Get me outa here, Gambit. I can't stay cooped up like this. Not anymore. I'm getting restless. If you don't get me out, then I'll find a way out, and we don't want that, because, as we all know, I'm a fucking loony."
I nodded in understanding, then turned and left.
"Professor Xavier, we gotta let Pyro go," I said to Charles.
"He has contracted the Legacy Virus. It's best that he stays here for treatment," he replied.
"You don't understand! He's a free spirit! You can't keep him stuffed up in that med lab like some sort of guinea pig! You only keep him here to study him!"
"Mr. LeBeau, he's almost at Stage Four! He'll die soon! We must keep him here! There is no alternative! Have you not noticed the lesions all over his skin? The extreme fever of almost 109?! He's lucky that he's a mutant, and our genes aide us a bit! Since these two contractions, we've been able to track down others with the disease by adding some of the diseased tissue from the two victims to Cerebro's memory banks. From what we know now, someone calling himself Maverick has caught it, and, apparantly, he was part of the Weapon X project. Wolverine knows him," Charles paused.
"Wait, I sensed something. From the hospital wing. Let's go." Xavier said.
When we got up there, the window was open, the curtains flailing around in the mid-November winds. Pyro's bed was empty, and it was turned to a news program on his personal television.
"Back to our, discussion, Principal Edward Kelly of Bayville Highschool will be discussing his poliocies for governor tomorrow at the debate. Among them is the controversial Mutant Registration Act, wherein mutants must register themselves with the state...."
"Oh shit..." I breathed.
I heard a moaning and looked over to find little Jamie writhing in pain. Immediately Hank and Xavier bounded to his side. Hank pulled out some sort of machine, I'm assuming it was a pocket Cerebro Charles'd given all of the adults save me, and waved it around the boy.
"Charles, we didn't factor in young Jamie's youth. It seems that it has caused him to skip Stage Four and it's skin lesions, and has gone straight to Stage Five. His powers spiral out of control, erupting in a massive force, ending with death..." Hank said, barely above a whisper.
I grabbed his hand and he grabbed mine.
"You alright little buddy?"
"N-no...Mr. LeBeau..."
"It's Remy, kid. Just call me that from now on, kay?"
"I-I don't think that there'll be a 'now on', Remy..."
I squeezed tighter.
"Fight it, kid! Fight it! Don't die out on me, don't you dare die on me!"
"I'm so tired, Remy. I don't feel like fighting anymore."
I lowered my head, and brought it to his ear.
"Then....Then take a rest kid. You've had enough. Just take a rest," I whipered.
He nodded, a tear rolling down each eye. They suddenly opened with shock.
"Help me...."
His body glowed with a white light, then a thousand multiples shot out of his body, crowding the room, and then they all flew back at him, and with his last breath he uttered "Goodbye, Remy" and when the clones impacted, it flung his last bit of breath from him. His body was limp and still, and his hand cold. I turned and left, wiping tears from my eyes, making sure nobody saw me.
I went downstairs to check out what the others were up to. Pete was in his room painting, and Scott and Jean were doing something that Xavier asked. Everybody else was at school. I decided Pete was the better person to talk to.
"Hey, Pete!"
"What?!" came the deep Russian-accented voice.
"Can I come in?"
"The door is locked."
"I understand, but can I come in?"
"Nyet."
"What the hell?!"
"Nyet."
"Not being able to speak Russian, I'll assume that's a 'yes', and come in my own way...."
"Hold on! Let me get the door myself."
There was a click, and the large wooden door swung open. I stepped into Piotr's room, after him, of course. After sitting down on his bed, I broke the news to him.
"It's a sad day today, big guy. Little Jamie Madrox has just died from the Legacy Virus."
Piotr had a look of pure shock upon his face. It was a mix of disgust, anguish, and that look that you get when you get punched in the stomach reeeeeally hard.
"I know how you feel, big guy. I really do."
I patted him on his shoulder, got up, and left. First place I went to was the garage. Had to blow off some steam. This involved my motercycle and a bar. Hell, it was only 10:30 a.m., so why the hell not?
"Aw, hell yeah."
That Harley purred like a kitten, and off we went.
***
The bar was dead, so it was easy enough to get a drink. Nobody crowding my way. Must of had at least three bottles of Tequila. Don't know why. Hell. I just got myself in trouble, I do beleive. I hope Profex disregards this part. Ended driving home. Don't know how I did that, either.
After a short little nap, I ambled down the stairs to find Jean and Scott. When I did, they working in the basement with Ororo and Hank, apparently making new uniforms for the team. Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ with a Crutch, those outfits were ugly. How Xavier let them do something like that is beyond me. A little description: They were all an extremely unflattering and neon bright yellow and blue. I need to say it again: Jesus Christ, those uniforms were ugly.
"I'm not wearing those," I said aprehensively.
"Like heck you aren't, Gambit. The entire team is wearing these uniforms. Moira Mctaggart designed these," Scott chided.
"I wouldn't give a fuck if Versace designed it, you ain't making this Cajun wear something uglier than sin!"
"Language, Mr. LeBeau," Hank warned.
"Anyway, it's not like what you're wearing now is any better," Jean said.
"Excuse me?"
"Look at you. That stupid vest. Those horrid peices of leg armour. That bizzare belt; who do you think you are? Batman?"
"Hey, this vest was handmade by my Tante Mattie down in the Bayou. And without that belt, you'd be dead. We both know that the stuff in here has saved your life countless times. At least you didn't say anything about the headdress and my coat."
"Of course not. Those make you look dead sexy. Plus those eyes. That smirk. Oh, it's enough to make a girl melt," Jean said.
"Remind me to drop a truck on Gambit," Scott said.
"Cyclops..." Hank started.
"A big truck."
"Cyclops."
"A really big truck."
"Cyclops!" we all shouted.
"Well, Gambit, yours is the first one we did," Ororo said softly.
"Oh, goody."
The uniform was very form-fitting. It seemed to adapt to my body temperature, making it very comfortable, heat and air wise. I wanted to see just how form-fitting the fabric was, so I lifted a peice waaaay up, and then let go.
"Oh, SHIT!"
Everybody else was laughing, and Ororo managed to choke something out.
"Language...a-hahahahahahehehehehhehehehehehehehahahahahahah!"
When I took the suit off, there was a yard-long red mark running up and down my arm.
Rogue eventually got home, with some sort of project for some sort of class. Didn't learn until I had broken it that I was being used as a guinea pig.
We were sitting around, when Rogue pulled out a bell like you use at the hotel to get a bellhop, and put it onto the table. Every five minutes, she would ring it. Then, it became every two minutes, then every thirty seconds, and then it became frantic and unpredictable, to the point that I flung it across the room and accidentally blew it up with my powers.
"Whoops."
The afternoon slowly progressed from there. We had dinner (steak), went to train, watched a movie as a "family", and went to bed.
The next day we were all awoken and made to put on the new uniforms. Turns out we were going to that press meeting about Kelly's little Registration act. The kids were getting out of school, so they didn't really care, but the adults (Charles, Logan, Hank, Ororo, and Warren {Erik stayed home to watch the mansion and the very young students}) and the full-time Xavier students (Myself, Jean, Scott, and Piotr) did.
Everybody was there. Even some geeky little nerd-kid named Peter Parker taking pictures. The Fantastic Four, The Avengers, and even Mr. Bruce Banner attended. I looked over in the corner and saw Lance, Todd, Fredd, and Pietro along with none other than Pyro, Acolyte uniform and all. Mystique was nowhere to be found. Pyro waved a sign meaning "don't tell anyone". I silently nodded.
"Mutants," Kelly began, "Are a plague among our people, the normal human beings. I beleive that there should be a mutant registration so that we can keep track of them. Let us not forget the new disease spreading among them. The Legacy Virus. Could it not affect humans as well -- Oh, no. Not again." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
The ground beneath our feet rumbled, and for a moment we lost our balance. A large table flew from two very larg hands and straight at the guards. With them down, a long, slimy green tongue lashed out, and grabbed their guns, throwing them to a woman in the audience, and one to a silver blur.
A red flash slammed into Kelly, getting him out of harm's way. Six guns worth of bullets, all meant for Kelly, nailed Pyro. The Aussie's body racked and spasmed from the colossal amount of bullets. Blood flew from the bullet holes, splattering everybody within proximity, as well as the walls.
"Pyro!" Mystique cried.
"Johnny!" Fred yelled.
"St. Johnathan!" Piotr called out fruitlessly.
"Nooooooo!" I screamed.
Kelly grabbed his saviour by the shoulders and hauled him up.
"Why, son? Why?"
"Well, sir, I wanted you to see that not all mutants are so bad. So remeber me as a sign that there are good mutants, but there are bad ones, too. I know. I used to be one. So don't be quick to judge and persecute us all..." Pyro's head flopped to the side, his eyes glazed over. He was dead.
I ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.
"Wake up, Pyro! This isn't funny! Come on, wake up!"
The adults pulled me away from him. As soon as they let go, I charged Kelly.
"It's your fault, you bastard! You're the reason why Pyro's dead! If it wasn't for you motherfucking 'mutant registration act', the Goddamned Brotherhood wouldn't have attacked! It's all your fucking fault, asshole! come back here! Don't cringe away, you little prick!"
It took all of the representatives of the Institute to haul me off of Kelly, plus some of the Brotherhood and the Fantastic Four. Rogue eventually had to plant a kiss on my cheek to calm me down. In my last bout of consciousness, I observed this:
Xavier shook his head and talked at his commlink watch. He turned the video screen on and contacted Erik.
"I saw what happened, Charles."
"The day couldn't get any worse."
"Yes it could, old friend, and it just has. Illyana has come down with, as my mini Cerebro detects it, the Legacy Virus....."
_____
He looked so bizzare lying there without any of his usual Pyro-garb. Just lying there in the bed with a white tee and a pair of gray sweatpants. He grabbed the collar of my face and pulled it close to his.
"Get me outa here, Gambit. I can't stay cooped up like this. Not anymore. I'm getting restless. If you don't get me out, then I'll find a way out, and we don't want that, because, as we all know, I'm a fucking loony."
I nodded in understanding, then turned and left.
"Professor Xavier, we gotta let Pyro go," I said to Charles.
"He has contracted the Legacy Virus. It's best that he stays here for treatment," he replied.
"You don't understand! He's a free spirit! You can't keep him stuffed up in that med lab like some sort of guinea pig! You only keep him here to study him!"
"Mr. LeBeau, he's almost at Stage Four! He'll die soon! We must keep him here! There is no alternative! Have you not noticed the lesions all over his skin? The extreme fever of almost 109?! He's lucky that he's a mutant, and our genes aide us a bit! Since these two contractions, we've been able to track down others with the disease by adding some of the diseased tissue from the two victims to Cerebro's memory banks. From what we know now, someone calling himself Maverick has caught it, and, apparantly, he was part of the Weapon X project. Wolverine knows him," Charles paused.
"Wait, I sensed something. From the hospital wing. Let's go." Xavier said.
When we got up there, the window was open, the curtains flailing around in the mid-November winds. Pyro's bed was empty, and it was turned to a news program on his personal television.
"Back to our, discussion, Principal Edward Kelly of Bayville Highschool will be discussing his poliocies for governor tomorrow at the debate. Among them is the controversial Mutant Registration Act, wherein mutants must register themselves with the state...."
"Oh shit..." I breathed.
I heard a moaning and looked over to find little Jamie writhing in pain. Immediately Hank and Xavier bounded to his side. Hank pulled out some sort of machine, I'm assuming it was a pocket Cerebro Charles'd given all of the adults save me, and waved it around the boy.
"Charles, we didn't factor in young Jamie's youth. It seems that it has caused him to skip Stage Four and it's skin lesions, and has gone straight to Stage Five. His powers spiral out of control, erupting in a massive force, ending with death..." Hank said, barely above a whisper.
I grabbed his hand and he grabbed mine.
"You alright little buddy?"
"N-no...Mr. LeBeau..."
"It's Remy, kid. Just call me that from now on, kay?"
"I-I don't think that there'll be a 'now on', Remy..."
I squeezed tighter.
"Fight it, kid! Fight it! Don't die out on me, don't you dare die on me!"
"I'm so tired, Remy. I don't feel like fighting anymore."
I lowered my head, and brought it to his ear.
"Then....Then take a rest kid. You've had enough. Just take a rest," I whipered.
He nodded, a tear rolling down each eye. They suddenly opened with shock.
"Help me...."
His body glowed with a white light, then a thousand multiples shot out of his body, crowding the room, and then they all flew back at him, and with his last breath he uttered "Goodbye, Remy" and when the clones impacted, it flung his last bit of breath from him. His body was limp and still, and his hand cold. I turned and left, wiping tears from my eyes, making sure nobody saw me.
I went downstairs to check out what the others were up to. Pete was in his room painting, and Scott and Jean were doing something that Xavier asked. Everybody else was at school. I decided Pete was the better person to talk to.
"Hey, Pete!"
"What?!" came the deep Russian-accented voice.
"Can I come in?"
"The door is locked."
"I understand, but can I come in?"
"Nyet."
"What the hell?!"
"Nyet."
"Not being able to speak Russian, I'll assume that's a 'yes', and come in my own way...."
"Hold on! Let me get the door myself."
There was a click, and the large wooden door swung open. I stepped into Piotr's room, after him, of course. After sitting down on his bed, I broke the news to him.
"It's a sad day today, big guy. Little Jamie Madrox has just died from the Legacy Virus."
Piotr had a look of pure shock upon his face. It was a mix of disgust, anguish, and that look that you get when you get punched in the stomach reeeeeally hard.
"I know how you feel, big guy. I really do."
I patted him on his shoulder, got up, and left. First place I went to was the garage. Had to blow off some steam. This involved my motercycle and a bar. Hell, it was only 10:30 a.m., so why the hell not?
"Aw, hell yeah."
That Harley purred like a kitten, and off we went.
***
The bar was dead, so it was easy enough to get a drink. Nobody crowding my way. Must of had at least three bottles of Tequila. Don't know why. Hell. I just got myself in trouble, I do beleive. I hope Profex disregards this part. Ended driving home. Don't know how I did that, either.
After a short little nap, I ambled down the stairs to find Jean and Scott. When I did, they working in the basement with Ororo and Hank, apparently making new uniforms for the team. Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ with a Crutch, those outfits were ugly. How Xavier let them do something like that is beyond me. A little description: They were all an extremely unflattering and neon bright yellow and blue. I need to say it again: Jesus Christ, those uniforms were ugly.
"I'm not wearing those," I said aprehensively.
"Like heck you aren't, Gambit. The entire team is wearing these uniforms. Moira Mctaggart designed these," Scott chided.
"I wouldn't give a fuck if Versace designed it, you ain't making this Cajun wear something uglier than sin!"
"Language, Mr. LeBeau," Hank warned.
"Anyway, it's not like what you're wearing now is any better," Jean said.
"Excuse me?"
"Look at you. That stupid vest. Those horrid peices of leg armour. That bizzare belt; who do you think you are? Batman?"
"Hey, this vest was handmade by my Tante Mattie down in the Bayou. And without that belt, you'd be dead. We both know that the stuff in here has saved your life countless times. At least you didn't say anything about the headdress and my coat."
"Of course not. Those make you look dead sexy. Plus those eyes. That smirk. Oh, it's enough to make a girl melt," Jean said.
"Remind me to drop a truck on Gambit," Scott said.
"Cyclops..." Hank started.
"A big truck."
"Cyclops."
"A really big truck."
"Cyclops!" we all shouted.
"Well, Gambit, yours is the first one we did," Ororo said softly.
"Oh, goody."
The uniform was very form-fitting. It seemed to adapt to my body temperature, making it very comfortable, heat and air wise. I wanted to see just how form-fitting the fabric was, so I lifted a peice waaaay up, and then let go.
"Oh, SHIT!"
Everybody else was laughing, and Ororo managed to choke something out.
"Language...a-hahahahahahehehehehhehehehehehehehahahahahahah!"
When I took the suit off, there was a yard-long red mark running up and down my arm.
Rogue eventually got home, with some sort of project for some sort of class. Didn't learn until I had broken it that I was being used as a guinea pig.
We were sitting around, when Rogue pulled out a bell like you use at the hotel to get a bellhop, and put it onto the table. Every five minutes, she would ring it. Then, it became every two minutes, then every thirty seconds, and then it became frantic and unpredictable, to the point that I flung it across the room and accidentally blew it up with my powers.
"Whoops."
The afternoon slowly progressed from there. We had dinner (steak), went to train, watched a movie as a "family", and went to bed.
The next day we were all awoken and made to put on the new uniforms. Turns out we were going to that press meeting about Kelly's little Registration act. The kids were getting out of school, so they didn't really care, but the adults (Charles, Logan, Hank, Ororo, and Warren {Erik stayed home to watch the mansion and the very young students}) and the full-time Xavier students (Myself, Jean, Scott, and Piotr) did.
Everybody was there. Even some geeky little nerd-kid named Peter Parker taking pictures. The Fantastic Four, The Avengers, and even Mr. Bruce Banner attended. I looked over in the corner and saw Lance, Todd, Fredd, and Pietro along with none other than Pyro, Acolyte uniform and all. Mystique was nowhere to be found. Pyro waved a sign meaning "don't tell anyone". I silently nodded.
"Mutants," Kelly began, "Are a plague among our people, the normal human beings. I beleive that there should be a mutant registration so that we can keep track of them. Let us not forget the new disease spreading among them. The Legacy Virus. Could it not affect humans as well -- Oh, no. Not again." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
The ground beneath our feet rumbled, and for a moment we lost our balance. A large table flew from two very larg hands and straight at the guards. With them down, a long, slimy green tongue lashed out, and grabbed their guns, throwing them to a woman in the audience, and one to a silver blur.
A red flash slammed into Kelly, getting him out of harm's way. Six guns worth of bullets, all meant for Kelly, nailed Pyro. The Aussie's body racked and spasmed from the colossal amount of bullets. Blood flew from the bullet holes, splattering everybody within proximity, as well as the walls.
"Pyro!" Mystique cried.
"Johnny!" Fred yelled.
"St. Johnathan!" Piotr called out fruitlessly.
"Nooooooo!" I screamed.
Kelly grabbed his saviour by the shoulders and hauled him up.
"Why, son? Why?"
"Well, sir, I wanted you to see that not all mutants are so bad. So remeber me as a sign that there are good mutants, but there are bad ones, too. I know. I used to be one. So don't be quick to judge and persecute us all..." Pyro's head flopped to the side, his eyes glazed over. He was dead.
I ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.
"Wake up, Pyro! This isn't funny! Come on, wake up!"
The adults pulled me away from him. As soon as they let go, I charged Kelly.
"It's your fault, you bastard! You're the reason why Pyro's dead! If it wasn't for you motherfucking 'mutant registration act', the Goddamned Brotherhood wouldn't have attacked! It's all your fucking fault, asshole! come back here! Don't cringe away, you little prick!"
It took all of the representatives of the Institute to haul me off of Kelly, plus some of the Brotherhood and the Fantastic Four. Rogue eventually had to plant a kiss on my cheek to calm me down. In my last bout of consciousness, I observed this:
Xavier shook his head and talked at his commlink watch. He turned the video screen on and contacted Erik.
"I saw what happened, Charles."
"The day couldn't get any worse."
"Yes it could, old friend, and it just has. Illyana has come down with, as my mini Cerebro detects it, the Legacy Virus....."