Part 11
The X-Men walked out of the darkness of Psylocke's shadows to emerge in the peacefulness of a suburban town. Houses were placed in neat little rows, each with matching trim lawns, all signs of autumn raked off the perfect pristine lawns. The area was definitely wealthy, the homes standing at two stories and sometimes three, lavish curtains lit by soft glowing lights behind the windows.
And then, down the road, there was a long space where no houses were, a little island of forest stuck in the middle of the pleasant neighborhood.
Gambit would have bet money that Sinister was situated somewhere in the middle of that little patch of trees. He glanced at the X-Men and then back at the wooded area. They all nodded in agreement to the silent communication, moving off in a strategic formation towards the area. It was almost like old times, when they had all functioned together as a team as smoothly as an oiled machine. There was no room for infighting and animosity among the team when you were going into battle. Otherwise you didn't come out alive.
They reached their destination quickly and quietly, peering into the trees to see what lay beyond. Here Wolverine took the lead, letting his enhanced senses guide him to his prey. They all followed without comment or argument.
The forested area was thick as the X-Men walked through it—unnaturally so, Gambit noticed, as if someone had made sure that the trees were especially crowded so that they could act as a blanket, hiding what lay beyond. There was a strange silence, and this too was unnatural. There were no birds chirping, no rustling of small animals running through the bushes. It was midday and the woods should have been teeming with life. But they weren't. Other than the vegetation and trees, which had no choice but to stay where they were rooted, there was no other sign of anything alive. This fact made for a very ominous and eerie air that hung about the six figures as they quietly made there way through the desolate ecosystem.
A few minutes passed before Wolverine suddenly stopped. "I can smell 'im," he growled softly. The short Canadian's face scrunched up as he sniffed the air. "We're almost there." And then, just as suddenly, he began walking again, though a bit slower. The X-Men followed, adjusting smoothly to his unpredictable maneuvers. Gambit hung behind, trailing slightly, to make sure that they weren't being followed. Even when he was sure that no one was behind them, he still couldn't shake the feeling of doom that was so avidly stalking him. Something bad was going to happen. Something really bad.
And then they came to a wide clearing. With a white house in it—or something closer to a small mansion. It was three stories and had large bay windows with midnight blue curtains. There was only one light on inside, and it was in a room that sat on the highest floor all the way to the right. Gambit's eyes drew to it immediately, and locked. Sinister was in there. He knew it. He didn't know how, but it was an intuition too strong to ignore—and Gambit's intuitions were usually right.
They had stopped, crouching at the edge of the woods. "So what's the plan?" Rogue whispered to no one in particular. Gambit crouched beside her and waited for someone to reply.
No one did. And after a few moments he decided that if no one had any ideas he would share his. "Dat lit window 's probably our best bet. Somet'ing's goin' on in there. Might be where Sinister is. We be best off if we split up an take different routes there. 'Course Sinister probably has booby traps everywhere, but somebody's bound ta get through."
Wolverine nodded his agreement. "I'll take the ground. Nobody would expect us ta just walk in the front door. Ya'd have ta be crazy ta do that. Luckily, that ain't a problem for me."
"I'll take the ground too." Psylocke added. "But I'll search for a back door."
"Ah got the air." Rogue glanced sideways to address the other X-Men where they crouched beside her. Gambit nodded in agreement, as did Joseph who quickly offered to join Rogue in the sky. Iceman chose to take the most direct route using his iceslide to reach the window. That left everyone decided but Gambit.
"I'll come down from de roof. Dere's a drain pipe near de corner of the house that I c'n climb real easy." Gambit gestured vaguely toward the spot.
And then it was all figured out. The only thing left to do was to act on their plans.
"Remy," Rogue whispered so that only he could hear her. He turned to face those sparkling green eyes next to him, and waited expectantly for her to continue. "Ah—just be careful, okay?"
He smiled faintly and said softly, "Careful? 'Course not." But the words lacked any jovial quality, and the two shared a look that spoke volumes of raw emotion. This was her was of apologizing for their fight earlier, and he knew that she was scared. Scared that they were never going to see each other again, that one—or both—of them weren't going to make it out alive. He understood. He felt the same way, had since before they'd left the mansion.
Their eyes remained locked for a moment longer before Gambit finally tore his gaze away and settled it back on the lit window. Time to avenge Stormy and Sarah like he'd promised. "Come on people, let's move," he whispered forcefully, and then he was running across the field to the house, trusting that the others would follow him.
§ ¨ © ª
The roof was covered in red shingles that shifted and cracked under Gambit's weight. He crept across them as quietly as he could, outwardly graceful and calm, inwardly anxious and apprehensive. His heart was pounding violently, and his lungs were threatening to start rebelling again. The sweat that dripped from his skin wasn't a result of the warm day or any exertion on his part. It was the fear and anxiety at facing a figure from his past, at having to stare into the eyes of the man who had had such a profound and adverse effect on his life.
Sure, Remy had faced Sinister on other occasions following the Morlock Massacre, but now more was on the line. The geneticist was manipulating them directly, down to the molecular level, and they had no control over their own bodies anymore.
Gambit hated not being in control.
He also hated the sick feeling that had taken up residence in his stomach ever since Joseph had used his powers to manipulate the nanos running around in his body. It had been easy to forget the powers when they were safely tucked away and out of reach, but Joseph had released them, if even for a short time, and with those powers memories had resurfaced, terror at the atrocities those powers had inflicted...
Gambit took a deep breath, filling his lungs slowly and carefully. He was almost there. His feet moved of their own accord, used to the feel of the peek of the roof beneath them, experienced and steady with the training they'd been dealt over the years. The kinesthetic sense that was Gambit's to command spread out about him like a halo, as he pushed his kinetic field to its limits. He could feel Iceman enter the room that was the X-Men's destination, iceslide trailing behind him and melting in the sun. He could also feel Iceman suddenly stop moving and fall to the floor. Gambit froze where he was. Something had happened. Bobby was down.
Rogue was moving in next with Joseph right behind her. Gambit tried to yell for them to stop but it was too late; they disappeared under the lip of the roof on which he stood and a moment later he felt two more bodies drop in the room under him with his mutant power. The blood in Gambit's veins felt as if it had frozen. They hadn't even put up a fight, had simply... fallen. He had to warn the others.
But Psylocke and Wolverine were already inside the mansion, making their way to the room from the inside.
Suddenly, Gambit was in motion, knowing too much time had already been lost. He flipped off the peek of the roof, grabbing the ledge and swinging into a window in the room next to the one the others had disappeared into. Glass shattered and embedded itself in the exposed parts of Gambit's skin as he swung through the window pane into the room. Immediately crouching into a defensive position, he look around, narrowed eyes evaluating his new surroundings. The room was small, at least as far as a mansion was concerned, and was adorned with lavish decor. A bed rested along one wall, crimson sheets perfectly made, and a huge armchair sat along the other. The rug was a shade that matched the bed sheets perfectly and he noticed that everything in the room fit immaculately and in fact, seemed almost meticulously designed and fitted.
It was nothing like Gambit was expecting. He pulled his staff out of its pocket in his jumpsuit and telescoped it to full length. The solid metal gleamed in the light that poured through the broken window, and the heavy weight felt good in his hands. Silently he walked to the wall closest to the room that the other X-Men had disappeared into. He placed a hand on it, leaning on the bed that stood in his way, and tried to feel for any motion. There was none. That meant Rogue, Joseph and Iceman were not moving.
His stomach sank even further and, as impossible as it seemed to him, his heart rate picked up more. Rogue, Joseph and Iceman were not moving. Were they... no he couldn't consider that possibility right now, couldn't handle the oppression of such an idea. All he knew was that they weren't moving, he wouldn't assume more.
Gambit's head snapped towards the door of the room. Somebody was in the hallway outside, approaching it with a predator-like grace. Wolverine. It had to be. Moving toward the room where the rest of the X-Men were. Moving toward the silent enemy that had taken the rest of them down without so much as a yell.
Running toward the door, Gambit swung it open to find that Wolverine had already passed him and was moving towards the room next door, the one at the end of the hall. He had to stop him. Moving completely on instinct, Gambit dove at Wolverine, tackling him while at the same time holding a hand over the other's mouth. They rolled together on the floor, Wolverine struggling against Gambit's grip.
"Logan, come on. It's me," Gambit whispered sharply. The Canadian answered by biting Gambit's hand where it was pressed firmly on his mouth. Holding back a yelp of pain, Gambit pulled back his injured appendage, cursing quietly as he did so. They continued rolling, each trying to get the upper hand before they crashed into the hallway wall and were forced to stop.
There was the sudden sound of a 'snikt' and then Gambit found himself pinned under Wolverine, three gleaming claws aimed at his neck. "I wanna know why ya tackled me, Cajun, and yer answer better be good 'cause I ain't in a good mood."
Gambit looked angrily at the man sitting on top of him, resisting the instinct to fight back. "I'm stoppin' y' from makin' a mistake, mon ami," he answered harshly, voice still quiet under some pretense of stealth, though their little scuffle probably would have alerted anyone to their coming.
"Wrong answer." Wolverine's angry gaze darkened as he inched his claws slowly closer. "I'll be the judge of when I'm about ta make a mistake."
Gambit just shook his head with what mobility he had in his compromised position. "Non, y' can't go in dat room."
"Why not?" came the answering snarl. The suspicion was obvious in Wolverine's expression now and Gambit suddenly realized what his teammate was thinking.
"I ain't workin' with Sinister."
"I never said ya were."
"You insinuated. Look, we don' have much time. De other X-Men are down."
Wolverine gave him a slightly surprised look, though it was hard to identify underneath the feral rage. "How do ya know that?"
"I felt dem fall," Gambit answered, red eyes intent as he waited for Wolverine to question him further. The X-Men didn't know about his kinesthetic sense; it was something he'd always kept hidden under the category of 'don't show all your cards at once'.
"Yer a telepath?" Wolverine asked, rather sardonically.
"Non, I c'n feel movement around me. It's a natural extension of m' kinetic abilities. I create a kinetic field around me an' c'n feel any movement through it."
"An' ya never told us?"
"Nope. Had t' earn de title of most mysterious X-Man of de year somehow."
"Ya didn't need any help for that."
Gambit ignored the jest and noted that Wolverine's claws were not quite as close to his jugular as before. Now all he had to do is get the Canadian off of him, the heavy weight was starting to hurt. "De X-Men entered dat room," Gambit tried his best to nod toward the room at the end of the hall, "and collapsed immediately after. Didn't even struggle 'fore they went down."
"He's telling the truth." Gambit looked past Wolverine to see Psylocke walking down the hallway toward them. The short man pinning him didn't even turn to look, keeping his eyes steadily on Gambit. Which was rather useless in Gambit's opinion, because if he really wanted to fight Wolverine he would have done it already, in fact, he probably wouldn't have even let Wolverine pin him like this, or at least not so easily. Of course, he couldn't blame the other for playing it safe; he would do the same if their positions were reversed.
"How do ya know?" Wolverine questioned.
"I was maintaining a light telepathic link with all the X-Men, to monitor their movements, but once Iceman, Joseph, and Rogue entered the room I lost contact. I felt them lose consciousness, though I'm not sure exactly what caused it." Betsy came up beside them, purple eyes taking in the situation with disdain. "Stop fighting each other, we have a bigger enemy to worry about."
Slowly, Wolverine lifted himself off of Gambit, though hostility remained in his eyes as a warning. Taking a deep breath at the sudden feeling of relief that came with having an over-200-pound mutant lifted off of you, Gambit gave Wolverine an annoyed look and got up himself.
"So what do we do now?" Gambit inquired quietly.
"We find out what caused the other X-Men to go down," Psylocke replied rather manner-of-factly.
"An' how exactly do we do dat?" Gambit asked, sarcasm touching the words.
"I go in there and maintain a telepathic link with both of you, so that if I fall prey to the same force that the other X-Men did, I can at least tell you what it is before I go down."
"That's a bit risky, darlin'. Ya sure ya want to try that," Wolverine was looking at her intently.
"Yes."
"Any arguments, Cajun?" Wolverine questioned, looking over to Gambit.
"Non, sound good t' me. Sounds crazy, but good."
Psylocke nodded as a reply. "I'm going to switch over to telepathy now." *Can you here me?*
*Yeah, loud an' clear.* Gambit answered mentally. And then he heard Wolverine follow suit and reply in the affirmative. So, he was not only linked to Psylocke, but Wolverine too. He really hated the feeling of other people running around in his brain, but he figured he could deal with it as long as nobody tried to dive below the surface.
And then without warning, Psylocke simply walked into the shadows cast in the hallway and disappeared. Gambit looked over at Wolverine, "I hate when she does dat."
"Me too," Wolverine agreed.
*Okay, I'm in,* Psylocke said. Gambit immediately focused his attention on the voice in his head. *Joseph, Iceman, and Rogue are on the floor near the window. They seem unharmed. I don't see anyone else in the room. Wait—there is someone in the shadows. It's—it's Sinister, and... he's smiling. He has a device in his hand with some buttons on it. He's reaching down to press one. I--* And then, abruptly, Psylocke's voice fell silent.
*Betsy?* Wolverine called urgently.
Gambit looked sharply at Wolverine. "What happened?" he questioned.
"Don't know, you're the one who can feel movement."
Gambit already had his eyes closed, reaching out with his kinesthetic sense into the room. "She's not movin'."
"Which means that we're the only ones left. Any thoughts on what just happened?" Wolverine ventured, turning hard eyes on the other man.
"Not a clue."
"Didn't think so."
"'Cept..." Gambit's face turned thoughtful and Wolverine gave him an expectant look. "Right before Betsy went down Sinister pressed a button on some kind o' device. Maybe dat device 's controlin' de nanos. Dat would explain why no one put up a fight; de machines in deir blood simply knocked dem unconscious before dey could."
Wolverine nodded slowly, hair rustling softly. "Then we're gonna have ta take Sinister by surprise before he can use his little remote control on us."
"An' how we do dat, mon ami?"
A predatory smile was settling on Wolverine's face. "Simple. We give him bait an' then we hook 'im."
§ ¨ © ª
.
Gambit was back on the roof, creeping stealthily toward the last room on the right side of the house. Both he and Wolverine had decided that he was the quietest, having been trained as a thief since he was a young child. And therefore the job of surprising Sinister was his.
He was almost to the window and was mentally counting off seconds in his head. Soon it would be showtime. Only 20 seconds left until Wolverine provided his distraction to cover Gambit's attack.
Reaching the lip of the roof that overhung the window to his destination, he crouched down to wait. Once again the sheer silence of the day overtook him. The unnatural stillness did nothing to slow his beating heart.
15 seconds.
He wondered idly how he had ended up here, facing Sinister with only one teammate left. Had saving Rogue from Sinister been a mistake? Was she really the one who had spread the nanos to the rest of them? All evidence seemed to indicate that... except... how could she have transferred them if she couldn't touch anybody? They must have spread some way other than direct contact.
5 seconds.
His mind continued to count down seconds despite its other meanderings. Soon it would be time. Soon he would be forced to face Sinister.
3 seconds.
A cold calm spread through him, a kind of shield against the fear and anxiety. Feeling evaporated in the pretense of action. He would do what needed to be done.
1 second. It was time.
He took a deep breath and slid off the edge of the roof, catching the ledge neatly and swinging into the open window. A split second before he hit the ground he heard a loud, feral yell belonging to Wolverine.
There were X-Men strewn on the floor nearby and he quietly stepped over them, eyes locked on his target. Sinister stood in the center of the room, facing the door that was opposite the window Gambit had entered from, as Wolverine dove toward him recklessly, claws gleaming and leading his body as he flew through the doorway toward the mad scientist.
Gambit was moving quickly and unnoticed, the world in sharp focus, taking long, silent steps toward Sinister as the geneticist lifted a black device that looked like a remote control and calmly pressed a button. He stepped aside and Wolverine fell harmlessly on the floor, skidding to a halt after a few moments.
Wolverine was unconscious. Gambit was alone. But he was also ready to strike. Having used the time and distraction Wolverine had provided wisely, Gambit was now behind Sinister, in reaching distance. With one fluid motion he swept his leg out in a high roundhouse kick that connected with the back Sinister's broad shoulder's, swinging his staff a moment later to hit the remote upward out of Sinister's hand. Sinister went down rather predictably, and as he did, the conflicting motions of his body and the little machine he held caused him to release it. Gambit followed up with a triple barrage of charged cards that met their target square in the chest. The remote flew through the air and landed a few meters away.
Any other man would be dead by now. Sinister was not any other man.
For a moment Gambit could make out a hole in Sinister's chest where his cards had hit but that quickly sealed up. And then Sinister was moving, the element of surprise having been exhausted. He struck out with a large burst of energy that flew out towards Gambit. Gambit would have dodged. It wasn't beyond his ability to do so, mutant genes giving him increased speed and agility. He would have, but he was distracted by a sudden bout of coughs that overtook him. Gambit was hit square in the chest and went with the attack, letting the momentum roll him to his feet.
When he looked back at Sinister he found the man standing, looking rather unharmed, and holding the remote control, finger wavering perilously over one of the buttons. Gambit didn't need any help figuring out what would happen if the villain was allowed to press it. He had to stop him somehow. Fighting was out of the question; once Sinister saw a threatening move he would put an end to it, disposing of him as easily as he had Wolverine by forcing Gambit into unconsciousness.
He needed a distraction. So he started to talk.
"Essex," he snarled.
"LeBeau," the other returned with a smile that was almost, in some twisted way, warm. It had the effect of sending chills down Gambit's spine.
Red eyes met red eyes. "We found out 'bout de nanos. Dose seem ta be a favorite little toy o' yours."
"You would know better than anyone else," the pale man answered steadily.
"So how'd ya do it? Were de little critters hidin' out inside Rogue when we rescued her? Was dat whole kidnappin' a trick t' infect us wit' de nanos?" Gambit asked coldly. He was searching for a plan but none was coming to mind. And though he was keeping Sinister busy, he wasn't distracting him enough to allow him to perform an unexpected attack.
"Actually, Rogue didn't infect the rest of the X-Men. She can't touch anybody, how do you expect my nano-controllers to spread under such conditions?"
"T'ought maybe dey were airborn." Gambit forced his tone to remain nonchalant, but it was getting hard. The cold professionalism was slipping away under the glare of those red eyes and he was starting to feel the fear build up in him. He was running out of time and Sinister was not one to provide an opportunity for an escape.
"Airborn?" He sounded appalled and shocked at such an idea. "Really, Remy, I expected better of you. You should know that such a method of transfer would be much too sloppy. There would be no way of guaranteeing that the nano-controllers would actually reach another subject. They could simply drift in the air and never be picked up. And who's to say that those members of your team with better eyesight, like for example Wolverine, wouldn't spot them and realize something was amiss. Use that brain of yours, LeBeau, I know you are capable."
"Fine. If Rogue didn't spread de nanos to de rest of de X-Men, den who did?" Gambit questioned, the words hard and hostile.
"You did."
Gambit stopped breathing. His eyes widened suddenly at the unexpected answer and he thought his knees might give out beneath him. Sinister was smiling broadly.
"But... how?" he asked eventually. Actually, it was barely more than a croaked whisper.
"Simple, really. Rogue did play a part. I injected the nano-controllers directly into her blood to infect her, but in addition I spread them across her skin and clothes. She was crawling with them when you came to save her, though I doubt you would have noticed; you were a bit distracted at the time as I recall from the tapes I later watched of the event. Once you picked her up, the nanos crawled from her onto you, and, via special programming, burrowed into your skin and entered your blood stream."
Without really thinking as he did it, Remy looked down at the back of his hand where he had noticed tiny, little cuts earlier. The wounds were mostly healed, leaving only ghost images behind, but suddenly he had an idea of where they'd come from. Had that been where the nanos entered his body? He looked up suddenly to meet Sinister's gaze. The other was smiling, knowingly.
"You, of course, have no problem touching people, and every time you did, some nanos would push themselves out from under your skin and bury themselves in the other person," Sinister went on.
Remy was suddenly filled with flash memories of various times when he had touched people over the last few days. Wolverine when he had handed Rogue to him after saving her; he remembered touching skin on Wolverine's arm above where Wolverine's gloves ended and below where his uniform began. Gambit had been wearing his signature gloves, which left certain fingers exposed, at the time. It made charging objects with his power easier, even if he had to be more careful not to leave finger prints places. Cecilia Reyes when she had helped him after he had gotten sick during his jog. Storm when—oh no... He suddenly felt very, very sick.
And Sinister was still smirking. It was strangely reminiscent of Remy's own patented smirk, only this was colder, evil. And then the red eyes set in that unnaturally pale face drifted down to the remote control in his hand. Remy stared at him numbly, the red diamond traced in Sinister's forehead burning into his mind. Red like blood. Diamond etched in blood.
"Goodnight, LeBeau."
And then there was the soft sound of a button clicking and Remy's world disappeared into darkness.