Destiny's Pawn - Part One

DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story mostly belong to Marvel. No infringement intended, blah,blah,blah. Please, please, please do not reproduce this story in part or in whole anywhere without at least asking me first! Thank you...

email me at Sarah.Watkins@onyx.net

Destiny's Pawn

Part 1/7

He had never quite trusted aeroplanes, but it was the only real way to get where he was going. The flight from JFK to Bratislava was a long one, and Remy LeBeau got jittery on short haul – so this was not exactly a pleasant trip. The almost devoted attention he was receiving from the pretty flight attendant helped focus him a little, however, and now, in the last fifteen minutes of the flight, he was finally able to relax.

Why exactly had he decided to go to Slovakia? Because you ain't never been dere before, Remy, he told himself. An' you needed t'get away fromt'ings.

Things.

The X-Men in general, Rogue in particular. Oh yes, Gambit had a lot of thinking to do. He'd actually been surprised when his announcement had been met with little resistance. It really wouldn't have surprised him if half the X-Men had done his packing for him.

Anddespite him asking her toRogue hadn't even come to see him off at the airport.

No time to dwell on her reasons. The girl had clearly made a statement and it was now up to Remy to accept it – whatever the reasoning.

Jus' cause Gambit acceptin' dis, don't mean he likes it, chere, he thought as the plane, now landed, taxied into the airport. The pretty flight attendant was making some sort of announcement, but he only half-heard what she was saying. He needed to pick a destination. Somewhere out of the way, somewhere he could blend in and disappear. Glancing down at the map in his hand, he looked again at the place he had chosen.

Perfect.

* * *

INTERLUDE 1
Banská Bystrica - Slovakia

They watched. And waited.

But most of all they waited.

One day, the prophecy would be fulfilled. And, if what their tomes told them – that time was drawing near.

They kept their peace and waited.

END INTERLUDE

* * *

Donovaly, Lower Tatra Mountains – Slovakia.

The bite in the air was almost familiar to Gambit. Reminded him sharply of Antarcticano. He had come here to reflect, not wallow in self-pity and misery. It was the beginning of November in Slovakia and there was no snow evident. But the air carried with it the unmistakable tang of ice and the promise of snowfall to come.

Pulling his coat around himself, he stopped the hire car outside one of the many ski lodges that made up the small village in the mountains. May as well try here as anywhere – the place seemed fairly deserted anyway. He'd driven here from Bratislava in relative peace – apart from the somewhat mad Slovak drivers, his trip had been uneventful.

Pushing open the door of the tiny lodge, he couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his face. Spartan, simple and unpretentious accommodation, the building somewhat dilapidated and run down

Precisely what he wanted.

A brief exchange took place between him and the moustachioed man at the front desk. Remy spoke no Slovakian, the man spoke no English or French, but by simple means of waving cash around – and as Remy had had no time to exchange his US dollars, that meant a foreign currency – he managed to intimate to the man what he wanted.

His dollars were readily accepted and disappeared into a plastic bag beneath the counter. He was given a key and the man beamed a welcoming smile at him, directing him up the stairs and along the corridor.

The room was as he had expected – bare save for two tiny beds and a wardrobe that had clearly seen better days. A small bathroom with a shower that had potentially come out of a museum was through a door and the window opened out onto the world's smallest balcony with just enough room for one person to stand.

Remy stood there now, inhaling the unpolluted mountain air that was heavy with the chill of the early evening. He glanced down at the glass in his hand. Borovicka, the man behind the bar had said. Tasted more like antifreeze than the juniper brandy it was supposed to be, but that said, it was achieving the desired effect of getting him pleasantly drunk.

Biting on his lip, he withdrew contemplatively into the warmth of his sheepskin collar and sipped on the fiery liquor. The evening was rapidly giving way to night and the dark sky was dusted with a light smattering of stars. It was all so far removed from the bustling chaos of Westchester. Closing his eyes, he drank in the silence, relishing it and making the most of it.

* * *

INTERLUDE 2
Banská Bystrica – Slovakia

In their secret meeting place, they draw together to rejoice. The time of waiting is drawing to an end. The time of the Prophecy draws near. The Chosen One awaits. The threads are finally drawing together in a complicated weave that cannot be altered.

Time has carried them forward to this point and their time is now.

Silently they go forth into the Slovakian night to seek him out.

END INTERLUDE

* * *

INTERLUDE 3
Westchester, New York

Ah'm sorry, sugah, but I genuinely don't know where he went, said Rogue into the telephone mouthpiece. He said he wanted t'be on his own for a while – an' you know Remy every li'l bit as well as ah do. A while' could mean anythin' from a week to a year.

She listened in silence to the voice on the other end of the phone. Sure, sure, if he calls, ah'll let him know.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Rogue stared wordlessly at it. She really didn't know where Remy was and what was worse, she wasn't entirely sure if she cared. Over the past few months, their relationship had begun to disintegrate in the most unpleasant possible way. When he had asked her to the airport to see him offto wherever it was he had his mad plans to go – she had almost gone. But at the last moment, she decided that it was a bad idea.

Now he'd gone – God only knew where – and she was regretting her hasty decision. He'd only been gone two days and it wasn't until he had left that she had realised just how much she missed him.

Damn you, Remy LeBeau, she said to herself, fiercely. How come ya do this to me? Woulda thought I'd be over you by nowbut no.

She scribbled a note on the pad by the telephone. If Remy calls, tell him Tante Mattie was after him.

Tante Mattie. Rogue had met her once. The somewhat intimidating elderly spiritual advisor to both the Thieves and Assassin's Guilds had left Rogue somewhat in awe. She was so wise and sensible. And she had never phoned the Academy before. Again, regretting her tendency to act on impulse, Rogue wished she had asked the woman why she wanted Remy. She had sounded pretty concerned for him. Maybe he was in trouble

Oh, great. Now ah got guilt as well, she murmured.

* * *

Coming to Slovakia definitely had its advantages, thought Remy contentedly, pushing the plate away from him. He'd successfully managed to buy himself a three course meal for less than $15 – and very good it had been too, agreed his stomach. In customary fashion, he sat back in his seat and simply observed the goings-on around him.

The lodge in which he was staying was clearly the centre of activity on a Friday night, as there seemed to be a disco taking place in the big room at the back of the hotel. Normally one for joining in such entertainment, Remy was happier this time simply to sit out and watch others enjoy themselves. A young couple seated at the table behind him were kissing and cuddling, and, feeling the pangs of regret running through him, Remy decided to remove himself outside into the night air.

As the sharpness of the snow-laden air hit him, he was acutely aware of the numbing effect the Borovicka had had on his system and immediately reprimanded himself. He removed his sunglasses and rubbed at his tired eyes. One of the first lessons any thief – or any X-Man was taught and he'd ignored it. Never let down your guard. You never know what's hiding around the next corner.

Out here, Remy thought, grimly, dat's likely t'be some sorta goat or sheep or somet'in'.

As the first flakes of snow began to fall, he shuddered involuntarily, memories of Antarctica springing into his mind. How easy it was to pretend he had got over the whole thing, that he had forgiven Rogue for abandoning him there...but she didn't know he still woke, sweating in the night from the memories of that ordeal. Remy could convincingly play the role of the casual, 'water off a ducks back', good-time guy - but in his deepest heart, he was struggling to be reaccepted amongst his peers.

Don't know why I bother, he mused, bitterly. Dey ain't never gon' forgive me. Not fully, anyway.

Lost in self-absorbed thought, he wasn't aware of the dark shape that was observing his every move.

He leaned up against the outside wall of the lodge and lit a cigarette. The end glowed in the darkness and he inhaled it deeply, experiencing the odd sensation of drawing in a breath that was both cigarette-warm and icy cold at the same time.

Ah, chere...what is Gambit gon' do bout you an' me? he said, aloud, musing on his relationship with Rogue. I jus' don't understand you at all any more. Not dat I ever did, o' course...

A movement across the mountainous landscape in front of Remy's eyes was enough for him to immediately got himself into defensive mode. He dropped the cigarette on the ground and slid his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a playing card. Who dere? he called into the night, softly.

There was no response, so he took a few tentative steps forward, whole heartedly wishing he was wearing his armour rather than flimsy civvy clothing. You gettin' jumpy, Cajun, he said to himself as he scanned the immediate vicinity. He could see nothing, neither could he hear anything. You startin' t'imagine t'ings now. He tucked the card away again and picked up the cigarette. It was, to his relief, still burning.

Taking another draw, he slid his glasses back over his eyes and stared moodily out at the night. The snowfall was becoming heavier now, and it made his very marrow chill. He ground out the cigarette and, pulling his collar up around his ears, turned to walk back into the lodge.

A flurry of sound caused him to turn his head back. Something was heading straight towards him.

He ducked, and whatever it was shot over his head and carried on. He spun around, charged card in hand, and stared after it. It was small, but travelling at a fair speed. Squinting into the night, he made out its shape.

A bat? Dieu, Remy...you really need t'relax. He tossed the card over his left shoulder and it detonated with a quiet WA~CHOOM!

That's not polite, Mr LeBeau, came a voice, thickly accented. Remy froze in his steps and turned round again.

Standing before him were three lanky figures, each dressed in black that blended in with the night. The pureness of the snow as it settled on their black-clad shoulders only served to make them look more menacing.

Charming to the last, Remy slipped off his glasses. Th' pleasure is undoubtedly gon' be all mine...just as soon as you tell me exactly who y'are an' what y'want?

That is not for us to reveal. Please, Mr LeBeau. We would ask you to come with us. The speaker spoke excellent English, but hesitantly, as if unused to either using the language, or speaking at all.

What, you t'ink I come down on th' last flake o' snow? He was incredulous. I ain't goin' nowhere. Can't a man take a holiday in peace wit'out some – no offence – weird lookin' strangers comin' up t'him an' insistin' on his attention? Well, excuse me if I don't seem t'be too keen t'follow you into th' Lord only knows where, OK? All the time he was talking, he was trying his hardest to make out facial features, but all three shapes were hooded.

You know who we are, Mr LeBeau. For we are extensions of yourself. The apparent spokesperson of the three stepped forward into the dim glow of the lights coming from inside the lodge. Remy drew a sharp breath.

Red on black eyes looked back at him.

You WILL come with us, Mr LeBeau. We have been waiting an eternity for you and you are not going to let us down now.

Well, I'm sorry t'disappoint you guys – I mean, I'd love t'stay an' chat an' everyt'in' Remy's hand had slipped into his pocket and closed around several cards. like I said, I'm here on vacation. Maybe you c'n leave a number or somet'in' an' I'll see you in th' mornin'

The three figures moved closer together and began to move forward as a unit. now you t'ree jus' stay where y'are, said Remy, backing up a little. There was something inherently unnerving about the uniformity of them: the way they moved together, the way they seemed to communicate without words

Remy pulled out the cards and flipped them, without a word, towards his would-be attackers.

WA~CHOOM!
WA~CHOOM!!

Dere's plenty more where dat came from, he began, then stopped as the smoke from his charge cleared.

They had gone.

There was a fluttering of black wings in the night and three more bats shot past his head, heading for the isolation of the mountains. He turned and stared after them.

They will be back, came a voice from the entrance to the lodge. Whirling, bewildered by yet another strange voice, Remy turned to see the owner of the hotel standing in the doorway, armed with what appeared to be little more than a lamp. Come inside. I will explain.

Totally speechless – a novelty for the Cajun – Remy nodded and followed the man inside.

(c) S Watkins, 2000