Destiny's Pawn - Part Two

Destiny's Pawn

Part 3/7

DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story mostly belong to Marvel. No infringement intended, blah,blah,blah. (TaPlease, 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

Thank you. Now back to our regular programme.

* * *

Slovakia.

A country that has undergone much change in its long and often violent history.

A little like the mutant who goes by the code-name Gambit.

If someone had told him a mere three weeks ago that he would be in the company of two exquisite German blondes, both of whom would be eyeing him hungrily, he would have shrugged and said it was par for the course, and you have to take the dangers of the job, why not take the rewards?

Now he is in this situation, and things are not, as always, quite as they seem. Katarina and Elenora Bruckner are identical twins. They look alike, they work together, and they are quite deadly.

They are the hunters, and Gambit is their prey.

Watch.

And learn.

"Now it may be dat m'hearin' is playin' up," said Remy carefully as he looked from one pair of blue eyes to the other. "But did y'say dat you wanted m'soul?"

"Ja. Correct. Brains as well as brawn. A most impressive specimen. Elenora licked her lips in a manner reminiscent of a crocodile about to chow down. It was unnerving.

"Well, Remy'd like t'help you dere, chere, but y'see, he kind o' attached t'his soul, non?" His red eyes narrowed. "Now tell me 'zac'ly what dis is 'bout. You two got somet'in' t'do wit' dis 'Pure Breed'?"

The girls exchanged glances - worried ones? Remy couldn't quite tell.

"Who we work for is of no consequence," said Katarina briskly. "The end result will be the same. We deliver you to those who employ us, they pay us, everyone is happy."

"An' me? Where do I fit into dis equation?"

"You will be the happiest of them all. You will have freedom from this world. Yours is a destiny truly to be envied, M'sieur LeBeau. You will live forever."

"OK...I'm officially psyched out now," said Remy, standing up. "Mind if I ask you ladies t'leave?"

"Leave?" said Elenora, reaching across the table and lowering her glasses. Her cool blue eyes glinted dangerously at him. "Why, M'sieur LeBeau! How very rude! We only just arrived! We offer you the chance for greatness and you laugh at us? You are a fool."

"Enough, Elenora." Katarina was clearer the more authoritarian of the two. "He will see sense soon enough. Let us leave. We are clearly not wanted here." She got to her feet and her sister followed suit. "Until we meet again, Remy - and we will meet again."

Rising to his own feet, Remy took her hand and kissed it gently. "Not if I see you first," he murmured. The two girls exchanged glances and shared a laugh. Then they walked out of the hotel leaving a very confused and bewildered Remy.

* * *

Interlude
New Orleans, Louisiana

"Remy?" Tante Mattie says, carefully. "Remy boy, is dat you?"

"Oui, Tante. An' I t'ink you an' I is gon' hafta have a long, indepth conversation dat's been long overdue." His voice is taught with friction.

He can't possibly know. She swallows, nervously, but keeps her tone airy. "Oui, petit. What you want t'talk t'Mattie 'bout?"

She knows I know. He is angry. Very, very angry. "What c'n y'tell me 'bout the 'Pure Breed'?"

She almost drops the phone.

He knows.

End Interlude

* * *

Remy leaned against the wall, drawing very deep breaths. What Tante Mattie had just revealed to him had left him feeling sick to the very core. He had begged with her, pleaded for what she was saying to be not true, but as always, she could not lie to him. Not to Remy.

"Non," he had whispered hoarsely as the truths had come out. "Non...Poppa tol' me dat th' Antiquary was paid off years ago. An' jus' what 'zac'ly does he hafta do wit' a sect of vampires dat t'ink dey're better'n' anyone else?"

"He owns them, too," she had replied, simply. "An' he has them lookin' f'r you, Remy. Your father...dat is, Jean-Luc...stopped his money, b'lievin' dat th' debt had been paid. An' th' Antiquary struck back immediately."

"Non! I ain't some commodity t'be bought an' sold! I won't b'lieve dis, Tante!"

"B'lieve it or not, Remy, it's th' truth." Her beloved voice was filled with gentle regret and Remy had felt the pain stab him through the heart with more deadly accuracy than any weapon he had ever dodged.

He had slammed down the receiver, refusing to listen to any more of the unlikely tale she had shared with him. It was...too much to accept. He was NOT the property of the Antiquary. It couldn't be true. He had seen the papers that had allowed Jean-Luc LeBeau to legally adopt the-then street rat known only as Le Diable Blanc. The name had come later.

He wasn't who he thought he was.

If he wasn't Jean-Luc's son, then who was he?

At the other end of the phone line, Tante Mattie put the receiver gently back on the cradle and looked solemnly at it for long moments. Finally, she walked down the hall to Jean-Luc's office.

Pushing open the door, she looked at the tired and ravaged face of the guilt-ridden man on the other side of the desk. "Dat was Remy," she said, matter-of-factly.

Their eyes met, and the glimmer of hope in Jean-Luc's face disappeared immediately on seeing her somber expression.

"He knows."

Cradling his head in his hands, Jean-Luc LeBeau, Master Thief and Patriarch of the Thieves Guild wept like a child.

"Then I've lost him."

* * *

Dazed and confused, hurt beyond reason, Remy stumbled out of the hotel, tears of rage and anger running down his own cheeks. They lied t'me, was all he could think.

He walked for some time, not knowing where he was going. It was already growing dark by the time he slowed his pace, and he cursed himself softly for straying so far into the snowy wilderness.

He'd known, of course, that he was not Jean-Luc's son. Had known that he had originally been taken from the hospital by the man known as the Antiquary, and that the infant Remy had subsequently been stolen by the Thieves Guild.

He knew, and had accepted all of that without ever questioning why.

"Yours is not to question, Mr LeBeau. You will learn very soon that yours is simply to obey."

The voice seemed to simply enter his consciousness, and he came to a halt, a card instantly in his hand.

"Put away your toys, Mr LeBeau." Amusement.

"Who th' hell are you?" ~Never mind DAT~, he added, mentally. ~WHERE th' hell are you??~ He turned in circles, but could see nothing but the dusk-silhouetted shadows of the evergreens that waved softly in the light winter breeze.

"You know that."

They are the hunters.

"Sure I do. Dat's why I asked." A string of Cajun expletives burst forth from his mouth and he threw his charged card anyway. It detonated softly in the snow, sending up a shower of white that floated gently back down to the ground. He paused, then realised that the voice in his head DID in fact, seem familiar to him. Persuasive, cajoling and inherently evil, yet beautifully soft and sweet.. Like poison-covered candy.

He is the prey.

"And the rest of the cards, please," the voice in his mind was playing with him now, he felt as he absently withdrew the remainder of the pack and dropped it into the snow.

The hunters make their first move. The prey is in their grasp. This is not a moment they can afford to waste.

"How do you feel, Mr LeBeau?" The voice dripped honey and arsenic. Remy smiled, beatifically.

Lull the prey into a false sense of security.

"I feel...jus' fine, merci beaucoup. Jus' fine."

Every nerve ending is tingling, sending his brain into full panic mode. RUN, it seems to scream at him. But his body will not respond. He is the deer, caught in the full glare of the headlights. And the oncoming vehicle is a juggernaut.

Remy sank to his knees, in the snow. For no readily apparent reason, he felt that sleep would be a good idea.

Closing.

And a second voice joins the first. They are such beautiful, hypnotic voices, that Remy can do nothing but gladly, willingly obey. "Sleep well, M'sieur LeBeau."

He closes his eyes and falls face-first into the packed snow.

They are the hunters. They hold the power that will stop the prey in its tracks or kill it.

The hunters smile triumphantly at one another as the sound of fluttering wings fills the air.

Remy sleeps on, blissfully unaware that he is completely and utterly the absolute centre of attention in the middle of a gathering circle of vampires.

The hunt is over.

The prey is theirs.

[END of PART 3!]

Next issue: we finally get to meet the Pure Breed in person. Not before time, I hear you cry! Lots of fun and futile fighting follows! Tune in (if you're still awake) to Destiny's Pawn Part 4.

(c) S Watkins, 2001