Poker—No Bluffs

Poker—No Bluffs

By: Vain (Vainglorious696)

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Part One

The lights were dim and the smoke rising from various cigarettes formed strange shapes that engaged one another in serene parodies of dance.  Human voices ran low, emotions crackled through the place with invisible electricity, and above a thousand illegal and illicit act both beautiful and horrifying, the haunting music struggled for supremacy.

            Please die Ana   For as long as you're here   We're not   You make the sound of laughter   And sharpened nails seem softer   And I need you now somehow  Open fire…

           

            Remy Lebeau smiled so faintly that the expression was barely more than a twitch.  He settled back into his chair and extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray as he watched the human race stumbled around in front of him with a slight tinge of jealousy.  From the darkest corner of the club Remy had a fantastic view of everyone leaving and entering the building.  There was, however, only one person he was interested in on this particular night, though; and that man was already late enough for the normally relaxed thief to worry.  Remy sighed and lit another cigarette.

            "Can I help you, sir?"

            The Cajun took a heavy drag from his cancer stick and leaned forward to let the poor lighting fall upon his face.  Although his characteristic sunglasses hid his mutant eyes, the waitress recognized her customer immediately.

            "Mr. Lebeau!" a red flush of embarrassment coated the young woman's lovely oval face and she back peddled slightly, suddenly unsure of herself.  "I'm so sorry; we weren't aware that you were coming this evening.  Would like to be taken to your table upstairs?  We didn't know that you'd be in or we'd have sent a waitress here sooner. I am so sorry.  Please, anything that you want, I'll get for you right away.  Where is Tiffany?  I'm so-"

            Remy waved his hand, interrupting her, "Non, no, no.  Dat's quite alright, chere.  I'm just waiting here ta meet an acquaintance o' mine.  I don' want ta be no trouble.  In fact, de more discreet I am, de happier I be."

            "Sir, please at least allow me to-"

            Remy reached out and gently took her hand, drawing her close to him.  He let his empathy slide over her in soft mild waves, just enough to twist her slightly.  "Amber…" he read her name off of her tag.  She nodded dumbly, her long soft hair falling gracefully over her shoulders as she leaned down towards his face.  "Actually Amber, I would like two glasses of red wine.  And, as dis is sort o' a private meetin', I'd really 'ppreciate it if you could somehow arrange it dat you be my waitress for de rest o' de evenin'…  You know, just to be sure dat I ain't disturbed by anyone."  Amber nodded again and Remy released her both physically and mentally.

            "I'll be back with your wine in a few moments," she whispered huskily.

            This time Remy indulged himself in a genuine smile as he watched her sway off enticingly into the crowd.  The smile faded again as his eyes flickered towards the door again and he took another drag from his cigarette.  Where de hell are you, David?

            The music droned relentlessly on.

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Part Two

            Scott Summers tapped his fingers against the metal panel in front him and stared fixedly at the digital clock.  12:14.  "He's late again," he said to no one in particular.

            At his side his wife shifted her weight slightly in her chair but remained silent.  The Professor watched his protégé without comment.  Scott stood up and leaned slightly forward so that he could have a better view of the Danger Room floor below.  The large room was bare except for a group of colorful and bored looking people clustered in the center waiting for their other teammate.  Bishop had volunteered to retrieve Remy for them and Storm now stood alone looking worried over the fact that Gambit had not yet arrived.  He had been very angry when he had stormed out of the mansion the previous night and she was afraid that he may have gone out and done something impulsive. Marrow and Wolverine were exchanging icy glares from a distance broken only by the occasional insult.  The young Morlock had removed one of her numerous bones and occasionally picked her teeth with it.  Scott scowled.  She was almost as difficult to contain as Gambit.  Almost.

 Shadowcat and Colossus were sharing private laughter just a little bit separate from the rest of the group.  Even as young woman, Kitty Pryde still managed project innocence and wonder to the world around her. Maggot seemed to be deeply involved in grossing Jubilee out with his two slugs, Eeenie and Meenie.  The teenager was visiting Wolverine from Gen-X and had thus far been rather unsuccessful at putting distance between herself and strange young African.  On a more civilized note, Psylock and the Angel seemed to be in the process of making up form their most recent spat while the Beast and Cecilia Reyes were discussing something no doubt very medical.  Scott smiled.  Dr. Reyes was very good for Hank.  His eyes roamed over to the last two X-Men and his smile dissolved.   Rogue was standing alone looking silent and pale.  She had cried all last night and looked as though she had indulged herself again this morning.  Standing a short distance away Iceman was scowling fiercely at the floor.  He too was no doubt thinking of Gambit, albeit in less endearing terms.

Suddenly there was a loud swoosh as the metal doors slid open to reveal Gambit and Bishop.  Scott left the control booth to go down to the training area and went down to talk to Gambit face to face.  The young man in question walked silently into the room wearing a small frown, seemingly oblivious to the huge former XES officer behind him.  He was dressed in his traditional red and black uniform and his long auburn hair hung down in damp locks onto the shoulders of his now wet duster.  He stopped in the middle of the floor a small ways apart and in front of the others and began to spin his bow staff as though it were a baton.  As he watched Scott draw nearer to him, his entire demeanor seemed to scream 'What do YOU want?'

Scott's mood further blackened.  "You are fifteen minutes late, Gambit.  This training session could be halfway over by now.  But instead you've chosen to act irresponsibly and ruin everybody else's schedule today.  What have you go to say for yourself?"

Remy looked at Scott coolly for a moment.  He knew that if he hit just one more of the man's buttons this week that things were going to get very ugly.  He also knew that he neither wanted to admit that he'd screwed up or the real reason why he'd been so late last night and why he was so tense lately.  Pride won.  Keeping his back deliberately turned towards his comrades, Gambit looked Cyclops straight in the visor, "My bad."

The room was totally silent as every X-man turned their attention to the two men in front of them.  Scott's face went white and then slowly became redder and redder until he was almost the same shade as his visor.  Jean stood, shocked, as the Professor prepared to telepathically seize the two would-be combatants.  Bishop and Marrow tensed, ready to rescue Remy even as Iceman and the Angel tensed to aid Scott.  Storm began to move towards them both.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Scott and Remy broke gazes and looked up towards the booth.  Jean hit the speaker button so that the caller could be dealt with quickly and this situation resolved.  "Xavier Institute.  How can I help you?"

"Hello," the man's voice sounded small and tinny from the speakers.  "Is Rembrant Lebeau there?"

"Michael?"  Remy ignored the curious looks from the others as he took a step forward.  "Have you lost your-"

"Look, boss, I know that I'm not supposed to call you here, but we've got a crisis on our hands here."

Scott looked at Warren curiously and mouthed, "Boss?"  The Angel shrugged.

Remy didn't see the side gesture.  "What's happened?"

"David's dead, boss."

Remy felt the cold knot in his stomach grow.  He schooled his features into an emotionless mask.  "How?"

The caller hesitated, "Well…  I…  It's weird."

"Weird?" The Cajun arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah.  Pretty gory, too.  Somebody crucified him.  Rammed iron rods right through his palms and into a four-inch thick brick wall.  Hell of a lot of power behind that.  They gutted him while he was up there, too.  Cut him from his crotch to his Adam's apple.  A half a dozen rookie cops upchucked all over themselves when they saw it."

"Who found him?"

"Local street people.  Nobody of ours, though."

Remy cocked his head slightly to the side, thinking.  There was something familiar about that pattern.  The crucifixion spoke of the Marauders and the gutting was most definitely a calling card of Sabertooth, but Essex had better ways of getting his attention.  Especially when nailing somebody to a wall would draw the attention of people other than Remy.  This just wasn't right.  Something was missing . . . something was out of place.  Michael was a professional and hard through and through, Remy would accept nothing less.  Yet somehow he sounded really shaken up.

Remy tilted his head up towards the ceiling again, "Where's de weird come in?"

"His head was ripped off."

"Was it found near de body?"

"No," Michael hesitated again; "It wasn't found at all."

Something clicked in Remy's mind and for a second he was no longer in the Danger Room, but inside an underground lab.  On either side of him were people whom he had come to know as his allies, if not always his friends.  They were walking quickly through the corridors, going further under ground.  There had been a mistake and now everything was falling apart.  The others were afraid.  So was he.  The moment passed and Remy felt all the blood drain from his face.  He swayed slightly before he regained control of himself.

"Boss?" Michael's sounded small and worried in the stillness of the big room.  "Boss, you alright?  You still with me?"

Remy licked his suddenly dry lips, "The body?"

"Not a problem, sir.  A few of your friends," the word was filled with disgust, " came and snatched it up right beneath the police's noses.  I knew them all so I let them go.  They're taking it to the Doc.  NYPD's going nuts, though."

"Dey'll get over it."  Remy was relaxing some; the others had things taken care of for now.  Still, if this was what he knew it was…  Worry later, thief- act now.  "You talk to de others?"

"Yeah, they looked freaked.  They said they need you.  Should I tell them you'll come?"

Completely ignoring Cyclops, Remy turned slightly and looked up towards the control booth at the Professor.  Xavier returned his gaze gravely and then nodded once.  Remy gave no verbal response, but he allowed his shields to slip aside long enough to broadcast his gratefulness.  Xavier understood the communication and nodded again.

"Non.  Dey already know.  I do want ta see you personally, dough.  Be at the Doc's in an hour.  Invitation only."

"Yes, sir."

Remy looked at Jean and she hung up the phone.  Wolverine turned from the remnants of his clash with Marrow to regard his southern friend curiously.  "Who's David?"
           

"Just a friend o' mine, Logan.  Nobody ya'd know."

The shaggy Canadian nodded, understanding Remy's evasion.  "You need any back up, Cajun, you know where to find me."  His claws popped out to show Remy his version of back up.

"Non, merci.  It probably ain't nuttin' ta worry 'bout.  Besides," Remy said smoothly, "I wouldn't want to be accused of ruinin' everyone else's schedule or anyt'ing."

Remy turned and quickly walked out of the room.  Whatever brilliant insult Scott had waiting on the tip of his tongue, he was not in the mood for right now.  Michael's news was important, but there were other channels he could have used.  The young Cajun worked very very hard at showing the X-men exactly what they wanted to see from him, and Michael had just jeopardized that.  Now there would be questions.  Questions that Remy both could not and would not answer.  Questions whose answers not only endangered himself, his friends, and his plans, but the X-men as well.

Unbidden he remembered Claire's words from their last conversation: "You can't protect them forever."  He punched the button that would make the elevator go up to the main floor.

"I can protect dem for now, dough," he whispered softly to himself.  "At least for now."

Like you protected David?  Like you protected Adia?  Remy shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the guilt and self-loathing that were sure to follow such thoughts.  Now they're both dead.  He shook his head again.  He hated himself for letting the thought linger and he hated himself for not truly being able to mourn David.  David's dead. 

Remy stopped and leaned against the wall.  His long rapid strides had brought him almost to the garage.  His bike would take him into town faster than any of the other cars and right now he needed the adrenaline rush.  He looked up and found himself staring at his reflection.  He looked tired, haunted.  This was not a face that he normally showed the world, but it was probably one of his truest.  He pushed himself off the wall and began moving towards the garage again.  There was work to be done, and less time to do it in.

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