1.1.1.1 Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own this stuff. I just borrow the Xmen because Marvel make soooo much better characters than the crappy little mental midgets I can come up with.

1.1.1.2

1.1.1.3 Chapter 3

"Some say the devil be a mystical thing

I say the devil he's a walking man

He a fool he a liar conjurer and a thief."

-Tracy Chapman, crossroads

When Remy awoke the next morning, he felt even worse. He had thought for a moment that he would have peace in mind if he worked himself to the limit, and beyond, but when he woke up it was from another nightmare. That only strengthened him in his conviction. He needed to set things straight, to take it back.

Before breakfast, he packed what he thought that he might need. A few extra clothes, some packs of cards, a couple of knives for emergency cases.and a photo of the X-men. His family. More than Jean-Luc and the Guild ever had been able to be for him. And more important, Marrow was in that picture. Just in case he would forget why he was doing this. He took a last look around the room, and placed a note on his bed. He didn't want to worry anyone, but it might be best that they didn't find out what he was going to do before he was impossible to find. Then he slinged the bag over his shoulder, and headed towards the garage.

It was a beautiful morning. His Harley roared under him, and the wind played with his hair, nearly tearing the roots out as he speeded past a truck and returned the rude gesture the driver sent him. He almost felt like laughing - he was going to set things right, as good as possible, or die trying. That alternative didn't sound all that bad at the moment, considering what he was going to do, but he quickly pushed away those thoughts. All he needed to do was to find the one responsible.All he needed to do was to take revenge...And then he'd be free to set things right.

-Back at the mansion-

Scott stared at Logan. 'What do you mean he's not in his room? He knows we have a session now, and we would have been started off if it wasn't.!' The others waited silently, as Logan handed over a note. 'He seems to be on his way to 'deal with his past', whatever that might mean.' They all knew that there was more than enough for their Cajun friend to deal with from his past, so what he was up to noone could tell for certain. 'His Harley's gone from the garage, so he could be about anywhere.' Logan continued, and then glanced at Jean. 'Ya think ya can find him?' he asked her, while ignoring the annoyed look Scott shoot him. Jean looked a bit uncertain, and then sighed.

'I don't know. Perhaps with Cerebro, but.' 'But he's learned how to hide, haven't he?' Scott said, sounding both annoyed and worried. Jean nodded in agreement. 'Yes. If he doesn't want to be found, I'll be lucky to even find a trace of him.'

-New York, Downtown-

Remy waited patiently at the bar. He had his contacts, and now was the time to pull the strings. When he swept his gaze around the bar, he knew that he was recognized. It was the kind of place where he would be known, and in a good day avoided as well. The glass of Bourbon in front of him stood where the bartender had left it, untouched. He needed his mind around him if he was going to pull this off. Then came what he had been waiting for.

'Mister LeBeau?' The voice behind him was soft and sounded well mannered. But when he turned around, he was glad that he knew what to expect.

The man behind him looked like he was built two times over the ordinary human scales - almost 8 feet tall and with a large, black mane of hair hanging down over his shoulders, that were almost as broad as two ordinary men. Dressed all in black leather, he looked like some over dimensioned Hells Angel.

'Oui. Long time no see, Frankie.' Remy smiled up at the larger man, who almost brushed the ceiling with the top of his head. 'Did y' fin' what I sent y' for?' Frankie nodded, and motioned towards the door. ''S right outside, mister LeBeau.' Remy nodded and picked up his bag. 'Good. Y' show de way.' He could feel everyone in the room watching them as they stepped out.

On the empty street outside, Remy hessitated for a moment, then turned towards Frankie.

'W'as dis, Frankie? W'ere's-' He was interupted by a sudden pain in the back of his head, and wrinkled up his face in confusion as his knees folded under him. The last he could see was Frankies sad face as he said, 'Really sorry 'bout all this, Mister LeBeau...really am.' Then a deep darkness opened under him, and the world faded away.