Disclaimer: The only thing I own are the voices in my head.
Ishandahalf Did you mummy never tell you that it's not nice to blackmail people with shiny golden stars? No? Oh, in that case, gimme, gimme, gimme, I want more! Look! I got some more Romy! Well not Romy, more Rogue beats up the Cajun, but that's good too, right? I'm a good little maniac! Gimme, gimme, gimme!
Anime Addicted Yay! Thanx! Funny but Natural, the story of my life. Oh, no, wait my life is Boring and Freaky. Oh well…
Leann Thanx. But if I write any faster than I do now my fingers will get very upset and my brains will explode. Au.
A/N Well, here's another chapter for you. Btw, if read my other story you will make me a very happy disturbed person. It has Romy!
6. Tell me your name and I will tell you what raving psychotic maniac will try to kill you.
Fissie
Morning had broken, like the first morning, Blackbird had spoken, like the first bird, Praise for the singing, praise for the morning, Praise for the springing fresh from the world. ~Someone shoot m', please.~ He really didn't want to wake up. This had happened every single day for the last few weeks he had been there. It was the one part of the daily routine he did not enjoy. He loved sneaking around the house when the students were at school and the rest was busy doing something else. He loved finding all the rooms and all the closets that he was certain he was not supposed to be looking in. He loved knowing the security flaws. There weren't many, but to a thief like him, they were open doors. He loved the danger-room sessions in the afternoon. He loved those one-on-one's with Wolverine. He didn't like loosing, but he loved getting even. He loved cooking dinner, when it was his turn and eating out when it was Jean's turn. He even loved the constant nagging of Xavier insisting him to go to College. He loved getting home just in time for curfew, wait until everyone slept, sneak out, enjoy the nightlife of New York, come back at three or four in the morning and trying not to wake his roommate. In short, he was slowly getting comfortable in the mansion. One thing stood in his way of feeling absolutely at peace. Mornings. To Remy, seven o'clock in the morning is not a humane hour to be conscious. Kurt however, was right awake and his bafm-ing woke the Cajun every morning. Just like today.
''Stop dat! Some people don' hav' t' wake up yet.'' His sleepy yet angry voice managed to say, while he turned to his other side.
''But you'll miss breakfast!'' Kurt nagged. He knew Remy hated mornings and enjoyed irritation him.
''Oh, no. De horror, de pain, de agony.'' Kurt could hear those muffled words coming from underneath the sheets.
''Fine wiz me, grouchy. Tag (A/N the German 'tag' as in 'bye', not as in 'tag, you're it'.)'' He bafmed out. The intense smell of brimstone made sure Remy knew he would not get any sleep anymore this morning. So he decided to get up looking up to the skies.
''Why me?'' He pleaded.
He dropped his head to look at the ground. ''Why me?''
He decided to check out this morning breakfast thing for the first time in all these weeks. ~How bad can it be?~
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Bad. As he entered the kitchen he found nine horribly awake people present. They greeted him.
''Good morning!'' Too cheerful.
''Coffee.'' Was the only sound his raw voice could make.
''Over there.'' Evan said, grinning.
He took a mug, filled it, tasted the coffee and spat it out in disgust.
''What's dis?''
''Coffee.''
''Dis is _not _ coffee.''
''Its decaf.'' Kitty said.
As soon as the word was spoken the remaining contents of the pot went down the drain and a new batch was made. Remy was amazed of the amount of energy he could manage to gather at such an early hour in order to get himself a proper cup of coffee. After a few minutes, Remy filled his mug again and sighed.
''Ah, caffeine. Hmmmm.''
''Want some toast?'' Jean asked him kindly, a bit too kindly in Scott's eyes.
''Only 'f y' smash it to a pulp so I can drink it. Don' think anything solid can pass m' throat right now'.''
''Not a morning person then?'' Evan said laughingly.
''Where I come from w' don' acknowledge mornin's as existin'.''
''It must be a Southerners thing.'' Scott said in Rogue's direction when she came in.
''Don't talk ta me!'' She scowled as she walked towards the coffeepot.
All of the sudden the Cajun was up and awake. ''G'mornin', chere. How are y'today?''
''Are you deaf? Ah said, don't talk ta me. With that Ah mean, don't bother communicating with me. Do ya think ya and yar five brain cells can manage to understand that?'' She took a mug.
''Me an' m'five brain cells have oder things t'think 'bout.'' He answered, not trying to hide that he was checking her out. She put her mug down and looked at him.
''Me and my fist would be happy to show you how much we appreciate that.''
''Me an' m'mouth 'd like t' show y'how thankful we are f'r y'r appreciation.''
''Fist, Remy. Remy, Fist.'' She said before punching him in his stomach. Than she marched away.
''Chere, y'make m'tummy feel all fuzzy an' nice.'' He said with a childish voice. ~Dieu. Dat girl has a stron' right arm.~
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Having survived morning, Remy found himself in the everyday routine. The students had left to school and/or college. Logan had left to, well, somewhere. Xavier was busy in paper works, Beast was locked away in his lab and Storm was gardening. Peace and tranquility. Rest and serenity at last. Nothing to do, no business to attend to, just sitting back and relax while reading a book. So that's what he did. He took a book, sat in a comfy big leather armchair and started reading. Calmness at last. ~Call me Ishmael~ He sighed. ~Who am I kiddin'?~ Not calm, not at rest, not relaxed. Remy was bored. ~Maybe I should consider dat College thing. Can' be worse dan sittin' here all day.~ Confused that his own thoughts guided him to considering college, he felt he needed some fresh air.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The park was almost deserted when he reached the bench. Just some birds up in the trees. No one in sight when he sat down. Remy took out a cigarette. He brought his left index finger to the top of the cigarette. It started to glow, and with it he lit the cigarette. A trick he learned a long time ago. In his mind, Remy had the most useful power in the world. It turned normal objects into hand grenades, it mended, it warmed up cold soup, and best of all, it lit his cigarettes.
Out of nowhere, a tall man appeared before Remy wearing something that looked like a ragged version of Cyclops uniform. The dark man was almost as wide as he was tall. His face, filled with anger, had a what Remy recognized to be a thin 'M' tattooed on it, right on his forehead. It almost looked like a scar. All together, a weird man.
''You! The Witness!'' He shouted and without a second thought he pointed an incredibly large and weird looking gun-like device at the Cajun. Definitely a weird man.
''Mon ami, if I be a witness, I wan' a protection program.'' He started shifting to the nearest end of the bench, but the man's gun did not stop pointing at him. He wanted to throw some charged cards at him, but he really didn't feel like starting a riot in the middle of a park. So he made a backward flip and started running away from the weirdo and especially from the huge gun. Did that mad man want him dead? Why? Why did he call Remy a witness?
Lost in thought he didn't notice his surroundings and his attempt of fleeing was abruptly stopped by a tree. The man quickly caught up on him and the gun was pointed to his head again.
''I had not thought I would recognize you. But your tricks are still the same.'' His rage and anger were well audible. ''You will not escape me now, LeBeau!''
''How y'know m'name?'' He glared at the man viciously. He hadn't told anyone around here his last name. And he didn't like it to be used in vain.
''I know many things about you, traitor!''
''Y'know nothin'!'' He kicked the mad man's gun away and started running again. ~Traitor? I never betrayed anyone. Well, not in any oder way dan professionally...Could he be an Assassin? No, Assassins may be stupid, but at least dey're subtle. Dis psycho here don' even know de meanin' o de word.~ He heard the man shout at him.
''You are Remy LeBeau, son of Jean-Luc LeBeau, exiled Prince of the New Orleans Guild of Thieves, X-man, Murderer, Traitor!''
Faster than humanly possible, Remy turned around and ran back to the man. ''Keep y'r voice down, will y'!''
At that point Remy concluded that running back towards a maniac was not a very smart move on his behalf, because the gun was again pointed to his head.
''Who are you?'' Obviously a psychopath and Remy had enough experience to know that the best way to keep a raving maniac from shooting you is to ask questions and talk about their intents. Lesson one in dealing with psychopaths: You beat around the bush and they won't beat you to pulp.
''My name is unimportant, as you will not live to see another day, LeBeau.''
''How d' y'know 'bout me?'' Lesson two: Keep babbling.
''Stop postponing the inevitable.'' Remy distinctly heard the gun making a very small noise. It sounded, yes, it almost sounded like ~De clickin' o' a gun?~ Time was running short. So, Remy resorted to a less ingenious, but non the less efficient diversion technique.
''Look behind y'. A t'ree-headed monkey!'' The man, who Remy by now had decided to refer to as the raving psychotic maniac, looked behind him in a reflex. Remy kicked him in the groin, flung a charged card at him and started running. ~De taller dey are, de dumber dey turn out t'be.~ Not very ingenious, but a highly effective escape routine it was.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Morning continued is this awful way. Where ever he went the raving psychotic maniac would soon find him. He didn't slow down, he didn't tire he didn't look injured although Remy was certain he should have considering the amount of charged cards he had tossed at him. All and all, not a nice way of beginning an otherwise perfectly beautiful day.
After running for a mile or nine he found a nice pub. He entered it. ~De more people I'm around, de less chance o'bein' shot at.~
Unfortunately, after a few glasses of bourbon he needed to go to the restroom. Guess who he found, unharmed and unscratched for the millionth time that day.
''You will not escape so easily, LeBeau!''
~Dis can' be real.~ He pinched himself ~Au. Merde.~ He took another card in his hand.
''The only thing you will destroy is this room. I am mutant too, I can absorb the energy you throw at me and use it against you. You cannot harm me.''
~Dat explains a lot.~ The man moved towards him. ~An' it don' explain notin' Cajun-friendly.~
Gambit slowly stepped back, until he reached one of the walls. He was caught between the rock and the raving psychotic maniac. ~I feel like a goalie f'r de dart team.~ Than he saw his escape, hanging above the delirious man.
''Love t' hang 'round, cher, y'know, get a coupl' o'drinks, get t'know y' a li'l, but I don' wanna.'' He flung a card to the ceiling. The heavy lamp fell on his head and knocked the man out. Probably not for longer than a second, but Remy had no intent to sit and wait for him to get up.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
A fanatic man, normally known to man as Remy, was banging on the door. They had never given him his own keys, Xavier assumed Wolverine had given them to him, Wolverine assumed Storm had given them to him, and so on. He had never asked for keys, because he didn't require them. But now he was in a slight bit of panic and his hands would not allow him to pick the lock.
''OPEN DE GODDAMN DOOR! COM' ON! COM' ON! OPEN IT!'' He said while slamming his fists on the door.
Logan answered it.
''What going on Gumbo?'' Remy stormed passed him. ''CLOSEDEDOORDERE'SAFUCKIN'TENFOOTGUYWIDAN'M' TATTOOEDONHISFOREHEADCHASIN'M'ASSWIDAFIVEFOOTRIFLEHIDEMEQUICK!'' Quicksilver would have had trouble understanding him.
''What?'' Logan growled.
''I said: DERE'SAFUCKIN'TENFOOTGUYWIDAN'M'TATTOOEDONHISFOREHEADCHASIN'M'ASSWIDAFIVEFOOT RIFLEHIDEMEQUICK!''
Some of the students came down to see what all the commotion was about.
''I, like, distinctly heard 'ten foot guy', I think.''
''Ja, I zink I heard, 'five foot rifle'.''
''Just calm down and tell us!'' Scott said annoyed.
Remy sighed and tried to calm down. ''Dere's a...'' he bit his lip not to use the F-word ''...Raving psychotic maniacal ten foot guy wid an 'M' tattooed on his forehead chasin' m' 'round like I got Prozac stuck t' m'ass. Now, I get dis kind o'things all de time, no worries dere. But dis one has a five foot gun he's too eager to put m' down wid.'' Calming down was not an option.
Logan, Kurt, Kitty and Scott really didn't know what to make of this. So they stared at him as if he was the maniac. Remy was getting annoyed.
''He chased m'all day! He followed m'here too. I know it. He be out dere right now, watin' f'r me t'come out.''
''You're paranoid.'' ~And most likely high on something.~ Scott added privately.
''Jus' cause I'm paranoid, don' mean dey're not after m'.''
There was a call at front gate of the mansion. Remy went back in panic-mode.
''If y' can' beat dem, hide until de blow is over. Bye.'' He ran up the stairs.
Scott answered the call.
''Yes?''
''Good morning. My name is Bishop. I wish to talk to you. It is quite urgent.''
A/N Short, but I hope you like it.
On next: Bishop wants to talk? That's a new one. What will he say? Will he get a cup of nice tea to calm him down while he talks?
Review to make me continue, review to make me stop. Either way, you review because if you don't I'm going to cry. And then you'll drown in the salty river of my tears. Not a nice prospect, right? You know what to do.