Pyromane
(You know what I means by now)
DISCLAIMER: For the eighth time, I don't own X-Men.
Remy observes a teammate. It's all about the interaction.
AN: Woo hoo! I'm finally back from vacation. I had a great time, if anyone cares, and I actually did get a friend to come up a few days after I did. That little vacation inspired another wonderful Acolyte fic, so prepare yourselves. I haven't written more than a page or so, but it will be done.
Oh yeah, something good came for readers from my vacation—lots more Pyromane! I've had another rush like the 4/5/6 one… Unfortunately it's all in the now-much-more-used-and-half-full- Fanfiction Notebook. That means I have to go back and type it all. At least it's written.
Too much Author's Note again. On with the fic…
Chapter 8
Gambit's Getaway
(a.k.a. The Beginning Of…)
At first, I felt bad about what I did. Guilty. I knew I was betraying his privacy and trust. But now I don't. One of my beliefs is that once something's done, it's done. I made my choice weeks ago to ignore the signs that his notebooks were guarded possessions. I've got no intention to waste my time dwelling over everything. I'm over the feeling of guilt and need of repentance. But John's not over the anger. I've known for a while that John's a hot head. In more ways than one. I know he doesn't exactly like to forgive the actions of others. He holds grudges. How he's acting know, on that sustained anger, that's really getting on my nerves. He's not one to go about his ways like most people I come in contact with. Usually, it's because he's insane that he stands apart from others in my mind. Now it's his age that's showing through as a difference. He's still mad as hell after four days. I'd be content after kicking the ass of whoever set me off. In addition to that, John has acted like a little kid with a grudge. He refuses to acknowledge, giving me the silent treatment and more. He's immature! I'm going to go crazier than him if I don't get away from everything. I decide to get off base, away from the animosity.
I storm down the hall after I change. I plan on going into town for the day. I'm sure there will be enough things to occupy my time, and by that I mean distract me and kill hours on end. I'm heading straight for the garage. I do pass the kitchen on my way. There's no semi-albino body on the floor, so I guess I didn't manage to kill him. Not how it's only half-sarcastic when I say: Too bad.
I've made it all the way across base, and it only occurs to me to make mention of my departure. I backtrack through the halls until I find Piotr's room.
His door is open, so I knock on the frame instead to get his attention. Piotr's hunched over his desk in the far corner. He doesn't seem to hear me, probably lost in a drawing. The pencil moving furiously in his hand confirms it.
"Piotr?" I question.
He jumps. Facing me, I can see two small black wires trailing down from his ears to something resting on his desk. He's either been listening to the English tapes for the hundredth time, or some of the strange classical music he listens to on occasion. Either way, it explains why he didn't hear me.
"I apologize," he mumbled, gesturing for me to enter.
It's amazing how different Piotr's room is from mine or John's. There aren't any personal items on display, save a pile of books and the drawing he's working on. There aren't any clothes lying around or anything. Not even something so little as a misplaced sock. I don't know where he keeps his stuff. He only has the same small dresser as in all the rooms. I know I can't fit all my stuff into mine. His bed is neatly made and pressed against the right wall. That seems to be about it.
"What is it?" he asks me.
"Oh, I'm goin' intah town for the day. Thought I'd tell someone so we'd know John hadn't just killed me and hid the body."
Piotr scowls at me. Right, I forget he doesn't particularly like morbid humor.
"You need anyt'ing?"
He shook his head.
"Remy gonna be off den," I say, twirling my key ring around my finger. I've had it in my hand ever since I almost got into the garage. Apparently I've rotated it one time too hard. As soon as the last word escaped my mouth, the keys went flying away from me, landing squarely on Piotr's desk.
"Sorry," I say quickly. I move to the landing sight to retrieve the keys. I'm surprised by the drawing that they've landed on.
"Feelin' a little gothic today, mon ami?"
The drawing was nothing like his usual peaceful landscapes and sketches. He must have used charcoal to get the darker tones that came together to form what looks like a castle, done at a strange angle from the perspective of someone standing on the ground, peering in the entrance hall at the shadowy beginnings of a person still in sketch-form. Scattered around the unfinished one are about a dozen similar finished drawings. They're all the same content, but from different angles and perspectives, not to mention done with different mediums.
"No," he pauses. "It's a…commission?"
I nod and begin to leave the room.
"What do you think?"
"Good," I give him a nod of approval. "Weird fer you, but good." I stick my keys safely back in my coat pocket, making sure to note which one.
"Gambit'll be back in a few hours." I call back as I head out of his room and back toward the garage.
It was a good 20-minute ride into the heart of Bayville. I admit, I did take my time cruising the back roads to get there. Alone on my motorcycle, coat flaring out behind me. It was definitely a pleasant experience, especially compared to the hostility on base.
Now I'm in the center of Bayville's commercial district. I parked behind a rod of connected stores and began wandering, looking for something to do.
I duck into one of the closer stores of my interest, the record store. I move slowly between the aisles, in search of any decent titles. I'm not paying complete attention to my walking by the time I reach the end of the last main aisle. I nearly walk into a large sign proclaiming a new 'Import CDs' collection. I'm empty-handed, and I've already prowled the rest of the store, so I have nothing to lose by looking there.
The Import section is so small I don't see why they even bothered advertising it. It's only a roughly 4-foot wide section of the same layered black shelves as the rest of the store. Someone just pushed it separate of the other sections until it was tucked away in the back corner.
I look on the side facing the rest of the store rater than the back wall first. There was someone already browsing the other side. By the dividers, I knew I was looking at N-Z first. I don't remember all the bands, but I recognize the names of several of John's favorite. That tiny section of my brain that, much to my annoyance, still feels bad is urging me to get one of the CDs as a peace offering. On that train of thought, I recall one band that appears more than anything else on John's poster-wallpaper. I'll have to wait before looking, as the band fall under A-M, and the other patron is still standing there. In the meantime, another name comes to mind. I scan the shelves for the band. I eventually find it and pick up the case for further inspection.
"Oi, you lookin' for Aussie music?" I jump at the accent. There's no way in hell John's here. I look up quickly at the person on the other side of the shelf. He's familiar. I've only ever met one Australian with green hair like his, eyebrows died to match.
The kid looks just as surprised as I am.
"Remy?" he asks cautiously. That definitely confirmed it.
"Nigel, right?" It's been months since I've seen him, and I only was in contact with him for three days, but apparently I'm just as memorable as he is.
Nigel is one of John's old friends from Australia. He was actually the one to introduce me to John in the first place when I went to recruit him. Nigel was easy to remember. He had green hair, something uncommon in his small town not too far outside Sydney. It was short all around, but the sides were shaved down to little more than green stubble. It gave the effect of the most unique Mohawk I think I've ever seen. I doubt my descriptions that great for it.
He hardly looks different now. He still wears the same style clothes, lots of plaid and metal. The only visible difference is a long scar running down the side of his face that looked very new.
"Fancy meeting you…" Nigel still looks rather stunned. It only took him a moment to recover. "John tainted your taste in music?" He glanced down at the CD in my hand as he spoke.
"Oh, non…" I shove the CD hastily back into his place. "Toying with the idea of a peace offering."
He raises an eyebrow at me.
"Homme's out for mah blood."
"Hell hath a fury very muck like a pissed off pyro," He chuckled.
John had just as great a reputation in Australia as he does here. The only difference is here, we gave him flamethrowers.
There is a moment of awkward silence
"A lot been goin' on 'round here?" he asks.
"Not that much. You?"
"I think we've got a lot to catch up on.
I nod.
"You drink coffee?"
I agree, and we head our of the record store to a diner not far down the road.
To be continued…
Just as fast as I can type. I didn't sleep so I could type this chapter! Seriously, it's like 7 a.m.
More of Remy's day on the town, mostly about him. It is from his perspective, after all.
AN 2: Nigel is an OC, but he's a lot more minor than the end of this chapter makes him seem. He's really only there to keep Remy thinking on the right track. Think of him as a funny, human shaped reminder… And he might at some point allow for further Remy/Piotr interaction. People liked Ch. 6, didn't they?
Special Thanks To:
X-Girl(4)- Sorry I didn't get this up before vacation…I could have, but I was lazy. Enjoy your chocolate!
Faeryeyes- You bring up a good point… Maybe John should ponder that in future chapters. The only thing I can't decide about is Ramen. I don't make it all soupy, so a spoon doesn't work. Then it's weird using a for for such tiny noodles… I always end up using chopsticks. Don't ask why. I don't know.
Faith- Thanks for clearing that up. I knew it was something along those lines, but that was almost a year ago.
Snitter in Rivendell- I have finally written Mags into the story! Either 9 or 10, I don't know the best place to break the two chunks of text. And thanks, I did have a good time.
Dark-English-Rose- He wouldn't have a chance against our combined forces. And then we could use him to lure John andPiotr out of hiding… I love evil plans.
Crimson Fangs- Yeah, there could have been more. I think I was just in a hurry to post something before I went on vacation, and I already scrapped one version of 7. Oh well. By the way, you've got an awesome penname.
Akai Kah'ghe- Please note I'm blushing like mad. I really didn't mean for there to be innuendo. I'm only 15!(16 in October)
Dragon Master Lytore- There's no more bloodloss, so they mus tbe getting along somewhat better…
pix- Enjoy the update! Not tha there's anything special about it, but…::shrugs::
epona- I thank all my reviewers! Even if the thank you part turns out to be longer than the chapter itself.
Icy Flame- I love that review!
Lady Kat- Lucky you, our school only puts on stupid plays. I like Shakespeare, to an extent! At least its better than some thing about a mattress.
Sabrin- Enjoy Piotr!
Wolfpup- thanks.
QuackMoo- Soon to come, John and the Acolytes before he was recruited! Yay for story arcs!
Ima Super Mute Ant- This is great, I'm even beginning to convert people to Acolyte (well, pyro at least) fans!