Remy sat on the edge of his bed and glared at his hands. They were
normal now. There was no unearthly glow, no tingling. But he still wasn't
touching anything just in case.
Remy had known he was a mutant from the moment he was born. Some of his first memories were of people who hated him for his eyes. He remembered an old woman at the homeless shelter (the one time he had been to one) who had screamed when she saw him and thrown him out into the snow, right under the sign that said 'no one turned away'. He remembered when a nice shop owner gave him an entire bag of croissants and they'd been taken by a fellow street rat who said that "Muties shouldn' eat food dat can fill human bellies". Most of all he remembered Father Bentley, who had beaten Remy to a bloody pulp every chance he got for eight years.
Yet every time someone had hit him, or taken things from him, or thrown him out of a store, he had been able to take it because he knew that he wasn't that bad. Everyone talked about how mutants were dangerous, and how they took from society, and how they would cheat, maim, and murder their way through the world until there were no good humans left. Remy had taken it because he wasn't dangerous. The only thing different about him was a pair of red pupils and black sclera. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Non, I am sure. He thought, twitching his killer-hands. He was dangerous. They were right. The mean old lady at the shelter, the kid who took his food, the shopkeepers who wouldn't let him past their front door, and (most of all) Father Bentley. They were all right. He was a danger to the humans of the world and, even worse, he was a danger to Jean-Luc and his family. He didn't deserve the chance they had given him. He didn't deserve to be in the guild or to live in Jean-Luc's house. He didn't deserve to be called Jean-Luc's son.
Tears poured down Remy's face and he buried his head in his pillow. I don' deserve this . . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Remy?" Jean-Luc LeBeau knocked on the door of his adopted son's room. "Remy? Es-tu là? [are you there?] Remy?" When Jean-Luc wasn't greeted by the string of curses like he usually was, he figured that his newly adopted son had left to visit Tante Mattie without telling anyone. Jean-Luc sighed, the boy had been on his own for ten years. It was imposable to expect him to always tell an adult when he wanted to go out. Still, he thought, I might as well check. . .
Jean-Luc pushed the door open and walked into the amazingly clean room. No clothes, no glasses, bed made. Oh merde! Remy was gone. All his things were gone. Before Jean-Luc could process the information he was already in action. He ran down the stairs and into his office at top speed.
"HENRI!! HENRI!!" Jean-Luc yelled at the top of his lungs just as his son came into the house.
"Pere? What's going on?"
"Remy's gone, I want you to go to Armand's and see if he's dere, or if de boy's contacted Lapin at all. I'm goin' to Mattie's. Call me if you find anyt'ing. Got it?"
Jean-Luc rushed out the door before Henri could respond, hoping to god that Remy hadn't gotten into anything he couldn't handle.
By the time he had reached Tante Mattie's house, Jean-Luc had already thought of at least thirty different ways for Remy to have gotten himself killed, maimed, or otherwise imperiled. It didn't matter that the boy had survived ten years on his own without getting himself killed. In fact, the way Jean-Luc saw it, he was probably due for something bad.
By the time he had burst into Tante Mattie's house and given her the entire story (without taking a breath) Jean-Luc was on the verge of a heart attack.
"He wouldn' of just left!" Jean-Luc shouted, "De boy was happy! You could see it every time he walked into de room. Why would he run off like dat?"
"I don't know Jean-Luc." Mattie relied, "but we sure as hell ain't gonna let dat boy get away."
I only hope, Jean-Luc thought as Mattie dragged him back out to his car, dat there's somet'ing fo' us to find.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Remy LeBeau crouched down in a dark ally in the heart of the New Orleans French Quarter. He stared at his glowing hands while fire engines rushed past him to the burning building only one block away. He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth as tears ran down his face. More people had been hurt because of him and the killer-hands. If only they'd just go away everything would be fine. . . those people would be fine.
Remy pushed farther into the corner and tried to block out the sound of the fire engines and the panicked people. If only they'd just go away.
A/N: Yah I know its short. Thanks to all the people who said the first chapter was gross, that's what I was aiming for ( Anyway, if you think I should keep going with this story, review! If you think I should quit while I'm ahead, review too! Ok then that's about everything ( Au revior!
Remy had known he was a mutant from the moment he was born. Some of his first memories were of people who hated him for his eyes. He remembered an old woman at the homeless shelter (the one time he had been to one) who had screamed when she saw him and thrown him out into the snow, right under the sign that said 'no one turned away'. He remembered when a nice shop owner gave him an entire bag of croissants and they'd been taken by a fellow street rat who said that "Muties shouldn' eat food dat can fill human bellies". Most of all he remembered Father Bentley, who had beaten Remy to a bloody pulp every chance he got for eight years.
Yet every time someone had hit him, or taken things from him, or thrown him out of a store, he had been able to take it because he knew that he wasn't that bad. Everyone talked about how mutants were dangerous, and how they took from society, and how they would cheat, maim, and murder their way through the world until there were no good humans left. Remy had taken it because he wasn't dangerous. The only thing different about him was a pair of red pupils and black sclera. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Non, I am sure. He thought, twitching his killer-hands. He was dangerous. They were right. The mean old lady at the shelter, the kid who took his food, the shopkeepers who wouldn't let him past their front door, and (most of all) Father Bentley. They were all right. He was a danger to the humans of the world and, even worse, he was a danger to Jean-Luc and his family. He didn't deserve the chance they had given him. He didn't deserve to be in the guild or to live in Jean-Luc's house. He didn't deserve to be called Jean-Luc's son.
Tears poured down Remy's face and he buried his head in his pillow. I don' deserve this . . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Remy?" Jean-Luc LeBeau knocked on the door of his adopted son's room. "Remy? Es-tu là? [are you there?] Remy?" When Jean-Luc wasn't greeted by the string of curses like he usually was, he figured that his newly adopted son had left to visit Tante Mattie without telling anyone. Jean-Luc sighed, the boy had been on his own for ten years. It was imposable to expect him to always tell an adult when he wanted to go out. Still, he thought, I might as well check. . .
Jean-Luc pushed the door open and walked into the amazingly clean room. No clothes, no glasses, bed made. Oh merde! Remy was gone. All his things were gone. Before Jean-Luc could process the information he was already in action. He ran down the stairs and into his office at top speed.
"HENRI!! HENRI!!" Jean-Luc yelled at the top of his lungs just as his son came into the house.
"Pere? What's going on?"
"Remy's gone, I want you to go to Armand's and see if he's dere, or if de boy's contacted Lapin at all. I'm goin' to Mattie's. Call me if you find anyt'ing. Got it?"
Jean-Luc rushed out the door before Henri could respond, hoping to god that Remy hadn't gotten into anything he couldn't handle.
By the time he had reached Tante Mattie's house, Jean-Luc had already thought of at least thirty different ways for Remy to have gotten himself killed, maimed, or otherwise imperiled. It didn't matter that the boy had survived ten years on his own without getting himself killed. In fact, the way Jean-Luc saw it, he was probably due for something bad.
By the time he had burst into Tante Mattie's house and given her the entire story (without taking a breath) Jean-Luc was on the verge of a heart attack.
"He wouldn' of just left!" Jean-Luc shouted, "De boy was happy! You could see it every time he walked into de room. Why would he run off like dat?"
"I don't know Jean-Luc." Mattie relied, "but we sure as hell ain't gonna let dat boy get away."
I only hope, Jean-Luc thought as Mattie dragged him back out to his car, dat there's somet'ing fo' us to find.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Remy LeBeau crouched down in a dark ally in the heart of the New Orleans French Quarter. He stared at his glowing hands while fire engines rushed past him to the burning building only one block away. He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth as tears ran down his face. More people had been hurt because of him and the killer-hands. If only they'd just go away everything would be fine. . . those people would be fine.
Remy pushed farther into the corner and tried to block out the sound of the fire engines and the panicked people. If only they'd just go away.
A/N: Yah I know its short. Thanks to all the people who said the first chapter was gross, that's what I was aiming for ( Anyway, if you think I should keep going with this story, review! If you think I should quit while I'm ahead, review too! Ok then that's about everything ( Au revior!