Okay everyone, I've been debating whether it put this up or not, so here it
is. Please review and be nice!
This is an AU fic for the X-men characters. I don't own any of the Marvel characters. I do own the Wolves, so just ask before you use them, k? All right. Enjoy!
Sorry, as a note, Remy is younger in this fic. He's not the master thief that we've all come to love yet. Okay, now you can start reading.
Chapter 1
The boy flicked his wrist, causing the playing card in his hand to sail across the room. It landed in the waste basket, coming to rest with a whisper on top of numerous other cards. The child sighed as he stared at the depleting pile in his palm. Dis ain' helpin' none, Remy. The youth scolded himself. You gotta do somethin' to fix your problems, not jus' wait for dem to work out on deir own. He levered himself gracefully out of the chair he had been slouching in and covered the distance to the wastebasket quickly. His long stride fit his lanky frame. Remy stooped over, retrieved the cards, and placed them almost lovingly in a pocket of his trench coat.
Turning purpose now apparent in his stride, the boy crossed the room and opened the door. He entered a maze of hallways, still moving confidently. His worn, brown trench coat fluttered behind him as his pace increased. Remy unconsciously shoved his sunglasses further up on his nose, completely masking his eyes. As the boy moved farther into the building, his stride shortened. It gained a cocky, yet secretive gate. He turned so many corners that he lost count before finally reaching the exit. It stood across a large room, packed with people of every description.
Closest to the youth were two men in expensive Italian suits. Their hair was slicked back and comical mustaches rested on their upper lips. They gave the impression of looking down their noses at everyone, but Remy could see the fear deep in their eyes. A group of whores stood off to the left, surrounding a man with so much jewelry he looked like a disco ball. The girls giggled as Remy strode past, smiling and winking suggestively. The youth flashed them his own charming smile, but kept moving. The men nearest the door eyed his approach warily.
They were a rougher group; unshaven, scared, tattered, and smelling heavily of smoke. A few had cigarettes hanging limply from the corners of their mouths. The rest had one tucked behind their ear. Some lifted their heads in greeting to the child, while others sneered. As Remy neared the door, one of the larger ones stepped forward to block him.
"Where do ya think you're goin'?" He demanded.
"Out." The boy answered simply, wrinkling his nose at the whiskey rolling off of the man's breath.
"Did the boss say ya could?"
Remy sighed and shrugged. "He don' care what I do wit' my free time. I got my work done for today, so I can do what I please."
"Ya should go ask."
"I'll deal wit' 'im later."
"God, Gambit, one of these days ya ain't gonna wake up, ya keep acting like this."
Remy shrugged again. The 'codename' still sounded wrong to his ears. It wasn't bad. Just not his yet.
"I'll take me chances, merci." The boy's Cajun accent flowed through his words, bringing them to life.
The child pushed past the human wall to finally step outside in the fresh air. His senses were immediately assaulted. Loud music burst on his eardrums as a multitude of smells funneled up his nose. The sights were enough to make even a native see spots. Ah, New Orleans. Remy thought with a sigh. The youth stuffed his hands comfortably in his trench coat and picked a direction randomly to start walking in. It didn't matter much where he was going, as long as he was going somewhere. Jus' like de boss always says, "You keep movin', 'n dey can' gettcha."
Remy swung around numerous corners before forcing himself to shake off his thoughts. Glancing around, the boy's stomach dropped into his feet and was replaced with a block of ice. Oh, merdi! The youth cursed, sliding into a crouch behind a dumpster. Of all de places I coulda gone . . . Remy slid a throwing dagger into each hand before chancing another look. The boy raised his head above the dumpster so that only the top of his head and sunglasses were visible. This time his stomach went through his shoes and into the ground.
A circle had formed around Remy's hiding place, lined up shoulder to shoulder. All of them stared with emotionless eyes. The area was eerily quiet after the bustling main strip, but the youth hadn't noticed it until just now. As the boy watched, a small group detached from the circle and came a few steps closer. The barrier quickly tightened to make up for the loss. The 'elite few' came to a rest in front of the dumpster. One of them motioned silently for Remy to come forward.
Fear tightened his throat, but Remy fought to keep his voice from quivering as he stepped out.
"Bonjour, hommes. Wha' c'n I do for you?" His tenor voice slipped across the space with cool confidence.
Remy kept the daggers in his palms, but hid both in the large sleeves of his coat. He scanned the group, trying to pick out any weaknesses with his trained eyes. The youth started on the left, tracing a large, bulky man from behind his sunglasses. The bulk was pure muscle, and he certainly had a lot of it. A slightly receding hair line and the stray strand of silver betrayed his mounting years, but nothing else gave it away. His mouth was pressed into a thin, tight line. His eyes were a cold steel blue. At least one was. The other was glazed over with a cloudy white haze, a scar running through it. The mark started just below his cheekbone and cut a diagonal to stop just before his hairline. A normal T-shirt and jeans covered the impressive frame.
The boy flicked his eyes over again to the far right. The ones on the ends always seem to attack first. Oh, Lord above, help me. This man was younger, definitely, but just as muscular. He didn't appear bulky, just very intimidating. Wild green eyes peered out through thick eyebrows. The rest of his head had been shaven bald, revealing a few scars. His mouth was contorted into a sneer. A tight tank top strained against his muscles, as the jeans did the same. Tattoos of thick chains encircled his arms, chest, and neck. The man kept flexing his hand, as if he was barely containing the urge to hurt someone.
The next one brought Remy closer to the center. This guy was still flirting over the line of boy and adulthood. He had a lanky, almost wiry frame with muscles that looked like thick cords. His rich brown eyes studied the boy carefully. Arms were crossed almost lazily over his chest, hiding the logo on his shirt. A few strands of brown hair fell into his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice them. Remy narrowed his eyes as he saw what might have been a smile flit across the stranger's lips. Mon dieu, why do I always find de crazy ones!
Lastly, at the center of the group, stood a young girl. Maybe a few years younger than the lanky one, but obviously in charge. She gave off an aura of power and authority that made Remy's chest go tight as it touched him. The girl's smooth black hair was caught up in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Dark, almost black eyes, were framed by thick lashes. Their depths were layered with questions and curiosity that didn't make it to the rest of her face. This girl took a step forward, leaving the others behind, and came to a stop a few feet from Remy.
"What are you going here?" She demanded, her voice flavored with a Northern accent.
Remy shrugged and flashed her an innocent grin. "Not'in', chere. Jus' wasn' lookin' where I was goin', is all. No harm, oui?" Keeping the smile, the boy pushed as much charm into his voice as he could.
The woman seemed unaffected as she quirked a suspicious eyebrow. "What is your name, boy?"
Boy? What she mean by dat?! I bet I got least two years on her, if not more. The boy thought angrily, stuffing his hands deep in his trench coat pockets, all the time keeping his pleasant expression plastered on his face. "Tell you, soon as I learn your's."
Did ya like it? Did ya, did ya, did ya, did ya? Sorry. Now I'm annoying myself. For those of you who don't know some French:
Merdi=shit Mon Dieu=My Lord/My God hommes=guys/men
The others are pretty basic. So, I hope you enjoyed the fic, and please review!
This is an AU fic for the X-men characters. I don't own any of the Marvel characters. I do own the Wolves, so just ask before you use them, k? All right. Enjoy!
Sorry, as a note, Remy is younger in this fic. He's not the master thief that we've all come to love yet. Okay, now you can start reading.
Chapter 1
The boy flicked his wrist, causing the playing card in his hand to sail across the room. It landed in the waste basket, coming to rest with a whisper on top of numerous other cards. The child sighed as he stared at the depleting pile in his palm. Dis ain' helpin' none, Remy. The youth scolded himself. You gotta do somethin' to fix your problems, not jus' wait for dem to work out on deir own. He levered himself gracefully out of the chair he had been slouching in and covered the distance to the wastebasket quickly. His long stride fit his lanky frame. Remy stooped over, retrieved the cards, and placed them almost lovingly in a pocket of his trench coat.
Turning purpose now apparent in his stride, the boy crossed the room and opened the door. He entered a maze of hallways, still moving confidently. His worn, brown trench coat fluttered behind him as his pace increased. Remy unconsciously shoved his sunglasses further up on his nose, completely masking his eyes. As the boy moved farther into the building, his stride shortened. It gained a cocky, yet secretive gate. He turned so many corners that he lost count before finally reaching the exit. It stood across a large room, packed with people of every description.
Closest to the youth were two men in expensive Italian suits. Their hair was slicked back and comical mustaches rested on their upper lips. They gave the impression of looking down their noses at everyone, but Remy could see the fear deep in their eyes. A group of whores stood off to the left, surrounding a man with so much jewelry he looked like a disco ball. The girls giggled as Remy strode past, smiling and winking suggestively. The youth flashed them his own charming smile, but kept moving. The men nearest the door eyed his approach warily.
They were a rougher group; unshaven, scared, tattered, and smelling heavily of smoke. A few had cigarettes hanging limply from the corners of their mouths. The rest had one tucked behind their ear. Some lifted their heads in greeting to the child, while others sneered. As Remy neared the door, one of the larger ones stepped forward to block him.
"Where do ya think you're goin'?" He demanded.
"Out." The boy answered simply, wrinkling his nose at the whiskey rolling off of the man's breath.
"Did the boss say ya could?"
Remy sighed and shrugged. "He don' care what I do wit' my free time. I got my work done for today, so I can do what I please."
"Ya should go ask."
"I'll deal wit' 'im later."
"God, Gambit, one of these days ya ain't gonna wake up, ya keep acting like this."
Remy shrugged again. The 'codename' still sounded wrong to his ears. It wasn't bad. Just not his yet.
"I'll take me chances, merci." The boy's Cajun accent flowed through his words, bringing them to life.
The child pushed past the human wall to finally step outside in the fresh air. His senses were immediately assaulted. Loud music burst on his eardrums as a multitude of smells funneled up his nose. The sights were enough to make even a native see spots. Ah, New Orleans. Remy thought with a sigh. The youth stuffed his hands comfortably in his trench coat and picked a direction randomly to start walking in. It didn't matter much where he was going, as long as he was going somewhere. Jus' like de boss always says, "You keep movin', 'n dey can' gettcha."
Remy swung around numerous corners before forcing himself to shake off his thoughts. Glancing around, the boy's stomach dropped into his feet and was replaced with a block of ice. Oh, merdi! The youth cursed, sliding into a crouch behind a dumpster. Of all de places I coulda gone . . . Remy slid a throwing dagger into each hand before chancing another look. The boy raised his head above the dumpster so that only the top of his head and sunglasses were visible. This time his stomach went through his shoes and into the ground.
A circle had formed around Remy's hiding place, lined up shoulder to shoulder. All of them stared with emotionless eyes. The area was eerily quiet after the bustling main strip, but the youth hadn't noticed it until just now. As the boy watched, a small group detached from the circle and came a few steps closer. The barrier quickly tightened to make up for the loss. The 'elite few' came to a rest in front of the dumpster. One of them motioned silently for Remy to come forward.
Fear tightened his throat, but Remy fought to keep his voice from quivering as he stepped out.
"Bonjour, hommes. Wha' c'n I do for you?" His tenor voice slipped across the space with cool confidence.
Remy kept the daggers in his palms, but hid both in the large sleeves of his coat. He scanned the group, trying to pick out any weaknesses with his trained eyes. The youth started on the left, tracing a large, bulky man from behind his sunglasses. The bulk was pure muscle, and he certainly had a lot of it. A slightly receding hair line and the stray strand of silver betrayed his mounting years, but nothing else gave it away. His mouth was pressed into a thin, tight line. His eyes were a cold steel blue. At least one was. The other was glazed over with a cloudy white haze, a scar running through it. The mark started just below his cheekbone and cut a diagonal to stop just before his hairline. A normal T-shirt and jeans covered the impressive frame.
The boy flicked his eyes over again to the far right. The ones on the ends always seem to attack first. Oh, Lord above, help me. This man was younger, definitely, but just as muscular. He didn't appear bulky, just very intimidating. Wild green eyes peered out through thick eyebrows. The rest of his head had been shaven bald, revealing a few scars. His mouth was contorted into a sneer. A tight tank top strained against his muscles, as the jeans did the same. Tattoos of thick chains encircled his arms, chest, and neck. The man kept flexing his hand, as if he was barely containing the urge to hurt someone.
The next one brought Remy closer to the center. This guy was still flirting over the line of boy and adulthood. He had a lanky, almost wiry frame with muscles that looked like thick cords. His rich brown eyes studied the boy carefully. Arms were crossed almost lazily over his chest, hiding the logo on his shirt. A few strands of brown hair fell into his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice them. Remy narrowed his eyes as he saw what might have been a smile flit across the stranger's lips. Mon dieu, why do I always find de crazy ones!
Lastly, at the center of the group, stood a young girl. Maybe a few years younger than the lanky one, but obviously in charge. She gave off an aura of power and authority that made Remy's chest go tight as it touched him. The girl's smooth black hair was caught up in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Dark, almost black eyes, were framed by thick lashes. Their depths were layered with questions and curiosity that didn't make it to the rest of her face. This girl took a step forward, leaving the others behind, and came to a stop a few feet from Remy.
"What are you going here?" She demanded, her voice flavored with a Northern accent.
Remy shrugged and flashed her an innocent grin. "Not'in', chere. Jus' wasn' lookin' where I was goin', is all. No harm, oui?" Keeping the smile, the boy pushed as much charm into his voice as he could.
The woman seemed unaffected as she quirked a suspicious eyebrow. "What is your name, boy?"
Boy? What she mean by dat?! I bet I got least two years on her, if not more. The boy thought angrily, stuffing his hands deep in his trench coat pockets, all the time keeping his pleasant expression plastered on his face. "Tell you, soon as I learn your's."
Did ya like it? Did ya, did ya, did ya, did ya? Sorry. Now I'm annoying myself. For those of you who don't know some French:
Merdi=shit Mon Dieu=My Lord/My God hommes=guys/men
The others are pretty basic. So, I hope you enjoyed the fic, and please review!