Yea! Finals are over! Okay, I've kept Rem and Ro safe, but now all bets are off...Please read and review!

Very slowly, Remy regained consciousness. There was a terrible pain in his neck, and although he kept his eyes closed, it still felt as though he were being blinded by a horribly bright light. His mind was fogged by a red haze, and he struggled to remember what had happened and where he was.

Although his throat was parched and dry, he managed to let out a croak as he attempted to feel his neck, to see why it was throbbing. It wasn't until then that he realized why the rest of his body ached; he was strapped down to some sort of board, so tightly in fact that the straps cut into his skin, even restricting his breathing. His lungs burned, his eyes burned, and in fact there was hardly a part of his body that didn't hurt, one way or another.

It was a battle for him to even open his eyes, but after a while he managed to force one part way. He hadn't realized that he was also very dizzy, but he must have been because the ceiling began to spin. For some reason, the light bothered his eyes horribly, but his mind was too foggy to know why. They had always been sensitive to bright lights, but it didn't seem like the light was any stronger than a normal room.

Eventually, the spinning stopped, and his eyes adjusted some what to the light, although they still burned with tears. He tried to focus his mind, to concentrate on the ceiling, so as to prevent being overwhelmed by the pain and loss of memory. It wasn't easy.

He couldn't lift his head to see the rest of the room where he was apparently being held captive, but he had learned from his life as both a thief and an X-Man that sometimes the simplest things can tell a lot. The ceiling, for instance, was plain sterile white, smooth, without spackle. He was guessing that one of the reasons the room was so bright was because it was all white. Darker colors would have dulled the brightness of the ceiling, and brighter colors would have been reflected on it. As best as Remy could tell, the whole room was white, like a hospital. However, he realized that hospitals don't usually keep their patients strapped to boards with metal restraints...

Somewhere on the other side of the room, he heard what sounded like someone moving around. Remy tried to talk, to let whoever was there know that he was awake, but in the end, all he could manage was a croaking sound. The words just would not come out of his mouth. So instead he shifted around as much as the restraints would allow, which unfortunately was not much, hoping to attract attention. Whoever was holding him obviously wanted to make sure that he stayed put because not only were his arms and legs shackled down in these unusual steel straps, but also his chest, shoulders, and even his head.

Whoever was there must have heard him because Remy heard the sound of his boots on the metal floor as he stood up. "Hey, I think he's awake," came a man's voice. A second later, he saw a young, blond-haired man with a heavy cleft chin standing over him with a nasty sneer on his face. Immediately, he recognized where he must be. The man had on the black and red uniform of a Friends of Humanity soldier. And even if he had somehow never seen one of these odious people before, it would have been hard to miss the letters 'F.O.H' on his hat, jacket pocket, and on the white sash on his arm. To Remy, the blood red letters written on it represented Satan himself. If he had feared for his life before, that fear was now multiplied ten full.

The blond man standing over him poked at him hard with a gloved finger. "Hey, mutie," he said, "are you awake?"

Remy glared back at him with all the hate he could manage, given the state he was in. The man seemed to get the message and snickered. "Yeah, he's awake, sir. Probably eager for visitors, too." He spoke in to some kind of communicator in his watch, eerily similar to the one Remy himself uses with the X- Men. The only difference appeared to be that he wore an earpiece to hear the response. He wondered briefly who the man was talking to, but there was a much more important thing to find out.

"Where..." he managed, "where...is she?" The words burned in his throat like fire, but he got them out.

The blond man looked confused for a second, but slowly a maniacal smile crossed his face. "You mean the pregnant broad?" He asked, leaning over him. He was so close that Remy could see his nose hair, and smell the unpleasant scent of stale coffee on his breath. "Oh, don't worry 'bout her. We got big plans for that mutie bitch." He laughed as he watched his prisoner struggle futilely against the straps. "What's the matter, scum?" He taunted. "Don't like me talkin' 'bout your mutie whore, huh?"

For a second, Remy felt the pain that coursed through him cease, and was replaced by blinding fury. "Go fuck yourself, you sadistic bastard," he muttered, ignoring how painful it was to talk. And because he couldn't think of anything else bad enough to call the man, he spat in his eye.

The F.O.H soldier's face turned red with anger, and with his teeth gritted, he raised his fist. Remy closed his eyes, realizing that this guy could kill him if he really wanted to, as he was all but defenseless lying there strapped to a board, but even if he was killed, it would be worth it. No one talked about Stormy like that.

Instead of feeling the sharp sting of the man's fist, however, he heard a swishing sound as the door opened. Although Remy couldn't see who walked in, the voice sounded oddly familiar as it said, "What's the matter, Albers? Is the mutant bothering you?"

The soldier, Albers, apparently, turned to face the man, lowering his hand as he did. "No, sir," he insisted, "I don't let scum like this bother me."

The man snickered loudly. "That's good to hear, Albers. Because I remember giving you strict instructions not to lay a finger on him. Now, did I or didn't I say that?"

Remy watched as Albers lowered his head, although more out of anger than shame. He glanced at him, eyes slivers of hate. "You did, sir." Remy grinned at his rebuke, hoping to further piss him off. However, the second man, obviously in charge, ordered Albers out of the room, and he left without another word being said.

As soon as the door swished shut, the man walked over to where Remy could see him. Unlike Albers, this man wore a suit rather than a uniform, although still in the black and red colors associated with the F.O.H. The expensive black suit and shirt, along with the silk tie the color of blood, made Remy think of his own eyes. He shuddered at the thought that they were the same demonic colors as the ones associated with this vulgar organization.

Besides the suit, the next thing he noticed was the man's slicked-back brown hair, prominent Roman nose, and heavy eyebrows. He looked like a normal, everyday guy, except for his eyes. They were green, but an unusual shade, like a wild animal, and it made him look like a rabid dog. Again, Remy shuddered. For his money, this man, Greydon Creed, was a rabid dog. Creed grinned at him, reveling in his discomfort. "Well, Mr. LeBeau, I want to welcome you to the headquarters of the F.O.H."

Remy winced at the sound of his own name. The thought of Greydon Creed knowing who he was terrified him, but he knew that he had to remain calm. Not only for his own sake, but for Storm's as well. "Why'd you kidnap us, Creed?"

"I prefer to think of it as relocation for the good of humanity."

Remy snorted rudely. "Where's Ororo?"

Creed walked over until he was standing directly over him. "Enough questions from you. Now, you may have noticed the device that is around your neck." He paused, and took a small box out of his pocket, and pressed a button. Remy felt the strap that had been holding his head to the board release. He moved his neck around, but it didn't stop it from hurting any. Creed was right, there was something attached to his neck, and even though he couldn't see it, it felt...familiar.

"This a Genoshan slave collar?" He asked. His mind flashed to the time when he and Storm had been held prisoner on an island called Genosha. The people had used these collars to restrict mutants from using their powers. Remy thought these horrific things had all been destroyed.

"Oh, this is much more then a Genoshan slave collar," Creed replied with an excited look in his eye, "much more. The old slave collars only allowed people to control mutants' powers. But these fascinating devices do much more than that."

Remy watched in horror as Creed pressed a red button, and the collar emitted a low buzzing sound. It started as a burning itch in the back of his throat, and gradually increased in intensity. He squirmed as much as the restraints allowed as what felt like scissors started cutting at his windpipe. He tried to scream, but the pain crept down into his lungs like fire. He began to choke violently as his body screamed for oxygen, but the terrible slashing pain didn't stop. A repulsive taste of blood mixed with bile filled his chest, and his mind started to become immune to anything but the pain. It hurt so much that in fact, his mind couldn't even comprehend the pain. He sensed that blood was streaming out of his nose and mouth, but it was all he could do to keep consciousness. A horrible screeching noise filled the room, and at last Creed let go of the button. All at once, the pain stopped almost as quickly as it had began. The screeching sound stopped as well, and as fresh air filled his lungs and his senses returned to normal, Remy realized that the sound had been his own screaming. He was suddenly drenched with sweat, the front of his clothes now covered with his own blood and even though he couldn't see himself, he could smell its sickening scent. It made his skin cold and clammy, but he never thought he would be so relieved to feel the pain of metal restraints cutting into his skin. The pain from those was nothing compared to what he had just felt.

Creed laughed mercilessly, a horrible, gravelly sound that conveyed how much he reveled in the suffering of others. "And you know what the best part of these things is? They cannot be forcibly removed. The only way to get it off is with this key." He held up a small, silver key just long enough for Remy to get a good look at it. "Do you know what happens if you try to remove the collar without the key? It explodes, taking your head with it."

"If you gonna kill me, Creed," Remy panted, still struggling to breath after that demonstration, "jus' do it. But let 'Roro go."

Creed stopped laughing. "Who says I'm going to kill you? That little demonstration was merely for your benefit. As a matter of fact, if you cooperate, I fully intend to let both you and the woman go."

Remy didn't believe the man for a second, but he had enough sense to know that if he said so, he would only be subjected to more torture. "What you want from me then?"

Creed slipped the device that controlled the collar back into his pocket, and stared at the prisoner with those cold, unfeeling green eyes. "We've been watching you for some time now, Mr. LeBeau. A few months ago, one of my men was killed up in Canada. We know that a mutant did it, and we know you know who he is. We tracked him to Westchester, New York. Strange thing. That's where you live. And you two have been seen together in a bar in Alberta by one of my operatives," he narrowed his eyes contemptuously. "I know you know who this clawed mutie is."

Remy froze. Oh, God. Logan. I shoulda realized it. He said they was after him. Shit, I'm the one that made him come back. What had he gotten them into. "You wrong, Creed, I don't know anyone wit' claws."

"You lie! You've been seen with this clawed freak on more than one occasion. We staged that little rally a month back purely for his benefit, but he did not have courtesy to show up. That made us mad. Your little blond-haired friend received the punishment this clawed-guy should have gotten."

Bobby, he thought. They tried to kill him just because Logan wasn't at the rally? Bastards...Biting back his anger, he said, "What makes you so sure I know so much, hehn?" "Maybe I don't know as much as you think."

Creed snickered. "Oh, I believe you do. And I think you will give me what I need, given the proper persuasion."

"You underestimate me, Creed," Remy muttered.

"I think not," he replied. "After all, it was relatively easy to find you. All we had to do was 'persuade' the local bar owners to talk. However, this other mutant obviously keeps a lower profile then you. So unless you value a painful death, you will tell me all about him."

He does underestimate me. That could work to my advantage. "Sorry, Creed, I'm 'fraid I can't help you."

Creed actually smiled slightly. "Ah, the noble mutant. Loyal in the face of even the most hopeless of situations. I thought you would feel that way. That, of course, is why we have the woman. I figured that you alone would not talk, no matter what I did to you, but I also know that you would give anything to protect her and her unborn child."

Remy grimaced at what he was saying. "Don't hurt her, Creed. She's eight months pregnant, for God's Sakes! Even you must have a little humanity."

"I'll leave you to ponder that for awhile, Mr. LeBeau. I think that often the unknown can be a powerful persuasive element."

Before Remy could say anything, Creed turned and headed for the door.

"Goddamnit, Creed, if you hurt her, I'll make you pay! You'll regret it, I swear to God!" But it was too late, as Creed had already left.

Okay-I know it was really mean to do that to Gambit-forgive me. No flames because he's being tortured! You know there has to be a light at the end of the tunnel.