Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate everyone reading my fic! Enjoy...

In a little room directly behind the one where Remy and Ororo were being held captive, Sgts. Tom Albers and Martin Fox were on watch detail. Their only job was to keep an eye on the prisoners, and report immediately to their superior, Lt. Sanderson, or Creed himself, if need be, if anything happened. Truthfully, it was very boring.

"C'mon, Marty, are you in or out? You ain't gonna change your hand no matter how long you stare at it."

"Yeah, yeah," Marty Fox mumbled. "Okay, I call. Whatya got?" Grinning, Albers slapped down his cards, revealing four jacks. "Damn," Fox swore throwing down his hand of kings and sevens.

"Too bad," the blond haired Albers said, collecting his winnings. Still smiling, he looked up at his dismayed colleague. "Face it, Marty, you ain't lucky. Poker just isn't your thing."

"You may be better at cards, Tommy, but at least I'm not a little runt like you."

Albers and Fox glared at each other, and then busted out laughing. "Asshole," Albers said, still laughing. "You wanna play again?"

Before Fox could reply, however, he glanced at the television monitor that displayed everything going on in the mutants' room. "What in the...?" He mumbled. Poking Albers in the shoulder, he pointed at the screen.

"I know you can hear me!" Remy yelled from where he was restrained. "She's going into labor! Somebody better get the fuck in here, or they're bot' gonna die!"

Albers and Fox glanced at each other, not sure what to do. The mutant woman really did look like she was in a lot of pain. She screamed as if someone was stabbing her with a sharp knife. "Oh, God," she yelled. "The baby's coming! Remy, what do I do? I need a doctor!"

"Just hold on, Stormy," he said, trying to calm her. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." He turned back in the direction of the room. "Unless you want this baby to die, I suggest you get your asses in here!"

Fox rose from his seat, but Albers grabbed his arm. "Wait," he said, gripping it tightly. "It could be a trap."

Fox shook free. "But what if it's not? If that baby dies, Creed'll have our heads, Tom."

Albers frowned. He knew that was true. Creed was going to get a fortune for this kid, and if anything happened to it, well...furious wouldn't begin to describe how upset he would be. "Alright, alright," he said at last. "But watch your back, Marty. These muties are slick."

Fox took out his gun as Albers inserted his I.D. badge into the computerized door. It flashed from red to green as it unlocked, and the heavy metal door swished open.

"Thank God you guys are here!" Remy exclaimed as soon as the two soldiers walked in. "She's not doing too good."

Fox went immediately over to Storm. She was sweating, and panting heavily. He wasn't exactly sure what a woman in labor looked like, but this was pretty much how he would have imagined it. "The baby," Ororo moaned. "You...You're going to have to deliver it."

Fox backed up a step. "I ain't delivering a baby!" He turned to Tom Albers, who was holding his gun near Remy, just in case he tried anything. "You deliver it, Tom."

"Me?" He squeaked. "Hell no! I better go get Creed."

"No!" Storm exclaimed. "There...There's no time. It's coming, now! One of you better get down there and deliver my baby!"

"C'mon, Marty," Albers mumbled. "Just get down there and do it already. If anything happens to that kid, we're gonna be in deep shit. I'll go get help."

Fox grabbed his friend's arm, and pulled him back. "You aren't getting out of it that easily! The only reason you want me to do it is so it'll be my fault if something happens."

"Well, what do I know about babies?"

"At least as much as me." Fox paused, stricken by a momentary flash of genius. "Wait," he turned to Remy, and snatched Albers gun out of his hand. "Why don't we let the mutie do it?"

Albers turned to him as if the man had suddenly gone insane. "Are you crazy? He'll try and escape!"

"Oh, no he won't," Fox protested. "First of all, there's two of us, and one of him, and second, he wouldn't escape and leave his bitch behind."

"Will you please make up your minds?!" Storm screamed. "I don't care who does it, but someone better help me now!"

Albers sighed and frowned. "Okay," he said at last, pulling the key that unlocked the metal restraints out of his pocket. He took his gun back once again, and held it mere inches away from Remy's head. "If you try anything, mutie, I'll kill you first and then the woman."

The restraints unlocked, Remy rushed over to Ororo. "It gonna be alright, chere. I'm here." He turned to Albers. "You gonna have to unlock her, too, homme."

"Why?"

Remy give him a look. "You 'spect me to deliver this baby while she all locked up like that?"

"Okay, okay," Albers mumbled, grabbing the key. He dropped his head and lowered the gun for a mere second, but it was long enough for Remy to make his move and drop kick him square in the jaw. Tom Albers sputtered and immediately hit the ground, writhing in pain. A small pool of blood slowly leaked out of the man's mouth, and he clawed at his face, gagging as he choked on it.

Martin Fox watched his colleague fall, but it happened so quickly that he just stood there in shock. He stepped forward to attack, but it was more out of instinct than actual know-how, and he was no match for Remy. He easily blocked the soldier's weak punch, and grabbing Fox by the wrist, he swept his feet right out from underneath him. The man landed hard on his back, with the familiar 'crack' of bones braking going with him. Remy wasn't sure if his back had broken, but he really didn't care. Wasting no time, he swiped up both men's plasma guns, as well as the key that unlocked the restraints.

Storm, who of course was not in labor, breathed a sigh of relief that Remy was okay. He unlocked her, and she stood up with his help. "Thank the Goddess you're alright. Those men could have killed you."

"Nah," he replied. "Thanks to your excellent acting job, and these two morons, it was in the bag. But we got a harder job now, chere. I gotta get to Creed, and then we gotta a figure a way outta here."

"Why do you have to find Creed? Can't we just try to get out unseen?"

Remy shook his head, "He's got the key to these collars. He said if you try to remove it without the key, it'll explode. 'Course, he could be lying, but that ain't a chance I'm willing to take."

"But how will you get to him without being caught?"

"I'll show you." He grabbed the unconscious body of Martin Fox, and with Ororo watching in awe, he stripped off his uniform, and put it on himself. The uniform's thick black jacket had a high collar, and he buttoned it all the way up, in order to hide his neck as much as possible. Luckily, Martin Fox didn't look all the different from Remy; they were similar in height and build, and hair color for the matter, although Fox's was much shorter. There was even a beat-up pair of sunglasses in the man's shirt pocket to cover his eyes, which would obviously give him away. The last thing he put on was the F.O.H. cap, and he tucked his hair up in it the best he could. "Well," he said, grinning, "how do I look?"

Storm frowned. "Remy, I don't know if this will work. Why don't we just try to escape together now? Maybe Hank can figure out a way to get these things off without the key."

Remy dragged the unconscious body of Martin Fox over next to one of the metal tables and handcuffed him through one of the metal straps, and then to the writhing body of Tom Albers. "But what if he can't Stormy? Face it, I don't have a choice. I have to get that key."

"You'll never make it, asshole," Albers mumbled, still clutching at his face. "They'll catch you and kill you both, your freak baby, too."

"Shuttup, fool," Remy replied. Taking out his stolen gun, he pistol whipped the man straight across the head. Albers squealed, but fell silent. "Tol' ya you were gonna regret that big mouth of yours, homme."

Storm grabbed her friend's arm. "Please, Remy, there has to be another way. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you."

"And I'll never forgive myself if I can't you outta here safely, without that collar, chere." He handed her one of the plasma guns. "Here, take this. If those two wake up, or if anyone comes in that door, shoot 'em."

Her hand was noticeably shaking as she took the weapon. Remy could not remember a time when he had seen her so scared. She had always been the rock, the one that remained calm and rational even in the most desperate of circumstances. He took her other hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I promise, Stormy. It gonna be okay. We gonna get outta here. I ain't gonna let you down."

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Just promise me you'll be careful," she whispered in his ear. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

He smiled and patted her cheek. "Gambit don't get caught, chere, or killed. I be back."

Straightening his sunglasses, he inserted the stolen key card in the slot, and the door opened. Stepping out into the hallway, he let all traces of nervousness and worrying leave his mind. If he was going to do this, he would have to be at the top of his game. He had to get into his familiar thief's mindset, and concentrate on the mission at hand, and nothing else.

The hall of the F.O.H. compound looked curiously similar to the room where he and Ororo had been held prisoner. The walls were painted hospital white, the floors plain linoleum, and the doors heavy steel. The first thing he noticed was that all the rooms and doors looked the same. Besides all of them being made of pressurized steel, they all had the same key card locks, but no numbers or identifying marks of any kind. Remy briefly wondered, as he walked slowly down the hall, how these people could tell the rooms apart.

He walked as quietly, but yet as naturally as he could manage, trying to just take in the layout of the building, and figure out in his mind where the most likely place for Creed's office as well as the exits to be. The next thing he noticed after the identical doors was that there was no one around. It was fairly obvious that this compound was big, and must have a lot of F.O.H. soldiers in it, yet he hadn't seen anyone. Something must be going on.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, he tried his stolen keycard in a random door, just to see what would happen. Just in case, he stayed out of sight as the door hissed open, but as he peaked around the corner, gun out and ready, he could plainly see that there was no one there. In fact, this room was a carbon copy of the one he'd been kept in, even down to the restraint board. It was the same in the next three rooms he tried.

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Remy thought, frowning. This had to be one of the strangest places he'd ever been in, and he had definitely been in some unusual places. What kind of headquarters for a huge organization like the Friends of Humanity would be completely empty? Maybe I oughta try the next floor...

As he was looking for a way up, however, he heard someone calling him. Not him exactly, but Martin Fox.

"Hey, Fox, is that you?" Someone shouted from behind him. Remy froze, but remained calm and natural. Slowly, he turned around, casually making sure that his hat and sunglasses were still in place. A short, heavyset man about the same age as he, was walking briskly toward him. He had a tanned complexion with dark, closely set eyes, but he looked perfectly common. Remy could tell from the insignia on his uniform that he was the same rank as Martin Fox, which was lucky. A superior officer would most likely know he wasn't who he was pretending to be. He managed a small grin, hoping this guy didn't look too close at him. Catching up to him, the man offered a hand. "Hey, you're Marty Fox, aren't you? I've been looking for you everywhere."

Remy took his hand, and shook it. "Well, you found me," he said, doing his best to imitate the real Fox's voice, and to lose all traces of his own accent. "And you are?"

"Jeff O'Connell," he replied. "Uh...if you don't mind me asking, what's with the sunglasses?"

Remy, keeping in character, grinned. "Got in a fight last night with my girlfriend. She tried to claw my eye out, the bitch. Anyway, s'a little sensitive to light today, and the glasses help."

"Damn," O'Connell whistled. "You'll have to tell me 'bout that sometime, man. But anyway, Lt. Sanderson sent me to get you so that you could go to the meeting in Albany. I thought you had watch duty with Tom Albers? I was on my way there to get you."

Remy thought fast, and spoke just as fast. He knew if he hesitated to long the guy would get suspicious. "Yeah, I did have duty. But apparently Sanderson wants me at this thing in Albany, so he called me on the com link and told me to get my ass over there. I don't know why he sent you." Of course, Remy hadn't a clue as to what meeting was going on in Albany or where he was supposed to report, or even who this Sanderson guy was, but he hoped that wouldn't matter. It did, he thought, possibly explain why there were so few people around if they were all at this meeting thing.

O'Connell shrugged. "Huh," he said, shrugging. "Who the Hell knows with Sanderson? The man's the reincarnation of Satan himself most of the time, as I'm sure you know. Anyway, it don't really matter, I guess. I found you anyway. Let's head over to the briefing room."

Remy followed the man to the end of the hall, where he preceded to slide his access card into a slot. He watched as the door opened, but instead of walking into a room, he was surprised to see that there was another hallway behind it. This one looked a little different, though, as these doors had numbers, and in some cases, words on them, such as 'Artillery,' and 'War Room.'

"So, what do you think about those muties Creed's got stashed here? The whole thing's messed up to me."

Remy wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. This place was messed up to him. "Yeah?" He asked. "Why?"

O'Connell shrugged. "It's not our style to hold these freaks here for days at a time. I know he wants the baby to sell to that scientist-or-doctor guy, whatever the Hell he is, but I mean...why doesn't he just cut it out, or something? Who cares if the bitch bleeds to death?" He laughed out loud. "It's not as if he's gonna keep'er around after she has the kid anyway."

God, but it took every restraint Remy had, and some he didn't know he had, not to break this guy's neck after hearing that. But he was used to hearing things he didn't like, and used to acting like what people said didn't bother him. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He replied, with a little snort of disgust. "But I guess Creed has his reasons."

The man nodded. "Who knows? So, Marty, you ever been on one of these mutie hunting trips before? It's my first one."

Remy frowned. What was he talking about? "Mutie hunting trips?"

"Yeah, you know, the 'meeting' in Albany. We're going to hunt down some more muties. The more we get rid of the better."

"Oh, yeah," Remy said. "Well, I guess it's my first trip, too."

"Uh-huh," O'Connell mumbled, but Remy could see that he was a little suspicious. He could have kicked himself for not pretending that he knew what the guy was talking about. But it was too late now for regrets. "Anyway, should be a lotta fun," he continued. "Especially because Statler's leading us instead of Sanderson. Hey, you and Barry Statler are pretty good friends aren't you? Must be relieved that he's going 'stead of that dick Sanderson."

"You can say that again, man," Remy said, nodding.

"I thought you'd agree," O'Connell muttered. Suddenly, out of no where it seemed, he grabbed Remy and shoved him against a door so hard he had the wind knocked out of him. Pinned between the soldier and the door, he found himself face- to-face with the man's plasma gun.

"What gives, man?" Remy gasped as soon as he could breath again. "What the Hell are you doing?"

Jeff O'Connell replied by cocking the gun. "Don't gimme that bullshit. You're not Marty Fox. Who the fuck are you?"

Remy squirmed. He knew he could easily break out of this guy's weak hold on him, but he had to be careful not to get himself shot. To by himself some time, he played innocent. As he carefully slipped his hand into his pants pocket, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm Martin Fox. Have you lost your mind?"

O'Connell pressed the weapon a little tighter to his temple. "I've never met Martin Fox before, so I'll admit just by looking at you, I would have never guessed that you were anyone else. But anyone who had been here longer than a few months would know that Lt. Barry Statler was killed up in Canada by some mutie. So, I ask you again. Either tell me who you are, or I blow your fuckin' brains out!"

Remy could see how mad the guy was, and that actually pleased him. But more importantly, he could see how nervous he was. That gave him the upper hand. So instead of pleading for his life, he smiled at Sgt. O'Connell. "The name's Gambit, homme, and I think that all you need to know." With that said, he shoved Fox's keycard into the slot, and the door he was trapped against swished open. Exactly as he expected, Remy fell backward, taking O'Connell with him. "What the...?" He yelled at the sudden move, and hit the ground hard. Remy took advantage of the situation, and swiped up the man's gun. O'Connell lunged at him, but he was a second to late. Remy rolled out of the way, and at the same time, whacked the soldier hard on the head with the butt of the pistol. Jeff O'Connell was immediately knocked unconscious, and he lay motionless slumped on the cold linoleum floor.

Remy immediately crawled over to the door, swiping his card to close it. Leaning against it, he took a few seconds to catch his breath. He wasn't sure what would have happened if the card had not opened the door, but thankfully he didn't have to worry about it. He saw that he was in some sort of storage closet. He wasn't sure if places like this had janitors, but with the buckets, mops, and cleaning chemicals, it looked as if someone did the cleaning. His head throbbed were he'd been slammed into the door, but the pain could hardly be considered more than a scratch after what he'd been subjected to the last 48 hours.

Making his way to his feet, Remy grabbed Jeff O'Connell's keycard and gun, and handcuffed the unconscious man to a pipe on a sink against the wall. Standing over him, he smirked. "Guess you won't be forgettin' the name Gambit, hehn? Maybe I oughta cut you open and let you bleed to death, like you wanted to do to Stormy." He settled for kicking Jeff O'Connell in the groin as hard as he could. It was not really satisfying, but he knew that he had to get going. Leaving the storage closet, he stashed O'Connell's gun and keycard in the first empty room he came to.

Remy continued through this hidden wing of the building, occasionally passing a soldier or two, but no one paid any attention to him. They all seemed to have places to go and things to do as they rushed by. The building, however, proved the real challenge for him. Because everything looked the same, he kept getting lost. No matter what direction he went, he kept ending up back in the middle of nowhere.

Finally, he stopped by a door that said 'Auditorium.' He found, however, that Martin Fox's keycard wouldn't open the door. "Damnit," he swore, slamming his fist against it in frustration. How the Hell was he supposed to get to Creed and then back to Ororo and out of there? He couldn't even find his way around. But suddenly out of no where, all the answers to his problems appeared before him.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing there?"

Remy spun around to see a young Hispanic-looking man standing behind him. Although when he got a better look at him, he realized that he was hardly more than a boy, rather than a man. From his rank insignia, Remy saw that he was only a private. Realizing that this kid might be able to help him, he played it cool.

"I was looking for you, private. Mr. Creed sent me to get you, and tell you that he wants you to go to the meeting in Albany."

The boy stepped back in surprise. Remy glanced at his keycard that was dangling from a belt loop. The writing on them was inordinately small, but because he had excellent eyesight, he was able to make out the name 'Christopher Vasquez' on it.

"Mr. Creed wants me to go to Albany?" His voice was sort of squeaky as he stared at Remy in surprise.

"You're Private Christopher Vasquez, aren't you?" Remy asked. The boy nodded. "Then you're the one he wants."

"I can't believe it," Vasquez said. "I never would have imagined he would let me go to a meeting after only a few months."

"Well, believe it. First, though, he wants to see you. Let's go."

Private Vasquez nodded enthusiastically, and headed down the opposite way Remy had gone. He didn't seem to wonder why Creed hadn't simply called on his com link to tell him to come, or for that matter, why Remy was wearing sunglasses inside as well as well as why his collar was buttoned all the way up. "I'm sorry I questioned what you were doing by the auditorium, sir. I've only been with the cause for a few months, and I really want to prove myself."

"No problem," Remy replied. "Good to see that you're alert and taking the job seriously. I have to say, though, you are the youngest soldier I've seen around here."

The boy frowned, but nodded. "Yes, sir. I just turned eighteen. I guess that's why I have to prove myself capable even more than the older guys. If you don't mind me asking, sir, how long have you been here?"

"Well, I've been here longer then I care to think about." Remy said, smiling at the fact that that was all too true. "And you don't have to call me 'sir.' I'm Marty Fox."

Shaking his hand, the boy said, "Christopher Vasquez, as you already know, but call me Chris." The two continued walking until they reached a door near the end of the hall marked 'Information Systems.' Chris inserted his card into it, and Remy discovered that it was actually an elevator. This place hadn't ceased to amaze him yet. The two stepped in, and Vasquez pressed the button for the third floor. "This is so exciting. I've wanted to go mutie hunting...I mean to a meeting...since the day I got here, Sgt. Fox."

"Yeah, I'm sure you have. Just call me Marty, though, Chris." God, but it infuriated him at what a place like this could do to an impressionable kid like him. It was all the more reason for him to succeed so something like that wouldn't happen to he and Ororo's baby.

Stepping off the elevator, Chris asked, "Why do you think Mr. Creed wants to see me before the mission, Marty?"

Remy shrugged, not bothering to think up a good lie. "Let's go find out."

The third floor of the compound had significantly more people around then the last one. Remy swallowed nervously, and avoided eye contact with anyone. He followed Private Vasquez, staying half a step behind him, but the boy didn't notice. He stopped after going past only a few doors, in front of one that was clearly marked 'Private.' Luckily, there were no guards outside. He began to feel a little more confident. This was the tough part, but he was too close to give up now. He took a deep breath, and said a silent prayer that he would be in there. Everything depended on it. Knocking on the door, he said, "Mr. Creed? Can we see you for a minute?"

There was a short pause, and then a rough reply. "Who is it?"

"Sgt. Fox and Pt. Vasquez, sir."

"Very well. Come in." The door opened automatically, obviously Creed controlled who came and went from inside, and Remy and Chris Vasquez entered the office. Remy took a split second to take in the particulars of the room, as it could be important. Greydon Creed didn't even look up from the desk he sat at when they walked in, which gave him the time to do it. There wasn't much else in the room, he was sort of surprised to see, but that, too was good.

"Well, what is it?" Creed mumbled impatiently, scribbling furiously at something on his desk.

This is it, Remy thought. It's now or never, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna fail Ororo like I did Bobby. Without wasting a second, he reached out and slammed his fist into the button that closed the door from the inside. With that damn collar he didn't have his mutant abilities of superhuman reflexes or accuracy, but there was nothing mutant about all the years he spent training first as a thief and then as an X-Man for situations like this.

The sound of the door hissing shut caused Creed to look up in surprise, but as he did, Remy already had the stolen plasma gun aimed squarely at his head. "Don't even think 'bout it," Remy said. "Get your hands up where I can see 'em, Creed."

Creed sat dumbfounded for a second, but the realization of what was going on must have hit him because he did what he was told. Greydon Creed was not the bravest of people. "How the Hell did you escape? What did you do to Albers and Fox?"

Remy didn't answer, but kept one eye on him as he swiped young Chris Vaquez's gun, and held it against his head. "You, down on the ground, hands in the air." Chris swallowed nervously, and Remy could see how much his knees were shaking. He felt a little sorry for the kid, who probably had no idea what was going on. Remy kept the gun just inches away from his head until he was laying face down on Creed's floor. "What's going on?" The boy sputtered from the ground. "Who are you?"

Ignoring the questions, he turned back to Creed. "You know what I want, Creed," he said. "Give it to me."

"You'll never get away," Creed replied instead. "My men will hunt you both down and slaughter you like animals."

Remy grabbed him by the shirt collar and cocked the pistol, an angry glare in his eye as he did. "I don't think so. Now, gimme the fuckin' key, Creed!" He could feel a slight burning in his hands, ever so faintly tinged with a pinkish glow. It had been years since his emotions had dictated his powers. With the collar on, however, a faint glow was all he was going to get. Remy couldn't remember feeling this angry in quite awhile.

Creed knew that the man would and could kill him if he decided to, and part of him considered not giving in just for the Hell of it. If he was going to die, then he should go down swinging. But his cowardly side told him that he still might have a chance of escaping this with his life, and that won out. "It's in my left pants pocket," he mumbled.

Remy didn't waste a second getting it, and unlocking the increasingly uncomfortable collar. He rubbed his neck a few times, but even with it off, it still hurt like Hell. Slipping the key in his pocket he said, "Alright, gimme the box, too." Creed silently handed over the device that he had used to torture Remy with for the last several days. Immediately, his pulse slowed and he felt more himself.

Once he had the device that controlled the collars, Remy seriously considered strapping it on Creed, and torturing him until Creed went insane from the pain. But in the end, he decided not to. He refused to sink to this man's level. Still, he knew the best way to keep Creed from ever using the contraption again. He snapped the collar in place around the man's neck, and just to satisfy his vengeful side, switched it on.

Creed swallowed nervously, but made no moves to stop him. "Are you going to kill me, LeBeau?"

Remy glared at him with all the hatred and disgust he could convey. "I haven't decided yet."

Glancing at the young Vasquez laying on the ground, he saw that the boy was watching him. He kept a straight face, bravely eying the man contemptuously, but Remy could see right through the false bravado. The kid was scared shitless, and he couldn't blame him. But because of all the pain he'd been put through, both physically and mentally in the last several days, Remy knew he couldn't stand anymore unless he was absolutely forced to.

"What are you waiting for, mutie?" Creed asked. "Come on, kill me. You know you want to. Do it, and my men will hunt you down until they kill you, and your bitch, and your bastard child."

Surprisingly, his words didn't even bother him much. What did he care what this man, no, this thing said about he and Storm and their baby? Slipping the small box into his own pocket, he said, "No, Creed, I ain't gonna kill you. Although believe me, you deserve to die. And I'll tell you something, I've killed people that didn't deserve to die nearly as much as you. But that would be letting you off too easy." Grabbing him by the arm, with the gun still pressed to his temple, Remy roughly shoved the man toward the closet on the opposite side of the room. "In there, and sit down."

Creed did as he was directed, and Remy took his handcuffs, and, looping them through a thick metal heating vent, left Creed stuck there in the closet. "What, are you just going to leave me here like this?" Creed asked, thrashing against the cuffs.

Remy went over to the man's desk, and rutted through it until he found what he was looking for. "Damn right I'm gonna leave you there. Would you rather I stuck you on hard board and strapped you down so tight that you could hardly breathe?"

At first, Creed didn't reply, but as Remy held up the roll of duct tape, Creed began to sputter. "You'll never make it out of here, freak. And when my men drag you back here, I will personally make you wish you'd never considered trying to escape. You'll be begging me to kill you, LeBeau! You'll..."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole." Remy silenced him by taping his mouth shut. "You talk too much." He grabbed Chris Vasquez by his wrists and, pulling him to his feet, used his own handcuffs on him. "I'll see you 'round, Creed," he said, flashing him a grin, and slamming the closet door shut.

"What are you gonna do with me?" Vasquez asked, struggling against the much bigger man. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Remy pulled him by the cuffs backward, knocking him off balance. "Not if you do exactly what I tell you, and stop squirming. Now, start walking." He directed the boy through the door, firing the gun at the control panel as he did, watching as blue sparks flew from it. They were one step closer to making it home.

Now, no flames for not having Remy kill Creed...I have something better in mind for him...