OK! I HAVE UPDATED!!!!!!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE IT! I'm sure you are all fainting in shock right about now, as well. Believe me, when I finished this chapter, I just about fell out of my chair. So: Go. Read. Review. Demand faster updates. Magically make all my life disappear so I can have time to work on my stories. (Actually, the last one would be appreciated)
another note: wowies... the last time I looked at this files was well.... a long time ago. At least since I last posted.... O_O! I was depressed when I started writing this, and then for a while, had no inspiration, then was un-depressed, and now am depressed again for stuffs.... ayyyiiii.... *bangs head*
But first. The disclaimer *WAH!*:: I DO NOT own Marvel or the X-Men. I DO NOT own the universe. I DO NOT own Gambit. I DO own Tate. I DO own the story line. I DO NOT like flames. (But no one's sent one yet, so why even mention it?) ^_^
Now then, Lady Bugs and Germs, I present to you for your reading pleasure tonight:
__________Talkin' About A Girl____________
Logan caught up with Remy as he came in the doors of the mansion from school. He needed to get some information about Tate from him if he could. He hoped Remy was more open than Tate.
"Remy, got a minute?" "Eh, sure, mon amie, what can Remy do f'r y?"
"Tell me about Tate."
Remy sighed. "Remy be thinking dat's what da homme wanted to talk 'bout."
"So you'll talk?" He ran his hand through his brown hair, "Oui, Remy tell you what he can."
(Mens Wing, Logan's Room)
"Have a seat," Logan said, gesturing to a chair. Remy did so, taking out a deck of cards to keep his hands busy. Logan sat on the bed.
Remy spoke first, "So, where d'y want Remy to start, homme?"
"I'm going to guess that you can't–or won't tell me about Tate's life before she met you. I know you ain't her blood brother, so start when you first met her."
Remy fixed his strange eyes on Logan. He took a deep breath and began.
"Remy, he meet Tate in Naw'Leans, Remy guess.... about 15 months ago.... Remy, he wasn't no angel then, hardly is one now, he was stealin' a necklace from some rich lady's house......"
^ ~ Looks like de girl c'n take care of 'erself, Remy just be makin' his getaway now. ~
He started to back away from the now scared mob below him. The emotions of the people down there were too strong to shield himself from. Hate. Anger. Fear. Disgust. And now, Pain.
The ones who's ears weren't bleeding, had been cut by exploding glass. It might actually be fun to watch, if Remy wasn't in so much danger himself.
Once out of sight of the people below, Remy stood up and started walking to the back of the house. There was another large house right behind this one. He could easily jump the roof.
Then, a sound behind him. An emotion he couldn't quite name tickled his brain.
He whipped around, already bring out his deck of cards.
No one.
At least, that's what he thought at first.
He could see a movement from the corner of his eye to his left. A hand.... with claws.
Someone— the mutant girl? was actually climbing the brick wall.
Then he started to notice the emotion more... it was fatigue.
Suddenly, he felt nothing.
Remy ran forward and caught the girl by the wrist. Her body was slack. Unconscious.
Another second, she would have fallen to her death.
Remy pulled her up, laid her on the roof. She was breathing..... he got a good look at her then.
At first he had thought her skin was dark, but now he could see and feel it was fur. She had on what he could only guess was a robe. It was tattered, torn, faded.
~ De petite must'av been on de streets f'r long time now. ~
There was blood caked on her mouth. Someone must have hit her. Remy felt her for broken bones, didn't find any. But he was sure she was bruised badly.
He looked around desperate. He could make that jump alone. He couldn't make it holding on to someone.
He left her then, to see about the fire escape. He might not get down unnoticed, but it was better than nothing.
Again, something was tickling his brain.... the girl....?
He turned to look at her, and everything went red.
~ Guess de girly wasn't as unconscious as Remy thought. ~ He picked himself up and wiped the blood from his lip.
"Now, now, dat ain't no way to be thankin' somebody who jus' saved y' life, is it?" He grinned at her. But not for long. Her eyes were open now, and he could see.... nothing. No color.
She was crouched low, ready to pounce on him if he moved. He had a feeling those claws were sharp. ~ Heck, de girl jus' climbed up de wall wit' dem, 'course dey gonna be sharp! ~
"Leave now, and I will let you live."
Once again, Remy was startled. No girlish voice here. Her voice was rough, coming from the back of her troat. Sounding unused.
"Remy can't be doing dat, Chere. Dere's a lot of angry people down there dat want y' dead, Remy t'inks you better be coming wit' him to someplace safe, non?"
"Leave."
Remy gave up. There wasn't going to be any talking to this girl. She wasn't about to change her mind.
He sighed, "Remy d'not wan' have ta do dis, chere, but y' leave him no choice."
He pulled out five cards, charged them up only half way and tossed them behind her. She jumped forward when they exploded.
Remy winced. Too much charge. They had made more noise than he wanted. The family in the house might realize something by now. He had hoped to get her away from the edge of the roof. Leave no room for argument. Well, one down anyway.
"Come on, chere, we need to leave, before the people see us, you c'n leave after dat, Remy promise."
Again, he could just barely feel her emotions. Fear, indecision. Normally, these kinds of emotion are strong. Loud. Often causing headaches. But this one was different. Just a tickle of emotion. Refreshing, actually, after all the hate and rage from the 'normals' below.
Someone below them shouted something about the roof. They knew.
Remy didn't waste anymore time. "Ok then, y' c'n stay here an' let dem people down there kill y'. Remy's leaving." He turned his back to her and got ready to jump.
Just as he was about to jump, he heard the sound of ripping skin, and something came hurtling at high speed, straight for him.
Before Remy could react, the something grabbed him under his arms and he found himself flying over the houses he had previously been planning to jump over.
"What da..?" He twisted his head and his eyes widened in shock.
It was the girl. She had wings. He was still trying to catch his stomach when she told him to stop moving or she'd drop him.
Was it a warning or a threat?
"Where?"
"Eh?"
Exasperated, she repeated, "Where. Are. We. Going.?"
"North side of town, dere be people waitin' f'r Remy at de old church."
"Who?"
"Friends."
"Doesn't matter if they are friends. I asked who they were."
"Shouldn't y' be asking who Remy is?" Stomach caught up, brain in place, though still a little unnerved by the whole flying thing, his cocky attitude came back.
"You," she started quite plainly as if she were reading directly from a page in her hand, "Are a thief. You, are a mutant. You are annoying me. However, you did keep me from crushing my own skull. Therefore, I owe you. I owe it to you to get you out of there. After which, I will leave, and you shall continue your life as you have, without thought to whatever may happen to the stranger you meet while taking something precious to another."
"Deme people got the money to replace dat one necklace."
"Perhaps. Perhaps it was a family heirloom. No way to replace that."
"Well, perhaps Remy don' care much."
"Exactly. You don't care about them. You don't care about me. You probably don't care about your 'friends' I am taking you to. You care only about yourself. Keeping yourself out of the jails, and making sure no one knows you."
"You get this philosophical on de streets, chere?"
"Very good. When one has no one to talk to. No one to care for, or by. No rules but survival, you make your own rules and have many interesting conversations with yourself. You never know what you'll say next, but it's always interesting."
He looked up at her, no one else? That was different. Most kids traveled in groups.
"What, Remy?"
"How long y' been on the street?"
"You haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"I will drop you if I perceive a lie or trap. Who are your friends?"
"We jus' a ring of thieves, petite. Not'ing fancy,"
"Call me petite again, I'll gut you. 'A Ring of Thieves. Nothing Fancy', Sounds like something fancy to me. Strike one."
"Honest chere, we be just a bunch of thieves, all around the neighborhood."
At least THAT wasn't a lie. . . call it a sugar coating of the truth.
"You are a thief. And by profession, a liar. You make your business of other people's business, and can lie your way into any house. You are a ring of thieves around the neighborhood? New Orleans is a big neighborhood to be running around loose in. Strike two."
"Hey, Remy done answered your question, chere, now you answer Remy's question."
"I have been on the streets since the day I was born. Happy now?"
"Non. But Remy can understand a lil' better now."
"Yes. I'm sure you could lie your way right into my cold, dark, unused heart. Good luck finding it."
"Ya got a heart Cherie, ya jus' ain't been taught to use it."
"Again, do not lie to me, Remy. I–"
"Remy ain't lying dis time, chere. Y' wouldn't been cartin' Remy over de city if ya didn't have a heart. Dis Remy knows."
"I will drop you off a block from the church. Don't use it as a meeting place again. Not unless you are there to ask forgiveness for your sins."
"What, you religious?"
"No. But less people will harm someone when they know God is watching."
"So, you do believe in God then."
"We have to."
We. Not 'I'. We have to. Have to believe in something. Have to believe that there is something out there that keeps us from being road kill a few years sooner.
Remy himself was raised a Catholic, because his father, Papa LeBeau, was the ring lord of the Thieves Guild. And because Papa always said that you should pray.
Remy never quite understood that. Sure, he would pray that no one found him when he got in a tight jam... but his father still went to Mass every Saturday, Sunday, and Wednesday. Still said his Hail Mary's and Lord's Prayers. Counted the beads, and went to confessional almost twice a week. Perhaps he thought that by 'fessing up to his sins, he would be given a cooler spot in hell. Or a longer term in Purgatory, before he embraced the flames.
Remy, however, only went to Mass when he felt like it now. Which wasn't often.
Sure, he'd been to confessional.... let's see.... three years ago?
That would be a long time for both him and the Priest to sit through while Remy listed all his sins. He was doing the Priest a favor, really.
He still kept a Rosemary with him though. A talisman of sorts. Besides, if he were ever wounded, he wanted at least a chance of coming clean to the Lord before he died.
"Yea, chere we do."
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Sorry it's short. Wrote this a while ago, just now finishing the clean up on it. It's short, but at least you all now know I'm still alive. I no longer like the re-write I did of chapter one, but I'm not going to waste time on it right now. I'll get to work on the next chapter for now, and then maybe I'll look at chapter one again.
Life is not fair, I have never believed it to ever be fair. But at least sometimes we can even out the playing field.
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heh, I decided to talk to my adoring fans who hate me for not updating now. lol.
Ima Super Mute Ant: thanks for the compliment. Hope you stick around. I've got a lot of cool stuff coming up.
ZilentZombie: hehehehehe... doncha just love to hate me? ^_~
Daylight: I wish you had left an email or something. I hate when people don't leave a way to get in contact. Anywho.... *pulls on her black hood* Don't worry about the plothole. There isn't one. *nods* yes, just keep thinking that I'm crazy and don't know what I'm talking about. You'll see. ^_~
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welp, that's all for now. Imma work on the 6th chapter now. ^_^ I'm so unhappy I can write now, ain't that a shame?