A/N; I have to plead forgiveness for some artistic licence in this chapter
(and some future ones probably). The fountain in Jackson Square is
completely of my invention as is the summer carnival in New Orleans, unless
there really is one in which case, it's a lucky guess! Enjoy!
Chapter.5.
Remy pushed open the front door roughly, not caring that it bashed loudly against the inside wall; the sound echoing in the cavernous space of the main reception area. With a deep scowl beset on his face; the blood red of his irises seeming to darken immeasurably, almost blending into the blacks, he headed straight up the main staircase practically in leaps and bounds. Taking three, sometimes four of the thickly carpeted steps at once. Ororo was not far behind as she came through the double doors that he'd left wide open. She didn't rush to catch up with him, nor had she said anything to him as they came back to the mansion; walking slightly disjointedly as they were with Ororo remaining a few yards behind. They'd looked like strangers going at the same pace; not being able to overtake but never making up the gap either. Silently she followed him up to the second floor. As she rounded the corner she just caught him going into his room; the door closing behind him with a slight muffled slam. She waited on the corner of the wide staircase for a moment, distracted by the sounds of people coming from downstairs. It sounded like the group that had gone into the town had come back early. Either that or the basket ball game had finished. Eventually the shrill sounds of laughter and playful jibes died down as the rec room door closed and the softly lit thoroughfares returned to a muted silence. When the noise had faded as rapidly as it had burst forth, Ororo made her way down the hallway to Remy's room. She didn't bother to knock; opening the door and shutting it behind her with care.
He didn't turn around as she came in because he'd known she would. Grimly, he carried on setting out his stuff; black combat pants, a plain and simple black T-shirt and a pair of mid shin length paramilitary boots. He knew it made him look like he was part of some hair-brained, crazy militia but they were inconspicuous and practical. That's all he cared about. And there wasn't an 'X' in sight. He could feel her ice blue eyes burning into him from where she was leant back against the door, her arms folded over her chest. The silence was thick; the only sound was of him walking about searching in draws for small thing and then going back to set them on the bed with his uniform.
"Non." He said, short and low to her rather unsubtle and unasked question as he crossed the room and yanked open his double wardrobe doors and reached in. He gave her a fleeting glance as he pulled out his long brown leather duster that had well worn patches at the elbow and on certain spots of the large collar and took it over to the bed. Opening it out almost flat he began to pick up the small paraphernalia that he'd taken from various locations in his room. Elaborately designed lock picks, miniature infra-red scanning devices and a number of other complicated looking metal contraptions, most of which could fit easily in the palm of the hand but had no obvious indications as to there uses. Remy concentrated placing them in secret pockets built into the lining of his coat as he heard Ororo moving across the room to stand by the still open wardrobe door. Her persistence in silence got to him more than if she'd argued with him about going it alone. As it was there was next to no hope of convincing her otherwise. With an exasperated sigh he suddenly straightened up and stopped what he was doing, turning to look at her with a disarming sly grin twitching at his lips; quirked at one particular end. "Non." He repeated, "Remy's doin' dis alone chere."
"You do not even know what it is Remy. You have no idea what they want." She said flatly now that she'd finally decided to speak.
"Exactement."
"That is not an argument." She responded, folding her arms again. He wasn't going to brush her off as easily as that. But he did ignore her and continued preparing himself for whatever eventuality might come his way. Even as he was doing this he was wondering to himself why. Why? Why? Why? He'd given them everything and all he'd got in return was their distain, their hatred, their rejection and after all the years of trying to untangle himself from their mess. Yet whenever they asked him he instinctively felt duty bound to help them. Like he'd mused earlier in the evening, New Orleans ran through his blood and the city was synonymous with the Guild in his eyes. The two could never be separated. He'd accepted the X-Men's help before but in this case, no. Not even Storm could induce him to let her come along. Though he might not have the choice, he thought to himself wryly. If there was something that Ororo Munroe didn't lack it was determination. Especially when it came to helping a friend.
"You can not face whatever is waiting for you alone."
"Why not?" He turned to face her, his strong chin jutting out almost proudly, "I've taken on Guild shit alone befo'e an' survived chere."
"Yes, but you---."
"But I what?" He said sharply, his chiselled features taking on a dark edge at the implications of what she was about to say.
But Ororo didn't back off or shy away from his posturing. Instead she told it to him as it was. "But you always had your powers then." She said, not holding back or feeling guilty. "Things might not run as smoothly as they have on prior occasions my friend."
Remy's fingers pressed into the small code breaker he had tucked into his lightly sweating palm; the smooth aluminium felt cold against it. He squeezed his hand tighter, an involuntary motion, making the precise corners of the object dig into the skin a little. Running his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth he threw it lightly onto the bed; the small article landing soundlessly onto the darker brown lining of his coat. "I got no choice 'Roro. Powers or non; I gotta go."
"There is always a choice Remy." She insisted quietly. All he did was cast her a sceptical look from beneath his brow. "You owe them nothing."
He sniffed indeterminately; he knew full well that she was right yet although she was a fellow thief at heart, she didn't understand the ties that bind in the Guild; whether they have disowned and used you or not. Not even her bond to Achmed could have been so strong. Loyalty, no matter what, was something he'd had drummed into him since he was old enough to understand such concepts, before even, to make sure it felt like second nature. That is what held the organisation together and it was a bind he could never shake off, it didn't matter how hard he tried. Ororo could never understand that, none of them could. To be loyal to an inherent dishonour didn't bode well with X-Men ethics. "You don' understand mah chere." He said; a note of dejection in his voice. He shook his head; a mass of his auburn fringe falling down to put his face in its shadow, making his right eye look entirely like a black ball. His low husk took on a plaintively guilty edge as he said, "Dere mah famille."
Ororo stepped away from the wardrobe, letting her arms fall to her side as she came forwards; her beautiful face at once understanding yet hard. "We are your family." Her look bored into him mercilessly. "You owe them--- nothing." She repeated; a complete conviction in the utterance of the final word. Never-the-less it was clear that he was going to New Orleans tonight, his stubborn mind was set and the only thing she could do was go with him. Her conscience wouldn't rest otherwise.
Remy shook his head again and raked his fringe back before taking up his T- shirt and combat pants from the bed. He walked quickly to his en-suite bathroom, next to the large wardrobe, passing Storm on the way without so much as a sideways glance. Ororo gave an expression of bitter annoyance once he was out of sight, the look breaking through the calmly set features she held for appearances sake. But it was only brief. It hadn't showed but it hurt her deeply to think that he still considered Jean-Luc's clan his family, perhaps over and above those at the mansion. Shaking the feeling off, she went over to the bed. Scanning casually over all the things laid out; immediately she noticed something odd about his Bo staff. She knew he had several but this one had something attached to its top; a small oblong, smooth with no outer entry points of any obvious kind. Intrigued, Ororo picked it up carefully. The ridged length of metal was compacted in at present, only a third of its potential size. Bringing it up to eye level, she narrowed her eyes slightly as she ran a finger along it. Nothing happened, so she turned it over, examining the solder joins where it had been welded on. But then she was distracted from her thoughtful examination as she heard scuffling from the bathroom and then turned to see Remy emerge in his quasi-military garb.
"What is this?" She asked, holding it up to show him what she was referring to. He smiled devilishly as he clapped eyes on his new gadget. Taking it from her hands he flicked the staff out wit a zinging snap and immediately it burst into life, crackling with a bright blue electrical current at the opposite end to the box. Then with equal flourish he whipped his hand in such a way as to pull the staff back in again and the electricity ceased as if it had never been; only leaving behind a slight static in the air.
"Hank." He said monosyllabically as he tossed it down onto the bed. Then he went and sat down on it, taking up his boots and pulling them quickly on. "See," he began as he reached down and started to buckle up the five straps that ran up the length of the shinning black boots; buckling them in tightly, "Remy's not so defenceless after all, is 'e now?"
Ororo pouted irritably; she took offence to the tone of his voice, letting her cool mask slip a fraction. "I was not implying that without your powers your---."
"I know exactly what yo' meant 'Roro." He said in such a way as to take any sting off his previous words whilst moving on to do up his second boot; the hem of his trousers tucked into them, billowing at their bottoms in true military style. "But it changes nuhddin."
He stood up and went to pick up his coat, but first retrieved the code- breaker that he'd thrown onto it before and sliding into yet another inside pocket. He wasn't all that sure he'd need even half of this stuff but it was better to be prepared. With a flamboyant whip, he whizzed the coat around and slipped into it like it were a second skin; the collar flapping high about his ears. "Yo' ain't comin'. Dat's final." But as soon as he said those words he caught the look of cold defiance on her face and knew that to say anything further would be to waste his breath. There was no finality in that 'final'. So instead he picked up his modified Bo staff and hooked it into the chunky belt of his combats that also had several utility pouches attached at various points around it. He huffed sardonically as he looked down at everything on him, all the little hidey-holes and secret pockets. "I feel like fuckin' Batman wit' all dis shit." Ororo brought an elegant hand to her mouth as she tired to stifle the laugh at his wry humour. "I don' know what yo' laughin' at petite," He said gamely as he headed for the door. He turned and walking backwards with two long fingers, one half covered by his black leather glove, the other not at all, jutting in her direction, and then joked, "'cause dat makes yo' Robin."
Ororo shook her head as she followed him and then offered with a rare attempt at humour on her part, "Surely, Batgirl would be a far more appropriate analogy."
* * *
Now that they were both primed and ready (Ororo having changed into something fairly similar and innocuous as Remy's get-up, black combats, a black vest top and leather jacket over the top, as the last thing she wanted was for Xavier to accuse her of dragging the reputation of the school into further question by going on a dubious 'mission' in her X- uniform) the pair made their way to the Professor's office at the back of the west wing. It was nearly ten o'clock now and all of the students had been sent to their dorms, whether they'd protested that they were old enough to stay up later or not. The only sound in the hallways came from their heavy boots, crushing on the thick carpet underfoot; swift, sure steps as they headed to see Xavier.
"Do yo' t'ink he'll let us?" Remy asked, glancing down at Ororo as they rushed on.
She made a gesture that dimpled her cheek on her left side. "I do not know, in the past maybe but," She paused, her forehead creasing slightly as if in dire thought, "we have to appreciate that the school has a very public image to maintain. Everybody recognises the X-planes these days. We have to be careful were we use them and what we use them for."
Remy didn't say anything in reply but he did scowl slightly. Rules and regulations. Quite frankly he was getting sick to the back teeth with them, never really having been on to abide by them himself. All this 'public image' malarkey didn't sit well with him at all. After living his entire life in the shadows, not just as a mutant or X-Man, but as a thief as well, all this 'exposure' made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Gambit was a man who liked to live between the veil of the outside world and the one that ran secretly abreast of it; never really being a part of either. He very much doubted that he would ever change now. Charles, Scott, Hank, Warren and Jean could have their press conferences, Mutant Rights luncheons and attend public seminars, but him? No, he liked the safety and security of the dark; the society in between societies. But which was he a part of nowadays? He couldn't be sure of the answer to that one anymore. Life was like dancing in limbo for him right now.
"Remy?"
Instantly, he snapped from his brooding and like he had a switch to control it his features lightened and became affable and roguish, like nothing in the world could bother him. He looked over at her expectantly as they reached the home straight towards the office. "What?"
Ororo was looking at him with a vague suspicion; the dark look had vanished now so all she could say was, "Nothing." But even that held the self-same note of suspicion as her eyes. "You know you do not have to do this." She said more as a warning than a friendly reminder of their earlier conversation, suspecting, rather hopefully that he was having second thoughts.
He came to a halt just before the door and just like that the affableness was gone and replaced with something much more sinister, emphasised by his dark eyes; a look that not many people saw, but Ororo had on numerous occasions, when the guard had come down and the charmers veneer had all but gone. "If you don' wanna do dis den jus' go back to de cosy life an' teach yaw kids." He didn't snap or raise his voice but it was infinitely more unsettling for that; carrying a deep growl through his drawl. But she knew better than to rise to the bait. "Remy can go wit' or wit'out yo' chere."
Ororo opened her mouth to defend her position but didn't get the chance as Professor Xavier's calm and measured voice cut through their thoughts as clear as a bell to deliver a message. # Are the two of you going to come in here---or are you going to stand outside arguing all evening?# They both sent each other hard looks before going into the office; Remy, in spite of his frame of mind not forgetting his chivalrous instinct, holding the door open for the Weather Witch to go through first. Ororo searched first at the desk, her eyes automatically shifting in that direction but he wasn't there. He was over at the fish tank to the left-hand side of the office; carefully tapping the side of a small tub of flaky food, letting the red and yellow waifs fall into the water, to which the ravenous cold blooded vertebrates responded with eager, greedy bites. Light splashing emanated from the otherwise still surface of the tropically warm water as they fed. The two came fully into the room; Remy shutting the door behind him. Eventually, Xavier turned around to face his former pupils, setting the round tub down on the table that stood at the side of the long, sparsely ornamented tank; its layer of white sand at its bottom almost luminous in the tank light.
"I see you are dressed to go somewhere?" He speculated knowingly as he leant lightly on his cane, held in his left hand.
"Yes." Ororo said firmly, "But we need to ask something of you first." Xavier's pale eye's flicked from one to the other and back again, finally settling on Remy who was stood slightly behind Storm. There was something in Charles demeanour that said he was waiting for the Cajun to ask. He didn't need to be a telepath to know whatever this was that it probably had more to do with Remy than it did Ororo. There was no anger in the thought or fatherly disapproval, just an intuitive knowledge of his closest and best. They were still his X-Men at the end of the day. Well, that's how he felt at any rate.
Remy stepped forwards, thinking that the request would bode better coming from him as it was for his need that they were asking. A times he could read Xavier like a book. "I---We---need t' borro' one o' de mini-jets." It irked him a little inside to ask, not when he was so use to just taking what he needed, when he needed it.
"What for?"
"Look, if it gone' be a problem, Remy can sort somet'in' else out." Ororo threw him a sharp look for being so quick to jump into the offensive but he didn't relent.
"We need to get to New Orleans. Tonight if possible." She said cordially, trying to head off any confrontation before it even got started. But with Remy in the mood he was in she feared it may be useless to even bother. She was beginning to notice that his blood was up at a moments warning these days; a change in persona that she was starting to find mildly alarming.
"Ah," Xavier made the sound in a very deliberate way, "The infamous Guild." He surmised; a not-out-of-place hint of amusement on his lips.
Charles had barely finished the sentence when Remy mumbled, almost under his breath, "Dis is a waste o' time." Then started for the door but stopped when Ororo called out;
"Wait Remy!" Then she turned to the Professor again, "It is probably nothing, but Remy needs to get down there as soon as possible and find out what is going on. I also thought it best that I accompany him."
"What about your classes Storm?"
She looked at him in the kind of disbelief that quickly turned reproachful; her earlier upset coming back to her, but now was not the time for discussing it. "I am sure we will be no longer than a day Charles." She tried her hardest to say the words civilly, shocked that he was being almost petty; her well worked control coming into practice once again. "Surely you or Jean can cover my classes until then."
"I'm sure we can, but we are running a school here, along much more traditional lines than we have ever before." He said in stern Headmaster mode, continuing, "We can not let personal dilemmas get in the way of the children's education---certainly not by matters which concern such disreputable organisations. For the sake of the school, we can no longer afford to be involved."
Remy got the message, he got it loud and clear. Internally he fumed, certain that Xavier would pick up the emotional residue of such a keen feeling, even if he wasn't reading his mind. Something inside him clicked into motion; it felt like this was the last straw and he could no longer help but vent his frustrations. "So what're yo' sayin' homme?---Hien?!" He spat; his drawl becoming thick and much more husky. He splayed his arms out wide in dramatic gesture, "Remy's not a mutant no more, an' he not one o' yaw precious teachin' staff. So what is 'e now? Nuhddin' but a no good, two bit t'ief?" His arms dropped back to his sides; the leather of his coat making a smacking sound as they hit his body.
"Remy stop, this is not helping matters." Storm tried to reason with him, calm yet stern, but he was having none of it. It was like everything he'd wanted to say but had only thought thus far was spewing forth in an uncharacteristic torrent of anger.
"No Stormy!" He shot at her and then faced the Professor again, "Dis needs sayin'." He cocked his head petulantly to the side, "I ain't nevah been de type o' X-Man yo' wan'ed at de school 'ave I Charlie-boy?" He took a couple of paces back and forth as if to work of the physical sensation of the anger that raged through him now that he'd really let rip. "I ain't repentant enough, is dat it? Or is jus' dat now Gambit's o' no use to de team, he don' need t' be at de mansion no more?"
So far Charles had bore all of this stoically, like he was letting him get it out of his system. But he would put up with being spoken to so harshly or to be so disrespected in his own house. "That is enough LeBeau." he said; warningly deceptive in his soft timbre. "You have to appreciate our position."
Finally Remy stood stock still; dark eyes fixed on the other man, his darker shade of auburn brows arching down so low they shielded the eyelids. He held Charles in that piercing lock with devilish orbs for what seemed an eternity before turning on his heal and leaving. But he didn't storm out like an adolescent in a 'hissy-fit', but moreover left with a dignified tread. As if to prove he wasn't running from anyone or anything. Ororo waited for a moment, almost numb at what was transpiring here. When had things become like this? Bringing herself together she started to leave.
"Ororo?"
She was facing out of the door when she stopped, her right hand gripping on the doorframe. Without looking behind her she said, with a note of dismay in her voice, "I thought we were here to help each other no matter what Charles---Remy is still an X-Man and if none of you are prepared to help him then I will have to---alone." With that she started out of the room, not looking back.
Charles closed his light eyes and sighed. He couldn't stop the sense of being a father failed from flooding over him. At times he felt himself a poor model, perhaps a little over stern for his own good. But when such great responsibility rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone, he had to think of the greater good. With another resigned sigh he walked slowly, with the aid of his cane back over to the fish tank.
* * *
They worked in complete silence as they entered their access codes and passwords into the mainframe of the computer system that guarded security in the hangar bay. Registering themselves down for one of the three mini X- jets that Xavier now possessed; hidden safely away in an underground hangar. There was no need to discuss it any further, their pact had become a silent one the moment they had walked out of there and taken it upon themselves to use the X-jet without Xavier actually having given them permission. He'd set his stall out and now they'd set theirs. If this was the way it had to be then...so be it.
The second set of plexy-glass doors that separated the computer booth, the final stage in the security procedure, from the actual steel hangar opened up with a slow mechanic grinding; sliding into the side of the thickly reinforced walls of the bay. They walked confidently over to the jet, not an ounce of doubt in their respective manners. As they came up to the left flank Storm pushed an 'X' shaped button on the side of the small, black two- passenger aircraft; the first one in a row of six in total. The steel framed glass dome on top opened up gradually, a hissing of compressed air accompanying it and two ladders lowered down. They came to about four foot from the floor before the mechanism ground to a halt and the pair had to haul themselves up to make up the shortfall. Ororo climbed into the pilot's seat whilst Gambit got into the one directly behind it. As they buckled themselves in with the various safety holsters, the metal clips jangling before snapping neatly into place, the glass dome began to descend back down. It made another hissing noise as it sealed them into its air locked cavity; shutting down tight.
"Ready?" Ororo asked as she began flicking several levers on the planes control panel as she placed the black rubber mask over her face as Remy did likewise.
"Oui chere."
"Then let us make a move." She said through the intercom as she pulled the central lever back towards her, her long legs either side of it. The full fury of the engine didn't kick in immediately as the plane pulled out of its parked position like a car, moving slowly forwards and into the central space of the large hangar. It had only recently been expanded to accommodate what could now constitute an X-fleet. With an ear spitting burst the two engines at the back erupted into fiery life; blinding yellow flame flowing from them. Within seconds the two X-Men were air born and off into the tepid, clear night, heading for New Orleans.
* * *
New Orleans, Louisiana, three hours later...
The streets were busy; bustling with noise, colour and life and this was a week before the summer carnival was due to start. It wasn't the infamous Mardi Gras, that wouldn't happen for a few months yet, but New Orleans was a town that loved nothing more than a good street party and this present hubbub was the start of one of many off season carnivals that happened throughout the year. The tourists had already arrived in droves and various kinds of music seemed to pulsate from every nook and cranny of the French Quarter as a myriad of languages assaulted the ears with their loud timbre and shrill intoxicated squeals. The party atmosphere was as thick and hot as the still August air as party boys honked and hollered at passing women who returned drunken affections with a lucidity that wouldn't have been found at any other place or any other time in the world as it was around these parts when a parade was immanent. The spice in the air made people relaxed and carefree; the Big Easy came into its own at moments such as these and Remy drank it in at his leisure.
It had been many years since he'd been here at carnival time and the beginnings of the scents, sights and sounds brought all sorts of memories flooding back like a refreshing dip in the ocean; some good, some bad, most X-rated. He smiled; that beautifully lop-sided smile that gave him the dark dimples down the sides of his mouth as he and Ororo waited at the corner of the magnificent Jackson Square, just on the edge of the throng of revellers. It was one thirty in the morning and the party showed no sign of slowing. Slowing? It had only just gotten started...
"Is it always like this?" Ororo asked; having to lean in over to Remy as they sat on the edge of a large fountain and shout the question into his ear as a car full of frat boys zoomed past them down the broad Decatur Street singing at the tops of their voices, some idiotic drinking song.
Remy smirked and his head jerked back a little with a short silent laugh. "Yo' jus' wait a week, den yo'll see what Nawlins is really like." He gave her a mischievous wink that had something of the lascivious in it, he couldn't help himself. "But it won't be a patch on de real Mardi chere."
"Hopefully we will be long gone by then."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing." She hadn't meant him to hear anyway in truth.
He laughed lightly, guessing the tone of her statement by her body language; ridged and a little too up-right. "What's wrong mah padnant? Hien?" He leant towards her, giving her an affectionate nudge with his shoulder. "Yo' not like a good party?"
"I enjoy a good party as much as the next woman Remy," She replied, a little twinkle sparking in her stunning blue eyes. Her lips produced a slow smile that hinted at something concealed beneath its surface. "Maybe I should take you to Tokyo and then we will see who the real 'firebug' is."
Remy wet his lips slightly, the heat making them sticky. He turned the top half of his body towards her, his manner relaxed and easy for the first time since they'd landed. "Is dat a challenge 'Ro?" He asked; his voice seductively low, holding her gaze steadily.
"Maybe."
"Den mebbe Remy'll take yo' up on it, girl." He reached over to her and clasped lightly at her chin, resting is thumb ever-so-lightly on her full bottom lip. His eyes flickered leisurely over her face before moving off to gaze over her right shoulder. What he saw there caused his pupils to dilate slightly, widening black holes in the red mire, as that wicked little smile of his widened. Taking his scarlet and ebonies back down to Ororo, he said, with a disarming softness, "Or mebbe yo' could jus' show Remy righ' now."
Ororo gave him a suspicious smile as he brushed his thumb on her lip before taking her face away from his hand and turning around to peer over her shoulder at what he'd seen that made his eyes light-up so. Immediately she uttered a short knowing laugh through closed lips as her gaze fell on a couple making-out across the other side of the fountain. They were so enraptured in each other, arms and legs mimicking octopuses, that it seemed to have escaped their attention that they were still in a public place; their actions nothing short of advanced foreplay.
Storm turned back to her companion and shook her head, giving a slight roll of her eyes. "Is there ever anything else on that mind of yours my friend?"
"What can I say chere?" He said over the sound of the crowd and roar of the rushing fountain as he leant back from her, placing a hand over his heart in mock modesty, "When Remy gets down 'ere---an' in de company of such beauty, if I may be so bold t' say---it does t'ings to 'is mind."
She laughed, "And what is your excuse for the rest of the time?" Her stomach fluttered a little as he fixed his eyes on her again and for a moment a certain look passed through them, mercifully brief. But as soon as it had come it disappeared, leaving her to believe that it had never been there at all. She turned away from him and stood up from the smooth stone edge of the huge fountain with its beautiful mermaid idol adorning its centre, surrounded by dolphins and lesser nymphs in rhapsodic dance, turning her attention to the mass. Crowds weren't her thing which is why Remy suggested they sit here on the perimeters plus it would make their task easier. When she'd asked what exactly that task was he'd given her non- committal look and then sat on the fountains edge, casually lighting yet another cigarette. They'd been here for an hour now, sat more or less in silence, not really conversing much until just now, idly watching the world go by to all outward appearances. Every now and then Ororo's mind drifted to the X-jet, hoping that where they'd concealed it out by the swamps would be safe. But Remy had assured her that whenever he'd 'borrowed' any of the X-jets in the past that was where he always stashed them. She'd asked how many times he'd taken jets without permission and he'd simply winked that mischievous wink and tapped the side of his nose a couple of times; the implication clear.
"What are we waiting for Remy?" She turned back around to face him, certain now that there was no sign of a dark flush in her cheeks that she had been positive had stained her cheeks moments ago, prompting her to move away from Remy's side. Though now she felt a little foolish for having reacted like that to what for him was simply standard behaviour. At times he seemed impervious to its affect.
Eventually he joined her, standing up, dropping the butt of his third cigarette to the ground and crushing it under foot as he stepped towards her. "Patience mah petite." He told her with a smile and ghosted the slightly bent fingers of his smoking hand over her cheek, filling her nostrils with the strong, heavy scent of tobacco. Unusually, the aroma made her smile; a reassurance falling over her like a warm wave.
Remy walked past her a couple of yards then, looking out into the crowds of people with a thief's sharp gaze, taking note of everyone and everything about him. He didn't look at all out of place; in fact both he and Ororo appeared to be nothing more than eccentric Goths, here for the festivities in their black combat gear, multi-buckled boots, leather coats and respectively odd eyes. There was something strange about feeling so at ease in such a public place. It made him realise it was one of the things he missed the most about being a part of this city; he had always fit in here, like hand in glove. His stomping ground, his island, he craved its hot, sultry hold. Turning in a slow circle, his red eyes roamed over the people, trees, cars, the banners and reams of create paper in the purple, green and gold colours of the true carnival hanging from anything that stuck out. The mighty Mississippi ran across the other side of Decatur in the distance, looking like a river of black liquid with white lights floating in it; one of the world-famous Riverboats pulled out of dock, gliding with its shallow bottom effortlessly along the great expanse of black and glittering velvet. Eventually they fell on the towering spires that shadowed the space. The centre piece of the square would not have looked at all out of place in the Black Forests of Bavaria with its tall spires and conical turrets.
Suddenly he spied a man coming along the pavement from the left, brown corduroy jacket, hands planted firmly in its deep pockets, a mass of liquorish curls falling about his pale and drawn face, cutting a purposeful swathe through the drunken, stumbling and jeering crowd. Narrowing his vision, he focused all of his attention, inclining his head to the side as he moved forwards slightly. In fact, Remy kept such a close eye on the man heading towards him that it sent a jolt of shock right through him when someone crashed into him from behind.
" Hey! Faire attention a! Idiot!" He called after the boy, slipping without thinking into French, but the little scamp shot off without a word and was soon swallowed up by the heaving throng, not giving Remy a chance to get a proper look at him. He muttered a Cajun profanity under his breath as his hand delved into both his pockets automatically, already aware of what he'd find there. The man with liquorish curls glanced up at him in passing but carried on without stopping. Remy turned, watching him go past before his attention went back to his pockets and just as he suspected, there was something in his left one that wasn't there before.
Ororo walked over to him as he pulled a small folded up slip of paper from his pocket; she looked back at the man and then forwards to where the boy had been. She had seen about of much of him as Remy had; that is to say nothing more than a blur of mousey hair and tatter denim rushing past like a lightening bolt.
"What is that?" She asked as he unfolded the paper. Something dropped out of it into his hand but with a swift movement his fingers closed over whatever it was and slipped it deftly back into his pocket. She didn't ask, instead coming closer to see what was on the rough edged piece of paper; their task apparently completed. There was no such thing as simple communication within the Guild. It appeared that it was all a bit 'cloak- and-danger'.
"See, dey want me, dey find me." He chided lightly for her lack of faith in his methods. His eyes flicked quickly over what was written before he spoke the words out loud. "Silver's Pawn Shop." He huffed as if amused, "No' very subtle, hien?" He muttered. Then as soon as he said it he looked over his shoulder to the left and the right as he took the red plastic throw-away lighter out of his cigarette packet and then set the slip of paper alight. The fire made remarkably swift work of it; the curled ashes floating to the ground like a desolate skeleton leaf, no wind present to scatter them on their way.
"Where is that?" She asked as she pulled her leather jacket up a little at the shoulders, lifting it from sticking to her skin. It was so humid that even she, mistress of the weather was feeling the sting somewhat.
"No' far," he said distractedly as he looked about him for the hundredth time. He didn't like it that that little sneak had been able to get to him like that, but then he thought wryly at least the Thieves were still training them just as good as back in the day. "It's a few blocks up---come on." Remy started into the thick of the crowd then, intending to make a short cut across the square, giving Ororo no choice but to brave her fear of confinement and crushes and head off after him.
* * *
A tiny bell tinkled pathetically as Remy pushed open the door to the pawn shop with its huge iron grates over it and its large display windows. They were windows and defences that said: you can look but you dare try to steel anything and I'll blow your fucking head off. The shop, which was fit to bursting with it collected booty, garnered from the misery of sad and desperate people, was empty of customers, open for this specific reason alone perhaps. Only a withered old man, perhaps in his late sixties with his thinning white hair combed over a sore and red scorched scalp, stood in his own little fortress set into the wall opposite the door.
Storm came in after Gambit, inadvertently letting the door fall shut noisily, setting the bell off into raptures once more and making the iron grating rattle. She looked up at the shop owner, ready to apologise but the words stuck in her throat when she noticed the gleam in the old man's eyes as he looked over at the pair. A shinning light of fear flickered through those worn grey orbs with their folds of skin hanging over and underneath them like rain heavy canopies. She looked in vague confusion over at Remy but he either hadn't noticed the brief flicker or didn't seem to think it was anything out of the ordinary as he approached the man, fortified in the iron grated box that was lined inside with bullet-proof glass.
Going into his left pocket, Remy retrieved whatever it was that had been concealed in the clandestine note. As he stood right before the old man's box, poker-straight with his six foot four frame towering over him, he suddenly laid his hand down flat under the 'mouse-hole' shaped opening in the glass and iron bars. The object in his palm banged against the glass counter as he put it down and slid it across, its high pitched noise indicating that it was a coin of some kind or a something metal at any rate.
"LeBeau." Remy said quietly and then murmured something in Cajun for the man's ears only; Ororo not quite being able to catch it, though over the years he had taught her a phase or two; mostly expletives admittedly. She looked at the shop keeper again and once more, there in his eyes and this time in his whole stance was that fear as he peered up at Remy, whose own features were set unusually hard, unforgiving almost.
"Wait one moment Monsieur." His voice trembled slightly as he disappeared out back, bumbling his way with some haste through the heavy door behind him.
Remy stood still, waiting patiently for him to return as Ororo ran her eyes over her badly lit surroundings; everything from guns to kid's bikes, gold necklaces to gas fires filled the shop. Not much of it looked worth much money though, but their original owners would still have to pay through the nose if they wanted any of it back; junk r not. After a few brief moments in complete silence save the noise of the ceiling fan whizzing around in its never-ending cycle, the old man reappeared with a large brass key in his hand. Without hesitation he handed the elaborately shaped length of metal over to Remy, slipping it through the almost hand sized opening and then gestured with his arm over to the wall on the right hand side of the shop. After this silent transaction, he appeared to shrink back from the front of the box.
"Merci." Remy said shortly, looking over at the wall he'd pointed to, which was as junk-laden as every other surface before returning his gaze back down to the man. He nodded and then started over towards the wall.
Ororo was already over that side of the small shop and it only took a couple of Remy's long-legged strides to join her. She watched him as he surveyed it, stepping close, his hands ghosting over the knick-knacks stacked on shelves in light exploration. His breathing was quite audible as he concentrated, almost heavy but converted quickly into a short sigh of triumph as his hands happened upon what he was looking for. Taking the key in his right hand he slipped it into what seemed to the casual eye just a black void next to a sealed glass case full of the more down market range of jewellery (the good stuff being kept in the box with the owner or out back in a safe). But there was the distinct sound of a lock being undone as the case started to come away from the wall. The secret door swung back slowly and without sound, revealing a long tunnel.
Ororo swallowed hard; the only visible sign that her heart was pounding like a jack-hammer. But she fought the fear down, her control of it much more certain than it had been in days gone by. Though it was still there and always would be, trapped in a dark corner of her mind.
Remy looked down the tunnel and then back at Ororo, "Yo' can wait 'ere chere, it no problem." He said quietly, as if he didn't want the old man to hear.
Ororo shook her head resolutely, "I am coming with you." She swallowed again but found her mouth dry, through the heat as much as her fear. "I will be fine." All the time her eyes fixed the black hole, only the first few yards of the corridor gaining any light from what meagre amount emanated from the shop.
"Den let's go." He made to enter before turning to her again with a smile, which had a more tender and comforting appeal than usual, "Don' worry girl-- -Remy's wit' yo'." Holding out his hand to her she took it unthinkingly, not letting pride get in the way as they stepped into the darkness.
-TBC-
What do you think? Feel free to let me know. All suggestions welcome!
Chapter.5.
Remy pushed open the front door roughly, not caring that it bashed loudly against the inside wall; the sound echoing in the cavernous space of the main reception area. With a deep scowl beset on his face; the blood red of his irises seeming to darken immeasurably, almost blending into the blacks, he headed straight up the main staircase practically in leaps and bounds. Taking three, sometimes four of the thickly carpeted steps at once. Ororo was not far behind as she came through the double doors that he'd left wide open. She didn't rush to catch up with him, nor had she said anything to him as they came back to the mansion; walking slightly disjointedly as they were with Ororo remaining a few yards behind. They'd looked like strangers going at the same pace; not being able to overtake but never making up the gap either. Silently she followed him up to the second floor. As she rounded the corner she just caught him going into his room; the door closing behind him with a slight muffled slam. She waited on the corner of the wide staircase for a moment, distracted by the sounds of people coming from downstairs. It sounded like the group that had gone into the town had come back early. Either that or the basket ball game had finished. Eventually the shrill sounds of laughter and playful jibes died down as the rec room door closed and the softly lit thoroughfares returned to a muted silence. When the noise had faded as rapidly as it had burst forth, Ororo made her way down the hallway to Remy's room. She didn't bother to knock; opening the door and shutting it behind her with care.
He didn't turn around as she came in because he'd known she would. Grimly, he carried on setting out his stuff; black combat pants, a plain and simple black T-shirt and a pair of mid shin length paramilitary boots. He knew it made him look like he was part of some hair-brained, crazy militia but they were inconspicuous and practical. That's all he cared about. And there wasn't an 'X' in sight. He could feel her ice blue eyes burning into him from where she was leant back against the door, her arms folded over her chest. The silence was thick; the only sound was of him walking about searching in draws for small thing and then going back to set them on the bed with his uniform.
"Non." He said, short and low to her rather unsubtle and unasked question as he crossed the room and yanked open his double wardrobe doors and reached in. He gave her a fleeting glance as he pulled out his long brown leather duster that had well worn patches at the elbow and on certain spots of the large collar and took it over to the bed. Opening it out almost flat he began to pick up the small paraphernalia that he'd taken from various locations in his room. Elaborately designed lock picks, miniature infra-red scanning devices and a number of other complicated looking metal contraptions, most of which could fit easily in the palm of the hand but had no obvious indications as to there uses. Remy concentrated placing them in secret pockets built into the lining of his coat as he heard Ororo moving across the room to stand by the still open wardrobe door. Her persistence in silence got to him more than if she'd argued with him about going it alone. As it was there was next to no hope of convincing her otherwise. With an exasperated sigh he suddenly straightened up and stopped what he was doing, turning to look at her with a disarming sly grin twitching at his lips; quirked at one particular end. "Non." He repeated, "Remy's doin' dis alone chere."
"You do not even know what it is Remy. You have no idea what they want." She said flatly now that she'd finally decided to speak.
"Exactement."
"That is not an argument." She responded, folding her arms again. He wasn't going to brush her off as easily as that. But he did ignore her and continued preparing himself for whatever eventuality might come his way. Even as he was doing this he was wondering to himself why. Why? Why? Why? He'd given them everything and all he'd got in return was their distain, their hatred, their rejection and after all the years of trying to untangle himself from their mess. Yet whenever they asked him he instinctively felt duty bound to help them. Like he'd mused earlier in the evening, New Orleans ran through his blood and the city was synonymous with the Guild in his eyes. The two could never be separated. He'd accepted the X-Men's help before but in this case, no. Not even Storm could induce him to let her come along. Though he might not have the choice, he thought to himself wryly. If there was something that Ororo Munroe didn't lack it was determination. Especially when it came to helping a friend.
"You can not face whatever is waiting for you alone."
"Why not?" He turned to face her, his strong chin jutting out almost proudly, "I've taken on Guild shit alone befo'e an' survived chere."
"Yes, but you---."
"But I what?" He said sharply, his chiselled features taking on a dark edge at the implications of what she was about to say.
But Ororo didn't back off or shy away from his posturing. Instead she told it to him as it was. "But you always had your powers then." She said, not holding back or feeling guilty. "Things might not run as smoothly as they have on prior occasions my friend."
Remy's fingers pressed into the small code breaker he had tucked into his lightly sweating palm; the smooth aluminium felt cold against it. He squeezed his hand tighter, an involuntary motion, making the precise corners of the object dig into the skin a little. Running his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth he threw it lightly onto the bed; the small article landing soundlessly onto the darker brown lining of his coat. "I got no choice 'Roro. Powers or non; I gotta go."
"There is always a choice Remy." She insisted quietly. All he did was cast her a sceptical look from beneath his brow. "You owe them nothing."
He sniffed indeterminately; he knew full well that she was right yet although she was a fellow thief at heart, she didn't understand the ties that bind in the Guild; whether they have disowned and used you or not. Not even her bond to Achmed could have been so strong. Loyalty, no matter what, was something he'd had drummed into him since he was old enough to understand such concepts, before even, to make sure it felt like second nature. That is what held the organisation together and it was a bind he could never shake off, it didn't matter how hard he tried. Ororo could never understand that, none of them could. To be loyal to an inherent dishonour didn't bode well with X-Men ethics. "You don' understand mah chere." He said; a note of dejection in his voice. He shook his head; a mass of his auburn fringe falling down to put his face in its shadow, making his right eye look entirely like a black ball. His low husk took on a plaintively guilty edge as he said, "Dere mah famille."
Ororo stepped away from the wardrobe, letting her arms fall to her side as she came forwards; her beautiful face at once understanding yet hard. "We are your family." Her look bored into him mercilessly. "You owe them--- nothing." She repeated; a complete conviction in the utterance of the final word. Never-the-less it was clear that he was going to New Orleans tonight, his stubborn mind was set and the only thing she could do was go with him. Her conscience wouldn't rest otherwise.
Remy shook his head again and raked his fringe back before taking up his T- shirt and combat pants from the bed. He walked quickly to his en-suite bathroom, next to the large wardrobe, passing Storm on the way without so much as a sideways glance. Ororo gave an expression of bitter annoyance once he was out of sight, the look breaking through the calmly set features she held for appearances sake. But it was only brief. It hadn't showed but it hurt her deeply to think that he still considered Jean-Luc's clan his family, perhaps over and above those at the mansion. Shaking the feeling off, she went over to the bed. Scanning casually over all the things laid out; immediately she noticed something odd about his Bo staff. She knew he had several but this one had something attached to its top; a small oblong, smooth with no outer entry points of any obvious kind. Intrigued, Ororo picked it up carefully. The ridged length of metal was compacted in at present, only a third of its potential size. Bringing it up to eye level, she narrowed her eyes slightly as she ran a finger along it. Nothing happened, so she turned it over, examining the solder joins where it had been welded on. But then she was distracted from her thoughtful examination as she heard scuffling from the bathroom and then turned to see Remy emerge in his quasi-military garb.
"What is this?" She asked, holding it up to show him what she was referring to. He smiled devilishly as he clapped eyes on his new gadget. Taking it from her hands he flicked the staff out wit a zinging snap and immediately it burst into life, crackling with a bright blue electrical current at the opposite end to the box. Then with equal flourish he whipped his hand in such a way as to pull the staff back in again and the electricity ceased as if it had never been; only leaving behind a slight static in the air.
"Hank." He said monosyllabically as he tossed it down onto the bed. Then he went and sat down on it, taking up his boots and pulling them quickly on. "See," he began as he reached down and started to buckle up the five straps that ran up the length of the shinning black boots; buckling them in tightly, "Remy's not so defenceless after all, is 'e now?"
Ororo pouted irritably; she took offence to the tone of his voice, letting her cool mask slip a fraction. "I was not implying that without your powers your---."
"I know exactly what yo' meant 'Roro." He said in such a way as to take any sting off his previous words whilst moving on to do up his second boot; the hem of his trousers tucked into them, billowing at their bottoms in true military style. "But it changes nuhddin."
He stood up and went to pick up his coat, but first retrieved the code- breaker that he'd thrown onto it before and sliding into yet another inside pocket. He wasn't all that sure he'd need even half of this stuff but it was better to be prepared. With a flamboyant whip, he whizzed the coat around and slipped into it like it were a second skin; the collar flapping high about his ears. "Yo' ain't comin'. Dat's final." But as soon as he said those words he caught the look of cold defiance on her face and knew that to say anything further would be to waste his breath. There was no finality in that 'final'. So instead he picked up his modified Bo staff and hooked it into the chunky belt of his combats that also had several utility pouches attached at various points around it. He huffed sardonically as he looked down at everything on him, all the little hidey-holes and secret pockets. "I feel like fuckin' Batman wit' all dis shit." Ororo brought an elegant hand to her mouth as she tired to stifle the laugh at his wry humour. "I don' know what yo' laughin' at petite," He said gamely as he headed for the door. He turned and walking backwards with two long fingers, one half covered by his black leather glove, the other not at all, jutting in her direction, and then joked, "'cause dat makes yo' Robin."
Ororo shook her head as she followed him and then offered with a rare attempt at humour on her part, "Surely, Batgirl would be a far more appropriate analogy."
* * *
Now that they were both primed and ready (Ororo having changed into something fairly similar and innocuous as Remy's get-up, black combats, a black vest top and leather jacket over the top, as the last thing she wanted was for Xavier to accuse her of dragging the reputation of the school into further question by going on a dubious 'mission' in her X- uniform) the pair made their way to the Professor's office at the back of the west wing. It was nearly ten o'clock now and all of the students had been sent to their dorms, whether they'd protested that they were old enough to stay up later or not. The only sound in the hallways came from their heavy boots, crushing on the thick carpet underfoot; swift, sure steps as they headed to see Xavier.
"Do yo' t'ink he'll let us?" Remy asked, glancing down at Ororo as they rushed on.
She made a gesture that dimpled her cheek on her left side. "I do not know, in the past maybe but," She paused, her forehead creasing slightly as if in dire thought, "we have to appreciate that the school has a very public image to maintain. Everybody recognises the X-planes these days. We have to be careful were we use them and what we use them for."
Remy didn't say anything in reply but he did scowl slightly. Rules and regulations. Quite frankly he was getting sick to the back teeth with them, never really having been on to abide by them himself. All this 'public image' malarkey didn't sit well with him at all. After living his entire life in the shadows, not just as a mutant or X-Man, but as a thief as well, all this 'exposure' made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Gambit was a man who liked to live between the veil of the outside world and the one that ran secretly abreast of it; never really being a part of either. He very much doubted that he would ever change now. Charles, Scott, Hank, Warren and Jean could have their press conferences, Mutant Rights luncheons and attend public seminars, but him? No, he liked the safety and security of the dark; the society in between societies. But which was he a part of nowadays? He couldn't be sure of the answer to that one anymore. Life was like dancing in limbo for him right now.
"Remy?"
Instantly, he snapped from his brooding and like he had a switch to control it his features lightened and became affable and roguish, like nothing in the world could bother him. He looked over at her expectantly as they reached the home straight towards the office. "What?"
Ororo was looking at him with a vague suspicion; the dark look had vanished now so all she could say was, "Nothing." But even that held the self-same note of suspicion as her eyes. "You know you do not have to do this." She said more as a warning than a friendly reminder of their earlier conversation, suspecting, rather hopefully that he was having second thoughts.
He came to a halt just before the door and just like that the affableness was gone and replaced with something much more sinister, emphasised by his dark eyes; a look that not many people saw, but Ororo had on numerous occasions, when the guard had come down and the charmers veneer had all but gone. "If you don' wanna do dis den jus' go back to de cosy life an' teach yaw kids." He didn't snap or raise his voice but it was infinitely more unsettling for that; carrying a deep growl through his drawl. But she knew better than to rise to the bait. "Remy can go wit' or wit'out yo' chere."
Ororo opened her mouth to defend her position but didn't get the chance as Professor Xavier's calm and measured voice cut through their thoughts as clear as a bell to deliver a message. # Are the two of you going to come in here---or are you going to stand outside arguing all evening?# They both sent each other hard looks before going into the office; Remy, in spite of his frame of mind not forgetting his chivalrous instinct, holding the door open for the Weather Witch to go through first. Ororo searched first at the desk, her eyes automatically shifting in that direction but he wasn't there. He was over at the fish tank to the left-hand side of the office; carefully tapping the side of a small tub of flaky food, letting the red and yellow waifs fall into the water, to which the ravenous cold blooded vertebrates responded with eager, greedy bites. Light splashing emanated from the otherwise still surface of the tropically warm water as they fed. The two came fully into the room; Remy shutting the door behind him. Eventually, Xavier turned around to face his former pupils, setting the round tub down on the table that stood at the side of the long, sparsely ornamented tank; its layer of white sand at its bottom almost luminous in the tank light.
"I see you are dressed to go somewhere?" He speculated knowingly as he leant lightly on his cane, held in his left hand.
"Yes." Ororo said firmly, "But we need to ask something of you first." Xavier's pale eye's flicked from one to the other and back again, finally settling on Remy who was stood slightly behind Storm. There was something in Charles demeanour that said he was waiting for the Cajun to ask. He didn't need to be a telepath to know whatever this was that it probably had more to do with Remy than it did Ororo. There was no anger in the thought or fatherly disapproval, just an intuitive knowledge of his closest and best. They were still his X-Men at the end of the day. Well, that's how he felt at any rate.
Remy stepped forwards, thinking that the request would bode better coming from him as it was for his need that they were asking. A times he could read Xavier like a book. "I---We---need t' borro' one o' de mini-jets." It irked him a little inside to ask, not when he was so use to just taking what he needed, when he needed it.
"What for?"
"Look, if it gone' be a problem, Remy can sort somet'in' else out." Ororo threw him a sharp look for being so quick to jump into the offensive but he didn't relent.
"We need to get to New Orleans. Tonight if possible." She said cordially, trying to head off any confrontation before it even got started. But with Remy in the mood he was in she feared it may be useless to even bother. She was beginning to notice that his blood was up at a moments warning these days; a change in persona that she was starting to find mildly alarming.
"Ah," Xavier made the sound in a very deliberate way, "The infamous Guild." He surmised; a not-out-of-place hint of amusement on his lips.
Charles had barely finished the sentence when Remy mumbled, almost under his breath, "Dis is a waste o' time." Then started for the door but stopped when Ororo called out;
"Wait Remy!" Then she turned to the Professor again, "It is probably nothing, but Remy needs to get down there as soon as possible and find out what is going on. I also thought it best that I accompany him."
"What about your classes Storm?"
She looked at him in the kind of disbelief that quickly turned reproachful; her earlier upset coming back to her, but now was not the time for discussing it. "I am sure we will be no longer than a day Charles." She tried her hardest to say the words civilly, shocked that he was being almost petty; her well worked control coming into practice once again. "Surely you or Jean can cover my classes until then."
"I'm sure we can, but we are running a school here, along much more traditional lines than we have ever before." He said in stern Headmaster mode, continuing, "We can not let personal dilemmas get in the way of the children's education---certainly not by matters which concern such disreputable organisations. For the sake of the school, we can no longer afford to be involved."
Remy got the message, he got it loud and clear. Internally he fumed, certain that Xavier would pick up the emotional residue of such a keen feeling, even if he wasn't reading his mind. Something inside him clicked into motion; it felt like this was the last straw and he could no longer help but vent his frustrations. "So what're yo' sayin' homme?---Hien?!" He spat; his drawl becoming thick and much more husky. He splayed his arms out wide in dramatic gesture, "Remy's not a mutant no more, an' he not one o' yaw precious teachin' staff. So what is 'e now? Nuhddin' but a no good, two bit t'ief?" His arms dropped back to his sides; the leather of his coat making a smacking sound as they hit his body.
"Remy stop, this is not helping matters." Storm tried to reason with him, calm yet stern, but he was having none of it. It was like everything he'd wanted to say but had only thought thus far was spewing forth in an uncharacteristic torrent of anger.
"No Stormy!" He shot at her and then faced the Professor again, "Dis needs sayin'." He cocked his head petulantly to the side, "I ain't nevah been de type o' X-Man yo' wan'ed at de school 'ave I Charlie-boy?" He took a couple of paces back and forth as if to work of the physical sensation of the anger that raged through him now that he'd really let rip. "I ain't repentant enough, is dat it? Or is jus' dat now Gambit's o' no use to de team, he don' need t' be at de mansion no more?"
So far Charles had bore all of this stoically, like he was letting him get it out of his system. But he would put up with being spoken to so harshly or to be so disrespected in his own house. "That is enough LeBeau." he said; warningly deceptive in his soft timbre. "You have to appreciate our position."
Finally Remy stood stock still; dark eyes fixed on the other man, his darker shade of auburn brows arching down so low they shielded the eyelids. He held Charles in that piercing lock with devilish orbs for what seemed an eternity before turning on his heal and leaving. But he didn't storm out like an adolescent in a 'hissy-fit', but moreover left with a dignified tread. As if to prove he wasn't running from anyone or anything. Ororo waited for a moment, almost numb at what was transpiring here. When had things become like this? Bringing herself together she started to leave.
"Ororo?"
She was facing out of the door when she stopped, her right hand gripping on the doorframe. Without looking behind her she said, with a note of dismay in her voice, "I thought we were here to help each other no matter what Charles---Remy is still an X-Man and if none of you are prepared to help him then I will have to---alone." With that she started out of the room, not looking back.
Charles closed his light eyes and sighed. He couldn't stop the sense of being a father failed from flooding over him. At times he felt himself a poor model, perhaps a little over stern for his own good. But when such great responsibility rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone, he had to think of the greater good. With another resigned sigh he walked slowly, with the aid of his cane back over to the fish tank.
* * *
They worked in complete silence as they entered their access codes and passwords into the mainframe of the computer system that guarded security in the hangar bay. Registering themselves down for one of the three mini X- jets that Xavier now possessed; hidden safely away in an underground hangar. There was no need to discuss it any further, their pact had become a silent one the moment they had walked out of there and taken it upon themselves to use the X-jet without Xavier actually having given them permission. He'd set his stall out and now they'd set theirs. If this was the way it had to be then...so be it.
The second set of plexy-glass doors that separated the computer booth, the final stage in the security procedure, from the actual steel hangar opened up with a slow mechanic grinding; sliding into the side of the thickly reinforced walls of the bay. They walked confidently over to the jet, not an ounce of doubt in their respective manners. As they came up to the left flank Storm pushed an 'X' shaped button on the side of the small, black two- passenger aircraft; the first one in a row of six in total. The steel framed glass dome on top opened up gradually, a hissing of compressed air accompanying it and two ladders lowered down. They came to about four foot from the floor before the mechanism ground to a halt and the pair had to haul themselves up to make up the shortfall. Ororo climbed into the pilot's seat whilst Gambit got into the one directly behind it. As they buckled themselves in with the various safety holsters, the metal clips jangling before snapping neatly into place, the glass dome began to descend back down. It made another hissing noise as it sealed them into its air locked cavity; shutting down tight.
"Ready?" Ororo asked as she began flicking several levers on the planes control panel as she placed the black rubber mask over her face as Remy did likewise.
"Oui chere."
"Then let us make a move." She said through the intercom as she pulled the central lever back towards her, her long legs either side of it. The full fury of the engine didn't kick in immediately as the plane pulled out of its parked position like a car, moving slowly forwards and into the central space of the large hangar. It had only recently been expanded to accommodate what could now constitute an X-fleet. With an ear spitting burst the two engines at the back erupted into fiery life; blinding yellow flame flowing from them. Within seconds the two X-Men were air born and off into the tepid, clear night, heading for New Orleans.
* * *
New Orleans, Louisiana, three hours later...
The streets were busy; bustling with noise, colour and life and this was a week before the summer carnival was due to start. It wasn't the infamous Mardi Gras, that wouldn't happen for a few months yet, but New Orleans was a town that loved nothing more than a good street party and this present hubbub was the start of one of many off season carnivals that happened throughout the year. The tourists had already arrived in droves and various kinds of music seemed to pulsate from every nook and cranny of the French Quarter as a myriad of languages assaulted the ears with their loud timbre and shrill intoxicated squeals. The party atmosphere was as thick and hot as the still August air as party boys honked and hollered at passing women who returned drunken affections with a lucidity that wouldn't have been found at any other place or any other time in the world as it was around these parts when a parade was immanent. The spice in the air made people relaxed and carefree; the Big Easy came into its own at moments such as these and Remy drank it in at his leisure.
It had been many years since he'd been here at carnival time and the beginnings of the scents, sights and sounds brought all sorts of memories flooding back like a refreshing dip in the ocean; some good, some bad, most X-rated. He smiled; that beautifully lop-sided smile that gave him the dark dimples down the sides of his mouth as he and Ororo waited at the corner of the magnificent Jackson Square, just on the edge of the throng of revellers. It was one thirty in the morning and the party showed no sign of slowing. Slowing? It had only just gotten started...
"Is it always like this?" Ororo asked; having to lean in over to Remy as they sat on the edge of a large fountain and shout the question into his ear as a car full of frat boys zoomed past them down the broad Decatur Street singing at the tops of their voices, some idiotic drinking song.
Remy smirked and his head jerked back a little with a short silent laugh. "Yo' jus' wait a week, den yo'll see what Nawlins is really like." He gave her a mischievous wink that had something of the lascivious in it, he couldn't help himself. "But it won't be a patch on de real Mardi chere."
"Hopefully we will be long gone by then."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing." She hadn't meant him to hear anyway in truth.
He laughed lightly, guessing the tone of her statement by her body language; ridged and a little too up-right. "What's wrong mah padnant? Hien?" He leant towards her, giving her an affectionate nudge with his shoulder. "Yo' not like a good party?"
"I enjoy a good party as much as the next woman Remy," She replied, a little twinkle sparking in her stunning blue eyes. Her lips produced a slow smile that hinted at something concealed beneath its surface. "Maybe I should take you to Tokyo and then we will see who the real 'firebug' is."
Remy wet his lips slightly, the heat making them sticky. He turned the top half of his body towards her, his manner relaxed and easy for the first time since they'd landed. "Is dat a challenge 'Ro?" He asked; his voice seductively low, holding her gaze steadily.
"Maybe."
"Den mebbe Remy'll take yo' up on it, girl." He reached over to her and clasped lightly at her chin, resting is thumb ever-so-lightly on her full bottom lip. His eyes flickered leisurely over her face before moving off to gaze over her right shoulder. What he saw there caused his pupils to dilate slightly, widening black holes in the red mire, as that wicked little smile of his widened. Taking his scarlet and ebonies back down to Ororo, he said, with a disarming softness, "Or mebbe yo' could jus' show Remy righ' now."
Ororo gave him a suspicious smile as he brushed his thumb on her lip before taking her face away from his hand and turning around to peer over her shoulder at what he'd seen that made his eyes light-up so. Immediately she uttered a short knowing laugh through closed lips as her gaze fell on a couple making-out across the other side of the fountain. They were so enraptured in each other, arms and legs mimicking octopuses, that it seemed to have escaped their attention that they were still in a public place; their actions nothing short of advanced foreplay.
Storm turned back to her companion and shook her head, giving a slight roll of her eyes. "Is there ever anything else on that mind of yours my friend?"
"What can I say chere?" He said over the sound of the crowd and roar of the rushing fountain as he leant back from her, placing a hand over his heart in mock modesty, "When Remy gets down 'ere---an' in de company of such beauty, if I may be so bold t' say---it does t'ings to 'is mind."
She laughed, "And what is your excuse for the rest of the time?" Her stomach fluttered a little as he fixed his eyes on her again and for a moment a certain look passed through them, mercifully brief. But as soon as it had come it disappeared, leaving her to believe that it had never been there at all. She turned away from him and stood up from the smooth stone edge of the huge fountain with its beautiful mermaid idol adorning its centre, surrounded by dolphins and lesser nymphs in rhapsodic dance, turning her attention to the mass. Crowds weren't her thing which is why Remy suggested they sit here on the perimeters plus it would make their task easier. When she'd asked what exactly that task was he'd given her non- committal look and then sat on the fountains edge, casually lighting yet another cigarette. They'd been here for an hour now, sat more or less in silence, not really conversing much until just now, idly watching the world go by to all outward appearances. Every now and then Ororo's mind drifted to the X-jet, hoping that where they'd concealed it out by the swamps would be safe. But Remy had assured her that whenever he'd 'borrowed' any of the X-jets in the past that was where he always stashed them. She'd asked how many times he'd taken jets without permission and he'd simply winked that mischievous wink and tapped the side of his nose a couple of times; the implication clear.
"What are we waiting for Remy?" She turned back around to face him, certain now that there was no sign of a dark flush in her cheeks that she had been positive had stained her cheeks moments ago, prompting her to move away from Remy's side. Though now she felt a little foolish for having reacted like that to what for him was simply standard behaviour. At times he seemed impervious to its affect.
Eventually he joined her, standing up, dropping the butt of his third cigarette to the ground and crushing it under foot as he stepped towards her. "Patience mah petite." He told her with a smile and ghosted the slightly bent fingers of his smoking hand over her cheek, filling her nostrils with the strong, heavy scent of tobacco. Unusually, the aroma made her smile; a reassurance falling over her like a warm wave.
Remy walked past her a couple of yards then, looking out into the crowds of people with a thief's sharp gaze, taking note of everyone and everything about him. He didn't look at all out of place; in fact both he and Ororo appeared to be nothing more than eccentric Goths, here for the festivities in their black combat gear, multi-buckled boots, leather coats and respectively odd eyes. There was something strange about feeling so at ease in such a public place. It made him realise it was one of the things he missed the most about being a part of this city; he had always fit in here, like hand in glove. His stomping ground, his island, he craved its hot, sultry hold. Turning in a slow circle, his red eyes roamed over the people, trees, cars, the banners and reams of create paper in the purple, green and gold colours of the true carnival hanging from anything that stuck out. The mighty Mississippi ran across the other side of Decatur in the distance, looking like a river of black liquid with white lights floating in it; one of the world-famous Riverboats pulled out of dock, gliding with its shallow bottom effortlessly along the great expanse of black and glittering velvet. Eventually they fell on the towering spires that shadowed the space. The centre piece of the square would not have looked at all out of place in the Black Forests of Bavaria with its tall spires and conical turrets.
Suddenly he spied a man coming along the pavement from the left, brown corduroy jacket, hands planted firmly in its deep pockets, a mass of liquorish curls falling about his pale and drawn face, cutting a purposeful swathe through the drunken, stumbling and jeering crowd. Narrowing his vision, he focused all of his attention, inclining his head to the side as he moved forwards slightly. In fact, Remy kept such a close eye on the man heading towards him that it sent a jolt of shock right through him when someone crashed into him from behind.
" Hey! Faire attention a! Idiot!" He called after the boy, slipping without thinking into French, but the little scamp shot off without a word and was soon swallowed up by the heaving throng, not giving Remy a chance to get a proper look at him. He muttered a Cajun profanity under his breath as his hand delved into both his pockets automatically, already aware of what he'd find there. The man with liquorish curls glanced up at him in passing but carried on without stopping. Remy turned, watching him go past before his attention went back to his pockets and just as he suspected, there was something in his left one that wasn't there before.
Ororo walked over to him as he pulled a small folded up slip of paper from his pocket; she looked back at the man and then forwards to where the boy had been. She had seen about of much of him as Remy had; that is to say nothing more than a blur of mousey hair and tatter denim rushing past like a lightening bolt.
"What is that?" She asked as he unfolded the paper. Something dropped out of it into his hand but with a swift movement his fingers closed over whatever it was and slipped it deftly back into his pocket. She didn't ask, instead coming closer to see what was on the rough edged piece of paper; their task apparently completed. There was no such thing as simple communication within the Guild. It appeared that it was all a bit 'cloak- and-danger'.
"See, dey want me, dey find me." He chided lightly for her lack of faith in his methods. His eyes flicked quickly over what was written before he spoke the words out loud. "Silver's Pawn Shop." He huffed as if amused, "No' very subtle, hien?" He muttered. Then as soon as he said it he looked over his shoulder to the left and the right as he took the red plastic throw-away lighter out of his cigarette packet and then set the slip of paper alight. The fire made remarkably swift work of it; the curled ashes floating to the ground like a desolate skeleton leaf, no wind present to scatter them on their way.
"Where is that?" She asked as she pulled her leather jacket up a little at the shoulders, lifting it from sticking to her skin. It was so humid that even she, mistress of the weather was feeling the sting somewhat.
"No' far," he said distractedly as he looked about him for the hundredth time. He didn't like it that that little sneak had been able to get to him like that, but then he thought wryly at least the Thieves were still training them just as good as back in the day. "It's a few blocks up---come on." Remy started into the thick of the crowd then, intending to make a short cut across the square, giving Ororo no choice but to brave her fear of confinement and crushes and head off after him.
* * *
A tiny bell tinkled pathetically as Remy pushed open the door to the pawn shop with its huge iron grates over it and its large display windows. They were windows and defences that said: you can look but you dare try to steel anything and I'll blow your fucking head off. The shop, which was fit to bursting with it collected booty, garnered from the misery of sad and desperate people, was empty of customers, open for this specific reason alone perhaps. Only a withered old man, perhaps in his late sixties with his thinning white hair combed over a sore and red scorched scalp, stood in his own little fortress set into the wall opposite the door.
Storm came in after Gambit, inadvertently letting the door fall shut noisily, setting the bell off into raptures once more and making the iron grating rattle. She looked up at the shop owner, ready to apologise but the words stuck in her throat when she noticed the gleam in the old man's eyes as he looked over at the pair. A shinning light of fear flickered through those worn grey orbs with their folds of skin hanging over and underneath them like rain heavy canopies. She looked in vague confusion over at Remy but he either hadn't noticed the brief flicker or didn't seem to think it was anything out of the ordinary as he approached the man, fortified in the iron grated box that was lined inside with bullet-proof glass.
Going into his left pocket, Remy retrieved whatever it was that had been concealed in the clandestine note. As he stood right before the old man's box, poker-straight with his six foot four frame towering over him, he suddenly laid his hand down flat under the 'mouse-hole' shaped opening in the glass and iron bars. The object in his palm banged against the glass counter as he put it down and slid it across, its high pitched noise indicating that it was a coin of some kind or a something metal at any rate.
"LeBeau." Remy said quietly and then murmured something in Cajun for the man's ears only; Ororo not quite being able to catch it, though over the years he had taught her a phase or two; mostly expletives admittedly. She looked at the shop keeper again and once more, there in his eyes and this time in his whole stance was that fear as he peered up at Remy, whose own features were set unusually hard, unforgiving almost.
"Wait one moment Monsieur." His voice trembled slightly as he disappeared out back, bumbling his way with some haste through the heavy door behind him.
Remy stood still, waiting patiently for him to return as Ororo ran her eyes over her badly lit surroundings; everything from guns to kid's bikes, gold necklaces to gas fires filled the shop. Not much of it looked worth much money though, but their original owners would still have to pay through the nose if they wanted any of it back; junk r not. After a few brief moments in complete silence save the noise of the ceiling fan whizzing around in its never-ending cycle, the old man reappeared with a large brass key in his hand. Without hesitation he handed the elaborately shaped length of metal over to Remy, slipping it through the almost hand sized opening and then gestured with his arm over to the wall on the right hand side of the shop. After this silent transaction, he appeared to shrink back from the front of the box.
"Merci." Remy said shortly, looking over at the wall he'd pointed to, which was as junk-laden as every other surface before returning his gaze back down to the man. He nodded and then started over towards the wall.
Ororo was already over that side of the small shop and it only took a couple of Remy's long-legged strides to join her. She watched him as he surveyed it, stepping close, his hands ghosting over the knick-knacks stacked on shelves in light exploration. His breathing was quite audible as he concentrated, almost heavy but converted quickly into a short sigh of triumph as his hands happened upon what he was looking for. Taking the key in his right hand he slipped it into what seemed to the casual eye just a black void next to a sealed glass case full of the more down market range of jewellery (the good stuff being kept in the box with the owner or out back in a safe). But there was the distinct sound of a lock being undone as the case started to come away from the wall. The secret door swung back slowly and without sound, revealing a long tunnel.
Ororo swallowed hard; the only visible sign that her heart was pounding like a jack-hammer. But she fought the fear down, her control of it much more certain than it had been in days gone by. Though it was still there and always would be, trapped in a dark corner of her mind.
Remy looked down the tunnel and then back at Ororo, "Yo' can wait 'ere chere, it no problem." He said quietly, as if he didn't want the old man to hear.
Ororo shook her head resolutely, "I am coming with you." She swallowed again but found her mouth dry, through the heat as much as her fear. "I will be fine." All the time her eyes fixed the black hole, only the first few yards of the corridor gaining any light from what meagre amount emanated from the shop.
"Den let's go." He made to enter before turning to her again with a smile, which had a more tender and comforting appeal than usual, "Don' worry girl-- -Remy's wit' yo'." Holding out his hand to her she took it unthinkingly, not letting pride get in the way as they stepped into the darkness.
-TBC-
What do you think? Feel free to let me know. All suggestions welcome!