Dark Side of the Moon
By: InnerFathoms
Setting: A few months post-'Ascension.'
Summary: The visions glimpsed in Apocalypse's mind by Professor Charlers Xavier start to become a reality on the evening of Rogue's eighteenth birthday. Dear friends are lost, new allies are gained, dreams are betrayed, and the advent of darker days draws near. For Bayville's mutant population, everything is changing and the lines in the sand are fading. As they face the darker depths of what it means to be different, the idealist known as Professor X comes to realize the fragility of his dream. Even the "greatest mind in the world" is powerless to stop the oncoming trials witnessed from a bleak future where his pupils are no longer the individuals he once believed them to be.
Discretions: An unnamed character from the comicverse makes his first appearance, an interlude to a major role in the plot. And also, even though Carol Danvers's powers are not mutant powers in the canon, for this story, let's consider her a mutant just like everyone else. Remember, the story may follow canon and comic material, but there will be plenty of twists and different takes on characters and plot arcs, to keep things original and interesting. Damocles, is a legend concerning a young man of the same name who switched places with the tyrant Dionysus, who he claimed was very fortunate with all his power and authority. However, near the end of a banquet meal, Damocles stopped enjoying this change of roles when he discovered a sharpened sword hanging above his head as he sat, held only by a horsehair. He immediately left behind all this fortune, not wanting to sit beneath the sword. This anecdote, known as The Sword of Damocles alludes to the insecurity of those holding great power and their fear of having it suddenly taken away, or, in general, any feelings of impending doom. Both Callisto (in the previous chapter) and Gambit (near the end of this chapter) make references to this allusion. The title is taken from this anecdote, representing certain mutants' feelings of insecurity and fear of what is to come in the nearing hours.
Pairings: Bobby/Jubilee, slight hints at Ray/Jubilee
Genre-Rating: Action, Adventure/Angst/Romance-Teen
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or their histories, as they are licensed to Marvel and I am not making any profits.
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Chapter IV: Damocles
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Raven Darkholme had always thrived on deception.
For a woman who could change her appearance with utter subtleness, one who could mimic another individual so meticulously that the one being impersonated would question their own identity, manipulation was an innate trait. She could become a living lie, deceiving all those who set their eyes upon her, disguised as anyone and almost anything. She was a woman who made you lose trust in your own senses, and once duped by the formidable Mystique, you would always think twice whenever someone you knew was acting out of the ordinary.
Deception was an art to the blue-skinned mutant, as natural as her shape-shifting prowess. She could be anyone, anywhere. Mystique hardly ever placed her trust in others; a mutant whose abilities epitomized the victimization of trust and identity, she considered it acceptable. One who knew deception well could also be well-guarded against it.
Still, sometimes trust was an advantage, a gambit made to raise the stakes and fuel personal motives. Whenever there was a goal in mind, trust was just another obstacle to overcome. And right now, Mystique felt like she'd cleared that hindrance, but she was never too sure to forego looking over her shoulder for the knife of betrayal.
In the darkness of the cargo storage, with a single temporary lamp hanging overhead to wash away some of the dark, the shape-shifter glanced down at her bloodstained hand-----a human hand draped with human blood.
A small smile curved upon her face, as she reveled in knocking such an arrogant human down a peg. Her instincts had been to kill him, but for what little uses he could be to the cause, Mystique had deemed it reasonable to warrant his reprieve.
At her feet, the blood pooling atop Duncan Matthews's abdomen was soaking his previously white tank top, mixing with the dried blood of Warren Worthington III. Mystique glanced towards the other end of the cargo to spot the crumpled figure lying on the edge of the light cast by the lamp. Stark white feathers littered the floor around him, while blood stained the floor beneath him. Though no crimson floe escaped the white of his wings from where the bullet had punctured his massive appendage, a nasty slash across his shoulder was the only bleeding wound. He was unconscious, harmless, and needed to be treated so that the wound would not become infected. Upon arriving at their destination, he would receive medical attention.
Though she didn't consider herself a loner, Mystique despised being subjected to others' authority. However, when one could provide means to achieve her desires, a little subservience could go a long way.
Across from Warren, the redhead telepath moaned.
Malicious intent arose inside Mystique and almost intoxicated her, but Jean Grey was a prized possession, more so than Warren and also Rogue, who wasn't even supposed to have been snatched in the first place. The night in Mexico was not forgotten, but Mystique's plot for revenge on the girl had soon grown frivolous and over-strung. She had more vendettas to entertain and other vengeances to secure, instead of the petty matters with Jean Grey.
Remembering her semi-conscious daughter, Mystique turned back towards Rogue, the smile still obscuring her features. "Play time's over," she said in a voice other than her own.
The look of fear, confusion, and horror in Rogue's eyes satisfied Mystique on a different level. Her craving for vengeance and her maternal instincts conflicted often lately, and for all the times she tried to justify her distaste of her daughter, she would realize that Rogue's resentment was a byproduct of her own agendas. Though it pained her to believe it, Mystique knew that her daughter had reason to reject her and any of her motherly advances.
As Rogue fainted, Mystique frowned. This was neither the time nor place to be getting sentimental. She hoped to find redemption with her daughter and salvage something of a relationship in the near future. As of the present, business was needed to be done. And quickly.
Shifting from her guise as Mayor Edward Kelly-----a simple ploy to entrust Matthews and his cronies the dirty work-----into her true blue-skinned, fiery red mane, Mystique checked on Jean to make sure that she was indeed unconscious. The girl was too powerful and too troubled to be allowed consciousness during the commute. Mystique injected her with a sedative, and then headed back towards Rogue.
Blood slicked her cheek, slightly coated her white bangs. Beneath the low-slung waistband of her jeans, a nasty bruise was forming beneath the soft tissues of her flesh. The shadows embellished her slender, vulnerable look, as if the darkness could all but swallow her in one gulp. She seemed more fragile than glass, easily breakable with the slightest misuse. But few people knew the actuality of looks being deceiving more than Mystique. For Rogue, her frail appearance would infinitely contradict her cast-iron toughness and bitter resilience. Her defenses were strong and supported by the numerous pains she'd wished to avoid, pains caused by isolation, uncertainty, and betrayal.
Mystique sighed irritably, hanging her head beneath the tiny hanging lamp.
"I'll make it up to you someday, Rogue," she declared in a whisper, growing agitated by the delay. After making sure the bindings were secure on all three mutants, Mystique stepped out of the cargo and closed the doors behind her. Beneath the moonlight glow, she hurried to the front hub of the truck, climbing in and starting the vehicle. With Jean, Warren, Rogue, and Duncan Matthews, all unconscious and injured, stored in the back of the truck, Mystique pulled out of the alleyway and onto 5th Street South, just down the street from the ruined restaurant, and headed for the Interstate.
The commute was less than ten minutes; she was hardly worried about her stowaways' injuries, as they would receive immediate attention upon reaching the labs.
On the outskirts of Bayville, its downtown district of lights disappearing into the dark horizon, Mystique skirted onto one of the ramp exits, taking the road around in a circular fashion before driving deeper into the surrounding woods on a less populated path. Her lights were the only ones cutting through the thick darkness, moonlight unable to penetrate the thickening forest.
By means of memory and estimated distance, Mystique veered off the path and to the right, finding a freshly cut pathway through the undergrowth and dense brush. The ground was rough and the ride was riddled with bounces and bumps; Mystique imagined the captives flopping around in back with unconscious animation.
With a final thump that resounded enough for Mystique to fear a blown tire or ripped undercarriage, the abandoned warehouse came into view, standing within a clearing and reaching towards the sky by a good three stories. Even in the darkness, slices of lunar light splattering its crumbling structure, the building looked desolate and unoccupied; a ghost of its former enterprise or factory self. Its discreet and well-concealed location, as well as its manageable underground level, combined together to form a suitable base of operations for nefarious acts. Anyone stumbling around the woods, for whatever strange reasons, would come upon a fractured and deserted warehouse, complete with furry inhabitants, waning structural support, and discarded boxes and crates. Ominous, in a paranoid sense, but empty and unusable nonetheless. Should any persons come looking for certain captives, they would find the same type of building; the underground laboratories, cells, and stations were not easily penetrated. Mystique had no idea where a forced entry could be made, as the subterranean level's ceiling was a solidified foundation to the aging warehouse and very resistance. Only a tiny platform elevator that rose out of the backend of the warehouse allowed passage to the lower level. It had to be activated from a control room beneath the ground level.
A lone figure stepped out into the clearing, tall and broad and hulking in the shadows. Mystique kicked open the door and slid out of the hub, her boots whistling as they touched the dewy grass. A breeze brought the loner's scent into Mystique's face, causing her to upturn her nose in disgust. The figure hardly seemed to care, walking past Mystique without a first glance.
"Be gentle," she admonished, following the figure to the corner of her eye as he passed by her. "They've already been inflicted with a number of injuries."
The figure growled his disapproval, though he seemed to comply. Mystique followed him to the rear of the truck, hopping into the cargo after he did.
His mind elsewhere, Sabretooth hardly noticed when he bumped his head against the hanging lamp. Slightly annoyed, Mystique rolled her eyes and followed the bestial mutant, opting to take Rogue in her own safe care. She wasn't about to trust that blundering behemoth with her weakened daughter.
Sabretooth flung both Warren and Jean over his shoulders, and stepped out of the cargo after Mystique carrying Rogue in her arms, this time ducking beneath the hanging lamp.
The duo crossed the clearing and stepped into the warehouse, moving beneath broken ceilings and ribbed structure beams, making their way through the hollow building. Upon reaching the final room, they waited as the ground trembled and the floor opened up to allow a tiny platform, about five-by-eight feet, to fully ascend. They stepped onto it, their footsteps echoing in a metallic hum, while Mystique tapped the button that would initiate their descent into the laboratories below.
As the mechanism engaged and the platform lower, the body in her arms stirred, and to Mystique's quiet dismay, Rogue's eyes fluttered open.
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In the amber glow of the mansion's library, "Watch it, mister!"
"What?"
Silence resumed, along with the flickering flames beyond the hearth of the fireplace, until, "Bobby!"
"What?" The question was repeated with same tone of mock innocence.
Jubilee turned and smacked the groping hands with her heavy textbook. "You said you'd help me with my Physics work, Bobby!"
"What'd ya think I'm doing? Just trying to get you to unwind, babe," he cooed, smirking deviously.
Melting a little, Jubilee managed a brief grin, and set her open textbook on the floor. "This was a ploy all along, wasn't it?"
"You mean you didn't know I was getting a 'D' in that class?"
"Well…" Jubilee started, not wanting to reveal her gullibility. "I just thought it was because you weren't motivated. I still think you're smart, Einstein."
Bobby blinked back imaginary tears, saying, "Aw, Jubes, that touches my heart."
"Shut up."
Giggling, Jubilee shoved the laughing boy to the other side of the couch, and drew up her legs to prevent him from coming any closer. "You're cold, girl."
"No, you're the cold one, Bobby Drake."
"Great pun, Jubes. You'll be a comedienne in no time." Bobby teased, forcing himself over her legs. "You know, for an iceman, I can create a lot of warmth."
Squealing, Jubilee grabbed a hold of Bobby as the two of them toppled off the couch, rolling along the floor and into the emanating heat from the fireplace. They ended up sprawled on the floor, limbs locked and Jubilee on top.
"Always gotta be on top, don't ya," Bobby remarked smugly.
"You better believe it, Sno-Cone."
Her dark hair fell to his cheeks, their faces not far apart, as she lingered atop him, considering her options. Having only returned to the Institute less than three months ago, her success with rekindling a flame with Bobby Drake had been growing steadily.
Though they'd never really dated prior to her initial leave from the team, back when Bayville's Board of Education was considering banning mutants from public schools, there had always been sparks that rivaled the ones originated from her powers. They were two pranksters, two carefree individuals who enjoyed humor and comic relief, and they constantly fed off one another. Jubilee was the wild child and Bobby was the jokester, but together they brought out a repressed side, a facet of their personalities not commonly viewed by their peers. Mr. Sensitive, Jubilee had taken to calling the ice mutant, was a moniker that always agitated him. But contrary to what most saw in him, Jubilee found a kind heart and comforting compassion. He was someone who could always make her laugh, who frequently looked out for her, and he could be so sweet at times. Though she was unsure as to what exactly Bobby brought out in her, she knew it was something only he could deduce for her. But the main point was that she felt special, she felt wanted, when she was with this boy. Anyone who could make her feel like that would've won her heart in a second, but Bobby's witty antics, his sensitive heart, and his friendly banter only further guaranteed it. She felt dizzy thinking about it, intoxicated by the thought of a loving, caring boyfriend who would protect her and always make her laugh. Bobby Drake was unlike any other guy she'd ever met.
"Hey, beautiful."
"Huh?" Jubilee reacquainted herself with reality, looking down at the face beneath hers.
"What're you thinking 'bout?" He asked, his hand running up her back. Mutant powers or not, his touch sent shivers reverberating down her spine.
"You," she responded, smiling as her raven hair dangled and tickled his cheeks.
"No, really? I mean, how could you not?" Bobby closed his eyes and attempted a charming smile.
"Mr. Modest," Jubilee surmised, rolling off him and onto her knees. She leaned back against the couch and watched the flames.
Bobby opened his eyes and rolled onto his chest. "You ever see a frozen flame?"
Questioningly curious, Jubilee eyed the boy doubtfully. "Won't your powers just melt or extinguish it?"
"Let's see."
Reaching out to grasp the licking flames, Bobby iced his hand and dug into the fiery domain of the fireplace, manipulating the moisture in the air and focusing on the flames. Mesmerized, Jubilee watched his hand venture towards the fire, but then her sights caught his face framed by dancing firelight, and her breath drew in. She couldn't break the stare, until a high-pitched "Ow!" shattered the silence.
Recoiling, between blowing on his hand, Bobby gave a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. Jubilee rolled her eyes, but her amusement shined through with a happy grin. "You're alright, Bobby Drake."
"Thanks," he replied blankly, sucking on his tender fingers. Jubilee giggled and leaned into the fireplace, watching the fiery dances taking place in the hearth, tendrils of heat coaxing her skin, as she indulged in the sea of warmth and admired the simple but captivating act of a flickering fire.
Suddenly, his arms looped around her and drew her back against his chest, as Bobby rested his chin atop her head. Then he breathed in her fragrance and parted her dark tresses, tickling the nape of her neck with his lips. His strong arms held her tight, and Jubilee felt a warmth descend on her that a fireplace fire could never, ever provide. She didn't know how to respond.
His heartbeat pulsated from his chest into her back pressed against it, a soft beat that slowly increased to a more excited repetition. Jubilee smiled and closed her eyes, focusing on Bobby's heart as it thumped between her shoulder blades.
"Nice?" Bobby asked in a whisper, his lips mere inches from her ear.
"Yes."
He sculpted his position around her frame, finding a way for her to fit inside his arms and against his chest with the most comfort, her slender frame nestled in his muscled one. The fire cracked in front of them, now its allure capturing both of their attention.
Resisting the urge to turn around, Jubilee did not want to interrupt the intimate moment by taking it to where things might get awkward. Sitting like this was worth a kiss and she couldn't bear losing the moment because of her own actions.
But Bobby had similar intentions, as his mouth drew alongside her cheek, Jubilee tilting her head to the side so that their lips could touch. They locked briefly and Jubilee disappeared for a moment, lost in simple bliss, until she sensed someone in the doorway of the library.
"Ahem."
The two parted from one another quickly, Jubilee wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and Bobby pretending to cough. Ray was standing in the doorway, smirking.
"Really, the library? Of all the places..." He clicked his tongue in faux distaste.
"Get a life, Ray," Jubilee spat, crossing her arms over her chest.
"How sweet, Jubes. You must charm Bobby that same way."
"Don't you have some computer to short-circuit?" Bobby remarked, reminding Jubilee of the other boy's lack of success with operating electronics for more than five minutes at a time. Whenever something didn't work to Ray Crisp's approval, his temper got the best of him and the device was usually the one to suffer. Jubilee wanted to ask how much in property damages the electrical mutant had accumulated over the past year.
"It's not my fault the Professor supplies us with crappy materials that are in dire need of an update," Ray defended, stepping into the room. Jubilee and Bobby pushed themselves up from the floor and stood as Ray joined them.
Ray threw his arm around Jubilee's tiny shoulders and drew her to his side for a squeeze. "So what've you two lovebirds been up to lately?" Jubilee snaked out from beneath his arm and stepped towards Bobby.
"We were just leaving."
"Come on," Ray whined, "talk with me, babe. I got nothing else better to do tonight, seeing as all us New Mutants are on lockdown 'cause of that screw-up in the DR yesterday."
"Which you caused," Bobby pointed out, putting his arm around Jubilee and leading her past Ray, who began to backtrack alongside them.
"That was so Roberto's fault, man! That cocky dude got overconfident and let me take the fall for it."
"And then your temper cost us the session. And you wonder why you're not the team leader?" Bobby said.
Ray frowned and stepped in between him and the doorway. "Ya got a lot to say without much to back it up, Bobby. You're the team leader, so ultimately, it's your fault, right? We lose, you're screwed, end of story."
"Whatever, Berzerker. Just go read that Playboy you stole from Logan the other night."
Eyes widening, Ray grabbed Bobby by the shirtfront and flung him into the opposite wall in the hallway. "Hey! I said I was joking about that, alright?"
"Leave him alone, Ray!" Jubilee threatened, stepping in between the two boys.
"Yeah, Ray," Bobby mocked snidely from behind the girl. Ray's jaw clenched and his teeth gritted as he moved towards Bobby.
Jubilee stuck her hands out and pressed her palms against Ray's chest, trying to sustain him. "Stop it, Ray, or I will leave you with a burn so bad you'll be crying to Dr. McCoy in the Med Bay."
Her hands glowed over Ray's shirt, illuminating both his face and hers. After glancing down at his chest and then back up at her, he grunted a sigh but did not step back. "Like your little fireworks hurt, Jubes."
"Try me and see."
He smiled down at her with what seemed like slight interest, but Jubilee blinked and forced the thought from her mind. His eyes left her hands and traveled along her arms to her chest, to her hips and her legs.
Quit imagining things! She demanded of herself, looking away. Now, she could feel Ray's heart beating beneath her hands pressing up to his pectorals. She shivered and remembered Bobby standing behind her, feeling dizzy and queasy all at the same time.
"Hey, you're burning my shirt!"
Jubilee gasped and looked up, and sure enough, her energy sparks were eating away the fabric of Ray's T-shirt, leaving two holes the size of her palms in the front of his shirt.
She almost apologized, but then she ordered, "Leave us alone or I'll completely ruin it. Make your choice, Ray."
"Yeah, your dignity or your precious shirt," Bobby added, his tone smug.
Jubilee hoped the other boy would just back off; no doubt any ensuing brawl would lead to injuries and punishments, and Jubilee knew that the Professor was notorious for the reprimands he dealt out. After she, Bobby, and Sam had taken the Blackbird for a joyride with Lance and Kitty aboard, the trio had received a month's worth of cleaning the aircraft, tidying up the DR after Logan's training sessions, along with extra chores like laundry detail or kitchen cleanup. It had been over a year ago, but Jubilee had yet to forget the aching her muscles did through the whole month-long ordeal.
Some of the tension in Ray dissipated, but he was still eyeing Bobby venomously. Reluctantly, he took a step back and away from Jubilee's hands, revealing that his shirt was already undoubtedly ruined.
Suddenly, Sam Guthrie's shaggy mane popped out from around the corner of the hallway. "Somebody's comin' ta the front door!"
The trio in front of the library cast dismissible glances in his direction.
"Ah'll rephrase that. Somebody's flyin' ta the front door. It looks like a girl." Sam drawled in his Southern accent, eliciting some intrigued looks from his fellow teammates. It wasn't everyday a new mutant arrived, flying and at night, for that matter.
Jubilee led the two other boys as the group followed Sam around the corner and through the corridor until they reached the landing of the massive staircase in the brightly-lit foyer. The four mutants descended the stairs hurriedly, as Logan appeared from one of the foyer entrances to the side of the staircase.
"Scram!" He shouted at them, but with their curiosity perked, the group bypassed his command and followed the loner mutant to the main entrance doors, as a figure appeared on the front steps, waiting patiently to be acknowledged.
When the doors opened, Jubilee's eyes were quickly drawn to the stranger's attire, cashmere and denim, smeared with soot and grime, tattered and frayed in several places. Her gaze drew to the stranger's face, composed of soft, pretty features, also darkened by smoke and soot, her flowing blonde hair tainted by grime and filth, as if she'd recently escaped a fire. Her eyes were glowing, not because of any mutation, but they sported an ethereal quality of frenzied antipathy. Her anger was directed elsewhere, but Jubilee couldn't help but feel the heat emanating from the young woman.
"What can I do for ya?" Logan offered, his tone calm but with a twinge of suspicion.
"I need to speak with Professor Xavier," the woman replied flatly, insistently.
"What for?"
"There's…there's been an explosion at the restaurant where I work. It's…more than a mutant hate crime."
"Explain," Logan said, hardly ushering her in but at least moving to the side so she didn't have to remain on the door stoop.
"Macaulay's off 5th Street North, downtown. Owned by a Mr. Worthington III."
Logan grumbled, already realizing where things were leading.
"It's a mutant-friendly establishment. About an hour ago, it was bombed. I have no idea how many civilians were hurt, but I know some mutants were kidnapped."
A flash of indignation rose in Logan's eyes. He growled and bore down on the girl, snarling, "Who?"
The girl refused to shy away from Logan's intimidating demeanor, his presence failing to faze her, and his gruff voice hardly enough to earn a shudder. "I managed to pull two boys out into the alleyway. One of them had red glasses and the other had abnormal eyes. There were two girls with them…"
"Jean and Rogue," Ray offered, stating the obvious to the others who already knew the two couples. Furious at the interruption, Logan glared at him with a silencing effect.
The girl continued quickly. "I didn't catch their names. One was a redhead and the other had these white streaks for bangs. The redhead…she left the table before the explosion, and I haven't seen her since, and I don't know about the other girl. I went straight to the guys who set off the explosion. I…I couldn't get the name of their employer-----it was obvious that they didn't devise everything themselves-----but then I was overpower by one of their weapons."
"Who'd do such a thing?" Jubilee asked, her voice a mix of anger and wretchedness.
"Oh, only about the whole human population of Bayville," Bobby answered. Jubilee flinched from his bitter tone, blinking at him and his unwavering frown.
"Guys!" Kitty's shrill voice sounded, as everyone turned to find her phasing through the wall in mid-stride. "The news report's saying there was an explosion in downtown Bayville! They're saying it was targeted at mutants!"
"It was also a ploy," the blonde girl stated, causing Kitty to halt and regard the newcomer hesitantly. "The explosion was meant to draw attention away from an abduction attempt."
"H-how do you know?" Kitty asked.
"They nabbed Jean and Rogue," Ray said bluntly.
"And Mr. Worthington," the girl added.
"W-what? Who was behind it? I-I mean, why-----"
"Go find the Professor, Half-Pint," Logan ordered. He hadn't used the moniker in a long while, but Kitty responded quickly, turning and dashing up the stairs. He looked over at the others. "Go help!"
Ray, Sam and Jubilee jumped from the barking tone, but Bobby was already chasing Kitty to the staircase. The trio joined their field leader in search of their mentor.
"What's your name, Blondie?"
The woman narrowed her eyes, abstaining from scolding or any kind of retort. Logan seemed to have a nickname for everybody, but they were hardly ever demeaning.
She pushed past him, intent on contributing to the search for the Professor, and regarded Logan from over her shoulder. "Carol Danvers," she said, before taking flight into the air, soaring past the hanging chandelier and into an adjoining corridor, leaving Logan a little dumbfounded and plenty intrigued.
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The dazzling nightlife illumination of Bayville's downtown array of skyscraper buildings and myriads of neon and fluorescent in the motorcycle's rearview mirror faded away like a brief afterthought. Chilly winds whipped Remy LeBeau's body, seeping through the rips and tears in his clothing and biting his exposed flesh. The icy air prickled his face like tiny stalactites, causing him to constantly blink his eyes. He wished that he'd taken his trench coat, his faithful trademark that was always able to keep him warm. Instead, as the night continued to churn towards twilight, still many hours away, the temperature continued to plunge and the rush of air battled Remy, as he coasted along the Interstate on his bike in only a tattered T-shirt and frayed jeans. His arms rippled with gooseflesh, as did his chest and his back, all vulnerable to the freezing gusts. His head still felt a little stuffy and his vision blurred ever so slightly, but he had no other choice than to steer his only means of greater-distanced transportation into the dark night, skirting beneath the orange glows lining the large road.
Escaping the tunnels had been a cinch, and his return to the surface had forced a greater degree of stealth, as the partly-demolished restaurant was swarming with city officials and curious pedestrians. His bike had been sitting with the shadows, untouched and in the parking lot. Before anyone had noticed the conspicuous, battered man in tattered clothing, covered in soot and blood and stalking the lot, Remy had exited the block with a high-pitched squeal of his tires.
Not long afterwards, he'd cleared the city limits, via the Interstate, and was currently spying for the correct exit that would signal his turn.
He spotted it almost too late, veering off the road and onto the exit ramp with a screech, gliding dangerously close to the asphalt. Had he not been so apt at handling the vehicle, even in a slightly groggy state, the turn would've been mangled. But Remy descended the circling ramp and turned onto a deserted road that ventured into the woods. Once he spotted the crushed undergrowth and separation within the adjacent forestry, Remy left the road and headed down the path, his wheels banging thick roots cast through the earth. He held tight to the bike handles, enduring the racking jolts that surged through the bike and into his body, reawakening dulled pain inhabiting his muscles. He began to fear a worse predicament after a jarring bounce almost caused him a groin injury, but the chaotic ride lasted only a few more seconds before the tires met the slick grass of a clearing. Instantly slowing, Remy planted his foot to keep from spilling off the bike on the slippery ground, coaxing the vehicle to a full stop and cutting the ignition. He removed himself tenderly, a newfound discomfort circulating through his rear end and groin area, thanks to the rough escapade. It was certainly not motorcycle terrain, and Remy had the pains to prove it.
The moon peaked from behind its gray veil, casting a waterfall of lunar light down to the clearing, illuminating the hollowed and gutted warehouse. Remy breathed in the sweet, cool air, and trekked to the back of the forgotten warehouse.
In front of his feet, the ground separated by a slit and allowed a mechanized platform to reach the surface. Remy stepped onto the platform and pressed a button, watching the moon disappear as the ground resealed above his head.
The descent was short-lived, no more than fifty feet deep. An immaculate, fluorescent-lit corridor greeted Remy with its expressionless steel interior, looking simple and somewhat futuristic. A little foreboding, too, combined with the silence disturbed only by the clatter of his footsteps singing atop the metal.
He headed down the elongated corridor, itself a dead end but still acting as the main vestibule of the underground domain with smaller branches of corridors extending to the left and right. The containment area was to the left, along with the experiment tables, storage, stasis tubes, and unused rooms or extra laboratories. The right-hand pathways led to sleeping quarters, the main labs, a medical station, and the control room. Remy strolled the corridor, his usual nonchalant saunter put off by his growing anxiety. He selected the second door on the right and entered a much tinier hallway, equally lit and metal-aligned, but with a lower ceiling and hardly wide enough for two people going opposite directions to pass one another.
The first door on his left was the widest and the thickest-----the entrance to the control room. It opened upon his arrival, granting him access from the inside. He stepped in and listened to the massive doors close behind him with an electrical hum.
"Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?"
Remy regarded the figure with his back turned, seated in the chair facing the control console, his front side lit by the milky glow of the surveillance screens. Other than the light that emanated off the console, the small, circular room was too dark to distinguish much else.
"Naturellement (Of course). Only one problem, though. Rogue was not s'pose t' be nabbed. She wasn't a part of dis."
"Plans change, my dear boy. You cannot envision every altering of direction, but you can anticipate gaining from failures. Rogue was not initially a part of the plan, but her presence is still needed. I can offer her something that no one else can-----in exchange for something, as always. Compensation can be an enlightening reward."
"Dat's enough! Release her or…"
The following silence filled with tension, but Remy could not back his threat in the least. The man sitting in front of him had too many variable hanging over the Cajun's head. He'd given him a taste of power and control, but alas, a sword hung overhead, restrained by only a thin horsehair, and Remy, though not one to fold for any bluffs, did not want to test this man and thereby doom himself. His shady supervisor wielded unmatched authority, faltering any defiance and all but forcing Remy to be dutiful. Especially now, with Rogue at his disposal, his mysterious administrator had an even greater hold on him.
Remy imagined a maligned smirk carved across the faceless man sitting in the dark, bathing in the glow of the control room console. "Once you complete the final task, our connection will be severed and Rogue will be spared. But compromise the mission, Mr. LeBeau, and you can only begin to imagine the fate you've condemned her to. Betray me, Gambit, and I will go through her before I come after you. Do we have an understanding?"
Grimly, Remy nodded, feeling his earlier indignation doused by the menacing ultimatum.
"The team you assembled is awaiting your arrival in the containment area. All you have to do is lead them through the sewers. I trust you've acquired knowledge of the location?"
Remy nodded, queasiness growing inside his gut.
"Excellent work. Your subterfuge skills are developing rather nicely. Now, brief the others on the mission and head out in an hour. You're free to do whatever you like between the briefing and your leave within the hour."
Realizing the conversation had ended, Remy turned as the doors opened automatically and stepped out into the hall.
"Oh, and Mr. LeBeau, feel free to go visit Rogue in the Med Lab," the man called after him, his voice deep and unnerving, as the doors commended to close. "I'm sure she would love to see you."
Sick to his stomach from the damming of guilt, Remy LeBeau fell back against the metal wall, cursing the man who had succeed in manipulating him like no one else ever had, a man he hardly knew or respected, but a man who nonetheless drove fear into his heart, a plunging dagger that serrated his chest and made him bleed the crimson lies and scarlet deceit that he had been storing up behind their backs all of this time.
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Author's Note: Well, there you have it! Our first baddie has made his appearance. But will he be the big bad of this story? And what of the X-men, with three of their own abducted, and another two missing? There wasn't too much physical action going on in this chapter, but hopefully any suspicions and/or questions were cleared up from the last chapter. I also hope that the Bobby/Jubilee scene went well. I think they're a strong couple even if they didn't get much screentime on Evo. And please remember to review! Ask questions, make predictions, or just send some nice feedback. It's all much appreciated. Thank yous to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, or just reading! Please continue to enjoy the story.
Next Time: Chapter V: Experiments
Jean, Rogue, and Warren soon discover the reasons behind their abduction, which turn out to be more twisted and diabolical than they could've imagined, as dark fascination slowly begins to unravel the captive mutants. Scott reunites with the X-men and prepares to save his teammates, while Remy completes his mission only to learn of a major detail his boss forgot to mention, leaving him wading deeper into a guilty abyss.
-fathoms-