Chapter 3
XxXxX
(when this began)
I had nothing to say
And I get lost in the nothingness inside of me
(I was confused)
And I let it all out to find
That I'm not the only person with these things in mind
(inside of me)
But all that they can see the words revealed
Is the only thing that I've got left to feel
(nothing to lose)
Just stuck, hollow and alone
And the fault is my own, and the fault is my own
"Somewhere I Belong" – Linkin Park
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The theater had seen better days.
Back in its glory, it had been a place of inspiring drama, heartfelt tragedy, and uproarious comedy.
All that's gone now.
Not because of him or anything, though it certainly looked like it could've been his fault.
Like everything else.
A fire had claimed this place not too long ago. Electrical problems was said to be the cause. It's entirely possible; it is a very old building.
Others said the theater was cursed; perhaps someone had dared to use the word 'Macbeth' during a performance instead of 'The Scottish Play', and brought copious amounts of bad luck down upon the building.
Either way, it was a perfect place for a young man to hide out in.
Hopefully that last little…uh…surge, hadn't been noticed.
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Flying at a speed not associated with commercial airlines, the Blackbird carried its two occupants towards its destination: Seattle, Washington, or more specifically, The Laurel Theater.
The readings Cerebro had gotten were erratic to say the least, one minute the mutant was there, and the next there was no trace of him. There were energy surges periodically, but Charles was unable to determine what sort of power the mutant possessed.
"When he blinks off of Cerebro's radar, it leads me to think there is some sort of telepathy, but these releases of energy suggest something else, I can't figure it out." Charles mused as they neared their destination.
"We shall just have to wait and see when we arrive." Storm replied. On the outside, she appeared calm, but her mind was racing. 'So far we have done well with having a new mutant around, Kitty has been very receptive to the idea of the X-Men, who's to say anyone else we come across would be?'
Charles was having similar thoughts. It wasn't going to be easy to convince anyone to put their life on the line in order to achieve peace. But he still felt confident that he would be able to help young mutants deal with their powers in an environment that wasn't threatening.
His current roster of students was quite the melting pot. Three were part of the original team, while the rest had only been around for a few years. They were, however, all very experienced in what they did, so Charles felt it time to bring on some new blood, as it were.
Looking down at the screen before him, he saw that they were rapidly approaching Seattle, and turned his mind to this new mutant.
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Taking a look around to make sure no one was watching him, the young man made his way back into the theater after a trip out to get something to eat.
A quick trip through the crowded streets of downtown Seattle had given him enough cash to last him for a few days at least. He almost felt bad for those he had just ripped off, knowing that right about now they'd be panicking about their missing wallets. But you gotta do what you gotta do to survive on your own. He'd learned this over the course of the few months he'd been on the run. No one was going to hand him anything; case in point, the clothes he was currently wearing he had taken from the back pack of some burnout that had been passed out after having way too much reefer. Buddy was still stuck in the grunge era, so he himself now looked like he belonged in some garage band.
He could handle that for now. It wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone.
Making his way back towards his little hideout with a sandwich and bottle of water he'd picked up at some 7-11, he'd begun wondering if this was really it for him. Was he actually going to spend the rest of his days hiding in abandoned buildings, wearing clothes that so did not fit him, and live off of gas station food? Didn't really sound all that appealing, but figured that he'd worry about that after he'd eaten his meal, meager as it was.
Finally reaching the theater, he made pushed aside the loose board that covered the entrance and made his way over to the once extravagant stage and over to the corner that he had claimed as his own…not that there was anyone around to contest it, but whatever.
Just as he was about to take his first bite, he felt a pricking sensation in the back of his mind. He was about to chalk it up to nerves and go back to his sandwich, when he felt it again; that almost cold sensation of something foreign touching his consciousness. Standing up slowly, he looked around the vast building to see if anyone had found their way in while he was gone. Not sensing a presence in the building, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. It was a habit he wanted to eventually break, but there were times when he needed the deep, calming breathing that smoking provided.
Not even thinking about it, instead of using a lighter, he placed his finger and the tip of the smoke and sent a tiny charge through it…
XxXxX
"Storm, do you copy?" Jean's voice echoed through Storm's tiny earpiece that acted as her link back to the mansion.
"Yes Jean, I can hear you just fine. Please go ahead."
"The mutant you're trying to find just used his powers, Cerebro has managed to pinpoint his location."
"Oh thank goodness, this will save us so much time." Storm said as Jean gave her the location. "Hopefully we won't return empty handed."
"I agree," Xavier said, having head the same conversation, only inside his own head as opposed to a microphone. "This theater isn't too far from here, we should be able to make it there before he takes off again."
"How exactly are we going to persuade him to come with us? If he's hiding out in an abandoned building, he may be a runaway, and if he is, he most likely won't be too trusting…" Storm trailed off.
"Not unlike when I first met you, is it?" Charles asked with a slight smile.
"It's not every day you have someone talking to you without opening their mouth." Storm replied matter-of-factly.
"Alright, no mind-talk this time. Just old fashioned conversation."
"I believe it's this way." Storm said, half rolling her eyes as they made their way to what would hopefully be their next recruit.
Not two seconds later, an explosion was heard down the block,
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Okay, so maybe using his 'power' to light a cigarette wasn't the smartest idea. He didn't exactly have the best control over it at times, but one little charge shouldn't have done this much damage! He looked around at the mass of broken wood, wire and old velvet that now graced the floor of the stage. What used to be the stage curtains now laid in a massive heap after his smoke had gotten a little too hot to handle, and unthinkingly been tossed into the air.
He was about to try and shove the debris off to one side, when he heard someone try to come through the loose board at the entranceway.
Christ, he should've known that somebody was going to hear that one! He bolted for the ladder that took him up to the rickety catwalk. Looking down at his few possessions, he cursed himself for not grabbing them. It might be the cops trying to get in, and they'd have dogs that could sniff him out and…they must be slacking off or something, most police units wouldn't send in a guy in a wheelchair.
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Using a small bolt of lightning, Storm managed to blast the through some of the planks of wood that were used to board up the entranceway. Clearing a path to make it easier for Charles to maneuver his wheelchair, the pair made their way into dusty mess of a theatre.
"I don't suppose we could just knock the whole place down and scare him out." Storm said mostly to herself. "It might be an improvement." She looked around the building distastefully.
Charles gave her a look. "Now Ororo, what kind of attitude is that? I'd expect a remark like that from Logan before you." He said with a wry grin.
"Perhaps Logan is rubbing off on me…"She trailed off, realizing the possible implications of what she'd just said.
Just as Charles gave a small laugh, they heard another quiet laugh echo through the massive room.
"Hello?" Storm called out, and received no answer. "Come on now, we know you're there, we heard you…laughing at me." She finished with a rather indignant huff.
Masculine laughter by the sounds of it. A creaking sound was heard in the vicinity of the upper part of the stage, followed by some mild cursing. Giving away one's position was one of his first lessons back in…well, in 'the before time'.
"We're not here to hurt you, young man." Charles called out. "We only wish to talk." Still no response.
If I may, Charles?" Storm inquired of her mentor. At his nod, her eyes began to fade to a milky white and a fair wind picked up inside the building.
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How in the Hell does a tornado form inside a building? His mind screamed as the catwalk started to sway. Not exactly the most stable ground, he quickly made his way to the ladder and all but slid down before he was blown off.
From his vantage point on stage left, he got a better look at his visitors. Was the woman causing the wind? This is crazy!
Not as crazy as you'd think. A voice spoke within the recesses of his mind, causing him to jump despite himself. The voice wasn't threatening, but the fact that it was in his head and not spoken aloud, made him even more wary.
"You needn't be afraid, we are here to help you." The woman spoke, at least it was out loud.
Chancing a better look, He stuck his head out from behind the wall. "Who are you?" He asked, the other occupants of the theater detecting a southern lilt to his voice. "And what the Hell do you want?"
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Finally seeing the one they had been seeking, both Storm and Xavier visibly relaxed. The young man seemed willing to talk with them.
"My name is Charles Xavier, and this is my associate, Ororo Munroe." Charles said, trying in vain to see a face hidden in the shadows, only to see a faint red glow. "We are like you, we are also mutants."
If he didn't know better, Charles would have sworn that the glowing had gotten brighter, if only for a second. "I ain't a mutant." The voice said indignantly.
"I think that explosion we heard would suggest otherwise." Storm said, also trying to get a better look without scaring him off.
"Cherry bomb."
"I highly doubt a cherry bomb could have caused that." Storm pointed to the other side of the stage, at the splintered and charred wood left over from the cigarette incident.
The young man said nothing.
"Do you suppose that you might come out into the light? It seems only fair that if you can see us, that we ought to be able to see you as well?" Charles asked in as calming a voice as he could make. The mutant seemed to consider this, and with what appeared to be much trepidation, took one step out from his hiding place. Taking this as a good sign, Charles continued. "As I said, we are mutants. Like you, we have special abilities that make us different from other human beings. I know how difficult it can be when you're alone and trying to cope with strange powers that seem more like a curse than a blessing. But you are not alone, there are others out there like you, who deal with the same issues and stresses that you've been facing for years!"
Another step out of the shadows. "I highly doubt that." He said, thinking back to all the drama he'd had to deal with back home.
"Well, perhaps not all, but in terms of gaining control over your abilities, I'd wager it would be very close." Charles conceded. Yet another step was taken out of the shadows, allowing them to get their first good look at the mutant they had come to help.
A fairly tall, lanky boy of about seventeen stepped out before them, ripped clothes hanging loosely on his frame. Reddish-brown hair hung over his eyes, which gave both Storm and Xavier a brief start; A burning red over a sea of black stared harshly back at them. He clearly hadn't eaten a well-balanced meal in quite some time, and a shower probably would hurt either.
"Is there a point to all'a this?" He asked, seriously wondering why he was even listening to these people.
"I'm getting to that, please, just hear me out a few minutes more." Charles continued. "I run a place that reaches out to young mutants, giving them an opportunity to use develop their powers, as well as a chance to interact with others who share your problems."
"As well as a roof over your head and three meals a day" Storm interceded. She had been in this boy's situation once before herself, she knew that these were comforts that he hadn't seen for quite some time.
"Yes, that as well. I help young mutants control their powers and show how they can be used to better the world, and themselves." Charles said. He could see the young man's façade was starting to falter.
"And jus' what do you want as repayment for this 'generosity'?" The mutant retorted. "People don't offer somethin' for nothin'." No way in Hell was he gonna be some sick old man's plaything.
"Nothing, except that you keep your room clean and engage in regular training exercises." Storm said. She saw the brief flash of fear and contempt in his eyes.
"For real?" He asked.
"Really really." Storm replied. She stepped up onto the stage and looked directly into his eyes. "Trust me on this, I know what you've been going through here, I had to do it myself for a time when I was younger. I know how miserable it can be living with nothing and wondering if you're ever going to get another meal, or if someone is going to come along and kill you in your sleep for the shoes on your feet."
Her voice was calm, soothing. He could tell that she really could empathize with his situation, though he wasn't sure how. "You'd really help me?" He asked in a small voice. Hard as it was to believe, he really did want to know more about his so called gift, and these people seemed pretty sincere.
"Yes. That is what we do." Storm said, silently thanking her Goddess that they might be able to help one that had been so like her.
"I do have one request though." Charles said. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell us your name?"
Running a hand through his matted hair, the mutant pondered for a second. "How 'bout for the time bein', you just call me Gambit?"
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AN: Wow, it's been a cow's age since I even looked at this story! I'm not sure if all that happy with this chapter, but for some reason I was struck with an urge to continue with it. Upper level university gets in the way of writing for leisure.
So, yeah, Remy's in the mix now. Don't know if I did him justice, it's hard to come up with a convincing way for a teenage runaway to go off with some old dude without it sounded gross. But, I tried my best. Hope those that read this like it.
Next Time: Psylocke makes her grand entrance