New Orleans, Louisiana
The Past, Seven Weeks Ago
Remy revived to find himself in absolute darkness. The side of his face was immersed in a pool of cold water. He drew a breath and choked on the stagnant water. His nose was assaulted with the stink of wet decay. Somewhere, something splashed. Remy raised his head and moved to lift himself from the floor. Broken tiles and glass clinked under his hands. He rose and sank back onto his knees, watching spots dance before his eyes over a backdrop of inky darkness.
Where am I? he wondered. His hand found a piece of broken tile and he charged it. It let off a meager glow. He saw he was surrounded by shards of tile, mouldering chunks of plaster, and fallen fluorescent tube lighting. The walls surrounding him were curved. He realized he was on the floor of the operating theater. A jolt of fear went through him and he had to cast away the glowing shard. It exploded nearby, splashing Remy with rank black water.
Remy stood shakily and felt the pockets of his coat. He found a deck of playing cards and drew them out. Taking the first card from the deck, he charged it and began to carefully make his way forward toward the first tiered riser leading upward. He climbed the first steps to the lowest tier. Something skittered off to his right and he turned. The glow from his charged card reflected red in the eyes of a rat. The rat sniffed the air, then turned and fled, its bare pink feet tapping away into the gloom. Remy proceeded to the second tier, making his way slowly upward. The threat of the pale man was still fresh in his mind, the one who claimed to be his father, but there was no sign of him. There were only the dancing shadows on the walls and the constant dripping of water. At the top tier, Remy turned and looked back down at the pit of darkness he'd just climbed from. With a shudder of apprehension, he turned to leave.
The door to the operating theater wouldn't open at first. Remy pulled harder on the steel door handle, then more frantically. Finally, the door dragged forward, scraping up a swath of mud and grime in its wake. Remy stepped into the hall. It was still dark, but he could see the faint outline of the two square windows set in the swinging doors. Remy paced forward. He peered through one of the windows and saw nothing but more darkness. His ears searched for sound. Another rat scurried down the hall. There came a soft slithery sound, like of something being pulled across the wet tiles. In a fright, Remy pushed forward through the swinging doors. He stumbled up the stairs, catching himself on the steps with one hand and dropping his card. It fizzled into nothing, plunging him once more into darkness. He felt terribly weak having expended the effort just charging the tile and the card. Remy wondered if he hadn't spent all his energy on...bringing himself to this place, wherever or whenever that was. He clambered up to the first floor on his hands and knees. The sound of his own exerted breathing filled his ears. After a few moments, he used the railing to climb to his feet and started towards the main hall.
Remy wondered what had happened to the hospital. Never in his life had he seen it empty, without light, without the hustle of people at work, of patients and nurses and doctors. What had happened here? What kind of crazy hellscape had he transported himself to? He found himself in the main hall. The main doors were before him. The large decorative window above let in a deep blue light. He could see that it was dark outside, but then lightning flashed, momentarily blinding him. Remy walked as fast as he dared to the doors. All around him were sights of decay and destruction. The walls were peppered black with mold. Discarded furnishings lay in broken heaps. Remy came to the doors and pushed. The doors were locked, chained from the outside. A boom of thunder echoed from the sky. Nothing had scared him so much as the sight of Big Charity locked and barred. Beyond the windows in the door, he could see chain link fencing encircling the courtyard which was overgrown with weeds. The wind sent trash blowing across the lawn. Remy threw himself at the doors and the chains rattled.
He was about to attempt to charge another card to blow the door open when he heard the sound of footfalls and a strange sweeping sound of something moving across the wet floor. Remy turned, dreading what he would see next. Lightning flashed and briefly illuminated the hall in blue-white light.
A woman's voice floated down the hall. "Here he is. Just as you predicted," the woman sounded pleasantly surprised, but her tone was dry and mocking.
A second voice spoke, low but female. "Predicted? No, my dear. Prediction had nothing to do with it. As if I would rely on a method so imprecise. This is as I projected. A careful calculation of the force exerted, mass, and the rate of –."
"Do me a favor and spare me the details of how clever you believe yourself to be," the woman interrupted. "You prattle on about your schemes like some Bond villain braggart."
In the dim light from the window, Remy could see two figures approaching. One was no taller than Remy himself. It was a teenage girl. The light caught on her yellow hair. From behind the wisps of her bangs, he could see a diamond on her forehead glowing with a dull red light. The girl stood behind the second figure. The other woman was seated in a wheelchair, her body canted to the side. It was clear that half her body was useless. Her skin was deathly pale, her hair black, her smile contemptuously cruel. Both figures had glowing red eyes. Remy felt his knees buckle and he fell back against the doors to slide to the ground.
The teenage girl remarked: "The boy is in no condition to flee. Likely he is weakened and disoriented."
"Terrified, more like," responded the wheelchair-bound woman.
The girl smiled grimly. "As he should be. Fear would serve him well."
~ oOo ~
Somewhere Else
The Past, Seven Weeks Ago
He didn't know where he was now, or why he was here. He had no idea what time it was, what day it was. It was still dark, but he didn't know if it was because the room was dark, or because of the blindfold pressing his eyelids closed. Remy was bound and gagged and sitting upright on a cold concrete floor, his legs folded beneath him. The room smelled damp and mildewy, but nothing so bad as the rot of the destroyed hospital. The wall behind his bound hands was rough cinderblock. His bindings, which seemed to be some kind of plastic that cut into his wrists, had been affixed to a bolt in the wall.
From somewhere to his right, he heard the sound of someone descending a creaking wooden staircase. The steps were light. It was the girl. She moved to stand before him. Remy could feel her eyes upon him. After a few moments, she pulled the gag from his mouth. Remy took the opportunity to open and close his aching jaw.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Drink," said the girl and she put a straw to his mouth. Remy obeyed because he didn't know when his next chance for water would be. She eventually pulled the straw away. Remy swallowed and tried to control his breathing.
"What do you want from me?" Remy asked again.
"I have a task for you," the girl replied. "An assignment."
"You t'ink kidnapping me is gonna get you what you want? You crazy, girl," Remy snapped. "You want me t'work for you, you go through de right channels. I don't –."
He was cut off by the sharp slap that stung his face. The girl was a lot stronger than she appeared. That didn't matter to Remy. He wasn't above fighting girls. He and Belle had disagreements that ended in the exchange of physical blows before. She usually started it. His biggest mistake had been to hesitate or relent when she fell into tears. She always got the upper hand then, Remy had the scars to prove it. Remy wouldn't hesitate to knock this girl flat on her ass given half the chance.
"Listen carefully," the girl told him, and she lowered herself to where Remy sat on the concrete so her face was inches from his. "You are at my mercy. You live under my sufferance. I am the one who controls you, who has command over your powers." She stood over him again, rising to her full height. Remy wondered how her presence could fill an entire room, as she was so slight and young. Her words resonated in his skull, as if she'd spoken them right into his mind.
"Who are you?" Remy asked, shrinking back from her.
There was a smile in her voice when she spoke. "You may call me...Alice."
"Where am I?"
"Don't you know?" she asked, amused. "You are the one who brought yourself here."
Remy had a vague sense that he'd transported himself to the future, but how far, he didn't know. When the pale man had grabbed him, he had panicked. Remy had seen a thousand possibilities stretching out before him on bright ribbons of light. Few of the ribbons seemed to show the promise of survival. Fewer still showed him a possibility of freedom and escape from the pale man. Only one hinted at a hope of finding his way home again. That was the straw he had grasped for. Where it took him, he had little idea.
"Did you see that ruin that once was a hospital, Remy?" Alice asked tauntingly. "Destroyed by a hurricane. No one came to aid that fetid swamp you call a home. No one cared if the entire city and its backwater inhabitants were swept away. But I came for you. You have no one else."
Remy shook his head in disbelief. "Non, c'est pas vrai," he whispered to himself.
Alice continued: "The hospital is just a small glimpse of the devastation. New Orleans is home to you no more."
All at once, Remy charged at the girl, but she stepped out of reach as his bindings drew him short. He fell to the floor. "Putain," he cursed.
"Such language," the girl admonished. There came a strange slithery sound, like of a snake shedding its skin, or a cicada pulling free of its shell. The presence standing before him had changed somehow. Remy scrambled backward until his back met the wall.
A second set of footsteps could be heard coming down the staircase. Remy struggled upright. The tread of steps was heavy and slow. They came to a halt at the foot of the stairs. For a moment no one spoke. Remy imagined the girl and the new arrival looking at one another.
"Were you delayed?" asked a low hollow voice. Remy felt chilled. He had heard that voice not so long ago. From the strange pale man. Remy turned his head toward the new arrival.
"No," the arrival answered. This voice was different, one Remy hadn't heard before. Remy cast about his senses trying to find where the pale man's voice was coming from. It seemed to be coming from Alice.
"I expect you to respond with more immediacy when I summon you," the pale man said.
"I expect you're gonna be disappointed then. What's with the kid?"
Though the voice was casual and he spoke with a defeated air, Remy sensed a possible ally in the newcomer. "Hey!" he called out. "Help! Please, dis girl –."
Remy was seized by the throat, cold strong hands gripped his jaw. The gag was forced back into his mouth despite his shouts of protest.
"What the hell?" the man at the base of the stairs said, his voice tired. He seemed to have no intention of helping. He only sighed in defeat. "Is that –?"
"It is not your concern," the pale man said.
"What are you going to do with him?" the visitor persisted.
"You've become so inquisitive," the pale man informed him. "So a clone has grown a conscious...? The duplicate has become such a departure from the original."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," the visitor replied dryly.
"Your impertinence is a detriment to your character...as well as your continued existence."
The man said nothing.
"The boy is going to provide a pair of eyes," the man continued and Remy felt the pale man's hand come to rest upon his head. Remy recoiled. "I don't mean that in a literal sense," the man said with dark amusement, turning his attention to the boy he had bound at his feet. "I only seek to borrow your perspective, young man."
"And what's this to do with me?" the other man asked.
"I am in the process of tying up loose ends. I require your services. Nothing that should be beyond your ability," the pale man said to the visitor.
"If you're looking for a short-order cook, I'm your man," the visitor said.
"That is not what I had in mind. I am charging you with the responsibility of killing LeBeau," the pale man told him.
Remy twisted away from the pale man and accidentally struck his head against the wall. The pale man laughed a hollow chuckle. "Not you, my young man."
"LeBeau?" the visitor repeated. "And why would I do that?"
"It is not your place to question me," the pale man told him. "But to obey. And it is not the LeBeau you know I wish you to destroy, but a copy. I am sure you can agree, one Remy LeBeau is more than enough."
"You cloned the Cajun?" the man asked. His tone conveyed he was not impressed.
"Not I. But my impostor. And I will not have the impostor's strays unleashed upon the world. This one in particular is making a nuisance of itself."
"How'm I supposed to tell the clone LeBeau from the real one?" the man asked.
"The differences are quite apparent. An idiot could tell them apart," the pale man responded. "Kill it, and I will free you."
The other man considered this. "You'll be done with me then?"
The pale man seemed to give his confirmation, though Remy could not see it. "Move the grate," the pale man commanded.
The visitor strode forward and there was a sound of metal dragging across concrete. The pale man loomed over Remy and he felt his bonds freed from the wall. The pale man dragged Remy forward. Remy's legs scrambled to find purchase on the smooth floor. He found himself held over an empty space. He shouted against the gag in his mouth. He felt a chill wind blowing up through the empty space beneath him. Then he was dropped into the void. After a short fall, he collapsed in a heap into a pool of muck. Remy rolled over onto his back to face upward. The grate was dragged back into place with a final clank.
~ oOo ~
Remy could hear distant voices filtering through the grate from the floors above.
"You intend on killing him?" asked the woman's voice, the one who had been in the wheelchair.
"I promised to free him. Once he has completed the job," answered Alice. "He will no longer be of use to me afterwards. Such a terrible thing, a purposeless existence. Death will be a mercy."
"Such compassion," the woman said with sarcasm. "I think the longer you remain female, the more sentimental you become."
"Be silent, Ms. Renko. You try my patience."
"Would that you were so merciful to me," Renko told Alice. "And spare me from having to listen to you talk."
"There is still some use to you yet," Alice replied.
"Compassionate and generous," Renko mused. "What about the boy?"
"A few days will give him time to appreciate the gravity of his current situation."
"Days? You've made me a prisoner of my own body. I've waited long enough, trapped in this chair. Send him now," Renko said.
"The boy is not prepared yet. He is still given to believe in the illusion of his independence. You will have your new body, my dear...and I, a more suitable replacement. But most importantly, I will see that pompous charlatan wearing my face destroyed."
~ oOo ~
Don't know who Alice and Renko are? Check out X-23 #5-6.
Non, c'est pas vrai – No, it's not true.
Putain - bitch/whore (Now you know a great new curse word. Use it on your friends!)
Notes: Charity Hospital of New Orleans was closed after Hurricane Katrina. Despite being clean and serviceable, its doors remained shut to the victims and survivors of the hurricane due to blatant sabotage and greed for federal dollars. The hospital remains closed and is on the National Trust for Historic Preservation's list of Most Endangered Places.
Next time: More fun at Stark Tower.