Friend of the Devil
I lit out from Reno, I was trailed by twenty hounds. Didn't get to sleep that night 'till the morning came around. Set out runnin' but I take my time. A Friend of the Devil is a friend of mine. If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight. Ran into the Devil, babe, he loaned me twenty bills. I spent the night in Utah in a cave up in the hills. ~Friend of the Devil- Grateful Dead
January 2003.
His family cast him out, seemingly without a second thought. For two years he wandered around, doing odd jobs and struggling to survive.
He doesn't remember what exactly happened that night in the bar, he'd been too busy trying to drown his sorrows to pay a lot of attention to his surroundings.
He remembers thinking the man was abnormally tall, had to be at least seven feet. And although he wore a heavy coat, his form was still visible and it looked strange. His shoulders were too broad for a normal man, his large, solid body was nearly intimidating.
It was then Remy looked up into the man's face, shivering at the bluish, hard skin. He couldn't see his eyes due to the shades he wore, Remy knew what that felt like.
The man began speaking to him, but he can't seem to recall the words. All he managed to decipher was that the man was a mutant, and a scientist. This man was requesting Gambit's 'services.' In exchange, he would not only pay, but he would offer the cajun the opportunity to 'go down in history'.
Remy didn't care much for the fame aspect of it, but he was tired of running and his funds were dwindling. He said yes, and unknowingly signed his life away.
It was a simple enough job at first. He mostly stole blueprints and machine parts from various locations. Soon, though, Sinister told him he wanted subjects, mutant subjects. Of course Remy refused, but Sinister told him he was only trying to help them control their powers. Hating his own eyes, the cajun agreed and gathered various mutants who said they were having troubles with their abilities.
When the subjects went through those metal doors and never came out, Remy knew instinctively that something had gone horribly wrong. That he was leading those poor people to Sinister like sheep to a wolf. He left soon after that, making sure to destroy the madman's lab in the process.
Sinister came to him again. Remy remembers the night in detail, because he'd never been so terrified in his life. Instead of killing him, Sinister told him he was making good on a debt the cajun had caused him. He told Remy he wanted a team of mutants, not for the experiments, but for his own use. He not only wanted them to be strong, but he wanted them to be outcasts and desperate souls; much like Gambit was.
The team was gathered and Remy was free to go. At least, that's what Sinister had said, but Gambit couldn't help but feel the ties that still remained, whispering against his skin and making him itch. He couldn't help but feel some camaraderie towards the man, he'd been the most stable thing in his life for the past year.
And so Remy tells him he'll go on this last mission, and they could end on good terms. He'd never seen the man's smile turn so predatory.
The events in the tunnel still haunt him, and always will. He hadn't known till the last minute what was happening, he hadn't known a civilization of mutants were trying to make a living down there…the only thing Sinister told him was he needed a new location, and there might be some resistance.
He'll never forget that helpless despair when the massacre began. So much blood, pints and pints of blood…children and women screaming, the snapping of men's bones- they fought, they fought with all they had, but when Marauders wanted something done, it was done. Remy had chosen the team well, too well it seemed.
He knew without doubt that it was his fault, knew the lives of all those doomed people were on his hands, forever. He couldn't think over the stench of blood and sewage, couldn't take the guilt….
Of course his first reaction was to run.
Set out runnin' but I take my time, a Friend of the Devil is a friend of mine, If I get homebefore daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight. I ran down to the levee but the Devil caught me there. He took my twenty dollar bill and vanished in the air. Set out runnin' but I take my time. A Friend of the Devil is a friend of mine. If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight. ~Friend of the Devil- Grateful Dead
Of course his first reaction was to run.
The doors of the cage barely have enough time to open before the cajun barrels through, somehow avoiding Sabretoothe's deadly claws. Taking a glance to his right, Remy sees Sinister's grin, he knows the chase has begun. It takes him only seconds to retrieve his deck and fling the miniature missiles towards the wall, effectively creating his escape to another room.
The smell hits him as soon as he goes in, and he knows he's picked the wrong room to hide in. The smell, just like all those years ago…
This is where Sinister holds the poor subjects of his ghastly experiments.
He trembles and quakes, trying desperately to block out the moans and gargles from the mangled bodies of mutants. Or at least, what is left of those mutants.
His eyes travel to the back, to the staircase. A few steps, and he can make it. He can escape with his life and other bodily parts. He can flee to the X-men, he can see his chère …Rogue. He needs Rogue.
It's the thought of her green eyes that ultimately stops him. Because those compassionate green eyes of hers could not look on these tortured souls and simply walk away. Rogue is brave, she'd never just leave them-
He growls in frustration but begins blowing off the locks anyway. He's going to get himself killed, and for what? The respect from a woman he's promised never to see again?
He grabs the withered arm of one man and hauls him up impatiently, trying not to wince at his emaciated form.
"Come on, get up! Run!" He shakes him, but the man only looks at him from shrunken eyes.
It's then Remy looks around at the scene before him and takes time to truly note how dire the situation is, his chest falls. They are all like this, they're all too weak and battered and mutilated to even care about escape. Some of them don't even have legs to run on.
He nearly vomits. And to think, there'd been a time when he'd actually gathered mutants for this same fate. If he's ever felt completely damned in his life, this is the most profound moment.
The man wheezes something, to him it sounds like a helpless plea.
Nodding and willing the pain in his temples to cease, Remy kills the man in the gentlest, quickest way possible and lays his body on the ground.
Turning to the other prisoners, he sees a similar wish on all their contracted faces. And he knows that for once, he'll be killing in the name of mercy. It doesn't make the concept any easier to swallow, though.
Before he can fully accept his duty as an angel of death, he feels a paralyzing hand on his shoulder. He spins around to the grinning, Asian man.
"Round one of the game is over Gambit, I've found you."
"Scrambler," he croaks, and then he succumbs to the man's static touch.
...
"We could find him faster if ya helped."
It doesn't move from its spot on the tree branch. Again it shakes its head. "No."
"Why not?" Rogue finally snaps, the thought of finding Remy making her impatient. "Ah'm gonna find him eventually, why not just make the process easier for everyone?"
It shrugs, eyeing its nails haughtily. "I gave you the ability to use the gifts of the psyches. Attain the whereabouts of your lover by our own effort."
The belle grows flustered. "Ah don't like to use them. It ain't right." She doesn't deserve to use the powers of those she's hurt, it's almost an insult to their suffering.
It raises its eyebrow. "You're so noble…" it snorts, going back to its brooding. "…it's such a waste."
"Ya know," she growls, "if Ah didn't know any better, Ah'd say ya didn't want me to find Remy-"
It smirks, and Rogue wants to slap it across the face.
"Beautiful and smart. I knew you were the right choice."
"But…why," the belle asks desperately.
Its eyes burn through Rogue's skin.
"Because you're mine. "
And then Rogue is pushed from her own mindscape.
...
Her eyes flutter against the harsh sunlight, she feels twigs snap and leaves crush beneath her weight as she props herself up. Her side protests at the movement, she goes over it with her hand.
Blood.
The werewolf-
She lifts her shirt, and finds three equidistant slashes across her hip, revealing the bone. The pain does not register, and she watches with disinterest as the fatal wounds heal within seconds.
Coming to her feet, she determines by the dull ache in her muscles and the dirt on her clothes that she must have spent the night outside, alone. But she remembers there being someone else…pain splits her skull and she screams.
Tears escape her tightly clamped lids and she takes in uneven, quick breaths through her teeth. Eventually, the grinding in her head subsides, and she takes a few staggered steps towards the light that breaks through the tree line.
Where the hell am Ah?
When she breaks through the forest, she's greeted by an enormous meadow. An enormous, empty meadow.
She scans over the swaying grass in every direction, but sees nothing. No people, no mode of transportation, nothing to give her any clue as to how or why she's here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. If only she could remember…the agony returns but through it, she manages to see the broken pieces of her memory float in front of her.
A man with a red slash across his eyes…she remembers the feel of his arms around her.
A feral beast, gritting his teeth beneath her…the blood on her shirt.
Darkness, her hand moving across a flat surface…she'd been blind, why hadn't she been able to see?
"Chère -"
The dam breaks, and washes across the hurt she feels. That name, his voice, those eyes- did she know this man? Her heart tells her she does, and slowly, she opens her eyes.
A tiny tug pulls at her chest, she looks off to the direction its pulling. The man with the burning eyes is all she can seem to think about, the other man with the slash across his eyes and the feral werewolf fade from her thoughts. Harder and harder she concentrates on the sound of his voice. She has to find him, she's always wanted to find him-
She rises from her feet, but does not feel fear or apprehension.
She knows she will find him faster this way. The man with the burning eyes. The man she doesn't remember.
The man she is in love with.
...
"Professor?" Even in her own fragile state, Betsy can still sense the change in the air. The way his fingers press harder into her temples, the way sweat breaks across his forehead-he is not at peace, and something is horribly wrong.
"B-Betsy," his hands fall to her lap and she gathers them in hers. "I-it can't be!"
The older man is so white she's afraid he'll faint. "What is it? What happened?"
He turns to look her straight in the eyes. The lines in his face suddenly grow deeper.
"I can no longer sense Logan's presence."
...
He's had nightmares about this moment. Horrible, sickening nightmares that keep him up night after night. It's as if his mind can predict the future, just like his tante Mattie has always said, and he's subconsciously known all along that the fate he'd unknowingly bestowed upon others would be his fate, too. His tante had always, since she first met him, said there was something in him: a latent ability that allows him glimpses or premonitions into the future; only by his senses at times, but at other instances: full on visions.
Now he is the one who's dragged behind those metal doors. He's the one stripped off all his clothing, ridiculed. It's his hair that Sinister shaves away. His arms, his legs, every inch of his body is bared. He's as hairless as he'd been in the womb.
They freed him from his cell again yesterday, and the day before. He'd known from the beginning that they'd just been toying with him, but that thought still did not squash the hope he'd felt. He'd been a fool to hope. He will never get away, he'll never see the sun again, he'll never see Rogue again. If only…God if only. He could accept death if he could just feel her lips one more time. Then he could stop breathing, happily even.
"You needn't worry," His voice comes to Remy from somewhere up above, the light was too bright for him to look. "You will survive this surgery. You are an integral piece to the evolution of mutants, and I would never let a trivial thing like revenge influence my actions."
He's the one strapped to an unbearable metal slab. He's the one screaming and shouting for help. It's his hands and feet that are bound in metal cuffs. His desperation claws against his insides. The shit they injected in his arm makes him feel like jelly; he can't conjure any of his abilities. And, among everthing else: he wants to weep for the irony of it all—after all the tims he's wished to be normal, he gets his wish now.
"Though I must admit," he lays each sharp tool on a silver tray, "I was furious when I found my lab in ruins."
He'd be sliced into by the same tools he'd helped steal for Sinister all those years ago. How cruel is fate going to be to him?
"I could never understand why you ran from the tunnels that night. After all, you'd seen so much death before in your life, even been the cause of some of those deaths."
He looks to the side, tries escaping from the restraints once more. He's long beyond panic. He's a man staring straight at his worst fears.
"Eventually," he holds the syringe up to the light and tabs the side of the chamber. "I discovered that I'd underestimated your humanity. You see, I'd thought you'd been broken, that you no longer gave thought to your actions."
Remy arches but it's of no use. He's trapped. He's at the mercy of a man who has no mercy to give.
"You still had a heart, and it troubled me."
He weeps, his bravery and pride leaving him, his dignity gone. "Essex, please. Don' do dis-"
"First I'll help you reach your full kinetic potential. You'll no longer be limited to inorganic substances."
He screams and thrashes, Sinister injects another unknown serum into his bruised wrist.
"And then," Sinister's small, sharp teeth gleam. "-I'll make it so you never have to worry about silly little things like emotions ever again."
Neither of the men notice the slight rumble that courses through the building.
...
He's in something he can't break through. His brute strength is not enough to free him, and this puts him into a stupor-his muscles don't betray him very often.
A curvaceous figure appears in the darkness. Two of the guards he'd seen earlier flank her sides. His keen senses tell him they aren't human.
With a flick of her wrist, the two men bow and return to the shadows. She turns to him, her shoulders squared and her chin raised proudly.
She's draped in violet and onyx fabric, something that looks like silk but isn't. Her arms are bare, decorated only in intricate bracelets and markings he's never seen before. They're too beautiful to be labeled simply as 'tattoos'. The markings sweep across her exposed neck, dance up her cheeks, and swirl around her sapphire eyes. The feathers atop her head tremble as she speaks.
"You must excuse our inhospitality, human. The desperate position we are in leaves no time for pleasantries."
He growls deep in his belly. "And just who the hell do you think you are?"
Her face does not lose its tranquility. "I am Lilandra, princess of the Shi'ar Empire, and you're going to help me."
He snorts, his eyes darting around to watch the movements of each individual. "And why would I wanna do that?"
"Because my people and I are the only things standing between her and the destruction of your Earth."
...
Her landing creates a twenty-foot wide crater. Cars swerve to avoid the deep hole, people scream, the buildings around her shake and sway.
She ignores all of this, and jumps from the crater in one fluid motion. Brushing rubble from her torn jeans and ratty shirt, she focuses on the tug in her chest and lets it lead her to him. His presence is so close, she's almost overwhelmed. She can smell what he smells- something sterile, blood. She can see what he sees: bright light, it hurts her sensitive eyes. She can feel what he feels: numbing liquid in her veins, despair…agony.
And that's when the rage blinds her and she knows she'll kill the person causing him such anguish. Because she hurts when he hurts, too.
She walks down the sidewalk, her eyes remain planted in front of her. No doubt the police will be called. Maybe the army even. No doubt they thought she's some kind of deranged mutant bent on destroying humanity. (It's happened before in all actuality—many times at that.) Once she finds the man, once she has him in her arms, she can rest and be at peace. But until then…until then she doesn't care what she had to do to stop him from suffering.
...
The sedative splashes over his senses and the room around him fades.
He cringes inwardly, knowing that when he wakes, he won't be the same man. He'll be just another one of Sinister's lackey's, with no will and no backbone. He'll finally be broken, the glow will leave his eyes, the spring will forever disappear from his step.
He wonders if Sinister will let him remember Rogue.
...
Jean clings to her husband. Her red hair sticking to her clammy forehead, her head lolling from side to side. Scott is the only thing keeping her upright, and he lowers her gently to the couch. One moment they'd been watching a movie, holding hands, pretending like always. The next she'd been screaming, clawing him like he was some kind of monster.
She goes silent.
"Jean…?"
"It's the Professor, Scott. He's-seen something."
Concern instantly makes him stiffen. "Is it Rogue? Oh God, if something happened to her-"
"If something happened to her- what? What would you do?" Her voice is soft, she's contemplating.
He squirms under her knowing, turquoise eyes. "We'll talk later, honey. For now, we've got to make sure everything's okay with you. You're so pale, you scared me."
They both know there's only woman he's concerned about.
...
Her hand tightens in his as they glance up the hill to the big white house. It's surrounded by a fancy iron fence. The gates are decorated with complicated designs.
"This is it," she breathes. There is something false about her smile. "This is where Ah grew up."
He doesn't give her an answer, he's too overwhelmed to come up with a response. She's bringing him to her first home, the place she was raised. In a way, she's letting him see her childhood. She's letting him inside, letting him peek into her past.
It's more than he's ever done for her.
...
She elaborates when he gives her no reaction.
"There is a mutant known by the name 'Rogue' within your midst, is there not?"
He winces at her name and the things he'd had to do in self-defense. He'll never know what triggered it, but something had snapped in the belle and she didn't care who or what she destroyed: himself included.
"It is understandable that you would not wish to discuss her with us. After all, I'm sure you consider her a comrade." She chances a step forward, her staff making a slight 'tap' as it hits the hard floor.
"But there is no doubt you and your companions have noticed a…change within her…"
"Listen, lady," he glowers heavily, "I don't know who the hell you are, or what the hell you want, but I got nothin' for you. So why don't you do yourself a favor and let me go before I get really angry?"
If she's intimidated it does not show. "I've already told you who I am, but I have not told you why I've brought you here. Perhaps if you gave me a chance to explain, you would see that our interests meet."
Another step towards him. "I would like this meeting to go as smoothly as possible, for I do not want to make enemies of the humans. However, if you do not see to reason, I'll have no other option but to force you to listen."
He smirks. "I always did like the violent broads."
She frowns, and for only an instant her calm is rippled. "This is nothing to joke about. Right now, your friend is wandering around, with the most powerful being of all the galaxies festering within her!"
"Rogue's a tough kid, one of the toughest I've ever met actually." He stays unruffled. "She'll make it through this, just like she's done with everything else."
"You fool," she snaps. "The girl you knew is no more. She's doomed, human. Death is her only fate, and I plan on carrying through with destiny. It would be most helpful if you Earthlings were on our side, but your disagreements will not deter us from our mission. Phoenix has strayed from her true obligation. If we destroy the body that houses her, Phoenix will die with it. There is no other choice."
...
The gates open for the woman without even a lift of her hand.
The heavy doors make way for her as well, as if somehow knowing she's on a rampage.
The closer she gets to the man, the more she feels his fear. Waves of power pulsate around her, her emerald eyes turn saffron: nearly blinding in their intensity.
A black, thundering aura surrounds itself around her small frame, and she ignores the staircase. Instead, she grits her teeth and she rips up the floor in one crushing, epic pull. The floor boards groan as she discards them, she hears the terrified screams of the insignificant individuals below.
With a sweep of her finger they turn to nothing but dust. The wind carries them away within moments, to be deposited across the city.
When she breaks through the last wall, she can feel his burning presence, she cannot remember him but her heart aches and she somehow knows she needs him.
The devil man is all that stands between them. He is facing her, a scalpel in his hand.
He knows his life is coming to an end.
Got two reasons why I cry away each lonely night, the first one's named Sweet Anne Marie, and she's my hearts delight. The second one is prison, babe, the sheriff's on my trail. And if he catches up with me, I'll spend my life in jail. Set out runnin' but I take my time, A Friend of the Devil is a Friend of mine. If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight. ~Friend of the Devil - Grateful Dead