It wasn't even the worst situation Remy had found himself in that week.

The goons hauled him in, before dumping him on a bolted down, solitary chair in the middle of a windowless room. At least they had been cunning enough to put an inhibitor collar on him.

Not that it would stop Remy from escaping. Unlike a few of his more cookie cutter superhero compatriots, Remy had skills other than his powers at his disposal.

He figured he should be insulted that he only warranted two goons tying him up and one watching. If he didn't have one or two darts worth of sedatives coursing through him, he would have been long gone. Luckily drugs wore off quickly on him. He should be probably be fully lucid again around the time they'd loose interest in him.

When he got a slap to the back of the head, he at first couldn't even tell what on earth it had been supposed to accomplish.

Looking up, he was greeted by the ugly mug of Graydon Creed.

Among his goons he stood out like sore thumb. Or maybe a black sheep among white ones. Wearing suit and tie and with gelled back hair he could have almost looked respectable. Or like a politician. The latter one, he actually was.

A presidential candidate running on a political platform of hate. Remy wasn't a big fan of politicians anyways, but this guy was a special kind of awful.

All four were just staring at him for a moment. Remy knew that sort of situation. If he was really lucky, he was looking at the sort of morons who thought that torture was supposed to be clean and pretty like it was in the movies and he'd get out mostly unscathed. The goons did hit him as that sort.

Graydon Creed on the other hand, didn't.

Alright, maybe he had just slightly underestimated how bad his situation was.

"Will this one do, boss?" One of the goons who had dragged Remy in asked.

"The Beast would've been better, but this'll do." Creed smirked. He had his father's smile.

Remy wondered whether anyone would still vote for him if that grimace were on his campaign posters. At least the goons looked genuinely happy at the semi-praise.

"Schmeits, talk to Truman about the assembly. After all, we finally have our centrepiece."

The goon that had done nothing but watch the other two work hurried away with a quick salute.

Creed turned to him.

"You'll be presented to this evening's assembly as an example for the threat humanity is facing. Count yourself lucky, mutant. Tonight you will be representing your entire race."

He was being typecast as 'demonic mutie' again. Maybe he and Kurt would start a support group sometime. They could even invite Hank.

"What an honor." Remy drawled. That wasn't the intention, but he counted himself lucky that it came out intelligible at all.

"Can't even speak right, the damned mutie." One of the goons muttered.

The other laughed. Remy didn't know why the first one bothered being quiet if the other was going laugh like a horse.

Creed shot both a look that made Remy uncomfortable even though he wasn't even at its receiving end.

"And I'm assuming the likes of you are going to be representing all of humanity? Shame, shame. Were you even elected yet? Last I checked the election's still a couple a' months away. You sure ain't getting my ballot!"

Remy laughed at his own joke. It probably wasn't as funny when you weren't concussed, or at the very least badly beaten and dizzy to the extent of seeing double when moving to quickly. Or Creed and his goons had no sense of humor.

"Wha'? Can't take away my right to vote yet!" He wasn't going to just take the abuse. If he couldn't hit back, he would at least make sure he hurt them with words. They hadn't gagged him after all. Big mistake.

Creed grit his teeth, and turned to the door.

"This country sure had its load o' bigots, Mr., but you do seem to be a special sort! Do tell, any painting schools rejected you recently? Any Indian symbols caught your eye yet?"

Remy hurled one last insult before Creed would have been out the door.

"Look atcha! Brave enough to rile up a crowd, but you run away from a few words out of my mouth. Coward!"

Creed's hand tensed on the door handle.

"Yellow coward." Remy had him. For a second, the feeling of triumph almost made him forget his bruises from the fight.

The backhand made him remember.

"Not… not very creative, are we today?" Slap number one didn't shut him up, and number two wouldn't do anything of that sort either.

"Niederfeld, give me your rifle." Creed growled. Yep, his poppa's boy. Well and truly, no matter how much he liked to deny it.

"Boss, you said we shouldn't injure him too much." The goon looked uncertain. He still held out his rifle.

Creed took out the clip and put on the safety. "Can't have him looking too pathetic, can we?"

Remy had a pretty good idea what was coming when Creed gripped the gun by it's barrel. That wouldn't be fun at all. Sometimes not running his mouth may be the better option after all.

"Hey, no need for-" Remy was cut off by rifle butt impacting in his ribs. He had already had some bruises there.

"Can't have anyone pitying the animal."

Remy couldn't quite get the air back into his lungs. The second hit landed in his stomach.

"But that doesn't mean we can't rough him up just a tiny bit."

This man looked nothing like the campaign poster. He looked like a wild animal. His eyes had a mad glint that made Remy doubt for a moment that he'd get out alive.

Remy's eyes refused to focus on anything in front of him. He could still see when Creed raised rifle for another hit. He wished he could raise his arms to cover his head.

Creed lowered the rifle. Remy let out a shaky breath of relief.

"People get all strange when they see something that looks like them injured. They'll get distracted by any visible bruises or limping. Count yourself lucky."

A nervous laugh almost bubbles out of Remy's chest.

His body protested every single movement. Remy quickly started getting himself back under control. Not before a hand grabbed him around his throat.

Creed's face took up his entire field of vision.

"There's nothing in the world you can take seriously, is there? You find even your own death funny, don't you?" He squeezed a bit harder. Remy felt a nail or two biting into the skin of his neck. "You think of nothing but eating, sleeping and maybe screwing at most."

That did sound a lot like Remy in his teenage years. Though he had also been pretty focused on proving himself to his Guild.

"Do you even know, do you even understand why we hate you?" Creed spat.

"'Cause you're bigots plain and simple?" Remy only barely managed to press out the retort.

For a moment he thought Creed would break his neck trying to push him away against a chair that wouldn't budge.

At least he dropped the rifle. Thank god for that, at least. He doubted he would have still managed to breathe had he gotten another couple hits with it's butt. Or a bullet to the chest. Creed sure seemed furious enough for that.

Instead of adding any more injuries to Remy's considerable collection, Creed released Remy's neck and started to pace, arms clasped behind his back.

He straightened himself out, and Remy could almost see the imaginary teleprompter he was staring at.

"Your kind is the primary threat humanity is facing in the current age. You are simply allowed to rampage around our streets, our schools, our homes! You corrupt and kill our children and walk away unscathed. All you ever need to say is how you're so discriminated against. How we're all hatemongers just because we say the truth!"

There was so much to unpack in that part alone. Remy had already opened his mouth to tell Creed just what he thought of his charming campaign speech when Creed continued. It had only been a rhetorical pause, apparently, and not the end.

"The truth, do you hear me!"

Remy did. Creed was yelling, after all.

"And everyone keeps their mouths shut in fear. Who wants to be called a nazi? Who wants to be called a bigot?" Creed's eyes almost seemed to glow. "And meanwhile the monsters under the bed are allowed to get away scot-free."

Creed was only working himself up into more of a Frenzy. If he continued on like that, Remy wouldn't need to break himself out. The X-Men would find him and Cyke'd blow up a couple of walls to get him out.

"To add to that, your kind doesn't even want to adjust to our culture. Or human civilization for that matter. Mutants do not have any sort of respect for the spirit of Liberty, the Christian faith, or even traditional family unit. You don't even raise your own children if it can be helped."

Creed seemed to be holding himself back. Remy hadn't thought the man capable of a feat like that.

Creed glanced over to the only other man left in the room.

"Jones, didn't you want to attend your daughter's performance?"

"Yeah, told her and the wife that I was busy already. Liz wasn't happy at all."

And wasn't that a good point about humans raising their own children?

"Go, watch her."

"You'd be alone with the mutie, boss." The goon seemed unsure. Remy's aching ribs argued that 'Jones' didn't need to to worry about his boss a-tall.

"If you and Niederfeld tied him up well, he shouldn't be going anywhere."

Jones looked uncomfortable.

"Well, uh... Let me check again"

Remy wanted to curse. He'd been trying to untie the knot already. Luckily, the goon didn't think of an escape attempt when seeing the loosened knot, he simply retied it more tightly than before. That wasn't the worst thing that could've happened, though the already raw skin around Remy's wrists sure didn't enjoy the treatment.

Then he was alone with Creed. Who knew someone could wear a suit and gel in their hair and look that much like an animal at the same time.

"You're going to die tonight." For a moment Creed looked like he was deep in thought. "Have you accepted your fate?"

"We'll see, mister, we'll see." Remy grinned.

Creed just snorted.

"Just imagine. Abominations like you are born to normal, good humans. Isn't that just a disgrace?"

He seemed to actually be looking for something in Remy's face. It felt strange.

"And then there's me. The counterweight." Once again Creed left a rhetorical pause that did nothing but annoy Remy further.

"If not for me, your kind would run rampant. The world would be your playground. I bet you only dream of defiling some good woman and spreading your curse!" Creed had worked himself up. Remy wondered whether the guy was projecting more than a little bit.

"God made me to fight your kind."

"I was born out of sin. Who would ever think of that. Me, born out of the dirty union of two monsters. My mother was a terrible woman. She'd steal faces like others change their shoes."

"And how she tried to twist me. Tell me how their dirty kind was above us humans. How they were set to inherit the earth."

"But I didn't buy her lies. I never did!" He was furious. He may have been trying to convince himself rather than Remy or anyone else. Remy almost pitied him.

"And when she saw that I wasn't as twisted as she and... And the animal that fathered me upon her, she abandoned me. She left me to the mercy of the orphanage. Mutants can't feel love. That's why your kind are like Cuckoos, growing under guise of being normal children." Creed turned and his mad stare focused on Remy once again.

"But some days I almost feel grateful to her. If she hadn't been the monster she was, I may never have found my purpose."

It actually took Remy an embarrassingly long time to realize what part rubbed him the wrong way.

"So you're saying you decided to become a professional bigot... 'cause your momma got rid of you?" Remy cackled. "Ay, cher, I've got some news for you: That ain't no excuse!"

"Same damn thing, happened to me, though I don't even get to know whoever my parents were. Didn't even stick around long enough for that. And you don't see me murdering humans and calling myself some sort of Messiah for doing it."

Creed seemed to need a little bit of time to process it.

"Aww, homme, did you think you were the only guy in the world whose momma didn't want him? Come on, be happy that you at least know who she is!"

Remy gave the other a moment to answer. He felt pretty proud of himself. He'd managed to render Graydon Creed, the perfect example of 'spew hate first, think never', speechless.

"There is no proof that your parents weren't mutants. You are quite likely to be the proof that mutants are truly Cuckoos." And there was the politician-speech. Remy barely even tried to hold back the groan.

"Bullshit. I call bullshit. Your rabid pack of bigots may buy it, but I don't." Remy spat. "All you are saying is that you blame all your issues on someone else. No wait, you blame it on a whole lot of people who never did shit to you!"

"You just looked at the worst exmple of mutants you could find, and you decided all mutants must be like that. And yeah, Mystique's a sucky mom. I'd know, I date her daughter." Remy grinned "So, good way to introduce myself to my future brother-in-law, no?"

Remy wished he had had something to capture Creed's face in that moment. He would probably have to ask one of the X-Men's telepaths about whether it was possible to print out a memory.

"But that just makes her human. Because humans make mistakes, like not thinking ahead about whether they want kids or not. And because every once in a while, humans just suck. And I'm including you in that category, beau frère. And isn't that just hilarious? You hate her because of how human she is."

"We muties, we make mistakes too. 'Cause we're just as human as you, monsieur 'Friend of Humanity'."

Creed was furious. Remy had known that would happen, but getting to tell the bastard his mind was worth it. Definitely. Especially knowing that the idiots didn't want to leave too many traces of torture and didn't have the time for the sort of cruelty that didn't leave traces.

"I'd like to rip your eyes out if they weren't the thing that marks you as the abomination you are. I'll have to settle for taking them out of your corpse after justice has been dealt."

He stormed out of the room.

A 'C' for originality, 'B' for execution, and maybe some extra credits for the personalization of the threat, Remy mused.

Still, Graydon Creed was a fool to believe Remy would stick around that long. He started back on untying himself before the door had even slammed shut.

A/N:

The light Romy-reference in this fic was completely accidental and I didn't even notice that I had written it in until Kjam pointed it out to me. It just comes with the field of trying to write something a bit closer to canon?

In comic news: My pre-ordered copy of Gambit #5 hasn't arrived yet. I'm waiting for it patiently. As patiently as I can wait. I'm not a very patient person.
I hope Marissa survives. She sorta grew on me.

And am I the only person who is shocked that there an actual character tag for Graydon Creed on here?