The darkness receded slowly. When it did, Remy wanted to curse. No sunglasses, and the rooms lights felt bright against his lately unused eyes. The walls didn't help. White. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. There was really nothing to even look at in the room. The only color at all was the hospital style bed he was resting on.

Well, look like dis Essex live up to his word so far. Ain't dead. Huh. Body feels like it almost completely healed. Wonder how long I been out for..

He almost murmured in awe, as he lifted his arm and shifted in the bed. He felt like a young bull once again. Oh, there were some aches or pains, but nothing like the pain he'd felt after the explosion. A little weaker, maybe, but a lot more sound then he had any right to be after what had happened.

The door made a whistling sound as it opened, and the cold clacking of shoes upon the floor, the sense of movement, caught his attention immediately. Shifting his eyes, to behold the pale English Doctor once again.

"You're awake. Good. You've been healing faster then I expected, you show amazing progress." A faint smile crossed his near bloodless lips. Remy found it slightly disquieting.

"Yea, well. Always did get well pretty quick. How long was I out? Couldn'ta been dat long, don't see no IV's or nothin.." Nor could he feel any puncture marks from where they would have gone into his skin. He was fairly sure he hadn't been out that long, a day or two perhaps? This man must be a miracle worker.

"You've been in an almost coma like sleep for almost a month while your wounds were tended. You were removed from IV's about five hours ago. When your brain activity began registering more then just dreams." A wave of his hand, as if it wasn't important, as if he was getting ready to launch into another subject.

Remy just frowned. Merde. A month? Don't feel like I been in a bed for a month. I was pretty busted up though, so guess dat makes sense. De shoulder fully healed from dat bullet too. Wonder how he got me to heal up so completely so fast. Musta been somet'ing dat he did. Sure, dat wound was healin pretty quick on it's own, but...

"A month? An what now, dat I got a bill a full health? I got one, yea?" A touch of suspicion touching his tones.

Essex just offered a faint smile. "A month. 27 days to be precise. Yes, you have a full bill of health. I must say, your mutation is quite impressive Mr. LeBeau."

Uncomprehending devils eyes looked at him. "Mutation? Ya mean dese devils eyes? Don't see not'ing impressive bout dem mon ami."

Essex smiled wider. It looked like he didn't do it often, it wasn't charming at all. Dis man really need ta visit charm school. He lacking in de social graces like woah. Pro'lly never gets no women either. Explains why he busy picking up injured people from crime scenes.

"Hardly, Mr. LeBeau. You're still blinking at the lights in the room, as if they were bright. If you look, really look, you will notice that the lights are currently on the dimmest setting they will go. I would wager you could see nearly perfectly in almost pitch darkness. However, that is not the mutation I am referencing. You are aware of what a mutant is, yes?"

"Uhh.. people wit' a sixth finger, or eyes like dese?" Remy was frowning at the man. What the hell was he talking about?

"Yes and no. Mutants, the next stage in evolution my young friend. People born with a leap in evolution, a gene called the X-Factor. That allows for things beyond human. Your incident with the explosions are part of your mutation. Judging from your brain activity levels when others are near you, you are also an empath. Remarkable as that is, there is far far more to you, Remy LeBeau."

"Dat so?" It was a quiet response, as those smouldering eyes observed the Doctor. He sounded pretty excited about his 'mutations' and Remy wasn't sure that was such a good thing; less it helped him control them.

"That is so. You are a massively powered controller of Kinetic Energy, LeBeau. Every movement you make, every touch of your body against something, or something against your body, results in you absorbing kinetic energy. Leaching the power of motion itself from the world around you. How your body uses that energy is simply astounding. Faster healing, superhuman agility, the explosions you've demonstrated. You have a highly refined spatial awareness, do you not?"

"Spatial awareness? Ya mean, sensing t'ings round me? Yeah.. always seem to know what's around me, when things moving. Always thought dat was true for most t'ieves."

A humorless chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure most of them wish they had your spatial awareness Mr. LeBeau. Yours transcends human capability, bridges into the Superhuman. You do not seem to grasp the magnificience of what you do. You can change kinetic energy, LeBeau. You can even charge potential energy into kinetic, in the odd process you demonstrated at the theater. Turning things into bombs."

"How I make it stop?" Nothing but pain had come from those explosive powers. Death. Worse, he remembered his panic sharply, just looking at things and watching them begin to charge up. Nothing could make the memories of seeing those people running from him begin to charge and burn when his powers took a hold of them too.

"Stop them? Oh, you can't LeBeau. You're simply too powerful for any of that kind of technique to work on you. However, I have devised a method to give you control of your powers. Your powers became awakened in reaction to stress, at their full power. You lack the control to handle this much power, but I have devised an operation that would lower your powers to controllable levels."

"Lower dem? Dat's all ya can do for me? I gonna be stuck wit' dese t'ings?" He made it sound like a curse.

Essex shook his head. "It is not a curse, young man. But a gift. You could do amazing things, amazing things indeed, with those abilities. Controllable, you could use them for whatever cause you wish – even atonement for your sins."

Remy just stared at the man, frowning. What decided him was when the pillow beneath his head began to sizzle and glow, and he quickly hurled it across the room, watching as it exploded searing the previously white walls with black char, ripping into the layers of that durable material. Metal? Metal walls in a hospital. Dat's weird. Shit. I can't control dis. Hope I making de right choice..

"D'accord. When can ya do it?"

"Oh, we can start now, Mr LeBeau."

Remy shivered, at the man. Not his look, but his eyes. There was a look of almost excitement in them. Merde, I gonna be dis mans guinea pig. Least if he was gonna dissect me he'd a done it when I was helpless, and not a threat to him. I hope.

When he awoke, it was in the hospital bed again. There was no bandage wrapped about him, but he could feel where the incision had been made along the back of his scalp. Already it was healed, but it still itched. Then again, what did already mean? Who knew how long he'd been out this time.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, LeBeau." The voice was the same, kind of, but not. It sounded like leather crumbling, a bone chilling voice. When his demonic eyes shifted, for the first time in his life he saw another pair of eyes similar to his own. It wasn't the eyes that caught his attention though. The man was tall, skin pure white, a red diamond in the middle of his forehead. When he smiled, his teeth looked sharp. And there was that odd blue body armor wrapped around him, and a cape that looked to be made of multiple self standing spans.

He felt his own face pale, and he swallowed hard. What kind of devil had he made a deal with?

".. ya... ya said ya name was Essex, not Satan.."

A cold laughter.

"My birth name was Nathaniel Essex, boy. The name I made my own was Sinister. Quit backing up in the bed, I will not harm you. A fall out of your bed would be undesirable. You are still weak from the operation, despite having five days to heal. It would hardly do for you to be delaying the promise of control I gave you."

For all the mans words, if he even was a man, Remy had the distinct feeling that Sinister wasn't interested in his good health for the same reasons Remy was. He wanted something, and it would just inconvenience him if he had to wait longer to get what he wanted.

Why dis always happen ta me? Bella, Julien, Candra, de theater. Now dis. Dis all my life gonna be, stumbling blindly from one disaster to de next? Never a lasting taste a happiness? Do I deserve dat, even if I could get it? De blood, it still on my hands. Been dere ever since de wedding... Belladonna. Mon amour. I miss you.

"Really LeBeau, there is no need for you to be crying. Pull yourself together, and follow me."

"Que?"

"I said follow me. It is time to learn."

"D'accord." He didn't see that he had much choice, as he pushed out of bed. Surprised his legs held his weight, surprised at the chill in him as he pulled his coat – or one that looked like his duster, off a coat hook and on. He didn't bother to wipe the tears away.

He wasn't ashamed of them, not tears for his Bella. She deserved them, and many more.

Training with Sinister had proven interesting, to say the least. The man spoke of physics like a physicist, but more, he spoke of the feelings, the knowledge of how to use Remy's own powers as if he himself possessed them. For weeks, Sinister guided Remy LeBeau through the motions of training. A thing that was full of surprises to the cajun thief.

The first had been in finding his accuracy, previously a finely honed skill that would put even the best to shame, was heightened now. Sinister said that it came from his powers exerting control over the kinetic energy, making his deadly aim into being able to perform stunts out of Robin Hood tales. He could land one throwing knife into the hilt of another now without too much effort. More to the point, he found he didn't even need to use objects balanced for throwing as a weapon. Toothpicks, books, even cards, he could throw with an amazing accuracy, his kinetic powers over-riding the laws of physics when he turned things into projectiles.

Which was to say nothing about his explosive abilities. He'd begun to understand that process now, knew how to enact it. He could charge something until its atomic structure couldn't withhold the destabilizing overabundance of kinetic charge, disintegrating whatever he charged. Or he could just turn objects into bombs – far more useful, that. Then there was his spatial awareness, always sharp before, now he could draw mental images of his surroundings, or could almost see with his eyes closed, in all directions. It was overwhelming at first, but oddly Sinister pushed for that as much as he did his combat-useful abilities.

Strangest of all, was the one thing Sinister pushed more then anything. Mental shields. Five times a day, the white skinned man-thing lead him through meditation in that cold chilling voice, guiding him through the process of raising mental shields to control his empathy. At first he thought perhaps it was gone – Sinister was himself a blank to his empathy, but when one of Sinister's assistants was seen on the fifth day of training, the emotions neverly overwhelmed Gambit. They weren't even strong emotions, just passive, but they shook him to his core.

Accompanying the shields, Sinister taught him to apply his Empathy to others. Not in receiving, but in twisting. Remy knew he'd always been charming, he'd always had people eating out of the palms of his hands. This went beyond that, and in his heart he shivered. Realizing he'd done this to people before. Not to this level, no, but that he'd used these powers on people before. Certainly on Candra. Who else had been caught in his sway without him ever realizing it?

Had Bella truly loved him, or had she loved him because he wanted her to? It left him tossing and turning at night, and he couldn't even ask the blond anymore – not now that she was dead.

Things went from tolerable, to intolerable quickly though. As his health regained itself, Sinister began including physical conditioning into his training. Remy had always accounted himself as a fine fighter – one of the best in either Guild. He'd bested Julien in fencing, and fencing was never one of his preferred weapons. But what Sinister put him through, it made the Guilds mixed martial arts style seem like a fond memory. Street fighting, martial arts, savate, staff fighting, knife fighting. All skills he had some, or considerably more then some knowledge in. Sinister seemed intent to make LeBeau a living master of every form of fighting the scientist could think of.

And Sinister was not a soft or gentle teacher. He was harsh, cruel, and he cared not a whit for bruises or injuries sustained in training unless they were major or hindered further training. Yet Sinister never seemed to care when Remy hurt one of the instructors Sinister seemed to draw out of almost no where. By accident or on purpose, he never even mentioned it. Disturbing indeed.

Yet the savate instructor made it slightly more tolerable then it otherwise would have been. A dark haired french woman, she laughed easily and was entirely too nice in comparison to the others who worked for Sinister. More to the point, she was one of the permanent presences. Before long, she stayed in his quarters instead of her own.

The stress relief provided by her presence was great, but he didn't fool himself anymore. She didn't love him, and if she did, it was because his powers made her feel that way because he subconsciously needed someone to love him. She was good in bed though, and warm arms around him made the nightmares about the past lessen. Remy didn't fool himself though. It wasn't safety, she wasn't safe. She was Sinister's creature, but she was warm, and touch was a theraputic thing in and of itself for the cajun.

What stung was that he no longer felt himself caring that a woman not his wife shared his bed. All of those vows were broken, Bella was dead, and if it would help him live through for his atonement; well. Then it was a necessary evil, and her lips tasted good. Rich plum colored full lips, that he found infinitely kissable.

As swiftly as it began though, it all fell away.

Five months, he spent under Sinister's tutelage. Until one day none of the instructors were to be found. Even Melaine with her dark hair and plum full lips had gone while he'd been asleep. Wandering aimlessly through Sinister's complex, he found the man in his lab working at a console.

"LeBeau."

"Sinister."

"You slept in today."

"Mel wasn't around t'wake me up. Where she an de ot'ers go?"

"Their time with you has come to an end, Remy. It is time for your atonement, and your repayment of your debt to me to begin."

Remy felt his lips tightening. One thing he'd become fairly sure of, was that Sinister probably didn't have the best of agendas; but so far the man hadn't stepped outside of his offers to the cajun. He'd done everything he said he would. Rescued him from authorities, gave him control of his powers, put him into better shape then he'd ever been in his life. The only man who'd ever done as much for him had been Jean-Luc.

Wonder what de old man be saying bout dis guy? Prolly ta not trust him any further den I could throw him.

"D'accord." He realized Sinister was waiting for a response, so he gave him one.

"Excellent. There are a number of others like yourself, Free Agents if you will, who are not fully aware of their capabilities. I can help them, as I have helped you. You will go to them, and bring them into my service. Do you understand?"

"Oui. Ya want me to recruit a buncha mutants for ya, and bring dem back to you. Anyt'ing I should be using on de sale? Salary? Room an board? Job occupation?" Remy inquired lightly. Maybe Sinister would finally give something of his plans away. It was a small hope, but it was a hope the cajun often found himself holding too. He still had no idea what this scientist was after, and with a name like Sinister it doubtlessly wasn't pleasant.

"Offer them what you need to. A salary up to 100 grand a year, living accommodations, help with their powers, so forth."

Frowning, Remy nodded, as Sinister handed him a number of folders. Then handed him a wallet – his own he realized, complete with his own id, but now there were new credit cards in there, and a good deal of cash.

"Ya giving me free reign on dis? Not going to come wit', or watch me while I do it?"

Sinister laughed, that laugh that grated on him so much. "No. You will hold to paying back your debts, Remy LeBeau, and you are a charmer. Now come. We are still in Seattle, I will show you the exit and entrance you may use to these facilities when you bring them back to me – one at a time. Take the time you need, but do not fail."

Remy found himself shivering, and slipped the files into his coats inner pockets – he still thought it must be his refitted. Or a very good imitation. It had all of the inner pockets and hidey holes his old duster had had. Without realizing he, he found he was patting the telescoping adamantim bo-staff in it's pocket, as if it might protect him.

Freedom. That's what the open road was, the wind gusting through his hair while he blazed down the high way going over 90 miles an hour. He'd aquired the Harley off Sinister's money, and he was on his way to Dallas Texas. The air was hot, even the wind was hot, but he was enjoying the sun beating down on his face, even if it still stung at his eyes some. Even with the shades, he found his eyes still hadn't fully adapted to sunlight again. Oddly, his tan wasn't lacking at all. Sinister must use some pretty hefty lights to accomplish that.

Well, best he get started on this. As the exit showed up ahead, he pulled off onto the ramp, losing speed. Philippa Sontag was the name of the woman he was after in this particular town. She ran a gym, of some sort, and was into body building. A vet of some kind, the files said. She was big on strength.

When he finally found the address – after stopping for a beer, some food, it was to laugh to himself as he studied the building. It looked like something out of the 60's more then a modern day fitness center. Old school, apparently. With a shrug, he slipped off his bike, pulled his duster out of his saddle bag, and slipped it on. Even in the warm Texas afternoon, Remy found there was often a chill in him that sun or fire didn't dispel. Sinister had muttered something about kinetic transference when he'd asked, but he hadn't understood a damn thing the pale man had explained to him, beyond the kinetic energy constantly being absorbed or moved by his body left him feeling a light chill.

"Whatcha want, prettyboy?"

Remy blinked, he hadn't expected an immediate greeting when he'd slipped in the doors. The place seemed empty, the only person there was a woman sitting on a counter, drinking from a coffee cup. She was well built – better built then he was even, and she had a grin the likes of which he wasn't used to seeing on a womans face. She wasn't precisely beautiful, just pretty. With purple hair, well toned body. Bountiful full breasts, she was kind of tall. 5'8" he knew from the file. Her stomach and thighs seemed to be her most sexually attractive feature to her, which Remy was all too happy to feast his eyes on. Melaine just hadn't been enough, and a day or two of travelling... Judging from her greeting, she must've thought he was a model or something.

Heh. Couldn't be more wrong, femme. But I jus' have to teach you dat over de next few days, non?

"De names Remy. Was lookin for a place ta work out, maybe a place ta stay. New in town, and don't like t'be wit'out a place to stay in shape."

That got a chuckle from her, but she grinned even more lecherously. "Kind of forward, ain't ya kid? You look pretty scrawny to me, unless that coats a lot baggier then it looks."

Remy just smiled lavishly at her, and slipped out of his trench coat. The black shirt he wore was tight, showing off chiseled muscles. Not to the extent of hers, but very impressive considering his body was naturally built for speed more then strength. Tall and lean, Gambit knew he was sin walking to most people, and the way he shifted and grin was a sin in and of itself.

Just for kicks, he leaned his head forward, to let his shades drop down his nose, revealing devils eyes smouldering at her.

It earned a reaction not like quite what he was expecting. She gasped, and hopped off her counter, crossing the room to look right into those eyes. Hook. Line. Sinker.

Six hours later, after sating his hunger, and then his other hunger, he found himself laying in her bed. A cigarette curled lazily in his left hand, as his right hand stroked her purple hair. She was rough, but it'd just transferred to him being more energetic. Physical things, forces, just reinvigorated him. A benefit of his powers, and Philippa had been all to eager to have him. He was fairly glad he'd been of like mind, because he wasn't entirely sure he could've stopped her if he hadn't shared her opinion. She hadn't showed it yet, but the file indicated her strength went far beyond the normal.

Occasionally, she murmured in her sleep, shifting so that her purple tresses tickled at his bare chest. What was he going to be getting this woman into? Somehow though, he didn't feel any guilt. Not this time. There'd already been glimpses of her personality. She was a woman on the edge. She had at least a good 10 years on him, and had seen active duty military service in a hot zone somewhere. It left it's mark on her. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Remy didn't know, he just knew the woman was hurting inside.

A week later, Remy found himself cooking breakfast. Again, smoking while he did so. Philippa oddly didn't seem to mind his habit, and even occasionally stole one of his cigs and took a few drags. Clad in just his boxers, he was flipping eggs when he sensed and then heard the rustling of Sontag out of the bedroom they shared.

"So cajun, why are you here?"

"T'cook some breakfast. Need de protien after whatcha did ta me last night." He turned his head to wink at her, and lick his lips. Maybe she was only pretty instead of beautiful, but she was a forceful demon in the sack.

"Don't feed me that crock, Remy. People like you don't just drift into a womans life unless their after something. You're sin incarnate, you could lead a nun so far into temptation she'd never turn back, and you know it. You're not just some college kid spending the summer traveling and saving expenses by hooking up with a lonely woman. You're different. Special."

Why'd she have to stare at his eyes when she said it? Damnit Sontag. I ain't ready to go dere wit' you yet. Wanted dis to last a little longer.

With a sigh, Remy just shrugged. "Mebbe dat so. You special too though, chere."

There was nervous laughter in response to his statement. "Purple hair doesn't make me special, Remy."

"Non. But ya strength does, don' it chere? Ya hide it real well, doubt others even notice it. But ya get a little careless in de sack, especially when ya hitting de high notes. Wasn't for my own ..special talents.. ya would hurt me pretty bad a time or fifty by now." That smouldering grin crossing his lips with the words, the one that stirred desire in woman's hearts. It wasn't arrogance that he thought it, not anymore. He knew it for a fact, his empathy registered reactions like that without much thought, whenever he let his shields weaken to perceive emotions around him.

".. how.. did you know? I haven't told anyone." Now she was angry, and turned on. Dangerous combination, as affection and lust warred in her with her anger. He wasn't sure even his powers would afford him protection if she really let loose.

"I work for a man. He helped me wit' my abilities. Taught me how ta control dem, an den give me a job working for him. Good pay, good place ta live. Adventure, excitement, and not having to worry if a mob gonna turn on me at a moments notice cuz I'm some 'demon spawn'. Ya seen de news? Nother year or two, dere gonna be a lot of forces coming against people like us, cherie. I be here ta recruit ya, but was hopin ya take longer t'get to dis questioning.. been joying myself."

He could feel her anger melt away, with a rising of resentment for being mislead, but as he stepped from the stove – turning the range off as he did so, it began to fade as well as she looked into his eye.

Later, when they both lay sweaty and panting, she bit him on the shoulder, laughed, and climbed back atop him. Before proceeding though, she ruffled his hair like he was a boy. He hated when she did that.

"I'll come with you, Remy."

One down. Sinister had been pleased at how eager Sontag – although before he'd left, she'd already been calling herself Arclight, had been to join up with him. Although she'd been disappointed at finding out Remy would be hitting the road alone again almost as soon as he'd dropped her off. He'd felt a waft of jealous from her, but he gave her a kiss and got back on his bike. It wasn't like he loved her, and he was damn sure she didn't care for him that way. She just wanted his body.

At least she never pretended differently.

He was also beginning to see a pattern in these first two he'd been sent after. Military experience. Also, the south. Sinister appeared to like the south. Texan, Cajun, and now he was being sent after a native american who dwelled in a podunk little town – if it could even be called that, in Arizona.

Millstone Arizona, pop 1249. Just wonderful. Dis gonna be de most boring shit I ever done. He faught the sigh, as he hopped off his bike as he pulled into the only gas station in town. If it could even be called a town. Filling up his bike, he then pulled it around to be parked in front of the diner portion of the gas station. One of those large – at least in this hellhole, buildings split down the middle between convenience store/gas station, and a diner. Looked like that was a garage next to the place too.

Probably all owned by the same guy, if he had to guess.

Slipping in, he paid for the gas, then wandered on over to the diner, stopping when he crossed into it to eye the woman behind the counter. Sun darkened skin, Spanish descent in her blood if he had to guess, with brown eyes and almost jet black hair. A little lacking in the chest, and legs, but she was still an alluring creature. Heh. Den again, what woman ain't I found alluring dese days? Hell, dis femme got probably 20 years on me, but dat don't mean much.

Readjusting his sunglasses, he strode to take a seat at the nearly empty counter, flashing that welcoming smile to the woman as she came over. Before she could even ask what he wanted, he'd smiled, eyed her name tag and offered a hand.

"De name is Remy, Clare. Pleasure t'meet ya. Just passin through Millstone while looking for someone. Mebbe ya can help me, chere?" As she went to shake his hand, his hand took hers and raised it to kiss her hand softly. He could feel her heart pulsing even faster from just that contact. He was getting better at this.

"Aren't you cocky? You're still wet behind the ears, boy, but maybe I'll break you in... Who's the friend you looking for? Don't know too many people in Millstone who have friends with the kind of money those sunglasses you're wearing, or that Harley your driving, say you have."

Remy just grinned, pulled out a smoke, light it with his zippo, and ran the fingers that still held her hand against her skin, before reluctantly letting go. He didn't want to cause too much of a scene. Not yet, anyway. Exhibitionism was never a good idea in small towns. At least she didn't wear a wedding ring, so there'd be no jealous husbands like there'd been in the last town he'd stopped at.

"Ya sure chere? Looks, dey be deciving. Might be a case of learning something new yaself... but I be looking for a homme named John Greycrow."

He wasn't expecting her to laugh. In response to either of his comments. She just grinned a cat ate the canary look at him, looked him up and down, then laughed again. It was a warm sound, and he knew he wouldn't need to even ask about a hotel room after that laugh.

"Greycrow is out in the desert. Some ritual or a hunt or something like that, he does it every few months. It's why the garage is closed down. Well, if you know Greycrow, you're welcome here Remy. You find a place to stay yet?"

"Glad t'hear dat, an non. I ain't. Just got into town a moment ago. Don't look like dere be a hotel here..." He already knew what was coming, but her smile made it all the more obvious.

"There isn't one. I can put you up until Greycrow comes back though." Remy was certain that play on words had been entirely intentional.

Her name was Clare de Luc, and she had taught him new things. Just as he'd taught her a few himself. The week waiting for Greycrow to arrive had been spent in wonderful company, and the nights were hot and not because it was Arizona in summer. She was the kind of woman who would've been his friend even if he wasn't sleeping with her, Clare. Easy going, bright, and easy to just talk to. Despite their age difference, he found he enjoyed being around her, even if the podunk status of Millstone prevented them having much of a night time social life outside of the towns sole bar.

She hadn't cared about his eyes, either.

But like all things, Greycrow returned. Upon meeting him, Remy wasn't sure what to think of the man. A large native american, but he had ex-military written all over him in his bearing. A stern face, but one that was quick to break into laughter when he made a joke. John Greycrow was the first man he'd met since he left New Orleans that he felt could warrant the name of friend.

Three weeks more, he spent in Millstone. Whiling the time away with Clare and Greycrow. Occasionally him and John went out 'hunting' as he called it. Which Remy found out actually meant treasure hunting, not tracking any kind of game. Still it was enjoyable time spent with Greycrow, and the proceeds that they made all went to helping Clare keep Millstone afloat. He'd never realized it, but the sexy chere he spent his nights with was the current mayor of the town.

It had to come to an end, though. This end wasn't quite the same as the one with Arclight had been though. Clare was asleep, she'd tried to drink the two of them under the table and got ahead of herself. She was already up in the bed.

"So LeBeau, you've hinted you came for my tracking skills. You ain't never made a offer to me yet though, or even said what kind of job we're talking about. You're forgetting the job, getting distracted by the fun of just being here with me an Clare. That speaks well of ya, but you still got a job to do if I ain't guessing wrong."

Remy felt himself sobering, and then sighing. He really wasn't sure he wanted to leave Millstone, not yet, but.. Sinister would be waiting.

"Yea, well. You right. Been a while since I met a femme like Clare. Ain't gonna like leaving her, Grey Crow. But guess it's bout dat time. Ya know I'm a mutant, and I seen ya use your powers to jury rig t'ings more'n a few times now. Man I work for, he gathering mutants. Help dem wit' dere powers, get control, give a solid job an dat stuff. Scientist type, he seem ta be pretty protective of mutants."

"Guy got a name?"

"Oui. His name be Essex."

Gray Crow laughed then, a chortling laugh and he just nodded. "I know Essex. I worked for him on a few jobs about 10 years back. Wasn't bad work, wouldn't mind doing it again. Always wondered if he'd just forgotten about me and left me to rot in Millstone."

"Well shit, dat was easier den I figured."

"I bet. We leave in the morning then?"

"Oui. I better go get packed, and make my good byes to Clare."

"Cajun?" "Yea?"

"Don't get sappy with her. She's a strong woman. Be straight, say good bye, and have your good bye screw. She's known you'd leave her since the day you rode in. She'll miss you, but she won't try and cling." He sounded like he had some authority on the subject, or had seen it with her before. Remy just shrugged, and moved to stumble up the stairs.

Grey Crow had tooken to Essex easily enough, they had worked together before he'd said, and it was obvious. That was good, because John was a friend. The next one wasn't going to be so easy though.

The most of the rest weren't too hard to convince either. A little charm, money, the usual promises as he conned them into following him back to Sinister. Seven down. Scrambler, Scalphunter, Riptide, Prism, Harpoon, Blockbuster, Arclight. The last two were a different story.

Primarily because the eight one was a man he wanted to kill. He'd gotten into an argument with Sinister over this one. Victor Creed, Sabretooth, was a remorseless brutal killer. A savage. Sinister had insisted. Remy caved.

That was how he found himself in a bar in Canada, buying drinks for a large brutish man who was grinning at him a sick demented grin. Occasionally Creed would barb him about their encounter in Paris, when he'd earned his Master of the Craft mark with a heist for a diamond. It hadn't ended well.

"Dat's de way it is, Creed. Money, ya get to do what ya do best, long as ya listen to de boss."

"Or I could just gut you, cajun. After what you pulled in Paris.."

"I de one dat should be saying dat, mon ami. You de one who killed my femme. All I did was steal a baubble."

Creed growled, but then he smirked. Remy already knew what he was thinking, just based on his emotions. He was thinking he could harm Remy by going along with the plan, surely there'd be more 'frails' as he'd call them, that he could gut to get at Remy.

Poor fool don't realize he's going ta work for Sinister. If dere anyone I don't feel bad about tricking into dis, it be you Creed. If dere any justice in dis world, you gonna step wrong wit' Sinister, and he gonna snuff you out like a candle.

The two men stared daggers at eachother, then downed their beers.

"Fine, yer got yerself a deal cajun. But when the deals over? I'm going to gut you good."

"Ya welcome to try. I ain' easy meat no more."

Eight down. The last one. Well. Wasn't as much of a challenge as it was just difficult to meet her. Sinister himself had had to arrange this meeting, and it was from Sinister's transport he descended into the antarctic snows, and a woman in white and green, with green hair, stood waiting to meet him.

A thumb jerked at the transport, an eyebrow arched. He didn't want to exerpience this cold for long. She seemed to share his opinion, because she nodded. Once both were aboard, he shut the hatch and discarded the shades and heavy hat that'd kept his ears warm.

The woman was exotic. More exotic then any he'd ever seen. Green hair that was streaked with white, green eyes. She was a bit short, or at least, average. But her body made his throat go dry. Once she slipped out of the green bulky jackets, she was in a skin tight bodysuite, still revealing the effects the cold had had upon her.

"Tres belle. You be exquisite, chere." He offered with a bow, complimenting her. To his surprise, she blushed and actually stammered a little bit, as if unsure how she should respond to that. Had no one ever flirted with her before?

"Vertigo, not Cher." She corrected him when she got over herself, and Remy found himself nodding. Isolationist mutant, perhaps? The file on her was .. rather lacking. A picture, and a description of her abilities. That was all. Remy knew how to lure this one though. The blush had given it all away.

"Ya want something to drink while we talk?" He offered, while getting himself a soda from the stocked mini-fridge. Which surprised him, but then Essex probably had anticipated the way in which he'd go about handling Vertigo. That was the only real explanation he could think of. There was good wine in there too..

"No, thank you. What do you want, that is so important you come here for?"

Remy smiled, letting his unhidden eyes slide over her – quickly, can't come on too strong this time. Then back to her face, meeting those beautiful green eyes. She was beautiful, the most beautiful of all the women he'd met on this little trek of Sinister's. He nodded to the seats, and when she opted for one of the long bench seats, he joined her, but with space between them.

"Well Vertigo, if I'd known how beautiful ya was, I'da come down here a long time ago. No one ever told me dat de Arctic held such treasures as you." His voice light, not too heavy. Just enough to begin to snare her, to catch her with the charm. To twist at her curiosity, and turn it into the beginnings of a crush on him.

Which she didn't seem to know, not for sure, how to handle. My lord. She an innocent. She ain't never been wit' a man, if just a little flirting is getting to her. She even squirming subconsciously now, as if she ain't never had anyones eyes flickering over her. Mostly lower body. Poor petite, doubt she ever even felt de flames of want burning dere before...It be warm enough in here dat dem nipples shouldn't be hard still, but dey are. Sometimes Essex, working for you ain't so bad.

He'd like to say he'd hate himself in the morning, as he deftly conned her, with words and his powers. Lightly twisting that crush into something deeper, into love, into lust, into desire. It took him perhaps a half hour of just chit chatting and flirting, and she never seemed to even think about getting impatient about him not getting to the point.

He did get to the point, so to speak, some time later. After he'd helped her peel that skin tight suit off her skin, and they made use of the bench couch. He'd been right, she'd been pure. Been. Not any longer. He'd stole that from her as deftly as he'd ever stolen any jewels or paintings.

Even while flying the transport, he dwelled on the fact he'd never seen thighs so pale as hers, and the mental image of those legs wrapped around him burned in his head, or how firm her rear had felt in his hands, or the burning fire her kisses had imparted to his lips. Or the way painfully erect nipples had carved against his chest while they lay together, feeling like they'd cut into his body. She was a forbidden flower, one he had plucked. One that he would pluck again, and frequently, if he had his say.

On the long flight back to Essex's headquarters, he began to feel guilty. To ease his guilt, he helped Vertigo join the mile high club. Soon after, there was no more time for guilt, because there was Sinister. Vertigo didn't even have the decency to be afraid of him, instead she just clutched to his arm and nuzzled his shoulder.

Sinister just nodded, as if it'd been expected.

"Come with me, Vertigo. We must go through some details before you can get situated."

"Can't I stay with Remy?"

"You can be with Mr. LeBeau after we have finished running a few tests."

"Oh. Okay." "Straight ahead, the door with a red triangle above it."

As Vertigo walked away, Sinister eyed Remy, and it made Gambit minorly uncomfortable. "Well done, LeBeau, if you over-did it some. She's a bit too deeply in love with you, but that may be to our benefit. She would follow you anywhere."

"Yea, well, you said get dem all. I got dem all."

"Indeed. You did. You may retreat to your quarters. When I have finished running my tests, I will send Vertigo and Arclight to join you. Tomorrow, you will meet your new team all together, and beginning learning to handle them."

Merde! My team? What, he expects me to lead dese bunch of miscreants and nutjobs? Oy. An he's going .. to send dem to my quarters? Both of dem? What, paying me off like a good little puppy with a doggy treat cuz I performed well? Don't like dis at all.

All he said though was a light "D'Accord" with a nod of his head.

"And LeBeau? You need to chose a code name. The others already had them, or have been given them. I will allow you to chose your own."

Remy frowned as Sinister strode away. The implications.. 'allow'? Remy didn't like the tone of that, but he owed the man. He'd made a deal with the devil.

Lord help him. At least he'd get more time with Vertigo.. and Arclight. Both at the same time. The cajuns frown was gone, by the time he slipped into his quarters.

Authors Note: And here begins the reasoning for many of the Marauders have major loathing and hatred for Remy. Not only did he use his powers on most of them, but he is also Sinister's favorte. Accorded rights as a person, instead of just a belonging – which will become more evident next chapter.

No, he wasn't heroic this chapter, in fact he was mostly villainous. The way he used his empathy to get them to do what they want, or made Vertigo fall in love with him because it was just simple. My explination for why I made this clear – perhaps more worse then it was in the comics, will be explained in future chapters, when Remy is with the X-men.

Yes, he's burning through women like he does cigarettes, yes, he still hasn't actually coped with Belladonna's death. This is his avoidance mechanism, his way of delaying having to deal with it.