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Chapter Four
"Dis," Remy announced to the world at large, including any incredibly nosy psychics that happened to be listening in. "Is tres uncool." Sometime between his arrival and the current time, his usual outfit had vanished to be replaced with a pair of sweats. Just as well, it had been more or less ruined anyway.
Resisting the urge to pout, the thief leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. His red on black eyes going distant as he considered his current predicament. No doubt about it, this was not of the good. Not at all.
Gambit huffed, one hand coming up to jerk ineffectively at his neck. Damn this thing, it itched. Not to mention, the metal power restraining collar felt far heavier than it had any right to be. The Cajun figured that was probably just his imagination. A figment of his not so normal mind, but then sanity was overrated.
Still, while insanity was one thing, stupidity was quite another. It went without saying that Remy had been planning his escape since the moment Sabertooth had dragged his half frozen carcass through the tesseract portal. Okay, maybe half a second after that. The point remained.
However, it seemed the opportune moment had come and passed. Needless to say, Gambit had missed it. Hence, his presence here. The young man sighed, once again examining his accommodations in the unlikely event he had missed something useful. Nope, the room (cough:cell:cough) was just as he remembered it.
Eight by twelve feet, with some sort of fungus growing along the ceiling. The plant giving off a bioluminescent glow. A futon was neatly folded in one corner next to a stack of books. Remy's favorite authors of course, and how disturbing was it that Sinister knew who his favorite authors were.
There was also a small bathroom built into one corner, much to the thief's relief. Though the thief wasn't sure whether it was an irritation or a blessing that the pipes were clearly too small to crawl through. It prevented him from having to make unpleasant decisions.
Speaking of his newly discovered Father, the man had been by only once. It hadn't been much of a conversation. Essex had asked how he was. Remy had replied with a comment that the room lacked something, followed by inquiring if the man would let him out if he promised to behave himself. Sinister had laughed, saying that he wasn't foolish enough to take Gambit at his word. Smart man. And that was that, though the encounter did beg the question of when the other was going to let him out. It had been more than a week already.
Remy sighed again, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. In spite of what an outside observer would believe, Sinister wasn't trying to cause him any undue discomfort. His surroundings weren't meant to unnerve him or anything. It was just that the doctor didn't trust him not to escape given the slightest opportunity.
The barrenness of the room was akin to a backhanded compliment. The light from the weird fungus stuff was more than enough for Gambit's sensitive eyes to see by. Besides, the mutant had endured far, far worse conditions during his childhood. For one thing, this room was heated.
Speaking of, why had he ended up on the streets? Remy made a mental note to ask his Father sometime. Given the lengths Sinister had taken to keep him close over the years, there was no way he hadn't wanted him. If he had been adopted by anyone less influential than Jean-Luc Lebeau, Essex probably would have just snatched him back. Something must have happened.
At least he wouldn't starve, the Cajun considered, his thoughts turning back to the matter at hand. He glanced over at his untouched plate. He had been to five star restaurants that served worse cuisine. For a moment Remy stared at the meal before rolling into a sitting position. He wasn't really hungry, but the young man knew better than to turn down food when it was offered. You never knew when you would eat next.
Evidently pork chops were the order of the day. Remy preferred seafood, but that was the one thing he wasn't served. Yes, he had asked after the third day. Sinister seemed to be worried he would open his collar using a crab claw or something. Which, the Cajun admitted to himself, he probably would. Picking up the oddly shaped silverware (also designed in order to foil the thief's plans) he began to eat.
Remy's mind was only half on his task, letting his body go through the motions of the familiar task while his thoughts were occupied with more important things. There had to be a way out of this. He was the prince of thieves damn it all, and there wasn't a lock on this earth he couldn't pick, given enough time. Clink, his square-shaped knife made an odd sound as it impacted the middle of the pork.
Clink? Gambit wondered. Now that was an odd sound, all things considered. A faint frown crossed his face as he picked the meat up, examining it from all angles. It took a moment for him to realize exactly what he was seeing. Once he did, his red on black eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't gristle running through the middle of the pork, it was bone.
A feral grin crossed Remy's face, all thoughts of eating disappearing entirely. Stripping the meat off, he examined his prize. It was better than he had thought actually. The bone was long and thin, but still a little blunt on the ends. However, the thief asserted to himself. He could fix that.
And fix it he did, as several hours later the Cajun had a very serviceable lock pick. Which Remy immediately put to use, the click as his collar unlocked was a beautiful sound. His powers returned to him in a rush, including his empathic abilities. Something the thief was grateful for.
As annoying as Gambit sometimes found them, he always felt blind and deaf when they were off. They were a part of him, as vital as his eyes. His grin widened, the skin around his cheeks actually starting to hurt. Phase One, he thought to himself, complete. Now all he had to do was wait. Yes, things certainly were looking up.
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