It had been a month since the government had first begun their attack on the mutant race. Fortunately all their careful planning and months of preparation was all for not, because of one little mutant thief who managed to stumble across the classified information and warn many of the targets. The X-men had escaped as did X-Factor and X-Force and a large number of other mutant established groups. Soon a sort of underground rail road had been born and it wasn't long before all the mutants who had been forced to flee their hide outs and bases had found a common sanctuary and headquarters for their operations. It was an abandoned saw mill, long since forgotten, that they set up shop, originally discovered by Magneto years ago. With both Magneto and his followers working side by side with Xavier and his, the old, worn factory remained so in it's outward appearance, but inside and down below, new chambers were created, rooms to sleep in, kitchens, laboratories, a medical ward, a conference room and several other lounge like areas. It was almost remarkable how quickly the structure was built, a maze of underground tunnels and levels, resembling an ant farm. It was set up similar to the Morlock tunnels but more advanced like Magneto's asteroid M. Many of the mutants had made daring recover missions back to their original bases and homes, managing to salvage anything from cloths and furniture to weapons, and high-tech computers and technology. Risking the possibility of capture to bring these necessities back to "Camelot," the code name for their new base. The name had been decided by Xavier and Magneto, who both related it back to a favorite novel, "The Once and Future King."
It was here in this new sanctuary that the first conference of the, "United Mutant Liberation Force", was held. The large conference room was packed as mutants that had once fought each other as enemies, now stood side by side, all be it uncomfortably, prepared to hear the two leaders speak. On a metal stage area, Magneto stood next to Professor Xavier, who had just gotten his shiar hover chair returned to him after a recent recover mission back to the mansion. Eric Lensuir, placed one hand on his old friends shoulder, happy to be working together but regretting the circumstances. He lifted the other to motion for silence. It took a few moments, but eventually the room hushed, and he stepped forward to speak.
"My brothers and sisters!……….I am relieved that after such a chaotic past few weeks, so many of you could make the journey to our new sanctuary. I am grieved by the lose we have suffered as a community, but rejoice that at last we are united in our efforts. No longer shall we fight amongst our selves!………Despite past differences, we must learn to work together, to watch over each other, to keep our ears to the ground and be willing to fight for one another……..I am sure all of you know one mutant or another that has gone missing or was blatantly captured during the attacks. It is our top priority as the United Mutant Liberation Force, to rescue our captive comrades and deliver them from what ever prison they have been confined to. We are fortunate enough to have been given a list of probable mutant prisons or internment camps, all located in desolate locations all around North America." A large projector displayed the down loaded computer files against the wall behind him. "This list was provided to us by the same brave and courageous individual, who discovered the governments plane of attack and warned so many of us just in time." He paused and looked to Charles who's head dropped slightly. "Many of you may know him as Gambit, a member of the X-Men. Whether you have fought against this man or along side him, he dissevers our extreme gratitude ……. Unfortunately, like many of our other brother's and sisters, he was taken prisoner by the army, and his whereabouts have yet to be discovered." Eric stopped as Charles moved forward with wet eyes, looking out over the see of faces, many of which he knew.
"Gambit, not only retrieved the vital information of the attacks just before they happened, but he also sacrificed himself so that his team mates could escape…….With out his selflessness,……..many of us would not be here to day!………….In the next several months we will be recruiting as many of you as possible to go on missions to these various listed prison sights, in the hopes of liberating our mutant brethren." He paused and cleared his throat, this next part would be hard to say. "It is more then likely possible that these individuals will have suffered some form of mental and physical torture at the hands of their captors." Before he could continue the crowd broke into angry murmurs and disgusted sighs. Xavier waited for them to become silent once more. "I tell you this only to prepare you for what we may discover. Those who have undergone such treatment, will no doubt be affected, and most likely will need a great deal of support and help from those who care for them. When on these missions, one might find those they are trying to help acting delusional. They may prove to be dangerous to them selves or others and should be handled with great caution." The Professor nodded to Beast who was operating the projector. A picture of Gambit was up on the screen, his demonic eyes laughing and his smile slight and mischievous. A mixture of sounds came from the diverse crowd. " This is a picture of Gambit, aka, Remy LeBeau, also known in some circles as Le Dible Blank……When he offered to remain at the mansion so that the X-men could make our escape, I implanted a mind swipe, to be activated only under dire circumstances, that would occur if he said a certain key word. This mind swipe would temporarily erase all his memories as well as basic knowledge of his skills, leaving him in a type of catatonic state, unresponsive and unreachable to those with out telepathy. I am informing you all of this, simply to prepare those of you that know him and those of you that don't as to what to expect upon finding him……..Please, keep your ears open to any mention of his name, and be aware of what condition he as well as all the others may be in when the rescue missions begin……..Thank you all for your time!" The Professor moved back and Magneto once again stepped forward.
"The first rescue mission will be in one week!……Those who wish to volunteer should sign up. First meeting to discuses tactics will be tomorrow at 01:00 hours!………Questions will be taken then. This meeting is adjourned." Eric turned to Xavier and whispered to his friend, staring him directly in his eyes, "We shall find him Charles,…..do not fear."
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Gambit opened his swollen, burning eyes, still stinging from the pepper spray he received the day before when he fought back against the guards, braking one's nose. The lights had come on in his cell, blinding pain shot threw his watering eyes. His lips were chapped and split, puffy and bruised, dry blood rested on his chin and in the corners of his mouth. He made no effort to move his pain filled body as he heard the familiar sound of the morning guards foot steps echoing in the long hall. He had lost count now, how many days he had been at the facility and how many times he felt the overwhelming desire to beg for mercy, cry out like a child and sing like a canary, telling them any thing they wanted to here. However his loyalty to his amies and his stubborn pride prevented him from succumbing to his weakness. He had come close to uttering the secret word on a number of occasions. The word that would ensure the safety of the X-men and other mutants. But still he hesitated, clinging to the diminishing hope that one day they would find him, and he could burry all the pain and humiliation of this time and get on with his life, just as he had so many times before.
The guard unlocked his cell and walked up to him with in inches, an electric tazer in one hand and a leash in the other.
"You gonna be a good boy today freak?……Or am I gonna have to beat you into submission?" The guard chuckled sadistically as the man before him lay silently on the cot, not offering even the slightest sign of acknowledgement, though inwardly he was shuddering. "Just wait till next week when it's my turn to run the night shift!………You won't be so quiet then!……..I'll have you on your hands and knees screaming like a little bitch!" he whispered, his rank breath hot on Remy's face. With a wink and a laugh, he clicked the leash into place on the collar around Remy's neck, suppressing his mutant powers. With a harsh yank, he pulled the weary man off the cot, practically dragging him out of the cell, before Gambit could get to his feet. His wrists were bound together by tight, painful metal wires that were rarely taken off. They had threatened that if he picked the lock to his cell one more time, they would dislocate both his shoulders and brake his wrists and fingers, shoving him in a strait jacket and tightening it till his ribs snapped. He gritted his teeth as he glanced down at the shadow of the man to his left. He couldn't help but fight the urge to kick him in the throat. One solid strike to the jugular and Remy could make a brake for it. He sighed and closed his eyes as he walked the all too familiar rout to the showers. Wait it out, bide your time. Hit them when they least expect it. After yesterdays attempt at resistance he was nearly blinded. He couldn't afford to be reckless, not now.
The only cloths he was permitted to wear was a lose pair of thin gray cotton paints, that hung low on his narrow hips. They had been feeding him less and less as he refused to cooperate, hoping that they could starve him into talking. However after a childhood on the streets with nothing to eat but table scraps and whatever he could find in a trash can, starvation didn't bother him as much. He was decorated with bruises, burns and abrasions from head to toe, and his mop of auburn hair was sweaty and matted over his eyes. Yet despite his disheveled appearance, and obvious pain when walking, he still held his head up high, managing to retain some form of dignity.
The guard led him to a shower area, where four more guards waited, all heavily armed, standing in a circle and laughing about something.
"So, I'm looking at this fucking mutie chick, maybe 15 or 16 at most, and she's crying and wailing and begging me to let her go. Now keep in mind, the General's off doing some-fucking-thing and told me to keep an eye on the little freak. So I say , "Suck my cock and we'll talk about it!" The men laugh again, slapping him on the back.
"So what'd she do?" An equally disgusting soldier asked.
"She starts going for it!" He laughs.
"Did she suck it?"
"Are you kidding!……No way!…..You never know what fucking mutie disease you can catch from those things!……….So she jerked me off instead, and I cumbed in her face!" They all laughed again as they turned to face Gambit and the other guard. Remy's jaw was locked and his breath heavy. It took every thing in him not to lung forward and choke the guard telling the story. That girl would be traumatized for life and they thought it was funny. She was so young, Christ, he could have been talking about Jubilee! The sudden thought brought a wave of nausea in him and he quickly pushed the image away. The guard that had been leading him, undid the leash, as another stepped up and undid the wire around his wrist. As it came off, Remy couldn't help but release a small hiss of pain. The wire had cut into his wrist deeply and there were purplish red rings around each. The guard didn't seem to notice or care as he stepped away again.
"Okay mutie,…..you know the drill!…….Lose the paints and get into the shower!" Another guard sighed. Remy did as he was told and striped down, feeling the eyes of the first guard all over him. It was moments like this that he was glade his empathy was suppressed so he could only speculate what disgusting feelings the man had for him. It wasn't that he was opposed to gay sex, being a very sexually liberated individual, it was the idea of rape that made his stomach cramp up and his body shake. He had dealt with it enough in his life that he was almost desensitized to it, excepting it along with what ever other torture they trough his way. But still, there was something sick and twisted in the way the guard always looked at him that made his skin crawl.
The shower stall was clear so they could watch him, but that wasn't his main concern. He stepped in dreading what he knew would come next. A sudden serge of hot water, almost scolding in temperature was released on him, and he made a conscious effort not to through himself at the door trying to escape the burning sensation the way he had the first time. This only lasted a minute or so before the water stopped. Remy then covered his eyes, nose and mouth as the sting of the anti -biotic chemical vapors were flooded into the sealed booth. He knew from experience that it burned to breath and hurt his eyes. He gritted his teeth as his open cuts screamed as if covered in lemon juice. Finally the last stage was a bombardment of icy wind that blew so hard he couldn't help but hug himself shivering. The automatic lock was released on the door and the painfully clean Cajun stepped out, putting on a fresh pair of gray paints. The guards laughed at him asking if he enjoyed the shower. As usual he kept his poker face in place and his tongue silent. All his smart ass comments and shit eating grins had been used up in the first month or so, and now he relied heavily on the strength of his poker face to hold him intact.
The first guard hooked the leash back onto the collar and grabbed the wire to re-bound his hands. Remy's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched, ready to brace for the pain. Just then another guard stepped up, this one seemed younger then the rest, his eyes softer and his expression one of concern. He suggested that they bandage his wrists before binding them due to how severely they were cutting into him. The others snorted at his attempt to be humane but did not stop him from doing it. The young guard walked up to Gambit with a roll of cloth bandage, looking up at him for the first time, his pale blue eyes locking with Remy's red and black. He appeared to be in his mid twenties like Gambit, where as the other guards were usually in their thirties or forties. He stared into Remy's eyes that had not yet lost their passionate glow, and seemed to be captivated. Gambit couldn't help but let his lips curl up into a smirk. Ironically enough, if he had met the kid at a different place, different time, he had no doubt that within a hour he'd be engaged in some form of sexual deviancy. But this was not a club in Manhattan or a bar in the village, and his smile faded, his eyes turned off to the side.
"Hey Copper,……quit flirting with the freak and wrap 'em up. The General's back and wants to start the interrogation asap!" one of the solders scolded. Quickly the young guard wrapped up Remy's wrists. His touch was gentle and soft and for a shadow of a moment Remy's mind pictured Rouge, his beautiful, firey yet gentle Rouge. He remembered the soft graze of her hand on his face. A guilty pleasure he had relished despite the franticness of what had been going on around them. He remembered leaning into her touch, wanting more. He was snapped back to reality by the numbing pain of the wires on his wrists. The young guard was the one putting them on, and he was doing it looser then the rest had,……maybe lose enough for him to get free. He almost felt bad about trying, knowing the kid would get chewed out for not tying it tighter and letting it cut into him. When Copper was done, Remy looked back into his eyes and for the fist time in weeks muttered a word.
"Mercy.' His throat was horse and dry, but his voice was still smooth. The kid opened his eyes wide as the Cajun was dragged away toward what ever hell awaited him and for not the first time that day, Copper wondered why he was there.
The General had proven to be just as much the heartless son of a bitch Remy had guessed him to be, coming back to the prison every couple of weeks with some new form of torture ready to be tried out. He'd stay a couple of days, than take off again, leaving Remy's body in ruins. On a regular basis Remy had one person or another asking him questions and inflicting pain, but none were as ruthless in their search for information as the General. The man was a few inches shorter then Remy but almost as broad as Wolverine, with a harsh jaw line and gray eyes that chilled you to the core. He had a mustache that covered his top lip so when he spoke all you saw was coffee stained teeth and the smell of cigar smoke and scotch. Remy cursed the man for making him now associate those scents with pain and disgust. The smell of a cigar had always reminded him of Wolverine, and scotch was Xavier's drink of choice, although most of the X-men didn't know he drank at all. Gambit felt the quiet rage building inside him and he smiled, glad to see it was still alive.
The guard leading him, stopped and punched in a code, 212245. Gambit had memorized it immediately upon first arriving, as well as the lay out of the building, or at least the floor he was on. He wondered if the facility was not a prison at all, but a top secret army base, since he seemed to be the only mutant there. Maybe that's why the X-Men hadn't found him yet. They were probably looking for him at the various prison sites listed in the files he had downloaded. This new realization sparked a tiny pang of dread that he swallowed down and refused to dwell on, the possibility that his friends may never find him. That was not the state of mind he had to be in when facing the General, so he settled back into his rage, letting it flow through him, feeding his Cajun temper. The door opened and he stepped inside.
There were six men in the room, all dressed in high ranking uniforms, the General in the middle, turning to face the young mutant before him. He hated this mutant, this creature called Gambit, for all the same reasons he admired him. His strength, his confidence, his seemingly unbreakable pride and loyalty, all of which antagonized the General beyond belief. That, and the fact that every day, more mutants were being rescued and escaping from the many high security prisons that had been constructed to prevent just that. How did the mutants know where the prisons were located, and how did so many of them anticipate the initial attacks, fleeing before the army could even get within a mile of the bases. These were the questions he was going to ask Gambit, when, by sheer luck, one of his men over heard some of the mutant rescuers mention Gambit's name, implying that he had been their source of information, sending it out before he had been captured. This piece of information was what brought the General back to the base a week earlier then planned, with a desire to here the freak scream. This would be more then an interrogation, it would be a lesson in pain, a lesson to teach the obstinate mutie his place, and the punishment for disrupting the General's planes.
The two men locked eyes, neither prepared to back down. It was then that Remy sensed it, a cold shiver ran up his spine as he realized that today, he would not be asked any questions. Nor would the unbearable pain he was sure to suffer stop, even if he did offer them information. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew, he knew that today,……..no amount of rage could save him.
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The Professor shot up in bed gasping, a cold sweat coating his body. Something was happening, something far off and distant, but close to his heart. Distorted Images of violence and pain had shot through his skull like a sudden migraine then were gone in a flash. He struggled to bring back the memories, to try and slow them down, so he might better understand their origin, but it was in vain. For they were not his own thoughts but some one else's, and they had been so dispirit and graphic, thick with fear and unbelievable pain that some how they had pierced the astral plane and had left a burn. Possibly the work of a minor telepath or inexperienced empapath, calling out for help. Xavier rubbed his temples then stopped, a sudden nauseating realization swept over him and left him with tears in his eyes. Gambit. Some how he had sent out an empathetic scream, probably despite the suppression of his powers. The Professor had always suspected Gambit to be an empapath, but never pushed him on it, considering how private a person Remy was. But it made perfect sense. Charles concentrated and tried to locate his distressed X-Man, but with no luck. Quietly he lay back in bed, the clock read 5:52 am, and he closed his tear filled eyes with the silent knowledge that somewhere out there, Remy was in need of their help.