So the Morlocks, dun,dun,dun… The punch of Bella was Rogue working out her frustration and anger over the bungling over her relationship with Remy, not to mention attacking her own insecurities. We're getting to the end! Climax coming next!
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!
Ele-chan (it takes longer to claim abandonment!), cocopucks, allyg1990 (I was hoping I included them well! I don't know them too well!), thriller, mercuriancat, Sarcastic Bubble Wrap, Google Girl11 (LOL! Remember chibi Remy or not, she doesn't have access to everything! I feel the same way about some other authors! Too-easy happy endings are no fun...), Ele Goddess of Elements, X-Storm (thanks!), k, roguerulez, Bellasaurs (hmm...thanks for the rec), lovestoread, Mokana-chan (:)), allyg1990, tfobmv18, flaming-mod (And the whole garcon point is revelatory for Rogue – catch how she stopped her instinctual 'he's not my boy-friend' to glance at Wolverine), ashez2ashes (updating either does motivate me for the other), ishandahalf (dun,dun,dun. Glad you like Lapin, though I looked up his pic and –blegh-. He's better in ff! Absolutely – Rogue's getting to know Remy from the inside-out somewhat), Valerie J (about as bad as we are at updating, -hint,hint- And I think Evo did handle it better, but unevenly), New Moon Night.
ShadowFax999 - Withdrawal, oy! Sometimes it's more productive not to focus on the issues and just have the characters forced to act. Actions speak louder than words after all… And it was more than horniness as you'll see… Oy, I'm not going to do that dramatic! And that blond is for the sequel!!
Wiccamage - Thanks! I love progress! Rogue's slide into Remy is temporary, the aftermath of her absorption of him and inner Remy trying to control the other psyches, not to mention she's trying to tap into him to navigate New Orleans.),
Selina - -big grin-! You're the second to love Kurt's line – I had to have someone say it. I loved Kitty's line, just some of the bad guys' names are so melodramatic! Actually, she woke up to see him gone, sorry no interaction. LOL to crossing fingers & toes!
TheLetter5 - I love that you caught that! He is horrified by the proof of her absorption, but still wants her badly! Exactly – this chapter is about her interacting with Remy on an even deeper level, even though he's not physically there. The inverse of the past few weeks. Yes, cherie is such a symbol here. I loved the smoking scene, I think it was my favorite part.
Honorary Mention: Chica De Los Ojos Cafe - "In trying to protect each other and themselves, they put each other in more danger. Ironic much?" That's a life irony that's sooo common!! And…
"How can you deny your feelings for someone when you so want to strangle someone else who meant so much to the person you are in love with?" LOL!
Best quote: TheLetter5 - "I know if I was in her position (hehe, position . . . whe) I'd be dancing and singing to the forest animals like I was the star of a Disney movie." LOL!
TWO CHAPTERS TO GO!
20) No hole deep enough
-
-
Mutants were the highest evolution of man, the pinnacle, the summit of the Egyptian pyramids built on the back of the masses below, inferior and able to be ruled over.
Not that Essex truly cared; that was more Magneto's megalomania.
Instead, Essex appreciated the beauty of the construction. Mutant genes were more complex, more complete than mere mortals. Entwined in the glowing double helix were secrets waiting to be discovered, to be pushed, to be toyed with.
Potential.
That was what Essex saw when he looked into the face of a mutant. Sheer, raw potential.
And he was the one who could make the most of it – even if he had to dissect every last mutant to do so.
What was cost for the advance of science, knowledge, the full realization of potential?
-
It was a dingy line of warehouses, the outlines barely discernable in the pre-dawn gloom. There was the faintest hint of salt in the air – though the district wasn't a wharf, they weren't far from Lake Michigan. Lapin shivered; this far north, November had a greater bite, but he didn't complain.
The team descended the ramp of the Blackbird cautiously, scanning the quiet periphery as the muted hum of the engines shut off. For discretions' sake, they'd set down in the very middle of the district on a roof, the engines of the conveniently-sized Blackbird whirring on silent. But the taint of red on the horizon warned they hadn't much time.
"Which one is it?"
Cyclops, like always, cut straight to the point and Lapin smiled, making a sweeping gesture. "Take y' pick. Dey all unda Essex's name."
"Fabulous," Cyclops muttered, but immediately motioned. "We break up into teams of two except-"
"Who do I go wit'?" They were an even number including Lapin and the 'except' could only mean one thing.
Cyclops scowled. "I'd prefer you stay here-"
"He ain't gonna listen," Rogue said wryly, adjusting her uniform. They'd all changed on the way. "An' yah seriously wanta leave him in dis hot ride?" she stuck her thumb back at the Blackbird. "We liable to come back an' find it on the nearest black market."
"No way." Lapin's teeth flashed in the dim light. "Dis baby's just beggin' f' a joyride." His fingers twitched.
Wolverine scowled and Cyclops sighed irritably. "Fine. You're with Wolverine," he faced the other man's snarl, "You'd be the best to keep him out of trouble." He turned to the others, "Rogue and Nightcrawler, you take the north, the furthest end, and work your ways south. Shadowcat, you and I will take the middle warehouses, heading north to meet up with you two." Gesturing in the air, he sketched a rough approximation of the plan. "Wolverine-"
"Bayou bunny and I take the southern end, got it."
"Bayou bunny?" Cyclops repeated. Nightcrawler and Shadowcat took one look at each other and began to snicker.
"Well, lapin does mean rabbit," Rogue said, trying to sound serious.
Cyclops knew an attack of pre-fight nerves when he saw one, uncontrollable laughter that would just delay what they'd come to do. "Never mind; anyone spots Essex, you call the rest. Do not engage if possible." He locked eyes with each of them in turn, managing to get serious nods from everyone but Wolverine. "Let's go."
They broke up. Turning south, Wolverine extended a hand. "After you, bayou bunny."
Lapin ignored the comment, but he heard giggling for three straight minutes afterward.
-
It didn't take long to locate the furthest warehouse; Lapin had been thorough in his research and a thief never did a job without memorizing blueprints. Spotting the door, Wolverine's claws seemed to reflexively snickt out. Lapin winced despite himself, before brazenly pushing them to the side.
"No 'ffense to y' stealth abilities, but maybe y' let me handle dis?"
Wolverine grunted and left the claws out. Nimble fingers edged the paneling by the door before finally uncovering the camouflaged key panel. Opening it, Lapin gave a low whistle, examining the uncovered panel. "Pretty high-tech f' a innocent storehouse."
"Can you crack it?"
"Wit'out settin' off any 'larms?" He carefully replaced the top. "Not wit'out prep." It was lucky that the other two groups had no such handicap, with the assistance of Nightcrawler and Shadowcat, they had little need for an actual entrance. "But dat don' mean we can't get in."
Taking a few steps back, Lapin's eyes swept high, to the few windows scattered near the top of the building. He mentally noted the most easily accessible and made his way over. Noting his gaze, Wolverine followed. With a flick of his wrist, the thief spun open an adamantium bo-staff that was all too familiar. The X-Men's eyebrow arched.
"What do they do, hand those out like confetti down there?" he asked archly.
"'ctually jus' a familie t'ing." Carefully aiming, a single button push launched the grappling hook. It sunk into metal wall right next to the window. Lapin's eyes glinted with triumph, but Wolverine just looked both ways.
"Ain't time to gloat Cajun. Guards likely changing shift 'round now."
Lapin nodded and activated some kind of release mechanism, drawing the man up to the window, where he managed to perch. Wolverine squinted up at him, but even with advanced sight in the pre-dawn light he could only see a blurry outline of quick fingers. There was some kind of puff from the staff and he thought he saw the man fiddling with neon red beams, a sight that did not build confidence.
"Cajun-"
"Et viola!" The window sprung open. Wolverine cocked his head, but he heard nothing indicating any alarms.
Lapin descended grandly with a wide smile, before presenting Wolverine with the staff.
"After y', Monsieur Claws."
Wolverine just grunted.
-
Even before his feet hit the floor, Wolverine's senses were up and humming. He breathed in the stale air of the warehouse, letting it rest on his palate, categorizing a thousand different smells. Behind him, Lapin landed with light feet and suitably attuned, he could tell the moment Lapin registered the sight before them. Lines of complicated machinery, with a far distant glow that made Wolverine's stomach tighten with half-forgotten reminiscence. Lapin moved forward, scoping out the aisle before them.
"Funny how dis all ain't in de blueprints. T'ink we hit de jackpot?" he whispered.
Wolverine took a step forward. He'd never claimed to be able to sense a telepath, but the presence of a strong mutant always sent his skin crawling – the more powerful, the greater the effect.
"He's here."
Lapin glanced back at him. "Jus' my luck," the thief muttered.
They moved down the row cautiously, Lapin taking in everything. "Nice setup he's got," he muttered. "Theoren woul' kill t' be here." Wolverine ignored him as they came up to the open center of the building. Wolverine saw the large glass cylinders – pods, filled with liquid and his entire mind shuttered. Lapin took a step beyond him. "What de hell is he up to?" the whisper seemed abnormally loud and Wolverine tensed. Something was wrong.
It was the scuffing of a boot, almost covered by the insistent buzz of a hundred different machines, which alerted Wolverine. He swiveled and his adjusted eyes took in five guards, armed with assault rifles all cocked.
His teeth ground as Lapin turned as well. Lapin raised his arms, but Wolverine automatically went into a defensive crouch.
"So you two are my intruders…"
Essex appeared from the shadows, his simple black slacks and form-fitting top having easily melded, the men angling to let him through. Moses before the fucking Red Sea; Wolverine's lip curled. Towering over the crouched guards, he was more heavy-set than Wolverine imagined, his top showcasing his heavily muscled arms, an ominous sign. Simple telepaths didn't rely on their physical bodies.
Lapin's lips stretched into an easy grin as he stage-whispered, "De first time I get caught, j'jure." (I swear)
"Your presence was detected immediately – Mr. Lapin, isn't it?" The man's head cocked just slightly and his eyes glowed, a pure red sheen unadorned by any sign of irises or corneas. The pale diamond on his forehead, which Wolverine had taken to be a tattoo, glimmered. Lapin tensed minutely and Wolverine's respect for him rose grudgingly. It took real balls to act cool in front of a telepath.
"Oh, Remy talk 'bout m', did he?" Lapin's grin didn't falter.
Silence, before a grin crept unto the man's face as he folded his arms. The guards kept their weapons trained on the intruders. Wolverine calculated the odds. The ones on their knees were bound to be slow to rise; they must've been there for a while –
"So you want some info on Mr. LeBeau," Essex sounded amused. "And you thought I'd what, volunteer it?"
Lapin spread his hands wide. "Lapin ready to say please."
Beryl eyes flicked to his companion, a smirk creasing the side of his mouth. "And you Wolverine?"
"Not a chance."
Several things happened at the same time.
Wolverine surged forward, dodging the first round of shots as the guards reacted. Lapin sprang into a head stand, before tumbling next to one of the machines. Wolverine hit the row like a line backer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lapin drop something on the nearest machine, causing sparks to fly. The next few moments were a chaos of fists and legs as the guards converged, the close quarters rendering their weapons unwieldy. But there was never any question as to the winner of the match.
With a last uppercut, Wolverine brought the last man down in time to see Essex, eyes shining in a way Wolverine would bet meant he was pissed off, bending down to touch the forehead of a prone, unconscious Lapin. He bit off a swear. His eyes fell on the last guard he'd been fighting – military garb. He grabbed the first canister he found on him.
"Essex!" The man looked up – Wolverine inwardly grimaced; with the black versus the stark white of skin, he looked like he belonged in a horror flick. A bad one. "Catch!"
He pulled the pin and chucked it hard, just a smidge to the right of Essex. The geneticist, like any sane person, immediately moved out of its way – away from Lapin. Wolverine took off in dead sprint, but couldn't reach the Cajun before the canister impacted with the machinery Lapin had already fried.
The next thing Wolverine knew, smoke was everywhere, but his fingers hit the edge of Lapin's coat and he dragged the man away. Rapidly, his senses took in the scene, even as he hefted Lapin up in a fireman's hold. He could only smell and see the smoke, but he couldn't hear any fire – must have been just a smoke grenade. Good for a getaway though. Trusting his sense of direction, he wound his way around the counters.
"You really think you can hide from me?" There was an edge of mocking as the voice echoed eerily – and not completely physically.
He hated telepaths.
The next few moments he could feel the bare brush of Essex probing for him. Unconsciously, he sent his body into standby mode, keeping his breath deep and controlled, slowing his heart rate, clearing his mind. The non-psychic X-Men were prepped for the possibility of psychic assault, but it was purely defensive. And most really only had privacy screens instead of shields. However, Wolverine was loathe to leave weaknesses wide open and so he had one of the strongest shields a non-psychic could have, thanks in no little part to Xavier.
He slowly picked his way to a more secure area. He needed to be out of easy earshot, but still close enough to keep track of Essex.
It galled him to call for back-up, but the Cajun wasn't even an X-Men. Wolverine tapped his ear, lowering his voice, "He's here; Lapin's down."
Cyclops didn't bother pointing out they weren't supposed to have confronted Essex. "We'll be right there."
Faintly, he began to hear echoes as the guards began to stir. "Find them now," he heard Essex command.
Wonderful. More people to avoid.
Normally, he would barely consider this a workout, but he had a liability this time. He double-checked their hiding spot. Stay or leave. Chance discovery here or discovery as he tried to find his way through a place he didn't know the layout, but could track his pursuers. He grit his teeth. Hiding went against his nature – he eyed Lapin's limp form. Lapin would safe enough here on his own…
The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he heard the sound of footsteps. "Fe, fie, fo, fum," there was no real choice, "I sense the presence of a Canadian."
Wolverine crept down the row, angling to get behind the scientist. He wasn't prepared for the sudden vise around his neck as an invisible force dragged him upward.
"So I did," Essex stepped out of the shadows with a grin Wolverine was really coming to hate. His struggling against the psychic bonds only served to further amuse the scientist. His claws came out instinctively. Red eyes glinted speculatively.
"You're certainly an interesting specimen," he murmured. "That metal's not organic – I suppose you didn't upgrade yourself though. I'd love to see exactly how that works-" Wolverine barred his teeth, even as he fought the blackness enfolding the edges of his vision, and Essex tisked. "Too bad you all can't be as accommodating as Mr. LeBeau," he let the words linger as he raised his other hand. The outline of it began to shimmer, then glow. "Thankfully, I know many ways to make one more pliable."
Wolverine had spent enough time around Boom-Boom and Gambit to know energy buildup when he saw it.
Well, this was just getting better and better.
"Wolverine?"
The feral in him snarled as he braced himself.
"Wolverine, where are you? Wolverine, what's your status?"
The glow became a glaring star, blinding – but Wolverine couldn't take his eyes off it.
He hit the ground with enough force to knock the air out of him. It took him a second to realize that the explosion ringing in his ears hadn't come from impact – but rather a flare of red far larger than Essex's hand blast. The scientist turned to see a mutilated, sizzling pile of machinery tilting dangerously only a row or two away from them.
The cavalry had arrived.
Essex forced a grim smile as Wolverine scrambled to his feet. He waved his hand and Wolverine slammed into the counter behind him with enough force to inflict an impression. In the time it took Wolverine to shake it off, Essex had disappeared in the direction of the blast.
He angled through the counters, grimly counting that Essex would be more distracted this time. Creeping around a machine almost twice his height that was leaning rather threateningly, he heard the confrontation before he saw it.
"I see a whole squad is here, should I be flattered?"
There was another explosion; he looked to see Cyclops' hand still on his visor, but no damage. A canceling out – he'd have to tell Cyke to turn up the voltage. Kitty was crouched beside Cyclops, but the boy waved her away. She went through the closest machine and Wolverine had to smirk as it sparked in response.
With all the tech damage they were raking in, the damn scientist had to be pissed.
"I suppose you're the leader."
The next minute, he remembered why that wasn't a good thing.
"Look, all we want is to talk to you-" Cyclops was saying.
"Ah, but talking is so over-rated, don't you think?" Cyclops' visor hand froze - the boy jerked like someone was playing with puppet strings, an inarticulate moan coming out of his mouth. Wolverine knew a psychic attack when he saw one.
Damn.
It was pure reflex that launched him from the background, teeth gritted with claws at ready. This time, Essex almost negligently brought up a hand and let loose with his energy ball – that Wolverine only barely dodged. He never loosened his hold on Cyclops.
Freaking spooks.
He kept momentum though. He sheathed a set of claws, coming at Essex from the other side. His punch was mid-release when Essex's head snapped up – neatly colliding with an adamantium-laced fist. Wolverine never tired of the sound of flesh hitting his reinforced flesh, especially when it finally sent the psychic, telekinetic and damn annoying scientist stumbling. Cyclops slumped to the floor, his breathing harsh and uneven.
And centered in the wall Cyclops had broke through, looking really, really pissed off, was one furious redhead. Jean Gray, the girlfriend, had arrived – and she really needed a codename.
"No one invades my fiancée's mind!"
God bless spooks.
He only took a minute to admire her righteous fury, hair splayed with telekinetic fervor, in favor of pummeling Essex while he had the advantage. It wasn't for long; he managed to ground Essex's face into the floor and get a hit to the solar plexus. The scientist's hand began to glow belatedly; Wolverine pinned his arm, but the blast didn't dissipate. He realized too late Essex was going to let it explode.
His vision disappeared into a haze of white.
-
Looks like they'd been the last to arrive to the party.
A cry from Shadowcat alerted them to where she was tangling with a group of khaki-clad guys with guns. She played peek-a-boo with the group, jumping in and out of counters – managing to drag one gun with her and leave it sticking handle up tauntingly. Nightcrawler disappeared with a sulfurous cloud, landing right behind one guard and whipping his tail to grab the man's gun when he turned in bewilderment. His appearance, in all its blue-furred glory, only got muttered swears from the other still-armed men.
Apparently having a boss with glowing red eyes had somewhat jaded them, Rogue reflected. The two escape experts seemed to have the situation under control and she let herself take in the rest of the tableau, making sure she was out of eyeshot of the main combatants.
Jean and Sinister were facing off, the pose of her hands to her head echoed by the shine of his diamond, both intently focusing on the other. Cyclops was kneeling by her feet, pale and sweating – Rogue felt a stab of concern, but she breathed it out. Whatever attack he'd undergone, it looked like Jean had come, guns blazing.
She nearly jumped when a snarling Wolverine pounced on Sinister – or at least tried, Sinister sending a barrage of small blasts at him. Wolverine managed to dodge the first few, stoically absorbing those he couldn't. He began to circle at Sinister's back again, jabbing, feinting with his claws, only to dance away when Sinister sent any concentration his way.
They were at stalemate. Wolverine was having difficulty getting close to Sinister and Jean was beginning to tire – her hands pushed against her forehead with enough force Rogue could almost see the impressions. And they said guys weren't able to multi-task.
She blew out a breath and slipped her glove off, reinforcing her mental walls. Grimly she waited for Wolverine to charge again.
It had been a hazy realization, but Rogue had known it would come to this. Sinister wasn't going to give them any information willingly. He was too strong for Jean to just 'pick it up' from his mind. And he had more stamina than they'd counted on.
Wolverine charged – and even as Sinister deflected him, just as she knew he would, she was racing across the ground fast fast and he reached out his hand, still sparking – and she made contact.
Her skin sucked.
She managed to wrap her hand around his before his mind cascaded into her own.
He was wild, free-wheeling – he knew about the energy-stealing girl, throw her off! – she wouldn't let him go, not until he told her – taking my energy, my mind I won't give it to you – he had to, he had to, it was she who was in control – looking for what? burns – Remy, she had to remember, what did he know? You think you can take me little girl!
She couldn't see, couldn't hear – pounding of blood, all white – screams echoed as she felt his mind try to escape her – no, I won't let you go!
She never saw his hands groping, the joint handshake that began to glow – but she could feel the energy – coursing, coursing, in in in out out – wait, she knew that sensation – Remyremyremyremy everyt'ing I touched blew up –
Rogue let go.
And the world shook.
-
"Everyone," Cyclops' voice rasped; he cleared it. "Count off."
"Shadowcat," very pale, the usually upbeat X-Man phased through the closest sections of wall, skirting the now blockaded hole Cyclops had so recently created.
"Nightcrawler," acrobatically, he swung out of the high rafters, teleporting to land on the ground. He rested gingerly on his right leg.
"Jean Gray." Dust-smudged, she didn't move from her spot with Cyclops' arm slung over hers, half-supporting his weight – though who exactly was being supported could be debated.
There was a shaky laugh and heads turned. "So redheads don' need no funny names?" Lapin smiled at the dirty looks he received, not moving from his spot splayed against something that had probably been very expensive, which had served as his impromptu bunker. Very expensive in the days it had been recognizable, but Lapin's still scrambled mind didn't bother to ponder it.
Cyclops relaxed just a tad. Extricating Lapin's body from the mess was not something he'd been looking forward to. "The guards?"
Kitty gestured to outside. "I managed to drag two on my way out-"
"-I got ze rest," Nightcrawler finished, before looking up. "Not sure how ze are going tuo get down though." Jean cracked a tired smile at that; she'd shielded herself and Cyclops as best she could. Cyclops resumed the count, silently dreading the last call. He didn't bother asking about Essex; he knew through Jean that the telepath was long gone.
"Wolverine?"
"She's okay," the terse words sent them all scrambling, picking their way among the debris. Clearing the last uprooted machine, an entire twenty yards was polished clean, like burnished steel. Shadowcat inhaled sharply.
Wolverine crouched near the center of the cleared floor, burns and cuts healing before their eyes. Rogue was on her knees, but miraculously unscathed. She was shaking, gritting her teeth and clawing the ground, her hands shimmering warningly. "Such plans, such plans I-he has for him, Dieu, Remy doesn't, Gambit, doesn't know what I've, he's got planned," her breath was coming out short and jerky, on the verge of hyperventilation. Carefully, Wolverine laid his hand on her covered shoulder.
"Breath, Rogue." Rogue tensed, then forcefully relaxed, though her breath was still gasping.
Cyclops knelt down, forcing himself not to flinch, trying to engage Rogue's eyes. "What's going on Rogue?"
"Morlocks," Rogue finally breathed.
Cyclops' face, though haggard, immediately set in stone.
"Everyone on the jet. Now."
-
He always kept an eye on possible mutant occurrences. Human news had no understanding of mutants – most mutants tried to keep under the radar, so when unexplained phenomena ended up on the nightly news, he always sent out his feelers to be informed. It was only the powerful mutants who could make sure a stir, ones in a vulnerable position. So when the middle of New Orleans turned into a fiery wasteland, he smiled.
He had always played the hand he'd been dealt. Scavenging off the streets, being adopted by the LeBeaus, scraping by when everything he touched turned to fire, even the arrangement with beautiful, lethal Bella. He gave a hoarse chuckle. He'd gotten use to coming up on top. He shivered despite the heat. His sleeves were short, his arms bare. He couldn't risk more. The gloves on his hands were tattered – they were a mental comfort if not actual. The door scraped and he turned his head.
There'd been rumors of a mutant with explosive capabilities going back years. He'd been interested from the start, but the Thieves were not an easy clan from which to extract the boy. Before that, he'd simply been one of the nameless, faceless homeless children who pilfered the streets. But now, what potential. To be able to detonate everything within an area, by simple proximity – yes, truly someone he had to meet.
"Remy?"
"Here," his voice scrapped out of a raw throat and he coughed. He heard Emil step closer, but then pause. His cousin quickly recovered by rummaging through some kind of bag.
"I got y' some jambala, 'course it ain't hot, mais I figure dat ain't a probleme pour toi-" The boy was babbling, but he let him. It was enough that he'd been brave enough to face the Diable Blanc in his exile. Silence recalled his attention. "I 'ranged a meetin' for y'." He visualized Emil licking his lips in nervousness, a tell he'd always tried to break. "Y' sure 'bout-"
He stood. "Merci." They'd already been through this argument. This was his hand and he was playing it.
He heard Emil shift to a standing position and walk to the door. But it didn't close. "Remy, dat help?"
He knew what he was referring to, but he didn't raise a hand to the bloody blindfold wrapped around his face.
"Don't hurt."
It had only been a matter of time before the unfortunate mutant searched him out, ironically through the very family that disowned him. Looking for a cure of course, but it would be such a pity to lose such potential.
The trip was a nightmare, walking blind – unable to sleep for fear of waking with everything around him lit, unknowing of the next time the charge would take him, demand release, cry, scream until he was in agony and let it flow – he felt the warning signs, headache, the tingling he just couldn't calm, and he barely managed to get the bus driver to pull over for a rest stop. Thank Dieu for pregnant passengers and small bladders. He'd barely gotten twenty yards from the rest area when the charge almost leapt out of him, like a tiger roaring to be released from its cage. Slinking back onto the bus was a blur, but finally he arrived. He sat down heavily on the agreed-upon bench. He couldn't live like this.
And now finally, he had him in hand. And such potential didn't have to be wasted.
As soon as that cold skin descended on his shoulder, Remy knew this wasn't a man he would want to deal with – but he was out of cards. He didn't remember anything from that moment until waking up after being 'fixed.' He always considered that a blessing.
He smiled.
-
Rogue sat in her seat, trying to breathe deep, flexing her fingers, using the techniques Remy had showed her to control the burning at her fingertips. The oppressive feeling of the minds around her didn't help her concentration, but she refused to push them away. She'd absorbed Jean before, she could do this.
"Is de fille all right?" Lapin – the most unshielded, his concern for her mixed with that for his cousin- she deliberately directed the telepathy inward.
"Absorption's always difficult, especially with powerful mutants." She knew what they were thinking.
This wasn't like Creed though. Creed was a feral, his mind wild as he, anger and fury, roaring and always fighting, chaotic and seeking one to devour. Sinister was a telepath, a chilly order prevailing in his own minds, smug in his superiority, seething at the mere insinuation that someone could take him down, but still reveling in his own manipulations.
Puppets, she-he whispered.
Bile rose at the back of her throat and she wished she could curl up in a ball. But she couldn't, couldn't now, now when Sinister had trapped, unleashed Gambit so intently-
-
He hadn't overlooked Gambit's other potential though. He would be worth the hassle of acquisition; brain surgery was such a delicate matter. But his thief skills were virtually unmatched, his ethics flexible, and then there was the matter of his telepathic shields. They were so intriguing. The flow of energy so constant through the body, that they obscured the workings of his mind. Truly intriguing, but he was not a specimen he could simply keep on the table to pick apart. A pity that.
The sense he'd gotten when Essex, he'd known it in his gut, had grasped his shoulder had never left him. He wasn't surprised at the cost of his cure – there were always strings. The price of the LeBeaus had been thieving for them, now Essex working for him. He was merely switching one family for – he couldn't complete the lie even in his own mind. His work was information-gathering, a slightly challenging line of work, but one he excelled in. Slip in, slip out, coax words from alcohol-loosened tongues; he had to be hyper-aware, but it wasn't taxing. And it didn't bother him. It was whom he was gathering the information on that unnerved him. Mutants.
Still, he was facing a lull in business. Gambit had already served his purpose for acquiring the background on his next project. This acquisition would take both time and delicacy, but he was hesitant to tap the thief again, he had too big a weak spot for blonde damsels in distress. No, he could part with his services for a little bit. Magneto, with all his grandiose plans, was one to keep an eye on. Contracting Gambit would serve dual purposes, Magneto would be indebted to him and the thief would report on those mutants he met. He loved having such flexible tools.
Mutants. Weak mutants, slinking in shadows. Strong mutants, defiantly making their way through society. He heard the whispers, hisses of the good doctor – Sinister – and those that disappeared in the night. He didn't ask questions; he didn't want to know what Essex did, but the sickening, slimy feeling in his gut refused to disappear. Being signed over to Magneto was almost a relief. The metal maniac was very up-front about his motives, his tactics, big dreams and defiant blustering. A lot of noise and limited action. From what he could tell, Magneto and those under him spent most of their time tangling with the X-kids. After his former work, he reveled in the petty assignments, the freedom – even though it was within eyeshot of that beast.
Sabretooth's presence on Magneto's team also was beneficial. He knew that the feral and the thief had bad blood between them, though he hardly cared for the details. He'd used Sabretooth from time to time, only for muscle jobs. The mutant was too unpolished for more carefully constructed arrangements. The sight of him would be a reminder to Gambit how temporary the contract was. Gambit was his.
He knew the freedom was illusory. One day, Sinister would crook his finger.
It was time to remind him. Magneto had re-surfaced and renounced his whole purpose, leaving the continent even. Gambit's use away was at its end and he needed to re-establish his claim on the mutant, re-impress on Gambit's mind that he was not an X-Man. He smiled as he activated the implant he'd so carefully arranged in the thief's brain. Such potential could not simply be wasted.
And he came running.
-
She couldn't sit still. With a lurch, she tried to stand, only to have her protective harness catch her mid-rise. Wrestling it off, she headed toward the front of the jet. Belatedly, Cyclops spotted her.
"Rogue-" She cut off his disapproving hiss.
"I'm fine." He glared, but couldn't take his eyes off the controls for too long.
"Are you sure?" Kitty appeared, looking remarkably wide awake for someone she'd thought was napping. She glanced around to see both Wolverine and Nightcrawler with their eyes open, watching the scene. But Lapin twitched with a snore and Jean didn't move from her hunched position beside her fiancée. Fighting Essex had wiped her out – not that the rest weren't tired. When this was over, they'd all have to sleep for a week.
"We'll need all of us in those tunnels." Cyclops' lips tightened, but he didn't argue.
"Rogue, what exactly does Essex want with the Morlocks?"
"Nothing," her stomach turned, but it had been hours since she'd last eaten. Nothing could come up. "They're a waste of genetic material for him. He plans on exterminating them."
"Mein Gott." Kurt, hovering in the shadows, spoke for them all. Rogue swallowed heavily.
"And Remy doesn't know that."
-
He knew them – he'd collected information on them all for Sinister. He'd even known one from back in the days when he actually was on bare-talking terms with the Assassins. Greycrow had been a simple weapons' assembler back then, who'd joke around with a lowly, wary thief. But he'd changed.
They all had.
Sinister called him Scalphunter. Gambit could hear him sharpening his piece-meal weapons, the bulky Harpoon doing likewise beside him, but he didn't turn his head to look. Instead, he coolly surveyed the rest of the gang.
The blonde Vertigo and the only other female, Arclight, were side-by-side, murmuring to each other. Vertigo caught his eye and winked, throwing him a flirtatious smile, but the violette shockwave mutant barely glanced at him. He pretended not to notice either fact.
Riptide, adorned with habitual purple and white to match his odd hair, seemed to debate joining the other men in sharpening weapons. He fingered his shuriken, Chinese stars, but then thought better. He caught Gambit's gaze and smiled, but his lips only formed a sneer.
To his side, Scrambler, the poor boy with the ill-fated name of Kim Il Sung, fidgeted insistently. He couldn't fight, Gambit well knew, but his ability to nullify powers was too good a tool for Sinister to pass up.
Gambit's eyes finally settled on Scalphunter, seated just to his right.
"Bit of a large team for just a simple snatch and grab," he commented idly.
Harpoon looked up with a grin, clutching his signature weapon and pre-empting the question.
"Morlocks are a slippery bunch."
Gambit tilted his head back and lighting a cigarette, took a drag and closed his eyes.
-
Rogue leaned forward and the glimmer of metal at Jean's throat caught her eye. A chain – jewelry was forbidden on missions, but it took little imagination to guess what was on the chain. A ring. Even though not visible, its presence was still palpable.
She felt a familiar stab of envy, but this was hardly the time. Remy was not the committed type; he got bored, he got wary, he got what he wanted, he got scared, he ran. She knew this. She and Remy may never share what Jean and Scott had, but they did have something.
And that something was worth pursuing.
"Let us be in time."
-
Gambit stood in the dark New York City street, the butt of cigarette glowing in the shadows.
He crushed the cig the next moment under his boot.
"Showtime," he breathed and led the way into the tunnels.