Remy flicked the cards around in his hands at a quickening rate. One day. He had one day left. One. Day. He was going to die, or he was going to let an innocent girl do the dying for him.

God, he needed a smoke.

He looked around swiftly. Rogue had just gone to take a shower (locking the door to the bathroom and then propping a chair against it on her way) so the entire place was empty. He could sneak out for a minute. Maybe he'd even get some furniture or something while he was out…

No. He shook the thought off. Being her was much more important than having a smoke or stretching his legs. Besides, He thought smoothly. Who's gonna wolf whistle when Rogue gets out of the shower if I'm not here?

As if she could hear his thoughts, which was impossible considering his shield against such things, Rogue suddenly called out. "I'm coming out now, Swamp Rat. If you make a sound, I will end you."

He was about to laugh, but she exited the bathroom and whatever snarky remark he was about to make stuck in his lungs.

"Stop looking at me!" Rogue blushed as she hunched her shoulders and wrapped her towel tighter around herself.

"It's gettin' harder as time goes by, cherie." Remy found his voice again and could hardly keep the grin off his face. She glared at him fiercely. "Did anyone tell ya' what pretty eyes ya' have?" He added as an afterthought.

She growled something terribly obscene about how his mother should have raised him better before she stomped away.

"Goodness," He thought out loud. "If that made her mad, she's mos' definitely not gonna like the clothes I got 'er."

As if on cue, Rogue's voice filled the place.

"Is this a joke?" She screeched. "Gambit!"

He laughed to himself, but again he was cut off by a distracting sound. His blood went cold.

It was the sound of a cell phone vibrating against a solid surface. His cell phone to be precise. The one that only one person knew the number of.

Like a ghost, he rose out of his chair, his feet tread lightly on the floor, going along with his hopes that maybe he could just cease to exist before he had to answer that phone. He noticed that even his fingers were pale as he reached out for the phone, still buzzing in the annoyance of being ignored.

Flipping the phone open, he stared at it for a few more seconds, dread filling the cavity in his chest which had been light with ease a few moments ago.

He put the phone up to his ear.

"Hello, Gambit." The chill of the voice made him shiver.

"Hello." He barely managed to gasp out. "May I ask, why exactly I'm havin' de pleasure o' hearin' yo' voice?" His accent made itself more prominent merely because his tongue felt too thick to pronounce all of the words.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends, my little sacrificial pawn." The voice laughed.

"Oh goody," Remy sneered. "I can feel de love."

"And I, disposable component, have more important things to do than sit around and wait for you to deliver the power source." The voice sneered right back, only pulling off in a much more terrifying manner than Remy had.

Remy cringed. "I'm workin' on it." He stated boldly, keeping his cool like he always did, his face a composed mask.

"Are you, discarded plaything?" The voice asked coldly. "Are you working on it? Or are you flirting with it?"

Remy felt the blood drain from his face… maybe even his entire body… His head felt dizzy and he was unsure if his feet were still touching the floor.

"Oh… was your 'safe house' a secret while you stalled, broken product?" The voice seemed to be having fun with toying with him.

"Stop that!" Remy roared. "I am not your sacrificial pawn, I am not your disposable component, I am not your discarded plaything, and I am not your broken product!"

"Are you not?" The voice mused, unfazed by his outburst. "Because, Last I checked, Remy LeBeau, failed test number 13, I own you. From your demon eyes to your deck of cards. You owe me your life. Now, I will give you another day to get over whatever emotional dilemma you seem to be going through, but let this fact be abundantly clear- I. Want. That. Girl. Understood?"

Remy nodded.

"Good." The voice said as if he could see the nod. "Remember that."

The voice disconnected.

"Gambit?" A voice from reality called out for him, but he wasn't quite ready yet to respond for the moment. The crackling of energy filled his hearing.

-

Rogue walked into his bedroom, wandering in her search for him. Where did he go? She was gone for four minutes and then poof. He and her needed to have a little chit chat about the clothes he had supplied her with.

A good word to describe them was 'slinky', followed closely by 'revealing', 'exposing', and 'skimpy'. The jeans weren't so bad, in fact they were pretty comfy in the crazy tight pants sort of way. The shirts are were it just got ridiculous. She had searched for a good three minutes until she had found a dark green one that covered a little bit more of her than the other ones, and a lotta bit less than she would have liked. The neck scooped down low enough that it was almost reminiscent of an Emma Frost blouse*. It cut off barely below her rib cage, exposing much more skin than she was comfortable with. At least the damn thing had sleeves, which seemed like a waste of fabric in contrast to the rest of the shirt. And she did not want to think about the underwear he had supplied her with.

"Gambit?" She rounded the corner so that she was standing in his sleeping quarters. She was a little stunned by what she found.

He was standing in the middle of the room, unmoving, phone pressed against his ear despite the fact that the person on the other side of that conversation had long since departed. His face was contorted with hate. The phone glowed at an ever increasing magenta.

"Gambit!" Rogue slapped the phone out of his hand and pushed him to the ground as it exploded. The knock on the ground broke him out of his spell and he twisted around to be on top of her, taking the brunt of the explosion.

"Je suis vraiment désolé!" He apologized quickly in French, his mind finally catching up with his body.

"Three feet, Cajun!" She reminded him of the rules she had set upon her agreement to stay, on of which being that he granted her three feet of space at all times. Why was he acting so weird?

"Sorry! Sorry!" He said again, this time in English as he gathered himself up and scrambled across the room.

"Are you all right…?" Rogue asked hesitantly. She had never seen Gambit loose his cool before.

"Yeah," He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly regaining composure. "I'll be fine…"

Rogue looked at him skeptically, and then at the scorch mark that had been the phone a few moments ago. He had spoken in first person. Something was up. Something bad.

-

Scott slumped the ground, covering his eyes with his hand as an extra precaution against accidental laser-blasts. He remembered when he was younger, he had wondered if the beams that came from his eyes ever ended. It had never failed to make him chuckle if he thought of an Astronaut narrowly avoiding a bright red beam in the middle of space before turning around and going 'What the hell was that?'

He laughed slightly at the old joke as he replaced the visor, inspecting the damage he had done.

Smoke drifted from the charred remains of the place that had inspired so much hate and fear amongst the X-men. Some scorched bodies littered the ground here and there, some moaning out for help or mercy. The wail of sirens echoed in the distance.

Hot damn he was good.

For the first time in a while he felt a smile split his face.

The best part was, unless the government was willing to explain what exactly that facility had been for this entire ordeal was going to be skipped over in the media.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Scott whistled a cheery tune, leaning back leisurely as he walked and stepping over bodies as he made his way back to Blackbird.

Right outside the door he recomposed his face to look grim.

-

Logan was angry. Logan, being a generally angry being, was well acquainted with the emotion, in fact, it was his favorite drinking buddy, but this was the sort of angry that destroyed Japan in one scaly, fiery attack.

Deadpool was probably still alive. No, not probably, absolutely. Deadpool was absolutely still alive, but he wasn't playing for the X-men anymore, whether it was against his will or not.

Rogue's trail had been left stagnant for too long and would have probably faded by now, giving him no means to find her and make sure his promise remained intact. And she was with Gambit.

A feral growl that had been snaking around in his throat finally broke loose at its full effect. He slammed his fist down on the switch board and everyone in the Blackbird jumped, all of them so terrified of Logan in this state they didn't dare speak.

He heard the seal on the door break with a metallic hiss, letting someone into the Blackbird. Logan recognized Scott's smell before he saw him.

"So the Shade master decided to finally show up! We can finally get out of the damn place!" Logan roared, turning on Scott. Scott looked like hell, taking down the entire building had obviously been a burden on the man. "Get moving!" Logan barked.

"Don't you understand?" Scott looked up at him, a glare evident despite the fact that his eyes were covered. "The rocks were falling! Debris everywhere! People running, trying to run out of the way! But, it was my eyes. My eyes! Crying out in pain, calling out for their loved ones! I could see it on their faces! The hard work of other's being torn down just because I took off a piece of plastic! Don't you understand?" Scott demanded, on the verge of tears.

"Dude, calm down." Logan reached out hesitantly and put a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder, his own anger ebbing away.

"Don't touch me!" Scott pulled away. "Just drive the damn plane!"

Jesus, Logan thought as he watched the other man sit down. I thought I had problems.

Scott leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and humming to himself. It's like diffusing a baby. A feral, clawed, indestructible baby.

-

* Seriously, Emma. Put on a shirt.