Chapter 9

The hazy veil of that fateful night had descended upon her, abstract thoughts were swirling around her mind, casting a mix of lights and shadows upon the intoxicated young woman. Her eyes were open, but she was not registering what was happening around her. It was as if the lights were on but there was nobody home. Unwelcome hands touched her, her body was being undressed, she was a rag doll at someone else's hands. Her eyes were vacant, staring at the ceiling, no coherent thoughts would surface. Her senses were completely awash with the potent cocktail of alcohol and drugs administered to her.

It was like when you are sleeping, then the alarm rings but instead of waking up, the sound of the alarm is in the dream and it goes on and on, never waking you up, but merging into the dream.

A mischievous grin adorned his face, his eyes glazed with a mischievous glimmer as he opened the zipper of her perfect little black dress.

"Oh, Remy," she breathed out lazily in her dream. She smiled in anticipation, all her life, that was all she had ever dreamed. His hands touching her bare skin were heavenly, the moment his fingertips brushed against her skin, an electrifying current surged through her veins, awakening dormant desires and igniting a fire within her soul.

"Remy, I love you," she mumbled, her speech so slurred that no one at earshot would be able to make out what she had said.

Her dream still playing hazily in her head, his hands were fumbling with her clothes desperately.

But sadly, those hands were not his. On the contrary, these were rough, not kind and gentle like his hands had always been. The world around her was ever so distant, a distorted symphony of no sound and motion.

As Joana finally slid Rogue's body into a black lacy bodysuit after having undressed her carelessly, Rogue's eyes rolled into her head and her body shook uncontrollably for a moment or two. Joana stopped her action for a second, wondering if the dose she had given that beautiful stranger had been too strong. No one wanted dead bodies, nobody left that club in a body bag ever and the members were quite proud to say that. As if the shattered lives of the women who had been raped and abused by that group were not the death penalty just the same.

With trembling hands, Joana slapped a still unconscious Rogue across the face. The sting of her palm against the other woman's cheek served as a sharp jolt of reanimation. Rogue moaned lightly at the sharp pain. Satisfied with that; Joana resumed her activity.

Downstairs, in the secret room, Remy LeBeau had reached his breaking point. No way he could be complicit in sexual abuse. His eyes briefly met one of the lady's terror-filled ones. There was a moment of understanding between them. It was like a unique bond victims would always share. That was it for him. He would die trying to stop it if he had to, watching idly would never be an option. That was especially true because of what he knew, after experiencing what he had in the very early years of his life.

The lady in question somehow felt he was not one of them. The softened look he gave her, he couldn't possibly be capable of raping her, like the others were prepared and keen to do. He would have to work harder on his poker face. Her supplicant eyes screamed a plead for help and it brought him back to the past. He had seen eyes he adored flashing bright with that same kind of terror.

Unwelcome memories invaded his mind clouding his focus. A young Remy stood alone in the room all the kids used to sleep in, watching them through a minimal opening of the door. His little pair of red irises, filled with intrigue and curiosity. He wanted to go and ask her for that goodnight kiss she got him used to getting. But the man was with her, so he stopped in his tracks and peeked through the small opening. The man caught a glimpse of the little watcher, his face partially obscured. The young boy didn't notice, and pressed himself against the doorframe, trying hard to make his breathing barely audible.

"And this one is for treating the youngest of the boys as if he is your own," the man said, slapping his protector's face yet again. "Don't get any ideas! He is not your puppy, your comfort blanket, or your redemption ticket. You, you are nothing but a whore. Stopping playing mommy to that boy. That one is a golden pass, a way out of our poverty. He is special, but he is not yours, woman. He is to grow up to be my ticket out of this shithole. The prophecy says so. He is mine, do not try to get him for yourself. Now, it's time to open your legs and stop whimpering. You are ugly when you cry," he punched her in the stomach before forcing himself on her. And little Remy secretly watched, tears streaming from his charming boy's face, hatred growing in him as he did so. That same hatred resurfaced, hate that had been dormant, buried within his core. It washed over him with the brutal force of a tropical rainstorm in January.

Just then, Joana dragged Rogue's half-dead body into the place. The beautiful young woman he came to know so well, his best friend, his ex-lover, the only constant in the roller coaster his life was. The vision of the woman he loved, clearly intoxicated, walking in a zombie-like fashion, did nothing to hamper his destructive feelings. He might not have his powers, but he still had his fighting skills and that would have to be enough, he decided.

"That man, he is an impostor, un traidor. The woman he brought with him, this bitch here speaks perfect English, not a hint of any Latin accent. You should have at least tried to con us with a Latina, handsome. You insult us with your stupid plan," Joanna accused him.

He narrowed his eyes at her as he passed judgment. She was the one who was a traitor, not him. A traitor of her own people, her hermanas. What was the price for her collaboration in this scheme? A marriage for show? A big house? A car? A make-believe suburban life? A gringo for a husband to show off to her family back home? Nothing would excuse her and justify her actions, the way she helped deceive those vulnerable unprivileged women, women who grew up dreaming foolish and unrealistic American dreams Hollywood sold them.

Everything those women ended up being subjected to: isolation, alienation, sexual abuse, domestic violence, and daily humiliation... How could another woman be an accomplice to that? Or was she a victim too who was just trying to live another day? That would be food for thought for another day. For now, Remy had a mission. He had serial sexual abusers to stop, once and for all.

Without a second of hesitation, Remy jumped off the floor, somersaulting backward, landing perfectly where he could reach for his jacket. He swiftly took hold of the garment, he had to ensure he did not leave behind the evidence they gathered that night, or it could all have been in vain. Those people were smart enough to possess some device that nullified their powers, of course, they would also have something in place to prevent wireless data usage. He would need the physical device in his possession for the videos recorded, the pre-set upload to the Guild's highly protected cloud most probably never happened.

His enemies watched him in disbelief as he draped the jacket over his shoulders, carefully aligning the seams with precision as if nothing was troubling him and he hadn't just become their target. With deft fingers, he guided his arms through the waiting sleeves, allowing the fabric to embrace his form. As the jacket settled onto his frame, he adjusted the collar, ensuring a perfect fit that accentuated his tall stature.

Quickly finding his weapon of choice in one of his pockets, he smiled for a brief second. He gripped his sleek retractable bo staff in his hands and looked at the group of perpetrators defiantly. He was focused, the red in his eyes brightened up as if they were flames, so fierce was his anger. So much so, that the red gleam could be visible even through the colored lenses he had been wearing to disguise his most obvious sign of mutation. It didn't go unnoticed, obviously. One of the men who were closest to him gasped in terror.

"Have you seen that? His eyes! He is, he must be…" the man stuttered. Not so tough now, Remy thought.

"A mutant," Joana completed. She looked at him with that disgusted expression both he and Rogue had grown used to throughout their lives. Mutants were always treated as pariahs, wherever in the world they went.

Unperturbed by their reactions, Remy watched each person in the room, calculating what his next move was going to be. His eyes were gleaming, his look was sharp and determined. He cracked his knuckles, bent his head from side to side, getting ready for a fight. Brian narrowed his gaze, ready to defend himself, and all the others followed suit.

The man Remy had thought to be Carla's husband was the first one to make a move. He lunged forward with a wild swing, aiming to catch Remy off-guard. It made him want to laugh at the feebleness of the attempt as he swiftly sidestepped the attack, smoothly twirling the bo staff in his hands. With precision and speed, he struck back, delivering a swift blow to the odious man's midsection.

Carla's husband grunted in pain but quickly tried to retaliate. He was joined by all the other men in the room. There were six of them who all charged in Remy's direction, each launching a series of punches. Remy expertly blocked and parried the blows, using the bo staff to deflect each strike with his usual fighting finesse.

"That's disappointing, to say the least, hommes. I thought you were going to make me break a sweat," he commented. His trademark crooked smile was in full view as he mocked the men.

Remy would spin the bo staff, creating a defensive barrier around him. He moved gracefully; you could say beautifully even. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasive maneuvers. It was mesmerizing. The men struggled to keep up with his agility and skills, leaving the handsome mutant bored even. He thought they were going to put up a bit of a challenge.

Seizing an opportunity, Remy swiftly swept Brian's legs with the bo staff, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Before he could regain his composure, Remy LeBeau delivered a swift strike to his outstretched arm, only to have his enemy completely defeated, lying on the floor with the tip of his bo staff pressed against his chest.

"Touché," he said playfully, with his thin lips stretched into a self-satisfied smile. He pressed the tip of his bo staff harder onto the man's chest. "Not so tough when fighting someone your size, huh? I will leave now with my lady, and I'll take whoever wants out with me. I can offer these women protection from the likes of you. They are free to decide, after all, this is a free country. You and your men are not going to move a muscle, you hear me?"

"Says who? A most probably powerless mutant and his stick?" Brian spat back at him, still under Remy's powerful hold, not able to get back up.

At that very moment, his worst nightmare became a reality. Rogue's well-being was threatened, as he always feared.

"Let him go!" Joana commanded. "Or I'll blow this bitch's brain," she threatened holding a gun in one hand, while she held Rogue's hair in a fist with her other hand, propping up her head and making her unconscious face fully visible for the first time since she was dragged into that room.

"Non," he shouted, but his actions contradicted his plea. Taken by anger, he pressed the staff harder into Brian's chest, slightly cutting into his skin. A tiny bit of blood stained his shirt. Remy twisted the bo staff against the man's skin, causing the man to groan in pain.

"Are you really going to gamble with her life? Well, I thought you had told the men here you loved her. Not so much, it seems," Joana said.

At that very moment, a flood of images and sensations washed over him. He remembered a sweet afternoon back in New Orleans when his father shared words of wisdom with him. He was only sixteen, but the words he said stuck with him for years and years.

"Be very cautious with love, Remy. Loving too strong, it makes you vulnerable. You don't want that. Love causes more harm than good; it makes you weak."

Back then, he thought Jean Luc was scolding him for his escapades with Bella Donna, but now he knew better than that. He was talking about this; about love he would only find years later. That's what he was talking about, loving someone so fiercely like he loved Rogue from the very moment he met her. It was that deep connection that transcended mere infatuation and evolved into an unbreakable bond. There was this sense of belonging, of coming home whenever she was near. Nothing and no one had ever evoked those feelings in him before or since. Sometimes it was heavenly, most times it was crippling.

His love for her became a driving force in his life, shaping his decisions and actions. It brought him his happiest days and would equally never fail to bring the greatest of pains. A force that clouded his judgment, made him lose focus, and ignore reason. And that was exactly what he was about to do, he knew it, but couldn't stop himself.

No one can say he wasn't warned. He should have listened to his father's advice. Too bad he always sucked at following rules. How could he not love Anna Marie for all that she was? And it was because he wanted to protect her no matter what that he acted the way he did. Clumsily, disorganized. His eyes never wavered from the gleaming barrel of the gun that was pointed in her direction, he was too obvious, and he would kick himself for that rookie mistake later.

Remy's heart pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sounds, ignoring the opponents he had left injured, but not completely neutralized, lying on the floor. He approached the woman who dared to threaten his Rogue and fought her off with every ounce of strength he possessed, using his training and instinct to disarm his opponent. With a burst of sheer willpower, he managed to wrestle the gun from the woman's grip, sending it clattering to the floor.

Before Joana could do anything, he took Rogue's in his arms. His heart was heavy with tension and concern as he looked down at his beloved cradled in his arms. Her face was pale, her eyes rolling back, and her breathing would come in shallow gasps. It was unsettling.

Determined and focused, he adjusted his grip, ensuring her comfort despite the urgency of the situation. His eyes were filled with a mix of worry and determination as he scanned their surroundings, searching for the nearest point of escape.

Unfortunately, they were on the basement level, and the only way out would involve climbing the narrow stairs back up. With every step he took, he could feel the weight of her body pressing against his chest. When this was over, he thought, he could imagine her scolding him.

"Wasn't that something, sugar? It seems your plans A to Z were not that effective, ain't that the truth, swamp rat? I always knew that something in that milk wasn't clean," she would say and give him that unimpressed once over like a true Southerner. Just one raise of that eyebrow that would judge the hell out of you.

Yes, he hoped that they would manage to laugh about that situation one day. Odds were not looking great in the present, though.

His strides were purposeful, his movements steady and sure, as he navigated the hidden room, his sole focus on delivering her to safety. Her every whimper and wince ignited a fierce protectiveness within him, urging him forward with an unyielding resolve. The tall slim man reached the door and urged the two ladies who had just escaped yet another rape to follow him.

"If you want out, please, come with me," he said. One of them understood what he said and she quickly told the other one in Spanish what Remy had offered.

The two women exchanged worried looks, both scared to make a move, but finally took shy and uncertain steps away from their partners. But just then, a sharp crack shattered the silence as a gunshot pierced through the room. The women cowered into the closest corner they could find. Pain exploded through Remy's arm as a searing agony radiated from the impact. He wasn't badly hurt, or so he thought. Blood from the wound stained his shirt and dripped onto Rogue's body. The metallic scent of iron filled his nostrils, mingling with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Even so, at that exact moment, his main concern was still Rogue's safety. Despite the sharp pain, he held her tight and gently touched her face. He tried to access her condition. Was she okay? Had she been shot too?

"Anna, mon amour, can you hear me? Please, say something, chére," he whispered, caressing her cheek softly with his fingers. Time seemed to slow down and all noise was in the background. For a moment, he forgot where he was, he realized he had become lightheaded. But he wasn't bleeding that heavily, or was he? Rogue's eyes flickered and she seemed a bit more responsive. He realized her powers were manifesting, she was unknowingly absorbing him. Not as deadly as all the other times she had absorbed him before. He realized it was her powers were active but very faint.

Whatever was neutering their powers must not have been fully effective in the very spot they were now. Upstairs, he saw that she was unable to deter Joanna's advances by kissing her. But down there, some portions of her powers were still in place, he hoped any lifeforce she managed to suck out of him would get her back to normal soon enough.

He gently placed Rogue on the floor, propping her up, her head found a wall and she leaned into it for support. She moaned lightly, for the first time she opened her eyes and slowly regained consciousness. With a flicker of determination in his eyes, Remy checked on his powers. He could still feel the stinging from the bullet wound on his arm but managed to reach into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to get his deck of cards. He activated his mutant abilities, ready to unleash his unique power upon his adversaries.

The card in his hand glowed with an eerie, pinkish hue. The pink glow was not as pronounced as normal, but it was there, and it was enough. He didn't need to blow up the whole house, just some small explosions would do the trick and keep those sick men away from them.

With a smooth, practiced motion, he skillfully shuffled the cards, each one charged with his volatile energy. As Brian and his followers started to close in, their weapons at the ready, Gambit's eyes narrowed, his focus honing in on the imminent danger. With a deft flick of his wrist, he released the first charged card into the air. The card streaked through the room, leaving behind a glowing trail of energy as it found its target.

"Je suis desolée. My cards are usually prettier than this, but I'm sure you'll appreciate the show anyway," he told them. They weren't as destructive, but they surely were effective in causing havoc.

As the chaos ensued, Gambit ran back to Rogue and the two other women, his breathing was shaky, and he groaned in pain. His eyes gleamed with a mix of triumph and relief. Rogue smiled faintly at him, seeming fully conscious.

"Hurry! Let's get out of here," he commanded and held out a hand for her to hold, which she took gladly.

"We can't just go and let these people get away with this, hun," Rogue said, her brows furrowed. She looked at the other women and her heart went out to them. She could only imagine what those women had been subjected to time and again. "Remy, they must be stopped. Do we have everything we need?" She asked him.

"We do, chére. How are you now, feeling okay?"

"I guess I'd have to feel better to die," she responded with all her sass.

"Let's just leave, shall we?"

She nodded at him. Both just couldn't wait to be out of that house. The two women also followed them out. The area they left behind was now filled with the defeated and disoriented who would soon be confronted by law enforcers. As soon as he had connection available, Remy would upload the videos to his guy who knew just what to do. Justice would finally be served.

Outside the house, the four of them got into the car that brought Remy and Anna Marie to that house of horrors, never to return. Maria was waiting for them. For the first time in hours, Rogue smiled an easy smile. She knew they had fulfilled their impromptu mission and this win tasted wonderful.