All characters owned by Marvel Comics
Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews, everybody! I've been having a real inspiration problem lately, and your feedback always keeps me going - I really appreciate it! I'm going to try a new thing for me and answer any questions here that popped up in the reviews from the previous chapters - I used to try and PM everybody that I could, but I hope this will help others who maybe have some of the same questions. So, here goes...
Ishandahalf - The bulk of our story is set about five years after Remy and Belle's aborted nuptials. Remy got into a lot of trouble in those five years, and the Essex/Remy connection (along with what happened to Jean-Luc) will be pieced together as we go - I never know if you want me to spoil things for you! Logan definitely went to Madripoor and Viper for help protecting Rogue, maybe not his best idea.
LEGNA - "Everyone is dead" - Yeah, I racked up a really high body count with this story. I must have been in a mood when I wrote it, I guess. Sorry if I am wiping out everybody's favorites! :(
Couplest - Magneto and company are still out there. The Shadow King's influence is far and wide, but has it quite reached all corners of the globe?
Thanks again to my other reviewers and readers - cnf, Linaewen'Z, slightlyxjaded, txpeppa and anybody else I'm forgetting - your comments always make my day!
Raven
They were herded like animals into a parking lot - blocks away from the burning casino. Some had tried to run for it, escaping the explosion only to find themselves stumbling into a trap, as literal demonstration of 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' as Raven had ever seen. She had thought about running, too, - using her shape-shifting power to blend into the background of panicky humans mixed up with Madripoor's mutant population - but she decided instead to see how it all played out. Besides, there really was no place to go. Farouk's people, she recognized some of the nastiest in the business, had the place surrounded, and were only too gleeful to mete out their form of sadistic justice.
Raven was nothing if not resourceful. Her cover identity had served her well these last few years, and had gotten her into places she never could have dreamed. She was loathe to let all that crumble now, not when she was so close to her goal.
"Simmer down, songbird, it'll all be over soon."
Wrenching her arms behind her back was John Greycrow, the mutant assassin known as Scalphunter. They had crossed paths too many times to count in her long life, but instead of flipping him over her shoulder and beating the living crap out of him, Raven played the part of the damsel in distress.
"Please don't hurt me!"
The voice coming out of her throat wasn't hers, but had opened a great many doors. People still liked to be entertained, and Alison Blaire, the Dazzler, had been one of the best in the business, at least until the woman had put one too many needles into her arm. Death had been a kindness, and the Dazzler's face and voice were one of the best disguises Raven had ever forged for herself. Raven's mutant ability didn't let her duplicate the powers of others, but she had nailed Alison Blaire from her retinal scans to her soprano. Explaining away the Dazzler's light projection powers had been easy enough, a couple of well-placed rumors that heroin had fried the woman's system seemed to have done the trick. Most people only cared about the voice anyway - it was the singer's pipes that had gotten Raven her regular gig in the Princess Bar, and a shot at Viper's vault.
Raven gave a half-hearted attempt to get out of Scalphunter's grip and shed some tears for good measure. It had been barely an hour since she had drank the Elixir of Life. She'd know soon enough if the information concerning its properties had been worth what she paid for it. All those careful months of planning, of positioning, it had almost been for nothing! Luckily, Raven had spotted that damned thief just before her set break. Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't gotten to Viper's vault first? Raven still hadn't pieced together the puzzle of the night. According to her source, Gambit had to have been after the Elixir, but it looked to her like he had been set up for Viper's murder instead. Raven had stepped over the woman's body to get to the safe in her bedroom while Gambit was still in the casino, and the Elixir had still been inside.
The taste of it, thick like wine but with the tinge of something darker, burned the pit of Raven's stomach. Would it be enough to shield her from Farouk's pet telepaths, or from the man himself? The Elixir was the only way Raven had found that could get her close enough to the Shadow King to exact her revenge.
Thunder rolled high over her head, and panicked screams erupted from the crowd. A woman - dark-skinned, her hair a streamer of white - dropped from the smoke-filled sky to land softly on the pavement. Scalphunter pushed Raven onto her knees in front of him, and other mutants were forced to do the same. Some of the screams became sobs, but there were a couple of stupid mutants who fought back, their bravery met with the sickening crunch of flesh on bone.
Madripoor had been a refuge in a world gone wrong, a place to hide, but they would all pay the price. Mutants were under the rule of the Shadow King. His world, his law. Those who disobeyed were tortured, brainwashed, murdered, the list of atrocities done in Farouk's name were endless, and judging from the whimpering around her, Viper's employees had heard all the stories.
"Enough!" With a flick of Storm's wrist, a massive bolt of lightning struck the center of the parking lot. There was a reason Ororo Munroe had been at Farouk's side since she was a little girl.
"Your mistress has perished," Storm boomed. "Madripoor has fallen."
As if on cue, the casino caved in on itself, the hundred story building collapsing under its own weight. More screams as billowing clouds of smoke and debris filled the sky and streets. The shaking of the ground would have knocked Raven on her ass if she hadn't already been on her knees. Storm was controlling the worst of the heat and smoke with her mutant powers, but a new sound emerged over the rumble, the steady thrum of helicopters.
Raven's heart echoed their beat. Had she made a mistake? Could she still make a break for it before Storm's people started slitting throats? The warning squeeze of Scalphunter's grip made Raven doubt herself, but Storm kept talking.
"For too long has Madripoor stood separate from the rest of the world. It is time her citizens used their gifts in service of their mutant brothers and sisters, in service of your King! You will be taken to Cairo for evaluation. If deemed useful, you will be placed where there is the greatest need of your talent."
Despite the dark puddle of blood spreading over the asphalt in warning, there was a struggle down the line, and the shaking voice of Xi'an Coy Manth - Viper's illegal Vietnamese telepath - shouted through the hand clutching her throat.
"Useful?! What gives you the right to judge-!?"
Raven wished the young girl would shut up. Xi'an had always kept her secret, and Raven screamed with her thoughts in warning, but it was already too late. She could feel the bloodlust of Storm's enforcers like a physical force, and Xi'an was holding a match to the gasoline. Raven caught the slight nod of Storm's head before the sickening crack of the young mutant's neck. It happened so fast, the thud of her lifeless body to the ground the last sound Xi'an ever made.
More screams while Raven plotted six different ways to slip out of Scalphunter's grasp, three of which left him with his hands attached. There was no way she could go to the pits of Cairo and remain undetected, not with the humiliating evaluation mutants were put through. Invasive scans, power inhibitors, she would never make it out alive. But, Cairo would put her one step closer to the Shadow King, and one step closer to avenging Irene.
All around her the mutants of Madripoor, now prisoners, were being hauled towards the waiting helicopters. Scalphunter grabbed Raven by the hair and forced her to her feet. It was now or never if she was going to escape. If she could get free of his hands, and head for the water…she shifted her weight into a ready position.
"Boss!" The roar of Scalphunter's voice stopped Raven in her tracks, and Storm stepped briskly towards them.
"Yes?"
So much carnage and chaos around them, yet Ororo Munroe stood with her nose in the air like she saw none of it. Immune to the suffering of others, obedient lap dog to a tyrant, Raven added Storm's name to her hit list. If not today, then someday, she would make Ororo Munroe pay, make them all pay, for Irene, for every baby left without their mother.
"I think we got one for the palace."
Scalphunter tilted Raven's face - Dazzler's face - towards Storm, and the brief flicker of recognition played at the weather witch's features.
"Extraordinary." Storm nodded and waved her hand towards one of the helicopters. "As always, John, you have a keen eye. A rare talent, and a rare treat for the King. Take her on your transport, and see if Emma will evaluate her personally."
Raven held her breath. Directly to the King? All of this time, so many years planning her revenge, could she really get lucky enough to bypass the pits?
"Storm!"
A group of thugs were staggering through the crowd, dragging the manacled body of a drowned man between them. Six big, bad mutant beefcakes, yet they were barely able to carry their waterlogged prisoner.
Raven's heart stopped beating. She knew that wild mop of hair anywhere - their prisoner was Logan! But, if he was here, where was Rogue? He was supposed to keep her away from all of this, to keep her safe! She struggled for real this time, frantically scanning the crowd, but it had been years since she had seen the girl. Little Anna would be all grown up now, Raven could have walked right by her and not recognized her face. She had to find her, couldn't let Farouk get his hands on her..!
"Time to go, sweetheart."
The butt of Scalphunter's gun cracked against the back of her skull. The world around her blurred at the edges, but she held onto consciousness by her fingernails, even as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her towards the chopper.
Remy
"Let me take a wild guess…nothin'?"
Her voice was a scathing stage whisper that set his teeth on edge. Over his shoulder, Remy could see Rogue standing with her arms crossed over her chest, the pout on her face visible even in the dim overhead lighting. He wanted to scream at her to keep her voice down - fat lot of good that would do - but he swallowed his anger. He had already learned there was no arguing with her when she was right, and he took full responsibility for their current predicament.
They had spent three days playing stowaway in the hold of a Japanese freighter, hardly his idea of a first date.
Scrounging the shipping containers for food or blankets had been a bust so far, the vessel seemed to be hauling nothing but car parts and cheap electronics. Thankfully, the cargo hold wasn't under constant surveillance. No video cameras, no motion detectors, but the crew performed regular security checks that had been easy enough to avoid so far. It seemed the ship wasn't transporting anything high priority, and the crew seemed to care little about the contents of the mountain of crates stacked in the middle of the hold. When they did come downstairs, the crew member that drew the short straw would make a quick stroll through with a flashlight, then continued on to the considerably warmer engine room at the front of the ship.
At least they had found water - a hose hookup in a deserted corner of the cargo bay - and a place to go to the bathroom. What a way to get to know each other, Remy thought, keeping a lookout while the other person used a bucket they dumped down a floor drain. Real romantic.
He dropped from the top of the shipping crate empty-handed, landing silently on the cold steel floor in his stocking feet. One more down, he thought grimly, but instead of continuing on to the next, he snatched his boots back from Rogue, unable to meet those green eyes. It had been his brilliant idea to escape Madripoor as stowaways on a cargo ship, but it hadn't been one of his more inspired plans. He had trapped them like rats in a cage.
"What," Rogue hissed when he stuffed his icy feet back into his boots, "yer givin' up? There's still a couple dozen crates down here! One of 'em might have some warmer clothes, or somethin' to eat!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood. The girl's stomach was tied to her charms. The emptier her belly had become, the feistier she had gotten. He had been trying to keep the peace, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his own temper in check the longer they went without a decent meal. What he wouldn't give for a big bowl of Tante Mattie's gumbo, thick and spicy, or a shrimp Po' Boy from Felix's, dressed just right…
Remy exhaled and pushed the thought of warm French bread, that perfect mix of soft but crusty, out of his mind. "We wastin' our time," he whispered, lowering his volume and leaning in, hoping she'd get the hint and keep her own voice down. Instead, she flinched back from him as she had done every time he moved closer to her. "All the crates have the exact same packing list taped to the side. Not a damn thing we can use right now. We need to search the rest of the hold if we gonna…"
There was the sharp wrench of the door at the top of the metal staircase leading to the ship's upper levels. The echoing sound sent a shudder through the both of them. Company, someone was heading their way again, ahead of the regular schedule they had been keeping the last few days. Rogue's eyes widened, and Remy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the shadows.
The freighter's hold was a twisting maze of platforms and pipes, the darkness created by the shipping crates making for the ultimate game of hide and seek. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they were caught. It really had been stupid to climb on board without knowing whose ship it was or where it was going, but they had been desperate. At least here they had a chance, even if they might only be delaying the inevitable.
They ran and tiptoed in the same steps, Rogue barefoot, Remy wishing he had stayed that way, the clatter down the metal staircase growing. He strained his ears while keeping his eyes forward. Two, no three of the crew this time, conversing loudly in Japanese.
Dammit, why did it have to be Japanese? Remy had a passable Mandarin, could even pull some Thai out of his ass, but his Japanese was pathetic. What were they after this time?
In front of him, Rogue stumbled and fell forward, smacking the steel deck with her flattened palms. Without thinking, Remy dove on top of her, wrapping her in his arms and rolling them both sideways into the shadows. She stiffened in his embrace and tried wiggling away, but he snaked his arms and legs around her, holding a gloved hand over her mouth in warning. He knew enough Japanese to understand the crew had heard them and were coming their way.
Rogue's heart hammered in time with his own, the heat of her body making him the warmest he had been in days. He backed them away from the voices until they ran out of room, the curve of her backside pressed tightly against him. After days on the run, that skin tight black dress was starting to look the worse for wear, the slit running up the side now showing the barest hint of the panties crossing over her hip. Remy groaned into her hair, and he heard her breath hitch when he moved his hand from her mouth to rest on her rib cage.
Merde, what the hell was wrong with him? The voices were close, too close, and all he could think of was running his hand up that slit…
The beam of a flashlight swung their way, and the pair ducked as one, sliding under and through a tangle of pipes as the light played on the wall and a row of lockers behind them. The beam swung back and forth, the tone of the voices teasing. Remy could see the men from their position, two of the crew snickering at a third, the man with the flashlight bewildered, his expression translatable even if Remy couldn't do his words justice. The man had heard something, he was spooked, but their search had found nothing, and his friends were giving him hell for it.
Remy and Rogue were silent and still tangled together while the crew spent a few hurried minutes searching the rest of the cargo bay. It felt like he held his breath until the voices clattered back up the rickety staircase, but when they heard the slamming of the door to the hold Remy sighed and relaxed against Rogue.
"Dat was close," he murmured into her hair and rested his chin on her shoulder.
She stiffened, their closeness of a few minutes ago forgotten, and that invisible gate she kept around her banged shut again. "Too close." She freed herself from the circle of his arms and caught his eyes over her shoulder. "How many times do I have t'tell you? You can't touch my skin! It's dangerous, I could have hurt you!"
Though he had only known her a few days, it was a conversation that was already wearing thin. Rogue's mutant power was initiated by skin to skin contact, a cruel joke she couldn't control that forced her to isolate herself from all human contact, but Remy wasn't scared. A girl like her? She was worth any risk, but so far she had shut down any attempt on his part to get close enough to prove it. Still, he gave her some space and stood. It was an argument for another time, especially after their close call.
His eyes swept around, exploring a new corner of the massive cargo bay, when his gaze fell on the row of lockers looming behind them. He grinned at Rogue and waggled his eyebrows. "What you think, petite? Worth a look inside?"
She rolled her eyes but smiled, and in less time than it took to tell Remy had opened the combination locks, rewarded with a feast fit for a king in the crew's lockers. Snuggled into a new hidey hole for the night, they proceeded to gorge themselves on packs of cheese crackers and gummi candies. It wasn't crawfish etouffee, but Remy hadn't tasted anything so delicious in a long time.
Rogue, crammed in next to him but somehow still keeping her distance, had removed her gloves to open a packet of dried seaweed. Her elbow was bloodied from her skid across the floor, and Remy frowned at the wound.
"You not healing?" he whispered, and she scowled at him.
"No, course not. Why would you think…oh." her eyes darted away.
He had struck a nerve and reached out for her, which was the absolute wrong thing to do.
"Don't," she flinched. "Please." She took a deep breath. "The fast healing, that…that wasn't mine. It was Logan's."
His heart sank. If the subject of her skin was a broken record, their failure to rescue Logan was the elephant in the room. Rogue hadn't exactly blamed him for leaving Logan behind, but Remy felt it in her stare sometimes, in the words she didn't say.
"Chere, I'm sorry," Remy muttered, "I didn't…"
She was shaking, fat tears rolling down her cheeks to drip onto the discarded cellophane wrappers. "I took part of it from him, borrowed it with my powers, and those bastards…" she couldn't finish the thought, it was too much, and Remy finally pulled her into his embrace.
"It's okay," he murmured. "That Logan as tough as he looks? There's no way he didn't survive that fall."
"I should have looked for him," she growled. "He never would have left me behind!"
"And let Storm take you straight to the Shadow King? Is that what Logan would have wanted?"
She didn't say another word, just shook in his arms while Remy fought back tears of his own. What a fucking mess he had gotten them into.
Her breathing steadied after a few minutes, and Remy looked down to find she had fallen asleep.
Maybe it wasn't all bad, he thought. If he was being honest with himself, this was the most fun he'd had in years.
Smiling softly, Remy reached up and smoothed her hair back from her forehead with his gloved hand. He had never met anyone like Rogue. Where he came from, you played your cards close to the vest. Secrets were a bankable commodity. You never knew who you could trust, everyone you met was shrouded in deceit and lies, but this woman? She was an open book. For better or worse, every thought that crossed her mind showed right up on her face.
She wasn't much older than he was, not quite twenty, and had been adopted as a child, same as him. A southern girl, raised in Mississippi before her world had fallen apart along with everyone else's. Since then, she had been on the run with the hairy missile the von Strucker's had shot across the harbor, the man she only knew as Logan, the pair of them wasting their lives hiding from the King while searching for some stranger named Xavier, though neither one of them seemed to really knew why, their search based on the ramblings of some old blind woman.
He hadn't been able to share as much of himself, only telling her the highlights of the ballad of Remy LeBeau. Surprisingly, he wanted to give her more, but there was just too much that had happened since his ill-fated wedding day, things that he was too ashamed of to put into words, things that hurt too much. He ran a hand through his hair and traced the familiar scar hidden beneath, shivering.
What the hell was he going to do with this girl? They had needed an exit from Madripoor, and had found the Japanese freighter open and inviting in the bay, but then what? Jump ship at some random port? How would they get out undetected, and where would they go if they did? Remy had a little cash squirreled away in his pockets and his ID, but he doubted she had anything hidden under that tight dress. He couldn't just shake her hand and wish her the best. It had been a long time since Remy had felt close to someone, but in just a few days' time it seemed he had known Rogue his whole life, and that scared him. He couldn't just abandon her.
Still fast asleep, she sighed and nuzzled into his shoulder. Why the hell had the von Struckers attacked her? What did Farouk want with her? Despite her warm body against his, Remy's skin was goosebumps.
Rogue had said she and her pops had been in hiding for years, but had come to Madripoor to ask Viper, an old frenemy of Logan's, for asylum. Her mutant powers were definitely unique, he couldn't argue with that, they were the reason she had survived their tumble to the cement. Remy had never heard of a mutant who could borrow the powers and memories of another person. According to her, there seemed to be no limit on the number of abilities she could absorb at one time, the length of the transfer dependent on the length of contact. If she held on long enough, would the transfer become permanent? That would certainly be a useful thing to the Shadow King, he could have a bodyguard with the firepower of an army all in one pretty package.
Those damn powers of hers. What a thing she lived with, not bein' able to touch another person skin to skin without knocking them unconscious or worse. That folks, Remy thought, is what you call irony. First girl he wanted to get close to for the better part of a decade and she was so scared of what she could do that she held him at arm's length, unless she was fast asleep or freezing. Most women begged for him to touch them, but this one?
Should he have just walked away in Madripoor and never looked back? He had problems of his own that he didn't want to drag her into…
Leaning his cheek against her wild mop of hair, he laughed to himself. If only Jean-Luc could see him now. His father always said Remy was a sucker for a damsel in distress. This time, his weakness for the dramatic might get him killed.
The ship shuddered around them, and a loud grinding noise echoed off the cargo holds metallic walls. Rogue jumped, and Remy held a hand over her mouth. Leaning forward, he kept his lips a heartbeat from the shell of her ear.
"We stoppin'," he whispered. "I think they droppin' anchor.
Bam Bam Bam!
Remy winced. The pounding was loud enough to wake the dead, certainly loud enough to draw the attention of the neighbors, but nobody answered the door. He knew she was home, the slight twitch of an upstairs window shade had given her away. He knocked again, louder this time.
"Open up, Wild One!" he hissed from the darkened alley in his rusty Japanese.
Their decision had been forced on them when the boat had docked and the crew had begun unloading all of its shipping containers. The pair had snuck off and spent the last few hours playing tag with the streetlights and tourists in what they had figured out was Tokyo, winding deeper into the seedier parts of the city in search of sanctuary. He had managed to steal a pair of cheap shoes for Rogue and a hoodie to cover her wrecked evening gown, but they were miles from any safe-house, not that he would be welcome after what he had done.
What they needed was help from someone who hated Farouk as much as Remy did.
He raised a fist to knock again. He and Rogue stuck out like sore thumbs, and it would be light soon. They'd have to move on if…
The door opened under his fist and a tiny woman with closely cropped hair and shrewd brown eyes peered through the crack.
"It was stupid of you to come here, Gambit," the woman taunted. "The Yashida's and their atomic dog heel to Farouk!" She made to slam the door in his face, but Remy wedged his foot in the opening.
"Yukio! Please, we just need a few hours to figure out our next move!"
"Ha!" she snorted. "A few hours or a hundred, it won't matter. Don't you know? You're a dead man walking!"
She kicked at his foot, and Remy winced in pain but kept it firmly in place. The two played tug of war with the door.
Behind him, Rogue stepped forward.
"Stop this! You're only drawing more attention to us!"
Remy froze, Yukio, too. Rogue's Japanese was flawless.
The girl stood close to him, her upper arm against his, and lowered the hood of her stolen sweatshirt. "From the stories my father told me, I expected more of a Ronin."
Yukio gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. She stared at Rogue for a few silent moments before opening the door wide and ushering them inside, locking a row of deadbolts solidly behind them.
Ronin, a masterless samurai. It was what Yukio called herself, and it was the reason Remy had hoped the fabled Wild One would help them. Over the years, Yukio had been an occasional ally to the Guild and seemed to delight in skirting the edge of the Shadow King's boundaries, but Remy supposed even rebels had their limits.
"Thank you, Yukio," Remy started, but the woman shook her head.
"Don't. You have a place to rest and clean up, but I want you gone by nightfall tomorrow. There's a price on your head, LeBeau, and if Farouk's people come for you, I'm collecting."