Chapter 7

Loud music echoing, a friendly and inviting smile adorning his former team mate's lips, it was all a fleeting moment of friendly flirtation that quickly soured. His chest tightened as he caught sight of Rogue looking radiant, her ethereal beauty amusing everyone that watched the scene above their heads. She was leaning into another man's arms, dancing to the music in a sensual manner. A pang of heartbreak consumed him, and he couldn't bring himself to be in the same place where that scene took place any longer. Try as she might, Madelyne Pryor's attention was no consolation prize. Nothing in the world could console him at that moment. She too knew that feeling of loss very well and her heart broke for him.

But then, suddenly, something exploded inside her mind. The pain hit her like a shotgun fired into her skull would. She looked up and something caught her eye, and just like that, she was gone. With a drink clenched tightly in his hand, he was ready to make his escape as well. He would retreat into the night, where the pain would feel less crippling. Before he ever could get away from the ballroom, he heard the shrill screams cutting through the air, the sharp crash of glasses shattering all around him, followed by a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor and walls.

Somehow it did not surprise him, it was as if he knew it was coming. He was almost waiting for something like that to happen, so his fighting instincts flared to life immediately. That uneasy feeling he'd been carrying all day long clicked perfectly in place and it all made sense. In his mind, it was just a matter of time until the worst happened. They never left mutants in peace for long. He cursed under his breath, this was a predictable event. They should have been wiser. Too late.
Humanity's fear always found them, no matter where they tried to regroup, to avoid them, to hide. Crowding some of the most powerful and influential mutants in one place like that? Stupid and reckless, he thought. Suicidal, even. How could they think for any given moment that they would be allowed to become a nation and miraculously be left alone? Who really believed they would get away with it? Not him, not for one split second.

His mind raced as he took in all the chaos everywhere he looked. Rogue was still in there, somewhere in the midst of all that carnage. He cursed himself for not fighting harder for her, against her if that was what it took. He hated himself for not trying to make her see reason. She was too quick to believe the fairytale Magneto had told her and he didn't want to be the one to break her heart, spoil the fun, and tell her the world was not a good place. Her heart was set on it, she wanted it all to be true and possible. He, on the other hand, knew better than that. He had seen the worst of people, he could never be that optimistic. He had wanted to be wrong about it, to be proved wrong but in the middle of the relentless battle he was immersed in, he knew he had always been right.
He launched his body into the fight with all he got, it wasn't just about surviving anymore, it was about keeping her safe, keeping them both out of the crosshairs and trying to keep casualties to the bare minimum. But as much as he wanted to believe they could handle anything together, that old familiar fear clawed at him now, fierce and unrelenting. The odds were usually in his favor, but that didn't look good at all.

"Come on, chére…," he muttered under his breath, as he saw her from a distance. She was with him, by his side, throwing herself head on at the same obstacles he was facing. Magneto was also there, fighting with them, but he was just a blurred figure in the background. She was there with him and momentarily that was enough. The sight of her brought him relief and maximized his ability to focus. They had fought together countless times, and they always came out of each battle unscathed. She was like a security blanket of his, he realized.

The sounds of chaos were intensifying, a mixture of shouts, gunfire, explosions. The sound of fear, terrified people screaming, fearing for their lives brought some heavy and unwanted memories. It was hell in there. Mutants were scrambling to fight back or escape, and Remy knew that even a single hesitation could be fatal. Rogue could handle herself in a fight; she was strong, invulnerable even, but that didn't stop his heart from racing every time she threw herself into danger before his eyes. So, he kept his cards coming as fast as he could possibly manage, doing whatever he could to keep her away from danger.

The skies above were blood red reflecting the power beams from sentinels, clouds swirling like a gathering storm, absolute inferno. A huge sentinel killed mutants mercilessly, while the scene of destruction unfolded, as fire and debris rained down all around. Gambit fought with every ounce of skill and daring he possessed, his bo staff crackling with kinetic energy as he weaved through the fray, throwing explosive cards that ignited with blinding bursts of light. But something was different about this fight, something darker, more desperate.

Gambit had always been quick, always agile, but this time the odds were stacked impossibly high. The enormous Sentinel loomed above them, its mechanical eyes locking onto Rogue. In that instant, Gambit's heart froze. That was it. He made his mind, it was showtime. It was the moment he had waited forever and a day for, he would redeem himself from all the pain and hurt he had ever caused others.

There was no time to think. No time for hesitation. Without a second thought, Gambit launched himself into the line of fire, every muscle in his body screaming as he thew his bike onto Rogue's soaring body shoving her aside with a powerful force. The Morlock massacre was his darkest secret, he was unknowingly involved in it, and that had haunted him ever since. He swore to himself, never again. Not under his watch, no innocent lives would be sacrificed, he would fight and shed his life for others if he had to.

The battlefield seemed to pause, a moment of suspended time, no time to feel or to think. Their only objective was to fight back and fight hard, trying to save as many lives as they possibly could. Rogue hit the ground hard, her head snapping up just in time to see Gambit climb up the giant robot. Her scream echoed across the battlefield, an anguished cry, raw and heart-wrenching. One cry that Remy would never hear, his focus set on his goal, ears ringing as his heart pounded frantically. This was it. It was the moment he had lived for ever since his once-pure soul was corrupted as he carried out so that awful deed at the orders of Nathaniel Essex. Redemption, that was all he wanted. He could feel the energy flowing through his veins, his heart, his very soul. And it was strong, stronger than he could remember feeling in a very long time.

Little did he know, he was a clone. He was not Remy LeBeau, and those memories were not his own. But still, he felt them, and it rang true. Being a clone molded from the DNA extracted from Remy at the tender age of eighteen, he possessed the full power that the mutant Rogue loved with all her heart was meant to hold. The kinetic energy him flowing through was powerful, glorious, unchecked. It built up his confidence. Yes, he could defeat their foe. He would definitely go for it or die trying. His decision was made in the split of a second.

The sentinel, towering above him like a hulking giant of death, turned its cold, mechanical gaze toward him. Its sleek, metallic arm shifted and, in a blur of motion, shot forward, a blade-like appendage extending from its arm, aimed straight at him.

He could have dodged, couldn't he? Surely he was exhausted from all the fighting, but he definitely could. He was skilled and fast enough. Maybe it was all part of his plan. Instead of despairing or cowering away, Gambit smirked.

The sentinel's blade pierced through his side, impaling him. Pain shot through his body, but Gambit's clone's eyes never wavered from the mechanical monstrosity. It was almost as if that was part of his plan all along. He had wished for it; he had a purpose. As blood soaked his ivory dinner jacket, he gripped the jagged piece of metal embedded in him. His powerful kinetic energy charged quickly, spreading all over the machine like wildfire under strong wind. With a final breath, Gambit locked eyes with the machine, a look of defiance on his face.

"The name is Gambit, mon ami. Remember it."

The explosion rocked the battlefield, sending a shockwave that tore through metal and debris. The sentinel's body was ripped apart, torn into shrapnel that scattered in all directions. In the midst of the chaos, the clone disappeared in the blinding light, a selfless act of destruction.
When the dust settled, only remnants of the sentinel remained, smoking and twisted beyond recognition. Fuelled by Remy's memories and his very essence, his clone had shed his very own life for the benefit of others, died a hero like Remy always wished he would be someday. And most importantly, the machine was no more.

All sounds ceased for that very moment. All around, ashes floated about, dancing their dance of death, fluttering freely. It was almost serene and soothing to watch them fill the heavy atmosphere. The copy of Remy LeBeau lay motionless on the ground, smoke rising from his burned and broken body. The few survivors started to leave their places of refuge, relieved that the menace seemed to be gone. The trauma shared by them all was so intense that they could barely process what had just happened. The reality was slowly sinking in. In complete shock, Rogue crawled to him, her hands trembling as she reached for him, tears streaming down her face. She cradled his body gently, rocking him in a trance as if soothing a crying baby. Only he was not crying or even needed any soothing, as his very self, his essence, was gone. He was not there, just the shell of what he used to be, used to look like. Her voice shook as she howled in pain.
"Remy? Remy? I can't feel you," she cried, repeating herself over and over again. "I can't feel you, sugar. Remy, honey, I can't feel you…"

She kept crying and wailing, as if calling him back enough times could somehow bring him back to life. As she did not get a response from her favorite person in the whole world, Rogue sobbed, holding him tighter, even though it was clear that the man she loved, his charm, his heart and soul, they were not there anymore. She was holding an empty shell, his lifeless body, what she thought was the body of the man she longed to touch, to feel. It was a heart-breaking scene, and no one present had the heart to approach her to tell her that she had to let go of his body, or speak the obvious words: Remy LeBeau was gone.

That was just the beginning of the very troubled path she would need to tread: mourning the love of her life. Grief would not be the only feeling that would engulf her and take away the best of her, but also guilt and regret. That explosive combination would strip her of any reasoning and good sense. All events that eventually unfolded as they battled Bastion were powered by her complete and utter sense of loss and the burning regret inside of her. How could she possibly go on as before? There was no way to take back the things she had said to him, no undoing the stupid decision she had made that fateful night. She despised the world and everyone in it. But most of all, she despised herself. And now, all she wanted was vengeance for her man, no matter the cost.

The stages of her grief grew darker with each passing moment. On the very first days she was in complete shock, numb, couldn't articulate her feelings, and wouldn't speak to anyone. Feeling completely dead inside, all she wanted was to crawl into herself. Later came the rage, she wanted to lash out against everything and anyone on her way. She couldn't unbreak the heart of the man that died loving her so she would break anyone she felt was somehow responsible for his death. The quest for vengeance was the only thing that kept her focused and made her not succumb to the emptiness and depression inside herself. She would keep fighting until there was nothing left in her.
o-o-o

The aftermath of the massacre that took place in Genosha was a mixture of rubble and death. Once a thriving city, a promising land of acceptance and refuge, it now lay in ruins, its skyline reduced to a collection of crumbling buildings. Even months after that horrible night, heavy dust and ashes still lingered in the air, curling upward from the remains of what were once homes, marketplaces, and gathering spots. The streets, once filled with the vibrant pulse of life, were now littered with debris, bloodstains, little mementos of those who had perished in the chaos.

A heavy silence hung over the ruins, broken only by the wind carrying smaller pieces of debris. It smelled like death and decay. Not one living soul could be seen wandering those empty streets. The stench of death was so thick it was almost suffocating. Amid the wreckage, there were signs of desperate last stands. Overturned carts, scattered weapons, and improvised barricades could still be seen where Rogue once had tried in vain to hold back the onslaught.

Genosha had become a wasteland, a ghost town. A graveyard not marked by headstones, but by the broken pieces of a nation that never got to really be a nation. It had been tragically wiped out in a single, brutal act. Time had continued its march forward as it always does, but there, in the heart of Genosha, it felt as if the clocks had stopped, leaving the city to crumble slowly into oblivion, forgotten by the world.

However, there was one single heart that still beat faintly below all the rubble. Several feet under the destructed tower where Rogue and Magneto had danced in front of a crowd all those months ago, there was one man barely alive, encased in a glass container. His brain had been tempered with by Nathaniel Essex when he was only 18. One of the lasting effects of Essex's twisted experiments to grant him powers that were more manageable was becoming nearly invisible to telepaths. With his brain at such low activity levels, he was undetectable to even the most powerful telepaths. His near-comatose state rendered him unreachable to those searching for life. No hope for the real Remy LeBeau as he was undetected by Emma Frost, who had tirelessly aided rescue teams in scouring the ruins for any remaining survivors.

His very existence was a cruel secret, hidden by his own compromised mind. He was forgotten, as though he were some grotesque specimen, preserved in a jar like a dead animal in a school lab, kept alive by accident. The forces that kept him living were neither monitored nor controlled. Mr. Sinister had left the building that night, never to return. Remy had been an interesting little project that he was too keen to move away from once his life and his cover were endangered. He abandoned the handsome young man's body there as if he was nothing but a lab rat. And truth of the matter was that he really became nothing. His clone had been buried in his place, his friend had wept for him, lamented his death. The love of his life moved from numbness to deep depression, and finally to an unstoppable rage. For all purposes and effects, he was dead and long gone. While the world above moved on from the tragedy, and the most of X-Men were time displaced after battling Bastion, this man remained lost beneath the rubble, out of reach from those who could have saved him, locked in a fragile space between life and death. But that was about to change.

Apocalypse first encountered the X-Men when they were sent back in time, to a time when he was simply known as En Sabah Nur. Among the curious bunch, he met Rogue. Back then, before he had grown to be an all-powerful, knowledgeable in a variety of fields, the strongest and oldest mutant to ever live, that lady was different from everything he knew. That striking beauty was overshadowed by her sad, green eyes. Intrigued, he probed into her mind and uncovered the depth of her sorrow, her lingering sadness, and sense of loss. What astonished him most was how weak and fragile these modern mutants appeared, their emotions clouding their strength, limiting their growth.

Curious, Apocalypse dig deep into the memories of these strangers, learning about the pain and loss that had shaped them. A place of devastation haunted their thoughts, and his curiosity was piqued. Being driven by his belief in the survival of the fittest, Apocalypse saw an opportunity. He decided to toy with these mutants, to test them, to push them to confront their inner demons and grow stronger. But first, he had to see it for himself. He had to go to the place that tormented them the most, to try to feel what they felt and understand how an event could bring mutants as powerful as they could be down to the ground like that.

As the world's first and most powerful mutant, Apocalypse felt like a god, with a destiny to shape the world according to his vision. He believed that only the strongest deserved to survive. But how strong could these mutants, seemingly inferior to him, truly become? That was the question driving him, and he was eager to find out. Once he got there, he felt it and that filled his whole being with the satisfaction of finally understanding what those mutants he had met centuries ago and again, and again in their own original timeline.

"So much pain, my children. So much death," he muttered to himself.
It wasn't long until he was able to detect what no one else had been able to learn yet. There was life still in that place of despair, hidden somewhere, under layers and layers of rubble. The pulse was faint, coherent thoughts non-existent. He didn't even dream in the state Sinister left him. Funny Nathaniel did that, left his project behind. After all, he was to Apocalypse what Remy LeBeau was to Mr. Sinister, a consequence of their interference, a product of their genius.

The ruins of Genosha gave way as Apocalypse descended into the wreckage, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light that filtered through cracks in the crumbling tower. Beneath his feet, stone and debris shifted as though the very earth itself feared him. Deep below the surface, hidden in what remained of a half-collapsed room, Remy LeBeau's nearly dead body lay trapped, his life sustained by the remnants of advanced technology that had somehow supported his life despite the destruction. At the sight of the young man's body, he smiled with satisfaction.

"Oh, I have plans for you, my child. You will grow to be the greatest of them all."