Those unique eyes of his opened for the very first time in months. Silently, he took in his surroundings, his breathing shallow and rapid and heartbeat racing. He made no questions, his body showed no signs of recognition or understanding of the world around him. The young mutant who had been left for dead was a seemingly an empty war tool created by Apocalypse. He had been completely reformulated and repurposed for battle.
Though his face still bore the striking features it once had, everything else had changed. His skin had taken on a pallid, grayish hue, and his once chocolate brown hair had grown long during the time he spent as an experimental creature inside a test tube. After Apocalypse's work, his hair had turn ghostly white. He couldn't be easily recognized as Remy LeBeau. In fact, he was no longer Remy, in all honesty. The handsome thief, skilled lover, the cheat and the hero, all his personas were lost or perhaps deeply buried somewhere inside. He seemed to be unreachable, his true essence had been drowned by the weight of what Apocalypse had done to him. Sadly, Remy LeBeau had not been saved from his misfortune. On the contrary, he had been erased, leaving behind only a cold, lifeless weapon in his place.
Apocalypse observed his creation with a cold satisfaction. Remy LeBeau, once so full of life, beauty and charisma, was now something else entirely, a being crafted for a singular purpose: death. The physical transformation had worked perfectly but was it enough? He was the perfect candidate to become his highly esteemed horseman of Death. There was this dormant anger, heartbreak, jealousy and hurt in him. All emotions there were like fuel to fire, the perfect combination that leads mankind to hurt, to kill.
The new gray in his skin, the stark white hair, the lifeless eyes were all signs of the rebirth that Apocalypse had engineered. He had stripped away the weaknesses of humanity, the complexities of emotion and conscience, leaving only a pure instrument of death. And yet, there was something more, perhaps something missing. Apocalypse knew that Remy's transformation could not be merely physical, he would have to test him in a deeper level. Deep inside, there was rage, a fury born from years of abandonment, betrayal, from the people that he loved the most, his own family. There was also the rejection, heartache, and loss. All those key ingredients buried beneath the surface were what Apocalypse hoped would be the source of inspiration and energy for his brand-new Horseman of Death.
Standing before his creation, Apocalypse's lips curled into a rare smile. He could feel the raw, untapped potential inside Remy. But potential alone wasn't enough. It had to be tested, sharpened, forced into action. Only then could Apocalypse know if Remy was truly ready to serve as Death.
"It is time," Apocalypse said, his voice low and commanding, reverberating through the chamber. "Do you like the palace I've made for us out of all this rubble?" He asked him about the recently reconstructed tower he had crafted himself using all the materials left behind. Remy, or shall we say, Death, didn't respond and kept his facial expressions as placid as ever.
Apocalypse stepped closer, his imposing figure towering over Remy.
"I have given you new life, Remy LeBeau. But it is not enough to simply exist. You must prove your worth. The anger you carry within you, it must be unleashed. Only through destruction will you understand what you have become."
Remy remained silent, his face impassive, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something awakening, or perhaps his original self screaming inside to get out. Apocalypse trusted his own process; he had done this before. And he hoped he wouldn't need to do it again, for he had perfected his techniques and chosen the perfect recipient to receive his advanced technology and enhancements.
"I've brought you a present, Death, my child. One you will use to reach your full potential and prove to me I made the right choice when I chose to save you and transform you into such a powerful one. Follow me," he commanded, and his newest horseman obeyed promptly, without ever uttering a single word. "You will enjoy this, I'm sure."
He took him to another chamber in the tower. They had to descend a few uneven steps to a room that had been mostly spared from the destruction all around. Somehow, that familiar room was still holding up. Cracked windows and broken mirrors, yes. But apart from that and a crack in the floor, it was still usable for the purpose it was intended for. One thing was for sure: it was much better than the basement where he had been forgotten for all those months.
The room they entered was the same one Remy was occupying when Rogue came to give him the most dreadful news about her decision, completely smashing his heart to pieces in the process. Could Apocalypse have chosen that place on purpose? Maybe it just happened to be one of the rooms in the tower that was best preserved after the attacks that led to the mutant massacre. Still, it was too much of a coincidence. As soon as the two tall figures walked into the room, he heard a familiar voice calling out his name.
"Remy! Remy? Is that you?"
The woman, who had been sitting cross-legged in a corner of the room and hugging herself, quickly jumped to her feet at the sight of the two men. That was Rogue, the present Apocalypse had promised him. Seeing Death for the very first time, she froze in place as she watched him in astonishment. She was a vision to behold, definitely not as polished and made-up as the last time they met in that same room, but she was still beautiful in a wild, untamed way. Her curly hair was cascading freely over her semi-naked body. Little of her appetizing body was left to imagination as she was wearing rags of her old villainous green and white uniform, a uniform Remy LeBeau had never seen her wear because he met her at a later stage in her still young life.
The rags of her old uniform clung to her most perfect curves, torn and dirtied from the long months of fighting and survival. The green and white fabric, once a symbol of her fierceness and defiance, now hung in tatters, barely concealing the bruises and cuts beneath. All that beautiful skin Remy LeBeau once desperately dreamed of caressing with his bare fingers were in full view, but it brought no satisfaction to see her in such a state. He remained in silence; his eyes were cold and distant, indifferent and impossible to read. He looked at her, but she could tell it was as if he didn't really see her. Rogue's bare feet stood on the cracked floor, and she shivered slightly in the cold air. Her eyes were brimming with tears while they locked on Remy's face, searching desperately for some sign of recognition on his part.
Could it be really him? Had she been tricked? That was what Apocalypse had offered her, the chance to see her man. She accepted it promptly, she would do anything to see him again, even if it was for just one last time, even if it was the last thing she ever did in that damned life of hers.
The more she looked at him, the harder it was for her to battle the urge to let those tears roll down her face. The figure she saw before her had his same facial features, even though his skin color was all wrong. Gone was his sun-kissed skin that made her mouth water and her heart and soul to dream of him for years, dream of touching and kissing that beautiful, tanned skin of his. Seeing him in front of her, alive, it was more than she could have ever dreamed of. His hair, so much longer than she remembered, looked like Skid Row's Sebastian Bach's hair, she decided, except that his was now white. She took a deep breath as she concluded that yes, it could be him. But she needed a confirmation. She took a step towards him, and another, and another. Neither Death or Apocalypse showed any reaction, so she took all her chances and walked to him until her face was inches away from his, eyes still glued to his.
"I held his dead body inside my arms for as long as they let me. They buried him when I couldn't bring myself to do it… It can't be. I don't know what I was thinking! You… you tricked me!"
"Silly woman, that was just a disposable clone," Apocalypse told her. "This is the real Remy LeBeau, the man whose heart you broke, the rejection, the hurt and the anger he had trapped inside him were the perfect fuel for him to become who he is now. My horseman of Death."
"Remy? Remy, please, sugar. Say something. Is this really you?"
The only response she received were his eyes, now completely blood-red, staring back into her emerald green ones.
"You said you wanted to see him, even if it was the last thing you did. I kept my promise to you. Here he is, and here you are. You will be the first person he gets to kill, the first of many that will come, for he is destined for so much more. He will help me cleanse mutantkind, the ones who survive are the ones who will have earned the right to exist," the odious villain declared but Rogue was not intimidated, not in the least.
"Remy, it's me, Remy! Your chére! I missed you; I chose you! You have to know that I chose you!"
It was so frustrating that she didn't get a word from him, a gesture, only that cold stare he was giving her.
"I love you, sugar," she confessed, in all her desperation. "I love you, you fool. Now wake up from this trance already!"
Rogue stood there, her eyes wide with shock, reflecting a flicker of hope that quickly dimmed as she took in the sight before her. Her once-vibrant hair, streaked with the signature white locks, hung in loose, tangled curls, untamed and wild. Her skin, though still radiant, bore the wear of battle and exhaustion. She looked like a shadow of the confident woman who had once graced this room, her strength now tempered by a vulnerability that was hard to hide.
But what she found was not the Remy LeBeau she knew. The man who had once been her lover, her partner in both crime and redemption, stood before her, but he was no longer the same. His gaze was empty, void of the warmth and mischief that had once drawn her in. There was no trace of the charming smile she had loved, no flicker of the rogue spirit that had made him so hot, so irresistible. The Cajun spice everyone wish they could sprinkle up in their lives.
"Remy..." she whispered, her voice catching in her throat, as if saying his name enough times would somehow bring him back.
But nothing in his cold, pale face indicated he even knew who she was. It was as though Apocalypse had not only transformed his body but stripped him of the very essence that made him Remy LeBeau.
At that very instant, in a sudden movement, his hand shot forward, taking her by surprise. He gripped her neck and began to choke her. Her eyes widened in shock, choking sounds escaping her luscious lips. She didn't fight back but covered his hand with hers as he squeezed it tightly around her throat.
"You can't kill what is already dead, Rogue. Your powers won't work on him," he commented with a sneer, disdain for the woman clear on his face.
"That's it, my boy. Hurt her, torture her, rape her, do whatever you please. Rogue will be your complete enlightenment, your rite of passage. Once you kill her, you will be whole. You will be ready to serve as my Horseman of Death," Apocalypse declared solemnly.
"No!" Rogue cried with what was left of air, just then, she felt his grip loosen a bit. "He would never! Remy would never!"
"Once he's done playing with you, the Remy LeBeau you knew will be erased completely from existence. I have enhanced him, but after severing ties with your annoying presence, he will be perfect," Apocalypse told her. Then, turning to Death, he gave his final command before leaving the room. "When I return, I want her dead. And you, you will be ready once this woman is no more."
Apocalypse left them to go back to traveling in time and bring the other X-Men he had carefully chosen to be the remainder of his Horsemen: War, Famine and Pestilence. He trusted Death to follow his instruction and bring about his own transformation to completion, by executing the orders he was given. When he joined him back, Apocalypse hoped, he wouldn't return alone, but with the other three Horsemen. His dream team would be complete, and he would be able to put his plans into action at last.
"Remy, let go of me. Let's talk, let me tell you. You can kill me for all I care, but I need to tell you what you mean to me, what I realised as soon as I touched Magneto that night…"
That was all she wanted. The chance to clear things up with him, to explain what happened that night, he needed to know she realized he was right. Some things really were deeper than skin. Their love for each other was deeper than skin, it was larger than life. There was no day without him that she didn't think of him, that she didn't love him. She loved him with all her heart, even though she believed he was gone.
Surprisingly enough, at the moment Remy let go of her throat, let go of her completely. Rogue stumbled back, gasping for air as Remy's grip loosened from her throat. Her hand instinctively flew to the spot where his fingers had dug in moments before. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin flushed, and her wild auburn hair fell around her face, framing her beautiful green eyes. For a split second, he met her gaze. For the very first time since they were reunited, he looked at her. His eyes, no longer the completely blood-red orbs of moments ago, seemed haunted, frightened. Remy was back, if only for a moment. In his eyes there was a flicker of recognition, of sadness, of longing for her. She felt shaken, both relieved and terrified, unsure of what would come next.
"Run, chére! Run! He has awful plans for you. I can't control..."
His voice, his sexy accent she absolutely adored. How she dreamed of hearing his voice again, calling her his chére. How many nights had she fallen asleep with tear-filled eyes thinking of him, wishing she could see him again, for one last time. At that moment, tears fell freely down her face, a flood gate opened, so many emotions trapped inside. All the anguish she had felt during the past few months erupting inside her chest, completely overwhelming her. So much so that she didn't register the very clear warning her Remy was giving to her. She had no idea how hard he had to fight his entrapment inside his own brain to come to the surface and let her know he was bad news, he was dangerous.
"Oh, you should have listened to him, pretty," Death said, as he reached her effortlessly, grabbing her by the waist, bringing her body close to him. His lips were almost touching hers, she gasped in horror, and much to her own surprise, in excitement too. That was him, his body, his skin, his fingers digging deep into her waist, claiming her in a way that was both terrifying and thrilling. Mixed feelings she couldn't explain, or stop for that matter.
"I will not fight you; I won't fight whatever you do to me. You can try as you want to hurt me, to harm me, but I will not strike you back. Instead, I will make you remember your love for me," she spoke hurriedly. "That will set you free, I know it will."
"Silly woman," he said as he leaned even closer, his lips finally touching hers. He held her by the chin and then, bit into her lower lip so hard that it bled. She moaned in pain and he smiled at that.
"What happened before, won't happen again. I am in full control now. I am Remy and Remy is me and we are Death. That's it. I will fuck you like he never got the chance to do, I will treat you bad like you deserve, you will be my mistress, my whore. I will use you until I get enough of that need out of his system. When that happens, I will kill you. Is that understood?"
"Oh, sugar, I'd like to see you try. I'm sure as hell that my man, the real Remy, my mischievous, handsome Remy, he will outplay you. And I'll help him do just that," she spoke defiantly.
Death didn't fear her threats at all. He couldn't contain himself, and let out an evil laugh.
"This will be so much fun. I will enjoy killing you, Rogue."