Soul Keeper

 

 

Disclaimer: The main characters are not mine, this is an amateur effort written purely for the fun of it, and no money has exchanged hands, and it is not intended to breach the copyright: The X Men, Logan, Gambit and all other related characters are the property of Marvel Characters Inc and Marvel Entertainment, and their relative artists and writers and for the Sentinel, Paramount and Pet Fly.

 

X men Story, non-cannon. AU

This story is part of a arch of stories, in the next story,  Brotherhood of the Dark Guide. This story will be crossing with a GDP AU.

 

This story is for Gail, Casey and Chrissie.

With thanks to Connie for the beta reading, and for Mary for the help with the French.

All mistakes are mine.

 

Warning for adult situation and language, h/c

 

Part One

In the near future the genetic code of man will begin to change, and soon a new species of man will walk the earth, Homo Superior, gifted, or cursed, with powers beyond those of normal man, they will be hated and feared, and unless determined people take a stand, it could be the end for everyone.  Battle lines had been drawn.  On one side Professor Charles Xavier, vocal spokesman for the integration of mutant and humans sharing a joint destiny.  On the other, Dr Nathaniel Essex, a powerful mutant himself who believed that in the mutant gene, only the strong could be allowed to survive, to create the Homo Superior that would take their place as the elite of the planet, and he was willing to do anything to achieve his dream.

 

Dr. Nathaniel Essex looked at his newly acquired mutant. He believed with a fanatical passion that the gene pool of mutant life should be kept pure, and those mutants that failed to fit his profile should be destroyed, before they could breed and pollute the gene pool. 

 

This latest addition would serve as his enforcer. The Canadian Government had created him as their ultimate weapon, a killing machine that never failed in its mission, Weapon X. 

 

The mutant was secured to the examination table, the restraints were holding, but for how long? The cuffs kept his wrists and hands secured flat to the table to prevent the three, twelve inch adamantium retractable claws that emerged from the back of both hands from being used to help him escape.  The same metal covered his entire skeleton, which, coupled with his mutant healing powers, made the man nearly impossible to kill. The punishment he could take and survive was legend in the Weapon X program. Now all Essex had to do was turn Weapon X into his own private weapon of destruction.

 

Essex was lost in thought when he smelled the cigarette smoke, turning on his heels, he glared at the newcomer.  The tall young man was leaning against the doorjamb, his handsome face showing no emotion, one hand in the pocket of a full-length black duster.  Without reading his mind, he knew that Le Diablo Blanc would be fingering the pack of cards that he always had with him.  In the hands of this particular mutant, a simple plastic playing card could blow up a car, and a pack could take a building down.  Le Diablo Blanc was an Alpha mutant, and more and more Essex was beginning to believe that he might even be that most rare of all mutants, an Omega.  The young man had quite formidable shields to his mind, but nothing that Essex could not batter down, taking what he needed. He sent that message now, and saw the minute shiver run through the lean frame.  He backed it up with a verbal command.

 

“Get out.”

 

The young man tossed the cigarette away and it exploded like a firecracker, and then he left.  Essex made a mental note that he would be punished for that; later Le Diablo Blanc would learn his place.

 

Now Essex was alone with his new prize.  He heard a low, deep-throated growl, looking down into hazel eyes that had changed to yellow, and a feral rage burned from them.  “Good morning Wolverine, its time you met your new master.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The two young girls sat in the cell.  They could not see the lab from there, but they could hear the screaming, and somehow that made it worse. Mandy and Katherine had been kidnapped while on a holiday with their uncle and aunt in Chicago.  They had been drugged and brought to god knows where, and all they knew was that somehow they had to escape.  So far the Doctor had kept his hands off them, it was as if he was waiting for something, but they knew that the clock was ticking.

 

On the plus side, the Doctor would not know how powerful telepaths they were, and what they could do when they linked, and that might just be the ace up their sleeve.

 

Hearing footsteps they looked up and saw the man that had lead the gang of Marauders that had kidnapped them.  He was walking slowly, an ever-present cigarette burning in his hand, still wearing the floor length coat.  Come to think of it, they had never seen him without it.

 

Kat linked with her sister, forming a circle of power between them, and then she reached out to grasp his mind, and manipulate him into helping them. But she cried out in pain as he threw her out of his mind, “Merde, petite, y’ can get hurt in dere, keep out of places you’re not invited.”  His smile had a sardonic edge to it, which made Kat take a step back, they had seen what he was capable of doing, and he seemed to be on a hair trigger

 

Kat felt the shock wave of a telepathic strike, it was like a tidal wave rushing towards him, hitting with a physical impact, the man’s body arched, the cigarette dropping from his fingers as he fell to his knees, his hands clawing at his head as he screamed.

 

Too late Mandy realized that they had not severed their attempted link to the Marauder, and the telepathic backlash struck out at them. She grabbed her sister’s arm, and clung onto the bars of the cell to keep them upright.  The link between the three was stronger than before and his emotions washed over them.   His shields had been reduced to rubble, and he was broadcasting a raw sexual attraction.

 

Her face flushed bright red, she shook her head to try and clear it.  With a groan of pain, he managed to drag himself up his feet and stagger out. The heavy door at the end of the hall slammed shut behind him.

 

 

 

 

Leaning on each other, the girls managed to make it to bed. Kat was still out of it, as Mandy tried to break the link between them and the Marauder, but instead it was growing stronger. She grabbed hold of her sister’s hands as through the link she began to see images from him, blurred and indistinct.

 

The other Marauders, Essex’s clones of his first team, men now long dead, were drawn to the younger man, circling him, attracted by the raw sexual heat he was broadcasting.  He was outnumbered, but fought as they tried to attack him.  Glowing cards flashed through the blurred fog that surrounded the images.  Cards flashed and people died, then he was brought crashing to the floor, a kick to the stomach sent him flying across the room.  He tried to roll to avoid the follow up kick, but received a glancing blow to the head that left him defenseless. 

 

His attackers closed in to enjoy their prize, only to fall under slashing claws as a creature from hell swept them off the now almost unconscious Marauder.  When the newcomer turned, Kat screamed, and Mandy mentally pulled her sister back from the link, so that she could no longer feel what he was feeling. 

 

But she has seen the vision from hell, his claws covered in blood, dismembered bodies scattered on the floor round their Marauder.  The creature was kneeling down, reaching out, his claws ghosting over the Marauder’s face, then bending he gathered the man into his arms, one clawed hands holding him almost gently in his arm, and his head coming up, growling at another presence that only the creature could see.  The Marauder’s hand pressed against the creature, charging his shirt, blasting the man away from him, the younger man hit the floor hard, and he knew nothing more.

 

 

Sometime later, drained, the girls fell asleep.  Mandy woke first, the link was raw, just outside the bars she saw the Marauder, curled on the floor opposite them.  With almost a physical shock she realized that he must have, on some level, followed the thread that connected them back to their cell.  He was huddled on his side, slowly rocking, his arms wrapped round his waist, hugging his coat round him, his long hair like a veil across his face, and he was still broadcasting his emotions, unable to raise his barriers to protect his mind.  She blushed bright red, uncomfortable with the sexual heat from his emotions and shook her sister awake.

 

 

“Mister,” Mandy tried again, “Mister.”

 

This time his eyes opened, and she found herself looking into the demonic red on black eyes that showed so much pain.  “We can help,” when he looked as if he was going to ignore them she added, “Please Mister.”

 

She reached a hand out and for a long moment it just hung in space, and then, in great pain, he crawled over, she pulled him closer against the bars. Kat was already awake.  “Mister, we’re going to try and boost your shield okay?”

 

They took his hands, making their circle, but this time including him.  Mandy would act as the anchor while Kat went in, at that moment it didn’t matter that he was a Marauder, he was hurt, and would be hurt even more if they could not shut the sexual lure off.  Even though he had accepted their help, entering his mind was still dangerous. 

 

The mental shields that had thrown them effortlessly out earlier were blasted apart, and in his mind Kat ducked through the hole in them, moving deeper, her sister acting as her lifeline.

 

Memories flooded through to her mind, some were horrific, so working quickly she began to patch the hole in his shields, gradually feeling the sexual heat fading as it was blocked out.

 

Getting out was going to be harder, so far he had not made an psychic appearance, passively allowing her to help him, but she got a bad feeling about this. All the time she was working she was looking round for him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  She pushed back any idea of trying to leave an implanted thought in his mind to make him let them go, it was too dangerous.  With one final look at the shields, she began to withdraw along the anchor line only to find that the shields were moving, rippling like water, his mind was now coming back, and she was trapped.

.

Mandy swore but hung on to Kat’s essence as she felt the change.

 

Still in his mind Kat felt his presence, no longer dormant, but active; she whirled round to see him stood there, leaning against the shield, dressed exactly as he was in body.  She watched him light a cigarette, and then slowly exhale the smoke.

 

She knew it was not real, but the mental projection of her self still batted the smoke away.

 

 “Why y’ doin dis chile?”   His tone was curious, his accent heavy, she could not place it, and then gave up trying, realizing she was becoming sidetracked.

 

 “Duh, trying to help you, don’t know why, since you’re the one that got us here.

 

“Den why?”

 

“Look mister, you were hurting and broadcasting,” she could feel the embarrassment and he was not going to help her, “sex okay, you were broadcasting sex.”  She shifted uncomfortably, “ didn’t seem right.” 

 

“Mon memories?”

 

“I didn’t see anything,” she saw the look on his face, “Okay, a bit, but nothing I understood,” she shuddered, “whipped cream and chocolate, and that thing,” her hands making a vague shape in the air, “was impossible, it would be impossible right?”

 

A slight smile twisted his lips, “Sure cher, impossible, time to lower de wall.” There was a hint of mischief in his voice.

 

“Er, I wouldn’t, its like being propped up at the moment, if you don’t mind giving me a back door, I would appreciate it.”

 

He gave her smile and pointed behind her.

 

“Thanks mister.”  She approached the door.

 

“Merci cher.  Ne pas renonce l’espoir, y’ nevuh know.” 

 

Kat pulled back from the link and gave her sister’s hand a squeeze, as his eyes fluttered open and they looked into the red on black eyes again, but there was calmness in them now.

 

“Wow,” Mandy muttered, the effect was breathtaking.  Quickly she checked the link, pleased that this time she hadn’t broadcasted her comment to the older man.

 

There was a noise coming from along the hallway, “Gambit get your ass in here.”  It was Fitzroy, the Doctor’s assistant, a sleazy creep.  Shakily the Marauder got to his feet, he was clinging to the bars of the cell.  For a heartbeat his face showed the pain he was in, then he shut it away, pulled himself upright, and walked out, only Mandy and Kat knowing what it cost him.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Dr. Essex didn’t like the crudity of what he had done, but Gambit was a loose cannon, he always had to learn the hard way, and blasting his shields so that he could not control his empathy, or what the ignorant barely literate swamp rat called his ‘Charm’, had been a way of punishing him, until he was needed. 

 

Weapon X was like an feral animal, the Canadians had pointed him at the target, programming him with the information he needed to complete the mission, afterwards his mind would be wiped clear until the next time, each time losing a little more of the man, until only the animal remained.   They had kept Weapon X in a cell, denied any human contact other than that of his sadistic guards, until the next time he was needed. 

 

But to Essex it lacked finesse, Weapon X, code name Wolverine, was the world’s most dangerous killer.  He would be Essex’s enforcer, his own personal assassin, but he needed a keeper, and the journals in front of him had given him the clue that he needed, which had just been verified by Wolverine himself. 

 

Essex smiled to himself.  He had released Wolverine when the Marauders had attacked Gambit, putting the creature in direct conflict with his own men, and it had been educational.

 

He pressed the button to replay the tape, Wolverine had been like a rat in a maze given two exits, one would take him to the surface, if Essex had been disposed to let him escape, and the other would take him to Gambit.  Wolverine halted, his claws sliding in and out with a soft snitk sound, his head coming up, and he inhaled deeply.  Turning, he began to run down the hallway.  A bare foot had sent the door to the mess room flying open, and he had attacked, at the end of which only one other man had been left breathing, that had been Gambit. 

 

It has proved the report, now was the time to step up the experiment, anger replaced the smile as he saw Gambit standing in front of him, he had to make an effort not to show his total disgust at the idea that he had to use the Antiquarians personal whore to achieve his goal.  He snarled, “go and shower. To Weapon X you smell like the Bourbon Street whore you were when I found you.  Once you’re finished get back here and meet your new partner.”

 

The Doctor enjoyed the fear that he felt flood through the tall Marauder, but

he was also puzzled, Gambit’s shields should have been destroyed, but instead he detected they had been re-erected, not strong yet, but back up.  He toyed with crushing them again, but he needed Gambit back in the laboratory, and if he shattered his barriers, the other Marauders would try to jump his bones. 

 

Once Gambit had left, the doctor concentrated on Weapon X, the man’s mind was so fractured that he was unable to read it fully.  Revenge, death and hatred of all that was human burned through him, the man replaced by the feral Wolverine at this moment, the hazel eyes were yellow.  Without the restraints he would have been slicing the doctor open without a second thought. 

 

Essex ran a hand over the metal gloves that kept the three 12-inch adamantium blades from extending from Weapon X’s hands, the same metal that wrapped every bone in the Canadian’s body, making his skeleton unbreakable, a formidable weapon indeed and one that Essex was determined to control.

 

Finally leaving his prize, Essex returned to the report by Dr. Blair Sandburg of Rainier University, Cascade, Washington.   The Doctor had uncovered a new type of Sentinel, the only mutant one long accepted by the human population, a people that saw the enhanced sensed Guardians as the only defense against the rabid mutants that threatened their lives.  But Sandburg has set academia on its head when he had discovered the Sentinel Primal, the Dark Sentinel, who had shared so many traits with Wolverine that he had seen Sandburg’s work as a way of controlling the feral beast

 

Key to his plan was the Cajun Marauder Gambit, a strong empath, a level 10, he was going to be perfect, the trigger for the ultimate weapon.  Once bonded or joined their minds would merge, and Gambit would support Wolverine’s fractured mind, filled with so many lies and half-truths programmed into it, that even memories were nothing more than a snapshot of untruths.  The only truth the feral wolverine would accept would be that Gambit was his partner, and where the Cajun led Wolverine would follow. Gambit would give Wolverine the stability he needed for the man to return to dominance over the feral beast.

 

Gambit would be the keeper of the animal, and only when ordered would he allow the feral animal to come forward, it would prevent the berserker fury that had seen Wolverine kill 20 guards when he escaped the Weapon X compound, and happened every time the animal lost control to berserker rage. 

 

Now was the time to re-introduce them, and bring the experiment to its logical conclusion.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Mandy was thoughtful, “you know it would be a lot easier if he spoke English,” she paused and looked at her sister “do you have any idea what he said?”

 

“Don’t give up hope,” Kat shrugged, “at least I think that’s what he said.  I hope that’s what he said,” she added with feeling.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Gambit tugged the black body armor from the bag by the side of his bed, and for a moment just looked at it fingering the dark red stripes at the top of the sleeves. They were the mark of a Guild that would never accept him, and had a contract out on him, his very existence was an insult to them.

 

The Cajun Marauder pulled his armor on. He knew what they had planned for him and Wolverine, Earth Quake had made sure of that, for some reason the man liked him, and had even watched his back during their missions together.  He had been about to flee when he remembered the girls, he could not leave them now.

 

0-0-0-0

 

 

The explosion threw the girls from the beds.  As they got up the hall was flooding with smoke and through the murky light they saw the tall Marauder.

 

“Stand back chile,” the warning was given just before he pushed a glowing card into the side of the lock and an explosion blew the door open.

 

He grabbed Mandy and pulled her out, as she dragged Kat with her. “We’re out of here.”

 

“What the hell,” Kat muttered, what did they have to lose, they rushed through the maze of hallways, twice Marauders got in the way, but went down in a flurry of cards.

 

“Gambit,” the name was roared, striding towards them was Dr. Essex.

 

The Cajun pushed the girls behind him, “get out of here.”  They only got half way down the hallway when they turned back, the Cajun was charging and throwing playing cards, which exploded with the force of hand grenades but seemed to have no effect, Dr. Essex would stagger back, but keep coming.  Mandy threw her sister to the floor as she saw him discharge a full deck at exactly the same time that Essex discharged a ball of energy.  The two collided in mid air, the floor jumped up and then everything began to collapse, a hole opened up and the Cajun disappeared down it. 

 

“Shit,” Kat screamed.  Coughing, fighting for breath, visibility nearly zero in the dust clogged air, they crawled back, the man had helped them and they could not leave him. The red emergency light flickered and then went off for one heart stopping moment, and then it came back again.  At the edge of the hole they looked down, all they could see was flames, but the link was still there, he was alive. 

 

“Gambit,” Kat yelled his name. Then she saw movement a little further down, the floor had collapsed and crashed down through two of the lower floors, The Marauder was laid unmoving on a narrow ledge, and time was running out.

 

Carefully, Mandy balanced her sisters powers, as they struck down into his mind, his body arched under the pain, getting ready they struck again, his head arched back and he screamed, as the telepathic strike cut through his mind, and his eyes flashed open.

 

“Up here Mister.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Weapon X looked down from his vantage point, as he saw the two young females and the other older male emerge from the billowing smoke, across the river from where he had emerged.  The male was leaning heavily onto them; both the females had and arm round him, supporting him as he choked on the smoke. Blood coated the side of his face from a head wound, and blood oozed from his mouth and nose.

 

A snarl rumbled from the throat of Weapon X as he watched his soul keeper heading away from him, but the river blocked him, and the sound of sirens cut through the air, others were arriving now to prevent him stalking the man and reclaiming what was his.  But he would find him one day soon, and then no one would part them.

 

Part Two

Ten months later

 

Charles Xavier had located a new Alpha Class mutant in the city of North Lynn, just north of Westchester.  The city was a flash bed of violence with a strong anti-mutant league that had wormed its way into the structure of the City’s administration.  With his X-Men on a mission he needed a contact and pick up to be made quickly, this could not wait.

 

Alpha mutants were not as common as the newspapers would have the human population believe, most mutants just having low grade powers, if that.  Usually it was just a physical change in them, green skin, blue feathers instead of hair, gills. But in an Alpha Class they have powers that could be lethal, and they needed to be collected before they hurt themselves or the population.  If he failed there were other people, less scrupulous, who would recruit them. His dream, his passion, was for humans and mutants to live together as one, and along the way Xavier had recruited helpers, human and mutant; friends willing to put their lives on the line for the greater good.  And tonight he was going to need one particular friend.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Paul Taylor picked up the phone. 

 

At 52, Taylor was a Police Detective for the North Lynn PD, and had helped Xavier in the past.  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Hello Charles,” there was a pause, “How can we help? Another Alpha?  Any idea what his or her powers are?”  He felt his wife’s hand on his arm and mouthed Charles name, she nodded. “Okay, we’ll start looking.  Can you give me a fix on their location, right... give me thirty.”   Paul put the phone down and smiled, his wife was already out of bed and getting their warmer winter clothes out.

 

“How did we get into this Ruth?” 

 

His wife picked up her thermal boots, “remember it started with a phone call about a man called Logan.  Nice young man, short, dark and feral.  Now if I was only twenty years younger,” she teased.

 

Paul could not help but laugh, “then I would have to fight him for you dear, you know, I think I could win.”

 

He didn’t take offence when his wife laughed.

 

He snatched the jumper out of the air as it arched towards his face.  Ruth was already out of the door heading downstairs, pleased that both their daughters were currently at their friend’s house.

 

As Ruth stepped out of the house, she pulled her woolen hat on and waited while her husband backed the car out of the garage.  It had been snowing for the last week, and the street had that sterile unearthly look to it.  She shivered in the cold, hating the idea that some child out there was running for their life.

 

They had it down to a practiced art form; Paul would drive while she talked to Charles on the cell phone, relaying the instructions on the location of the new mutant. 

 

Paul had the police radio on low enough for him to monitor the traffic.  There had been a big explosion in the West End where the main banking and jewelry shops were situated, and the alarm calls were coming in thick and fast. 

 

From the radio traffic the perps had been identified as the Marauders, a renegade mutant group, and one of them had blown half of an empty building down.  That amount of power was frightening, Paul gave his wife a worried look, as it seemed that Charles was steering them straight into the war zone.

 

He pulled the car over and turned the sound up on the radio.  The Marauders had been flushed from the area, and the Mayor’s ‘Special’s’ had been brought in.  Paul’s mouth went into a harsh line, like most police officers the Specials brought a nasty taste to his mouth.  They were nothing more than paid bullyboys who enjoyed smashing heads, god pity any mutant that got in their way.  But the Specials were a political move by a Mayor up for re-election who knew that for humans scared of mutants, they gave the illusion of security.

 

Ruth handed the cell phone across, “I know Charles, but if your mutants in the middle of that, it’s going to be hard to get them out.”  He thrust the cell phone back, “they’re on the move.”  He put the car into gear and pulled off, fighting the slight sideways motion as they hit the iced road.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Following instructions they slowly began to track the mutant, his mind, Charles had said several times, was shielded, he or she was like a will of the wisp, hard for the Professor to pin down, even with his telepathic powers.

 

The figure came out of the side alleyway, Paul only had time to hit his brakes and pray as the car began to slide across the road.  The figure vaulted onto the hood of the car, their booted feet thudding into the window screen, than over the roof and off the boot, they landed, lost their feet on the ice, went down hard, but rolled and came back up and running. 

 

“What the hell,” was all that Paul got out, Ruth swung round in her seat, catching a glimpse of the man; she was pretty sure it was a man, with a long, floor length black duster, boots and flying hair.

 

She turned back to the cell phone.  “Don’t yell Charles, we see him, fast on his feet.”

 

A group of the Special came round from the direction he had come.  One hammered on the side window, making her pull back, the hatred on their faces and the need to spill blood was scary.  He backed off when he saw her husband’s police shield. 

 

“Sorry Sir, did you see the way that mutie went, he took the whole building down, he’s fucking dangerous.”  Quickly he apologized, “sorry Madam he injured three of my men, and did the building all with playing cards.  If you see him, bring him down on sight.”  A yell brought the man back to the chase.

 

Paul exchanged a look with his wife. “He can’t have gone too far, we go round the block we should cut across him.”

 

Smaller explosions followed the sound of gunfire; it was easy to track the progression of the pursuit.  Looking up Ruth saw a figure silhouetted on the skyline just for a second, then it sailed through the air from one building to the next, and Paul pulled the car to a halt.

 

“Ruth, the other door.”

 

This was a calculated risk, the same they had taken when they had confronted a man with a trio of twelve-inch metal claws coming from each hand, and hell bent on slicing and dicing them.

 

The fugitive mutant was trapped, in the dark of the alleyway he would have to leap the car to get clear, and already the yelling was getting closer.

 

“Pile in kid, or do you think that you can keep running all night?”

 

The mutant dived into the back seat of the car, slamming the door behind him, then ducked down into the dark interior.  Paul floored the accelerator and the car was already pulling away by the time the Specials came pounding round the corner of the building.

 

“Pull over homme.” 

 

“Not yet kid, too much security, unless you would like to explain what was happening back there?”  Paul put it levelly, watching their unhappy guest in the rearview mirror as he sank deeper into the seat.  He frowned; he thought he’d seen a flash of red eyes glaring at him.  He caught a flutter of white in one of the leather-gloved hands, as it came out of a deep pocket in the duster.

 

“Don’t think about it kid, or I’ll hand feed the card to you.”  Paul put it in his police growl, the one that Ruth always kidded him about, the ‘his way or the highway’ tone.  Now was going to be the hardest bit, getting the kid to stay long enough to talk to them.  He couldn’t see much of their guest, he looked young, long hair, pulled back by some kind of black band, his eyes were now covered by wrap-around dark glasses, his clothing all black.  His hand rested on the back of the passenger seat, and Paul was surprised to see the glove had been cropped back to expose some of his fingers, leaving the others covered.

 

Ruth turned slightly in her seat to keep an eye on him.  His coat was filthy and from what she could see of his boots and trousers, they were also encrusted with dirt and dust.  She could smell him this close, he could not have washed in days, overlaying it was the smell of smoke that seemed to cling to him, there was heavy stubble on his chin, and she could hear his nails scratching across it as he rubbed his face. He fished out a battered packet of cigarettes, pulled one, and lit it with the tip of his finger. Inhaling with a sigh, he seemed to settle back down, exhaling slowly, savoring the taste of the tobacco.

 

She beat her husband to the punch; reaching back she took the cigarette from the younger man’s hand and crushed it out in the ashtray.  “Nasty habit stunts your growth.”  

 

Paul had to look away quickly; the young man’s express was priceless. Considering the guy was over 6 foot it was rather a moot point. He just shrugged and seemed to ease down another impossible inch on the back seat, his knee now braced against the back of the passenger seat.

 

To be on the safe side Paul had decided on a looping course home, because he was getting the feeling that this one wasn’t going to come willingly.  This was no street urchin with out of control powers, this was something very different, and he had just surfaced on his cop’s radar, it was like an itch he could not scratch, and it would not go away until found out what was causing it.

 

Getting him out of the car safely when they got home was going to be a problem, the kid didn’t look a psycho, but you could never tell. 

 

He felt an increase in the heat in the car and understood, the kid would be cold, perhaps freezing, because that duster didn’t look all that warm. The heat would make him groggy, and perhaps slow him down that fraction of a second that might give them the edge, and he had the feeling that they might need it.

 

Trying not to be too obvious, Ruth slide her hand into her coat pocket and closed her hand round the stun gun that Charles had given them for their own protection. Sometimes it had been the only way to calm a frightened mutant down until they could be reasoned with.

 

Keeping her voice pleasant she said,  “Okay young man, we’re home.”

 

The man was fast, trying to push the door open even as Paul hit the central locking. 

 

“Fuck dat!” The young mutant’s hand snapped up from his pocket; a card glowing was pushed into the lock side of the door, and he threw himself sideways.  The whole of the car’s electrics fried, he twisted, his booted feet smashing into the door, sending it flying open.  Then he froze, as the barrel of the stun gun rested against the side of his head.

 

“Freeze mister, sit back and keep your hands where I can see them, up and empty.”   She didn’t dare take her eyes off him as her husband managed to get himself out of the driving seat.  “Great, $400 for the system and he fries it. Help a mutant and get your car trashed.” He worked his wife’s door open taking the stun gun off her as she got out, the last thing he needed was the mutant to hurt her if he tried to escape.

 

“Out you get kid, now it’s either under your own steam, or we knock you out, and you get carried in, it’s going to be dawn soon, so you don’t have a lot of time.”  Paul shrugged, “your choice.”

 

The man in the duster nodded, slowly easing out of the car.  He was just starting to straighten when he was hit by the stun gun, his knees went from under him, and he hit the ground. A glowing card tumbling from his hand, Paul only just had time to grab the younger man by the scruff of his duster, and drag him clear before the card exploded.

 

 “Don’t say it Ruthie, I didn’t have a choice.”  Bending he changed his hold on the unconscious man, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him inside before the first of their inquisitive neighbors got to their windows to see what the noise was. 

 

Somehow he managed to manhandle the younger man onto the sofa, and for the first time that night they got a good look at the man they had been hunting.

 

Despite the half-light in the car they had been right about their impressions, he was young and good-looking. Paul put his age as 23 or 24.  His build was rangy, perhaps a little too slim, dirt mattered his long auburn hair.

 

Paul opened up the duster, it contained deep pockets, and with his training he was inclined to remove the garment altogether, rather than waste time frisking him, when he could miss something. 

 

Carefully he rolled the man onto his stomach and eased the long black duster off, putting it over the back of one of the chairs well away from him.  The boots the mutant wore had extra protection, and he was dressed all in black, the material had the feel of Kevlar to it. 

 

Looking up he said, “He’s wearing some sort of flexible body armor.”  His hand traced over it, there was added protection round the neck.

 

Feeling further down the side of the other man’s body, along the thigh, attached to the armor that fitted him like a second skin, he felt a metal tube.  Paul pulled it out and passed it back.  Ruth took it curiously, in length it was only about 12 inches long, she ran her fingers down it and then with a gasp jumped back as it snapped out to five foot in length. “What the hell?” 

 

“It’s a Bo-staff, I remember seeing a demonstration on one of these when they were thinking of replacing the night stick with them a couple of years back.  Put that in one of the pockets of the coat.”  With a click the staff contracted back on itself.

 

Paul picked up one of the kid’s hands, checking them over. They were grimy and the nails bitten back. 

 

His wife disappeared only to return a few minutes later with the cell phone.  “We got him Charles, he appears to be able to charge up things, and they said that he blew a building down with playing cards.” She paused, “It’s called bio-kinetic energy?  So it’s no good putting cuffs on him.”

 

Her husband followed her side of the conversation, and motioned for the cell phone.

 

“I agree we can’t have him running around with that sort of power,” Paul thought for a moment, “I think that if he blows us up it’s because he wants to do it, and not by accident. This kid has full control on his powers, I would bet anything on that.” 

 

Just then he heard a low moan.  “Kid’s waking up,” Paul said as he waved his wife back from the sofa, at the same time switching the cell phone off.

 

The young man’s eyes opened and with a cry of pain, he threw his hands up to protect his eyes. He was in agony as the light burned the retinas of his eyes.

 

Ruth scooped up the dark glasses she saw on the floor, pushing them into his hands just before her husband grabbed her, pushing her behind him. 

 

Still keeping his eyes firmly closed, the mutant slipped on the dark glasses.  Slowly the pain began to leave his face.  His handsome features took on a look that was hard to read,

 

 

“We were asked to find you by the Professor”; He only got that far when the younger man reacted suddenly.

 

“Non, no labs, no experiments non!” The younger man tried to pull away from them, looking for an escape route, before he could act  Paul put in quickly.

 

“You’re safe kid. We can offer you a warm bed, food.”

 

“So y’ want dis Cajun to spice up your bed? If so y’ can’t afford dis Cajun.”

 

Ruth tried to calm him, “It’s alright, Professor Xavier isn’t like that, and he helps mutants.”

 

“Not interested so Y’ let dis Cajun go now, okay.” His tone dropped slightly and there was an edge to his voice, like honey soothing.

 

Ruth suddenly pulled back, she could feel herself drifting,  “Look, if you don’t want to accept our help alright, but at least have something warm to eat, and get cleaned up, have a bath.”

 

“Take my clothes off.”

 

“Of course, you can’t take a bath with them on.”

 

“Still want to get into my pants oui.” 

 

Ruth had had enough, hands resting on her hips, she pulled herself up to her full height, “Young man do not flatter yourself, it’s below zero out there, and you’re going to freeze if you’re on the street, and that mister is not going to happen.  If you feel happier with your cards take them, but you will get into the bath, change into clean clothes, then join us for something to eat.” She paused, “Good, Paul show mister,” she paused and cocked her head in the younger mans direction.

 

“Gambit”

 

“Right,” Ruth acknowledged the name with a small smile of triumph.

 

Paul smothered a chuckle his wife the unmovable object. The kid was lost the minute he stepped into the car,

 

“Alright, Paul show Gambit up to the bathroom, and young man,” she looked straight at him, “I am sorry that we had to stun you, and I know that you were hurting before that, so get cleaned up and we will patch you up.  You’re not a prisoner, so there is no need to run.”  She had decided not to try and deal with the gash now, there was time for that later, at the moment she knew that Gambit would not let her get close.

 

Paul cut in, “this way.”  Somehow Ruth knew that Gambit was not going to run, that coat he had left with her was more than just warmth, although she doubted that a duster would keep him very warm, it was some connection, more personal.  He would not leave that.

 

Gambit followed the older man up the stairs, somehow Ruth’s honest indignation cut through to him more than any honeyed words. He had tried to sway her, but she had pushed past his influence, and he regretted what he had said, but he still didn’t completely trust them, after all who opened up their house to a street rat.

 

“That’s the bathroom.” The man’s voice jolted him out of his line of thought, as he thrust some thick towels into his hands.  “You’ll find soap and shampoo in there, see you later.”  He gave him a smile and then started down the stairs before turning back.  “Gambit?”

 

“Oui?”

 

“Why the dark glasses?”  Paul asked..

 

Gambit raised a hand and pulled them off and looked straight at him.

 

Paul gasped, his eyes were red on black, he had thought he has seen red in the car but that could just have been reflection, they had an almost demonic look to them, but then this was no demon this was a lost, and frightened young man.

 

“Impressive kid.”

 

“Y’ not frightened of Gambit?” 

 

“Why?  They’re okay, a little spooky, but okay, I’ve seen worse.  See you downstairs,”

 

For a moment Gambit just watched him leave, with a shake of his head he turned into the bathroom. He could feel no hostile vibes from them, if anything they wanted to help, what he could not understand yet was why.  They were human, 100%, so why would they be helping a mutant?  There was more to this than the surface, but in the meantime he at least could have a hot meal, a warm bath, and a place to sleep tonight, away from the Specials and the dangers of the street.  So he might as well take advantage while he could.

 

Part Three

 

Paul Taylor had driven across to Westchester first thing the next morning, leaving their newly acquired mutant at home, to give a personal report on the newcomer.   Now he sat across the desk from the Professor, who was one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, but he never feared that these secrets would be plucked from his head, if anything the Professor had too many scruples.

 

“So Paul what’s he like as a person?” Charles folded his hands and leaned his chin on them, looking like a wise Buddha.

 

“Gambit, that is his street name, is volatile, really fast on his feet, very agile, and his reflexes are like lightening Charles.  But there’s a lot of baggage up here.”  Paul tapped his forehead.  “He’s not the trusting kind. He’s tactile by nature, but pulls back if he thinks there is going to be contact.  I certainly think that if he’s cornered he could be very dangerous. He knows how to look after himself.”

 

“You sound impressed Paul.”

 

“I am. I had a look at the damage he caused, and read the reports, very impressive.”

 

“Did he show any violence towards either of you?”  Charles already knew the answer; Paul would never have left Gambit alone with his wife if there were the slightest question about him.  But he wanted to hear Paul say it.

 

“Not really, he blew the electronics in the car, but that was flight or fight.”  Paul smiled “one thing, your life is going to get interesting, with two of them in the Mansion.”

 

“Two of them?”

 

“The kid’s more like Logan than Scott.  I would bet that in the first 32 hours he will have violated every code of conduct you have in the school. The kid will be pushing the boundaries and, oh by the way, he’s a chain smoker, so good luck Charles.”

 

The chuckle from the Professor was unexpected; “Scott is going to find Gambit very interesting and perhaps educational.”

 

For all the Professor loved Scott Summers, the leader of the X Men, like a son, he was all too aware that Scott was rather inflexible in his thinking, expecting all of them to live up to the code he did.

 

Scott’s first shock had been their resident Canadian, Logan, code named Wolverine.

Logan was a cold-blooded killer, trained by the best to be the best; he had joined the X-Men only eight months ago.  In the X men to kill was a last resort, for Logan it was second nature.  He could be brutal and vicious when needed, and anyone that has seen the animal side of his nature released, when he went feral, never doubted how dangerous the man was. 

 

But they had soon found that Logan has many sides to his nature, he had been hurt and betrayed too many times to allow his defenses down. His trust had to be earned, but under it all was a man worth knowing, a strong and loyal friend. The Canadian’s bad attitude was legend but it was off set by the fact that he did have a sense of humor, which you had to be able to survive long enough to actually appreciate.  He had become a valuable member of the X Men.  Now it looked like Scott’s headache was about to be increased by one.

 

Paul continued, “He’s Cajun, speaks French and English. His accent is pretty heavy, at times, he’s intelligent, but very closed mouth, and he’s got tons of attitude.

 

“Attitude?”  Charles echoed.

 

“You have to see it to believe it. Let me tell you what happened after we got him to the house, remember, I was saying that we had to zap him.  I know, I know, we should not have, but that kid was going to rabbit on us. And believe me he was in no condition to do it.

 

Earlier Morning..

 

Paul looked up at the ceiling of the kitchen above which was the bathroom, and the young man called Gambit they had rescued.  He turned to his wife watching her prepare a meal for a man who at this minute was probably riffling their bedrooms before leaving via the nearest open window.

 

“Quit worrying dear, I am sure that everything is going to be alright. I have a good feeling about this boy.”  She picked up a mug of coffee adding milk and honey.  “Now take that upstairs and make sure he did not drown in the bath.” She waited until her husband reached for the mug and then added.  “Make sure you knock, I think seeing a strange man that close might be bad for him.”

 

“What did you pick up?” 

 

Ruth shook her head,” just a lot of pain someone’s, hurt that boy in the past.”  She didn’t class herself as a mutant, she just had what she called insight into people, and the moment the young man had come near her, she had felt the need to look after him. 

 

He paused outside of the bathroom door, none of the other doors on the landing looked as if they had been opened.  Paul pushed the door open, and it hit some clothing, he eased in.  The air was heavy with condensation from the hot water.  Gambit laid in the bath, one knee was resting on the edge of the bath, his ankle hooked round the cold water tap, his other leg straight out, one arm hanging down the side of the bath, his head back he looked asleep.  The dark glasses on the closed toilet seat near the bath, where he could easily grab them.  Paul moved further into the bathroom, he could see a burn scar on the younger man’s chest; it disappeared down under the water. On his thigh were several deep claw marks still scabbed and healing, heavy bruising on his hip, again disappearing under the water, and claw mark on his left shoulder.  For a moment he wondered what to do, he didn’t want to make the younger man self conscious, so he eased back out of the door and then knocked hard. As he did it he missed the red on black eyes flicker open and watch him leave.

 

Paul put his head round the corner of the door, “you awake kid?”  He saw Gambit appear to wake with a start, almost going under the water, catching the side of the tub. He groped for the dark glasses unable to meet the police officer’s eyes until they were covered.  His body was tense, and his hand rested on a wooden scrubber

 

 

Paul tried to ignore the fact that he was sure the wood was glowing slightly.  It was to be expected for what his wife had hinted earlier. So he just continued as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Ruth thought you might need this to help warm you up.  It’s alright, don’t worry about the hot water, we have plenty.”   He handed him the coffee and then went out only to return with a clean pair of sweats.  “Put these on and we’ll get your stuff cleaned up.”  He collected the black clothing and took it down with him. As he walked down he was examining the sleeve of the suit, and the four deep red bars on the side; the top bar was a pocket, and inside some more playing cards. In his memory something began to stir.

 

Gambit yawned. He was tired, and between the heat and warm bath, he was almost asleep. He took a sip of the coffee, and yawned again.  He had let the older man talk, giving him a chance to wrap his charm factor round him.  All he had felt was the honest need for the man to help him. But there were nerves as well; the man was concerned for his family. And for that reason he could forgive him for creeping in the first time.

 

Getting out of the bathtub, Gambit caught a glance of himself in the mirror; at 24 his body already bore the scars of a hard life.  Twisting slightly he could see the bite mark on his left shoulder, already badly infected it had burst and was bleeding.

 

Without a second thought he searched through the bathroom cabinets, finding paper tissues and tape he managed to pad the wound and then struggled  into the sweatshirt and pants.  When he stepped out into the corridor, his duster was laid on the floor; he pulled it on, wrapping it round him, his hands frisking the pockets to find out what had been removed.  Everything was in place; even the Bo-staff was lying next to it the coat was the only thing that he owned. It was his most treasured possession.

 

The cough made them both jump, they were use to visitors stepping on the creaking steps, but the young man had by luck or choice missed them all.  Looking at that smug expression on his face, Ruth was willing to bet it was by choice.

 

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I made a little of everything,” Ruth told him as she ushered him to a seat and placed a large plate of food in front of him.  . She nodded towards the door; silently telling her husband they had to leave Gambit alone to eat, and give him time to think and perhaps decided to stay.

 

0-0-0-0

 

“Why y’ help Gambit.”  The young man stood in the doorway to the living room, in his hand a cup of coffee,, between the food, and the warmth of the bath, he was beginning to feel human again. But he still needed to know what was going on. Lowering his barriers, he tried to get a fix on the two other people in the room.  No one went to all this trouble just from the goodness of their heart, like this Professor they were talking about. Sure.  Professor or Antiquarian, all the same they all wanted a piece of him.

 

“You needed help Gambit, and we’re just glad that we were able to do it.”  Paul answered.

 

“Rig’t” The sarcasm in that one word was almost like a physical blow.

 

He eased himself down in the seat furthest away from them, the duster pulled round him, his hand rested just near one of the pockets.

 

Then with a sardonic smile he removed his dark glasses, and Ruth found herself looking into the red eyes that seemed to burn right through her. She made herself meet his gaze.  He was waiting for her to react to them like everyone had done until this evening, when the man had showed no fear of Le Diablo Blanc.

 

Ruth closed the distance between them and crouched down, so that she was level with him, her hand resting near his, she reached out and her fingers just lightly touched the side of his face. Again the flinch but he didn’t pull away. “Beautiful eyes, I can guess why you keep them covered, but in this house you don’t have to. Just be yourself, no one is going to judge you.”  As she started to stand up, Gambit caught her, his long slender fingers wrapping round her wrist, she immediately stilled.  It was then Ruth felt it again, warmth fused her face, “there is no need for that.”  She covered his hand, and lightly patted it. Only then did he release her hand and sink back into the chair.

 

When she turned her back to her husband, she mouthed, “I am all right.” But deep down she was unsettled, there was something more to Gambit than just the ability to charge playing cards and use them as weapons, and this was the second time she had felt it projected at her.

 

“So what was all the excitement about earlier?”  As a police officer Paul knew he would hear the official version of the events of the night, but he wanted the kid’s version first.”

 

There was marked silence.

 

“One of the Specials said that you took a building down, was there a reason, or did you just fancy a bit of demolition?”

 

“De Maraudeuhs, dey would have killed de ot’er mutants, Gambit had to stop dem.”  Gambit shrugged, “Dey we’re too many, had to brin’ de whole place down.”

 

“That must have been when you registered on Cerebro.”  Seeing the look Paul explained, “the Professor, he monitors for mutants, trying to locate and help them. He runs a school for the gifted.”

 

“Gambit too old for school.”

 

“Well they do other things as well.  Anyway, the Professor called us because he got a spike in this area, an Alpha class mutant, and a real power surge. We’ve helped in the past, and tried to help you.”  He paused, “looks like I interrupted you, you said you brought the building down, with a card?”

 

“Non, a whole pack,” Gambit’s hand disappeared into one of the inner pockets and brought out a pack of cards, he fanned them out, and they began to glow yellow with energy.

 

“Gambit,” there was an edge of fear in the voice that called to him.  The woman was frightened, and trying not to show it. He gives her a reassuring smile.

 

The energy seemed to melt back into his hand, just leaving innocent playing cards, he closed the fan, and they disappeared back into his pocket again.

 

“What other gifts do you have,” Ruth put in levelly, trying to control her voice, “because I can feel you, feel something.” 

 

For the first time, the young man in front of her seemed to shift uncomfortably, but not talking.

 

“So you took the building down, what happened next?”  Paul took them on to what he instinctively felt was safer ground.

 

“Den Gambit got away. Only de Specials came, and it became interestin.” He shrugged.

 

“I suggest you get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow,” Paul got up, “I’ll get the blankets, you can use the sofa, and Gambit we expect to see you tomorrow morning.” 

 

Later, sinking into bed, Paul leaned over and kissed his wife.  “Another stray in the fold.”  Cuddling down in the blankets, he held his wife close.

 

With only his own thoughts, he could not help sometimes to wonder at the risks they ran helping runaways, but his mind had been made up the first time he had seen a mutant kid no older than his daughter Mandy, beaten and killed for being different. He had sworn then, it would not happen again.

 

Downstairs, far from sleeping, Gambit sat on the sofa, the blankets pulled round him like a cloak.  He lit his first cigarette with a brush of his fingertip, and inhaled the smoke, savoring it.  He went back to shuffling his cards, before putting them down on the coffee table with a soft slap as he started one of many games solitaire, not trusting himself to sleep. 

 

 

0-0-0-0

 

Paul rolled over and looked at the clock, it was 7:30 am, it was lucky he was on late shift today, it would give him a chance to speak to the Professor and do some research on that armor of the kid’s.

 

It was then he saw Ruth’s library book lying on the side table forgotten.  It was a classic Terry Pratchett book, ‘Guards Guards’, it had a wacky sense of humor that he found he was slowly taking to, due to both Mandy and Ruth being hooked on the book; ‘All about Guilds’, ‘Assassins Guide’, ‘Seamstress Guild’ and ‘THIEVES GUILD’.

 

 “Oh my god,” Paul breathed out loud, now he remembered, the Thieves Guild!  Reaching over he picked up the phone and began to dial. A few minutes later he put the phone down, and re-dialed, “operator, New Orleans Police Department please.” 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Surprise, surprise, Gambit was still in the front room.  He had moved one of the chairs into the corner so that he could see both door and window, also he was placed so the light from the window missed him, and during the night he had changed back into his black armor.

 

His knees were pulled up and he was huddled in his coat.  With his dark glasses on it was hard to see if he was asleep, but from the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing pattern seemed to indicate he was in REM sleep.

 

Now came the hardest bit, waking him up.  The odds were that he would come away aggressively; it would all depend on the speed of his reflexes

 

“Gambit,” the moment he said the name the young man was a blur of movement, he powered off the chair, hit the carpet in a forward roll and a card was already flying towards him.

 

Paul threw his weight on the back of the sofa, upturned it and the card hit the underside. The explosion sent the sofa flying backwards, but absorbed the power.

 

“Gambit, easy boy, no one is going to hurt you.”  Paul slowly lifted his head over the top of the sofa, waving Ruth back as she rushed in, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene.  He had had to stop himself from reaching for his service weapon. That would only complicate matters.

 

The younger man was in a crouch, his stance shouted that this was a trained fighter, in his hand were three more cards, each of them charged and ready to fly. 

 

“Back away homme, Gambit don’t want t’ hurt y.”

 

“I know about the Thieves Guild, I spoke to Commander St. John of the NOPD.”

 

“Y’ a cop?”

 

“NLPD.  Easy kid, I am just getting my badge,” Paul pulled it from his pocket with his thumb and forefinger.  “No one is trying to arrest you, but I recognized your armor, and needed to know what a Master Thief is doing in my town.”

 

“How much y’ know, about the Guild?”

 

“Enough. St John...”

 

“St. John, fils d’une chienne.” Gambit spat the words out, the cards glowing brighter.

 

“Gambit, I sure hope you know what you’re doing, because I would sure hate for this house to blow up because you go supernova.”  Paul’s tone changed to the one he would have used to talk to some psycho gunman, trying to talk them down.  “So why don’t you put the cards away.”

 

He watched as the glowing charge began to seep back into Gambit’s hand and then vanished.

 

Only then did Paul get to his feet, keeping his hands clear. “Why don’t we have a chat,” he rolled the sofa back onto its castors, and coaxed the younger man into the kitchen.  As he walked past, Paul stopped to pick up Gambit’s sweat pants and top that had fallen to the floor.  He frowned; there was a bloody stain on the back of the shirt.  He folded it up on its self.  It confirmed what he had seen last night, Gambit had been hurt, but at the moment was too paranoid to admit to it.

 

The more he thought about it the more he knew that Gambit had to go to Xavier’s school.

 

0-0-0-0-00

 

Xavier’s Mansion.

 

The Professor took a sip of his tea, “I look forward to meeting Gambit, when can you get him to the school?”

 

“That might be a problem, he certainly doesn’t trust anyone, but we are getting there. If he stays with us a while we can start to get him to trust us, then he might accept the idea of coming to the school a little easier.”

 

“Try to find out as much as you can about him Paul, it all helps.”

 

Paul cut across the Professor, “I will let you know.  I think that if I can get the information from New Orleans that a big piece of the puzzle is going to fall into place