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
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.
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