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"Hate Is an Understatement"

Hate Is an Understatement

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13

This story is in progress.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel, no money's bein' made outta this! Waaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!! *sniff sniff*
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Vicki: HOI!!! Don't look at me, I'm only the editor. DOH.

Hate Is An Understatement

Chapter 8

Mist hung amongst the streets like a cool, smoky blanket, twisting coyly into the damp, dark alleys as the pale moon hung restlessly in the starless night. Despite the modern lamp posts that shone brightly with harsh light, the streets of New Orleans still retained its French charm, like a scene from a romance novel set in the 1800s, the prime era of society.

The lanes were empty...Except for an adolescent boy who stalked the roads at this untimely hour of night. The busiest district, lined with night spots, left behind him, he ventured into the silence of the impending scarcely populated part of the town. He pulled the collar of his trenchcoat higher, almost masking his handsome face completely. His red on black eyes scanned the area around him, making doubly sure that he was not being followed. He pursed his lips and gave out a low whistle.

A light draft rustled through his hair as his fellow team mate glided from the roofs above and settled herself next to him.

"Y'sure this street's deserted?" Rogue whispered into his ear.

"Positive p'tite...anybody be trailin' us?"

"Not the last time Ah checked."

"Ok," Remy sighed. "So far so good."

Rogue cocked her head to one side, gazing inquiringly Remy who had been whistling through gritted teeth ever since the Blackbird took off for the mission.

"Sumthin's botherin' ya...and it ain't the mission ain't it?" Rogue went straight to the point. Remy did not reply, instead he stared far off into the distance, his face shrouded in a stony mask. It was not his usual poker face and the realization sent a chill creeping into Rogue's skin. They continued to walk, their footsteps lightly echoing across the pavements. "Ah know this is hard f'r ya,"

Gambit chuckled. "Sure is...probably everyone be wantin' my skin."

"Ya did what ya could y'know."

"Mebbe. Unfortunately, chere... ya be the only one who t'inks so."

Rogue looked down at her trudging booted feet, contemplating on what had just passed between them a few nights ago. Rogue knew Gambit's pivotal point in his life...Well, the surface of it, anyway, since it was only the information that he agreed to give away. Rogue's grip on her jacket tightened as a strong gust of wind pushed at her with full force, and she realized , for the first time, that it was a cold night. Gambit grunted.

"What's so funny?"

"Just de fact dat they guard de bayou wilderness wit' a fortess and done nuthin' wit' de streets."

Rogue looked around her, smiling slightly to herself. Remy was right. It was rather funny if one thought about it long enough. The military was so engrossed with surprise attacks from the swamps that they failed to establish even a tiny, bit of security by way of the streets. If Remy and Rogue had taken the muddy route, they had probably run into an ambush.

"Once we reach de end of de prepared for anyt'ing."


"Cuz dat's where de bayou starts."

"Where the heck are they?" Bobby tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of his seat within the metallic cocoon of The Blackbird.

"Relax Ice cube...I'm sure Rogue an' Gambit are doing fine," Warren sighed, a tad annoyed by Bobby's constant complaints. It was no secret that Robert disliked the Cajun. He was never at ease ever since Remy moved into the mansion and became part of the team. Though the others scoffed at his fanatical suspicions, they could not help but feel a little uncomfortable when they dismiss nagging thoughts of Bobby's words being true. Though he often jumped the gun, Robert was sometimes a good judge of character.

Wolverine growled. The familiar cynical rage rumbling in his chest. "Should've let me go with 'em, Slim!"

"They're no longer kids, Logan..they can carry this mission out as good as the rest of us," Cyclops turned his gaze to the short, rather compact man that stood a whole head lower than him.

Wolverine shook his head ruefully. "It's not 'bout them deliverin''s about havin' someone ta watch their backs when they couldn't do it f'r themselves."

The anger in his eyes was estinguished and in its place a fatherly concern etched itself into his grey orbs, making him look as old as the years he had endured in his difficult life.

"Shouldn't they be at the bayou by now?" Betsy asked tonelessly as she continued to polish her katana blade.

"Jean?" Cyclops glanced at his beautiful flame-haired wife who reluctantly placed her delicate fingers to her temple and concentrated.

The elegant pavements gradually merged into crumbling dirt paths. Remy and Rogue were passing by the garden district and slowly approaching the blinding darkness of the bayou. With every step, a feeling of dread tugged at Remy's heart and his legs felt as though they were slowly turning to lead. But he kept his cool and continued to brave against his fears that lurked behind the corners of every wall. Soon, they could hear the monotonous song of the crickets and feel the uneven footholds of the muddy earth as they faced the mass of insanely tangled vines that marked the thresh hold of the dense swamps. Rogue stared at the looming wilderness as if in awe, somehow the bayous appeared more impending at nights. She swallowed hard, trying to clear her parched throat. Remy grasped Rogue's hand and turned to look at her in the eye.

"Get ready turnin' back now."

*Rogue?* Rogue jumped slightly at her name being mentioned by the telepathic prowess of Jean's psychic mind.

"What is it chere?" Gambit asked worriedly when he felt Rogue tense suddenly. Rogue held her free palm up, silencing him.

"It's Jean."

*Where are you and Remy now?*

*We're just about ta get inta the swamps.*

*Excellent...we're on our know where to rendezvous.*

*We'll see ya later,*

And she was gone. Rogue took a deep breadth and looked at her Cajun partner, anxiety pulling at the edge of her eyes and yet a sort of perverse excitement illuminating them also. Gambit felt his own fears dissipate as he gazed into her warm emeralds and felt his own attraction to danger returning to his veins. His hand was still entwined with hers, and they both had no intention of pulling away. They smiled slyly at each other as Remy heard the words he had wanted to hear Rogue say ever since he laid eyes on her.

"Lead the way, sugar."

And he gladly obliged.


Continued in Chapter 9.


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