DISCLAIMER: The characters (most
of them anyway) used in the following story are the property
of Marvel Comics and are used without permission. No one is
making any money off of this so please don't sue. Besides,
neither one of us have much money anyway.:)
AUTHOURS' NOTES: For continuity's sake, this story
doesn't really take place at any given time. Suffice to say
it is relatively recent in Marvel's time and none of the Trial
garbage has taken place. This is also my (J's) first attempt
at fan fiction and as Shera Crawler once said: "Feedback
to writers is like water to flowers, so water a writer today!"
No Rave, I'm not taking this from you. I just love this waaaay
too much not to use it.:) Both of us love feedback, so please,
PLEASE, respond! Contact Revel at DONNA_JANTAK@bc.sympatico.ca.
Secrets Better Left Unknown
He walked his bike into the mansions garage not as much because
he didn't want to wake anybody, but more as to the fact that
he didn't want anyone still awake to know that he was back.
Or that he had left in the first place.
Bishop would know, paranoid moron that he was, patrolling
the grounds at all hours of the day and night. He didn't care
about Bishop though. Ever since Onslaught happened, Gambit
had been absolved from the title 'x-traitor' in the time traveler's
eyes. Ever since Onslaught, Gambit doubted himself more and
more. If the Professor could do something like that, what
did that mean for himself?
Remy LeBeau pushed those unwelcome thoughts out of his mind.
W'at wrong wit' you, boy? Y' spen' a night wit a gorgeous
femme, eatin' good food an' drinkin good wine, but still you
come 'ome feelin' like shit. He'd had a good time tonight.
He started at The Limelight, goal to forget his worries with
drink and dance, mixed in with some pleasant female company.
She had blonde hair and blue eyes that shone like diamonds.
Fairly intelligent at first glance, even better company when
they sat down at a table and talked. He had offered her a
ride home, with full intentions to stay there for a nightcap,
but decided against it at the last minute. She had been disappointed.
He felt relieved.
Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the garage door.
Dis is startin' to become a habit. Third night in the
past two months with the same result. The first time it was
a bimbo airhead. And he had thought Jubilee said, 'like' too
many times. Last time it was a danger-loving brunette that
had seemed to be a bit too much like Genevieve. This time
he couldn't shake the feeling that he was dancing with Candra
or Belle. " Might as well give up, d'rate dis is goin'.
"Don't seem like the quittin' type, Cajun. "
Remy jumped, cigarette falling out his mouth. This shouldn't
have happened. Logan was good, but in the open like this he
should've heard him. He should have sensed him.
"Whatcha doin' sneakin' up on a body like dat, eh? "
"Wasn't sneaking. I've been here the whole time. Can't
say the same for you, though. " Wolverine purposely needled
Gambit, to see if he had lost his cool as a result of the
surprise. He needn't have bothered.
"Jus' t'ought I'd enjoy de warm weat'er. Dis Cajun misses
de Big Easy, is all. See you 'round Logan. " And with
that final word and his customary nonchalant smile, the mutant
known to most of the world as Gambit flicked his finished
cigarette away and disappeared into the shadows.
The control booth of the Danger Room the following morning:
Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men,
sat at the console of the alien technology. He was waiting
for all the members of his team to come into the room below
and start the training session. The clock above his head read
10:47 am. Thirteen more minutes until everybody showed up
... Twelve more minutes until everybody showed up. Scott Summers
was bored. His fingers drummed absently on the metal while
his visored gaze flitted across the tech.
Yes, Scott Summers was very bored. Suddenly his attention
was caught by the opening of the Danger Room door as Bishop
walked in, trusty plasma rifle in hand. All the time the big
man had spent in this house and he still thought it was important
to impress the old-timers.
After Bishop, came Cannonball. Then the female populace of
the mansion, Storm, Rogue, Psylocke and Phoenix, chatting
amiably. Jean looked up at the control booth and smiled as
Cyclops gave her a mental kiss. They were followed by Iceman
and Archangel, still yawning. Wolverine sauntered in and leaned
against a corner wall expectantly. As Cyclops looked at him
he thought, He knows something, but what?
~Oh, stop it, Scott,~ replied Jean Grey. ~You're
getting as paranoid as Bishop.~ Again Scott thanked the
powers that be, for his wonderful wife. Without her, he could
never hope to have the strength to lead. Sending a rueful
smile along their psychic rapport, he continued to wait for
the last X-Man.
Gambit. The digital clock above his head already read ten
minutes after eleven, and still no sign of the man. I don't
need this from you right now, Remy. Show up. This is a good
day. thought Summers.
"Yo, fearless leader, what're we waiting for? "
That was Bobby.
"We are waiting for Gambit, " Answered Storm, as
perceptive as ever.
"You mean I got up this early for nothing? Oh man! Not
again." Scott put his head in his hands. Come on.
It's only eleven in the morning.
3:23 PM, Gambit's room:
A groan sounded from the tumble of sheets and comforter that
lay in a heap on the four poster bed. Sunlight streamed in
through the uncovered window, waking the room's sole occupant.
The man in the bed rolled over again and found himself face
first on the wooden floor. Remy sprang up from his sprawl
to a fighting stance, eyes painfully trying to blink away
His reflexes were sharp, but his brain hadn't yet caught
up to his body. When it did, doing so much slower than it
should, and his eyes regained their function, one of the worlds
best thieves and escape artists woke up to his own reflection.
It stared back at him groggy, truculent
Gambit quickly ran over to his window and shut the blinds.
He then stuck his head through and checked in all directions,
retracting it back only when he made sure no one was there.
T'ank God no one saw me. When the moment of panic subsided,
Remy started to berate himself on his own sloppiness. If
dere had been someone dere, you'd be dead by now, boy.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced, completely
disgusted with himself. Is dis what you've come to, eh?
Losin' your edge in alla dis rel'tive safety?
His eyes then rested on his clock, and he remembered the
Danger Room exercise. Merde! (1) Cyclops's gonna kill me!
Musta turned off the alarm in my sleep (2). With lightning
speed Remy threw on his uniform and armor, tucking cards and
Bo staff as he sprinted down the corridor to the lifts.
When the Danger Room's metal doors parted for him, he found
the room deserted. Confused, he checked the War Room and found
all the X-Men inside, listening to what appeared to be a briefing
on a mission. All eyes turned to him as he desperately tried
to even out his breath. Cyclops wore Gambit's customary poker
face, but Jean could barely keep a straight face as she picked
up on his thoughts.
Inside he was whooping and hollering that he'd managed to
break past Remy's facade and take him unawares. On the opposite
side of the table Storm wore an appreciative smile in regards
to Scott's strategy in dealing with the wayward thief. Remy
wanted to die. For the life of him he couldn't think of anything
to say, and hated Scott for it.
Recovering his composure, he asked, "What's dat? "
as he pointed to the holographic display in the middle of
"It's a schematic of the FOH headquarters in Adirondack
Park, Hamilton Country. Cerebro picked up some suspicious
activity there. I want to check it out. " Scott's tone
was flat as his mind went back to leader mode. Gambit took
a seat in the only vacant chair at the table, sneering at
the snickering Drake as he passed him by.
"I've already selected a team to infiltrate. Because
this should be done quietly and with maximum stealth, Wolverine,
Psylocke, and Gambit will go."
"W'at sort of secur'ty do dey have?" Remy's mind
filled with images of various locks and defense systems and
the tools he would need to bypass them.
"If you had gotten here on time you would have heard
that already." There was absolutely no way that Scott
would let this just slide. He continued to re-explain.
"This is one of the more heavily guarded branches. Punch
code locks, heavy laser grids, state of the art surveillance.
It's possible that they have hired specialized help. You will
come in from opposite ends and meet up at the west entrance.
After you get in you will break up again and find as much
info as you can. Leave as quietly as you came in. Communicate
telepathically, via Psylocke between each other and radio
with me and the other X-Men. Any questions?" Cyclops
looked at three mutants expectantly.
"All right then. Blackbird takes off in fifteen minutes.
We've got a long flight ahead of us."
long flight ahead of us. " < Click >
The screen goes black.
The man sits alone surrounded by darkness, black gloved fingers
rubbing his jaw. Delightful. And it couldn't have happened
at a better time.
His gaze settles on another display screen, showing a man
in a fighting stance, barely controlled rage burning in his
eyes. It is time to return to me... your creator.
He then reaches over and picks up a normal looking telephone
which seems out of place surrounded by all the advanced technology
and dials a number. The phone rings on the other end of the
connection. A pleasant female's voice says, "Hello, this
is the Friends of Humanity. How may I help you?"
Continued in Chapter
1) The French don't actually use this to swear, but I don't
know any phrases that they do.
2)This has happened to me soooo many times. Probably'd explain
why I didn't have my homework done that day.J
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