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Notes: This story arc is extremely AU and so far off the canon path you will
need a map to find your way back.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns
the characters I do not. I do not
follow continuity, neither does Marvel. Gambit is a great character; unfortunately, the
writers in the X books don’t understand this. Ok, end of mini rant.
Warning: This story will be a strong
PG 13, with a possibility R rating, mostly violence related.
Hey, what else did you expect? It’s me. I couldn’t write fluff even if my life depended on it.
Continuity: Takes place directly after
the events in The Cold Hearted Truth.
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A Family Divided
Kaleidopy
Chapter Three
Scalphunter’s unique senses alerted him to another presence several hundred
feet upwind. He crouched between two large trees, lowered the tinted glasses
he used as night vision goggles and raised his rifle ready to fire.
He
ignored the leftover raindrops trapped within the tree canopy that pelted him
from above while he waited for whatever came through the clearing.
Something moved through the brush, and Scalphunter whistled, mimicking a bird
and waited. A low whistle answered, signaling LeBeau’s arrival. A dark
silhouette emerged from the shrubbery, moving awkwardly that Scalphunter first
believed he had been tricked. It wasn’t until he saw the glowing red eyes did
he lower his weapon.
“You’ve got some nerve, Remy. After what you pulled, you dare ask me for a
favor.” Scalphunter reached into his ammo belt, pulled out a vial and taunted
LeBeau with it. “Give me one good reason why I should risk my neck giving you
these things?”
“You
want me on my knees, beggin’ you, Grey Crow? The last thing I want is
something of Sinister’s. If you…”
“Here,” the marauder snapped, slapping the vial into Gambit’s hand. The
instant Gambit’s fingers closed around the vial, Scalphunter grabbed the
younger man’s hand. He wanted retaliation for Remy’s betrayal but vengeance
took a backseat when the captured hand trembled and the reason wasn’t fear.
Scalphunter recognized the symptom. Withdrawal. During his long tenure with
Sinister, the marauder had witnessed hundreds of medical experiments on
unwilling participants, used to test the scientist’s latest concoctions.
Favorable results meant increased dosages until the participant’s body craved
the new drug. Once addicted, Sinister would cruelly deny the drug,
categorizing each symptom until he was satisfied with the results.
Gambit jerked his hand free, uncorked the vial and raised it to his mouth. He
closed his eyes, hating himself for what he was about to do. He was crawling
back to Sinister just as Sinister had arrogantly predicted.
Scalphunter watched him, grinning with assurance. “Drink it,” the marauder
urged, glancing in every direction for intruders.
Remy’s hand twitched slightly and a few drops of the elixir fell to the
ground. With the last of his reserve, he turned and threw the vial into the
woods.
“What
the hell do you think you’re doing?” Scalphunter hissed, shocked at what had
just happened. “I stole that blasted thing. Do you think I can walk into
Sinister’s lab, steal more of those vials without drawing his suspicions?”
Remy
leaned against a large tree, exhausted but relieved that he had the restraint
to refuse the elixir. A gust of cold air came out of nowhere, chilling him to
the bone. With the recent rainstorm and now the colder air, it was if the
elements themselves were punishing him for defying Sinister. He mentally
kicked himself for contacting Scalphunter in the first place. The marauder no
doubt had a tracking device on him, alerting Sinister to his presence. “Dis a
mistake, leave before you are discovered, Grey Crow.”
“Who
the X-Men? Bring ‘em on. I could use the target practice.” Scalphunter
pulled out another vial and approached the shivering mutant. When Gambit
shook his head refusing the offer, the marauder sighed in frustration. “Don’t
be stupid, Remy. Take the elixir. If you don’t, it’s only going to get
worse.”
“I’ll
take dat chance.” Gambit rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to
generate body heat. How could it have turned so cold so quickly? Was Storm
testing her powers again? He slowly got back on his feet, using the tree for
support. “I’ve made mistakes I regretted. I won’t make another by accepting
Sinister’s help.”
“You
don’t have that choice, boy. You belong to Sinister. He created the elixir
to keep you tied to him. It’s only a matter of time before you come crawling
back to him.”
“Non!” Remy’s eyes narrowed, glaring with such intensity that Scalphunter
defensively reached for a weapon. “You tell Sinister to go to hell.”
“You
can’t win, Remy.” Scalphunter shoved the remaining vial into Gambit’s pocket.
When Remy reached to retrieve the vial, Scalphunter stayed his hand. “Keep
it. If only to defy Sinister.” He pressed a button on his wrist
communicator. A glowing tesseract appeared. “Defy Sinister for as long as
you can but take heed. It is only delaying the inevitable.” With those
words, Scalphunter pressed a button on his wrist communicator, turned and
stepped into the glowing tesseract and disappeared.
----------------------------------------
Scalphunter emerged from the tesseract seconds later.
“Well?” A sinister voice welcomed him.
“He’s
in the early stages of withdrawal,” Scalphunter answered. “I’ve never seen
Remy act that way before. It was almost like the boy was…”
“Addicted?” Sinister laughed, delighted with Scalphunter’s news. He leaned
back in his chair. “The cylinders he stole were altered, abetted with a more
powerful strength of the potion. Remington’s tendency for larceny has created
his downfall.”
“You
predicted he would take the elixir the second he had it in his hand,” the
marauder leader replied with unusual sarcasm. “It didn’t happen.”
“A
small hindrance, nothing more. Explain the symptoms.” While Scalphunter
revealed the information Sinister demanded, the scientist gloated.
“Consequently, he did not refuse the second vial. Attestation that his
resolve is deteriorating. Thus, it is only a matter of time before he
falters.”
“Remy’s stubborn. He would not have taken the second vial if I had not forced
it on him.”
“With
very little persuasion.” Sinister considered the information Scalphunter had
provided, drawing his own conclusion. “Whilst LeBeau did not take the elixir
upon receipt, he did not throw it away. Within a few hours, he will no longer
be able to distinguish reality from fiction.”
“He
still has the mentality to tell you to go to hell.”
“Amusing. It appears he has abused my leniency.” Sinister tapped the
armrest, pondering his next move. “It is time to play my hand.” The
scientist addressed Arclight, summoning the female marauder forward.
“Philippa, you demanded revenge against my son for his betrayal.” Sinister
ignored the maniacal grin that appeared on her face. “You now have that
opportunity. “
Arclight folded her arms behind her back, glared arrogantly at Scalphunter
before she waited for further instructions.
“Place an anonymous phone call to Xavier’s school. Claim you are a concern
parent. Demand to speak only with Scott Summers. Alert the leader of the
X-Men that you have proof that one of their own is in possession of a
mysterious drug. You have seen the effects it had on the user and unless
action is taken immediately, you will alert the authorities.”
Arclight frowned her disappointment. “I had wished for a more painful
penalty.”
“You
will have your chance. Now do as you are told,” Sinister said, dismissing the
woman with a wave of his hand. He once again addressed the marauder leader.
“Summers’ obsession for honesty will fracture the fragile relationship with
his half-brother once he discovers another atrocious secret that LeBeau kept
hidden from him.”
“Summers’ hell! Remy’s going to resent Summers’ sticking his nose into his…”
Scalphunter paused, understanding what the scientist had planned. “You know
exactly how LeBeau is going to react.”
“Indeed. As per his habit, he will find some public place to vent his
frustrations. Upon his location, make your presence known. Without the
elixir, his brainwave patterns are no longer sharp, therefore making him more
acceptable to my demands.”
“And
if he refuses?”
“I’m
sure you can use your imagination.”
Scalphunter bowed his head, acknowledging his instructions.
------------------------
In
the second sub-level basement, the bio/chemical laboratory bustled with
activity. Dr. Henry McCoy continued to type commands into the computer,
waiting for the results of another test he had ran on the cylinder that
Wolverine had discovered on the mansion grounds.
Behind him, the constant tapping of fingers and hard booted heels reverberated
the marble floors distracted him. He glanced over his shoulder, cleared his
throat and Storm stopped her pacing. Wolverine as usual ignored the reserved
hint.
“Anything?” Storm asked, folding her arms against her chest in anticipation.
“The
tests are not complete,” McCoy answered, sighing with frustration. He pointed
to the computer screen. “The computer is running the final analysis.”
“You
sound worried, Henry,” Storm said, crossing the room to stand behind McCoy’s
chair. Her agitation intensified, unsure if it was directed at Wolverine’s
annoying tapping or the fact that something possibly dangerous had been
smuggled onto the campus right under everyone’s noses.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
She
glared at the Canadian, attempting to silence Wolverine for the annoying
tapping. Did he not realize how loud and irritating it had become?
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
She
mentally started counting to ten.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
‘Five, six, seven.’
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
‘Eight. Nine…’
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
“Will
you stop that inferno tapping?” She snapped, startling McCoy to the point he
almost fell out of his chair. Had she not been so stressed, Ororo would have
laughed at McCoy’s stunned expression and his balancing ability to remain
seated. “Forgive me, my friends,” she said, covering her mouth with her
hand. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“You
didn’t!” Wolverine growled, his anger turning on the doctor. “Beast what’s
taking you so long?”
“I
believe I have responded to that particular inquiry four times previously,
Logan,” McCoy answered, keeping his attention on the computer screen. The
analysis finished, McCoy walked to the printer station, picked up a piece of
paper and started reading.
“Well?” Wolverine inquired, waiting until the doctor had finished reading.
“I
have not seen this substance before,” McCoy commented, scratching his head in
bewilderment. What he was reading made no sense. “The chemical structure
resembles the characteristics of a strong synthetic psychoactive drug.
However because many of the genetic compounds could not be deciphered, its
stimulant potential is almost impossible to detect.”
“Have
you any idea behind the drug’s purpose?” Storm asked.
“If
what I suspect is true then I am deeply concerned,” McCoy said, returning to
the computer. He typed a command and waited until a side door opened to
reveal a smaller laboratory. “Follow me,” he said, walking towards the
smaller room.
As
the three entered the small white room, McCoy led them to where the cylinder
hung suspended above a flashing screen. He flipped a button, shutting down
the machine. “What we have here my curious friends, is an addictive elixir
that cannot be deciphered. It was obliviously the inventor’s intent,” he
said, clasping the cylinder. “However, simple DNA technology has identified
the user by the saliva collected on the aperture.”
“Henry, tell me. Is it one of our students?” Catching the shrewd exchange
between the two men, Storm realized her question had been answered by their
silent gesture. “I demand an answer.”
“The
cylinder belongs to Gambit,” McCoy answered with reluctance. Anticipating
Storm’s objection, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Ororo, my
accusations are never made without proof. I regret the unethical matter in
which I have collected the evidence to confirm my allegation, but evidence it
is nevertheless.”
McCoy
walked to the large desk, pressed several buttons on the numeric keypad
opening a side drawer. He reached inside to retrieve a c.d. “When the DNA
test was conducted to determine Gambit’s paternity, the opportunity to learn
more about our enigmatic Cajun proved too much of a temptation.” He inserted
the c.d. into the computer and accessed it.
Wolverine and Storm crossed the room to stand behind McCoy watching a
multi-colored whirlwind swirl rapidly on the computer screen. McCoy typed in
a command and a smaller whirlwind appeared next to the first.
“Wanna tell us what we’re looking at, Blue?” Wolverine huffed. “I’ve got
better things to do than stare at two dancing whirlwinds going nowhere.”
“If I
understand genetic matrix, the spirals represent a genetic compound. Does
this have something to do with the cylinder’s contents?” When McCoy nodded,
Storm pointed to the second spiral, the weaker of the two. “Both have the
same characteristics, but I fail to understand the difference in strength.
Unless.” she glanced at McCoy, who suddenly found the desktop interesting.
“This has something to do with that DNA test, does it not.”
“Yes,
whatever resided in the cylinder, Remy has the same genetic compound in his
bloodstream.” McCoy tapped the screen, emphasizing the stronger spiral. “This
concerns me. The strength in the cylinder is nearly quadruple to what was
detected in his bloodstream. If what I suspect has happened, Remy has become
addicted.”
“It
would explain his mood swings,” Storm said somberly. Something moved behind
them. She turned, hearing movement behind her. Her voice caught in her
throat, shocked to find Cyclops standing in the doorway. “Scott,” she gasped,
“how long have you been listening?”
Cyclops turned, leaving the three staring at his back.
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Chapter Four
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