CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days later
"I'm getting tired of this routine," a man dressed in white declared as
he wheeled a cart inside the large well-decorated room. He picked up a
silver covered tray and carried it across the carpeted floor to the young
man sitting up on the king-sized bed.
He placed the tray on top of the nightstand and lifted the dome lid,
allowing the steam coming off the dinner to escape and evaporate into the
air. "You're going to eat and this time, I'm going to stay to make sure you
do."
"Non!" Remy snapped, refusing to look at the meal. He had already told
the man three times he wasn't hungry and still the man refused to leave him
alone. He looked up at the man and glared. "Get out!"
The man remained steadfast. "I have my orders."
"You know what you can do wit' your orders." Remy picked up the remote
control he had tossed earlier on the bed and turned on the wide screen
television set that took up half the wall space. He sighed deeply, bored
beyond words as he flipped through hundreds of channels. The remote almost
dropped out of his hand when he saw Charles Xavier on the screen. A
well-known news anchor was interviewing the X-Man founder.
Xavier's face filled the television screen as the camera zoomed in for a
close up. "As I have stated repeatedly, the X-Men do not support Magneto or
his agenda, nor do we condone violence. We practice tolerance of our peers
and others as fellow citizens of Earth, not a separate factions."
Remy tightened his grip on the remote control, fighting the urge to throw
the device at the television as Xavier continued with the interview, "The
X-Men seek other methods to ensure that not all mutants are as judgmental."
Remy exploded in a fit of rage. He threw the small remote control as hard
as he could across the expansive room, watching as it fell harmlessly to the
floor. He screamed in frustration, and then grabbed the first thing within
his reach, a glass bottle, and threw it at the television set.
His aim was perfect, but victory was bittersweet. A crack fractured the
screen but did not destroy it. Xavier's face still adorned the television,
speaking as if he were the official Mutant Ambassador to the world.
Remy rolled off the bed, determined to destroy the set with his bare
hands. In his anger, he had forgotten the ordeal in Antarctica had left him
too week to stand. He crumbled to the floor before he had time to rectify
his mistake.
The man in white rushed to his side.
"Don' touch me," Remy hissed, slapping the man's hand away. He would
rather die than accept help from another again. He tried to pull himself up
by using the nightstand, but his strength gave way, sending him plunging
back to the floor. Tired, angry and defeated, Remy could only lay on his
back and stare up at the ceiling as he tried to get his breathing back to
normal.
The man muttered something under his breath, lifted the young man off the
floor, and placed him back on the bed. "You haven't eaten in days," the man
stated, returning to the dinner tray. "How do you expect to regain your
strength if you don't eat?"
"I ain' hungry," Remy said, hoping the man would just leave him alone. He
was sick of arguing and tired of forced confinement. The room was luxurious
beyond imagination, but that didn't matter to him. All he wanted was his
freedom and if he had to crawl on his hands and knees to gain it, he would.
He glanced at the man, who was holding the tray. "Jus' take de damn tray an'
leave."
"And what am I supposed to tell him'?" the man asked, nervously.
The tray in his hand shook slightly and Remy guessed he was either afraid or
didn't know Sinister's name but the fear factor was apparent never the less.
"He doesn't like the idea of you not eating."
If Remy had any enjoyment the last few weeks, it was pushing the buttons
of Sinister's medical associates. Remy knew he couldn't intimidate Sinister,
but intimidating his hired lackeys was another thing entirely. "Tell your
boss dat I ain' eatin' an' dere's nothin' you can do 'bout it, either."
"No, but I can!" Creed declared, walking into the room. Victor took his
time studying the furnishings inside the large room. He turned to the man
standing nearby and growled, "GET OUT!"
The man quickly dropped the tray back down on the table and ran for his
life. Sabretooth snarled after him, laughing as the man nearly tripped twice
over his own feet before he left the room. Creed glanced at the television
screen, and touched the fractured glass. He turned, shaking a long hairy
finger in Remy's direction and snorted, "Temper, temper, temper."
Remy felt his heart beating in his ears. He knew he didn't have the
strength to defend himself against this killer. He had tangled with
Sabretooth before and once it had nearly cost him his life. He glanced
around, frantically trying to find something to use for a weapon.
"I see Essex's lil pet still has all th' perks. Then again, ya always
were his favorite." Victor circled the room, shaking his head as he moved
from wall to wall. He picked up a silver mug, tilted his head, and eyed the
young man. "One day, I'm gonna find out th' reason."
"What do you want, Creed?"
"I'm insulted, LeBeau." Victor's eyes narrowed, and the deranged gaze
Remy remembered all too well from the Morlock tunnels returned. He tensed,
expecting the worse when Creed walked over to the bed and tossed the mug to
him.
"You're scared of me, aren't ya, punk? Don' lie, 'cause I can smell it on
ya." He dropped down on the bed beside LeBeau. Remy tried to move, but Creed
pressed his face into his. He could feel Sabretooth's hot breath against his
neck as the killer spoke and he struggled not to flinch in response.
"Betcha I could do some major damage to that pretty face of yours, an' I
could do it before ya had a chance ta even scream."
"You don' scare me, Creed." Remy glared, determined he was not going to
be intimidated by Sabretooth. If he did, Creed would probably make good on
his threat but Remy was not going down without a fight. "You try to touch me
an' I'll put a charge into you so fast you'll think you were launched into
space on de space shuttle."
"In th' condition yer in, kid, I'd doubt ya could charge a cigarette,"
Creed taunted with mocking laughter. "Go ahead an' try. I dare ya."
Sorely tempted, Remy almost touched Creed's clothing but decided stalling
for time was the better option. "I asked you b'fore Creed, whatda want?
Speak your mind an' get out."
"Hold yer sippy cup, LeBeau. Ya wouldn't be breathing right now if I
wanted ta kill you. I only wanna talk fer now."
Remy snorted, laughing out loud, "Since when?"
Sabretooth admitted with a half shrug, "Got nothin' better to do." And
with a sudden diabolical grin, he added, "Bein' on th' side of th' angels
ain't exactly what it's cracked up ta be, is it, LeBeau?"
Remy glared, but remained silent. He wasn't about to satisfy Creed with a
reaction.
"Summers an' his buddies must be havin' a good laugh at yer expense right
now. Wonder if they took bets on what time they thought you would die on
that ice?" Creed crept closer, baiting him into a confrontation. "Rogue
probably already got herself another punk ta string along by now."
Remy gripped the mug tightly and tried to charge it, only to discover he
didn't have enough strength to use his powers. Sighing, he dropped the mug.
"Leave me be, Creed."
"Face th' facts, boy, th' X-Men dida number on ya." Creed stood up, never
taking his eyes off the younger mutant as he made his way across the room to
the velvet couch. He touched the material before sitting on the furniture.
Placing his arm across the top of the couch, he grinned. "Th' only
difference between them an' me is I never pretended ta be a saint when I
tried ta kill ya."
Remy closed his eyes. He replayed the events leading up to the mock trial
and the aftermath before the demise of the cathedral. He held his breath as
he remembered the actions of all the X-Men who were there. Most had
condemned him and not one had taken his side, offering him their support
when he needed it the most. He had trusted them, called them friends and now
all he could do was loathe them.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it, LeBeau?" Sabretooth's voice brought his
thoughts back to the present.
"Why you tellin' me dis, Creed?" Remy eyed him suspiciously. "Whatcha
stake in dis?"
"Doncha just love it!" Sabretooth laughed again. "Ol' Bowling Ball tried
ta make an X-Man outta a rejected Marauder."
"I was never a damn Marauder."
"Naw, you couldn't make th' cut, kid. Ran like a baby when th' fun
started."
"You slaughtered dose Morlocks!" Remy shouted as his hands balled into
fists. "Women an' children. Dey never had a chance."
"You were th' one who looked me up fer that mission, LeBeau. I didn't
volunteer fer it. You knew my reputation before ya hired me." Victor
snorted. "Ya only kept yer eyes closed 'cause ya got something outta
Sinister. So, don't up yer nose at me, punk. Yer hands are just as bloody as
mine."
"CREED!!!"
Remy jumped, shocked to hear Sinister's angry voice. He never heard the
door open, but nonetheless, the scientist stood in the room, glaring at
Victor.
Sabretooth nonchalantly got to his feet and made his way slowly to the
door. "Guess I should leave you two love birds alone." He glanced at Remy,
snickered, and then turned back to Sinister. "Xavier must have gotten tired
of th' punk an' ordered th' X-Men ta ditch him. I guess ya have ta settle
fer leftovers."
The door opened but Creed never made it outside. An unseen source pulled
him back into the room and threw him against the wall. "I find your sense of
humor lacking and insulting."
"Man, I musta touched a nerve." Creed laughed. His laughter ended
abruptly as Essex' hand wrapped around his throat. Sabretooth's eyes widened
in rage, but he refused to cry out. "Release me before ya really make me
mad, Essex."
"Well," Essex's evil chuckle echoed in the room. "Get mad."
Remy anxiously watched the two engage in battle, wishing for a box of
popcorn and a scorecard. He might be enjoying the battle, but he knew it
would be short-lived, because defying Sinister meant paying a high price for
the effort.
Sabretooth's rage was his own undoing. Creed charged Sinister, who simply
raised a hand and shot a force bolt at Victor. Creed fell to the floor and
didn't move.
"Next time, Victor, my friend," Sinister stated as he nonchalantly
stepped over Creed's unconscious body. "I hope you have better sense than to
make the same mistake twice."
Essex turned his attention to the silver tray on the nightstand. Walking
over, he lifted the dome cover and glanced at the untouched meal. "My
associates are not here to amuse you Remington. Either your appetite will
return immediately or I will force feed you myself."
"Stop callin' me, Remington," Remy demanded, refusing to relinquish the
anger he commanded. It was the only thing he controlled and he wasn't about
to release it. Confinement had darkened his demeanor but constantly being
called that ridiculous name had only increased his frustration. Remington.
Why Sinister recently started calling him that name was a mystery, but he
was just as determined not to answer to it.
Sinister pulled out another small cylinder containing the same green
elixir and gave it to Remy.
Gambit took the elixir, swallowed it without haste, and returned the
cylinder to Sinister. The scientist always inspected the tube to confirm the
elixir had been taken. Just why, Remy didn't know, nor did he understand
Sinister's almost obsessive behavior concerning this ritual.
He wondered why Sinister even bothered. Everyone else had abandoned him,
either by choice or by duty. He bit his lower lip, looked up, and decided to
place all the cards on the table. "Why you care, Essex? I mean nothin' to
you."
"Nothing can be further from the truth, my child. You need not know the
reason behind my motives but know this, your life has been mapped out by my
hands for a purpose." Sinister reached down and gently lifted Remy's chin.
"In three days, you will be well enough to travel. The decision to leave or
stay will be yours." He released his hold, walked across the room, and stood
in front of the door. Waving his hand over its width, the door slid open. He
turned, and said, "Nothing would please me more than to have you by my
side."
"Doesn't Gray Crow have that honor?"
"Scalphunter is a Marauder, nothing more. His life can be taken and
regenerated at my whim," Sinister stated. "You, however, are a different
matter."
Sinister was a renowned cold-hearted, malice-driven individual who never
displayed any emotional attachments. Now, contrary to popular opinion, Remy
had the privilege of witnessing the occasion when Essex publicly displayed
one. Sinister left the room as two associates entered and carried Creed's
unconscious body out of the room.
Alone again, Remy stared at the closed door and pondered his choices. For
too long, he had tried to please others just to feel loved and appreciated.
He knew Jeanr09;Luc loved him, but his adopted father had always put him
second to the Guild.
His mind switched to the X-Men. Having lived and fought by their side on
an almost daily basis, he realized he didn't once feel completely accepted
as a member of the team. The only reason he had stayed with the X-Men was,
Xavier. The professor was the only member of the team, other than Rogue and
Storm, who had made him feel like he had a home with the X-Men.
The more Remy thought about it, the more Sinister's offer started to
sound inviting. The only thing holding him back was the scientist's price.
Acknowledging Sinister as his father would forever change his life. His days
as an X-Man would be over, but then again, he no longer wished to be one.
What did they ever do for him? He stared at the wall, his decision finally
made. Perhaps, being considered the son of Essex would not be so bad after
all.