Futures Remembered - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Leigh
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 3

The ground was dank. Shadows crept across the alleyway as day grudgingly surrendered to night. Huddled in one of those shadows was the barely discernable form of a boy. Invisible to all but those he allowed to see him. He had perfected that skill early on in his tortured existence.

A shiver ran through his body. He’d have to move soon. Even in the humid air of a New Orleans’ night, the rags that covered his frail body were too thin to keep out the chill. Slowly he rose to his feet, his eyes flitting around furiously and his body held tense, anticipating the slightest sight of danger. His skin crawled a rat skittered between two dumpsters through the remains of spoiled takeaway.

He hunched over and took a furtive step forward. In his hand he clutched a small but precious package. He took a few more steps and then darted for the alley entrance. A few more explorative glances and he slowly melted into the bustle of the early evening crowd.

His passage through the streets was swift. He did not go far, just a few blocks, but his body remained rigid, wary of the dangers unperceivable to those who didn't live his kind of life. To him, everyone posed a threat, and alternately, a salvation. To an observer, no sign of the trepidation he felt was visible. This was his mask – another talent he had developed young. To show what he was thinking or feeling was a weakness; one that could be exploited by those who would prey on him and those he protected.

He slipped from the early evening hum of the streets. The alleyway was almost identical to the one he had departed from just minutes before. Mildew grew on the grimy brick walls like a cancer. The dim light bleached everything to ailing shades of grey. His feet trudged through a copious layer of sludge that accumulated on the outskirts of the alley. Navigating his way past dumpsters and broken crates, he made his way to the back of the alley. His body had lost some of the tension in its stance. He was comfortable in the derelict back-alleys of this city. They were the only home he had ever known.

He pressed his way through a narrow gap between the buildings at the rear of the lane and came to a small quad, no more than 5 metres squared. An unplanned design flaw when the surrounding buildings were erected, the small court had become a haven to the small group of children Remy considered his family.

His arrival was greeted with shrieks of glee. A band of four children spilled from the wooden shelter that had been constructed in the slightly hidden corner to the left of the quad's entrance way. It wasn’t much, but it kept out the worst of the weather. They relied on each other for warmth. Nadia was the first to reach him. Also aged eight, she was the second-in-command of the group and Remy’s best friend. She cast Remy a worried glance. She could tell that the day hadn’t gone well. Nadia knew that if more of them ventured out that they might have more luck, but Remy insisted that the he be the only one to take the risks - the others were too young to go alone and she needed to watch out for them while he was away. She knew that he didn’t want them exposed to the hardships awaiting them on the street anymore than they already were. He didn’t want his ‘family’ to know the sinister future that awaited them when he could no longer shield them, and it worried her. She knew that their artificial safety cost him any hope of a chance to hold on to that fantasy for himself.

Remy flashed her an irrepressible grin, his eyes glinting behind oversized sunglasses. One lens was cracked and they constantly slipped down his nose, but they protected his eyes, both from the harsh glare of the sun and the hostile stares of others. With a flourish, he produced the treasured package from behind his back and pressed it into Nadia’s hands.

“It isn’ much, I’ll get more tomorrow.”

Nadia returned his smile. “It’ll do fine. T’ank you. Come on, let's eat.”

“Non,” Remy replied in a sharp whisper. “Remy don’ need to eat. Remy’s fine.”

Nadia let out an exasperated sigh. He always did this when the food was short – put the others' needs ahead of his own, even when his were greater. The third-person act was a bad sign too. He resorted to third-person when he was being stubborn, or distant. She knew she wasn’t going to change his mind, but tried anyway.

“Remy, if you –”

“Chere, Remy glad you – ” At that particular moment Remy’s waist was enfolded by pair of grubby arms. He looked down to see an angelic face peering up at him through a wild mop of strawberry-blonde hair. Francine let go of his waist only to latch on to his hand and begin tugging him towards the wooden structure.

“Wemy, come look. ‘gene and Mawtin and me made this picture for you. Nadia got mad and said we were messing, but I said you wouldn’t mind ‘cause we were making it for you and she said it don’t matter, we were still messing and you don’t like messes, but I think she’s wrong. You don’t mind do you? I know you don’t mind. Come seeeeee.”

Remy let the young girl pull him over to a puddle of chalk on the cement floor. He threw a stare over his shoulder at Nadia. The matter was closed.

Nadia let out another sigh and beckoned to the two young boys who had hung back. Martin was seven and stocky for his age. Dark eyes were hidden behind a wealth of equally dark hair. He was getting antsy of late because he felt that he too should be allowed to go looking for supplies with Remy. Remy wasn’t that much older. Nadia disagreed. Remy was the oldest person Nadia had ever known. Martin didn’t have the quickness that Remy did, neither in body nor in mind. He wouldn’t fare well, and Remy would jeopardise himself even more trying to guard him. Eugene was two years younger at five and caught between Remy, who he worshipped, and Martin who was his playmate. He was too young to take any form of choice. He was just happy to play in the small court with Franky. The two boys came forward and set about helping Nadia prepare what little food Remy had been able to gather for them.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here boys? Looks like we caught a few rats in a hole,” a menacing voice said, cutting through the night air. A large boy shoved his way through the tiny entrance followed shortly by a taller skinny kid. Behind them another kid squeezed into the small enclosure and effectively cut off the only exit.

Remy stood up from were he was playing with Franky. He moved to stand facing the first boy and obvious leader. The trio looked to be in their early teens, and dressed in a haphazard way that indicated that they too, were street kids.

“I t’ink you should leave, homme. You’re not welcome,” Remy stated in a quiet but threatening tone. Although he was a least a foot shorter than the thug, the pimple-faced teen took an unconscious step back, deterred by the cold underlying threat in the calm tone of Remy’s voice. A flurry of chinks could be heard as a chain unfurled from around the leader’s left fist.

“No, I don’t think so. I think that I just found a group of fucking kids, trespassing in my fucking territory and I’m going to teach you ass-wipes what happens to people who mess with me.Right boys?” The cronies sniggered and sidled up to back their leader.

Remy didn’t back down. “I t’ink dat you are mistaken, homme. We been living ‘ere all year and I no’ see you before.”

With a few words to Martin, Nadia got up from were she had been sitting doling out the night’s rations, and came to stand beside Remy. She wanted to move back instantly as the stale stench of sweat and grime hit her, but she couldn’t leave Remy to face them alone; even if that was the way he preferred it.

“Well, what do we have here? It looks like we may be able to come to some form of agreement.” The boy extended his right hand to glance his fingers across Nadia’s jawline. Nadia snapped her head back and away from his hand. The thug’s eyes flared. That little bitch had rejected him! He grabbed her chin, the force causing a series of bruises along the bone. Nadia gave a small yelp of pain. “What do you think boys, do you think we can reach a… agreement?” He let out a chuckle, which was answered by similar sniggers from his lackeys.

“Yeah, Brock. I think that can be arranged,” the skinny kid behind him sneered.

Remy grabbed the thug’s arm and with surprising strength and yanked it away from Nadia’s face.“Non! No arrangement. Any arrangement be made with me, and I t’ink dat you should leave!” He shoved Nadia behind him and took a step forward so that he crowded the older boy. “Get out!”

Without warning, the leader lashed out to backhand Remy across the face. He missed. Remy’s uncanny agility made him a hard target to hit, but he could not move fast enough to avoid the swinging arc of the heavy iron chain. The metal hit him square above his left ear. Remy flew sideways, impacting against a wall and crumbled to the floor.

“Come on, Girly, we gonna have ourselves some fun,” Brock said as he grabbed Nadia’s limp body and chucked her into the arms of the third thug who still blocked the exit. “Take her out, Jimbo. Me and Lenny are gonna make sure we have no… interruptions.” His eyes returning to the collapsed form near his feet.

Nadia stared at Remy in shock. She did not even feel the hands that clutched at her, trying to drag her numbed body from the alcove. She watched the blood pooling on the tar beneath his head. Blood ran from a jaggered gash on his left temple. The flesh had already begun to swell, splitting the skin further apart and exposing white sinew and torn pink muscle. Large scratches covered his right cheek evidence of the force at which he had hit the wall. The glasses smashed and his eyes rolled in their sockets, but did not open.

Remy fought to remain conscious. He could feel their presence over him, willing his body to move, but time inched by and he could only feel himself slipping deeper. It was as if the wall was not solid, as if instead of bouncing off of it, he passed right through and was still falling. It was as if the dense material of brick and cement clung to his limbs and squeezed the breath from his body. He knew he had to move. He had to protect them and their ‘home.’ He heard the whimpers from Martin and Eugene as they cringed in the shelter. He sensed the tremors as they ran through Nadia’s body. He felt the anger as it radiated off of Franky. The rage and pain of the thugs coupled with raw fear hit his unshielded mind in waves overwhelming him, invading his soul and sending his body into dry heaves. He did not even feel the kicks that reigned down upon his unprotected torso.

Brock leaned against the wall, steadying himself as he placed his full weight behind each kick. He watched in glee at the boy’s unconscious attempts to evade them. He barely heard the shriek of fury from behind him, but he felt the brute force of a tiny figure as it slammed into his back. Claws imbedded themselves in his cheeks, raking their way down. Sharp blows hit his lower back. He bellowed in fury and swung himself round, sending the small weight flying. He turned back to slap Lenny on the shoulder and jerked his head to the exit. With one final kick each to Remy’s midriff, they followed Jimbo out to the alley.

Remy pried his eyes open, and desperately survey his surroundings. His head swam, and images were little more than swirling colours. Franky lay prone amongst the splintered remains of their shelter. Her pain-filled whimpers escaped along with gasped breaths.

“Wemy…”

Remy lifted his head. Her hand reached in his direction. With a deep breath he gathered his will a pulled his way to her form.

A large splinter pointed up from between her ribs. Blood soaked her faded blue dress. Sweat beaded her face while her clear blue eyes fixed on his face. “Wemy?”

“Quoi, petite?” His voice betrayed none of the pain he felt.

“You not mad about the picture, are you?”

“Non, petite. Remy loves it,” he said as he smiled down at her blanched face.

“I told Nadia you would…” Her voice trailed off as she shuddered her last breath.

Remy’s head dropped, his anguish breaking through. He had failed.

Footnotes:

- Remy's spatial awareness does not belong to me or Marvel. In fact it belongs to the Fanfiction Goddess Valerie Jones. It first appeared in her fanfic series "The Betrayal Arc" many years ago, and has since become staple in Remy fanfiction. This series and her other fanfiction can be found at I do recommend reading her series, they are classics.