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Chapters
Prolog
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilog
 
 
 

The Vault - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by NicoPony
Last updated: 08/15/2007 08:57:57 AM

Chapter 5

Can You Read My Mind? The Killers

The teenage queen

the loaded gun

the drop dead dream

the chosen one

a southern drawl

a world unseen

a city wall

and a trampoline

So I don’t mind

if you don’t mind

’cause I don’t shine

if you don’t shine

before you go

tell me what you find

when you read my mind

Remy was laying in bed, wondering what had caused him to wake. The digital clock on the nightstand read 6:20 A.M., which was entirely too early to be awake on a Saturday morning. Or any morning, for that matter. He gingerly touched the bruise on his face, which had morphed into a spectacular black eye. He’d had no intention of fighting any of the university students, but when several of the boys had jumped Jean, he found his options limited. Jean could hold her own in a fight, but Remy wasn’t going to stand by while a woman was being assaulted. He wished he’d jumped into the fray a little earlier. In truth, he’d been thinking about Xavier signing that big fat tuition check and that starting a riot was a piss-poor way of paying the man back. Then he’d been hit in the back of the head with someone’s lunch. While Remy had been temporarily blinded by Thai peanut sauce, some of the jerks had put in a few solid hits.

From outside, he heard the dual thunk of car doors closing. He sat up, pulled off the covers and moved to the window. He sidled past Piotr’s painting supplies, tiptoeing around damp splotches of cerulean blue and cadmium orange. Pulling back the shade, he peered down at the driveway below. The lawn was shrouded in early morning mist and lit by the gray glow of twilight. A dark sedan was parked before the front door. Two men clad in suits had just stepped from the vehicle. They could have been twins; same suits, same nondescript haircuts. Something about the pair immediately set off alarm bells in Remy’s head. From this distance it was hard to make out, but he was pretty sure the license plates were white with blue lettering. The string of plate numbers started off with the letters “CSA.” He had no idea what that stood for, but from their appearance and the government issued plates, he guessed the two men were federal agents. To a trained thief, law officers were instantly recognizable.

If he wasn’t fully awake before, the sudden jolt of adrenaline woke him faster than a plunge into a frozen lake. He turned and vaulted over Piotr’s worktable. A jar of turpentine rattled, but Remy settled it with a finger. Piotr did not stir.

Remy gathered his clothes from the day before and quickly yanked on the grass-stained jeans and the pilfered shirt he’d found several days ago when climbing down the laundry chute. Lastly, he seized his long duster from the back of the chair, shoved his feet into a pair of untied Puma sneakers, and ran out the door. By now, the doorbell had rung and people were gathering in the foyer. Questions were being asked.

Remy turned and bolted for the back stairs, which lead down to the kitchen area. He whispered down the staircase while considering his options for escape. He could head down the hall to the garage, or make a break for it through the kitchen. The kitchen’s back door led to the patio. Beyond that lay the forest which surrounded the estate. Remy leapt the last five steps and landed in a crouch on the plush carpet. He surged forward and through the swinging kitchen door. He soon found, to his dismay, that he’d made the wrong choice. Some acrobatics and a windmilling of arms prevented him from crashing into Wolverine. Slamming into a bad-tempered feral with an adamantium skeleton was not on his list of things to do today. He danced around Wolverine, but not before the man reached out and clamped a hand around Remy’s wrist.

“Where’s the fire, kid?” Logan asked.

“No fire. Got to get. Bye, now. Have a nice life,” he twisted free of Logan’s grip and bolted for the back door. He was brought up short when Logan seized the back of his shirt. Remy had to give the man credit, he was much faster than he looked.

“Now hold yer horses,” Remy continued to pull forward, his sneakers squeaking on the floor tiles. “What’re you runnin’ from?”

“Federal agents, at the front door!” his voice a harsh whisper.

“And what makes you think they’re comin’ for you?” Logan asked, pulling Remy around so he could look the kid in the face.

Just then, a telepathic summons echoed in the Institute inhabitants’ heads. “Jean Grey, Remy LeBeau, please report to my office as soon as possible.” The urgency in Xavier’s projected thoughts indicated his disquiet.

Remy’s eyes widened. “Lâches-moi,” he hissed at Wolverine. The honing steel from the knife block seemed to materialize in Remy’s hand. Logan had barely registered that Remy had grabbed the weapon before it was charged and held under his nose. “Maintenant!”

Logan growled. “Now, don’t get carried away, Cajun. We’ll have a talk with the Prof, get this all straightened out.”

“How would you like to be handed over to the government?” Remy said through gritted teeth.

Logan gave him a long considering look, then released Remy. “Get goin’,” he said, gesturing to the back door.

The honing tool disintegrated in a shower of harmlessly charged particles. Remy darted for the exit, just as the kitchen door swung open behind him.

“Halt!” cried an authoritative voice. “Stay where you are!”

Remy heard Logan’s sound of protest just as he reached the doorknob. He had no intention of obeying the voice. He yanked back on the knob, but the dead-bolt had been thrown. He cursed and pounded the lock with his palm. The lock exploded from the door as if fired from a gun. He had yanked the door open but a big hand slapped down onto the door, slamming it firmly shut. Another hand grabbed Remy’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He was propelled forward onto the kitchen table and slammed against the wooden top.

“Denti?” called a tinny voice from a communicator somewhere over Remy’s right shoulder. “Denti? Any problems?”

“No,” growled the man holding Remy to the tabletop. “You were right, LeBeau tried to do a runner.”

Remy felt handcuffs close around his wrists. As the cuffs snicked shut, he suddenly felt a powerful sensation of vertigo which was not helped when Denti yanked him upright.

Wolverine looked irate. “Where do you get off!” he snarled. “Comin’ in here and roughing up our students!?”

“I suggest, Mister Logan, that you step aside. Unless you would like to be charged with interfering with an arrest,” said the agent with forced calm. Remy was now stumbling like a drunk, and Denti was doing everything in his power just to keep the kid upright. Denti hauled Remy through the kitchen door and down the hallway. At the end of the hall, a dark figure was silhouetted against the bright morning light coming through the foyer windows.

Remy recognized the figure and was flooded with relief. Magneto will help me, Remy thought. But as the federal agent approached, Magneto stepped to the side, allowing the agent to pass. Magneto was gritting his teeth, his eyes were practically sparking with anger.

“Is that necessary?” he growled at the agent.

“And just who are you?” Agent Denti asked.

Magneto didn’t reply, save to glower at the agent.

Remy staggered and rebounded off the door jamb leading to Xavier’s office. Denti did nothing to prevent it. Remy reeled and thought he was going to hit the floor, but was instead forced into a chair. He felt a moment of embarrassment when he realized everyone living at the Institute had been standing out in the foyer.

Magneto strode into Xavier’s office, Logan hot on his heels. With a gesture, Magneto caused the door to fly shut, just before Logan could cross the threshold.

“Hey! What the---!” came a muffled protest, before it was met with the calmer cadence of Ororo’s voice. The pair argued just outside the door while the students began to talk excitedly and call out questions.

“Remy, are you all right?”

Remy looked up at Xavier and tried to focus. His equilibrium was completely off.

“What did you do to him?” Xavier asked, angrily.

The other agent in the room considered Remy for a moment before answering. “I suppose different mutants react differently to the inhibitors.” He spoke as if musing to himself.

“Wha-what?” asked a distracted voice. Remy hadn’t realized until now that Jean was sitting in an adjacent chair. She was paler than usual, her freckles stood out darkly on her white skin. She looked shell-shocked. Like Remy, she too was handcuffed. Unlike Remy, she’d been cuffed so her hands were before her, instead of behind her back. They were actually less like handcuffs and more like manacles.

There was an ear-popping buzz in the air, and pens and paper clips rattled on Xavier’s desk. Xavier slapped a hand over a spinning pen and shot a glance at Magneto. Something passed between the two men, and the buzz immediately stopped.

The two agents shared a look of their own.

“What exactly are the charges against my students?” Xavier asked at last.

“Under the revisions of the USAPATRIOT Act, we’re under no obligation to tell you,” replied one of the agents.

“That’s ridiculous!” Magneto snapped. “These are students, not terrorists!”

“We handle the affairs of the Commission on Superhuman Activities,” said the agent identified as Denti. “Any unlawful superhuman activity will be put under review by the Commission. You can place a complaint with them.” Denti beckoned his partner, and the other man pulled Jean to her feet.

“You’re not just going to let them take us, are you?” Remy asked incredulously.

“Go quietly, don’t do anything that would give them reason to punish you further,” Xavier said, but telepathically he added: “Gambit, there is more at stake here than you realize.” Remy’s nose wrinkled, discomfited with at the mental exchange.

“But, Professor...” Jean besought, and Remy realized he could hear her voice in his head as well. Xavier must have them all telepathically linked. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. “Where are they taking us?”

“I haven’t discerned that yet, Jean,” the Professor replied.

“Just erase their brains!” Remy thought at Xavier. “Make them forget why they’re here.”

“Agents Denti and Duncan are only acting on orders. There are far more powerful people here pulling the strings. Please, be patient.”

Remy looked at Magneto, who said nothing.

“Let’s go,” said Denti, grabbing Remy by the back of his shirt. The room seemed to spin wildly. Something bad had happened when he lost his powers. He was without his speedy reflexes, but the balance maintained by his inner-ear continued to overcompensate for a power that was no longer there. He could literally feel the downward linear pull of gravity. He had to concentrate on not being sick.

Agents Denti and Duncan escorted the captive pair from Xavier’s office. Jean wore a brave, but stubborn face. It had the effect of making her look less than fearsome, and even more adorable.

Scott gasped when he realized Jean had been handcuffed. “Jean...what? Professor!” He began to move toward the agents, but Magneto brought him up short. Scott looked angrily from Magneto to the federal agents. The agents eyed the other students gathered in the foyer. They all looked tensed for a fight.

“Don’t think we don’t know what kind of school you’re running here,” Agent Duncan said to no one in particular. “We’re under direct orders to take any of you who put up a resistance. If one of you steps a toe out of line, we’ll be back.”

The hostility in the air was palpable. The agents moved wordlessly forward, the two handcuffed students walking before them. Remy managed an accusatory glance over his shoulder at Magneto, but the man’s expression remained resolute.

“Be brave,” Xavier said into their minds. “We’ll put an end to this. We will find you.”

This reassurance did nothing to assuage Remy’s feelings of betrayal.

 

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