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A Promise Made - REVIEW THIS STORY

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

Chapter 1

It was a Sunday afternoon in early spring and New York was just recovering from a large blizzard. The sun was shining brightly, giving the false impression of warmth in the brisk day, and creating an odd mixture of ice and slush that polluted the ground under his tires. Remy didn't mind though. He was a man on a mission.

He had been pulling strings for weeks, and was finally close to his goal. He arrived in the city a few hours before the rendezvous time, and decided to get a bit to eat before he made his way over to the club. It wasn't located in the safest place in the world, and better to go into a fight on a full stomach than an empty one.

Remy frowned, looking at the restaurants he passed as he drove down the street. Ah, New York. Three McDonalds on every street, an' never a place to eat. He was so caught up in watching the stores that had someone not yelled from the sidewalk, he would have hit a pedestrian with his bike. Thanks to the warning, he looked up just in time to see her and literally skidded to a halt in the slush. From beneath his ever-present darkened shades, he gave her the once over to make sure she was all right.

She was a pretty girl of about Jubilee's age. She looked a little wrecked and very lost. But more than that, she screamed she was in danger with a body language more powerful than words.

She didn't seemed at all phased by her brush with death; didn't even slow in her progress. She just kept wondering across the street until she reached halfway, at which point she did finally stop. She looked up as if startled by something, then turned and looked behind her.

Remy followed her gaze. His eyes came to rest on a man in an alley where the girl had just come from. He was shrouded by shadow, and had Remy not been looking for him, he probably wouldn't have seen him. He wore covering clothes: A long black duster, a big black hood and a pair of dull ray bans. Under his jacket, Remy could make out a long slender bulk, most likely a weapon of some sort. Remy was unsure exactly what kind of weapon it was, but the size and the manor by which the man's hand hovered near the top of it told Remy that it was probably some kind of blade.

As Remy stared at him, the world around him seemed to be forgotten. While there was a sort of beauty about him he was most definitely not a beautiful person, but rather he possessed the distinct aura of a killer.

He held a steely gaze on his face, and as his eyes focused on the eyes of the girl, a sardonic grin spread across his lips. Then slowly, in an eerie fluidic motion, the man's head turned in a calculated sweep in Gambit's direction.

His expression didn't change, and were Gambit a man to be intimidated easily, he would be shaking in his boots. As it was, a cold shiver passed up his spine. For a moment Remy felt as though he might have known the man, but he couldn't place where from.

A horn blew from behind, causing him to jump and forget his reverie momentarily. He turned back to look at the car behind him and to deal the driver a customary dirty glare through his darkened helmet. He knew full well the gesture was redundant, as the man in the car couldn't see his expression, but couldn't part from tradition. Then, ignoring him, he returned his attention back to the shadows. To his dismay, the man was gone. Turning his head to look for the girl, he was farther annoyed to realise that she too was missing.

The car behind him made a second honk of it's horn. "All right!" Remy replied, starting back on his way, but not being able to forget the mysterious man.

It took him some time, but Remy finally decided on a place to eat. He pulled up at a Dunkin Donuts, wishing it was a Tim Hortons, but settling for second rate. An hour later he was still sitting in the small coffee shop, sipping the same cappuccino and staring blankly out the window.

He was thinking about the girl, but oddly enough he couldn't place an image of her in his mind's eye. He was pretty sure that she had had brown hair, but was unconfident as to how long it was, or what colour her eyes were, or what colour and style of clothes she had been wearing, or much of anything for that matter. She just looked so de-shelved, so scared and alone.

He remembered being in her predicament on numerous occasions growing up. He wondered if he had stuck out in anyone's memory the way she had to him, wondered if anyone had stopped to care what happened to him. He shook that off with an ironic grin. He knew that if someone had, it would have made some sort of difference. At least he hoped it would have.

Thinking of what he had to endure, he became more determined to find her. Problem being, he didn't have the slightest clue where to start. New York was a big place, and people like her got lost in the shuffle every day.

This is why, when he saw her walk by across the street and turn into a dark alley, he almost spit his mouthful of cappuccino across the table. He somehow managed to keep it down with only a minimal of choking, as he reached into his pocket for cash. He handed a crumpled bill to the waitress, muttering "Keep the change," and running out the door. If he hadn't been so distracted, he might have noticed the wide-eyed expression on her face, and realised that he had handed her a fifty, not a five, but he probably still wouldn't have cared.

"Thank you! Have a nice day!" She yelled after him.

Remy ran out into the traffic, narrowly missing being hit by a truck, and went after the girl into the alley. She was huddled next to a Dumpster, crying and shivering, and looking very afraid. She jumped as he entered the alley, big blue eyes glistening with tears, and looked as if she would run.

"Don' be afraid," he cooed to her, "I ain' goin' t' hurt you." Her face was covered in brown dirt and bruises that Remy hadn't noticed before. She had two sets of lighter tracks that ran down her face from where the tears had flown, and her shoulder length, red hair was covered in brown dirt as well.

She was terror filled and didn't appear to believe his words, but she wasn't running and that was all that was important to him at that moment. "Name's Remy." He smiled reassuringly and took a step forward but she jumped back. Frowning and scolding himself for not expecting that reaction, he took a seat on the ground to make himself appear less threatening. "Y' got a name?"

She bit her lip.

"Look, I'm not here t' hurt you. I jus' saw y' earlier, and thought you looked like y' might need some help."

She appeared almost confused by this, but then her look went to disbelieving, and mistrusting. "Why?" She spat at him. "Why should you care when no one else does? No wait, let me guess I know how you feel, I was once like you, or how about I'm just looking out for your best interests. Here, I though you might be hungry. Well I've heard it all before buddy. You give me a little food, and then expect a little something in return." She folded her arms.

Remy frowned at her mocking tone. Somehow the response of Well, actually...When I was a kid... Just didn't seem right, so he changed the subject. "Who was de guy from before?"

She shivered, and for a moment it appeared as if she was going to tell him, but then her face set itself, "What are you, my social worker?"

He sighed. He was frustrated, but could understand. He probably would have reacted the same way as her when he was at that age. Dis isn' TV, trust takes more den two sentences. He reminded himself. "Look--"

"No, You look! I--" She cut herself off with a quick and deep intake of breath, and stared wide-eyed at the entrance to the alley.

"There you are," the cold and raspy words came from behind him but before he even turned his head, Remy knew exactly whose face he would see. "I been lookin' for you girl. Now you just come quietly, and I make it as quick as possible."

As the man spoke his threats to the girl, Remy scrambled to get to his feet. It was his intention to keep himself between the man and the girl, but didn't have much luck. Before he got fully upright, he was at Remy's back, and had a hold of him by the hair. "You stay out of this, boy," he stated, pulling Remy's head back with one hand and holding a double- edged blade to his throat. "This is none of your business."

If his calm, whispered voice wasn't intimidating enough, the position he was holding Remy in should have done the trick. However, Remy was never one to pass up a dare. He replied glibly, "Well, I'm makin' it my business!" while jabbing his elbow back into the man's ribs. When the man had the expected reaction of letting go, Remy turned to face him, taking up the original fighting position he had been trying to move to.

The man didn't appear to be all too fazed by Remy's actions. In fact, to Remy's confusion, he seemed almost pleased. "You've got guts. I shall enjoy licking them from my blade." With that said, he moved in for the kill.

Remy mentally kicked himself for leaving his staff with his ride. For that matter, he kicked himself for leaving the helmet that Ororo had finally coaxed him into wearing. This guy was fast, and that sword was sharp. If all else failed he still had his powers to fall back on, but better not to play all of his cards at once, so to speak. As the two entered into combat, Remy did his best to study his opponent's manoeuvres.

His style was familiar, and again, Remy had the sensation that they had met before. His motion was quick and deadly, but soft and quiet. That added to his clothes brought Remy to the assumption that he was a member of one of the New York guilds. Possibly a thief, but more likely an assassin.

The probable-assassin brought the blade down on the area between his throat and his shoulder. Had Remy not side-stepped and dropped, he would have lost his right arm.

Remy bit the side of his cheeks, trying to stop himself from yelling out in pain. He stared up at his attacker, realising that he wouldn't be able to defeat him without resorting to the use of his powers.

His attacker was smiling at him. "My name is Ezreal. You should know it as the name of the man who will destroy you," he stated, moving towards him. "Take solace in knowing that you fought well, even though there really was no way you could have won." He smiled, taking pleasure in his gloating. "If you were a Klingon, I'm sure this would be considered a truly honourable

death." He brought up his blade to make the final blow, but was distracted by the sound of falling garbage cans, somewhere in the distance. The girl was fleeing, and Ezreal had no intentions of having to track her down again. It would be even harder in the falling darkness.

His smile turned to a frown as he turned back to Remy to finish it quickly so he could capture his prey. Remy, however, had other ideas. He reached for a nearby piece of trash, charged it and threw it in Ezreal's face. "Today is not a good day to die," Remy uttered before turning to chase after the girl.

The alleyways were oddly entwined, and it seemed like forever before Remy managed to find the girl. He spotted her just in time to see her duck into the back of a two-story building and decided it best to follow.

The door turned out to be the back entrance to a night-club, making it hard for Remy to find the girl again. He scanned the room from a safe distance, trying to remain inconspicuous. It took him a few moments to locate her in the crowd, but he did. She was climbing a set of spiral, metallic stairs leading to various platforms, populated with modern-day go-go-girls.

Remy made his way to the stairs. He followed her up and went into the same door that she had. The room appeared to be an office of some sort. It had a large oak desk in front of a set of heavy, drawn curtains. The only light in the room came from a pair of red sparkle lamps on either side of the curtains.

Remy pushed the door closed behind him, cutting off the sounds of the revellers and peered around the almost-darkness for the girl. He would have removed the shades to make things easier for him, but he doubted that his demonic-looking eyes would instil anything but fear in the young girl's mind.

"Why are you following me?" A quiet voice came from the darkness to his left.

"I tol' you I wanted t' help," he replied, more softly than he had intended.

"Why though? What are you looking for in exchange?"

"I don' wan' anything. Jus' t' make sure you're okay."

Silence. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't see anything. He began to wonder if she was even still there. Then he heard her. She had begun to cry again. "I'm sorry I got you involved in this... Sorry I led you here..."

Remy had to admit he wasn't entirely comfortable; his shoulder, arm and throat were throbbing, but that had nothing to do with her. "Dis isn' your fault girl. Don' blame y'self f' dat jackass chasin' y' in here. An' don' you go blamin' y'self f' me wantin' t' stop him from hurtin' people." He smiled, "Maybe I just thick-headed, non?"

"You're a good person... I shouldn't have led you here." She was talking to herself, sounding very resolved. Then Remy could hear get up from where she had been sitting-- from the sound, a leather chair or sofa-- and come towards him. She grabbed his arm and opened the door. "Come on, we have to get out of here. It's not safe."

Remy swore under his breath and grabbed her pulling her back in the room and locking the door behind them, once he noticed there was a lock. "He's down dere."

"Well the lock isn't going to stop him. This is his office."

Remy turned a questioning gaze on her even though he couldn't make her out very well in the darkness, but quickly put aside his questions and set his mind to work on more pressing matters; Such as getting out alive. He ran towards the window, not bothering to go around the desk, but rather jumping over it. He flung open the curtains to see what sort of window was behind them. He frowned when he saw it didn't open, but quickly thought up a new plan.

"Come here," he ordered, pushing the items off the desk, then before waiting to see if she would respond, he stated, "Help me push dis in front of de door." After only a slight hesitation she complied.

They managed to do as Remy had intended before their pursuers reached them. He picked up a pair of letter openers, just as the doorknob began to rattle. Remy stood about a meter to the left of the door, on the side that it opened to. He told the girl, "Stay down, cover y' head, an' don' move until I tell y' to."

He charged the first opener and threw it at the window. The effect was spectacular, as usual. The window shattered, sending a spray of glass in every direction, but most went outside to the alley. Remy hoped that there had been no one there to catch it, but didn't have long to worry about it, as the door opened beside him. The desk was tossed aside much easier than Remy had expected, but he didn't have much time to adjust to this fact.

"Go!" He yelled, pulling the girl up from the floor beside him, and kicking the first person to enter in the stomach. He was sent reeling back into the second, causing the both to fall down the stairs behind them. The third- Ezreal-- narrowly missed this domino effect, but it had slowed him for the time it took to dodge.

He entered just as the girl reached the window and climbed out. Remy was expecting Ezreal not to be caught up in the fall, and used the other letter opener like a small charged dagger. He struck in a similar place to where Ezreal had dealt Remy the earlier blow, digging in and embedding it tightly.

The charge it carried was enough to blow a small hole in the side of his neck, and give Remy enough time to run after the girl.

Instead of sticking to the ledge as she had done, Remy decided to take the faster route. He jumped through the hole and across the alley, landing on the fire escape that snaked up a building on the other side. It wasn't the elegant cat-like landing that he normally made. He went down for a moment when he hit, rolling into the brick wall. The blood loss from Ezreal's

strike was slowing him down a lot more than he would have liked to admit and it took him a few moments to get up again.

As he climbed down the ladder, he spared a glance over his shoulder, and saw Ezreal step out onto the ledge. For a moment Remy was horrified, believing that Ezreal would push the girl to the ground but was relieved when he didn't. Instead he casually walked over the side and landed on the ground below, without so much as the bat of an eyelash.

"Shit," Remy murmured, as he reversed his direction and climbed as fast as he could to the top. This building was about five stories taller than the one he had just exited, and he cursed himself for simply not doing the same thing as Ezreal had done. He realised that he had probably had too much momentum to do that anyway, but knew that it was going to be a lot harder to

get down from the seventh story than it would be from the second.

Ezreal was quick to follow him, content to ignore the girl for now. By thetime they reached the fifth floor he was close on Remy's heals. The system of ladders and platforms was sub par at best, and it rattled and shook as the two made their way quickly to the top.

As Remy reached the halfway point between the fifth and sixth floor Ezreal got a hold on his ankle, causing Remy to slip a bit, hitting the bottom of his chin on one of the rungs. Still holding onto the ladder, he kicked out with his free leg, managing to strike Ezreal in the face.

Ezreal lurched back, letting go of both the ladder and Remy, and fell down to the fifth floor. Remy caught up his balance and quickly continued on his way, not even bothering to spare Ezreal a glance. There was really no point, Remy knew he was all right, he knew he was pissed and he would be quick to follow again.

Remy made it to the top and quickly surveyed the layout. There was no way down, but about a room's length away there was another story with another ladder leading up the side. Remy ran for the ladder. He had to hope that there would be a way down the other side from the top.

He jumped for the bars when he thought himself close enough, managing to make it about a quarter of the way up. He climbed for all he was worth, doing his best to ignore the pain that shot up his arm as he did so.

When he reached the top, he finally turned backwards, preparing himself for an attack and found that Ezreal was nowhere to be found. His heart sank as he believed that Ezreal had turned around to go after the girl.

He was bent to start back down the ladder when he heard a voice from behind him. "Don't worry about the girl Cajun. I've got bigger fish to fry."

Slowly and carefully, Remy turned towards Ezreal's voice. The first thing he saw was the blade levelled straight at his face, glinting in the now moonlight. Ezreal tapped the flat of it lightly under Remy's chin, urging him to stand up straight.

Through the shadows and odd reflections caused by both the moon and various lights from surrounding buildings, Remy's recognition of this man grew deeper. Remy was tempted to try to disarm his pursuer, but his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Who are you?"

Ezreal smiled. As he did, his teeth became sharper and longer, glinting bright white. His face became more pale and feral, yet more angular and chiselled. Remy corrected himself as he watched. Not chiselled, but rather sunken, and sickly. At a glance, Remy would say this was the face of a dead man.

He then reached up and removed his sunglasses, revealing the steeliest grey eyes Remy had ever known. As he placed them in an inside jacket pocket, Remy noticed that his fingers were becoming longer and thinner, as where his nails... Remy corrected himself: Not nails, claws.

He removed his jacket, and Remy noticed that the wound he had inflicted was almost healed. His body, in contrast to his limbs, was thick and muscular and Remy's blood turned cold. Fear filled Remy stronger than he had ever known it, and he watched in horror as a simply threatening man turned into one of the most threatening men he had ever had the displeasure to know.

Still keeping the sword close to Remy's throat, Ezreal leaned closer and whispered, "Been a long time boy. I promised Capran I would get you back, and I aim to make that happen."

A small, slow trickle of blood formed on the edge of the sword, as Ezreal ever so slightly nicked Remy's skin. "Why don' y' put down de weapon an' fight like a man f' a change," Remy whispered in anger-slicked response, coming to realise that he had been set up.

Ezreal smiled again, and backed up from Remy. His form continued to shift. He grew larger and paler with each step and when he ceased, merely three or four metres from Remy, he stood eight feet tall with hands to crush, talons to slash and teeth to kill. He stared at Remy, laughing, gloating, as a set of dragon's wings sprouted from his back. He laughed insanely, with the sadistic tone of one who tortured for pleasure "Do you, in all honesty, believe that the difference my sword makes could be enough to allow you to defeat me?" Then, throwing it to the side, he stated, "Very well then, show me what you have."

Remy lunged, not for the Ezreal, but rather for the sword. It was true that Ezreal could and would kill him, whether he had the sword or not, but if Remy could possess it, it might be able to give him something to defend against those claws.

Remy hit the ground rolling and grabbing the sword with his left hand. He turned to face Ezreal in the same motion, just in time to deflect Ezreal's talons with his own blade. Remy attempted to get to his feet, but Ezreal had not been slowed enough to allow that.

Without backing off for a moment, Ezreal landed on top of Remy, knocking the blade from his hands, and the breath from his lungs. "You're not making this very challenging boy," he stated, pining down Remy's legs with his own and holding his arms above his head with one gigantic hand, the second grasping Remy's jacket and shirt.

Remy struggled to get free, but couldn't. "I was hoping to make this last longer, to make the pain unbearable for you, as you did to her. Could you hear her screams in your mind as you killed her?" He was no longer laughing, no longer grinning, this was no longer a game. "She was so beautiful! How could you destroy her like you did?"

"I didn' have a choice..." Remy whispered back, as his breath came back to him. "She didn' lea--"

Ezreal let go of Remy's hands, lifted his upper body from the roof by his collar, and slammed his head back into it, cutting Remy's sentence short. "Liar! She would never have harmed you! She loved you, and you... You didn't give a damn," he hissed.

"das' not true..." Remy swallowed, trying to wet his mouth enough to speak. "I cared a lot for Capran..."

Ezreal yelled in anger, and tossed Remy back to the wall. As Remy used the top of the ladder and a barrier that ran around the entire roof to haul himself upright, Ezreal picked up his sword and stalked quickly towards him. Remy got himself to a standing position and looked up just in time to see Ezreal's giant hand lay itself flat against his chest, pushing him against

the edge of the barrier. There was no where for him to go.

Remy watched in stunned horror as he lifted his sword above his head, and aimed to remove Remy's from his shoulders. "You prove unworthy of Capran's gift... It ends here and now boy... My sister is avenged." He brought the sword down with deadly precision, and Remy slammed his eyes shut to block out the inevitable final blow. He wondered if what they said about being able to see for so many seconds after being decapitated was true. He was about to find out.

To his surprise however, the sword didn't connect. Instead, Remy's ears were met with the sound of metal on metal, and another voice he recognised from his past. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, vampire."

As the weight upon Remy's chest removed itself, he opened his eyes, and saw the back of the man who had spoken. It was Blade, the vampire hunter. A man Remy had known since he was a child, a man who had, long ago, been Remy's dearest and only friend.

Blade had taken a similar defensive position to the one Remy had used earlier in the alley. He stood with his back to Remy, left hand out protectively to the side, the other stretched out in front; clasping to a golden sword and serving to keep distance between himself and his attacker.

Blade's sword was thinner and sharpened on only one side, as opposed to two. The hilt and even the blade itself were rather decorated, and the golden metal glinted in the moonlight the way Ezreal's did, only brighter. It looked as if it belonged in a museum, instead of in the hands of this bulk of a warrior.

"Are you okay?" Blade asked quietly, but not softly and without turning. The tone of his voice remained strong and gruff, as it always did, despite the whisper.

Normally, if this were the X- Men, Remy would have lied. He would have said 'Never better' but Blade knew him well enough to see through all of his false bravado and so he said "I be okay, f' now."

As Remy gathered his composer, balance and wits, Blade and Ezreal-- who was now almost ten feet tall-- engaged each other in combat. For a bit, it appeared that the two were evenly matched, but Ezreal landed a lucky blow, causing Blade to fall to the ground. He kicked Blade's sword away from him, and then lifted his own above his head, making ready for the final cut.

Remy's heart leapt into his throat. Without giving it much thought, he ran at Ezreal, caught him in the mid- section, and tumbled the two of them over the side of the building. As they fell, Remy held tight to Ezreal's waist. He wondered how long it would take Ezreal to remember he had wings.

Remy fought to stay on top, to keep control of the fall, and out of reach of Ezreal's fangs and claws. All he knew was that push came to shove, and they hit the street, he did not want to be on the bottom. They fell three stories before Ezreal decided to spread his wings. They whipped out in a fierce anger, breaking Remy's grasp and pushing him from his only lifeline.

As Ezreal caught a drift and went up, Remy went down. His stomach lurched. He would not be able to survive an eight story drop on his own. Staring up at Ezreal he thought of the TV show "Gargoyles" and how the way Ezreal glided reminded him of the creatures on that show. What was it Tori said? 'Funny, the things you think, at times like these'

For the second time that night, Remy closed his eyes and waited to die. And for the second time that night, he was met with a very pleasant surprise. His arms began to burn, not in the same way they did when he used his powers, but more like someone had taken glowing hot metal cuffs and strapped them around his wrists.

"Sorry about the burns buddy, but it's a lot better than the fall you were about to take," came the voice of Johnny Storm-- one fourth of the Fantastic Four.

The rushing of wind slowed, and Remy was set lightly to the pavement. He dropped himself lightly to his knees and as Johnny removed his hands he replaced them with his own, reflexively cupping his wounds. "T'anks," he stated sincerely.

"Don't mention it."

"What is that thing?" Sue Ritchards, or "The Invisible Woman" asked him.

Remy grunted. Forcing himself to take his mind away from his slightly burned wrists, he looked back up in the sky for Ezreal. He took a long drawn out breath. "Do you believe in vampires?"

"Vampires? You've got to be kidding! Aliens, mutants, weird genetic accidents, people with super powers? Sure, I can believe all that. I've seen that. Hell I am some of that! But Vampires? There's no way!" Johnny replied.

A loud banshee wail echoed over the city, and Ezreal reappeared from around the side of one of the buildings. "Right. Well den say hi to a figment of my imagination." Remy stated sarcastically, raising on his shaking legs to a fighting stance.

A voice to his left, caught his attention, and Remy turned to see a news crew standing beside him. The reporter pointed to the sky and said to the cameraman, "Make sure you get that!"

"Sure thing Trish!"

Remy surveyed the rest of the scene around Johnny, Sue and himself, discovering that a small crowd had formed around them. "We haf' to end dis. People are gonna get hurt."

"What does that thing want? Maybe we can bargain with it." Sue stated.

"It want's me... Tortured, in pain, dead. Two out of three, I c'n handle f' now, but I'm a little shaky on de dead aspect."

"Understandable." Johnny stated. He wasn't joking, simply agreeing. "How do we stop it?"

Ezreal landed on the ground in front of them. "Simple boy. You don't." He turned his attention off of them, and on to Remy. "Give up Cajun. You can't win."

Remy smiled. He decided that the best solution was to try to get Ezreal off guard, try to make him make mistakes. "Capran never would loved a quitter, homme ."

Ezreal's face bunched. His eyes glowed in anger. He allowed himself to grow another foot, added to whatever he had grown in the sky. Then in anger, instead of focusing on Remy, he turned his attention to the news crew. Remy anticipated his actions just in time and leapt to push them out of the way.

He somehow managed to succeed, and Ezreal's razor claws came down through the air, instead of through Trish's body. Remy, however, had reacted exactly the way Ezreal had expected him to, placing himself dangerously close to him, and just out of the protective reaches of his allies.

Remy realised his mistake, but also realised that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. With the same hand that he had lashed out at Trish with, Ezreal came back on Remy before he had time to move.

Remy's neck ended up between Ezreal's ring and middle fingers. His right arm fell between Ezreal's middle finger and index, and his left one between the ring finger and the pinkie. With Ezreal's thumb placed between his legs he held Remy tightly in his grasp. From the momentum of the swipe, Ezreal pushed Remy hard to the ground, digging his talons into the cement and

easily breaking through. Ezreal had Remy pinned better than anyone professional wrestling had ever even dreamed.

For a moment after his head hit, Remy's mind swirled. His vision blacked, his hearing dimmed. He was unsure as to how long he was unconscious, but when his sight cleared, Ezreal was no longer paying any attention to him. He was still held in Ezreal's massive hand, but he was being swung around wildly in the air, as were a few large pieces of the road that Remy could

feel digging at his back.

Around him the crowd of press and onlookers had been moved away. They had been replaced by Blade, the rest of the Fantastic Four, and Jean and Cyclops. Remy thanked whatever Gods looked after scoundrels and thieves when he remembered that Jean had had some shopping to do, and had dragged Cyclops with her.

He could feel the light touch of a telekinetic shield around him. He was unsure as to which of the ladies had placed it there, but he made note to himself to thank them both later as it was probably the only reason he was still alive.

Blade had replaced his sword with a gun and he and Mr. Fantastic, who held a similar weapon, were shooting at Ezreal; as were The Human Torch and Cyclops, using their own powers as ammo, instead of a gun.

Ezreal was not pleased. And for this reason, he was ignoring Remy. Not enough to set him down, but enough that he had yet to notice him reawaken.

Remy slowly placed his hands on top of Ezreal's, taking caution not to alert him of his actions, and started to charge. Remy could not charge most people. The living cells couldn't be manipulated the same way as inanimate objects. However, vampires, as a rule, were no longer living, and thus were not so lucky as to be immune from Remy's powers.

The charge spread almost fully up his arm before Ezreal even noticed what was happening. He stopped an attack at the Thing mid-swing and brought Remy up to face him.

Gambit!!! What are you doing?!? Jean's voice cut into his head, and he almost winced at her tone.

Duck an' cover Jeannie. He trusted her and Sue to maintain a shield and protect everyone.

"Everyone get down!" Remy heard Blade and Cyclops yell in unison.

You little fucker... Ezreal roared inside Remy's head, as well as letting out a massive vocal growl, and throwing him to the ground in anger.

Remy landed face down, the chunks of pavement on top of him, and stayed unmoving until he heard the explosion. A spray of hot blood splattered all around. Remy for the most part was covered with the stuff, both by his own and now Ezreal's.

Ezreal screamed in anguish and took off for the skies. He wasn't followed. The only ones that could were too tired and too worried about Remy to bother.

Blade, unsurprisingly, was the first one to reach him. He pushed the rubble from his body, and rolled him over to face him. "Moron," he whispered so that only Remy could hear him.

Remy heard him, but didn't respond. Jean was beside him in an instant. She was doing her best to cover his wounds. She tied a scarf around the worst one, the one at his shoulder, and put her sweater under his head to stop the bleeding there.

Remy blinked, trying to remain awake, to try to keep track of the situation, but failed. Sleep was deep and blessed.

As Remy slept, he dreamt. As he dreamt, he remembered. Things flashed in his mind's eye in the uncontrolled and random order of a dream.

He saw himself as a small child, running. He was hungry, and had stolen a morsel of food from a local vendor. The fat man who owned the stand had called for the police, as if Remy was the greatest outlaw in all of New Orleans.

He managed to ditch police in an alley, but they had seen his face. They would catch him if they saw him again, if they could get close enough. Remy swore to himself that he wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let himself be put back in that orphanage.

The other kids there hated him, which was all fine and good for Remy, because he hated them too. They would beat him and torture him whenever they got the chance. So whenever Remy got the chance to leave he did so, hoping beyond hope that this time, This time he would be able to escape. That he would be able to keep himself away from trouble long enough that they would forget about him, and not catch him up and send him back.

The last time he had made the mistake of stealing a pair of shades to hide himself from the crowd, to escape their persecution. This time his sin was being hungry.

He sat in the darkness and tried not to cry.

The immediate passing of dream time came, and it was night. Remy was still sitting in the alley, huddling to himself to try to keep warm, when someone entered the darkness with him.

He was a tall man. That is to say, he was tall to a child. To another adult he would have been about average height, maybe shorter. He had greasy brown hair and hazel eyes. His step swayed and was uneven, telling Remy that the man had probably been drinking.

Remy caught his breath, attempting to stay unnoticed in the shadows, but he was not so lucky. The man saw him and started making his way towards him. As he got closer, Remy was overtaken by the sickening smell of liquor on his breath and his clothes.

It was clear that he had had way too much to drink by the way he stepped, the stench of the liquor, and the left over vomit which he had neglected to clean from himself after missing the toilet.

Remy was repulsed and afraid. He leapt to his feet to break into a run, but the drunk caught his arm tight, and wouldn't let go. "Hey they'a buhy'. Whe' y'all goin' off t' in such a hurry?" (That would be "Hey there boy. Where are you going off to in such a hurry?" in very Thick drunken Texan.)

Remy swallowed in fear, as the drunk looked him over and licked his lips. He ran his hand down the side of Remy's face and urged Remy deeper into the alley. "Y' sh'r are a pre'y lil' thang."

Remy struggled and pulled and tried to get free, too no avail. The man was too strong and big and there was no one around to hear him yell. Nightmares had ways of making people conveniently absent just when they were needed the most.

To Remy though, this was no nightmare. This was a grim reality. A conglomeration of various other realities, sucked into one. This man was not real. He did not exist. Rather, he was a combination of various people from Remy's past. When he was small and fragile and innocent. To an adult with malicious intent? Helpless.

At least that was the way it had usually been. This time was different. The man slammed him to the ground, held him tightly with his knees, caressed his young flesh, undid his belt... Remy categorised his movements. He told himself that it would be over soon, that he would be all right... In time. In time things would be safe again. In time the pain would stop.

He cried. Soft, sweet tears shed for innocence lost.

Then something different. The man had ceased to pay attention to him. In the corner his eye, Remy caught a shadow. There was someone in the ally. He went still, afraid to move.

The man started to laugh. Remy was terrified. A friend? Not a friend... Oh please not a friend... Please God Please, not a friend...

The man's laughing was cut short by a quick yell of pain and anger. Then there were hands lifting him up. Small hands. Hands only slightly larger than his own. A child.

Remy was gently rushed forward, on his shaking legs. "Run," a young boy's voice whispered into his hair, just above his ear.

Remy shivered, but didn't pause. He did indeed run, the other boy at his heals, and the man only slightly behind that. Remy was fast. He should have been able to leave the both of them in the dust. Should have, but didn't.

He ran into the ally, aware that he was only gaining a small amount of ground from the boy. He stumbled and nearly fell. The boy caught his arm and Remy saw him for the first time. Looked at him, into his eyes. They were full of pain, fear, hardness, and abandonment. More than that they were glowing bright red.

A kindred spirit.

Hope filled him. Rejuvenated, he regained his step, the foot falls of the man not far behind. He became determined to get away. But wouldn't leave the new boy behind. He realised that he could now. He had his composure. He could out run the two of them in an instant. But this boy had risked his life to save him. Remy had never had anyone give a damn one way or another.

They had to get away. And they had to stick together to do it.

It wouldn't be easy, Remy had seen his face, could identify him. Could place him behind bars. For this reason the man had sobered enough to chase him. Amazing what desperation could do to a fellow, when it threatened with enough intensity. He was afraid of losing his life... But then, so were they.

The two turned a corner and came to face nightmare turned reality. A dead end. An eight foot brick wall, some forty feet away. The second boy slowed, Remy ran faster. He leapt just before it, landing easily on top.

He faced freedom, and turned away to look back, not even knowing why.

The second boy had stopped and was preparing to make a stand. Remy was shocked, yet impressed and pleased. This new boy was a fighter. "Com'on!" Remy yelled, reaching out with one hand to him, while balancing himself with the other.

The boy turned. He wore the same expression of shock and approval. He started to run for Remy's hand, at the same time as the man turned the corner. It was clear to Remy that the boy was tired: his step was slower. The man's was faster, so close to achieving his goal at the same time so close to losing it.

The boy leapt for Remy's hand, the man for the boy's leg. Both caught. Remy, not expecting this, was almost toppled. He slammed himself into the wall and used his legs and his other arm to balance and pull back while trying to keep from falling. He pulled hard enough to lift himself to a standing position and leaned backwards over the other edge, using his own as much of his small mass as possible to help pull. Then the weight on his arms shifted.

The boy must have gotten free somehow. Remy fell. Hard. Things paused.

When he opened his eyes he was still in the ally. The other boy sitting against the wall, looking at him. Memory filled Remy. He bolted upright. The man...

As if knowing his thoughts, the boy stated "He's gone. Gave up." He tried not to make it show, but an impressed smile hinted on his lips, "Couldn't make it over the wall."

Remy fidgeted. That was the closest to a complement he had ever come. "Umm..." He searched for something to say. On an impulse, he thrust out his hand and said "Remy." He had seen adults do it, and figured that it was what you were supposed to do.

The boy took his hand. "Christopher."

Remy didn't let go. He looked Christopher over. Studying him. Trying to understand him. "W-Why did you help me?" He finally stuttered out.

Christopher shrugged. "Seemed the thing to do."

Remy looked back into his eyes. They were no longer glowing. They were normal brown eyes. Remy was a little disappointed. He noticed Christopher staring into his eyes as well. His face also seemed a little disappointed.

"You're not like me then," Christopher stated, playing exactly on Remy's thoughts.

Remy pouted. "I don' know what I am. De people in de city call me a 'devil child'."

Christopher smiled knowingly. "I usually ignore the people in the city. Never seemed very intelligent to me."

Remy's smile was brilliant and for the first time in a long time, possibly ever, it reached his eyes.

That was how strength and courage, met speed and agility. There was a lot they could learn from each other. There was a lot they could teach each other. They would. They did.

 

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