The Game of Empires - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones
Last updated: 02/13/2010 03:54:13 PM

Chapter 14

Gambit gave Lilandra a brief nod as he came to a stop before her, though whether it was respect or merely acknowledgment, she wasn’t certain. "Sorry, chere. I don’ know where de X-Men are," he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "We ain’ exactly on speakin’ terms dese days."

Lilandra’s eyebrows arched speculatively. It hadn’t been that long since the X-Men, Gambit included, had been battling the Phalanx in Shi’ar space. From his tone, it seemed that there must have been a very sharp conflict in the meantime that had caused such a rift.

"What happened?" she asked.

Gambit’s eyes snapped to hers, irises suddenly alight with eerie fire. Then, just as quickly, his gaze slid away from hers. "Call it ’philosophical differences’."

Lilandra pursed her lips as she considered him. Gambit possessed a surprising amount of political savvy. He had on several occasions surprised her with his ability to analyze the social and political ramifications of the X-Men’s actions on behalf of the Shi’ar Empire. A sarcastic comment here or there had given her a glimpse of the mind at work behind his disinterested facade. In light of that, she found it interesting that he chose not to criticize the X-Men publicly.

"Very well," she agreed after a moment. "But if that is so, why are you here? Do you know what happened to the mansion?" She indicated the barren room around them with the sweep of a hand.

He shook his head. "Onslaught caused de structural damage, but de rest..." He shrugged. "I don’ know. I wasn’ here." He regarded Lilandra through the long bangs that habitually fell in front of his eyes. "So what brought y’ all de way out here?" He sounded like he was trying to change the subject.

Lilandra decided to oblige him. "I couldn’t establish communication with the X-Men. I was concerned, and I wanted to see if they had heard more of Charles’ situation." She looked around. "Now I can see that all of the equipment is gone, which explains why I was unable to raise any response."

Gambit nodded absently. "Whoever did dis sure cleaned de place out, dat’s f’ sure." He pivoted on his heel. "Dis place’s like a tomb, chere. T’ink we might head upstairs where t’ings’re at least a little more normal?" His tone was light and slightly cajoling, completely at odds with his guarded stance.

Lilandra frowned, but nodded. The abrupt shift was disquieting, and she counseled herself to caution. There was a great deal going on here that she did not yet understand. However, she had no wish to alienate him, and the echoing emptiness of the lower levels was wearing on her as well.

They emerged near the kitchen, and Lilandra found herself drawn to what was now the most inviting room in the house. The signs of life, though sparse, were reassuring. Gambit opened several of the cabinets, examined their contents, and finally removed a box of cereal which he began eating from the top.

"Is this better?" she asked when he seemed to have settled. His acute discomfort was beginning to affect her. With a nod in Gladiator’s direction, she sent the Praetor to patrol the mansion.

"It’s fine, chere."

Lilandra leaned back against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms. "What are you doing here, Gambit?" She tried to keep the question casual, but his eyes narrowed a fraction in response.

Then the expression disappeared and he shrugged. "Like you, I was lookin’ f’ de Professor. Don’ look like he’s here t’ough."

His answer reassured her somewhat and Lilandra voiced a sigh. "No, it doesn’t. Have you heard anything at all?"

Gambit shook his head. "I haven’ been back here since before de last time I saw you. I was hopin’ he’d come back in de meantime."

"So now what are you going to do? Wait for the X-Men to return?"

She wasn’t sure if what flashed through his eyes was pain or terror, but then the expression was gone, replaced by a wall of indifference. He smiled thinly. "No t’anks. I’d rather go lookin’ f’r him on m’ own."

She considered him for a long moment. The angular features were still, giving nothing away, but she sensed an underlying urgency that matched her own growing concern. Charles had given himself over into government authority of his own volition, but the lack of news of his wellbeing, even his location, were disquieting. In short, though she knew Charles was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, she was worried about him, and in a small corner of her mind, she secretly feared that she might never see him again. It was the urging of that small fear that decided her.

"My cruiser is in orbit," she suggested. "The scanners may be able to locate him."

Gambit cocked his head thoughtfully. "What about de X-Men?"

Lilandra pursed her lips. "Their help would be appreciated, but they aren’t here, and I am not inclined to wait around for them to return."

Gambit flashed her a shadow of his usual smile. "Den I guess I’m ready when you are."

Logan stared down at Rogue with a sense of overwhelming loss. Not because of Remy, really. He’d been a friend, true, but Logan had lost enough of those over the years to have learned to accept it. No, the pain in his heart was because of Rogue. None of the X-Men were perfect, but they had always been family. To discover that one X-Man had killed another was like hearing a death knell for the dream that had once held them all together. If Xavier had been there, he thought, he would have broken down in tears to see what had become of them.

Logan turned to look at Ororo. Her eyes were still glazed with shock, and Logan chalked up another tear in the fabric that held the X-Men together. Without Cyclops or the Professor, Storm was the only team leader they had. She and Gambit had been close, though. Close enough that his death might very well debilitate her, and that was the last thing the X-Men could afford.

The others were all wearing similar expressions of surprise, save for Cecilia, who only had a puzzled frown on her face. Marrow was smiling, the tap-tap-tap as she rapped her fingertips on the bone spike in her hand the only sound in the unearthly stillness.

A moment’s premonition was all the warning Logan had. He dove forward, grabbing Rogue around the waist and dragging her out of the way as lightning speared down out of the sky. The jagged branch of energy struck Erik’s shield, flaring as before, and Logan felt a wave of consternation. He’d reacted as if he expected Storm to attack Rogue rather than their enemy.

A second lightning bolt followed the first, then a third and a fourth, raining down on Erik the Red with all of the fury Mother Earth possessed. Erik was driven to his knees by the assault, his shield glowing and crackling. Inside the glowing sphere, Erik raised one hand toward Storm. Immediately, walls of ice rose between them as Iceman reacted to protect Storm, but were shattered as a spear of crackling energy arced toward her from the sphere around Erik. Storm leapt away, buoyed by a sudden gust, and the bolt of energy passed her harmlessly.

Cannonball was already in the air, his contrail burning as he banked sharply and dove toward Erik. Logan moved back a few paces to give the younger man some room. Rogue moved quietly with him, and he spared her a concerned glance.

"Ah never wanted ta hurt him," she said softly. "Ya have ta believe that."

"We’ll sort it out later, darlin’," he answered gruffly and began to move away from her. He was hoping for a chance at Erik once Cannonball had knocked him around enough to bring that shield down.

True to his name, Cannonball plowed into Erik at full speed, driving both of them into the ground with explosive force. Hot dirt rained down around them, burning where it touched exposed skin. Logan ignored the minor pain as darted forward. Before he could reach the newly formed crater, Cannonball was thrown bodily away as Erik surged to his feet. Anger darkened the partially obscured features, and the glowing field that surrounded him burned undimmed.

"Enough of this!" Erik’s voice crackled with an authority that took Logan by surprise. It was the tone of a man accustomed to being obeyed instantly and completely. "I do not have time for your foolishness, X-Men."

Erik made a gesture, and another door opened in the air, this time behind him. A blinding white bolt of lightning struck his shield with enough force to stagger him, but it only served to shove him backwards into his portal. The demon creature leapt after him, disappearing into the dark rectangle, which collapsed as soon as the tip of its tail had cleared the doorway.

Silence descended as the howling wind died to a whisper. The low-bellied storm clouds gave off a few fitful bursts of cold rain, but did not release the anger pent within their roiling depths.

Logan surveyed the X-Men with concern. Psylocke was on her feet, supported by Cecilia Reyes. Cannonball was up as well, looking a bit battered but essentially undamaged as he dusted himself off. Marrow prowled the area where Erik has so recently stood, her sidelong gaze at the others full of contempt. The rest of them, himself included, Logan thought, looked like they were in shock. He had that nightmare feeling, as if this were only a dream from which he would wake if he waited long enough.

Storm’s face was set in hard, regal lines. Logan recognized the expression and watched warily as she slowly crossed to where Rogue waited, eyes downcast. Storm stopped in front of the younger woman, her blue eyes filled with ice as she studied her.

"You have much to explain," Storm stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

En Sabah Nur stared at the man he had adopted as a son, his surprise and anger hidden behind an impassive mask. Angel returned his stare, defiant but wary, which, En Sabah thought, was appropriate for a prince of the empire that would one day encompass the planet and all of mutantkind.

"The Healer is a guest in my house," he told his son firmly. "It was inappropriate for you to attack her in such a manner."

Angel nodded sharply, the expression in his pale eyes undimmed. His wings rustled softly, echoing his sentiments.

En Sabah watched him for a few moments, uncertain how much defiance lingered on in Angel’s mind. Nightengale would not be able to defend herself for a while yet. He decided that he would be prudent to push the issue a little farther, just to make certain Angel would not be tempted to do something rash.

"By the law of my people, it is appropriate for a child to make restitution for the acts of the father." He watched Angel closely for his reaction, and received nothing but an unchanging stare. "However, if that is your choice, you will find a means to satisfy the requirement without killing her."

Angel cocked his head, the motion swift and reminiscent of a bird. "She deserves to die."

"Perhaps."

Angel’s jaw tightened. "She is an abomination."

En Sabah raised an eyebrow at that assessment. It was not what he had expected.

"How so?" He found the label oddly distressing. In his own mind, the name Abomination was reserved for those who went against the natural order of evolution. For humans who sought to make mutants into a race of slaves, and for those mutants who aided them.

Angel turned, pacing a short track in front of En Sabah. He was obviously trying to put his thoughts into a coherent order, so En Sabah waited patiently until he finally came to a stop and turned to face him.

"You should have told me about Gambit," he said, his voice calm in contrast to the expression in his eyes. "When you gave me my biometallic wings-you should have told me."

"So that you could kill him?"

"Yes."

En Sabah shifted his weight slightly, searching for a more comfortable stance. He hated the disease that left him weak and in constant, though minimal, pain. "That would have been a waste of a powerful mutation."

"At least it would have kept him out of the X-Men." Angel flicked his wings, resettling them around himself with a rustling sigh. The dark feathers glinted in the bright lights of the laboratory, their sheen denoting their renewed health.

"Why does that matter to you?"

Angel’s eyes jumped to his, filled with reproach. "They may be soft and misguided, Father, but I still care about them."

En Sabah nodded in acknowledgment. He was often surprised how deep the ties of loyalty and affection ran within the X-Men. Overcoming those had been the last step in reclaiming the son of his heart, his Angel of Death.

Angel’s expression turned accusing. "You should never have let him live. He helped to murder his own kind-at Sinister’s request. And then, with mutant blood on his hands... with my blood on his hands, he had the gall to call himself an X-Man." Angel began to pace again in agitation. "He lived with us, he ate with us, he fought with us-- He insinuated himself into the team, seduced us into believing he was a friend. And to think that Rogue allowed him to-!" He bit off the remainder of his sentence and paused, regaining his composure, then continued in a more normal voice. "Just by his presence Gambit has defiled the X-Men and she," he pointed toward the room where Nightengale lay, "is the consequence. You should never have allowed it to happen."

En Sabah frowned as his thoughts were cast involuntarily back in time-five thousand years-to the one person who had filled him with the same passionate mix of anger and betrayal that he saw reflected in Angel’s eyes. Her name was Nephri, and as a young man unaware of his mutant heritage, En Sabah had once loved her.

Angel’s hatred, he realized, was not about revenge so much as denial of his own culpability. En Sabah sympathized with his anger and disgust for the blind weakness the X-Men fostered, but the target of his hatred was a matter of extreme inconvenience.

He met Angel’s eyes. "Revenge is your right, my son. Kill Gambit if you wish, but Nightengale is valuable to me."

Angel nodded again, and this time En Sabah was confident that they had reached an understanding. The Healer might very well suffer for her unfortunate lineage, but that would only serve to make her stronger.

The thought was oddly appealing, and En Sabah mulled on it long after Angel had gone.