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New Orleans



“Easy, chere. If ya would be so kind as t’ be puttin’ Remy back on da ground, we could get dis settled, non?” Gambit glanced uneasily from the ground below him to the woman holding him, her eyes flashing.
“I mean it, Remy. Start talking.” Ororo settled them gently on the sidewalk.
“Oui, but not ‘ere. We ‘ave to go. Dey know we’re ‘ere.” Gambit grabbed her hand and pulled her through the reemerging crowd. Takes more than a little freak thunder storm to ruin Mardi Gras, he thought pushing past several tourists with none too gentle force.
“Gambit, slow down.” Ororo yanked her hand free of his. He turned and gave her a desperate look. “Whatever is troubling you we can face it together,” she said, her voice calming as an ocean breeze. “Just talk to me, my brother.” Her face showed the depth of her concern.
Gambit reached out and touched her cheek. “Ah, padnat, I am far removed from ‘avin’ brotherly t’oughts ’bout you. And for what it’s worth, I am terrible sorry that I dragged you into dis.” He took a quick look around. No one yet- maybe they hadn’t been seen…
“Into what, Remy. I still do not understand. What are you so afraid of?”
“No time, Stormy. We have to move.” He took off his sunglasses and looked her straight in the eyes. “Trust me.”
No hesitation from her. “Always, my friend.”
Gambit’s insides turned at her unconditional trust and friendship. She had readily come to his aid, without knowing the full circumstances of what he was involved in. All Ororo had needed to know was that her friend was in trouble and he needed her help. The rest was inconsequential. Gambit knew he was not worthy of such loyalty. What he had almost done was eating away at him, and he needed to get them out of there before it was too late. “Let’s move!”
A dark figure stepped out of the alley directly in front of them, cloak billowing around its feet. “Lebeau.”
“Sorry, mon ami, but you ‘ave the wrong man.” Gambit stepped in front of Storm, hoping she would take a hint and stay behind him. “’xcuse us.”
“I am afraid I must insist that you and your companion accompany me. My party is anxiously awaiting your arrival.” The dark figure continued as though Gambit had not spoken. “I will be your escort.”
Something in the dark figure’s voice turned Ororo’s blood to ice. It was deep and velvety, eerily soothing yet utterly terrifying at the same time. She noticed that the air had gone stale, the wind dying down to nothing. She sent a mental call for the winds, but nothing moved, not even the slightest breeze.
“…Gambit…”
At the sound of her voice the cloaked figure’s head shifted slightly. There was a lengthy pause before the voice commanded once more that they accompany him. Deciding it best not to risk an outdoor fight in such a populated area Storm nudged Gambit between the shoulders. He refused to budge. “Remy, we can not risk a fight here,” she whispered. “We go.”
“A wise choice,” the figure murmured, sending a fresh batch of chills up her spine. With a soft swoosh of his cloak the figure turned and lead the way down the crowded sidewalk, never once having to tell anyone to move, or step aside, they simply parted before him.
After what felt like only moments they found themselves in front of a large plantation style home. Old shutters banged against the sides of the house, peeling the faded paint. A wrought iron gate cried in protest against its hinges, swinging back and forth, eerily in the absence of a breeze. Looking over her shoulder Storm realized they were well outside the city. She was confused having traveled such a great distance in just a few moments, but not so confused as to miss the opportunity to stop and face the cloaked figure.
“This is far enough, stranger. We go no farther until you give me some answers.” Her voice crackled with authority.
“Did our friend not already tell you? Tsk, tsk, Lebeau.”
Gambit stepped forward, red on black eyes blazing. “I’ve changed my mind. Deal’s off.” He grabbed Storm’s hand, squeezing to the point of pain. There was something desperate in his grip. Gambit was afraid, Storm realized. Very afraid.
“You gave your word. You can not take away what was promised. We made a deal, signed in blood.” The cloaked figures voice dropped an octave causing every hair on Ororo’s body to rise. “We will have what was promised to us.” The voice was almost a hiss now.
“I said no.” Gambit pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket. The threat was clear. For a mutant who can charge objects with kinetic energy a deck of cards could be a valuable and powerful weapon. However in this case they appeared useless as with a wave of his hand the dark figure sent Gambit to his knees, clutching his chest.
“Run…Stor..my…”
“Enough!” Storm knelt beside Gambit, her hands searching for injury. He groaned, face turning white, then purple. “Stop!” She felt fear welling up inside.
“You can save him.” The cloaked man whispered. “Just give us what he owes.”
“N-n-n-no,” Gambit struggled to breathe. His body began to convulse.
Storm rose, her voice clear as a crystal lake, and just as pure. “Enough, stranger! Whatever he promised you, you shall have!”
“Your word,” the figure demanded.
“You have my word.” At once the convulsions left Gambit’s body.
“Padnat, no!” He tried to rise. Ororo reached down, placing a restraining arm on his shoulders.
“Easy, Remy. All will be well.” She glared at the dark figure, eyes blazing. ”What is it that he owes. What is it that he promised?” she demanded.
“You, witch! He promised us you!” The snarl came from behind and Storm could feel her composure leaving. Hot, moist breath fanned her neck.
“Creed…”





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