Just don't think 'bout it, put it outta your mind. You ain't gonna do no one no good if you caught...
Don't think 'bout that look in her eyes as she hollered at you to git.
He struggled to keep breathing as he jumped, coat fanning out behind him as he cleared the space between the two rooftops. He had to keep moving. And he couldn't use the sewers no more-- no sewers, no subway tunnels, not even the woods. If the sun didn't touch it, he couldn't go there.
Heart o' stone....heart o' stone...
He couldn't allow himself to feel right then. Couldn't let himself think on that he'd been forced to leave Rogue, knowin' what could become of her-- knowin' that next time he saw her she'd be a face with a demon lookin' out them green eyes.
And he especially couldn't think on who was chasing him.
Both of 'em lost now.
It started raining as the thick black clouds rolled in. He could feel Stormy in that cold wind. She was toying with him like a cat who caught herself a mouse. The rules had all changed. Was a time when a mutant who got turned into one of them didn't keep their powers. But now this new kind of monster-- the ones with powers-- they was just twisted version of the mutants they used to be, including their powers.
He dove over the side of the building, charging the end of his staff for a little extra boost as he bounced from wall to wall, finally running across a cable to land on a pizza parlor.
No use tryin' to fight one on one, and not...
Lord, he couldn't face her.
It was just too much.
Gambit reached the ground. The rain soaking him to the bone as he huddled against a dumpster trying to catch his breath. He'd sent the call for help well before it happened but had no idea if it got through. He longed for a smoke to steady his shaking hands. Longed for the taste-- the rush. It would have to wait. He could see in the sky that Stormy weren't too far behind.
I ain't gonna make it.
He cursed himself for even thinking that. He had to make it. Had to make it until Bleu came and fetched him. Rogue deserved that much.
Remy scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to catch his second wind. Or fifth wind. It'd been two days since he had any sleep, and ...and it was eatin' him alive, knowin' what he had to do. To leave Rogue there. With Summers.
Because he weren't Cyclops. Not anymore.
Maybe... maybe Rogue's power would make it impossible for them to infect her.
He squeezed the collection of symbols that hung from leather strapping from his neck: a gris-gris, a crucifix, and anything else he could think of or get his hands on. Weren't nothing like this new world – Hell on Earth -- to reaffirm a body's faith in the Here After.
No time to mourn, not now.
Had to run.
Had to get back. Report in.
“I am jus' too damn old for this...” Remy sank into a crouch, before letting out a healthy stream of profanity in patois as he turned on his boot heels and slammed his fist into the side of the dumpster. Then again and again... until his knuckles dripped blood, and he was wide eyed and gasping.
Shadows moved. Shadows moved in away they shouldn't.
He dug his bleeding hand into his coat pocket, spreading the cards between his torn knuckles as he pulled them out, pushing himself up in one fluid motion. “Olly, Olly Oxen free,” he called, forcing that casual grin to his face. “Ya'll wantin' to be havin' a bit a fun? I'm game. Gambit always game.”
“I enjoy games, Remy,” a voice like silk charged with electricity seem to come from everywhere at once. “But there's no need for old friends to fight. I've missed you.”
Heart o' stone...don't feel nothin'...
More than one shadow was movin'. She'd brought soldiers.
“Well, I am flattered, Stormy.” Gambit said, really wishing for that cigarette now. “You brought all these folks out here jus' to fetch little ol' me.”
“I've known you too long to underestimate you, my friend.”
He couldn't see her-- couldn't see nothin'. He just caught movement out the corner of his eyes.
“Any chance we can be reasonable? For ol' times sake?” he kept talking, eyes scanning the alley as he tried to focus in on anything...anyone.
People used to say he had the Devil's own luck.
It seemed the Devil changed his mind about that as the first blow caught him in the gut, sending him slamming against the brick. Gambit caught his weight with his foot and kicked off the wall, flipping over his attacker – some black armored vampire drone – and landed hard. Flicking his wrist at the same time, he sent a spray of glowing playing cards toward the bloodsucker. The sucker was fast, but not fast enough. Three of the cards caught the thing in the face-mask...
The blast took its head clean off, and Gambit ducked to avoid the hot foul smelling ash as the vampire disintegrated. But his victory was short lived-- he could see at least a half-dozen of the monsters. And then, from the darkness above, came what was left of Ororo Munroe-- his Stormy-- looking as regal as he ever remembered.
Gambit didn't even have time to react before arms wrapped around him and -- BAMF!
They were gone.