Diamonds Etched in Blood: Parts 12-13

by Galaxia Alpha


You・re all going to want to kill me by the time you finish reading this part (and a very long part it is), but rest assured, there is a sequel!!! There is a short story that takes place immediately after this story called "Tears at the Crossroads", and after that there is a major multi-chapter story that I am working on that continues the arc. It・s not finished yet (please don・t hurt me!), but I・m working on it. So there is more to come. This isn・t the end, nope, don・t worry・ you・re not getting off that easily・ <maniacal laughter ensues>

Love always,

Galaxia

 

Part 12, Interlude 3

The room was medium-sized, and adorned in a way that should have made it appear comfortable. But it didn・t. Instead there was a heavy oppressiveness to the air, a steely coldness that clung to the furniture and sent shudders through the tension in the musty atmosphere. There wasn・t the warmness and homeliness that came with the occupation of a comfortable inhabitant. No signs that this room was a part of someone・s life. Only the empty furniture that pretended to be components of a normal bedroom. A guise that fell to pieces with the heavy ominous air that hung in the room.

The bodies on the floor did not help.

Neither did the stark pale man that stood over them with the strange costume and terrifying face that bore red eyes and a diamond colored onto his forehead.

Sinister looked down at Gambit where he had dropped to the floor. The young man had fallen face first, collapsing as Sinister sent the command to the nano-controllers in his body to made him loose consciousness.

The expression on Sinister・s pale, frightening face was curious, reminiscent of a scientist examining a specimen・but then, that was what Gambit was to him, an object to study and catalog. Though, he must admit, this was a rather special object. Not many mutants had such valuable genetic material, such power. Lucky for him, this scientific marvel was now in his hands with no hope of escape.

There had been flaws in Sinister・s plan to capture the X-Men, of course. There were always flaws. But the key was making them as subtle as possible and making them unlikely to be acted upon. Apparently, he had succeeded in that・but then, was that really a surprise? He was superior to the X-Men. Of course he would survive over them, of course he would win.

His crimson, burning eyes grazed over the floor, taking in the crumpled figures. All of them would make wonderful specimens to study. It was a shame that some of the others had been damaged by the effects of the nano-controllers, such as Storm and Archangel. No matter. He had the rest of the X-Men to make up for it and the added bonus of having some of his greatest enemies and opponents eliminated. Not too bad for a day・s work.

And then the frightening smirk slithered across his face, the dark cold lips turning upwards, and he felt the full elation of his victory. The bright light of the room glinted off the rich color of his eyes and accentuated the bright diamond on his forehead.

Knowledge was power. It was greatness. It was life. It was omniscience. And it was now his.

Part 13

[He is in a theatre, one that is full of people, smiling and clapping at the performing dancers on stage. The place is alive and he revels in that feeling of life. Or tries to anyway. Next to him sits a pretty brunette. Her brown eyes are wide and laughing, watching the stage and enjoying the show. He glances at her sideways and grins at her. She catches the glance and smiles back. A look is shared, which means nothing to him but everything to her. He is simply going through the moves, his heart empty at the death of his wife, Belladonna. But he is trying, trying to get past the cold hole that sits in his chest, trying to learn to live again.

He turns his attention back to the figures on stage. The place is like the Seattle version of Radio City Music Hall, can-can dancers jumping to upbeat, fast music. They・re wearing short silver dresses that sparkle in the light. He wonders absently if all the glitter on them would hurt his eyes were he not wearing dark sunglasses to hide them.

It starts as a burn in his chest that slowly trickles down his arms and legs. It・s the kind of sensation he experiences when using his mutant ability to charge objects with kinetic energy, only he・s not using his mutant powers right now・or not trying to anyway. But he sees his hands start to glow with energy, feels the burning sensation growing throughout his body to a strength he・s never experienced before. And no matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can・t stop the power from growing within him.

He tries to hold the energy in check and succeeds for a short while, the only outward sign of his distress the uncomfortable look on his face and the slight luminescence of his fingers. He lasts about a minute before he feels as if something has snapped within him, and then he can・t contain it anymore. Power, power unlike anything he・s ever felt before is flowing out of him, charging up the chairs, the floor... the people.

He tries to yell a warning but it is too late. His mutant ability is already out of control and he doesn・t know what to do. He・s never experienced this before.

There are screams of pain around him and he realizes in horror that his power is no longer restricted to inanimate objects. There is panic everywhere now, yells and curses, cries of agony. He wants to make it stop, wishes it were all a bad dream. If he pinches himself he・ll wake up in a nice cozy bed. He almost convinces himself that this isn・t true・that this is all a nightmare, and reaches down with two glowing fingers to squeeze the skin on his arm with them. Nothing happens. It・s all real.

He doesn・t even need to touch things to blow them up. He sees the stage ahead of him explode simply as a result of him looking at it. Squeezing his eyes shut he tries to make it all go away, pretend it・s not real... but he can feel their pain. He can feel them! He・s always had low-level empathy, but never like this. Suddenly he experiences the emotions of those around him as if they were his own, and he screams out in the pain of a theatre full of tortured people.

And then, it all begins to end. The power that radiates out of him seeps away and suddenly he is back to normal. Normal being relative of course・he will always be different, always be a mutant. He looks around. There are people lying on the floor, dead or dying. And his date... he almost vomits at the sight of her and runs out of the theater retching in horror. What has he done...? What has he done...?]

Remy opened his eyes slowly, shaking away the nightmares, the memories of times better left forgotten. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying on the floor, a cold, hard floor that felt suspiciously like metal. Lifting his cheek gently, he cautiously looked around... and immediately put his head back down with a moan, shutting his eyes.

He was in Sinister・s lab.

Building up courage, Remy lifted his head again and slowly began to sit up. He was in some kind of glass chamber, startlingly reminiscent of a giant test tube that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. There was some moving room, not enough to be truly comfortable, but enough to stretch out and lay down.

If he could charge the glass that enclosed him maybe he could get out of here. He still had his powers; he couldn・t explain how, but he could feel them. Reaching out carefully, he touched one glass wall... and jumped back suddenly as a force field appeared and gave him a brief shock. Oh, this was just great. If he couldn・t touch the wall he couldn・t charge it. Briefly he reflected that it hadn・t always been that way, but he・d made the decision long ago and there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked around, taking in the area surrounding his clear prison. The other X-Men were in glass cages similar to his own, arranged in a semi-circle along one edge of the large square room. They all appeared to be unconscious.

The actual walls, ceiling, and floor of the room were a silver metal, and consoles of computers shot up from the ground in front of each glass tube. Wires ran through holes in the ceiling, multi-colored and hopelessly tangled, reaching into contraptions hooked to the base of each of the X-Men・s prisons. It all looked like something out of a really bad sci-fi movie. And Remy was stuck in the middle of it.

His red eyes searched for any sign of their captor. There was none. The room was empty save for its prisoners, and lacked any clue as to when Sinister would return.

His gaze darted to the middle of the room... and froze. In the center of the semi-circle made by the glass prisons that housed the X-Men was a long metal bed, a twisted parody of some kind of medieval torture device whose adamantium-laced straps hung limply off of it. He didn・t need anyone to tell him its purpose, he knew in the sinking feeling in his gut, in the sudden tightness of his throat. It was a dissection table.

And then he was frantically searching his teammates, counting them and making sure none were missing. Doing a cursory examination with his eyes to be positive none had already fallen victim to any of Sinsiter・s sick tests. But then, they were all victims already, were they not? The nano-probes running through their bodies were testament enough for that.

Remy found nothing out of the ordinary, or at least nothing that he could see, and let out a breath of air that he hadn・t noticed he・d been holding. Having already checked all the others, he turned his attention on himself, assessing the damage to his own body. Overall, he felt horrible, but that was as much due to the clenching fear that was dully screaming in his core as to any physical ailment. Specifically, he had a headache, his thigh was throbbing from where Sarah had stabbed it (yesterday?) in their fight, and his nose felt sort of sore, like maybe he had fallen on it. Oh yeah, and then there was the burning pain in his chest that was no doubt a consequence of the giant ball of energy Sinister had hit him with while capturing him. He felt horrible, but he could deal with it.

Tiredly, Remy rubbed his hands over his face. He vaguely remembered the dream・the flashback?・and tried to push the thoughts away. He was unsuccessful. He was also starting to get worried. It was strange that such a memory would come back to him, such a memory of a time when he had lost control of his powers, when he had recently had a similar experience, though less destructive, as a result of Joseph trying to neutralize the nanos. Coincidence? Stress and fear? Or... a warning dug up from deep within his subconscious?

Standing required some effort, but Remy managed it. His glass cell was towards the middle of the semi-circle; Rogue Joseph and Iceman were to one side while Wolverine and Psylocke were to the other. Lifting his head, Remy saw the outline of a door in the wall opposite him. There was no knob, but there was a digital lock embedded in the wall next to it, a tiny computer that would open the entryway when the right numbers were entered into its keypad. Considering for a moment, Remy decided that he could probably break the lock if he had the proper tools. But he didn・t have the proper tools. And even if he did, the glass tube he was in was seamless and was protected by a force field. He wouldn・t even be able to get to the lock at all.

There was the swishing sound of hydraulics pumps and then the door was suddenly open. In the gaping hole left behind stood an imposing figure. It was Sinister.

Remy watched the pale monster enter with hard eyes, with a gaze like steel that reflected none of the fear he felt inside. Jaw working silently, he fought down the wave of memories and feelings that came as a result of seeing Sinister. It wasn・t that the geneticist had spent such an incredibly long time as a part of Remy・s life rather than the fact that the role he had played had been so important in it. No matter how hard he tried, Remy would never forget what had happened.

By now Sinister had walked all the way into the room and the door from which he had entered was shut behind him. The bright sterile lights shone down, reflecting off the crimson eyes under the shadow of Sinister・s brow, reflecting in just the same way as Remy remembered from years ago...

[The eyes are frightening, blood red and striking in the pale face that can barely be made out in the wan light of the street lamp. And somehow, those strange eyes manage to glint slightly, flashing in the dark night. But the color isn・t the most frightening thing about them. It is the fact that they are so similar to his own.

He is out of breath, both from the running and fear. The theater where his powers had suddenly gone crazy was left behind hours ago, but he had continued moving, trying for all he was worth to run away from the echo of the screams in his head, to escape the gruesome images. He had failed at that.

And now there is this strange man standing in front of him, with the white skin only the dead share, and red eyes and a crimson diamond etched on his forehead. He stares at this shape that he has seen on so many playing cards, somehow entranced by it. What does it mean? Who is this man? Why has he stopped him?

The alleyway is dark and deserted, save for the rats and other vermin. He had run here knowing that he would end up in the most decrepit, dilapidated part of the city. It somehow made him feel more comfortable, more at home to be among the poor and homeless. Now, with this strange man standing before him, he wonders if that had been such a good idea.

"What do y・ wan・?" he manages between tight lips.

The pale man does not answer. Simply stares with those frightening eyes and smiles. Smirks with dark, sick lips and stares with a crazy glint in his red eyes...]

Remy followed Sinister・s movements with a steady gaze, shaking the memories from his head. The man was a frightening figure in his black costume that was all jagged lines, hard edges, and spikes. But Remy guessed he knew that already. Sinister was no fool. He never was, never had been.

The geneticist barely spared Remy a glance, but rather focused on the computer console that stood in front of Remy・s containment cell. Sinister reached it, long, pale fingers dancing across the keys.

"What ・re y・ doin・?" Remy questioned urgently.

Sinister didn・t answer. But then, he never did when it was important.

Remy stood stiffly, mind racing to figure out some plan, some course of action he could take to improve his position. He came up with nothing.

And then he shivered. And it wasn・t because of fear. He genuinely felt cold and he looked around his prison searching for the source of the frigid air. There was no cause to be seen, but it felt as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.

He looked up at Sinister who was now staring at him. "What did y・ do?" Remy demanded forcefully, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

This time Sinister merely smirked.

After a moment, he resumed pushing buttons, and it was with a sense of foreboding that Remy watched him and wondered what he would do next. It was only a moment before he found out. Suddenly, Remy・s legs gave out beneath him, the muscles relaxing utterly and completely under no command from his brain. He fell, banging his knees loudly on the metal floor of his cage, sick with shock and apprehension as he realized his body was no longer his.

"What do y・ wan・?" he croaked weakly from the floor, eyes still managing to exhibit defiance.

Sinister seemed to pause for a moment and then displayed an absolutely chilling smile. "Why, you, of course."

["What do y・ wan・?!" he demands again, raising his voice more loudly.

There is another second of silence, and then he decides he has had enough. Using his slight power of empathy, which has returned to its normal strength, he plants the emotional force necessary into the other man to get an answer.

The pale man merely smiles and actually chuckles slightly.

Maybe he had been better off at the theatre. This stranger is getting scarier by the moment. "I said: What. Do. Y・. Wan・? I ain・t in no mood f・r games." He pushes every ounce of strength and courage he has left into his voice. Finally he gets results.

"Why, you, of course."

He suddenly feels chills sliding up and down his spine at the voice like frozen stone and the words it utters. But he・s met scum like this before. He・s fought some enemies who were quite imposing. And has won.

"Too bad f・r y・. I ain・t f・r sale." He pulls out a few cards from the deck sitting securely in his pant・s pocket, charging them and throwing them at his adversary. A pink streak of light is momentarily left in the air, trailing the cards and he watches as they are just about to strike the pale man. And then something truly amazing happens. The man・s body... bends, as if it were no more than a piece of clay. A hole forms in his chest and widens to allow the cards to pass through without actually hitting him, and then closes again. When the process is done he looks just like he did before it all happened.

So Remy・s cards are ineffective. He doesn・t pause to contemplate this, simply decides that he will have to do this the old fashion way. Aiming a high kick at the man, he reaches down to pick up a long plank of wood that is sitting in the alley with the same movement. Twirling around he settles it in his hands, balancing the weight, and positioning it like a staff, his favorite weapon besides his cards. Before the man has time to regroup he is on him, arms, legs, wood, all working together in a beautifully mastered dance. A dangerous dance. A deadly dance.

When it is over, the man lies on the floor, body covered in injuries.

And then as he watches, every cut, every bruise, every broken bone, heals itself and suddenly the man is back to normal, recovered completely as if nothing has happened.

His heavy breath almost catches in his throat as he watches the pale man rise from the floor and casually dust himself off. "Who are y・?" he whispers in shock.

"I am called... Mr. Sinister."]

Remy heard a rustle beside him and looked to Rogue・s glass prison to see her slowly rolling over into awareness. She blinked her eyes and pulled herself onto her knees and then began to look around, observing her surroundings. He watched the looks of horror play across her features. Her eyes lingered a moment on the dissection table and then came to rest on him.

"Remy?" she questioned.

"Yah, chere. I・m still here." He tried to sound somewhat comforting, though he imagined that he had probably failed at that. He was still effectively paralyzed from the waist down thanks to Sinister.

"What happened?" She still seemed a bit groggy, and was now staring at Sinister, who returned her gaze steadily.

Remy knew the question was meant for him but Sinister answered first. "You are my prisoners. My specimens to study."

Rogue winced at his choice of words. Visibly. "Oh." she mumbled to herself.

"Y・ okay, Rogue?" Remy turned to look at her, sitting on her knees on the floor.

"Ah guess so, sugah. As good as can be expected." She turned critical eyes on him. She must have noticed the pained expression on his face. "How ・bout you? Are you okay?"

"Not really," he replied, not offering any further information.

"What・s wrong?" she prodded, green eyes wide and worried.

Remy didn・t answer, just kept his steely gaze on Sinister who was completely ignoring him. The pale fingers flew across the keys once again and suddenly Remy shot up to his feet, an action he had been straining to do for some time now but had just regained the ability for. His legs tingled slightly, as if they had fallen asleep, but other then that he felt normal.

"You・re nano-controllers are in perfect working order," Sinister said simply, and then left to console in front of Remy... to go to the one in front of Rogue.

Rogue watched with apprehension as the pale figure came to rest in front of her prison, and began to concentrate on her computer. An ominous clicking filtered through the air, the sound of Sinister・s fingers against the keypad the only noise in the suddenly silent room. Remy felt the knot of fear tighten.

And then Rogue was screaming in pain, her hands desperately clutching her head in the waves of her torment.

"ROGUE!" Remy yelled. "Noooooooooooo!" Without thinking, he threw himself at the glass walls of his prison, pure emotion driving him to try to get closer to her, to try to save her from Sinister・s clutches. He was met with his own helping of intense agony as the force field met him and hopelessly scrambled his nerves. Convulsing briefly, Remy hit the ground with a loud ・thud・, and then his abused and tortured brain retreated into darkness.

[He almost laughs at the name. Mr. Sinister? Only he can・t laugh past the cold ball of fear churning within him. He stares at the man in the dim lights of the street, noticing for the first time the strange attire the other has on. It is some kind of form fitting, black suit with a cape of jagged strips of fabric. Very strange, and very frightening.

He knows he can・t fight this guy. He still doesn・t understand how he suddenly recovered from all his injuries or how he changed the shape of his body to allow the cards to pass through. The only explanation he can find is that the man is a mutant. A mutant too strong to fight. So he decides to dig for information, to talk. It is something he is rather good at.

"What do y・ wan・ wit・ me?"

"You have skills. I have use of them," the pale man answers simply.

His eyes narrow. "What kind o・ skills?"

"You are arguably the best thief in the world, or at least ranked among the top three, with a special talent for collecting information. You have... interesting mutant abilities and fighting skills to match. You also have connections that can get the job I have for you done."

So this was a business proposition. He knew business. He could deal with this. "An・ what exactly is de ・job・?"

"I want you to collect a group of mercenaries to act as a strike force. The meanest, deadliest mercenaries you can possibly find. Discover their whereabouts and work out a deal with them so that they will work for me. It should be an easy task for someone of your abilities."

"That is if I choose t・ accept de job."

"Oh, I think you will." And this Mr. Sinister says it with such confidence, such utter closure that he is taken slightly off-guard. Sinister must have noticed because he gives him a startling smirk.

Forcing his voice to remain steady, he says, "So what will y・ give me in return f・r m・ services?"

Another smile. "I know a lot about you, Mr. LeBeau. I have been watching you for some time. You... intrigue me. I know of your recent incident at that theatre. Your powers manifested themselves to their fullest. You have overwhelming potential, power beyond what you can imagine. I am a scientist. I could study that power, help you to weld it with skill and efficiency."

A scientist. A mad scientist. He is damned if he will be used as some specimen to be experimented on. He catches the hidden meaning in the words, the underlay of insanity. This man wants to stick him under a microscope and dissect him. Doesn・t he understand? He doesn・t want all that extra power. What it had done at the theater... It was horrible and he never wants to experience it again. He feels sick thinking of all the pain and destruction he has just caused. All the innocent lives that have been decimated. The screams... the never-ending haunting screams...

He laughs bitterly. "Sorry. Ain・t interested." And then he turns and begins to walk away.

He hears a sigh behind him. "I had thought you would not accept that proposition. But I have something else to offer. Something I believe you will find quite interesting."]

The world came back into focus slowly, and for a moment he was aware, and yet not at the same time. He knew there was a reality. Knew that he was a living, breathing, human being and was at the same time oblivious to his surrounding, to what living really was. He drifted like that for only a moment before he fully awoke, some deeply imbedded instinct dragging him into awareness urgently.

Blinking, Remy looked around, remembering everything as he did so. Sinister was nowhere to be seen but all the X-Men were now awake, conversing quietly. He took another moment to push away the last veils of grogginess and then made his presence known.

"I miss anyt・ing while I was gone?" he asked, raising his now raspy voice to be heard even by the X-Men farthest from him. He reflected briefly on the fact that it was strange that his voice could be heard through the thick glass and force field. There was probably some speaker system or something responsible for that.

"Nothin・ much. Sinister played around with his nanos a bit more. Nothin・ exciting though. How ya feelin・, bub? I take it we failed in our plan ta take down Sinister." Wolverine was facing him, looking a tad scrubbier than usual, from his prison next to Remy・s.

Remy couldn・t help but feel a brief flare of guilt. He had been the X-Men・s last hope after Sinister had taken out the rest of the team, and he had failed, all because a cough left over by his pneumonia had stopped him from avoiding the ball of energy Sinister had thrown at him. It was rather embarrassing and he decided he was better off not mentioning that little fact to the others.

"Yah. An・ I feel terrible, but I・ll survive. Ain・t nothin・ worse than I・ve experienced before."

Wolverine nodded, understanding exactly what Remy meant. All the X-Men did. They had been through so much, had suffered unbelievably over the years. This was just another tragedy. He tried so hard to make himself believe that, that this was no more significant than anything else they・d experienced. But he failed miserably.

Rogue was looking at him, a concerned expression warping her features. "Ya sure yer okay, sugah? That was a pretty bad shock ya got." He thought he almost heard guilt in her voice, like she blamed herself for his reaction to her distress. For a moment he wished he could sense her with his empathy, but his mutant powers wouldn・t work beyond the barriers that confined him.

"Cajuns, dey made tough. Take more dan a little electricity t・ take us down f・r de count." He tried to grin reassuringly, layering the action with his natural-born charm. It seemed to work and Rogue visibly relaxed, her tense shoulders dropping slightly.

He just hoped she couldn・t see his shaking.

It really hadn・t hurt too much when he had first woken up, but now there was a growing pain spreading like warm needles over and through his body. The sensation finally plateaued at ・just tolerable・ and he did his best to drown it out and to avoid wondering whether this new agony was a result of the shock the force field had given him or a result of something else Sinister had done. And then he realized something. The pain was familiar.

"Excuse me, everybody. But shouldn・t we be worrying about more important things. Like how do we get out of here for example? I dunno. Just a thought." Bobby looked annoyed, the glass and force field skewing his features slightly. But Remy could still see the plain fear revealed on them.

"We need to disarm these force fields somehow. Until we do that we will be unable to free ourselves," Joseph pointed out.

Betsy was frowning. "Yes. Now that we・ve pointed out the obvious, does anybody have any ideas?"

Silence.

Then a few nervous shuffles, Wolverine growling softly, Rogue sighing. Then Bobby scoffed. "That・s just wonderful," he mumbled.

"Well," Rogue began after a moment, "it could be・"

"No!" Bobby interrupted suddenly, "Don・t you dare say ・it could be worse."

The southern bell looked taken aback. "Why not?"

"Because every time somebody says that, it gets worse."

There was a sudden ・swishing・ sound and then the door opened. Sinister entered.

"See? Told you so," Bobby breathed quietly, almost to himself.

The pale geneticist walked briskly over to the computer console in front of Remy・s prison, barely sparing any of them a glance, like they didn・t even exist. It was disconcerting at best. Downright terrifying at worst.

"Hmmm," Sinister mumbled to himself. "Interesting." His dark eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. Remy was tempted to ask what was so ・interesting・, but managed to hold back the question and simply stare at him with a burning-hard gaze.

Finally, Sinister volunteered the information without prompt. He always did seem to enjoy sharing his discoveries out loud. Remy figured it was probably some warped way of gloating.

"Your nanos have been damaged slightly by the force field. There is no severe damage, but they are now down to 90 percent efficiency. Indeed, I will have to make adjustments to the force fields so that they no longer have such an effect. I wouldn・t want you heroic, courageous X-Men getting any ideas of escape. The nanos themselves will still function efficiently and should repair themselves eventually, within a day perhaps."

Damaged nanos. Remy held the thought in his head... held it... held it...

[He stops walking when he hears the next sentence uttered from Sinister・s mouth.

"I know what happened at that theater a few hours ago. Remember the deaths? The pain? How you lost control? I can make it so that such an event will never happen again."

He turns, sees the glint in the scientist・s eyes. A madly prideful glint. But the words hit home and he remembers the death, the burning flesh, the screams radiating through his mind...

"What do y・ mean?"

The smirk is back, settling comfortably on the pale man・s face. He seems to enjoy wearing it, seems to know just how intimidating it can be.

And somewhere, deep beyond the reach of his pride, Remy feels the cold, hard fear grow.

"There is a way to control your excess power, the power that you lost control of back at the theatre. I have created tiny machines called nano-controllers that can hold the torrent of your mutant ability at bay."

Questions fill his mind. "Excess power? De torrent of my mutant ability? What exac・ly happened t・ me back at dat theatre?"

"It is rather simple, actually. Your mutant power finally manifested itself to its fullest." The crimson eyes seemed to say that that fact was blatantly obvious.

Remy still had a hard time accepting it.]

Sinister had walked over to one of the seemingly unused walls of the giant room. The eyes of all the X-Men were watching him, following his movements, assessing him and searching for some weakness. If any of them found one they did nothing to indicate their success.

And then Sinister was pressing a panel on the wall and a whole section slid apart to reveal a monstrosity of a computer. Screens, keyboards, buttons in various colors, all peeked out from their hidden place in the wall, lighting up suddenly and practically screaming for attention. Sinister did not disappoint them.

Pressing a few buttons, he turned slightly to watch as the force fields in every prison suddenly flickered, throwing sparks and static into the air. A moment later and the fields were once again invisible, silent guards that were ever-vigilant in their task.

"What did ya do?" Wolverine snarled, throwing the words at the tall figure across the room.

Sinister turned. "I simply adjusted the force fields to prevent any adverse affect on the nano-controllers."

"Why? Ya scared we・re gonna start throwin・ ourselves at the force fields ta destroy yer precious slave masters?" There was a note of sarcasm in Wolverine・s voice and an unmistakable anger. He wanted more than anything to get a chance at attacking Sinister. He was an animal at the basest level, and he wanted blood.

"I wouldn・t put it beyond you," Sinister answered simply, as he walked back to Remy・s console. "Now, back to you, LeBeau. Where were we... ah yes."

He worked at the computer before Remy for a few moments.

"Give it up, Sinister. Y・ ain・t gonna find anyt・ing, ya ain・t gonna get a chance. You can never win." Remy hoped his words sounded confident, but somehow he imagined they didn・t. But he couldn・t just stand there silently as Sinister pried into every crevice of his body and mind.

"Au contraire. I have already won. And, my dear LeBeau, have no fear. I have already found plenty." His lips turned upward then, in some weird parody of a smile.

[He knows the shock is rather evident on his face, and, this man, Sinister, smiles in a most terrifying manner.

"What do y・ mean, my ・mutant power finally manifested itself to its fullest・?" He feels like an echo, thin and whispy in the suddenly cold night, but it・s all he can manage in his dawning understanding.]

Remy almost shivered in the cold that seemed to permeate in the wake of Sinister・s chilling words. And then he was overcome by waves of hate for this man, this heartless monster who destroyed lives without so much as a thought. Who turned others into killers without caring. He flung a curse at the man, telling him exactly what he could do with himself, and then spat at him. Of course that last part wasn・t particularly effective with the force field and glass in the way, but the gesture was made known.

There was a jagged chuckle and then, "Ah, LeBeau. You always were a bit rebellious, even when you knew it would get you no where. Were you not so valuable to me alive, did I not find you so intriguing, I might be inclined to dissect you and see first-hand exactly what goes on inside of you. Even so I might choose to do so. Don・t test your luck. It seems to me it has run out as of late."

"And what exactly makes Remy so interestin・ ta ya?" Rogue questioned suddenly, her voice sassy, "Is it jus・ because o・ his involvement with the Mutant Massacre?"

"Non, that ain・t it," Remy answered, before realizing he had opened his mouth to speak. Everybody turned to him, including Sinister, expecting him to say more. He didn・t.

After a moment, Sinister took it upon himself to answer the question. "The reason is this: LeBeau is an Omega."

["I mean, that you are a mutant of Omega strength, very rare, and that your powers have just jumped from their Alpha strength to their full Omega status." Sinister seems almost impatient now.

Omega. That is a rarity among rarities. It means that the mutant in question has the ability to affect the whole world with his powers. It means・it means that he has what so many mad villains and power-obsessed mongrels only dream of. And he knows he can・t control it from what he・s seen at the theatre, and therefore it also means the death of all those near him. He immediately knows that he doesn・t want it. Doesn・t want the responsibility. No wonder Sinister wants to study him, to make a deal with him. He wants to control this power, this Omega ability.

He suddenly realizes one thing that doesn・t make sense. "If I・m an Omega mutant, den how come I don・ feel more powerful now?"

"Because at the moment you are not experiencing Omega class abilities. Your body was simply testing them out at the theatre. The mutant power manifested and then retreated because of the shock it caused you. But it will be back, in short spurts at first, and eventually permanently. There is no way to stop it, unless you have my help."

"I don・ need your help. An・ I ain・t gonna let y・ stick some crazy machines in me ・cause y・ say it gonna make me normal again. I didn・ become one o・ de most respected in m・ business by bein・ stupid." He doesn・t want this Omega thing, doesn・t want to deal with it. He couldn・t control it last time, how would he be able to next time? But he also doesn・t want to be involved with this man. Sinister is bad; he can feel it.

"And what exactly is your business, LeBeau? Not taking responsibility for your abilities? Destroying public property? Killing innocent bystanders whose only crime is enjoying a night out?" That smirk is back.

Remy feels the fresh pain of all the injured screaming for help resurface in his mind. The helplessness of being unable to do anything about it, of knowing it is his fault...

And then he walks away, leaving the pale, red-eyed man without so much as a word. His mannerism gives his answer. No. Because whatever trouble these increased powers may cause, he knows that working with Mr. Sinister will be worse.]

Shocked expressions and surprise adorned the faces of the room・s occupants. All except Sinister and Remy. Red eyes met red eyes in a war of will, both refusing to relent, to give up dominance to the other. Remy was shaking from pain, a pain that he thought he should recognize though couldn・t place, but still he refused to give in. Sinister could tell his whole life story to these people if he wanted, but try as he might, he would never, never, break him. He had manipulated him once before. Never again.

Sinister・s voice was mocking. "What・s the matter, X-Man. Did you not inform your teammates of your true nature? Did you fail to let them know the pain you caused?"

"I ain・t an X-Man," Remy replied, very quietly.

"Really?" Sinister・s dark eyebrows rose slightly in disbelief and sarcasm. He glanced at the other X-Men and then back at Remy as if to ask, ・if you aren・t an X-Man than what are you doing here with them?・

"An・ dere ain・t no reason f・r dem t・ know what happened in de past ・tween us. It been done. I made my choice t・ deal wit・ y・ an・ I suffered de consequences."

"You did, indeed," Sinister replied.

"How can Gambit be an Omega mutant? He・s never exhibited such extreme power before," Betsy spoke up, interrupting the conversation with the question on everybody・s mind.

"Don・t y・ know already, Betsy? Y・ ripped all m・ other secrets outta m・ mind. Dat・s how y・ found out ・bout de Massacre, right?" Remy threw all his frustration and vehemence into the words.

"I・no, I don・t." And then she fell silent.

After a moment Remy decided to answer, realizing that if he didn・t Sinister would, warping it to make Remy seem like the bad guy. "I was an Omega. I ain・t anymore." Okay, so maybe he wasn・t really giving any new information, but what they were asking was personal. It was his secret pain, the battle he had fought and given so much to win. Or maybe he had lost. He never could be sure.

"That doesn・t help much," Bobby commented coldly.

"Non, I guess it doesn・t."

[He walks through the ward in the hospital, long legs taking quick strides. It has been a week since the incident at the theater in Seattle and he has spent the time since searching out someone who might help him with these powers, might stop him from loosing control next time they decide to kick it up a notch. He thinks he may have finally succeeded.

Dr. Jerry Salsman is on the surface a simple medical practitioner, specializing in strange and rare diseases. But beneath that cover is one of the best mutant doctors available, secretly selling out his talents to those in need to prevent government detection and interference. He is one of the few a sick mutant can seek without fear of persecution. He has also claimed that he might be able to help Remy with his powers.

The halls are white, flawless, and plain. It is so boring that the task of walking through them almost becomes tedious, suffocating. He hates this place, has always disliked the closure hospitals made him feel. He・s woken up in them too many times, barely remembering the event that had caused him to end up there, as doctors interrogated him and nurses questioned him. And of course, once they realized he was a mutant, once they saw his eyes, he was only treated worse...

Dr. Salsman・s office is at the end of the hall, and as he walks toward it he glances in one room to see a tiny little boy stare back at him with big, round, eyes. They are the color of night, dark and lonely. He almost passes by, but stops. Something in the child・s face catches his attention, the emptiness, the forced solitude. He understands these feelings; he has grown up with them. He enters the hospital room.

No one is inside and the boy peers at him with curiosity, his chocolate face watching this strange man with the dark sunglasses.

Remy comes up to the side of the bed and pats the boy on his bald, shiny head. Heart monitors beep, machines whir, strange liquids flow through tubes stuck into the tiny arms of the young patient. And he feels the pain, the yearning of this child. He has never been overly compassionate and caring; if there had been an adult in this bed he would have never bothered to enter. But a child? Children should not have to suffer this way. He knows first hand what it is to have the boundless dreams and energy of one so young stolen away unjustly.

He smiles at the child, but gets no reaction in return. The boy looks so small, so fragile, like one touch could shatter him into a million shards that would drift away into the setting sun, bringing those dark, starless eyes to the night from which they come.

Moving his hands quickly, he seems to produce a card out of thin air. It is the Ace of Hearts and he hands it to the weak, clutching grasp of the boy. Finally, he is rewarded with a smile, though a tiny one that only barely turns the edges of the child・s lips upward. After showing that his hands are empty, Remy reaches down to the child・s ear and pulls out a perfectly wrapped piece of candy. This time the resulting smile is wide and enthusiastic, as the little hand eagerly grabs it and unwraps it, popping it into a watering mouth.

And then he gives an extravagant bow and one last smile, before he backs out of the door. No words were ever exchanged; there was no need. And Remy uses his empathic ability to leave the child with a sense of hope, with a contentedness and peace. He continues down the hall.

He never makes it into the door of the office that is his destination. Because there is a burning sensation overtaking his body, a feeling like a million hot needles poking him constantly. And it grows with the horror in his eyes.

He tries to control it, oh does he try, but in the end he fails. The kinetic energy bursts out, riding in waves across everything around him, blowing up the office he stands so close to, destroying what and who・s inside. Smashing his hope. He can feel the screams again, the agony. And once again he can do nothing to stop it.

When it finally ends he is left shivering on the floor. And he knows that everyone nearby is dead, including the little boy he had tried so hard to help...]

"Remy?" Rogue・s voice came to him softly, fearfully. He knew she wanted him to tell her what he was hiding, what he was so reluctant to share. She wanted him to make it okay, to tell her that everything was fine and that he had done nothing wrong, that her fears were unfounded. He could do none of this. Not without lying. And he didn・t want to lie, so he remained silent.

"How come ya aren・t an Omega anymore, sugah?" she asked, pleading with him to tell her.

"Y・ already know. You・ve absorbed m・ memories. All y・ have to do is be willin・ t・ find de answers." He knew she could, but he also knew she wouldn・t.

"I・I can・t... I mean... I don・t want ta do that, Remy. Ya know that. Ah got a part o・ ya inside o・ me an I don・t wanna invade that part... Ah care ・bout ya too much. Ah don・t wanna steal yer secrets like that, ta invade yer privacy. Ah jus・ want ya ta tell me." He met her brilliant green eyes and then turned away.

"I can・t." Part of him wished she would just find the answers for herself, that she would release him from the burden of hiding it all.

"Why not?" She suddenly was suspicious, her glare turning hard and her words like steel.

"Non! It ain・t like that... I・" How could he explain that what he・d been through was impossible to put into words. That there was no way to make them understand what had happened without them experiencing it. That this was something so private, so personal that he couldn・t tell them. That he was afraid. "I just can・t."

"LeBeau, I am sure you are able. You simply do not want to. If you would like, I can tell them just as easily." And Remy knew that Sinister wanted to tell them. The cold, hard monster was enjoying this. He was getting revenge for something and Remy wondered what. It took him only a moment to come up with the answer. Once, when he, Bishop, and Beast (which had at that time been the Dark Beast, thought they hadn・t known it) had been captured by Sinister, Remy had tricked Sinister into releasing him from his restraints, and then had proceeded to destroy the geneticist・s lab. Sinister had been angry, and now he was getting a little payback. Even monsters relished in vengeance.

"Stay outta this, Essex! It ain・t your concern ya crazy, cold・" His language deteriorated from there and his red eyes were glowing with emotion.

"What was that?" Sinister asked. "LeBeau, I do believe your teammates have the right to know what you have been involved in." He managed to sound somewhat reasoning, despite the ever-present edge of ice in his voice.

Remy knew he had to distract Sinister, had to bait him to get his mind off their deal in the past. It was the only way to keep this private phase in his life to himself. "You・re jus・ sore ・cause I trashed your lab back in de city."

"You destroyed years of work, more information than you could ever comprehend! Nobody does that to me and avoids paying the consequences, not even you Remy. You are my prisoner now. It may do you good to remember that." Sinister was no longer mocking, no longer sarcastic. Only angry. "Enough time has been wasted."

He walked briskly back to the large computer spanning part of one wall and spent a few moments working over it.

The next moment Remy knew was darkness.

[He is walking through the streets of N・awlins this time when Sinister confronts him again. In the distance there is the booming music of some party and laughter trickles through the air. The solemn, pale figure with the red diamonds seems out of place in the joyful atmosphere.

"What do y・ want, Sinister?" he asks moodily. The event at the hospital had happened only days ago and he is still dealing with the guilt and pain of what has happened.

"I heard about your recent incident with your powers. 43 dead at a local hospital. How tragic."

"Shut up, ・bout dat! There wasn・t anything I could have done!"

"But, wasn・t there?"

He doesn・t reply right away, because he knows this man is right. He had been offered a deal that could have controlled his powers, could have prevented all those deaths. The boy. Dr. Salsman. All gone. Because of him. He knows he will never forgive himself, never be able enter a hospital again without remembering.

Sinister seems to take his silence as an answer. "Ah, so you see now why you need me." The red eyes glow in the dim light of the moon, always staring, always accusing.

"All I see is dat y・ mean trouble. An・ I got enough o・ dat in m・ life." He stands casually but every muscle is tensed and ready for action. Because he can・t shake the feeling that this man means danger.

"I could solve some of your troubles, if you would let me."

"Non, I ain・t a fool."

"No, you are not. You are simply a murderer of innocents."

"Blast you!" he screams almost hysterically. "I didn・ mean for it to happen!" Screams, blood, pain, dying. He can see it, feel it all in his mind.

"But it did happen. And now we must deal with it." Calm, always so damned calm. A moment・s pause to let that sink in and then: "All I want from you is to round up some mercenaries for a job. Then a few simple medical tests and I will give you a dosage of nano-controllers to restrain this extra power. You will simply be an Alpha mutant again."

He stares at the ghostly figure. What else can he do? The one chance he had of controlling this thing himself was Dr. Salsman, and he・s dead. There is no choice. Does it matter if this Sinister scares him, reeks of bad things? Does it matter? Not if he can prevent the accidental deaths of more innocents.

"One job. Dat・s it, right?"

Sinister doesn・t answer.

But he has no choice but to agree, whatever the price. "Fine, Sinister. Jus・ explain t・ me in detail what y・ want me t・ do."

"My employees call me Essex."

And he listens to what Essex has to say and obeys, because in the end he decides things can・t get any worse than they are now.]

He woke up to the sound of Rogue crying. She was looking into her hands blindly, tears falling from her eyes as she sniffled quietly.

"Rogue?"

She turned to look at him and then looked away just as quickly. "Ah know," was all she said.

"Huh?" The bewildered look on his face contrasted sharply with the pain on hers.

"Ah accessed yer memories. Ah shouldn・t have, but Ah had to know what yer secret was, had ta know how bad it was, if it was like the Morlock Massacre. Ah・it was horrible. Ah felt what you felt, yer pain, yer fear. And Ah understand. Ah don・t blame ya." She tried to look into his eyes, but he turned away, expression hardening into stone.

"Remy?" she asked, gently.

"Y・ had no right. Dose memories were private!" He didn・t look at her when he spoke. He couldn・t. She knew everything. And now she had doomed herself to be haunted by the same things he was.

"I know, sugah. But, ya told me to." The way she said it didn・t make the excuse sound very convincing.

"Since when do y・ listen t・ me?" He realized suddenly that he had been testing her before. And that she had failed.

"Ah・m sorry, but... Ah had ta."

Remy didn・t answer. He was too angry and hurt to right now. So he looked around the rest of the room, noticing that the other X-Men were awake, and avoiding Rogue・s eyes. Wolverine was busy yelling at Sinister, his language mostly obscene and Sinister was standing by the big computer in the wall blatantly ignoring him. And then, suddenly, Remy couldn・t hear Wolverine screaming anymore. The Canadian・s mouth was still moving, his nostrils still flaring, but somehow the sound was being dampened. It was almost amusing to watch him so animated and not hear any of the snarls and growls that should have been accompaniment. Sinister continued working at the computer without comment.

"What are you doing?" Psylocke questioned Sinister, her voice firm and dark.

Sinister replied distractedly. "I have stopped the sound emanating from Wolverine・s containment cylinder."

"No, what are you doing now?"

Silence was the answer.

"I believe the lady asked you a question," Joseph said harshly, "Answer her."

"And I do not believe you have the right to question me, but if you wish to know, I am manipulating the nano-controllers." Sinister still hadn・t bothered to turn and face them.

[He had done his job, had gathered the bad folk Essex wanted. And now he holds his payment in his hands. After days of testing, this little cylinder was the result, a liquid containing tiny nano-controllers that would hold back the mutant power that made him an Omega. The best he could tell, it was supposed to create blocks in his mind to hold back the power.

Sinister had tricked him though. This dosage is only temporary, and only after one more job, only after he leads those bad folk through the tunnels under New York City for who knows what reason, will he get a more permanent dosage. But what can he do? He is stuck. He is desperate. And he is willing to do anything to make the nightmares of the people screaming stop.]

"What kind of manipulation?" Joseph questioned further. "What are you doing to us?"

Remy waited for the answer, wincing at the pain, pain like hot needles, a pain that he knew...

[He stares at the metallic cylinder in his hand that looks suspiciously like adamantium. He feels a pain throughout his body like a thousand hot needles and he knows that he is about to have another attack of his power.]

Suddenly Remy recognized the pain he felt. It was the same thing he experienced when he over-used his power... or when he lost control of it. His heart began beating very quickly. He knew he hadn・t over-used his kinetic power. But he couldn・t be loosing control... he had the nanos in him holding back the Omega potential. It was impossible... except... it was. Because after he had been knocked out by the force field Sinister had said the nano-controllers had been damaged. Was there any reason that damage couldn・t have extended to the nanos that helped control his power?

He closed his eyes and felt for the intangible wall in his mind, the one created by the nanos he had gotten from Sinister long ago, the ones that stopped him from blowing up everything around him. He found it, and noticed how frighteningly weak it was...

Sinister was talking, and Remy caught the last half of what he said. "・programming the nano-controllers to give you the Legacy Virus."

There were gasps of shock around the room, yells of outrage.

[He presses a button on the cylinder and the top slides open, revealing a reddish liquid with a metallic glint. He feels the energy growing within him, starting to burst free. He must decide now.]

Remy・s attention snapped back to what was happening around him and he realized what Sinister had said. Legacy Virus. A slow, painful death for all of the X-Men. For Sarah. For Rogue. For Storm. He knew he couldn・t let that happen. He had to stop it. And he remembered his promises to Storm and Sarah that he would take revenge on the one who had hurt them.

Sinister would pay.

He looked around his cell, thinking about some way of escape, some way to prevent Sinister from doing what he was trying to do. But there was the force field in the way, and as long as that was there he couldn・t get free. His power over kinetic energy might work in shorting it out, but he needed to touch things to charge them and if he touched the force field he would be knocked unconscious before he had the chance to do anything.

Needed to touch things to charge them. It hadn・t always been that way. There had been a time when he could charge things just by looking at them. Could he bring back that time?

He examined the barrier in his mind again, saw its weakness, found the hole he had left in it after Joseph had tried to short the nanos out back at the mansion. If he pulled just so the whole wall would collapse...

[He lifts the container towards his nose, smells the sterile quality of the liquid inside. And he knows he is taking a chance, that he can・t trust Sinister...]

And if the wall collapsed? He would loose control, he knew that. But maybe he could also free them. Maybe he could save the X-Men from a horrible fate with Legacy. Wasn・t it worth it if he could?

[But he feels the power growing within him again, knows that he has to do something now.]

He closed his eyes and reached into that hole in his mind, reached in and pulled, grasping at the walls and taking them down. The barrier cracked... and broke. And he was an Omega mutant again. He felt the flood of the power drowning him but he directed it outwards, towards the force field.

[He brings the liquid to his lips and takes a tiny sip. It tastes bitter and vile to his tongue.]

The force field glowed red, crackled, sputtered and then disappeared. And suddenly he could feel the room around him with his spatial sense and his powers were no longer limited to this tiny cylinder. Sinister was starting to turn around as Remy walked up to the glass and placed his hands on it, trying to charge it. But he couldn・t focus the power, couldn・t charge just that one object. That required too much control and so he settled for simply charging everything he saw. All except for the X-Men. He did his best to keep his energy away from them and instead directed it towards Sinister and the giant computer in the wall. He had to hope that he could control it at least that much and that the force fields would protect the X-Men. He also had to hope that if he destroyed the computer Sinister wouldn・t be able to control the nanos anymore, that none of the X-Men would end up crippled with Legacy.

[He doesn・t want to drink it but he・s running out of time. Already the potential energy is starting to convert to kinetic in the hotel room around him. He must do something.]

He felt the pain, like he was being ripped apart and he could sense Sinister・s shock and surprise. The room was glowing, the computers were glowing, Remy was glowing. And so was the glass cylinder he stood in, gripping the sides for support. Because the power was so great that even the potential energy in the air was being converted, and his control was so little that he couldn・t stop his powers from consuming his prison. It was hard enough trying to keep the X-Men safe.

And Remy LeBeau suddenly realized that he might die, right here, because of his own powers. Realized that he might literally blow himself up. He remembered the Queen of Spades that had haunted him and shivered. It had been true, the warning had been true all along.

And then Remy LeBeau also remembered the people he cared about. Remembered that he was willing to give everything to stop Sinister and save those he cherished. And then it no longer mattered that he might die.

Because in the end, Remy had been wrong when he insisted to himself and others that he was simply a thief and nothing more. He had been lying to himself.

Because in the end, Remy was a hero, not because he was born with nobility and courage, but because he cared too much to see his friends hurt.

Because in the end, Remy was a different man than he had been when he first met Ororo Monroe.

[He takes the liquid to his lips again and this time drinks the whole of it as fast as he can before he looses his resolve. There is a horrible pain as his body is ripped in several directions at once and then it is gone. He sits shuddering on the floor, suddenly feeling like he has lost apart of himself and hating the feel of the giant impenetrable wall in his mind that holds that part out of his grasp.

It is done. Tears stream across his cheeks and crash to the floor with crushing finality.]

He poured as much energy as he could into the room around him. He could feel the kinetically charged air burning his skin and lungs. The world had faded away, loosing tangibility in the enormity of what he was doing. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard Rogue scream his name, thought he felt her fear.

But it didn・t matter anymore. Because all he had now was resolve. And it was with the passion of all the pain and horror that he・d experienced in the past that he lashed out. It was with all the pure emotion that came with the truth of his mutant abilities, with the determination to see his justice done. It was with the screams of all those his powers had injured, the audience in the theater, the people in the hospital, Dr. Salsman, the boy. It was with outrage and tears. It was with the very essence of Remy LeBeau.

He saw Sinister watching him, knowing it was too late to do anything to stop Remy. Red eyes locked and Remy put all his hate and resentment, anger and pain into that glare.

Because in the end, he would win. He would not be broken by this villain, this murderer.

And then, all the while staring into the madman・s eyes, he released his hold on the energy, allowed it to ignite and let the molecules discharge their excess kinetic energy.

Remy LeBeau felt one moment of intense pain, and then...

And then the world ceased to exist.

Because in the end, Remy LeBeau was an X-Man.

And in the end, he would die for them.

finis