By Nicole Wagner: The Deadly Gambit (DeadlyGambit2@aol.com)
 

Main Characters: Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Ororo Munroe (Storm), James
Logan (Wolverine), Professor Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy
(Beast), Rogue, Tante Mattie, Bishop, and Oliver Trask. (Others may
soon follow, it's undecided.)
 

Content: Some slight gore, language, violence, torture, and slavery
 

Summary: The year is 1835, and Remy LeBeau is a young runaway in New
Orleans. He becomes hungry and one day steals from a bakery. The
owner catches him and notices his strange eyes, figuring the young
man could make him some money and replace the goods he had stolen.
Remy soon finds himself being sold in the slave markets of New
Orleans, where he is bought by a plantation owner, and things go bad
from there.

Rating: R
 

Marvel owns all the characters in this story. A few are made by me,
and I'm sure you'll be able to tell who owns who. I am not making any
profit from my stories, so please, do not sue me.
 

I would like to take this time to give special thanks to the
following people: BJ, my lovely lil' beta and helper of ideas (She
stops the writer's blocks! BJ's my good luck charm!), Ivan (Lady
Bethia's Husband, he helped do the historical research for this
story. Love you, Ivan!), and of course Lady Bethia, for her hard work
on spell checking and beta work on this story. Ponderosa and Diibish
for giving this story some nice artwork. Dee, Sirene, and Ebibie
(Hope I got your name right), too! I love you all!!
 

***************************
 

The suns rays could be felt on Gambit's aching back and chest as he
knelt down near a cotton plant, carefully picking the cotton off of
it, one at a time. The work was very tedious and slow, and he also
had to remove any bugs or larva that could ruin the plant. He hated
this with a passion, and the sun just seemed to make things harder.
When it hit his sensitive eyes, he would have to stop for a few
seconds to try and adjust his vision and go back to work. If he took
too long, a horseman would ride up and hit him with a stick on the
shoulders, sometimes on his still wounded back, creating a horrible
sensation of pain.
 

He had been on the Plantation for a month now, learning how to pick
cotton and remove bugs from the plants, thanks to Storm's advice and
help. Though his back was still not completely healed, Gambit
continued to work, not having any choice in the manner. Master Trask
would often come up and threaten him with a flogging if he did not
comply, and made it a daily habit of humiliating him, by pushing him
into a mud puddle or tripping him and telling him how clumsy he was.
Gambit had grown to hate this way of life. He had grown to hate the
horsemen, Master Trask, everyone but his beloved Storm. She was the
only one that was kind to him on the plantation, and for that, he
adored her.
 

A small smile crept along Storm's face, watching her dear brother
work by her side in one of the many cotton fields. She knew how badly
he hated the work and this way of life, but he was adapting quite
well, and gave her a huge amount of respect. It warmed her heart to
know someone had cared for her so much. Her eyes then saddened,
watching as Trask walked over to Gambit, taking his cane and hitting
him across the back with it, forcing a cry from her brother's lips as
he nearly fell over.
 

"Stupid boy!" Trask shouted, striking the young man's still injured
back with his cane. He truly loved to degrade and harm this one
slave. After all, he had made him into a fool in front of everyone
else. For the rest of his service here, he would punish the boy for
defying him, and just for the pure pleasure out of it. "You are
working too slow! Move faster!"
 

"I... I can' Mas'er." Gambit weakly looked up at Trask, his body was
aching so badly and his face showed the pain and anger in it that he
was feeling right now. "Mas'er keep beatin' mah... it slow mah down.
Ah in such pain... makes mah work so slow, Mas'er."
 

"You dare even talk back to me!?" He could not believe the strong
will on this young slave. Gambit had actually told him he could not
do something, and it was because of him. Trask grabbed Remy by his
long auburn hair, forcing the young man to stand up straight in front
of him. "You certainly have a mouth on you boy... perhaps I should
cut that tongue out, hmm? Then you wouldn't dare be so sassy with me,
would you?"
 
 

Those red on black eyes or Remy's narrowed at Trask. He wanted to
punch the man and just run so badly, that it made his fists shake.
But he knew he could not do such a thing, not without getting
punished badly. His lips twitched into a frown and he spoke to Trask,
trying not to sound like he was in any pain, though his hair was
being pulled so roughly and his body ached from healing
scars. "M'sorry, Mas'er Trask... it won' 'appen again."
 

"It better not, boy... for your sake it better not!" his hand finally
was released from his slave's soft, auburn hair. Trask couldn't help
but stare down at the boy as he went back to work. He paid a full
dollar for him, and Gambit had been nothing but trouble since day
one. Once he had released Remy, he noticed that the young slave's red
on black eyes glowed briefly, and began to believe the boy wasn't
just a witch, but the devil himself. Perhaps if the devil would leave
the slave, he would be more obedient and work faster, or better yet,
become human. Trask frowned even more as he looked down at the slave,
then walked to his stable, getting an idea. He got upon his horse and
rode off of the plantation grounds in what seemed like a hurry,
leaving his horsemen to watch over his slaves.
 

" 'ow de hell can you stand livin' like dis?" Remy spoke softly,
seeing as Trask was gone now, and Storm was by his side. The two
watched briefly as their Master had rode off on one of his horses.
 

"It is all I know, Remy. This is the only way of life I know."
Storm's eyes gazed over at her slave brother. He looked as if he were
in so much pain, and there was nothing she could do to ease
it. "Please, brother... do not get so angry. I fear you will be
punished again if you say something back to Master. Your back and
chest are still healing, and I do not think you can take another
beating without getting hurt badly."
 

"Oui, chere... ah know." Remy finally gave out a small smile. Storm
was always so concerned with him, checking his wounds at the end of
the day and offering to share her bed with him, to make sure he
stayed warm. She was all Remy had in the godforsaken place... and all
he ever truly loved. "Ah'll behave... fer you. Ah don' wanna see you
upset because o' mah foolishness... so ah be a good boy fer you,
chere."
 

Storm smiled at her brother. Though he tended to be sassy and tough
at times, he could still be kind-hearted and loving as well. Remy
often gave her some of the food from his dinner if she were still
hungry, and often told her stories of what it was like to be free.
He was a ray of sunshine in her life, and honored to call him her
brother. It would soon be dusk, and the two would probably go back
into their slave house and talk some more, eat, and then go to sleep,
like the two have always done since they had gotten there. Little did
Storm know, that routine was going to change, tonight.
 
 

***************************
 

"The boy has eyes of the devil! There must be something you can do!"
Oliver shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoed about the
large church he was in. His eyes darted to the three Priests before
him. They were dressed in brown robs like monks and listening to all
he had to say about the slave boy known as Gambit. "The boy never
listens to me, disobeys my orders as a slave, and is just plain evil!
You must be able to drive the wickedness out of him!"
 

"We have dealt with something like this before, with a boy named
Scott Summers." One of the three Priests began speaking to Oliver,
placing a hand upon his shoulder. "We were successful in driving out
the evil that was within him, freeing him of those demon eyes he had.
We brought him back to a righteous path, and we can do the same for
your slave boy. Just bring him here as soon as you can, and return
within a week. He will be purified by then."
 

"But if he is purified and no longer a witch, than that makes him a
normal being! It is illegal to keep regular white men as slaves!"
Oliver frowned, looking over at the Priests. "What will happen to the
poor boy once he is cleansed of the evil within his body and soul?"
 

"You can leave him with us, if you wish. We can educate him on the
ways of God, and try to bring his soul back to life, or you can
perform an act of charity and take care of the young man." A hint of
a smile came from under the Priest's hood. "I know you may not enjoy
the idea of caring for him, since he was a slave. But it is the
Catholic thing to do, to care for your fellow man in need."
 

"I will not burden you from your tasks of saving the souls of
these "witches", father." Trask looked over at the Priests, giving
them a gentle smile upon his face. "Since the boy will be cleansed
and no longer a "witch", I will take him into my care. Any man who
believes in the Church would do what I am doing for him, for it is
the right thing to do."
 

"Mister Trask, you are indeed a kind soul for being so willing to
care for the boy. God thanks you for your kindness and righteousness
in saving this young man's soul." The Priests were all smiling at
Oliver Trask, believing he was making the right choice. The "witches"
were often used as slaves, but were always deemed evil by the church.
However, they did offers to take those lost souls in and try
to "remove" the evil within them, making them human. The boy Trask
talked about would be the second boy they saved, and another link in
the chain to sainthood. "Please bring him here as soon as possible.
We will be ready to help him."
 

As Oliver turned his back towards the Priests, his smile grew as wide
as it ever could. He walked out of the church to his horse and got
upon it, quickly galloping back to the Plantation, and get rid of his
problem slave boy. Once and for all, Gambit would behave, and the
demon inside of him gone.
 

***************************
 

Diner was a bit quiet this evening. Remy and Storm were lucky enough
to be eating rice, tonight, as well as some gruel one of the slaves
had made. It was always better than eating nothing at all, in Remy's
eyes. He couldn't help but smile over at his best friend, looking
over to see if she had enough to eat, tonight. "You so quiet, Stormy.
Sumt'ing de matter, or are yah jus' tired from all de work we did?"
 

"Stormy" was a nickname Remy had given to her, since he did not like
calling her Storm all the time. She honestly did not like the
nickname, but allowed him to call her that, and only him. "How many
times have I told you not to call me that, Gambit?" A smirk came
across her face, seeing she hit a slight nerve by calling Remy his
slave name. In private, Storm would call him by his real name,
because it seemed to comfort Remy at times. "I suppose I do feel
tired, but I can feel a wind of change coming soon, brother. I do not
know how to explain it, but I fear something terrible is going to
happen."
 

"You worry too much, chere!" He couldn't help but smile at Storm, she
was always concerned about something, and that something was mainly
him. "Now yah eattin' too much air... you should be gettin' more food
into yer stomach... we gonna be worker harder tomorrow, knowin'
Mas'er." He took a spoonful of gruel into his mouth, when the door to
their slave house opened, and Trask walked in towards Remy. The spoon
was quickly knocked out of his mouth and Trask took a hold of his
shoulders, forcing Remy to stand up, while Storm watched in complete
shock and horror.
 

"It is time for the evil and wickedness to be cleansed of your soul,
boy!" Trask spat in Remy's face, holding the boy tightly by his long
auburn hair, enough to cause pain. He noticed Remy's hands give off a
weak, pinkish glow, then stop as he threw him into the wall. "Get up!
I'm bringing you to the church, tonight. They'll rid you of your
witch powers and the demon in your soul... they'll save you, boy, and
I won't have to deal with your back talk any longer! You will be a
normal man, and you will thank me for this mercy when you are
purified!"
 

"Let mah go!" Remy struggled weakly, finding that the Master had his
arm around his chest, holding one of his arms to his side. He was
able to get the other arm free and try to reach for Storm, as he was
being dragged out of the slave house and to an awaiting
horse. "Stormy! Stormy 'elp mah!" he cried out, only to see Storm
look at him, completely helpless as a rope bound his hands to his
chest, and Trask forced him upon the horse.
 

Storm ran out of the slave house towards the Master and Remy, who was
on his belly over the side of the horse. Trask quickly mounted the
large hoarse and started to gallop off, and all she could do was
stare, feeling completely helpless as her slave brother was taken
away from her. "Goddess..." she spoke softly to herself, watching the
horse disappear into the trees. "Goddess, please protect my brother."
 

***************************
 

Remy couldn't struggle the way he was position on the horse. It was
moving so fast that if he had fallen off, he would most likely break
something. During the entire ride, he watched the Plantation move
farther and farther away from his sight, and a large church come into
view ahead of him. Within minutes, the horse came to a stop and Trask
dismounted it, grabbing Remy by his long auburn hair and dragging him
to his feet.
 

"Come along, Gambit!" Trask shouted, dragging the bound slave inside
of the church. He could feel the young man shivering as he pushed him
down to the floor, in front of three cloaked priests. "Here is the
demon of my Plantation! Please purify his soul and body, and make him
human! I promise to keep my word and care for the boy once his soul
has been saved."
 

The priests looked down upon Remy, their faces hidden by hoods they
wore. One of them finally rose up and looked towards Trask. "Come
back in three days, and we will make sure that the devil inside of
him is removed."
 

"Le Diablo?" Remy asked, his voice almost unheard as he quickly
looked at the men around him. The ones in the hoods giving him the
creeps. "Dere is non devil inside o' mah! Jus' leave mah alone!"
 

"Enough of your talking, boy!" Trask yelled at Remy, turning his back
on the young man and walking out of the church. "I will do as you say
and return within three days for him. In the meantime, I will have a
room set up for him to live in. Since he will no longer be a witch,
he can live in the mansion with me, and I promise to take good care
of him. For isn't that what God expects of us as humans?"
 

"Indeed it is, Mister Trask." Spoke one of the Priests, his voice
sounding like that of an old man, a bit shaky and worn. "God expects
us to care for our fellow man, and since the boy will be returned to
a state like you and I, it is expected that someone take care of him
like one would care for you."
 

"Yes, I will take good care of him, father." And with those words and
a sinister smile upon Oliver Trask's face, he left Remy behind with
the Priests, in order to save the boy's soul. As he rode off on his
horse, all Trask could think about was the pain the young man would
face, and how it was all going to be worth it in the end.
 

***************************
 

Three days have past, and Trask returned to claim his boy. He grinned
at the thought that the slave with a big mouth would finally be calm,
and human. But because he would no longer be a witch, he would have
to care for him. He hated the thought of caring for the boy, but if
it raised his status with the church and the other rich snobs he
knew, then it was worth it. His carriage finally stopped at the front
of the church, and he got out, walking casually to the front doors.
When the doors opened, he could see the Priests waiting for him,
along with the boy, who was being held up by one of the priests.
 

"We were successful in driving the devil out of him." One of the
Priests said, smiling beneath his cloaked hood. "He put up a good
fight, but we were able to rid him of the evil inside of his soul."
 

"What happened to his eyes?" Trask carefully looked over at Remy,
seeing a blindfold stained with blood that covered his eyes, and what
looked like tear stains of blood running down his cheeks. "You
blinded him!?"
 

"We had no other choice, Oliver! The devil was in his eyes, and they
had to be removed! If we did not do so, the evil inside of him would
have gained more power." The Priest could see Trask frown, but nod in
agreement to his actions. "We also baptized him and gave him a good
name. The boy will be known as David, from now on. A name worthy from
the Bible itself."
 

"I see. I shall bring him to Church each Sunday for mass, so he can
be properly educated in the ways of God, and to help keep his soul
pure." Trask moved over and grabbed Remy by his arm. He heard the boy
cry out slightly and start to shiver, once his hand touched the
exposed flesh of his torn shirt. "Come along, David. It's time to go
home, now."
 

Remy was lead out to the carriage and placed inside of it. He could
hear the Priests talking with Trask, saying how much of a good man he
was for bringing him to them. His entire body was hurting so badly.
Remy was hungry and thirsty, for the Priests had refused him any
food, as a way of fasting him to purity. All he could see was
complete darkness, and soon, he felt a hand upon his shoulder, making
her whimper and flinch, as the carriage began to move, and they were
leaving the church. He never wanted to return to that place ever
again... but from what Trask said, he would be forced back every
Sunday. The thought of that made him whimper more, and for Trask to
say something to him.
 

"I do not want to hear you whimper any more, David!" Trask's eyes
narrowed down at Remy, who was trying to move away from him, but too
weak to do so. "You should be thanking those men, and myself for
showing you such mercy! If it wasn't for my kindness, you'd be dead
by now, boy! Do you hear me, dead!"
 

"Mah name... it ain' David... It's Remy..." He lowered his head, as
if to look upon his shoes. His head hurt so badly from the way his
eyes had been removed. He had been held down and blinded with a red
hot fire poker, all while he was awake. As much as he wanted to, he
couldn't pass out, and they went one eye at a time. The last thing he
ever say was the fire in the fire place, and the Priest right above
him. Shivering, his hands went to his head and he tried to surpass
his crying. "Ah wished ah was dead! Dey should 'ave killed mah! Why
didn' dey kill mah!?"
 

"Because your soul would have gone to hell, boy! And your name is now
David, and you will get used to that, as you had gotten used to your
slave name!" Trask watched the boy hold his head in his hands. He
could see him wanting to cry and fighting it back with all his
might. "You are obviously talking nonsense, David. perhaps you are
tired from your whole ordeal? Once we return home, you will go
straight to bed and stay there until you are well, and until you
recognize that I saved you!"
 

All Remy could do was nod in agreement. He lost his given name, once
more, but now he had also lost his sight. For all he knew, Trask
could lock him in the barn and he would never be able to tell if he
was in the slave house with Storm, or not. Images of Storm entered
his mind, his dear friend.... his only friend. She probably thought
that he had been sold or worse, dead. Remy's voice was shaking as he
talked to Trask, a man whom he was furious with, yet feared more. "S-
storm... Can Storm.... take care o' mah?"
 

"Certainly not!" Trask gave the blind boy before him a stern look. He
knew the two were close as slaves, but for one to control the weather
like she did, how would he know if she could turn the boy back into a
witch? "She cannot take care of you, and you can never be with that
witch again... or any witch for that matter! A normal slave will care
for your needs for you, David. So just forget your life as a slave
and Storm! Today, you start anew."
 

Remy turned his head from Trask and finally broke down, crying. He
needed Storm... she was his only friend, the only one that had ever
called him family or ever loved him. She would share her bed with him
and hug him at night, protecting him against the nightmares he had.
But now, he was told she was only a memory. Remy knew he could no
longer shed tears, but if he could, they would have soaked his tanned
skin and shirt by now. He could feel Trask grab his arm forcefully,
making him stop crying, but whimpering in pain from the sudden
feeling.
 

"Enough crying!" Trask yelled at Remy, letting go of his arm,
probably adding a few more bruises to it. "You can cry all you want
in your room, but not around me nor in public! When you are invited
to dinner, you shall never speak, and when I have company, you shall
remain in your room until I say so! You should be thankful I even
bother to take care of you, David! I could have just sold you to a
Brothel and made money from you! Instead I am allowing you into my
home and having you treated better than anyone has ever treated you
in your whole damned life! You keep that in mind! Continue to give me
trouble or break any of those rules I have given you, and I will sell
you to a Brothel, and allow men to have you ever night, like it or
not!"
 

For the rest of the ride back to the Plantation, Remy remained
silent. His body would shiver from time to time, mainly from the pain
of his wounds, and the fact he was trying so hard not to cry. Once
back at the Plantation, Remy was easily taken out of the carriage,
his clothing torn and in disarray as Trask forced him to sit on the
muddy ground below. Trask then stood outside the main house in front
of all the slaves, who could see the blood stains on Remy's shirt,
and the cloth around his eyes. Storm had taken notice of the events
and lowered her head, her heart aching at the sight of her brother,
as Master looked about the main house.
 

"You there!" Trask yelled up to the young slave girl on the steps of
his house, " Go fetch Bishop. I want him to take... " He glanced down
at the broken boy sitting outside the carriage, " DAVID, up to the
room I prepared. Tell him to come find me when he's done!"
 

"Yes sir, Mastah Sir." The young girl dropped the vegetables she was
peeling and ran to find the man in question. She'd seen what Master
had done to slaves who didn't move fast enough for his liking.
 

Trask looked down at Remy, seeing the young man turn his head, as if
trying to figure out where he was. He finally spoke to the boy,
calling him by the new name the Church had given him. "David, Bishop
will see that you don't starve or soil yourself. He and Mattie will
be taking care of you, and I will visit you in your bedroom, once you
have been settled in."
 

Remy tried to suppress the shiver that wanted to pass through his
body. Bishop was a huge man, the biggest man he ever laid eyes on in
his entire life. He'd been here forever as far as Remy could tell and
he was always so angry and full of hate. He had no clue what the
master had done to him, but the man hated Trask. Now Remy had to
depend on the man to look after him? And what about Storm? Would
Master take her to the evil church to be "cured" too? No, he needed
her to keep the weather nice so he would continue to have the best
crops around. He let out a soft sigh, at least his friend would be
safe from the tortures of the Priests. The sudden feeling of a large
hand on his arm made him cry out in fear, and then he heard the
familiar voice of Bishop, as the huge man tugged his arm, and forced
him to stand up.
 

"Come on BOY.I been tol' t' see afta y'. " Bishop's voice was deep
and low, plus his grip was very painful. " I don' LIKE you...BOY.
Masta' shoulda let the Devil have y'." He pulled the injured boy to
his feet, and gave him a shove." Better be able t' walk boy. I ain't
gonna carry y' lika a damn Prince."
 

Remy's legs were wobbling as he started walking straight, or what he
thought was straight. He tried to stay on his feet, but he was so
weak and thirsty. He soon collapse by the stairs, which he knew he
could not climb, and Bishop pushed him with his large foot, making
the pain in his broken body worse.
 

" I guess y' need this Black Man t' carry y' sorry ass up to yer
room." Bishop was getting angry. It was hard enough that Master Trask
had been so cruel to him for years, but to take care of some poor
white boy was enough to set him into a fury. "Come on 'fore th' Masta
see y' on the ground." He lifted the boy up into the air and over his
shoulder like a sack of cotton. Bishop then trudged up the steps and
inside the main house. He then carried the boy up another set of
stairs to the second floor of the mansion, and into a small, dark
bedroom at the end of the hallway.
 

Remy soon found himself being carried up the stairs and then another
pair of stairs. He could tell all of this by the sounds of the
footsteps the large man took. He then heard a door creak open, and
figured this was to be his room that they were entering. A sudden
gasp of air left his lungs as he was dropped onto the bed, rather
harshly, and then Bishop began speaking to him once more.
 

"You can dress your damn self, white boy!" Bishop frowned, watching
the young man slowly sit up in his bed. His whole body was shaking so
badly, yet had no sympathy for him. The boy may have been a slave,
once, but now he was like Trask. A white man who had more status than
him. At least this was a white man he could actually have power over.
After all, he was blind. A smirk formed over Bishop's lips, watching
Remy struggle with the buttons on his shirt, finally getting each one
open, and shrugging off the torn, tattered piece of clothing. His
anger soon turned to pity, seeing the scars and burns all about
Remy's chest and back. The worst looking one was a large cross
branded into his back, covering almost all of his spine. "Hurry up
now, ah don' got time to baby-sit you!"
 

Remy's hands searched the bed, finding a night shirt upon it. He felt
around the nightshirt, finding the opening at the end and putting it
over his head, despite the pain that it caused to move his arms. His
head poked through the head area, and his hands into the sleeves of
the outfit. He easily removed his pants from under the long
nightshirt without having to expose his body to Bishop at all. He
then just sat on the bed, hearing the man pick up his old clothing
with a growl and some cursing, complaining of the smell it had upon
it. He could hear Bishop leaving the bedroom, and someone walking
inside.
 

"You look more decent now, David." Trask said, looking over at
towards the bed at Remy. He slowly took a seat next to the boy,
intimidating Remy further. "This room is not much, but it's yours,
now. You will probably live the rest of your life in here. I will
permit you to come to some social gatherings with me, but you are
always to remain silent. You will go to Church on Sundays with me, as
well. I had just warned Storm to stay away from you, or else she will
be punished even more badly than you have been. Now you don't want
that, do you, David?"
 

"Non sir... non... Ah don' want dat... please don' hurt Stormy!" Remy
grabbed onto Trask's arm, begging him not to hurt Storm. If anything
ever happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself,
ever. "Ah understand... ah... ah won' see Stormy non more... " Those
words were the hardest thing he ever had to say, other than when
Trask had whipped him into saying he was his master, and that his
name was Gambit.
 

"Good boy." Trask couldn't help but smirk and ruffle his hand into
Remy's long auburn locks, which were now loose. The ribbon that had
been holding his hair back was nearly undone, and hanging off the end
of his hair. "Now then, I'll leave you to your room. Mattie will come
in shortly to clean you up." Trask got off of the boy's bed and
walked out of the room, shutting it behind him, and leaving Remy by
himself, once more.
 

Once Remy heard the door shut behind Trask, he crawled out of bed and
onto the floor. He used his ears to crawl towards the window, and
just sit there, listening to the slaves in the field singing. He
swore he could hear Storm's voice in the choir of slaves and that
gave him some comfort, as he cried for the longest of
times. "Stormy... ah wan' mah Stormy..." He whispered, hearing her
sing, and the sounds of his own crying.
 

END CHAPTER 2