Black Magick

by Spirit Melody (kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk) & Firesong (firesong@ukonline.co.uk)

Sorry we’ve taken so long with this, but it’s an extra long chapter to make up for it. ;)

Feedback: Yes please, the more FB we get the quicker we’ll write.

Archiving: Sure, ask our permission and I’m sure we’ll say yes.

Warning: Graphic rape scene.

Black Magick – Part Thirteen:

~Continuing flashback to four years ago~

It was a week ago now when Sinister had first mentioned the next job he had for Remy. Essex hadn’t been quite as forthcoming with the exact details as Remy would have liked – it had almost been as if Essex was only telling him the middle of a story without a beginning or end. He’d been given the instructions of what to do – the middle of the story; but hadn’t been told the reasons behind it – the beginning; or the overall conclusion or effect – the end.

What made this particular assignment much more unusual to Gambit though, was that apparently it was to be his last.

‘ “Successfully complete this task for me Remy, and I will reward you. I will reward you with your freedom…”’

Remy remembered the words as clear as glass and crystal. He was so very tempted by his rational side to dismiss the words as a con, telling himself that Sinister was merely playing with him as the Marauders so gleefully did all the time.

But it just didn’t seem to fit in with the scientist’s character. He never lied. He never told the complete truth either, but Remy had to ask himself if the risk of disappointment was worth it. Sinister had always been very creative with the truth, it wasn't beyond him to wrap a lie in a bundle of truths, that you never knew you were getting done over before it was too late. He was blunt and constantly stuck to the point whenever he spoke, sometimes making him sound even callous. Yet there were so many hidden sides to Essex that Remy just didn’t know what to believe.

He groaned and clutched his head with his fingers, making them sail through thick hair. ‘All dis t’inking’s givin’ me a headache.’

He removed his hands from his head and crossed his arms over his chest. Every muscle seemed fully tense. Remy was waiting for Scalphunter to come and collect him. All the Marauders, himself, and possibly even Sinister were going to go scope out the place they were going to ‘acquire information’ from. Apparently, the setting was a labyrinth of tunnels, built beneath New York City. When Remy had inquired as to why such a complicated procedure with all the team was necessary, Essex had merely said that some sort of hostile welcome was expected. Not all too much of a detailed answer, but Remy couldn’t get Essex to elaborate further.

He’d then mentioned the subject to Creed, but the only reply he’d gotten was:

“Remember yer place boy.” In a snappy, threatening tone of voice.

The door suddenly swung open and Grey marched in. Remy stood up but almost lost balance when Scalphunter hastily grabbed his wrist. Grey stopped and steadied the young man, and Remy thought he saw a glimpse of his old friend in the strong gaze, but disregarded it sadly as wishful thinking. The real Grey Crow was gone now, soul made unrecognisable by Sinister.

He walked with Grey to the awaiting tesseract and jumped gracefully into it.

*****

They’d been in the tunnels now for about two hours. The Marauders had all disseminated, scoping out every single detail of the tunnels they could. They were about a mile away from the tunnel space where the ‘Morlocks’ lived. Remy didn’t know much at all about them; except that Sinister needed various things from them like tissue/blood samples and data cataloguing of their mutant abilities, to further his research.

Remy himself was still in the area where the team had been transported. He was finding loose bricks and placing tiny pieces of machinery in the cracks. They were scanners which could detect and record thermo-signatures. Essex wanted to know how much people traffic this spot got. Even though Remy could see no one else in either direction he knew he was still hopelessly trapped. Both ways he’d encounter a Marauder before any kind of exit.

He suddenly sensed a movement behind him and swiftly turned round to see Sinister stepping out of a rapidly closing tesseract; several feet away. Upon noticing the Cajun, Essex strode over until he was by Remy’s side. Remy didn’t say anything, just stole a few glances while his hands absent-mindedly carried on his work. Essex had a blank expression on his face, and an almost far away look in his eyes. Remy surmised he was using one of his psionic abilities.

“Remy,” The Cajun jumped, slightly startled at the unwelcome intrusion of sound into the desolate quiet of the tunnels. Sinister’s voice echoed powerfully. “I want you to fetch Sabretooth and bring him back here. Head that way,” he gestured to the left of them, “and you’ll soon come across him.”

Remy looked up at Sinister but the scientist didn’t say anything more; so, shrugging, he walked through the dark tunnels, gradually moving further and further away from Essex. He moved for what seemed like hours. He was tired, and minutes started to stretch into infinite moments of time; with the only audible sound occasional drips of some liquid substance Remy would rather not identify, startlingly loud to his now quiet sensitised ears. His footfalls were silent.

Then a different noise started to creep into his hearing range. Voices muffled by distance. As riskily curious as he always was, Remy let the plentiful shadows enshroud his figure as he snuck up on the owners of the voices.

They were in visible sight as soon as he could discern their identities from the sound of their voices. Arclight and Blockbuster. As he listened in on their conversation, he felt his blood chill.

“…. sealing off escape routes?” Arclight’s voice, thoughtful but thick with its ever apparent lining of blood lust.

“Should be OK,” Blockbuster began his reply, “We can take advantage of the fact that there’s not another intersection both ways for at least half a mile. Should easily be able to catch up with any slippery individuals that escape the first containment… And then rip out their eyeballs… if they have any, that is!”

Remy’s eyes widened. It was a possibility Blockbuster was using some peculiar kind of metaphor, but somehow Remy knew in his mind and soul that the Marauder was being perfectly literal.

“Yeah… should be a pretty easy op. to carry out. Good odds of no survivors.” With his long sight which worked so well in the dark, Remy could see her face twisting into a frightening grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile. “In the early hours of tomorrow, my friend… we’re gonna paint these tunnel walls red.” She laughed and Remy vaguely heard the sounds of their heavy boots as they wandered off in the other direction.

As the full implications of the short conversation hit him, Remy moaned in despair and leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Almost everything he’d been told about the operation was a lie. A cover-up and a sham. What was really going to happen was… ‘Dieu! Bon merciful Dieu.’

Tomorrow, all the isolated mutants that lived in these tunnels would be at the ruthless mercy of a team of strong, professional killers.

He clenched his shaking hands into fists as a new emotion threatened to wash away all the others he was feeling. Or maybe it was born out of all of them. A defiant rage, so strong and overwhelming it left his senses reeling with the feel of it.

Without hesitating Remy swung round and purposefully began to backtrack his previous steps. How was it possible someone supposedly vacant of emotions could be so calculatedly cruel? Remy knew Sinister didn’t have any particular lust for bloodshed; in fact didn’t have any lust for anything – save *him* when he was in the near vicinity of the scientist – but it all seemed so… inhuman.

Well if Mr. Sinister was anything, he was certainly inhuman.

Before he’d had time to put his chaotic thoughts into any kind of order; Remy was standing in front of Essex. Cold red eyes stared impassively down at him, but he met the gaze with his own flaming scarlet irises.

“How could you?” The words came out sounding a lot steadier than he expected them to.

“How could I what, dear child?”

Remy hesitated at the endearment, but didn’t let it faze him for long.

“Y’ ordered a massacre!” He put his hands up to his head and dug his fingernails into his temples, trying to make sense of the situation, and how much he had done to speed it along, “Dey’re gonna kill dem all, aren’t dey??” He half screamed at Sinister.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow and sighed at the distraught young adult in front of him. He would have preferred that Remy had never found out. ‘But what’s done is done.’ He reasoned to himself.

“Quite probably Remy. The ‘Morlocks’’ mere presence is an insult and a hazard to everything I’ve worked for; and for many different reasons. They need to be exterminated. For the purposes of my continuing work, this place needs to be cleansed of their kind.”

“Dat’s genocide, y’ connard!” The sheer force of Remy’s frantic state of mind battered at Essex’s shields, and they affected him with a rising anger. He grew tired of the conversation. "I knew you were lyin'! You said dat you wanted blood samples and stuff! You can get dat wid'out killin' dem!" Remy threw a handful of uncharged scanners at him. "You're a liar!"

"I'm merely cleansing the genetic gene pool Remy, not that it's any of your concern." He brushed himself down. "Now, return to the job I assigned you earlier. Locate Creed and tell him to report to me.”

“Go an’ burn in HELL! I ain’t doing anyt’ing for you no more. I will be no part of dis horror y’re creating.”

Nathaniel took hold of Remy’s left arm and swung him against the nearest wall.

“I do not see that you have any choice in the matter. But if it will relieve some of your anxiety, you are not cast to play anymore of a role in this operation.”

“Damn right I’m not!”

“Go and fetch Creed.”

Remy fought Sinister’s hold. “I said non.”

“Now child!” Sinister was not used to emotions, but with Remy by his side, and feeding off his empathy, his anger uncoiled like a deadly snake. He raised his hand to strike the Cajun, but was quickly caught off guard.

“No need, I’m already here.”

Remy turned his head immediately to see Sabretooth leaning casually on one of the walls nearby, crushing the butt of a cigar under his boot. Creed smiled at him and Remy faced Sinister again, disturbed. Essex’s stare hadn’t strayed from his face. He appeared to be contemplating something.

“Creed. Teach the child a lesson.” He shoved Remy towards Sabretooth and the large man embraced the Cajun from behind, pinning Remy’s arms to his body.

“Can do Essex,” Creed spoke to the scientist who was about to leave by tesseract, “I’ll teach him a real good lesson in obedience.”

“Non.” Remy moaned miserably, now fighting the grasp of someone else. Creed tightened his grip, making Remy gasp for breath as his ribcage and chest was pressed upon. Sabretooth kicked his legs apart and wedged one of his in between them, stopping Remy from being able to kick. Creed’s whole body was now plastered against the Cajun’s, and Remy could already feel his growing desire.

Arclight followed Sinister through the tesseract soon after. Prism was in the process of being re-cloned after being smashed into almost a thousand separate glittery shards of crystal. Again.

And the remaining Marauders were now standing in some vague shape of a circle around Remy and Victor, a predatory glint in all their eyes that was not a bad mimicry of Creed’s own gaze most of the time. Scalphunter, Blockbuster, Riptide, Vertigo, Scrambler and Harpoon. Remy trembled. It never stopped. He knew Essex was lying. Even after this op. was over, he’d never be free.

Then again, he’d believed that for the first several years of his life; and it was proved not to be true. He’d got away that time because he never stopped hoping, never stopped fighting. Even when his body was forced into submission, his mind and soul rebelled to the very last.

Creed didn’t expect him to fight back right now. Only a fool would, surrounded as Remy was. He had the element of surprise up his sleeve. Pity he didn’t have any cards.

Scalphunter walked up to Remy and Creed, smiling maliciously. He put a hand underneath Remy’s t-shirt and started to run it up the smooth chest. And as Remy guessed he would, Creed loosened his grip to allow Grey the space to rip the piece of clothing off. As Sabretooth did that, Remy leapt up high and twisted in the air, pulling desperately on skills a little out of use. ‘But it like ridin’ a bike, non?’

As gravity began to catch up with him he used both Creed’s and Grey’s bodies as leverage to propel him higher and also forward. After somersaulting a few times, he landed nimbly on his feet just next to Blockbuster; then ducked and rolled before the large man could grab him. He sprinted forward until he was approximately fifteen feet from the nearest of the group.

The nearest, incidentally, was Riptide. Without hesitating the Marauder spun around and let fly some of his shurikens toward Remy. Just like the Cajun had silently predicted. Remy dove to the ground at the last second and they hit the wall with a clatter. Before fleeing, he picked them up as valuable weapons for charging, and then ran for his life. The Marauders would now be really pissed. And the majority of them, excluding Grey and maybe Creed, were pretty damn stupid. They wouldn’t think of the sinister repercussions of killing him until it was too late.

He pushed himself to his utmost limits, heart pounding in his tightening chest from exertion and fear. Luckily for him, the Marauders hadn’t been expecting any unwelcome company so they’d bought along little or no weapons. Remy slowly went through the list in his mind. Grey wasn’t a problem, he wasn’t wearing his armoured suit full of guns, Harpoon didn’t seem to have any spears, Scrambler couldn’t hurt him unless they were touching, Blockbuster also couldn’t hurt him until they were closer.

So as long as he dodged what Riptide threw, and stayed out of sight of Vertigo then, he’d be in with a good chance of… what? Escaping? Quite possibly. That thought alone seemed to give his legs a spurt of speed.

But the Marauders were quicker than him. He was tired, hurting, out of practice and generally ill.

The first to catch up was Grey and he tackled the Cajun to the ground, knocking the air out of Remy. Creed was right behind Scalphunter. Remy struggled to breathe and kicked up at Grey, catching him once in the stomach before the man grabbed his ankles, and held them down to the ground. Creed took hold of Remy’s arms and they both pushed him to the ground as he struggled, his body writhing in their grip, seemingly not hampered by the normal human limitations of flexibility.

Creed wrenched his arms above his head and secured them together with a hand around both of Remy’s wrists.

“Non!” Remy shouted, but the sound just echoed back at him cruelly. Then he felt Sabretooth’s other hand encircle his neck and start to press down. His eyes widened in fear and he thrashed in the two men’s grasps with even more force. He couldn’t breathe though, and black dots danced in the corners of his blurring vision. Creed sensed when the strength fled from Remy’s body and watched carefully as the young man’s eyes started to roll back. He released his iron grip so the Cajun didn’t descend into unconsciousness, just lacked the energy to put up much of a fight.

Remy took air in and coughed, his throat burning acridly. He only vaguely felt it as Grey tugged off his boots and jeans and Victor leisurely cut his black t-shirt in two and peeled it off him. He shivered in the cold atmosphere and tried to curl up, surprised when he was able to move and sat up, looking around himself.

The seven Marauders had circled him, cutting off any avenue of escape. Grey stepped into the circle and stood in front of Remy, smiling greedily. Remy started to stand, to get away from him, but Grey suddenly lashed out with a booted foot; catching Remy on the side of his skull. Grey watched as the Cajun toppled back down to the floor, a wave of glistening red hair shifting over to cover his face, and the darker red of blood streaming over his temple and ear. The rest of his body was a creamy white, with skin so soft it was almost an addiction; to have to stroke your hands through that fiery hair and mark that perfect flesh.

Vertigo kneeled next to him. Cooing softly, and stroking his creamy skin. Remy opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly quietened him with a hand over his mouth. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, her hands wandering over his thighs. Vertigo was always more gentle than the other Marauders, but no less cruel when she was in the mood. She moved a hand to caress his groin, but was quickly grabbed by Creed, and pulled away.

"This ain't no game for girls, frail." He shoved her to the back of the room, and threw the pieces of Remy's t-shirt to her. "There… go play with yerself over these. This is a man only party." Vertigo snarled at him, before turning to leave.

Scalphunter knelt down next to Remy and put an arm under the Cajun’s back, lifting him up effortlessly so the boy’s body was in his lap. Remy’s eyes were wide in fear and Grey trailed his fingers down over the Cajun’s chest and flat stomach, relishing the tiny tremors that went through Remy’s body. He glanced up at the other Marauders; they couldn’t hide the anticipation on their faces, but none of them would touch Remy until the unspoken permission from either him or Creed. Sabretooth was standing casually quite close, apparently satisfied with just being a spectator at the moment.

Grey smiled and turned his attention back to Remy. The Cajun was looking back at him levelly, but Grey knew he was still dazed from his own kick and Creed’s slight strangulation. He could also see the bit of conflict in the unique eyes. ‘He wants to run away from us… get as far away as he can; but a part of him wants to be closer to me, to share my warmth. It’s cold in here, I don’t really notice it, but the boy’s shivering uncontrollably. Then again, probably not just from the low temperature.’

“Don’t worry Rem; I’ll soon warm you up.”

He took a handful of Remy’s hair and pulled the Cajun up by it. Remy gasped as everything he could see tilted unsettlingly. Grey claimed his lips firmly, bruising Remy’s lips against his teeth. He savoured the kiss, ravishing Remy’s sweet mouth as he would soon love to do to his body.

Slightly reluctantly he laxened his harsh hold on numerous strands of Remy’s hair and the Cajun immediately tore his head away from Grey’s; rage and fear duelling for supremacy in his eyes. Scalphunter violently shoved Remy off his lap and the Cajun landed gracefully on the ground, happy but puzzled by being given a freedom from close proximity. He wanted to crawl backwards, away from Grey, but he knew Sabretooth was behind him and decided he preferred his current place. Then Grey started to quickly strip, and Remy suddenly understood perfectly.

When naked, Grey stood in front of him, and gestured to his fully aroused cock.

“Suck it.”

“Non! Go fuck y’self, connard.”

That earned him an amused and condescending laugh from the other Marauders and a vicious backhand from Grey. Creed stayed strangely silent. Blood dribbled languidly from Remy’s split lip.

Remy cursed in pain as both his arms were twisted tightly behind his back by Creed. The Marauder was kneeling behind him, so close Remy could feel each breath he took as his broad chest expanded as he inhaled.

“Suck it boy,” Victor whispered, hot breath on Remy’s delicate ear, “Or I'll stick my cock so far up your tight little ass, you'll be begging to suck it instead.”

Remy knew it wasn’t a bluff, the last time he’d pissed them off, both Creed and Blockbuster had fisted him. Sinister was away then. Remy took weeks to heal. Fighting every impulse in his body that told him never to submit, Remy opened his mouth and Grey slid his cock in, slowly at first and then thrust deeply. He filled Remy’s throat uncomfortably and Remy felt tears coming to his eyes at the humiliation. He didn’t shed them. Grey leisurely fucked Remy’s mouth, almost growling deep in his chest as his penis moved in the slick, wet heat.

He withdrew before he came, and made to grab Remy round the waist, to move him into a more accessible position. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the looks of lust on the other Marauders’ faces, each of them stroking themselves as they pleased.

But Creed didn’t relinquish his bruising grip on the beautiful boy.

“Patience Crow. Rules’re rules. Ya know who gets ta take the kid first here.”

Remy shivered. They all knew.

Scalphunter snorted.

“Fuckin’ get on with it then.”

A few seconds later Remy found himself standing and being subdued by Riptide and Blockbuster as Creed stripped naked. Then the man beckoned to him.

“C’mere punk.”

The two Marauders holding his wrists let go but didn’t move away. Remy shook his head, no. Creed growled, rapidly losing his temper. Remy knew there was no way he was going to escape now untouched, but he had to keep some of his pride no matter what.

Creed snarled, and took one step forward to grab a handful of Remy's hair, and yanked him closer; into a mockery of an embrace. His fingers drifted up and down Remy’s back, silently tracing the slightly prominent spine and then rested a hand on the small of Remy’s back. The Cajun shifted nervously. Victor tilted his head down and buried his nose in Remy’s silky hair, taking in his enthralling scent in one deep breath. It was an intoxicating scent to begin with – spice, natural cleanliness, something like humid New Orleans rain; and the delicious terror which smothered it all just made the unique scent all the more better.

Suddenly Creed couldn’t wait a moment longer, he had to be buried inside the trembling, barely submissive body in his arms.

The only warning Remy got was a tightening of some of Creed’s muscles before the Marauder spun him round and held him against a rough wall, his forehead on the cool surface. With Creed’s hand buried in a mass of hair at the back of his head. He lifted just enough that Remy had no choice but to stand on his toes, and hold Creed's wrist with both hands to stop his hair from being ripped from his scalp.

Creed grabbed Remy’s hips with his free hand and positioned the head of his weeping, rock hard cock to press against the ring of muscle uselessly guarding the Cajun’s insides. The fear and anger grew, almost palpably seeping off the boy’s body, inflaming Creed’s senses. He thrust in and supported Remy with his body as the Cajun screamed in familiar, but no less painful tones; loving the boy’s agony; spine arching and his fingers clawing into his wrist. Remy could hear the cruel laughter and lustful cheering of the Marauders as the sound penetrated the awful ringing in his ears.

He registered the hot trickles of blood dripping down his inner thighs as Creed thrust. They were pretty slow but brutal, giving no mercy to Remy’s insides. When he was nearing climax Creed forced Remy forward. The Cajun had no choice but to put his hands against the wall, to stop his skull being pounded into the brickwork. Creed used the new more accessible position to drive his cock up as hard and as deep as he could, revelling in Remy’s raw cries. Creed made a terrifying guttural sound as orgasm ripped through him, shooting his juices deep inside Remy; then he stilled, breathing heavily and slowly. A completely different rhythm to the shallow, frightened breaths of the Cajun. Remy’s whole body shook and he would have collapsed if he wasn’t sandwiched firmly in between Creed’s large body and the wall. There was an insistent dull throb in between his legs, but soon a terrible, sharp, cutting pain returned as Creed withdrew slowly. Remy didn’t feel any relief, he held no doubts that there was much more pain to come.

Sabretooth stepped back but kept Remy up with a powerful arm around the thin waist. Then he shoved the Cajun violently backwards and Remy fell to the floor on his back, briefly stunned. The Marauders surrounded him immediately like mindless vultures.

Harpoon viciously pulled Remy’s arms above his head and held them there with one hand, and then fisted the other one in Remy’s long hair so the Cajun couldn’t sit up. Hot hands went under Remy’s knees and lifted his legs up, eagerly spreading them.

He saw Grey’s face, vibrant and alive with blood lust and sex lust. He fought Harpoon’s grip with all the meagre strength he had left, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point. If he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the powerful, vigorous emotions of fear and hate and anger; he was sure a black depression would have numbed his mind.

But then Scalphunter entered him, and Remy sobbed, feeling like he was being ripped apart and torn open all at the same time. The edges of his vision blurred into darkness and he dared to hope he might pass out and be free from the burning agony, but he was anchored to reality by a pull of his hair by Harpoon. He whimpered in a moment’s respite from shouting and screaming, feeling strands of his hair snatched from his head.

After Grey got his satisfaction, Riptide took his turn… and then Harpoon… Blockbuster… Scrambler. At some point Sabretooth forced Remy to deep throat the mutant’s second erection and Remy desperately tried not to gag. He was successful. Just. Damn healing factor.

Mostly to Remy it was all an impossible to time session of indescribable pain, anger, horror, fear, removed humiliation and an ever present heart felt sadness that his life seemed to be heading in much the direction it had started out in; that, despite the LeBeaus’ and Mattie’s love, he’d accomplished nothing to be proud of.

“Failure.” Why did that word seem to haunt him wherever he went?

*****

He had some tenuous awareness still with him as he sensed the Marauders and Creed leaving. Going and leaving Remy in the now silent tunnels. Something about coming back for him soon after he’d been punished enough.

Remy’s façade would have shouted out that he’d already been punished enough. But that was a façade. He needed punishing, but for deeds the Marauders probably knew nothing about.

Then again, Creed did seem to display on occasion some peculiar knowledge of Remy’s past…

The Cajun drifted in and out of consciousness in the cold, dark tunnels; not able to move an inch without incredible, startling, debilitating pain.

*****

Ascending to consciousness surrounded with warmth and comparative comfort was not what Remy expected. He’d thought they’d leave him in the tunnels for much longer than this; assuming his internal clock was to be trusted. And he could still vaguely hear the metronomic drip-drip that seemed unique to the tunnels. Perhaps it was merely in his rather twisted mind. He must have been imagining one of them.

And to be honest, he didn’t know which he’d prefer – still being in the cold tunnels having hallucinations of warmth; or back in one of Sinister’s labs in the reasonable close proximity of the afore-mentioned or the Marauders.

Another warm but curiously damp sensation made itself known on his forehead and then disappeared. A moist cloth; something that would never be used around Essex’s amazingly advanced medical equipment. He also noted that he was wearing his jeans again, how had that came to be?

Remy’s eyes fluttered open, he noted instantly that the room was pleasantly free of bright light. He was only relieved for a second though; now that he was fully alert he could feel properly. He hurt. Badly. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to… and wasn’t that a depressing thought?

“Oh!” An enthusiastic but calm voice rang out in the small sectioned off ‘room’, “I see you’re awake young man. I am pleased. How are you feeling?”

The voice’s owner walked nearer to the mattress on the floor that Remy was lying on and knelt down with surprising ease and graceful fluidity. He was an old man, with smiling brown eyes, long braided white hair and a wavy beard also of some considerable length. The wisdom that shone in the hazel eyes was humbling. The man an instantly likeable face, and also possessed some kind of Druidic appearance Remy thought. Two strong hands lay clasped together in the man’s lap and the third arm… Remy blinked… rested on the floor, propping up some of the mutant’s weight. Sinister had casually mentioned that nearly all of the mutants living down here had quite extreme physical mutations.

“I…okay. Umm, where am I?”

The man smiled sympathetically, “The Morlock tunnels. My name is Stephan, I am a healer of sorts for the people that live here,” Remy’s heart skipped a beat, he was still in the tunnels and many hours had passed, that meant it was almost time…, “What is-“

“The kid’s awake?” A harsh woman’s voice interrupted the old man’s.

“Yes Callisto; he is,” Stephan patted Remy on the shoulder and then stood up to leave, “I must go now, I’ll be back soon child.”

Remy opened his mouth to ask Stephan to stay but the man was gone. He turned his agitated attentions to the woman; her tone of voice and body posture screamed leadership, control and violence. She had battle scars and lines of hardship on her face, yet regardless she was quite a handsome woman. A black eyepatch graced her right eye, certainly adding to her visage of carnal danger.

“I’m Callisto,” she spoke in clipped tones, regarding Remy warily, “I’m not the leader here, but I might as well be.” That was said with some scorn, Remy wondered as to the meaning behind it, “Who are you?”

“M’ name’s Remy, but none of dat matter now; I have t’ tell you somet’ing.” He could hear the urgent anxiety that lay thick in his voice, but didn’t mind it if it got Callisto’s attention.

Before she could reply, a girl ran into the alcove in the tunnels, barely in her teens and flushed, panting heavily, apparently from running. She was close to tears.

“Callisto!” She gasped, “You’ve gotta come. We’re under attack. They killed… they killed Miaca when he didn’t allow them entry.”

The only sign that belied Callisto’s shock and fear was the slight widening of her eyes, and a convulsive swallow.

“I’ve got to go, stay here.” She said to Remy without looking away from the girl. Remy sat up, grimacing at the pain in his lower abdomen.

“Non! Wait, I need t’ warn you! Y’ can’ fight de people who’re… NON! WAIT!!!” He screamed after the fleeing pair but no reply came as their footsteps echoed further and further away from him.

He grabbed hold of a strong pipe above his head and used it to pull himself to his feet. He buried the nauseating feel of the pain between his legs. His head pounded, complaining from the force of Grey’s kick.

Remy took off as fast as he could, following the route Callisto and the girl seemed to have taken. But he needn’t have had to remember the path; when, with a wrenching tug at his gut, he heard the first screams.

*****

A battle was being fought around him, coloured in red. Or maybe it was a massacre taking shape; it was hard to tell in the confusing mass of bodies fighting with speed, sickening sounds Remy wasn’t sure he wanted to place; blood and gore and death. Too much.

Remy was hardly aware of the tears that slipped down his cheeks. He couldn’t make sense of it all. He could see the action around him; but he could feel so much pain and fear. It was a sensation he just couldn’t get rid of. He’d felt things like it before, whispers of alien emotions… but nothing like this. Never anything like this.

He attempted to make his way to wherever Creed was, he knew that Sabretooth could do more damage himself than three Marauders together; but he was walking almost blinded – everything surrounding him erupting into a dangerous chaos.

When he spotted Creed through the throng, the merc was slitting a young woman’s throat. It was already too late to even try to save her. As Sabretooth let the woman’s body fall limply to the ground he sniffed the air, trying to pinpoint the source of the most pure fear. His gaze turned to a tiny bundle of baggy clothes in a corner, it was a boy, only about six years old. Creed started toward the boy, and big brown eyes looked up fearfully; the child sensing his inevitable doom.

Remy ran and stood in front of the boy, blocking Creed’s path. He reached out with a hand and pulled the boy to his feet; and as if that was what the boy needed to get moving, he rushed off away from the fighting. Sabretooth saw him and was about to lunge for him, so Remy scrabbled on the ground for loose gravel and stones. Upon finding a reasonable handful he charged them and flung them at Creed.

Sabretooth roared, both arms thrown up to protect his face from the wave of tiny explosions. The minimal harm they caused healed in seconds, but the barrage stunned Creed, allowing the little boy time enough to sprint out of death’s way.

Creed growled and slammed Remy up against the tunnel wall.

“Listen punk; it's bad enough that ya don't stay to watch this party start, but to let my fun get away, that's a big no-no." He backhanded Remy to the floor. "I’ve got a job ta do here. When I’m finished, I’ll come back an’ play with ya, I promise.”

Remy’s cheeks flushed with anger and denial, but he couldn’t care at the moment.

A piercing shriek caught both the men's attention. A woman was clumsily running down the tunnel to the right of them, escaping most of the Marauders, but heading straight into Sabretooth’s grasp. She was so terrified it appeared that she was hardly even aware of Remy and Creed’s presence. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she kept looking over her shoulder and her skin kept shifting from scarlet red to midnight blue. Perhaps an indicator of her anarchic emotions.

Creed walked straight past Remy to slash at the woman with his lethal, blood stained claws. Without hesitating, Remy struggled to his feet and dove forward to try and shove the woman out of the way, but Creed was too quick. Too quick, even, for himself perhaps. The young woman didn’t feel the agonising pain of claws tearing through her flesh and bone; but Remy did. He looked for a second in the shocked eyes of the woman as Creed ripped through his chest and torso, leaving three jagged and very deep gashes. The next second every particle of strength seemed to escape Remy’s body and he fell to the floor, just a moment away from passing out. He stayed awake long enough to hear the screams of the woman as she was dismembered; and feel as some of her blood sprayed on to him, mixing with the already copious amounts of blood leaving his body.

*****

Remy felt a blistering heat hovering around him, and opened his eyes out of curiosity. He would have sobbed at the pain of his chest and stomach, had he not known it would just double it.

Corpses littered the tunnel floor around him; the fighting must have spread further this way when he was unconscious. Several small fires raged too, in between the pools of darkening blood. The last vestiges of the Morlocks’ fear screamed in his mind, rendering him hardly able to think. He sensed tears of despair and guilt making silvery trails down his cheeks. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – quell the thought that he played a major role in all this horror and death… that it was all his fault.

As the heat of one of the closest electrical fires got too much Remy dug his fingers into the ground and pulled himself away from the terrible heat; he cried out as a most brilliant pain spasmed through him; and passed out again.

*****

As his eyes fluttered open once more Remy distinctly heard a soft, mewling, crying sound that was far too high-pitched for him to be making. With great effort he turned his head toward the sound and saw a blood soaked, huddled up, young girl with… bones sticking out of her at painfully odd angles. For half a second he thought she had been gravely wounded, but then realised with injuries that serious she would definitely not be alive.

“…Hey.” Remy’s voice sounded awfully raspy to his own ears, and his throat burned; but he needed to know if the girl was alright.

Her head snapped up and she looked into his eyes, trembling. The sudden tiny flare of hope in her mind soothed Remy no end.

“Hey,” he repeated, having gotten her attention, “Can y’ move?”

After speaking a coughing fit suddenly racked Remy, and he wondered why, until bright red, bubbling blood gushed out of his mouth. It felt like he was dying. ‘Hopefully I am.’

The girl sobbed a little upon seeing him cough up blood.

“Too frightened… maybe they’re… they’re,” She sobbed again, “… maybe they’re still here.”

“Don’ t’ink so.”

Remy knew the girl was too paralysed with terror to move by her own accord.

He got up to his knees, shaking all over; wincing as more blood came up his throat and ran down the side of his lip. He pulled on the strength that her trusting hope gifted to him and somehow… somehow he made his way over to her, and gave her his hand.

He led her slowly to the nearest tunnel exit into the above world that he knew but collapsed there, as if the purpose of the sudden strength he’d found had been fulfilled. Before descending into the awaiting oblivion, he told her with his eyes to go. She hesitated, looking down at him, and then at the faint lights of the streets of New York City and smiled sadly; walking into a world she knew nothing of but hate.

*****

Remy was found alive hours later by the police and recovery paramedics. Apparently, they told him days after in hospital, he’d been the only survivor they’d found.

~*~

TBC

~*~