Gambit #1

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Issue 1: “Cutting the Deck”
Written by: Cam
Cover by: Yul Espinosa
Colors by: Jonathan Biermann
Edited by: Brian Burchette[/center]


The countryside rolled by rapidly as Gambit kicked his bike into high-gear. It had been a year since he’d left New York, and even longer since he’d been to his hometown New Orleans, Louisiana. In the last year, nothing had happened, nothing but everyday life; no contact with any of his old friends, no time spent in new places trying to make new friends, just a life on the road, and that was exactly the way Gambit wanted it.

When you let people get too close, you get hurt or they get hurt, eventually it happens, no avoiding it. The memories of one year ago still haunted Gambit’s thoughts. Not a day went by that it didn’t cross his mind.

Why’d it have to play out that way? He thought, passing a car he felt was going too slow. Gabriel was a good kid, never hurting a fly unless dat fly hurt him or his friends first… Damn! Why dis still bother me so much? Da kid’s dead, no changin’ that! Don’t do no good to keep dwellin’ on dis, it won’t bring da kid back!


He pushed it from his mind for what seemed the thousandth time today. He was about to cross the state-line from Tennessee into Alabama, a place he’d never had the chance to visit. It was a little closer to Louisiana than he ever wanted to be again, but, with nothing else to do with his time, he decided to give the place a shot.

After crossing into Alabama, it wasn’t too long before he saw a sign on the edge of the road: Now Entering Huntsville.

It was starting to get dark and he desperately needed sleep.

Good ting I stopped back in Knoxville to play in dat poker game. Got enough cash to last me awhile. He thought, lowering his speed as he entered the residential area. Guess I can afford to stop in a motel for da night. Need to gas up da bike before I go any further anyway.

He stopped at the first Motel 6 he saw.

Hmmm, dey really do leave da light on for ya.

He walked up to the counter; the short, bald man on the other side gave a start when he saw Gambit’s glowing red eyes.

“What’s up with those eyes, son?” He asked in a southern drawl, although not nearly as thick as Gambit’s accent.

“Oh, it’s just dis eye condition I’ve had since I was a baby.” Gambit lied.

He was, of course, a mutant, but mutants still weren’t exactly common knowledge to everyone, and it was probably for the better. The few people who did know Gambit’s secret hadn’t exactly been friendly, with the exception of his old teammates.

“Well, that’s some condition.” The old man said, scratching at his beard. He seemed to buy Gambit’s excuse. “Hope it’s not serious.”

“Nah, I’ve had it all my life. The doctor say it’s nothin’ bad, just bad to look at.” Gambit chuckled.

The old man gave a slight grin, almost as if he was afraid he might offend if he laughed along. He reached down behind the counter, pulling out a log-book and set it down on top of the counter.

“Alright, sir, how long you reckon you’ll be stayin’ with us?”

“Jus’ for de night.”

“Alright, now, what’s your name, son?”

“Remy Lebeau”

“Remy…Le…Beau…” The old man repeated slowly, writing the name down in the book. “And it’s just you?”

“Yessir.” Gambit replied.

“Alrighty, that’ll be fifty dollars then.”

Gambit reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a large wad of money.

“My my my.” The old man said, eyeing the cash. “Where’d you get all that?”

“Oh, I’m a bit of a card playah.” Gambit said simply.

“Goodness gracious, I may need to have you teach me some tricks.” He chuckled.

Gambit didn’t reply, instead, handing the man a fifty and putting the rest of the money back in his pocket. After receiving his key and a goodnight from the old man, he headed up to his room.

He tossed his backpack onto the bed and sat down on the edge. He’d have to wash his clothes by his next stop, with only two sets of clothes aside from his old costume, he had nothing. The old thoughts came rushing back again, haunting him, pushing at him. He lay down on the bed, hoping to escape the thoughts in his dreams, but knowing full well that he wouldn’t.


****


Remy studied his opponent’s expressions carefully. The two on the right had nothing in their hands, he could tell, and the one on the left only had two pair at best, the man across the table however, was proving a bit more difficult to read. Remy had become a master at reading people at the card table. Five minutes at the table was all he needed to get inside your head, except in this case. Eleven minutes had passed in this hand alone, and still, the mysterious stranger at the end of the table hadn’t given any tells.

Hmmm… Dis guy pretty tough. Maybe if I talk t’ him a bit, I can get inside his head.

“Hey, what you say your name was again?” Remy asked the stranger.

“Name’s Logan.” The stranger replied gruffly. “And talkin’ to me ain’t gonna help ya here, if that’s what yer thinkin’.”

Gambit hid his surprise well, he’d become good at that, but how had this…Logan… been able to turn the tables and read him?

Dis guy’s good, gotta give ‘im dat. But, no way am I gonna let dis guy beat me… better go all out…

Very subtly, he slid a card from his sleeve into his hand, giving him a total of three aces. He threw in a few more chips.

“I knew it!” Logan said suddenly, jumping to his feet and hurling the table in its side. “I knew you were a cheater! Should’ve expected as much from a Cajun!”

“What you say?” Gambit replied angrily, getting out of his chair, clenching his fists.

“I said: you’re a no good, filthy, thievin’, lyin’, scum-suckin’ Cajun!” Logan replied. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“I’m not da one wi de problem, mon ami.” Gambit replied, readying a playing card in his hand. “You are.” He sent a kinetic charge through the card, but just as he was about to throw it a small, gloved hand tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around quickly, fist clenched, ready to throw a punch, when he saw her face. A beautiful young woman with the body of a goddess. If looks could kill, Gambit was sure he’d be dead right now.

“Why dontcha put that thing away, sugah.” She said, nodding towards the playing card in his hand, “And we can talk this out like civilized human bein’s.”

“Y-Yes ma’am.” He stuttered, ceasing the charge and putting the card away.

And that moment, staring into those beautiful green eyes, he knew his life had changed forever.


****


Gambit opened his eyes. He looked at the clock to see how long he’d been out. Only four hours, meaning he still had awhile before daybreak. He rolled over and went back to sleep.


****


The wind blew refreshingly against Gambit’s face as he made his way through New York City on his new bike. It was past time he got out of the city, he was starting to wish he’d never even stayed here, it only caused problems, but that was in the past and it was time to start anew.

As he sat at a red-light, he noticed a group of thugs shoving a young kid into a back-alley.

Uh-oh… looks like trouble…

Entering the alley, he could hear the kid trying to talk his way out of the situation.

“P-please…I’m j-j-just a freashman! Y-You want money? I only have ten bucks, but you can have it!”

“Let da kid go” Gambit said.

The thugs turned around, two of them holding knives, the other had a club.

“Who’re you?” The one with the club said. He was clearly their leader.

“I’m da guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t let de kid go. Now.”

“Oh, that’s it! Get ‘em, boys!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gambit scooped an empty soda can off the ground, just barely charged it and tossed it in front of him. As the three thugs stepped over it, dismissing it as nothing, it exploded, slamming each of them against the alley wall, knocking them out.

“You alright, kid?” Gambit asked the boy.

“Fine, thanks to you… what was that you did with that can?”

Damn! I shouldn’ta done dat… next time I gotta tink dese tings through!

“Well, kid, let’s just say, I got a gift, alright?”

“A gift, huh? You’re lucky. The only gift I have is a soft gut for knuckles.”

“If you say so.” Gambit chuckled. After that, he grew silent, staring at nothing.

“Something seems to be troubling you. My name is Peter Parker, by the way.”

“Remy LeBeau, and yes, Pete, somethin’ is on my mind… Let’s just say I’m not sure of my place anymore… not sure about dis ‘gift’.”

“Well, my uncle is always saying this, granted he’s usually referring to politicians, but I think it may help, if you care to hear it?”

“Shoot, kid.”

“Well, he’s always saying ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

“Hah! Tanks, kid, but dat attitude has given me nothin’ but trouble. Do yerself a favor kid, and look after yourself first, cuz no one else is goin’ to.”

He turned to leave the alley.

“Whatever. Anyway, thanks.” Peter called from behind with just a bit of annoyance.

“Don’ mention it, Pete.”

That was the last stop he made before he left New York.

Little did Gambit know that his words to the young man would change his life forever.


****


Gambit awoke in a cold sweat. Every night, the same thing, if it wasn’t one painful memory, it was another.

Still wonder if I told dat kid de right thing? I was angry then….maybe I was wrong…

He heard something rustle. Someone else was in the room, near the foot of his bed. He’d have to move fast.

He shot up, leaping to the foot of the bed. He connected with someone, dragging them down to the floor. He threw a low punch.

“Ooof!”

Good, he’d connected. Another low-blow to distract them and he jumped to his feet and flipped on the light. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“An Assasin?! What da hell d’you want?”

The Assassin let out a slight moan as he got up from the floor. He wore the traditional garb of an Assassin, his face was covered by a black mask, the Assassin’s symbol; a dagger with the blade pointing down was very prominent.

“You gonna answer me!?”

“I came here t’ kill you, Remy LeBeau.” The Assassin said, his voice muffled by the mask. “You’re too dangerous to be left alive. De Assassins want you dead.”

“I’m sure dey do.” Gambit knew exactly what the Assassin was referring to. The prophesy.

“Yeah, they do, and they ain’t gonna rest until you are. So why not just make it easy one yerself and give up now?”

“You know that ain’t gonna happen, Georgie!”

“So, you recognize my voice, eh Remy?” Georgie pulled off his mask. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, not too much younger than Gambit, with black hair, blue eyes and a deep scar over his left eye.

“Even without da voice, I coulda smelled your stink a mile away.”

“Aww, now dat hurts ,Remy, dat really hurts. An’ you know what dey say: Hurt people, hurt people!”

He lunged at Gambit, a dagger appearing in his hand with a flash. Gambit dodged to the right, grabbed Georgie’s arm and slammed it down on his knee, snapping the bone like a twig. The dagger fell from the hand of the broken arm as Georgie screamed in agony. Gambit slammed another fist into Georgie’s face, shattering his nose. Tears flowed from the Assassin’s eyes as he dropped down to his knees.

Gambit picked up the dagger and knelt down next to his attacker. Grabbing a handful of hair, he jerked Georgie’s head back and held the dagger to his throat.

“We grew up together, Georgie. Back in the day, de T'ieves and Assassins were civil, and we had some good times. I’m willin’ to let you go in memory of dose good times, provided you tell me one ting.”

“A-Anyting Remy…Whatevah ya want…. Just let me live….”

“Who gave de order?”

“I-I-It was… was…”

“Who!?” Gambit raised his voice and made a small cut with the dagger. Georgie needed to know he meant business.

“Okay okay! It was… Bobby!”

“Liar!” Gambit yelled. “Bobby died years ago; I was dere when it happened!”

“No no, it’s true, Remy! You gotta believe me!”

Gambit sensed truth in Georgie’s words. He could practically smell the Assassin’s fear, and fear didn’t lie. But, just the same, how could Bobby possibly be alive? Gambit had watched his brother die right before his eyes years ago.

“One more question, Georgie. Den, I let you go, provided you’re honest wit me.”

“But da deal was…”

“I’m makin’ da deals here, Georgie.” He pressed the dagger slightly harder against Georgie’s neck. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Alright, fine, what else you wanna know?” Georgie complied. It appeared as if he might start to cry.

“How is Bobby still alive, eh? Tell me dat.”

“I dunno, Remy. I really don’t. He just came back ‘bout six months ago… said he’d come back from da dead. We live in the bayou, Remy, it ain’t da strangest ting we seen.”

“Alright, dat's all I needed to know.” Gambit let go of Georgie’s hair and pulled the dagger away from his throat. “Y’know, I’ll bet you’ll be on your buddy’s hit-list since you failed. May not wanna go back to the bayou, non?”

“Ha, shows what you know, T'ief! My friends won’t nevah abandon me. I’ll be welcomed back wit’ open arms, you’ll see!”

He got up, opened the door with his good arm and walked out. Gambit didn’t bother trying to stop him; he’d find out when he got back home that Gambit was right, but by then it would be too late.

Gambit was more concerned with the fact that, somehow, they had known exactly where he was. He thought back to the past few months; surely if someone had been following him all that time, he would have noticed. Something wasn’t right and he felt it. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that something bad was about to happen, he just didn’t know what it was.

He looked out the window; the sun was out, meaning it was time for him to get going. He changed into his other clothes; a red and white t-shirt and a pair of light-blue jeans. His wardrobe wasn’t the most extensive, but it served its purpose well enough. He walked into the bathroom; no time for a shower, not today, but he did make time to brush his teeth before heading downstairs to checkout.

The old man gave a start as Gambit entered the room. At that moment, Gambit knew how the Assassin’s had known where to find him. He walked up to the counter with a grin.

“Well, glad to see you slept well, son.” The old man said, feigning a smile of his own.

“Yeah, had a great night, how about yourself?”

“Ah, can’t complain. Watched a little boob-tube an’ turned in early.”

“Sounds good. Now, was dat before or after you put in de call?”

“Call?” The man asked nervously. “What d’you mean, ‘call’.”

Gambit reached over the counter, grabbing the man by the collar.

“I mean de call you put in to de Assassins.”

“Shhhh!” The man said, taking a look around the room. “Quiet down, someone might hear you!”

“Let ‘em! I wanna know how you knew who I was.”

“Alright alright…See the Assassins came through here awhile back, handed some of the local Motel owners a picture of you and gave us a number to call if we saw you. They offered us money, that’s all! Nothin’ personal, y’know? Times are tough and we gotta do what we can to adapt!”

“At de expense of another person’s life?”

“I said it was nothin’ personal!”

Gambit let go of the man’s shirt.

“You got kids, Mister?”

“I got a daughter. She’s all grown now, but yeah, why?”

“How would you feel if someone sold her out to a killer, den said it was ‘nothin’ personal’?”

The man’s expression changed to one of regret as he hung his head.

“Dat’s what I tought.” Gambit said, walking out the door.

He checked his bike over a few times. Georgie was always cocky, so there was little chance he’d have tampered with Remy’s bike, figuring he could handle it himself, still, it never hurt to check.

He hopped on his bike, slid on his helmet and hit the road, heading east. He never wanted to go back home, never wanted to even think of the place again after what had happened, but it looked like he didn’t have much choice now; the past had finally caught up with him and there was no running. It was time for him to stare down his demons and put at least one of his nightmares to rest.

He stopped briefly to put gas in the bike. He had more than enough cash on him to make it to Louisiana, if he rode hard. The only problem was, he risked something on the bike messing up if he abused it. He decided it was best if he stop somewhere fairly close by for a high-stakes game. He’d have to head deeper south into Alabama anyway before he started for Louisiana, so odds were he’d find at least one game along the way.

A few hours later, in the city of Gardendale, he found what he was looking for. A group of young guys were getting together or a high-stakes game. He hated to do it, but he had to cheat them. There was no time to waste, he had to get going. He told himself he’d pay the kids back when he came back through.

Finally, it’s done. If you really are alive, Bobby, den we got a score to settle.


To Be Continued…