Chapter Text
Remy dodged a laser blast and sent a charge card at the offending weapons system. Behind him, he could hear Rogue’s breathing. Reaching the wall, they plastered themselves to it for cover. Rogue’s eyes flicked up towards the top of the wall and grinned.
“Give me a boost?”
“Like ya even have to ask,” Remy replied. Kneeling down on one knee, he reached for her hips to steady her. Bracing a foot on his thigh, she hoisted herself up, his fingers trailing over the backs of her thighs as she went.
“Watch where you’re putting those hands, Cajun.” Rogue chided mildly, but there was no heat in it. Or, at least not the kind of heat that said he was in trouble…yet.
“Mais, I pay attention t’ everything, Chere,” he informed her. “And you can bet I always know where my hands are when it comes to you.”
“Honeydripper,” Rogue rolled her eyes indulgently.
Remy leered. “Already?”
“Oh my god! Could you guys, like, knock it off? You’re making me blush,” Kitty’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
“Gambit. Rogue. Focus,” Scott called through the comms. “You’ve got incoming.”
“Ya need any help?” Rogue asked.
Remy reached for his cards. “Non. Besides, it’s faster this way, yeah?”
Rogue hesitated. “We’re supposed to stay together."
“I got this. You go give de Chaton some cover so she can defuse that bomb,” Remy waved her off.
He could hear the goons coming around the corner of the building now. Rogue winked at him and slipped over the wall with all the grace of a thief, just as the men rounded the corner.
“Put your hands up,” one of the men ordered, pointing a gun. “Where’s your accomplice?”
“I’m afraid ma Cherie had a prior appointment and don’t have time to play games with y’all today. But Gambit’s schedule is free and clear.” Remy grinned and raised his hand, palming the deck of cards. “How do you feel ‘bout fifty-two pickup?”
Releasing the cards, they fluttered through the air like glowing confetti, landing around the men’s feet. Using their surprise to his advantage, Gambit dove behind a pallet of concrete mix just before the earth-shattering ‘boom.’
“We’re not trying to kill them, Gambit,” Cyclops said, sounding annoyed.
“Didn’t kill ‘em,” Gambit argued, flipping back over the pallet. “Just hurt ’em a bit.”
Unfurling his bo-staff, he knocked the closest rifle out of reach of the man crawling for it. He planted a boot into the man’s ribs, followed by a blow to the head. The man dropped and fell still.
“Mission completed successfully.”
Around Remy, the hologram melted away, leaving the dull metal walls of the Danger Room. Across the space, Kitty and Rogue trotted towards him with triumphant smiles. Cyclops, on the other hand, looked like his spandex was riding up in all the wrong places.
“You can’t go around pulling moves like that, Gambit,” the X-Men leader groused. “We’re trying to uphold a positive image for mutants. If you got caught on camera, pulling a dirty trick like that against an injured man, how would it look? The news would have a field day.”
“Pretty sure it would look like six-on-one odds,” Rogue interjected.
“It wouldn’t have been six-on-one if you two had stuck to the plan and stayed together,” Cyclops reminded her.
“The plan was taking too long,” Remy rolled his eyes, and collapsed his bo-staff. “Things would have looked a lot worse if de bomb had gone off. And someone needed to keep watch while de Chaton was makin’ sure de whole block didn’t go ‘boom’”
“You need to communicate before you go making changes to the plan,” Scott took a half-step forward, crowding him. Remy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t back down.
“You mean your plan,” he scoffed. “Sometimes de straight and narrow is de long way around.”
“Whoa! Let’s calm down, everyone,” Kitty stepped between them. “We got the job done, and we beat the bad guys. All things considered, I’d totally call that a win.”
Summers wasn’t having it. “You could have put everyone in danger by keeping things from your team.”
“Shockingly, there isn’t always time in a fight t’ have a focus group.” Remy shifted his weight. “Ya can’t let opportunity slip through your fingers.”
“What if Rogue had gotten hurt while moving through the building without you to watch out for her?”
“I’m sorry. Ya wanna run that by me again?” Rogue’s voice could have frozen Mercury.
Remy laughed outright at that, both at the idea and at Summers for stepping in it. “Can’t get into trouble if ya don’t get caught. And Rogue is nearly as good as I am at not getting caught these days.”
Summers crossed his arms. “Oh, well, that’s reassuring.”
“Bon. I think so too.”
“That’s enough.” Rogue snapped. She fisted a hand on her hip. “I want a shower, and you two roosters need to calm down. Remy, let’s go.”
A hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him towards the door with surprising strength. Remy allowed himself to be dragged along, but not before tossing a smug smirk and a two-finger salute over his shoulders at Summers as the metal doors slid shut behind him.
Rogue muttered under her breath as she pulled him towards the elevator. The lift opened immediately, and they stepped in. Rogue dropped his hand and crossed her arms.
“Ya doin’ okay, Chere?” Remy asked, pressing the button for the upper floors. He really didn’t want her to be mad at him if she felt like he’d abandoned her during the mission.
“Yeah,” Rogue exhaled. “I love Scott. I do. But sometimes the whole Team Leader thing is a bit much.”
Ah, so she was pissed with Summers and not him. Remy could live with that.
She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I hate to say it, though, we probably should have notified him and Kitty that we were splitting up.”
Never mind then.
Remy tried to ignore the irritation that itched up his spine. He stood by having Rogue go watch Kitty’s back, rather than his. Six-on-one was hardly the worst odds he’d ever faced.
Julien had seen to that on more than one occasion.
Remy inhaled deeply. Objectively, Summers was a good strategist, level-headed, and cool under pressure. As a Master Thief, he could appreciate those qualities. But it was hard to shake the feeling that Summers was the white knight to Remy’s black-hearted scoundrel.
It didn’t help that Summers seemed intent on trying to turn him into an open book, but Remy would be damned before that happened. There were too many things he’d seen, and he didn’t intend to drag any of them onto Xavier’s doorstep. And if that meant he had to handle a few things on his own, so be it.
Summers would just have to deal with being out of the loop on occasion.
Pushing those thoughts away, Remy smirked at the Southern Belle beside him as the elevator doors opened. “Ignore him. He’s probably just in bunches that Jean is going t’ Las Vegas without him. Can’t blame him for that. What homme wouldn’t want a chance t’ go t’ Sin City with his femme?”
“She’s going to speak at the International Mutants Rights Summit.” Rogue reminded him. “It’s hardly a vacation.”
Remy tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we should take a vacation together?”
Rogue snorted. “Yeah, except every time I go somewhere with you, we end up getting into trouble.”
“Nah, just when we visit N’awlins. ‘Sides, I was thinking somewhere else. Like Monte Carlo or Paris.” He snapped his fingers. “I know this great little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that makes the best chocolate orange tart.”
Rogue made a sound of appreciation that had Remy’s ears—and other parts of his anatomy—perking up. He hadn’t heard that type of sound come out of Rogue until a few weeks ago, when they were in a back hallway of Marconi’s riverboat. Since then, it’d become something of an obsession of his to see if he could get her to make it again.
Looks like they were making a trip to Paris.
“I do love oranges,” Rogue hummed as she reached up to massage her neck.
“Say de word, and I’ll book us tickets.”
“Somehow I don’t doubt it,” Rogue shot him a bemused look. “But the only trip I’m taking is to the showers.”
“You need some help?” Remy leaned in. “I can help loosen up those tight muscles.”
Rogue muttered something under her breath about walking into that one and pushed him back with a finger to the chest. “Go grab a shower, Swamp Rat. A cold one.”
Remy pulled an old band shirt over his head. Despite the disappointment of showering alone—Dieu, he’d thought of at least three ways of fooling around her powers if Rogue was willing—he couldn’t deny that he felt more human after getting all the sweat and grim off. At least he had the rest of the day to relax. Perhaps he’d go down to the kitchen and see if there were any plans already underway for dinner.
If there weren’t, he could figure something out. If there were, depending on who it was, maybe he could convince Rogue to head into town with him.
A knock on the door brought him up short.
Opening it, Kitty stood in the hallway. “Hey. The Professor just sent out a message. He needs you, me, Scott, and Rogue in the War Room.”
He sighed. So much for relaxin’, then.
Remy slid into the empty seat beside Rogue as Kitty grabbed a spot next to Jean. Cyclops stood at the head of the table along with the Professor, dressed in a fresh uniform.
“Thank you for gathering so quickly,” the older man began. “As you know, the International Mutant Summit will be held in Las Vegas on Friday. Jean is scheduled to speak. Unfortunately, with this being a high-profile event, tensions are running high.”
Rogue stiffened in her seat, catching his attention. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know she was thinking about Duncan Matthews and Graydon Creed.
Rogue leaned forward in her seat. “Do ya think that Friends of Humanity will show up?”
“It’s a possibility,” the Professor acknowledged. “But at this time, we are more concerned about locals and tourists who might start trouble, heckling attendees, or picking fights.”
Remy could see that. Hell, how many times had he seen that on Bourbon Street? A bunch of tourist get too far into their cups and their feelings before deciding to make it everyone else’s problem.
“The X-Men have been called in to keep an eye on things and lend support to local law enforcement if needed,” Summers announced.
“You can count on us, Professor,” Jean smiled.
“Thank you, Jean,” The Professor smiled back. “There is something else I would like to discuss with you. Cerebro has picked up on an odd pattern of mutant signatures in the area. Three mutants, all teenagers, who Cerebro recorded using their powers fairly regularly, suddenly used their powers at increased levels for a short burst before disappearing.”
“What do you think it is?” Kitty asked.
“I’m not sure,” the Professor admitted. “It may be nothing, but unfortunately, Cerebro hasn’t been able to pick up on them using their powers again, so we can’t be sure. Regardless, the area where Cerebro recorded these powers also coincides with areas of the city where homeless populations are present. We should try to reach out to make sure these children are cared for and have their needs met.”
Remy leaned back in his seat as the conversation shifted to Summit logistics, but he barely listened.
Ever since mutants had come into the spotlight, the Underground had been scrambling to recruit them. Crime families were quick to offer protection or cash to mutants in exchange for their powers and loyalty. Las Vegas, technically overseen by the Chicago contingent, was considered an open city. Any Family could operate within its limits and most Families kept representatives there year-round.
“We can reach out to local law enforcement and see if they can provide us with any more information,” Scott’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Remy stifled a laugh. He’d bet his ass that half—if not all—of L.V.P.D. was still in the mob’s pocket. They were the last time he’d been there. Speaking of which…
“Are you paying attention, Gambit?”
Remy blinked and looked around the table. Scott stared at him, his face unreadable.
“Ouais,” Remy smirked and slouched further into his seat, pulling a deck of cards from his pocket. “Just trying t’ figure out what hotel we’re staying in. I’ve been banned from a few of ‘em.”
Stunned silence greeted him. Even Rogue raised an eyebrow.
“What did you do?” Kitty asked finally.
He smiled innocently and shrugged. “Mais, all I did was win.”
Remy shrugged into his coat. Hopefully, it was late enough in the year that wearing a heavy trench coat wouldn’t be a pain in the ass, but he’d be damned if he was going into Vegas without it.
His go-bag was already packed, lying on the floor. Summers had ordered them to suit up and head for the hangar, but Jean managed to convince him that street clothes would be less obvious even in a city like Vegas.
Remy made a mental note to have a nice bottle of wine sent to Jean’s room when they got to the hotel. Maybe if he were lucky, Summers would unclench enough for Jean to remove the stick from his ass.
Padding his pockets, he made sure he had everything—lockpicks, backup picks, burner phone, cash.
Merde, his cards. Can’t forget those.
Grabbing a few packs from his nightstand drawer, a familiar jingle brought him up short. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen.
Tante Mattie.
No way in hell he was ignoring that. Remy pressed the button. “Allô, Tante. This ain’t really a great time—”
“Hush up,” Tante cut him off. “My cards fell today.”
Remy froze, a pack of cards halfway stuffed into his pocket. He cleared his throat at the implication. “Y-yeah?”
“Yes, I had the kitchen window open, and the wind came up out of nowhere, knocking a few of them onto the floor.”
She had his full attention now. Some folks said cards and tarot were nothing but superstition. Rogue didn’t give it one ounce of credit, but Remy knew better. Hell, everyone in the Guilds knew better.
Tante knew things. And if she was calling, then the cards hadn’t turned up in his favor.
Remy moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “What came up?”
“The Ace of Spades and the Queen of Hearts crossed by the Eight of Spades,” Tante answered.
Remy cursed. The Ace and the Queen were him and Rogue, respectively, no question there. The Eight of Spades typically served as a warning of danger or deception.
Not like we don’t have plenty of both in our lives, he thought.
“Is everything okay up there, Remy?” Tante asked softly, pulling him from his thoughts. Even over the phone, he could picture Tante’s eyebrows pulling together with worry.
“We got a mission in Vegas. There’s the Mutant’s Right Summit happening,” Remy answered. “They’re worried that some folks might try t’ make trouble.”
“That’s right. You told us about that last week,” Tante hummed. “Vegas ain’t exactly Guild territory. And you’ve gotten yourself in trouble there before.”
“Mais, all I did was win. Even won fair and square,” Remy argued. He wasn’t pouting. He wasn’t.
“And when folks had questions about your lucky streak instead of just explainin’ yourself like a normal human being, you went and stirred up a ruckus. Jean-Luc had headaches for weeks after trying to sort that mess out.” Tante didn’t sound impressed.
Remy bit his tongue, knowing better than to backchat. Tant had a wooden spoon and a long memory. She wouldn’t hesitate to wait until he was back home to take him to task.
Tante sighed. “Remy, there were two other cards that fell—the Jack of Spades and the Jack of Clubs. The Jack of Spades was face up, and the Jack of Clubs was face down.”
Remy frowned, racking his brain for what either card could mean. Not coming up with anything, he gave up and ran a hand over his face. No point in worrying about it. The cards tended to reveal themselves only when they were good and ready.
Now, if he could convince himself that he believed it.
“You got me there, Tante. I’ve got no idea what those cards could mean. Look, I’ve got t’ get going. Can you give Theo a heads up? I might be using one of my credit cards in Vegas. Not Robert Lord, that one’s too well known, but one of the others.”
“I will,” Tante promised. “Is Rogue going with ya?”
“Oui.”
“Then you keep her by your side. And watch over each other. And Remy?”
“Oui.”
“Don’t go lying more than you need to. You’ll only make trouble for yourself.”
With that, the line dropped. Remy sighed and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He’d keep Rogue safe, the others too, for that matter. As much as he might gripe about it, the Brady Bunch was growing on him.
Grabbing his bag, Remy slung it over his shoulder and headed out the door.
He just needed to figure out what the two Jacks meant, then he could loop the others in. He wouldn’t even mind telling Rogue now, but then she’d feel caught between covering for him and having to give Summers a heads up.
Remy wouldn’t do that to her.
Absently, he wished Logan were leading this mission, but the surly man was up in Canada, following up on some Hydra leads. Logan might charge into battle, but he’d been around the block enough times to know the ins and outs of the Underground.
Summers would want to do things by the book…in broad daylight…probably while yelling something stupid like ‘to me my X-Men.’ Remy cringed.
No, it'd be better if he could get an idea of the situation first.
The elevators opened, and Remy stepped off, immediately spotting Rogue standing by the Blackbird. She wore a new brown bomber jacket that he hadn’t seen before. She took one look at him and raised an eyebrow.
“You doing okay there, Cajun?” Rogue asked quietly as he reached her.
“Mais ouais.”
Rogue stared at him flatly, eyebrows raised in an unimpressed look, telling him without words she knew he was lying. Remy cursed. He never should have let Mercy teach her about reading body language.
Offering her his arm, he changed the subject instead. “Just wondering how Captain Hall Monitor is going to do in Sin City.”
Rogue snorted, but marched up the stairs onto the plane without pressing the matter.
Remy followed, entirely certain she hadn’t believed him for a second.