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Post by Remington LeBeau on Jan 11, 2005 21:33:40 GMT -5
He strolled the length of the graveyard, heading back, back to the past. His past. The thieves guild, Belladonna, he was about to get back into the swing of things. Even though it was a mission, offered to him, he couldn't turn his back on this, even if he wasn't looking forward to looking back. He leapt the fence on the other side of the graveyard with the ease of a cat sitting on a chair.
He glanced up, this was it, "Dis is it ami. Dis is da place, da place ya left behind to do some real good in dis world. Now ya goin back... what da hell was you t'inkin?" He shook his and made his way up the steps of the large plantation-style house. He didn't even knock, just opened the door and decided to wait for the fireworks. "Guess who come back?" He shouted as he stepped the door.
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Post by Sabretooth on Jan 11, 2005 21:48:25 GMT -5
He stepped out from behind a tree, where he sniffed the swamp rat's presence, and the scent of lavender. Psylocke and Gambit... he knew SHIELD would get involved. And where anything happened in New Orleans, Gambit would find his way back. He wanted Psylocke alone to finish the job he started on her. The whirling motion of air was heard as blood-crusted dog-tags spun around on his index finger. Stepping out of the darkness, a stogie in his mouth, he grinned evilly. "Don't bother shoutin' fer yer family, LeBeau. I killed 'em. I killed 'em all... tho' yer father was th' real challenge." he took a puff off his cigar, grinning evilly, sadistically. Stopping the whirring motion with the dog tags, he dug into his pocket, plucking out the badge of Thievery, and tossed it on the ground before Remy.
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Post by Psylocke on Jan 11, 2005 21:50:06 GMT -5
Even as she stepped onto Bourbon Street Betsy felt something was amiss. Little hairs at the back of her neck were standing on end, and a cold chill began to run down her spine as her pace slowed. The lavender haired assassin was double crossed, and she knew it. Christ only 36 hours and her mission from S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised. “Damnit!” She caught the sight of a few Yakuza operatives smoking outside of the compound and she quickly turned tail before being noticed.
“Fuck it!” she muttered. Pace quickening to a light run the telepath was on a blood trail for the plantation. The skin tight vinyl pants and matching sleeveless shirt were revealed to the down pouring rain as her trench coat billowed out behind her. Without hesitation, Elisabeth Braddock vaulted herself over the very fence Remy had minutes before, and was stomping though the abandoned graveyard.
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Post by Remington LeBeau on Jan 11, 2005 21:52:09 GMT -5
He stopped inside, his eyes growing to thin slits. When he was here, there would have been fifteen people on an intruder the second he thought about stepping through the door. There were no lights on, none at all. He reached over and flipped the switch, flooding the foyer with an eerie glow. His eyes went wide, and the smoke fell from his lips, "Merde! What happen'd 'ere?" He stepped further into the house, and literally slipped in a puddle of blood as he stepped into the living room. He hit his ass hard and looked around, eyes going wider than before.
Everything was smashed, broken, and shattered. There was not a soul in sight, but then something caught his eye. Their was a stark white piece of paper on the wall, hung by a dagger that he had too much knowledge of. It was the dagger he'd given to Belladonna the day he left. He pushed himself up and slowly made his way to the slip of paper. The note read as follows. <Remy, He killed everyone. He killed the entire guild, He killed me. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!>
His head hit the wall, his fist pounded away. There was only one person twisted enough, sick enough to do something this awful. "Creed..." His fist punched through the wall, but never came back out. His eyes began to get that eerie glow about them. He began to change, to manipulate the potential energy all around him, all the energy he had he forced through him and into the wall where his fist stuck, bunched in anger and hatred. He lost track of how long he was standing there. Slowly but surely, the entire wall began to glow a soft pink color.
His breath came in heavy draws, and he exhaled each with a sharpness that he hadn't known in ages. Everything he'd ever cared for, everything he'd left to do, everyone he ever knew, in the end, was gone. He'd tried to save the world, and succeeded. He'd left the guild for their own sakes, to protect them, for nothing. His breath went long deep draws, to short raspy bits in quick succession. The wall's eerie glow changed from light pink to red as it became charged with even more kinetic energy.
"Dis is de end. Da T'ieve's guild is no more, but dis Cajun..." He turned and walked off, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it quickly, on a charged card he produced. As he stepped through the door of the house, He flipped the card behind him. It fluttered, like in a movie when they slow everything down for drama, as he stepped off the porch.
"Farewell... Belladonna." The card touched down on the hardwood floor, and exploded violently, sending wood shrapnel everywhere inside. This caused a chain-reaction, as the shrapnel hit the wall he'd put some much energy into charging, and the explosion the followed was like out of a Die Hard movie. Gambit stood in stark silence, the aftershock of the explosion causing his brown trench coat billow around him like a cape. "Remy's comin for ya Creed... You best be ready."
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Post by Sabretooth on Jan 11, 2005 21:53:50 GMT -5
he took a puff off his cigar, "Bingo, gumbo. Guilds fall... nothin' good lasts forever..." he smirked, walking onto the dirt path, grinning at the destruction of the house. "Maybe if ye stuck with th' Marauders... none o' this would have to had happened..." he tossed the stogie on the ground, crushing the spent object under his boot. He grinned evilly, demonically. No remorse for the death of Gambit's family from Creed...
"Maybe if ya didn't join th' X-Men, then yer family might still be alive." he twirled the blood-crusted dog tags on his finger. "I got more of yer family t' kill, gumbo. A skunk-haired girl might look nice in a dog bowl..." he wanted to piss him off. Rile him up.... tear him up emotionally. A reckless fighter was a defeated fighter. After all. he killed Gambit's mentor. What did that say about Gambit's skills against Creed? He's been around this Earth longer... been training... but Creed's real joy just came from bringing up Gambit's past.
"Bella Donna's th' new Queen o' Lees-eanna, gumbo. An' she wants all her competitors dead." he picked his canine with an adamantium claw. "An' fer an assassin like me, th' price was jus' too good t' let go -- 'specially since you left me with th' Morlocks... an' deserted Sinister. No honor, right, gumbo?" he grinned to himself crushing the dog tags with his hands, the adamantium claws cutting up the metal, blood-crusted object. He tossed them on the ground, well aware that Psylocke had entered the vicinity.
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Post by Psylocke on Jan 11, 2005 21:54:55 GMT -5
The kinetic explosion knocked her back a step or two, and her nearly colorless blue eyes widened as she watched the Cajun broken and torn from the inside walking away from the pyre. Equally surprising was the cameo from Victor Creed. Halting to listen to their banter, Psylocke clenched her fists and readied an attack. The scene Betsy watched unfold reeked of parallel meaning to her. A comrade facing Creed, facing that monster while he toyed with their psyche. It was like watching Boomer’s torment all over again.
“Gambit! Don’t listen to him!” she shouted to her teammate hoping her words would clarify his emotional state so he would fight with a clear head. “I knew I smelled something rotten…” she glared toward Sabretooth.
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Post by Remington LeBeau on Jan 11, 2005 21:56:04 GMT -5
He knew well and clear that Creed was planning on doing him harm. He was well aware of what Creed was saying. He was well aware that Betsy was there, and giving him a warning. He was well aware that he was going to kill Creed. From nowhere, he produced the small silver cylinder and pressed the nearly invisible button. *Shriiik* The Staff unfolded to it's full six-foot length and he spun it around and let it rest, from his palm, to the crook of his elbow, and under his armpit.
"Gambit gon' make you regret dat." He had already taken a stance for this fight, ready for anything. He was far beyond angered, he was no longer Gambit, or even Remington LeBeau, he was just a man, "Everyone has a price ta charge Creed. Gambit gon show jou what happens when you cross a rat."
The staff stayed where it was, but the man's free hand flew forward, releasing three charged cards he'd secretly charged up under his trench coat, sending them flying through the air toward Creed.
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Post by Sabretooth on Jan 11, 2005 21:57:37 GMT -5
He immediately ducked and rolled forward, allowing the cards to explode on the ground behind him. He snarled, drool flying from his mouth as he lunged towards Gambit. His adamantium nails were poised to strike, they were made to hurt, made to kill... he kept a mental note for Psylocke. His enhanced hearing allowed him to track her every move simultaneously while ducking it out with the cajun. This was the joy... beating up another mutant. Gambit had the acrobatic prowess. But Creed had the strength, he had enhanced reflexes, speed, agility... he had the senses, he had the experience... he kept telling himself not to kill him outright, because that was the duty reserved for Bella Donna. "It's a shame, gumbo... ya were a hell of a killer when we were in th' marauders." he grinned evilly.
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Post by Psylocke on Jan 11, 2005 21:58:09 GMT -5
The rain that fell relentlessly over the trio seemed to augment the moment. Tragic and failed. Hot flames from the burning plantation were hissing in retaliation to the moisture in the air. A pink glow emanated from the ninja’s hand and as the neared the crazed Creed, her side stepping footfalls were dampened from the wet earth. Nearly undetectable. As gambit’s first attack failed and the hulking brute made his move, Braddock leaped into the air, striking down toward Creed’s lower spine with a powerful axe kick. “Not this time Victor.. Now why don’t you pick on someone your own size!”
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Post by Remington LeBeau on Jan 11, 2005 21:59:15 GMT -5
He didn't have to think very hard to know Creed was holding back. "Gambit gonna put a hurtin on ya Creed." He did a back handspring into a three hundred and sixty degrees spin as he pushed off the ground, staff in hand. As his feet hit the ground, the staff came whirling around in front of him, pressing into the ground, with a might the Cajun shouldn't possess, and he was heading right back into the fray, feet flying towards the larger man, just as Betsy moved in for her own attack on the beast. "Creed be Gambit's, chere. Ya back off, or Gambit goes after you next, ami." He feet moved in a flurry of kicks as he proceeded forward towards Creed. He wanted Creed, all for himself.
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Post by Sabretooth on Jan 11, 2005 22:00:13 GMT -5
He hit the ground, belly first. The subtle swish of air told him that Psylocke was aiming a kick for his back. With his body pressed against the ground, she should soar right over-head... and head straight into Gambit who was attacking his front. He chuckled slowly and rolled 3 times across the ground to regain his stance. He lowered himself in a reminiscence of a feline. He snarled and his mind started to turn from the civil man known as Victor Creed.
His inner demons egging him on. Thoughts of brutality, lust, violence, rape, and murder surged through his mind. His amber eyes glowing in the explosion and flames of the plantation house. His adrenaline pumping hard. He was going to maim Gambit... and more than likely murder Psylocke. Finishing the job he missed years ago.
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Post by Psylocke on Jan 11, 2005 22:00:59 GMT -5
Betsy’s eye widened as Creed anticipated the swift downward kick, and as he ducked and rolled away from her strike, Betsy Braddock’s heavy combat styled boot thunked a deep imprint into the soft earth. Unfortunate that her strike missed Victor, but fortunate that the wet earth made her footing fail, Elisabeth slipped to one knee and barely avoided the trio of charged playing cards intended for Sabretooth. “Open your eyes Gambit he’s trying to throw off your game now get it together!”
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Post by Remington LeBeau on Jan 11, 2005 22:02:22 GMT -5
He still had a good grip on his bo-staff, but as Creed hit the ground rolling, the Cajun cursed. Now, instead of kicking Creed in the head, as he had planned, he was heading directly for the violet-haired beauty that had attacked from the opposite direction. He pushed as hard as he could, but with the angle he was at, and the staff's rather leaned angle, he had to think quicker than normal. He brought his knees to his chest and rolled backward in mid-air. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet, just on the other side of Betsy, who was on now on the ground due to some slippage in the mud.
It was a pose that defined him in every way. His bo-staff in hand and behind his back, in a crouch, with rain pouring down over him. He spun around, still in a crouch, eyes dropping to Betsy on the slick, wet ground. He only kept his eyes there long enough to see that she was fine, before returning his full attention to Creed, "Remy tol'ja dat he was gonna pay you fer dat, and he plans on givin one helluva tip." From nowhere he had three cards between four fingers, but steadied himself from charging them just yet.
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Post by Sabretooth on Jan 11, 2005 22:03:02 GMT -5
Grinning evilly, he moved towards them, keeping his knees bent, his claws outward... he licked his fangs. Wanting to taste the blood of both of them. He snarled meanly. Water dripped off his hair, his latex jacket acting as a nice rain coat. It was slick out. Luckily his boots had plenty of traction on them. Leaping into the air in a lunge, his claws were poised for Gambit's chest, and his legs pumped him quickly into the air, much in the fashion as a cat pounces it's prey. The cards were on the top of his threat list, but he had a knack for dodging exploding objects.
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Post by Psylocke on Jan 11, 2005 22:04:25 GMT -5
Pushing off the ground with a muttering of curses under her breath, the telepath was now completely drenched in rainwater and mud. Long bits of once purple hair stained from the rain and earth hung in her face. The dark ringlets dripped water as her colorless eyes widened. He was retaliating already?! Psylocke dove lengthening her body like a knife and then tucking it into a ball as she rolled away from the oncoming Creed. As she landed and pivoted her upper torso, Bets flung a small throwing dagger from her wrist aimed for the madman’s kidney.
Betsey fought until her muscles burned battery acid and her lungs breathed fire… then she fought some more. With the contrast of flames to her left and cold non-stop rain over her figure and soft earth beneath her boots, Braddock knew this was a defining moment for the X-Men. The sole of her heavy combat style boot pushed in the mud as she kicked the knife deeper into Creed’s back. The monster howled in rage pushing the woman off of his prone figure and sliding her in Remy’s direction.
Sabretooth turned toward the pair pulling the knife from his back and tossing it into the earth, “Another time LeBeau…” he snarled, before running off. Braddock flicked mud from her fingers and slowly, the waterlogged, mud-splattered mutant stood.
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