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Disclaimers: Doing this only for therapeutic value. Not making any money off it. All the familiar characters in this fic belong to Marvel & Stan Lee. We're broke, so suing us would just be a comedy waiting to happen.
Notes: This is an AU because empathy and spatial awareness are just too cool for Remy not to have.
Summary: A female demon has been released from a centuries old stasis pod and feeds on the power of mutants in her strange new world. Can the X-men stop her before she and her progeny lead mutant kind to eternal damnation?
Warnings: We don't know French or Cajun French, so our apologies to people of those areas if we butchered the language in this fic. If we put any in this fic, it came from online translators and La library archives. Because this is an AU, some of the characters in this story may seem OOC. Also, we don't know the occult and apologize to anyone we may offend.
Words between / / are thoughts
or mental speak
Words between * *
are flashbacks
Words between ~ ~
are lyrics to any songs that may be used in the fic
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CH 1
Xavier Institute, present day
And in other news, another mutant body was discovered today in the Central Park east side. As with several others over the past few weeks, the unidentified mutant was male. No apparent signs of struggle could be found, yet the body was once again emaciated in appearance. Police are not commenting as of yet. But sources inside the department have indicated the possibility of a serial killer. The chief has refused to confirm rumors of possible racist motifs in the light of the recent re-organization of the Friends of Humanity…
“Cut that shit off. It’s giving me a headache.” Wolverine turned the page on the paper he was reading, ignoring the red-eyed thief casually lounging on the couch beside his chair.
Remy smirked and turned to gaze at the profile of his lover as the older man studied the newsprint. “You know, chere, dere’s ot’er more…pleasurable… t’ings we could do if you be bored.” He drawled, leering at the feral with undisguised lust in crimson orbs.
“Is that all ya ever think about Gumbo.” Logan snorted. “Jeeze, yer a horny bastard.” But Logan couldn’t quite hide the smirk that played across his lips at the Cajun’s suggestion and Remy was quick to spot it.
Standing in a languid, fluid motion, the thief rose and swaggered sensuously over to the other mutant, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes; his breathing increasing as well as his heartbeat. He knew the picture he was presenting to the feral as he stood tall and elegant over the seated man; his tight brown leather pants tucked into knee high brown biker boots, the buckles rhythmically clinking as he moved. His button-up shirt was slightly un-tucked at one side, and his copper swathe of hair ruffled, yet even in his unkempt state he still exuded that all too familiar sexuality. Remy pressed Logan a little with his charm, surrounding all of Logan’s senses in an attempt to overwhelm the man. Reaching down he snatched the newspaper out of his lover’s hand, then smoothly shifted his body to stand astride the older man’s lap, deftly releasing the first two buttons on the feral’s shirt before Logan had time to think.
“Whatcha doing Cajun?” Logan asked tightly, doing his best to control himself in the face of the obviously wanton display. Lowering himself down, controlling taut leg muscles, Remy slid onto Logan’s thighs, moving to within a hairs breadth of his lover’s face. Logan’s voice wavered as he continued to admonish the boy without any sincerity. “Remy, we’re in the damn den. Anyone could walk….” His scolding was interrupted by the sensual slide of the thief’s body against his own as Remy leaned down to lick at the soft patch of skin behind the feral’s ear. A growling moan escaped Logan’s throat as the two sat face to face, Remy’s groin rubbing hard against him in a delicious tease.
“All I can t’ink ‘bout is you, Logan.” Remy continued moving slowly against the feral, mixing his scent with his mate like a cat; a husky purr emanating from his throat. “Besides, mon amour, you know you like it too. I can feel you want me as bad as I want you.”
Logan reached around and grabbed his lover’s ass, kneading the firm flesh in response to the stimuli being offered. He didn’t try to be as suave as the boy when it came to opening a shirt. Logan simply snatched either side and pulled, popping off almost all of the buttons to slide the shirt off one creamy shoulder. He started to lean forward with a growl to capture those luscious, inviting lips when something caught his attention. Quickly, Logan pulled the boy’s shirt back up and started pushing at Remy in an attempt to remove him from his lap. Confused, Remy’s brows drew together and his mouth opened to ask a question, when Logan cut him off. “Get off!” He hissed “Get up damn it” he barked again only moments before their stoic leader entered the room.
“Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking for….” Scott trailed off at the sight that greeted him. He knew the two men were intimate with each other, but it was not something he enjoyed witnessing. Not only was it completely unnatural to him, but he was also irritated at the twinge of jealousy he felt whenever they indulged in public displays of affection. He had been alone for too long.
Logan stood up quickly, dumping the Cajun unceremoniously to the floor and unconsciously wiping his pants as if to remove unseen dirt. Remy frowned up at his lover, watching the other man come to attention as he always did when Scott was around. It wasn’t something that either man discussed often, but Remy knew that the feral had long harbored feelings not only for Jean, the telepath who had long since been lost to them, but also for her widow, the tall, aloof Scott Summers who now stood before them. What the older man saw in him, Remy wasn’t sure. The team leader was constantly uptight; attempting to rule his group with an iron fist and it irked the Cajun on a regular basis that Logan could fuck him with such passion, but still treat him like a shameful secret whenever others were around.
Scott cleared his throat. “If you two are quite finished with…whatever….there is a meeting in the war room in twenty.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, a look of disgust on his face.
“Better get moving Cajun.” Logan glanced down at his lover for a moment before following the team leader out of the room, pretending not to see the hurt look in the thief’s eyes.
From his sprawled position on the floor, Remy blew the hair out of his eyes in exasperation as he watched the retreating form of the team leader and his lover. “Talk about bad timing,” He groused. He stood up and took a moment to glance down at his torn shirt, his chest bared for the world to see. For all of half a second he thought about going to his room to change in order to present himself professionally at the meeting. “Eh, to hell wit’ it.” He shrugged before following the other team members. He openly stared at Logan’s backside as he trailed behind the older man, a smirk firmly in place as the Canadian unconsciously flexed and bunched each cheek as he walked. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing the Cajun had ever seen, and he had seen quite a bit in his short life.
Scott entered the war room first, immediately catching the attention of the Ice Queen as she gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes from the papers she had been reading. Her sights had been set on the impervious team leader for some time, desperately wanting to ease the loneliness that constantly flowed from him. It was just a matter of time before he would see her as an acceptable replacement for his beloved Jean. If she could just make him see…..her smile faltered slightly at the man entering after Scott. She had found that the darkly brooding Wolverine also piqued her sexual appetite at times, but in rather a different way to the refined Cyclops. Nevertheless she couldn’t quite understand what Logan saw in the piece of trash that sauntered in behind the two attractive men.
As Remy walked into the room behind Logan, Emma wrinkled her nose in open disgust at the half opened shirt and general dishevelled appearance of the Cajun. "Well, so nice of you to join us Remy. You look like a slut today."
Remy cocked his head and smirked. "T'anks twat. So you don't mind dat I borrowed your look?"
There was no love lost between the telepath and the Cajun. Her general hatred for the other mutant stemmed from her inability to read him, to get into his mind, or control him in any kind of way. “At least I keep my assets covered. You have to leave something to the imagination.”
Remy grinned and pointedly looked to her voluminous breasts fairly bursting at the seams of a too tight, low cut blouse. “Tsk, tsk, You call dat keeping your assets covered? Dat be a hafass job if I ever saw one. Maybe you should keep your imagination for da bedroom...from what I hear, your sex life could use it.”
Emma fumed, face turning an interesting shade of purple when Scott interrupted the verbal sword play. “Enough. Gambit, sit down.”
The assembled team of X-Men found their places around the war room table, opening their individual folders containing the information to be addressed in the meeting as Emma cleared her throat to begin the briefing. “Let’s begin then,” Emma stated in an authoritative way, glancing around the room to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “I’m sure you’ve all seen on the news that there have been a series of attacks on mutants living in the El Barrio area of East Harlem. They all have the same M.O. and seem to have had the life sucked right out of them.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Scott and I have had a little chat about it, haven’t we Scott?” She addressed the team commander with a lascivious smile. Remy snorted at the sickeningly blatant display causing Emma’s head to snap round, fixing the Cajun with two icy blue eyes. “You have something to add, LeBeau?” She asked, her tone changing from hot seductress to cold, commanding school marm.
“Non, fille, Remy got nuttin’ ta add.”
“Well kindly keep your grunts and groans to whatever it is you get up to in your bedroom.” She sniped, flashing Logan a bitter glance.
Remy eyes flashed in amusement briefly as a smirk made its way to his lips; she couldn’t rile him, no matter how she tried.
With a brief but somewhat pregnant pause Emma continued. “Scott and I both agree that this needs investigating.” Emma turned back to Scott for further support.
“Yes,” Scott added, “from the limited information we have gleaned from police reports, these attacks on mutants – mainly male – began several months ago.”
“So how come we only just heard about it?” Logan interrupted.
“We can only assume the police were trying to deal with what they thought at first were just random attacks. Now it seems like they think it could be the work of a serial killer.”
“Or someone with a Mutie grudge.” Logan muttered under his breath.
“Well we can’t rule anything out Logan.” Emma replied tersely.
“It is possible the FOH could be behind this, so we need to proceed with caution.” Scott interjected.
“That’s why I intend to send teams out to investigate…help the police with their enquiries shall we say.” Emma added with a slow smile.
Hank was reviewing the folder thoughtfully during the various exchanges and laid it down on the table as he lifted his gaze to the group in general. “I am quite curious as to the state of the bodies. There is not enough information here to form any kind of sound hypothesis, a fact that will need to be remedied quite quickly.” He turned a pointed gaze towards the resident thief before continuing. “However, I am of the opinion that it is unlikely to be the Friends of Humanity as previously speculated. At least, not based on our past dealings with them.” As a few of the team members started to mumble in disagreement, commenting amongst themselves and out loud, Hank raised his hand to silence them. “I am not suggesting we rule that group of individuals out of our investigation. Merely stating my opinion. These bodies look completely drained, yet there are no signs of exsanguination.”
“What does that mean?” Storm questioned.
Hank removed his glasses, cleansing the lenses as he turned towards the weather goddess. “It means the bodies were not drained of their blood. That suggests some other means of death, possibly by mutant powers. It is difficult to see how a human with even the latest medical devices could yield such results without leaving any trace of a wound on the body.”
Cyclops stood and rested his hands on the edge of the table. “Nevertheless, all avenues must be explored. No possible suspect should be overlooked simply because we do not have all the why’s and wherefore’s yet.”
“Hank, we would like you to hold the fort here. Deal with any info that comes in from the teams.” Emma announced firmly.
The fur-covered man they knew as Beast nodded in agreement and adjusted the large pair of half-moon spectacles resting on his nose.
“Logan, Ro…and Remy you take….. the El Barrio area, between 1st Avenue and 5th and the area around East Meadow where the bodies were found.” Emma announced. “Scott, Bobby and Rogue you cover 110th to 116th Street and the north end of Central Park. That should give us a wide enough spread to begin with. See what you can find. Anything that the police might have missed. Logan, see what you can sniff out.”
“No problem, the scent’ll still be pretty strong. Shouldn’t take me long.”
“Well as long as you don’t get distracted.” Emma added scathingly as she flashed a look at Remy.
“An’ what will you be doing Frosty? Painting your pretty toe nails?” Remy quipped as he rose from his seat.
Emma sucked in a breath; she was getting bored with the infuriating Cajun and was seriously considering turning his mind to mush.
“Emma will be conducting a search using Cerebro, Remy, and co-ordinating the search from here.” Scott interjected.
Emma flashed a smile at Remy but the venom in her eyes was plain to see.
“Right well you all have your orders people.” Scott commanded. “We leave in 10 minutes.”
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Translations:
Twat, from an online Cajun
dictionary, means a person or thing of derogatory nature, also rear end or butt
Hafass, from an online Cajun dictionary, means low grade
half-hearted effort or inferior
fille means young woman
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