Alternate Reality: Gambit
*Part Three* 

 "So which way?" Psylocke asked. Her own probes were doing little to learn the exact location because there were immense amounts of confusion running through not just the Marauders, but the X-Men as well. 

Cyclops considered the labyrinth of corridors that stood before them. It looked strikingly like the sub-levels of their base, with its metallic covering and small oval emergency lights lining intervals along the ceiling. But these lights were red, he thought, not orange like theirs. 

He scraped through his mind, searching for the rapport he shared with his wife which had been so abruptly cut off in the fight. He could feel Jean trying to correct the damage but her mind was on something else, something important and the repairs were taking the back seat to her concerns. 

At last he felt the barest hint of her direction, a fleeting glimpse that lasted less than a second. That was enough. He had seen it and he knew which direction it came from. He listened to his instincts and pointed to one that sat at the left center. 

"We go that way," Scott answered. 

"Are you certain?" Bishop queried. 

"Yes," though Scott wished he was as confident about that as he sounded. 

The ran down it, Bishop in front. He could absorb any kind of kinetic energy fired at him and rechannel it, making his body a convenient shield. 

But that kind of energy wasn't what came at them first. The floor beneath their feet began to shake violently as Arclight used her powers to flatten them to the floor. 

"Won't be gettin' away so easy this time," she crowed over the roar of her powers. She still fumed about how Cyclops had evaded her in the other fight and she liked to think that it was up to her to even things out by capturing him this time. 

Psylocke acted quickly. The Marauders, as luck would have, didn't own a copy of the machine used to dampen mutant powers. The sole piece of existing equipment no longer existed; smashed, burnt, and generally demolished when Bishop took his stored energy and blasted it. 

Elizabeth Braddock may not be the supreme telepathic power on the planet. But she was certainly no amateur. And she certainly wasn't about to let a petty mutant like Arclight to stop them from rescuing her friends. If Arclight had a problem with that rescue then Psylocke would make problems for her. Starting with a telepathic assault that Arclight had little means of protecting herself from. 

Arclight gave a scream as Psylocke darted across the rocking floor and hit her squarely with the point of her psychic knife. The knife cut through the layers of Arclight's mind, conscious and subconscious. The Marauder weakened under the tension and slipped into a state of unconsciousness, spiraling away from reality for a time. 

Once done, Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips and turned to her comrades. 

"Well, don' t just stand there," her British accent filled the corridor and echoed with a tinny sound. 

After saying her peace she continued without waiting to see if they were still coming. She knew they would be. 

Logan, of course, was still tangled in his battle with Sabretooth and probably wouldn't end until one was dead or they were forcefully removed from each other. Phoenix and Gambit were greatly slowed down by the extra weight that Warren provided. The winged X-Man still hadn't come back to himself and Jean was becoming seriously worried about her friend. They had known each other for more ten years and had always been the best of friends. Seeing him like this disturbed her. 

Gambit stopped at an unmarked door and carefully transferred the weight of him to Jean. Phoenix watched him move through the door, not sure what she should think of this man or his actions. She could read little from his mind, his shields were far too closed for her to pass. Shields that strong could mean a number of things from great trauma to psionic abilities and it was impossible to tell without knowing him better. Not without risking the ethics of receiving permission from the person first that Professor Xavier had taught her. 

She didn't follow him in, choosing instead to make telepathic contact with the others while he went in for whatever it was he was in for. It hadn't even occurred to her that his intentions within that room might not be benevolent to her teammates. Jean leaned Archangel against the wall lightly but didn't move her arm from around him. She might have to move quickly again and having to pick him up again would be more time than she could afford to waste. 

#Scott!# her joyous telepathic outcry reverberated through their rapport. She felt sweet relief and couldn't figure out whether it was his or hers and then realized it was both. 

#Jean! Are you alright?! Did he hurt you!? Where are you?!# 

Those questions and more flooded into her mind all at once. She strained to sort through them and answered them. #I'm fine, no he didn't, and I have no clue whatsoever.# 

She felt him smile, grateful that she was alright. 

#Hold on, hon. We've got Hank, Sam and Bobby. We just need to find Rogue and Archangel.# 

#Warren's here with me. But he doesn't look so good, Scott.# 

#Hank can check him when we find you. He better be fine. You all better be or I swear I'm going to rip Sinister's head off, Jean,# he paused. # Have you seen Rogue?# 

#Still looking.# 

#Right. Contact me if you find her and I'll do the same if we find her first.# 

Remy swung the cell door open wide and stepped in. Rogue was somewhere under that blanket but it was so bundled up he couldn't make out her figure. He lifted the blanket to find her curled on her side, avoiding lying on the damaged arm. 

She looked so peaceful lying there, even with the bloody bandage that covered half her left arm. He almost didn't want to wake her. Reaching into the pouch at his belt he pulled out the small oddly shaped key and unlocked the collar, sliding it off her thin neck. He brushed the strands of hair gently back as they became caught in the latch. 

Well, he had to wake her up sometime. Remy shook her gently, careful not to annoy her arm. She bolted into a sitting position immediately, startling him and he jumped back a bit. She blinked those green eyes at him as though still seeing through a dream, then he came into focus. 

"What--" she started. 

"Come on," he placed his hands under her elbows and lifted her to standing. 

"What are ya doing?" she asked in bewilderment. It wasn't suppose to happen like this. The bad guys didn't help the good guys. So what was he doing? She felt stronger, not nearly so light headed as she had before. She lifted her hand to her throat and felt the absence of the inhibitor collar. 

"You don' wanna stay in here, do ya?" he asked her, that wry grin coming over his mouth. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he smiled. But these people made him smile. He wondered why. 

"Duh! That a stupid question," she said in 'Jubilee' manner. "Course Ah don't wanna stay here." 

He grinned at her again, not understanding the reference that she made of Jubilee but finding amusing nonetheless. "Well come on, den." 

He reached for her arm again and she pulled back. He didn't have gloves on. "Careful. My power'll drain the life outta ya if ya touch my skin!" 

He blinked at her, then nodded his head. Instead of her arm, he gripped at her gloved hand and led her out of the cell's cold confinement. 

"Jean!" Rogue cried happily. 

Jean turned to see Rogue come out with the stranger. 

"Rogue! You're okay." Phoenix, remembering her husband's request, sent him a telepathic 'sticky note' to let him know she was found. 

"Come on," Gambit said impatiently. "We gotta get ya'll outta here." 

He was already back under Warren's arm and prepared to leave. 

"Ya ain't comin' with us?" Rogue asked. 

"Ya make it sound like I'd be welcome, chere," He mumbled. 

Jean and Rogue didn't say anything and they began moving again. How were they supposed to answer that one. He was probably right. Jean knew Scott wouldn't like the idea of him coming with them when they left, but what did he think he was going to do? The Marauders would kill him for helping the X-Men. 

She suddenly realized she had no idea what she was supposed to call this man. He hadn't told any of them his name or any form of code name. Nor had she heard any of the others refer to him. 

"What are we supposed to call you?" she asked over Warren's owed head. 

He jerked his eyes away from the focus he had before them. "Call me Gambit, I guess." 

"You guess?" Phoenix raised an eyebrow. Remy shrugged. 

The movement made Warren move, too. He was coming around and didn't like the way he felt. Warren groaned and opened his eyes into slits. 

"Warren? War, say something," Jean said. 

"How 'bout ..'ouch'," he replied in a graveled voice that sounded the pain he had. He still needed their support walking but now he shuffled his feet with them, making it easier. Rogue flew in front of them, her brunette hair with its white streak waving behind her. 

Warren became aware of who was carrying him. Jean and a Marauder. He lifted his head and stared blearily at the Cajun.

"You..." he said in disbelief. 

"Me," Gambit confirmed. "An' don't ask. I'll confuse myself." 

They two groups caught up with each other, each trying to avoid Marauders, at a crossing point of five main corridors. There were several accusing, confused, and concerned looks exchanged between various X-Men and the one apparently ex-Marauder. 

Gambit slipped out from Archangel arm to allow Beast more room to look him over. 

"He should be alright. But he needs time to heal himself. Classic electrocution symptoms." 

"I feel anything but 'classic', Hank," Warren mumbled lifting a hand to his aching head. 

Psylocke knelt by him, resting her hand on his shoulder. 

They heard a deep rumbling growl and fell to their fighting stances on instinct. Bishop had his gun trained on the opening of the hallway from which Gambit, Phoenix, Archangel, and Rogue had come from. 

The tension eased when Wolverine came through, claws extended and bloodied, blood splattered on his uniform. 

"They're trailin' us. Can't go back that way," he informed. 

"And we can't return that way either," Bishop pointed to the corridor he and the rest had come down. "They are following through there as well." 

"Where's your ticket outta here?" Gambit asked. 

Iceman looked at him curiously. "We came in through a main hangar bay," he finally answered. 

"Hangar three," Hank said, glancing up from his examination. Gambit checked the numbers above the doors in the tunnels. 

"Ya picked a bad place. Ya can't go either of de ways ya came and dose two tunnels are dead ends. Ya gotta get through Essex's main lab. Dat's gonna be Hell if he in dere which probably where he is." 

"We fight our way through, then," Logan snapped. "Spinster's got power but he ain't gonna be able to stop all of us." 

"Slow us down, perhaps, but not stop us," Storm agreed. 

"Let's go, people," Scott ordered and Gambit led them down the appropriate tunnel. 

"They headed this way," Sabretooth snarled, through the blood in his mouth. His healing factor was racing through his systems, correcting every ounce of damage Logan had inflicted. He regained consciousness about two minutes after Logan had knocked him down. Wolverine could have finally ended it. But he didn't. Instead he went to help his X-punks. To Sabretooth it confirmed his suspicions that Logan had become soft. 

"How you figure?" Blockbuster pounded the tops of his fists together repeatedly, sorely wishing that he had an X-Man between those fists as the crashed together. The other Marauders were with them with the exception of Scalphunter; they still hadn't found him. 

"Cajun's bleedin'. I can smell it. He left a neat little trail," Sabretooth sucked in another lungful of the iron smell of blood. "They're headin' for hangar three, I'll bet. Straight through Sinister's lab an' inta their fancy schmancy jet. We cut'em off in the lab easy." 

As it turned out, Sinister was in his lab, doing more of the computer systems checks he had Gambit working on earlier. He knew who to blame for the sudden virus he found floating through all his computers. How annoying. 

So naturally when the cause for the virus rushed in at the sides of the X-Men, he was the first one Sinister fires on. 

Gambit ducked and rolled out of the way of the broad energy that sliced through his previous position and tried to follow him. Remy was quick but he was certain that Sinister could be faster. The X-Men scattered as the Marauders poured in through connecting corridors on all sides. Avoiding a major fight wasn't what was going to happen. 

Rogue slammed her fists into Blockbuster's gut as soon as the lug got close enough. She waited until he committed to the attack he focused on her before ramming him into the nearest wall with great force. Cyclops shot down Vertigo with a single optic blast. Her nauseating powers would seriously hurt the X-Mens' chances if given the chance. She fell on top of Arclight who stumbled under her unconscious body, trying to push her to the side so she could get in the fight herself. 

Arclight spotted her target moving away from the fight carrying a hardly mobile Archangel. She flipped through the other pair off that had formed between the X-Men and drove towards Psylocke and Archangel. Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks as Arclight dropped neatly before her, blocking the path to the Blackbird jet. It was the safest place for Warren in his state. 

"Where you think you're goin'?" Arclight asked in an innocent tone. 

"Out of my way," Elizabeth replied in a cool tone. "I knocked you down once and will do it again easily. Your petty need to avenge you embarrassment earlier isn't going to help anything. Least of all you health." 

Arclight didn't listen and came towards Psylocke. The telepathic ninja dodged her, letting Warren slide gently to the floor in one clean motion. With Archangel out of the way she could move freely and she drove her psychic knife deeper into the woman's mind than she had the first time. She let out a frustrated cry as she fought through the disorientation of entering another's perceptions. When it was finished Arclight wouldn't wake up. Ever. 

 Psylocke picked Archangel back up off the floor and regained her path to the Blackbird. He groaned, being moved to fast. 

"You kill'er?" he asked. 

"Yes." 

Warren said nothing more, being too tired to argue with it. He knew Elizabeth had changed. Once, her life had been threatened, she waiting in the infirmary at the mansion with the life seeping away from her. Warren and Logan went on a mission to save her and obtained an elixir from the Crimson dawn. It saved her life, yes. But it altered her in more ways than just the red mark that had crossed over her left eye. She could melt through shadows if she chose. He'd rarely seen her do it but she could. Her senses were heightened and her attitude different. She still loved Warren and he her. The change in attitude hadn't been that drastic. But part of her worked closer and closer to the assassin that Kwannon had been. And that worried him. 

She lay him down in the back of the Blackbird on one of the med-beds after reaching it with little more trouble. He fell asleep almost instantly. She gazed down at his face, wondering what he dreamed about, if he was dreaming at all, but decided not to intrude with her telepathy. There was a large scale fight going on out there and her friends would need her help. She locked the Blackbird entrance and, feeling that he would be safe, went back. 

A fire broke out in the lab, spouting chemical flames everywhere. 

Bishop fired energy out as quickly as his body would rechannel it. His plasma rifle had run out of ammo and hung in the strap across his back. He could recharge it if they got home. Sinister had fired at him once and that single blast had been enough to fill his stores for energy. Bishop wondered what a blast with that much energy would do against someone who didn't have his ability to absorb it. Harpoon was trying to get at him but the Beast took care of him. He used a simple move, simply lifted Harpoon from the ground and swinging him into the wall. Having been thrown around quite a bit recently, he lost consciousness. 

Storm and Jean were airborne, the former firing lightening bolts from her fingertips na the latter going at the minds against them and working with the minds of her friends. Rogue and Cannonball were also airborne but rather than staying at one elevation, they dove repeatedly into the fray, bombing their targets with fists, immense strength and the occasional warning of 'bombs away'. 

Logan did his usual good job of tearing things apart. It was interesting to see him work. Work was what he called it at least. He looked like an animal gone wild when he was like this. Some rabid beast out to tear the night apart. But he was a master of so many things and fighting styles. Things that required discipline and self control, which he had. He wasn't an animal and he knew it as well as fought to keep it that way. Iceman was near him, packing what Logan left behind in nice neat little ice-cages which were exquisite replications of the cells they had been kept in. 

Sinister watched the scenes unfold around him with a growing sense of anger and regret. He regretted the loss of a weapon that he had believed would assist him in way the others had failed to do. And Gambit had brought him information the others had no access to. As well as helping bring the X-Men here in the first place. But now, they wouldn't be out and the other X-Men wouldn't be here beating his Marauders to the ground if he hadn't bugged the security systems along with all the others or sent a scrambled message to the X-Men. 

And Sinister didn't like betrayals. No one crossed him without paying for it. 

Gambit was pinned against Sabretooth, mimicking the fight he and Wolverine had done earlier. Gambit didn't have the same skills or the senses Logan had but he was mad right now. If anyone could piss him off it was Creed. 

Creed slashed out at him and Remy back flipped to avoid it. He made sure he was at a good distance and let loose, firing the playing cards he had hidden in a pouch on his belt. They flew in the air, catching Creed in the face, exploding as they released the pent up kinetic energy he had charged into them. 

Sabretooth howled in rage, his face a mess of burns but healing, visibly stitching themselves together. He dived at the Cajun, cutting into his chin as he ducked under the swinging arm of claws. 

"I've been wantin' ta throw down with you ever since what happened in Paris, Gumbo," Creed grinned. "'Member Paris, boy? You an that frail, Darceneaux. I had real fun droppin' her off the tower a'Notre Dame, boy. Her an' that brother a'yers." 

Dat's IT!!! 

Unwilling to take any more, Creed's attempt to make him angry succeeding, Remy ripped out a retractable bo staff and spun it in full circle. When he stopped it was at its full length of five feet and Remy began his own attack, rather than doing defensive work. His anger was funny sometimes. In one fight it would make him act rashly and become clumsy. Sometimes he could fight better if he had anger to fuel him. Normally Creed made him clumsy. 

However, he wasn't seventeen anymore, as he had been the first time he met Sabretooth in Paris. Genny Darceneaux hadn't been the love of his life as he had told her, but he had developed a liking for her as a friend. When Sabretooth murdered her and nearly killed his brother, it cemented the hate that ran between him and Creed. Sinister had helped him hone his skills, another tool of binding Essex had  used to keep him in line. He knew how to use anger, to drain it into the maneuvers he pulled off. And he hadn't had a crack at Creed for so long it was all pent up inside him. Almost to the boiling point. Now it simmered over the edge and he rushed at Creed with the bo staff and charged playing cards in either hand. 

Sabretooth rolled out from under the bow staff that reached for the back of his neck, gripping it in the middle. Gambit's foot came and smashed his ribs, causing him to release the staff but certainly not putting him out. Cards bombarded the floor beneath his feet and he lost his balance, falling into a crouch and his claws shredded through the air for Gambit's legs. Remy back flipped again and felt skin open behind his knees as he moved away. 

Remy pushed off the ground, using the staff to give him more elevation and kicked Creed's jaw, breaking it. Creed returned the favor and kicked out into his ribs. Remy heard something break and tried to get his breath through the shattered rib. 

He pulled three cards from the pouch on his belt and aimed carefully, one by one. 

"Dis is for Genny and my brother!" He threw the first two in quick successions. 

Holding the last up so that it could be seen clearly, he glared down at Creed. 

"An' dis one's for me!" 

Gambit could sense the air as it distorted with the amount of energy that had been fired at him. Remy threw the card at Sinister with all his might, and  tried to move out of the way but wasn't fast enough. 

The yellow tinted beam that Sinister fired from his palm burned into his side and shoulder, increasing the pain in his bicep where Scalphunter cut him. He couldn't bear to hold it in this time and he screamed as the impact threw him twenty feet from them. 

He rolled to a stop, jamming into shelves that house more of Sinister's nasty chemicals and equipment, most of which were burning in their containers and flaming whatever parts of the shelves that would burn. It began to tilt, slowly at first and then falling faster, picking up momentum as it fell. A moment later and it would crush him under its weight of metals and scalding him with the vials of many different liquids on it. Remy barely saw it, too far into the agony he felt in his body. He could smell his blood soaking into his uniform making it impossibly more black than it already was. Somehow this wasn't how he pictured himself ending his work with Essex. But it seemed fitting to be destroyed physically by those who had nearly destroyed him mentally. 

A flash of green billeted under the shelves seconds before they crushed their target, lifting the still form out from under them and into her arms. The shelves crashed into the pool of blood and spilling its contents. The fires spread across the floor, forcing Sinister and Sabretooth back. 

Feeling very put off, Sinister began to retreat. There were things in here that would blow the whole compound if they were ignited and there were too many individual fires to put out. 

Rogue landed beside Beast, her bloody bundle cradled close to her. She lay Gambit on the floor and Hank looked him over, not liking what his first glance told him. Rogue stood over them, watching but not sure what else to do. 

"How bad is he?" she asked when the suspense finally became too much. 

"He's breathing. I might be able to help if we can get him to the Shi'ar equipment," Hank answered without taking his eyes from the Cajun. "There nothing I can do for him here." 

"Are you suggesting we take him with us?" Cyclops asked incredulously. 

"We can't leave him here," Hank insisted. 

"We can't endanger the X-Men by bringing him with us." The other X-Men shuffled towards them, the battle over with the retreat of the Marauders. There were cuts and bruises and Cannonball looked like he had a broken arm. That seemed to be it. 

"Scott, as a medical doctor I simply cannot allow him to remain here to die. I will not leave him here," Hank persisted. 

"He helped us out, Cyke," Logan pointed out. "Fine way a'repayin' him by lettin' him die." 

Logan paused and lifted his nose to the air. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. "We gotta get outta here soon. I smell somethin' nasty an' ya can bet this whole place is gonna blow. Cyke?" 

"Alright, bring him with us. But I don't want to see or hear him. Somebody has to keep watch on him at all times." 

Many of the X-Men nodded and Beast lifted Gambit into his broad arms, bounding to the Blackbird with the other X-Men. 

The base erupted into a magnificent fire ball ten minutes after the Blackbird flew away. 

The first thing that alerted Archangel to the fact that they were no longer in Sinister's base was the strange feeling of elevation. Even though the cabin in the Blackbird appeared not to move from inside, Archangel had an inborn sense of when he was flying, whether it was under the power of his wings or otherwise. 

He was lying on one of the med-tables and he sat up, supressing a groan at how stiff and sore he felt. Vaguely he remembered being electrocuted. Other fuzzy images replayed in his head, mostly of Jean, Logan and another man carrying him away from Sinister. He glanced around to see the same man lying on the bed diagonal from his own. Bandages covered the entire side of his body and an oxygen mask hissed away at its chore. Hank hunched over a clip board in front of him. 

Warren tried to swing his feet over the side. 

"Ow.." the ache in his legs manifested into a small pain. Hank turned away from his preoccupation and gave Warren a toothy grin when he saw him. 

"It lives," he mono-toned in what Warren guessed was supposed to be a Frankenstien impression. 

"It hurts," Warren griped. 

"I would think so after that hearty helping of electricity you were belted with," Hank replied a bit more seriously. The figure on the bed beside him stirred slightly but made no sound. Hank looked back at him with concern. 

"Who is he?" Warren asked. 

"Jean and Rogue said his name was Gambit. Though I suspect that he has another name to be called by." 

"Rogue doesn't." 

"Point taken." 

"Was anyone else hurt?" Archangel asked, glancing around at the other, blessedly empty, meb-tables. 

"Just a fractured arm which was temporarily set until we reach home. Your impromptu barbecue," Hank was ticking them off on his fuzzy blue fingers. "There are several unfortunate bruises and cuts. But the worst would have to be this man, and, up until now, you." 

"He's a Marauder." 

"Not anymore, apparently." 

*End Part Three* 
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