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Hours before he stood in the middle of the bathroom looking at his reflection in a cracked mirror. The walls have peeling wall paper and there is some sort of slow leak at the base of either the sink or the toilet. Such is life in Mutant Town and for the woman he chose to go home with.
Remy LeBeau shrugs into the dress shirt, button his cuffs, folds his bow tie neatly, and later slinks into his black jacket. He kisses the young mutant woman goodbye and both know they won't ever meet up again.
An hour and a half later he's seated on the upper edges of Manhattan society, rubbing elbows with businessmen from around the city. His eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses which both hide his mutant gene from the other people at the table, and hide where he's looking.
"Mr. LeBeau," the dealer says. "It is to you. Fold or call?"
*
Ava wouldn't usually be in a place like this. It's a little more high society than her usual crowd. But she recently decided to try SHIELD. Peggy said she'd have to work her way up like any other agent, of course. But the girl is…stubborn. And besides, she has spy knowledge. Stolen experience. So maybe she can just…prove herself a little bit.
So when she heard whispers about a card game, she managed to weasel her way into a job serving drinks. Sure, she's a little young for it, and looks younger than she is. But then again, most of the people at these games aren't squeamish about young girls. In the uniform, tight black cocktail dress, she lingers by the table, holding out a tray with flutes of champagne.
*
"Call," Remy says quietly as he sets his cards back down upon the table as a small gasp is let out by several of the grey hairs at the table. Le Beau's sunglasses never leave the man with the black tuxedo with black undershirt. His hair is slicked and his beard is perfect. Black beady eyes take in the Cajun, but Remy's foe remains silent.
Le Beau smacks his lips and reaches back over his chair to grab a champagne flute from Ava's tray and gives her a nod. "Darlin."
*
Ava smiles faintly at Remy as she moves around the table, glancing briefly at the cards in each hand as she goes. She could be a little more smiley about it, but then she doesn't look like she's being forced into this, either. As she rounds the table, leaning over to pass a glass to another player, the man reaches out to cop a feel across her backside.
There's a slight crackling sound when he gets a little too friendly and he pulls his hand back with a wince. "Sorry, sir, these uniforms get awful static," Ava says with another of those small smiles.
*
Remy makes a ornery snort towards the man who grabbed Ava and gives a shake of the head, clearly disgusted. It seems Le Beau doesn't respect his foe.
The river comes; the 8 of Spades.
Remy's opponent immediately makes a call, "All in." He shoves his large stack of chips into the center of the table and all is quiet.
"Guess ole Remy should call. Lookin' like you put me all in, mon ami." The cajun begins to slide in his smaller pile into the center.
*
Ava steps behind Remy's opponent, brushing a hand over his shoulder as she picks up his empty glass. If it gives her a good look at his cards, well. All the better. No harm, after all. There's a glance to Remy when she straightens, setting the empty glass on her tray and coming around to circle the table again."
"Smoke?" she offers. There are cigarettes and cigars on the tray as well, the finest Cubans smuggled into the county."
*
"Would love a cigarette, ma petite jolie. What brands you hidin' over dere?" Le Beau smiles at her as she walks close to him, staying remarkably relaxed over what is likely to end up in a swing of fortune thousands and thousands of dollars.
*
"You name it, we've got it. If it's not on the tray, we can get some from the back." Like everything here, Ava's smile adds as she perches on the arm of his chair, presumably to give him a better look at the tray and its contents. "I'd really recommend the cigars, though. Hand-rolled, I'm told."
Under the cover of the tray, where it rests of her arm and his, her finger taps against the wood just enough to transmit a few vibrations. It's faint, and it's morse code, and there's no knowing if he even knows morse code. But it's his opponent's hand, either way.
*
Unfortunately for Remy, he has some weaknesses. First, he has a soft spot in his heart for pretty red heads. Second, he does not know Morse Code. Third?
His opponent has a winning hand.
There's a cheer among the crowd as the dapper man in black wins thousands of dollars worth of Gambit's money. Le Beau, to his credit, takes it in stride, seemingly more interested in the girl and the cigarettes. "Well," he says with a smile, "Looks like I be needin' some more luck, so maybe de Lucky Strikes."
The man in black gives a fist pump and there's all sorts of high fives and all of that. That is until, one of the workers in a white shirt and a bowtie comes running into the room. "Wait! His money! It's fake!"
Everyone immediately hushes. "LeBeau! It's counterfeit."
Remy shrugs his shoulders and makes a face at Ava as if to say, I dunno, just before things are about to hit the fan.
*
"Too bad, sakharok," Ava murmurs with a rueful smile as the hand goes down. "But I'll get you those Lucky Strikes." She sets a hand to his shoulder with a wink as she slides off the arm of the chair, only to freeze there when the foul cry goes up.
She turns a dry, chiding look on the man in the chair - the sort that fully expects the very shrug she gets. But she also doesn't immediately move away. She's got a cover to maintain, so she can't go throwing in for the guy, even if he's clearly more decent than his opponent. Even if she appreciates a good trick.
But she can be an obstruction.
*
"Get him!" yells one of the men. As they begin to make their way around the table, Remy makes a run for it. There's a side door that he has an inside step on and he takes it.
As he reaches the door, it happens to be locked with a weak handle lock. It's enough, however, to hold him back.
CRASH! Four men crash into Remy hard enough to burst the door open and send them sprawling out to the alleyway!
*
Ava lets out a shriek as the men go barreling past, raising her hands and scrambling in such a way that she manages to trip two more before stumbling through the doorway herself right behind the four after Remy.
Again, she stumbles artfully, just enough to fall into the door and push it closed again while making a panicked grab for the last man in the crowd.
That's when the flailing ends, though. A twist, a slap, and a crack, and she has his gun one hand, her other on his chest just as she directs an electric charge through him. That should put him down for the count.
*
POP!
There's a small explosion of some sort from underneath Remy that doesn't really hurt the men, but it scares the living crap out of them. They begin to reel away from Remy. "He's a mutant! He's a mutant!" one of them begins to yell. His sunglasses are broken and lying in the street, revealing his red and black eyes. "Ain't got dem smokes hand do ya, cherie?"
*
Ava raises the stolen gun, aiming at the other three men. When she pulls the trigger three times in quick succession, though, it isn't bullets that fly. It's a blue-white light, like a bolt of electricity, before she turns a wry smile on Remy. "You should go," she suggests, tilting her head toward the fire escape of the adjacent building. "Two buildings east, one north, and there's an alley that lets out into a night market with enough of a crowd to disappear into."
*
"Guessin' dat be a no, den," Remy says with a smile. His head tilts toward the side, "Y'should come wit me, cherie. Good in a fight, ya seem like you'd be ready an willin' for some fun." Pause. "I mean in a fight."
*
"I don't even know you," Ava laughs, taking a step back to grab a broken piece of pallet and wedge the door closed to buy another minute. "But you seem like objectively a better person than the mob in there." And potentially more interesting, at least. She could always claim she'd been taken hostage if she has to go back.
Making her decision, she ducks behind a dumpster to grab a duffel bag, kicking off the heels and leaving them behind with a nod toward the ladder. "Talk on the other side."
Girl was prepared.
*
"Damn," Remy says as he takes off in the direction she noted. "I could really go for a smoke." But, being on foreign territory, he decides he'd better listen to her and stays mum.
*
It's just like Ava said: up the fire escape, two buildings east, one north, down that fire escape, and the pair is moving through what looks like a market or a street festival, lit by streetlights and generator-powered lights at the stalls. Once they're in the cover of the crowd, she opens the duffel bag enough to tug out an oversized coat, pulling it on over the dress.
"I'm Ava," she introduces herself belatedly, apparently unbothered by the lack of shoes.
*
"Remy," the Cajun responds as he leaves his bow tie on the ground as they continue to walk. "You seem like a girl who like to take charge, non? Where we headin?" After a brief pause, but before she can answer, he adds, "An' what was girl like you doin' in a place like dat, hmm?"
*
"It was work," Ava shrugs. "I have a friend who said she spent a night working one of the games and she made a hundred dollars." Her expression is dry as she looks back at him. "Now I am thinking maybe she did a little bit more than pass drinks and cigarettes to make so much. But, now I know."
She walks purposefully, yet without any hurry. And without, it seems, a real destination in mind. "We're not going anywhere, really. Just making sure there's no trail to follow. Why use such a bad counterfeit?" she counters.
*
"Just wanted to get a good look at de men at de game. Wa'nt gun use my own money for dat, course," Remy says with a smile. "De big move be comin' some otha time." There's something about Remy that Ava may know—he looks a lot like the guy who was arrested for torturing that cop a few months back, if she keeps up to date with such things.
*
"Clever to stick with poker," Ava notes, gesturing from her eyes to his with a faint smirk. "They probably wouldn't have let you in otherwise. Although they're not likely to let you back in as it is. What did you think you would get from seeing them up close that you couldn't get from a distance?"
*
"De look in his eye, cherie. Needed to get a read on him. Can tell a lot by a man by de way he plays his cards. You be seein' how quick he was to call on de river? Love, he a lot mo' jumpy den he would otherwise like us to believe, sho nuff."
*
Ava tilts her head, considering. "A small thing to make a large judgment on," she muses. "Maybe he was just excited about his hand. It was better than yours," she adds, a note of humor in her voice.
*
"Dis is de long play, red," Remy says as he reaches over in an attempt to tap under his chin. "You keep watchin' and you might be learnin' sometin. He'll get his." Remy shoves his hand in his pocket. "He'll get his."
*
"Oh, really?" Ava laughs, pausing as they round a corner to pull a pair of battered boots from the duffel bag, pulling on one at a time. They're not in much better shape than going barefoot, held together with tape and stitching and glue as much as the leather, but it's something.
"I think that would not be a sad thing. They are not good people there." She glances back over her shoulder, allowing herself a more satisfied smile to find no tail. "Or very good at their security jobs, for that matter."
*
"Sho as de sun rises, cherie," Remy retorts with a smile. "Dat guy in black is de worst of dem all, in ole Remy's opinion, so he gonna get taken for everything he's got, if ah got anyting to say bout it." He looks around, "We headin' to your place or what?"
*
"Oh, I think you would not much care for my place," Ava smirks. "And it is a long walk to Brooklyn." She goes a few more steps before she pauses, turning to face him with a twitch of her lips that might be amusement. Or else she's trying to decide how she actually feels. "Are you hitting on me, Remy?"
*
"Oui, madameoiselle, I am. Dat gun be a problem?" He replies, sticking his other hand in his pocket as he turns to face her. "What, you dun like mutants?"
*
"That would be very unfortunate for me," Ava replies, and the amusement is clear this time. So is the electric crackle in her eyes and around the buckle on her duffle bag. "Not liking mutants, that is. Although I think maybe it is sometimes unfortunately for women when you hit on them, too."
*
"Usually, it is, but dats only after a whole lot of fun." Remy says with a nod and a smile. "So, you're one of us?" he asks. "Mutant, I mean?"
*
"That is the current theory." Ava lets the charge fade, though there's still a soft pop of static discharge around the buckle. "Though I came into it late. It's only been about six months. I'm still…getting a feel for it and how it works, you know?"
*
"Oh, I know," Remy says with a nod. "Iffen you ever need a hand, I know a lot of people down in Mutant Town who can help. Just have to ask. No strings. Promise."
*
Ava tilts her head at the offer, considering. "Yeah? I haven't been there much," she admits. "I sort of feel like I should be able to figure this out on my own. Without adding to someone else's burdens, without accidentally electrocuting their cat. Besides, the people in Mutant Town have their own lives and jobs and things, yes? They don't need me."
*
Remy shrugs his shoulders, "Just an offer. You can take it or leave it, it be up to you mademoiselle."
*
"Where in Mutant Town would I come looking for you?" Ava asks, pausing with a flicker of a smile. "Unless that was an offer to come back to your place. I am maybe not very good at telling."
*
"Me? Nah, I stay in de Kitchen. Spend a lot of time in de Mutant Town, though, and got a lot of friends down dere. Iffen you want to come back to my place, cherie, y'gunna have to squeeze a bit. Sleepin on de couch as it is."
*
"You're sleeping on the couch at your own place?" Ava arches a brow. "Or else you're not staying at your own place. I am suddenly feeling a little bit better about my place."
*
"Guess you could say I'm in between places, non?" Remy says with a smile. "Stayin' wit a friend because it's better den livin' alone at de moment. Besides, we drink de same brand of whiskey."
*
Ava is quiet for a moment as she considers him, suddenly much more serious than she was before. "Better than staying alone," she echoes. It's almost as though that's a foreign language to her. One she's heard, one she might…know a few words in. But certainly not one she's fluent in. "Huh. Wait, you said in Hell's Kitchen?" Arching a brow, she looks up at the night sky. "It's a bad time to be going back there."
*
"Where I be, lady, de bad times usually follow," Remy says with a grin. "People got some major worries in dat area right 'bout now, but ya gotta keep on keepin' on."
*
"I saw a woman being chased by a literal pack of vampires the other day." Ava doesn't sound scared about it, but she's definitely not convinced that it's cool to come back at this time of night. "You…could maybe come back to my place. But no promises," she warns, holding up a finger.
*
Remy shrugs, "We could do dat. Spose Jess could probably use another night without de house guest. Lead on, lil lady."
*
It is, as Ava said, a very long walk to Brooklyn. But it's late for a bus or the subway, and the streets are…Well, mostly empty. Even if the chaos is centered around Central Park and Hell's Kitchen, people don't want to take chances.
Eventually, though, they reach Brooklyn. And into the borough, into Little Odessa, there's a YMCA that Ava leads the way to. She jimmies a door, leading the way down to a basement boiler room with a single, swinging lightbulb and a low to the ground cot. Newspapers are stacked along the walls, offering a little extra insulation, and there's a persistent drip in one corner. But it's clean.
*
"Whaddya dun livin' here, kid?" Remy asks, inwardly and immediately heartbroken. To him, as a mutant freedom fighter, he doesn't care much for his surroundings and can adapt to anywhere. A girl like this, however, deserves a bit better. He shrugs out of his black coat and hangs it on a hook. And by hook I mean a rusty old nail.
*
"It's safe." Ava looks around, setting the duffel bag at the bottom of the bed. "Out of the weather. Fairly private. There are showers upstairs, though there's not always hot water. And the soup kitchen's just on the corner." She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, walls going up a bit at his tone. "I sort of ran away when I was fourteen. Could've been worse."
*
"Makes sense. If y'like it, den y'like it," Remy says and resolves to leave the girl some money somehow before he goes. "Where'd ya come from?" he asks, knowing what it's like to be out on his own from a young age.
*
Ava's smile quirks at the question, and she takes a seat on one of the stacks of newspaper, still wrapped in that oversized coat. "That is a complicated question. But the Ukraine, originally." It's slightly less inflammatory these days than saying she's from Russia, even if it's practically the same thing. "A humanitarian effort brought me here when I was nine, but the foster system didn't agree with me, so. Here I am. You? Some French, but…not French."
*
"Nawlins," Remy says as he looks back towards her. "Born and bred, mademoiselle. Greatest city on Earth, no doubts. Y'should see it sometime, iffen ya got de means and d'inclination."
*
Ava has, head tipping back slightly. "That explains the not-French French. I've…never been outside of New York here in the states, actually," she admits. "But I read the papers. Other things, when I can. You must have a good time telling New Yorkers that New Orleans is the greatest city in the world," she says with some amusement.
*
"People often be havin' some difficulty wit learnin' de truth. It's one of humanity's weaknesses, for certain," Remy says with a smile. "Tell ole Remy more bout what you saw in Hell's Kitchen, non?"
*
Ava shifts until she's cross-legged on the stack of newspapers. It would be an awkward posture with the short cocktail dress, but the coat is big enough to cover everything. Including her hands. "Vampires," she replies, grimacing. "I don't even know how many of them there were, honestly. But they were chasing a woman out of a building. They were…really determined to hurt her. But me and some other people who happened to be there, we stopped it. She made it to the hospital, or at least to the ambulance."
*
"Lucky you were dere, den," Remy says in reply. Inwardly he realizes that for the past month he's spent his life mostly intoxicated. The whole damn neighborhood has gone to shit and he's been too wallowed in his own misery to even lift a finger. Remy suddenly feels very cold.
*
"There were other people, too. And she seemed to know a thing or two about helping herself." Ava watches him for a moment, taking his measure. "The bad people are always willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals," she says quietly. "If there's no one who is willing to meet them on their ground, then they're going to keep getting away with it."
*
Remy looks a bit worried, but nonetheless he lowers himself onto the papers with a decent amount of distance between them. He leans upon his elbow. "Probably right dere on dat account."
*
"I have said something that worries you," Ava says quietly, shifting to look up and around the place. "Or you are worried about this place. You shouldn't be," she adds, sitting up a little straighter. "There's nothing wrong with it." Russians - very low standards, apparently.
*
"De place is fine. Dat's not what's bothering me," Remy says with a bit of a sigh. "Lost someone very close to me recently. World's been passing me by and I been runnin' in circles."
*
"I'm sorry. I…know how that feels." It's not so different from what Ava's been doing for the last few months, honestly. And why she's gone back to SHIELD. "You don't have to stay in circles, though. You see what you're doing now. All you have to do is decide to change it."
*
"You probably right, chere. De problem is dat it ain't always clear which way to go once you decided to change," Remy says with a bit more sadness than he's used to.
*
"No, it's not," Ava agrees. "But if you don't decide, then you might as well keep going in circles." She falls silent for a moment, awkward at the conversation. Instead, she reaches for a change of subject. "In the alley, that explosion. Is that what you do?" she asks.
*
"Could be," Remy says with a nod. "Guess we'll wait and see." When the topic turns to his powers he grabs one of the bits of newspaper and tears it. Holding it up towards her it begins to flash with a purple energy. Effortlessly he flicks it in the air and it gives a little pop as it hits the floor. "Splosions big and small," he says absently.
*
Ava's brows rise slightly as she watches, a speculative look in her eyes. "That's…sort of like what I do. Only mine's electricity. And I don't…" She trails off, waving a finger around her eyes. "Well. Most of the time. Unless I get worked up."
*
"Dere's a joke in dere somewhere 'bout the electricity of gettin' worked up, but I ain't gonna make it, lady," Remy says with a smile. "You don't what?"
*
"It doesn't show." Ava smirks at the unmade joke, rolling her eyes slightly. After a moment, though, an actinic blue light starts to flicker in her pupils, spreading over her eyes first, then along her skin, focused at her lips and her fingertips, crackling around her. No wonder the card-player got a shock. "Unless I let it."
*
"How strong does de shock get? Just in case I lose my manners, gotta know what to expect," Remy says as he repositions himself. "Looks like it could be pretty fierce."
*
Ava has to focus to pull the electricity back in, the spark in her eyes the last thing to fade away. "I honestly don't know." She shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looks away. "I haven't really experimented all that much. It's easier to channel it through things. Helps keep everything in check."
*
"Point taken, chere," Remy says with a chuckle. "What're yo' longterm plans. I spose y'aint thinkin' of livin' in the bottom of a YMCA forever, non?"
*
Ava laughs, looking around. "Well, it's not so bad. And longterm plans…Like what?" she asks, grimacing. "I don't even have a high school diploma."
*
"Just sayin' dat you might need a plan. Girl like you should be livin' in a house with a picket fence. Dat sort of ting. You can /get/ a high school diploma."
*
"The picket fence comes with a husband, I'm told," Ava snorts softly. "I could do that," she shrugs. "Find some very stupid man to marry. But then what? I stay at home and cook and clean?"
*
"Sure you could find a man who might like boiled taters," Remy says with a laugh. "Can't help you wit de cleanin, I'm afraid."
*
"Are you saying that you think I can't cook or clean?" Ava asks indignantly, a smile ghosting at one corner of her lips. "I can do a lot of things, you know. Being a housewife would not be my choice, though."
*
"I'm saying that as a Ukrainian, y'might not have de best menu to order from. Gotta remember, love, I come from N'awlins. Best city on Earth," Remy even goes so far as to wink at her. "What would be your choice, den?"
*
"I want to do something that makes a difference." Ava glances toward the duffel bag. "I want to fix things, make them better. I want to make sure that the people who do terrible things to other people don't get that chance ever again."
*
"Terrible tends t'be different dependin' on de perspective. Still, y'right, dere's a greater good out dere." Remy goes back and forth as to what side of the fence he's on. It helps that the Brotherhood seems to go back and forth as well.
*
Ava nods, hopping off of the stack of newspapers. "So maybe I can do something about that. It's worth a try, at least. Besides, I meet such interesting people when I do," she adds with a smirk.
*
"Imagine you can, chere," Remy says faintly. This one is someone to keep an eye on; one to tell Raven about. Perhaps if she means what she says she might be willing to make the world a better place for their kind. Inside, Remy begins to feel guilty for hitting on this young woman. She looks so young and is clearly so ambitious, maybe even naive? He exhales wearily.
*
"You look like you should sleep, Remy," Ava says at the sigh, reaching under the cot to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a worn t-shirt. "I'm going to hit the showers, but you're welcome to the cot if you want."
*
"Would love to join ya, but you're prolly right. I ain't takin' the cot, chere. Dat's yours." Remy undoes the buttons on his cuffs and begins to take off the white shirt. Newspapers aint so bad.
*
"The water's all cold anyhow," Ava laughs over her shoulder. "You probably wouldn't enjoy it very much." She disappears upstairs for the shower, gone for a good twenty or thirty minutes, cold water or no. The cold water helps her focus. When she comes back, though, she'll make sure he's at least comfortable, donating her jacket as a blanket.
*
And by then, Remy is fast asleep.
