Who: Gambit and Vanessa When: Monday afternoon. Where: Meeting Room, Underground What: Remy meets his new owner. No one is surprised when this does not go well. [Completed]
When they pulled him from his room Remy thought they were taking him for a training session; though he was still pretty banged up from his final round in this month's tournament, he really wouldn't put it past Gleeson to just be a douche and make him do it knowing that Remy would rather be left alone. Anyway, that was the general direction they were headed in, underground. Somehow it always seemed worse to Remy to be down here-- he had no way of seeing everything hidden down here, could be dungeons for all he knew-- he would much rather just be in an arena and to hell with the training rooms.
So, the thief was sulking, glower fixed firmly on his face and murderous thoughts quite obvious in his red-on-black eyes as the guards lead him down the hall. Except, when the door they brought him to opened, it wasn't to a normal training room. There was a table in there and chairs, and Remy just arched a brow, asking, "Wha' de hell is dis?"
"Sit down and be a good boy, LeBeau," was the only reply, one guard pulling a chair out and pointing to it while the other's hand hovered near his collar's control.
It wasn't like Remy could charge anything at the moment, and anything less wouldn't be worth getting electrocuted, so he dropped into the seat sullenly, muttering "bâtards" beneath his breath. One day they wouldn't have that little remote, then it wouldn't matter if Remy had his powers or not because someone would pay.
He would be sitting for some time before anyone entered the room.
Two humans came first, followed one of the handlers. As for the others, they were an odd duo from first appearance. The man was tall, with a stern expression and graying at the temples. His pants were neatly pressed and obviously tailored. He smelled faintly of cigars and expensive aftershave. He was much like the usual stock of humans who came to the island - rich.
The woman was younger. Curvy and petite, she was the physical opposite of her companion. Yet they both possessed the same dark hair and blue eyes. Her complexion was much lighter than his, "porcelain" was the colloquial expression for such a look. Her dress was a deep blue, modestly cut while still form-fitting. She glanced over the room and its inhabitants briefly before settling her gaze upon the lone collared occupant. Arching a single, delicate eyebrow was the only reaction at the sight of Remy Lebeau.
Vanessa DeMalgre was many things, but ignorant was not among them. She'd been at the tournament, watching from the safety of their box seats. She had seen him fight from affar, not knowing that she'd soon be this close to him. Yet when her father beckoned her to follow him into the underground of the facility, she'd known what was coming. Still, she waited patiently, masking her own surprise and curiosity.
The guard moved to pull out one of the chairs facing Remy at the table and she slipped gracefully into the seat. The older man followed suit, taking the chair to her immediate left while the handler stood nearby.
"So this is the elusive 'Gambit'?" The man seemed to find the name amusing, looking over the Cajun with mild interest and more than a healthy amount of skepticism.
"It is," the handler replied, setting the papers on the table before him.
"Doesn't look like much up close, does he?" He gruffly remarked, chuckling slightly. "Wouldn't have thought he'd be one to give you as much trouble. Scrappy though, from the look of him."
"Y' find Gambit's name funny, homme?" he spit, tone venomous and demon eyes narrowed in annoyance. You didn't have be be good at reading people to catch the smug amusement that seemed to practically drip from the older man.
Remy had been in there for too long-- he didn't normally do well in confinement, especially not when he was stuck sitting in one place. He had too much energy for that and being stuck in this room had quickly eaten away what little patience the thief had, now he just wanted to go the hell back to his room before he ended up making one of his jailers shock him into submission.
He needed to behave to keep that from happening; it was damn hard though, especially when every nuance of the couple across from him grated on his nerves when they had been in the room for less than two minutes.
Owners. He didn't have to know anything else about them. Owners were the only people who came down here, who had the guards at their beck and call, and who could make his already miserable life even worse. He could practically feel the hair at his nape standing on end as he rankled under their scrutiny, every intuition the Cajun had telling him that he was in no way going to like this meeting, whatever it was about.
Remy slouched down further in his seat, arms crossed and body language closed off, unreadable. Until the moment those papers were slid onto the table. "Wha' de hell's dat?" he growled, feeling sick and angry, a horrible suspicion creeping into him.
Ignored by the handler, who simply began carrying on business as usual and laying out the provisions of the sale, he turned his furious glare on first the man and then his little toy of a girl. Scrappy? They were going to find out exactly how scrappy Remy LeBeau was if they weren't careful. It wasn't just his powers that helped the thief consistently survive, and win, in the arena.
"Asked wha' de hell dose papers are.." he said even louder, though Remy really didn't need them explained to him. He knew now, and his anger made him practically vibrate in his seat as he growled. "T'ink y' can buy ol' Gambit? Dat he'll be yo' fightin' dog? You fuckin' stupid den, ain' no one's dog."
He moved, quicker than was probably expected, extensive training as much as his mutation giving the thief reflexes quicker than any normal human. Hitting the table, he slapped the paper's off of it onto the floor, startling the guards and earning him a cuff against the back of his head. "Calm down, LeBeau," one of them said from behind him and it was enough to keep him in his seat, but barely.
She watched him from her seat, silently appraising him. Nessa could almost see him pacing in her minds eye. A caged predator with no place left to run. A wolf, maybe? No, he was too sleek for that. Something feline. With the explosion of movement from him, her interest piqued. While her father was largely ignoring the mutant in question, she knew the purpose for their visit. It wouldn't do to buy merchandise unseen.
One of the guards retrieved the papers from the floor, earning Gambit another scowl from the handler.
"I apologize, Mr. DeMalgre -"
"Hmph, spirited you said." Her father cut him off. Vanessa sensed the irritation in his voice, perking her interest. He was mulling over the first page of the contract, ignoring the mutant almost entirely. "What do you think, sweetheart?"
She smiled brilliantly at the man and the expression transformed her face into someone much younger and overwhelmingly sweeter than the blank woman who'd been sitting there moments ago. "I'm sure whatever you've picked out is perfect for me, Daddy."
"For the price, we can hope that he will be." Alexander replied, giving the handler a shrewd look. "But there are a few things we need to discuss before I sign the papers."
"Of course." The handler seemed relieved that they weren't balking. Vanessa wondered at that. "Shall we go to my office to finalize things?"
"Ah, yes. Nessa -"
"I'll be fine here." She beamed at him, gesturing at the two guards who remained in the room. "I'd like to take a closer look at my new present."
She watched them leave the room before turning her attention to the mutant in front of her. Her beaming smile was replaced with shrewd calculation. This could be fun.
"Well, that was certainly interesting." She remarked dryly, leaning back in her chair to regard him closely. "Do you always cause a scene?"
Remy ignored her question, glaring something that could only be described as pure hatred at the back of Mr. Delmagre's head as he left the room. He promised himself that later he would find a way to make that handler's job pure hell too, and who cared if it would earn the Cajun punishment because it wasn't like his life could really get any worse than it already was.
The very idea of being bought and sold made something inside the thief recoil-- and it wasn't like he had a lot of moral high ground to stand on, but this place and these people were wrong. You couldn't do this to people. He'd never understand how they could treat other people like toys. Mutant or not, no one deserved to be treated the way they were-- like they were disposable, less than human, like their damn lives were somehow worth less because of a cruel trick of genetic chance.
When the door had closed firmly behind them, his gaze turned on the woman across from him, something calculating beneath all the anger burning there.
The sudden shift of her expression was interesting, and Remy could recognize a player from a hundred paces; especially considering the thief was given toward manipulating people when he could himself. He didn't plan on letting her get the upper hand with him though, no matter how rich or influential her father was. This woman was not his owner. Dieu, she wasn't even his better.
When he did speak, it was with an unfriendly sneer as he hissed, "Y' best get dis straight now, girl, Gambit ain' no present. Y' best go spend yo' money on some pretty jewelry if y' wanna flaunt yo' wealth, 'cause Gambit'll make y' regret dis bad decision, promise y' dat. Comprenez?"
It was enough of a threat that it made the guards step closer, but the thief didn't move other than to turn his head and look away, effectively pretending she wasn't sitting across from him.
She smiled, evidently pleased with his response. Vanessa didn't bother putting forth the effort of a facade when there was no one around worth impressing. He was only a mutant and the guards were background noise. Vanessa toyed with her bracelet, clinking the small bits of turquoise together methodically.
"Charming personality, aren't you?" She remarked, going on as if they were having a civilized conversation. Probably impossible, given the refinement of the animal sitting across the table from her. There was a reason they were fought in the arena, after all. "Given your position, you really don't think petty threats are going to change anything, do you? I'd really hoped this particular new toy" she placed special emphasis on the word for his benefit, "wasn't quite so stupid. I suppose we can't have everything, can we?"
She shifted in her seat, watching his face for any sort of reaction as she continued in a conversational tone. "I watched you at the tournament. Quite a show you put on."
Of course, ignoring her would have been much easier accomplished if the woman wouldn't talk.
Unfortunately, Remy seemed to not have quite that much luck, and every word that passed her pretty lips just seemed to make him angrier. He would never understand how anyone could think themselves so far above another person. Maybe it was just because he grew up seeing the worst that all people, regardless of their social station, were capable of doing.
"Y' tink Gambit's a toy?" he spit the word back at her, still refusing to look at her. "Chil'ren who play wit' guns always end up shootin' demselves. Don' y' watch de news? Best watch yo'self, been known t' go off on accident, me."
He glared at her as she called him stupid, his fingers curling against the arms of his chair, gripping it as he tried to ignore how much he wanted to get up and walk out. Not that they'd let him get very far.
His threats had the opposite effect. She found them more amusing than anything else. Pathetic, maybe, but still amusing. It would take more than that for him to get a reaction from her. She tilted her head back to examine the ceiling tiles for a moment, looking entirely at ease in her surroundings.
"Mmm, then I should be especially careful with the trigger, shouldn't I?" Vanessa turned to the guard closest to her. "I believe you have a device for me."
With only a moment's hesitance, the collar control was placed into her gracile hands. She caressed the surface of it curiously. She returned to face Gambit once again, smug to the core. "After all, we wouldn't want any nasty accidents, now would we, Gambit?"
Oh, and he wanted so badly to reply with something very vulgar and tell this haughty bitch exactly what she could do with his trigger, but Gambit was distracted by the movement of one of the guards. Red-on-black eyes tracked the control as it was passed between them, the mutant's anger practically palpable as he watched the woman's delicate fingers stroke against that torture device.
He hated her for both her power over him and the way she flaunted it.
"Tink y' won' know a nasty accident til y' see one," he growled. In the next instant he was up and had hurled his chair at the guard nearest him with startling precision, catching the man right against his temple with it.
Her finger thumbed the switch before the chair had really left his hands. Her research into the collar indicated certain threshold levels for a normal human being which were modified into specific mutant physiology. Without hesitating, she gave him a jolt comparable to that of a cattle prod. She was prepared to do so until he hit the ground.
The guard threw up his hands to shield himself from the sudden attack yet was not quick enough to avoid the strike. The man dropped, bleeding profusely from his forehead where the metal piece had connected. The second guard reacted almost immediately, lunging for Gambit with a short metal baton. Vanessa remained seated and very still. Had he attacked her, she might have expressed more anger.
“I had hoped we could circumvent this little experiment.” She sighed, depressing the button once again to give him another even stronger jolt. “Impulsive as well as stupid. You could be more difficult than I thought. I do wonder what Father was thinking.”
Oh, he had known it would get him shocked, no way around that, and indeed the electrical jolt from his collar dropped the thief to this knees just as much as the other guard slamming into him. But it was so very worth it. Gambit took a grim sort of satisfaction from watching the guard bleed against the floor even while the other one was trying to pin him with that baton against his throat.
"Freddie's gonna have one helluva headache when he wakes up, henh?" he laughed, every mean-spirited survival instinct making him want to hit the guard all over again just to show them they still hadn't beaten him.
The second activation of his collar came even harder, making him convulse on the floor, his teeth grinding together. "Y' a bitch," he spit once the shock subsided, struggling beneath the guard's hold even while little tremors were still twitching through his muscles from the electricity. "Best tell yo' daddy dat Gambit's a bad investment."
“I think it’s too late for that. You’re an investment that’s already been made. I hope, for your sake, that you are a profitable one. ”
He was correct, though. This wasn’t going to be easy. If he hadn’t goaded her – hadn’t been rude and loud and altogether unpleasant– she might have agreed with him. The elder DeMalgre would have given her final say in the actual purchasing (maybe). She could have found something less confrontational and more malleable to her whims. But he had thrown down a gauntlet and she never refused a challenge.
The second guard went to strike Gambit again, this time in the face and no doubt hoping to send him into unconsciousness, when Vanessa intervened. “That’s quite enough. He does belong to me now and I don’t like damaged goods.”
She glanced absently at the unconscious guard. “You may want to take your friend up to Medical before he bleeds too much.”
Remy blinked when she called the guard off, surprised though he refused to show anything except an infuriating smirk. Of course, he was not as stupid as she thought; he wouldn't make the mistake of thinking her leniency was because she was worried he would be hurt, he was property to this woman and nothing more. That thought made him glare at her, dark eyes still narrowed with fury even while he was sprawled on the floor.
The guard scowled, obviously not happy with being stopped; given his own way he would more than likely have beat Remy past the point of unconsciousness just to teach the punk that his behavior wouldn't be tolerated. "Don't think that's wise, Miss DeMalgre," the guard objected, baton shoved tight and choking against the thief's throat to keep him where he was. "Wouldn't be safe or right to leave a lady like you alone with something like him. We all know this is dangerous work, Fred will be fine waiting on help until your father gets back."
"Don' b'long t' no one," Remy growled, tensing against the floor though he didn't attack again. Yet.
“You’ll find yourself mistaken on that account, Gambit.” Once again, she enunciated both syllables fully, tasting the name with a trace of amusement. “But if you must insist on repeating that drivel to yourself, I’d rather not state the obvious.”
She smiled at the guard sweetly. “Your concern is touching but I dare say I can take care of myself.”
To illustrate her point, Vanessa thumbed the switch once again, jolting the errant mutant once again for good measure. He needed to be put down quickly and, even as she let the shock linger unnecessarily long, she doubted that beating him physically would be enough to break him. Some wild animals were like that. “Besides, we have a few things left to discuss before my father returns.”
Well, it wasn't like the guard didn't know a dismissal when he heard one, it was something you got accustomed to when working for people like these; and while it'd be a damn shame for trash like LeBeau to get one over on Miss DeMalgre while they were gone, he watched the mutant writhe on the floor as she electrocuted him and didn't think Gambit would be doing much of anything for a while.
The decision was made for him when the other guard regained consciousness, retching, which meant that the mutant had probably given him a concussion. "Alright, Miss DeMalgre, I'll be back as soon as I've gotten him to Medical," the guard agreed. Then nudging Remy with his foot, he scowled, "Be good for the lady," before helping his friend up and leaving.
For his part, Remy was hardly aware of the guards leaving. Fucking bitch, he didn't even do anything to deserve that one, Remy thought sullenly as he lay panting on the floor, dark eyes rolling beneath his lashes as he tried not to let unconsciousness just roll him under. Being shocked three times in as many minutes had his head spinning and every muscle in his body screaming as his nerves misfired from the electrical jolt. That didn't keep him from letting her know exactly what he thought of her and this situation, muttering every vulgar word he could think of and some he probably had made up as he rolled onto his side.
Vanessa waited until the door closed securely behind the two guards, letting Lebeau snarl and yap on the floor. Perhaps he was a dog after all? The musing left her with a tight smile. It was only then that she rose from the table and crossed the room, each of her steps echoing on the hard floor. She took her time, as he clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
“Aren’t you inventive?” She paused when she reached his side, her designer Jimmy Choo’s looming in his vision. “I’m quite sure that last one is physically impossible, even for the horse.”
She didn’t flinch as he rolled to his side. Didn’t take a step backwards. She knew how dangerous he was; she had watched him fight from the safety of the stands, after all. Yet she was not a woman prone to excessive fear. It was an unnecessary and unpredictable emotion. And emotions, even under the best circumstances, were messy things. And in confronting a wild animal, hesitation wasn’t on the agenda.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Her voice was low when she addressed him, staring down at her toes and him just beyond them. “You can curse me until you make yourself hoarse and it changes nothing.”
"Y' a 'eartless bitch, 'nyone ev'r tell y' dat?" he groaned, his accent thick with anger as he forced himself to push past the pain. It was that same stubborn survival instinct that served him well in the arena, that made him keep going even when it'd be safer to back down. Giving in would mean he was weak, and in his world being weak set you up to be someone's victim. He didn't care who this woman thought she was, Remy LeBeau was no one's victim, especially not hers.
He pushed himself up onto his hands, his body shaking, protesting the movement. He wasn't quite ready to be on his feet but he wasn't interested in trying to look up her skirt and like hell was he going to face this woman flat on his back.
"Gonna take forev'r, Miss DeMalgre," he sneered, " 'cause Gambit ain' nev'r gonna be yours, don' care wha' dat paper says, don' care 'bout dis place none, me."
He pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, fists clenched at his side and a stubborn set to his jaw as he said, "Y' bett'r throw dat money 'round where someone cares, 'cause Gambit don'."
She watched him rise impassively, expression blank. He dwarfed her small frame quickly, forcing her to tilt her head to meet his eyes. Her blue gaze was unfaltering, despite the fact that he could probably kill her in far less time than it would take the guard to return. She wasn’t retreating to the relative safety that the other side of the table offered. Not even close. Instead, she took another step closer, drawing herself up to her full height and gave him a hard stare.
Heartless bitch? That was putting it mildly. She gave him another one of those enigmatic smiles at the phrase, making no comment upon it. Vanessa wondered where he learned to talk. That accent was atrocious. It grated on her nerves and practically screamed “gutter snipe.” It was practically offensive enough on its own. She'd never seen a mutant this close before. The rational part of her mind took in his appearance with curiosity. He could almost pass for human (unlike that hairy creature she'd seen before) if not for those demon eyes. She wondered if he looked this unhuman when he wasn't trying to set her on fire with his gaze alone.
“Whether you care about it or not doesn’t change the fact that my money bought you.” She informed him coolly. “And until I decide otherwise, you will fight for me.”
She crossed her arms, looking every inch the haughty little rich girl he thought her to be. “You should know, mutant, that I don’t often change my mind.”
He glared down at her, taking a step closer to emphasize the difference in their height, his dark eyes narrowed in disdain as he growled, "An' y' should know dat Gambit don' change his mind eider, so we gonna be at an impasse forev'r. Y' gonna tink y' own 'im, and Gambit ain' nev'r gonna not tink dat it's evil t' do dis t' people. Best b'lieve dat m' not lettin' y' get wha' y' want."
Crossing his own arms to match her pose, Remy sneered. "Y' best jus' be glad dat Gambit's fam'ly taught 'im not t' hit girls, but ev'n if Gambit got manners dat don' mean people like you don' d'serve t' get hit."
Because, Christ, he'd love to see that smug look wiped off of her pretty face.
Maybe he wouldn't attack her outright, at the moment, but that didn't stop him from idly wondering how far he would get if he snatched the collar remote and made a run for it.
She stared up at him, refusing to step back. Vanessa DeMalgre did not retreat. It was unforgivable. So even when his proximity made her uncomfortable, she didn’t budge. Instead, Vanessa quirked a brow and waited until he’d finished the rant.
“Pretty speech – at least the parts that were intelligible.” She rolled her eyes off to the side. “It might have been more effective if you were human to begin with.”
She tilted her head to the side, offering him a clean shot at that face. It was clearly a dare. One that she didn’t believe he’d take – if he wanted to walk out of the room on his own volition. She had no illusions about his physical superiority. Fortunately, she was the one holding the remote, currently tucked in the crook of one arm in her hand.
“As it is, you don’t seem to have another option.”
Her comment drew him up short from taking another step closer to shove himself right into her breathing space. Remy blinked, something unreadable in his red eyes; after a lifetime of hearing people call him mutant, monster, demon, it was a testament to his stubbornness that he still believed he was human.
"Y' might tink dat, bet it 'elps yo' conscience, but y' best b'lieve dat Gambit's as human as y' are, Miss DeMalgre," he hissed softly. She would probably like it if he actually hit her, would prove that he was the monster she thought he really was.
Instead of hitting her, he brushed past her, close enough for their shoulders to touch as he walked to the door. "Y' best call dem t' take Gambit back t' 'is room now, else we'll be arguin' in circles all evenin' and dat might test m' manners."