It was during the tournaments when the crowd really seemed to love Remy the most. Maybe everyone loved a good explosion, or maybe Remy's charm was a little stronger than he thought, but more than likely it was just that the thief always seemed to do better in a fight than the crowd's gamblers could anticipate, and he usually made it pretty far. It was obvious that some day soon he'd come out as the champion in the final round; he had the skill to go a lot farther than the blue band on his collar indicated.
His first round found him in the sand, big furrows blown through the soft surface from both his cards and the strikes from the whip-like extensions of his opponent's arms. They circled each other, and Remy tossed jeers and shouts to the crowd as often as he tossed charges at the other mutant. It all seemed like another day in the pits.
Then one of those long appendages had caught him around the throat, and it was more than just a whip. It jerked the Cajun clear off the ground, and never mind choking him, the electric shock of it against his skin made Remy scream. It was unexpected, and a little too much like his damn collar, and pain and fury exploded through him in response. Fingers scrambling at his throat as the other mutant shook him like a ragdoll, he shoved his own power into the whip, felt all the molecules that made up the mutant right down to his bones. Living things never ignited as quick as inorganic matter, but he could light him up just the same. He knew the minute the man's arm went unstable, electrons humming at a faster rate, potential energy becoming kinetic. It got him dropped when the pain became too much for the other fighter, and Remy barely got out of the way before the limb went up just like an entire deck of cards.
It was just another fight, they all seemed the same lately, after so many they even blurred together. But Remy wasn't going to forget the way all that flesh and blood blew with enough force to shake the ground beneath his feet, gore streaking him and the sand and even the stands.
The Cajun stood there in shock until the guards came to get him and lead him to the next arena. He had won, his opponent wasn't getting up, hell he might not even live. All he could think about was blowing the other mutant apart, the man's high-pitched shriek, and from the owner's box above, Vanessa's pleased expression.
His own chest hurt from the concussive force of the explosion and Remy lifted a hand to rub at the ache. He had shed the light protection he had been wearing mostly in an attempt to get the skin off of him that wasn't his own, leaving him in jeans and boots and a tshirt already wet with sweat and blood as he walked into the dirt arena.
He didn't enter with his usual fanfare, just a glance up toward the box where he knew that woman would be. Her delight at his victory drew him up short, the last thing Remy wanted to do was make her happy. Like hell he was doing that this round.
Three cards flipped out between his fingers, but the motion was almost listless, he didn't even make the first move.