Summary: The final moves in the game of intrigue as the mastermind gets out maneuvered.

Epilogue
Xavier’s School for the Gifted;
Is full of tension. There has always been a slight layer in the school; it’s pretty much expected with all the different personalities, so many very different mind-sets and life-outlooks all under the same roof. Everyone seems to be affected; everyone except Bobby, the Professor, and Gambit. At least now, but when he’d first come back from the failed mission in San Francisco, he couldn’t get away from Logan and Scott fast enough. There had been concerned looks and comments about the haunted look in his eyes.
((((
It was fairly late when the three had returned from San Francisco on Saturday evening. The report Scott had given to the professor had been held in private behind closed doors. All the team had been told was that there were no certainties about the potential candidate at this time but contact had been made. They would wait.

Scott had been too absorbed in his own thoughts about the past 48 hours to mark the studied blankness when he reported Gambit’s hostile attitude when approaching the candidate and the possibility that the young Cajun would most likely not stay. Charles had told him that he tended to concur as the young man was even now packing while Scott was in debriefing. Scott walked away more confused. He hadn’t known what to expect once everything was over.
((((
Saturday morning in San Francisco;
Dawned with typical California morning weather conditions, the sky was slightly overcast and the weather damp with foggy mist which wouldn’t burn off until close to 11:00 a.m.

In the early morning hours, Logan stirred awake to a warm body next to him and the smell of stale sex stifling the air. He was reluctant to leave the comfortable messy warmth, where he’d awakened with his face buried in russet hair, but the need to relieve himself was stronger than his desire to wallow. He cracked the window in the bedroom on his way to the bathroom.

After a nice long refreshing leak, the hairy X-man cleaned up at the sink with a washcloth and soapy warm water. Returning to the bedroom with the soapy cloth he stopped for a minute to study the two men still sleeping there. Scott was stretched out on his back, left arm flung out with hand hanging just off the bed. His left leg was crooked at the knee and pointing to the side. Gambit’s cheek was pillowed on Scott’s other arm, face nestled in the shoulder. One of the Cajun’s arms lay across Scott’s waist and the other lay angled across the spot that had held Logan’s body. Gambit was turned partially on his stomach, making it easy for Logan to apply the cloth to his back. Logan made three additional trips to the bath to rinse the towel before he was satisfied; the last, a half-hearted and quickly discarded attempt at cleaning Scott. He felt funny touching the sleeping man now, even though it hadn’t bothered him earlier. Logan wasn’t too keen on having the other man wake up and find him pawing his cock.

Gambit was a different matter. The simple act of cleaning and touching the sleeping man agitated his arousal and had Logan stroking his hands down the warm pliant flesh, fingers exploring and tongue following. The soft sleepy moans of pleasure reaching into his brain, guiding him to press his heat against Gambit, stroke the responding body with lubricated fingers. He’d known sex with Gambit would be over the top but hadn’t expected it to be so addictive. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex with such a responsive partner, and the body under him was responding to his attention, a sleeping Remy arched his hips back against Logan’s hand, invading fingers. The easy burn of Logan entering him pulled Gambit completely from his foggy erotic dreams into delicious reality. They’re heated movements against the sleeping field leader woke the other man to the gentle rocking of the bed and soft sounds of morning lust being satisfied. He lay there watching for a few minutes before slipping away for the bathroom and more intense cleaning. He smirked at the thought of Logan’s attempts while he had been asleep, but he didn’t dwell. Crawling back into the sweaty heat swirling off the moaning Cajun, Scott took advantage of slick parted lips and sank his stiffened cock down Gambit’s throat. It was getting fairly late in the afternoon before they were all fucked out again and gave any kind of thought to getting back to Westchester. Lying there on the soiled sheets of the hotel bed Scott had gone blank once the bathroom door shut and the water came on. Feeling like a stranger in his skin, he had staggered from the room after stealing a quick disturbed look in Logan’s direction. He wasn’t smirking anymore as he eyed the dog collar resting against the skin of the other man’s throat. Scott suppressed a shiver of anxiety and anticipation-dread as his gaze slid away, had gone quietly down the hall and into the second bath and slumped into the shower.
((((
It’s only been a week since the crazy fuck-fest and Scott has no idea of what to do. The team is falling apart around him, the classrooms are practically empty. The mansion halls are fraught with false normalcy in the face of the destruction under the surface. He can pinpoint exactly when things started getting worse, the first 48 hours of their return, minds were quietly asking why the ever confident and cocky Cajun would not stay in a room with Scott or Logan unless there were others present.

Gambit knew Ororo had a soft spot for him in her heart. Knew that it would hurt her when he slunk into the mansion like a skittish colt and went straight to his room without saying a word to anyone. He could feel her strong emotions of hurt, anger, and concern as she stood in his room while he showered. When there was no more hot water he emerged to her almost frantic disquiet with a cool blankness. Neither of them spoke while he packed what he could fit into a duffle bag.

Ororo watched the silent young thief. Her hurt was quickly being replaced with concern and anger. Storm had been a thief before coming to the school. She may not be a ‘practicing’ thief but she retained her skills all the same. Her sharp eyes missed little, if nothing, and she was keenly aware of the stiff and awkward movements of a man who made walking across a room an art form. There was something seriously wrong and that something was reinforced by the red angry welts she glimpsed on his wrist. He had been rubbing them absently since entering the mansion. The fact that none of the three men would look at each or speak directly to one another spoke great volumes of trouble to her keen mind, made it apparent that something *not right* had taken place. Storm wanted to know what they had done to her Remy. That was the only explanation, Logan and Scott had to have done something to the boy. He looked so vulnerable and surprised, but most of all he looked hurt. Not in the physical sense but there was something lurking under the surface that jangled her nerves, something Gambit was trying to protect her from. Storm had no doubt that sooner or later she’d find out exactly what.

Gambit hadn’t figured on things turning out exactly they way they had, he’d picked velvet specifically for the fact he hadn’t thought he’d get rope burns. What started out as a minor irritation quickly became another arrow in his quiver when he awoke early on Saturday morning to the sensation of Logan keeping his promise to be first at fucking him. It had been a lot more fun and much more satisfying with some kind of *control* over things as opposed to the night/morning before, but by the time the two men had finally let him crawl away from the bed his entire body had become a mass of agonizing raw nerves. Standing in the spray of the hot shower and letting it permeate his skin he wondered if there hadn’t been an inch of him that hadn’t been covered in cum. The sometimes harsh grip of Logan or Scott’s hands had gone a long way in turning mild irritation into semi-serious skin abrasion and the stinging sweat-salt and other fluids turned them an aggravated red.

He could feel Storm’s eyes burning into his back as he made his way across the grounds and toward the boathouse. And because he was alone and no-one could see his face, Gambit smiled as his plans came to fruition.

Waiting until he was sure everyone would be in their rooms for the night, Remy slipped through the shadows and into the mansion. He made his way to the lower levels where Beast kept his medical facility. Hank McCoy was not enthusiastic about being woken from a much needed rest. ~I really need to stop working so late that I’m waking up with drool ruining my notes~ Hank thought as he quickly banished his irritation at the sight of a hunched and shivering Remy LeBeau standing in the doorway of his office. The boy was slightly flushed and rubbing his wrist as if they bothered him. Under the more discerning lights of the examination room, Hank was appalled at the weak and exhausted pallor of the young man. ~The poor boy looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in days~ Hank thought as he asked cursory questions as to what was bothering his patient.  His amazed wonder at the willing cooperation from the normally resistant young mutant who wouldn’t willingly step beyond the door of the lab was quickly subdued by mild despair as he examined the sickly boy.

Even though Gambit balked at giving him specifics, Hank had a growing suspicion as to what could have possibly happened to the young man. Deep down inside he secretly hoped the apparent gang rape had not been at the hands of his young charges fellow team-mates. Hank hoped in his heart but his mind knew better. In his agitated state and desperate need to verbalize what was going through his mind, Hank found himself pouring out his findings to Ororo. She had been deeply troubled and unable to sleep. From her attic loft, the former goddess had seen her dear friend making his way toward the mansion and had gone down to try and speak with him or at least make sure he was alright. Her growing concern prompted her to remain quiet and follow when Gambit entered the house and made straight for the med-lab.
((((
Xavier’s School for the Gifted is full of tension, has been for about two weeks now. There has always been a slight layer of tension in the school. It’s pretty much expected with all the different personalities, so many very different mind-sets and life-outlooks all under the same roof. So yes, it would go without saying that there’s bound to be personality conflicts and a healthy amount of tension, but things have gotten a bit worse over the past month. Doors are being slammed. Dishes are getting broken. Minor, everyday, disagreements have escalated into shouting matches, people are not *speaking* to one another, the ‘cold shoulder’ routine seems to be a favorite lately. Accidental brushes of bodies have turned into wrestling matches, scuffles, and all out fights.

The normally carefree students have become slightly wary of the Administration, the Sr. Staff; the Teachers who secretly comprise the renegade/vigilante uncanny team of crime fighters known only to the outside world as The X-Men. They seem to be the most heavily affected; the source of the mansions quiet disquiet. Some of the students have begun to cut classes. The ones with a better sense of self-preservation, who don’t like being on the receiving end of their Instructor’s ire, learning first had what they are capable of with the fine-line control of their mutant abilities.

Ororo Munro, Storm the former Goddess now called Weather Witch; a gentle and kind hearted woman always willing to overlook the smallest slight and turn the other cheek no longer does so. There is much speculation but no-one would dare trying to find out what set her off enough to rain on half her senior class. It rained on them for an entire day. It was Sunday.

Jean Gray, Phoenix who always rises from the ashes reborn. Red-headed bombshell that stars in many of the male population’s fantasies doesn’t seem so sweet and understanding anymore. Not after she’s made you the subject of ‘Today’s lesson in Mind Control 101’ and sifted through all of your dirty little secrets, made you tell them all while providing mental imagery for your audience. She doesn’t like anyone tampering with her rosebush. That is a definite No-No. Sorry but you get’s no desert.

Marie Darkholm, Rogue resigned to the fact that she will never *know* love because of her inability to touch another living being without disastrous results, another pivotal presences in the many daydreams abound isn’t part of the teaching staff. She doesn’t have any students to avoid her, but she is being avoided all the same. After she turned one of Warren’s many jeeps into a Rubic’s Cube sized block of metal, most think it’s best to just go the other way when she’s spotted. It was in her way.

Hank McCoy, Beast the intelligent blue-furred doctor spends most of his time in research now. His First Aid Basic’s is no-longer worth making the trip to the cold and sterile medical facility where his classes are best conducted; not to be annoyingly growled at for twenty minutes while you are sweating though the list of Aid kit’s standard contents or feeling hot arid breath on the back of your neck while you’re trying to apply the butterfly bandage to your *patient*. This class is mandatory and reports are being written on the non-progress in the back of the mind while the Instructor fiddles with the chemical base for another experiment.

Warren Worthington III, the blue-skinned, winged mutant first among the school’s students isn’t an Instructor either and only stays at the mansion when on-call. He has elevated the ‘cold shoulder’ into an art form. It’s safest for him this way he’s decided, after nearly getting his feathers ‘plucked’ by Wolverine, his shower and all boxer shorts ice-coated by Iceman, and his nose nearly optical-blast removed by Cyclops when he went the wrong way during a danger-room session. He finds its best just to not say anything anymore unless he’s sure he’s got wing-room. ~Who would have thought all that would happen just from saying ‘good morning’?~ After those minor incidents, Warren also thinks its best to just not say anything about his wallet either, and no he won’t feel sorry for Bobby or Scott when they try and use the credit cards they don’t think he knows about. Just because he’s rich and blonde doesn’t mean he’s stupid, he’s just decided he’d rather not have anything suddenly explode in his vicinity. Gambit has extraordinary aim and doesn’t seem taken with the ‘no powers against team-mates’ ethic the rest of them try and follow.
((((
“I still think you should reconsider Bobby,” Jubilation Lee says from the depths of the closet where she is searching for her duffle bag. “I’m not gonna stick around this place, not when I’ve got an open invite to Emma’s Academy. I’d be a fool not to take this chance…besides; things are getting way too strange around here for me.”

Robert Drake, known to his friends as Bobby, and Iceman to the world watches quietly as the young girl methodically packs. “Couldn’t agree with you more Jube’s, thing is I’m considered part of the Senior Staff, even if it is only when the team’s short of members. I can’t leave.”

The dark haired girl nods in understanding as she continues to stuff her things into the large green bag. When she has everything she wants for the moment she and Bobby head down to the main floor and out the front door where a white van is pulling up the long drive bordered by beautifully manicured rolling green lawns.

Everyone has been affected, everyone except Bobby, the Professor, and Gambit. At least now, but when he’d first come back from the failed mission in San Francisco, he’d packed a bag and moved into the boat house. He couldn’t get away from Logan and Scott fast enough and Ororo had been concerned about the haunted look in his eyes.  What worried Storm the most is that she has a sneaking suspicion. A suspicion that there is a reason behind it all, and once again her thief’s training allows her a glimpse of the possible larger scheme as she watches a ‘revived’ Gambit channel surfing in the den.

? Host - Hey ya’ll, welcome back to E.B.B….
? Fake studio audience - [Every Bodies Binizs!]
? …coming up next is our EBB-clusive mini-interview with a very interesting young music artist
? [Who, who tell us who]
? Wellll….our mobile team just happened to be in …Oakland, Ca. of all places [imagine that] and was lucky enough to talk with Riot right after the In-store.
? [Oooohhhhhhh]
? It seems the young rap-artist and his business partner were almost MOBBED when the two arrived for the much lauded event…and once again, that *Hot Rocket* of a young man had the masses like putty in his hands. They sure do Love that Boy…*I know I do ho-ney*

Intrigued, the frost haired mutant moves further into the room. She’s not sure what to think as she spares a quick look at the lazy sprawl of limbs that signify Gambit on the couch and Bobby lounging in a nearby recliner. Her startling blue eyes dart back to the syndicated program hosted by a computer generated ‘hootchie-mamma-virtual-girl’ in a neon pink plastic mini, matching halter and snappy white thigh-high hooker boots with 6-inch ‘come fuck me’ heels. Storm doesn’t know if she wants to be offended or laugh as she shakes her head at the ‘ghetto-booty-Lil’Kim-wanna be virtual-girl’ holding court in her ‘virtual-world’ full of ridiculous backdrops and bad graphics.

? Welll ya’ll…nah come da 411 on the Boy-Toy Rap Wanna be [gasp]
? When asked about his ever present black and yellow racing jacket and the meaning of the hologram on the back…our camera’s caught…..this…[unnnnnmmmm]

? Camera crew – quick shot of Riot grinning towards a lavender eyed young man – [dubbed over voice in] “…all I’m willing to say is that it was a peace offering from someone very important in my life…the letters…hmmm neva mind dat, ya hurd m’” [trade mark Riot snicker] – fade back to host

? Humph, as if we ain’t got clues an stuff…..what that boy need ta do is find another laugh. Ya’ll know what I’m say’in here….the Snoopy-snicker just ain’t ho-ney! – Head ticks to the right one boney arm flailing the air and fingers snapping, the other hand on plastic-ed hips. “It ain’t like we ain’ know’in jus who he hint’in at….devastating delicious oh ho-ney if I ever get mah hands on dat boy, Devon Dexter. Um-hm ya hurd me! ’Dev’-to his closest friends like Rich the Riot and the notoriously savvy Wall Street super-player Lex Luthor oh I just LOVE name dropping ya’ll it make me feel so *special* [tiny body shiver on the screen]- Dexter, hottest new male-supermodel, Co-founder, co-owner and president of Dexter Design, Ltd.

Bobby and Remy are laughing as the credits roll and the little virtual-girl jerks and struts around on the playground setting. She stops just long enough to toss out,

?  An dat’s all the Binizs we got. So y’all get a grip till nex week when EBB dishes da 411 on….

The crackle of professor Xavier’s voice over the com-links, “Gambit, would you please come to my office now.” The two men exchange a look and Gambit swaggers out.
((((
“I guess the next time you tell me you can accomplish something I’ll take your word Gambit.”

“Dat’s bien m’suier, trés bien. Allors m’suier, shall we discuss de final transaction?”

“Yes, yes of course but I wonder if I may ask about the third target?”

“Remy gon’ leave dat one ‘lone…’sides, I tink I proved my point, oui?”

Smiling now Charles studies the over confident and arrogant young man across from him. “A bit of fear perhaps hmmm?” his smug look is met with the other man’s poker-face.

Red-in-black eyes crinkle near their outer corners, “Non m’suier, Caution. Somemat you may wanna lean in de near future non? Dat one b‘longs to Frost and we got an unnerstanding us. ‘Sides, Bobby help Remy get de first one and bait de leader,” Gambit tosses this off with studied indifference.

“Hmmm, I’d wondered why he hadn’t been affected.” This presented new possibilities. “I’ll have a little chat with our your Bobby Drake.”

“Non, m’suier, you won’t. He’s been recalled ‘ready. Emma sent de boy f’ special trainin’,” smug easy grin.

“I see.”

“D’accord.”

Charles Xavier has an even deeper respect for the other man now, but still, he doesn’t like anyone trying to out maneuver him. He decides to play his trump card. ~I’ll just send you along to meet ol’ Nathaniel Essex my wonderful boy~ Charles chuckles darkly as he tosses the fat brown package down on the desk between them.

“A deposit and your next assignment. Its always a pleasure.” His laughter is joined by the sultry sounds of soft-gravel and southern comfort.

~Does de man never learn~ and red-in-black eyes sparkle with hidden secrets.
((((
Logan flicks a glance at the time display, 1 am. The X-man known as Wolverine is standing his turn in the X-men’s mini-security office. He doesn’t mind pulling the midnight shift he prefers it now. During these quiet hours he can be alone and just relax. His thoughts are still in a tangle. This very surreal repeat of history serves to remind him as his intense blue eyes refocus on the surveillance monitor. Wisp of bluish/gray smoke curl up from somewhere on his right as he watches a sleek dark figure pushing an equally sleek bike out of the garage and down the long dark drive. ~if that boy don’t stop stealin my wheels I’m gonna hafta’*hurt*em~

Beyond the gate waits a black Escalade with two figures leaning against it. The Cadillac emblems have been replaced with a holographic RD symbol.

“Everything Kewel? We didn’t forget anything in the boathouse..”

“Nope. I cleaned up the mes you left in the shower.”

“Oui, bien…like tak’in cany from a bébé homme.”

“Right, let’s bounce.” Tri-colored head nods toward the bike, “you really gonna take his bike?”

“Yep.”

“Dude…that’s wicked….”

“Leave him alone Rio, if he wants the bike he takes it...let’s bounce!”

“D’accord Dev. Baldy made de final transaction yesterday…an de ol’ bátards even fronted a deposit on de nex job.”

Lavender eyes blink. “We’re doing another job for him?”

“Non,” flash of red coals, dazzling smile as Gambit swings his leg over the sleek bike. Richard is putting the Cajun’s bag in the back of the luxury s.u.v. “Fo’ da one ‘ready nex on our schedule.”

“Dayum Rem, you are off da hook dude. K, so who plays point on the Sinny gig?” Richard wants to know.

The two young men trade one final conspiratorial look before dark visor drops and the bike roars to life. The dark young men slip into their purring black luxury machine and they are leaving the fading after-image of red as the night swallows them up.
((((
END BLOCK