1835
By Nicole Wagner: The Deadly Gambit
Main Characters: Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Logan (Wolverine), Professor Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy (Beast), Rogue and Oliver Trask. (Others may soon follow, it's undecided.)
Content: Some slight gore, language, violence, torture, and slavery
Summary: The year is 1835, and Remy LeBeau is a young runaway in New Orleans. He becomes hungry and one day steals from a bakery. The owner catches him and notices his strange eyes, figuring the young man could make him some money and replace the goods he had stolen. Remy soon finds himself being sold in the slave markets of New Orleans, where he is bought by a plantation owner, and things go bad from there.
Rating: R
Marvel owns all the characters in this story. A few are made by me, and I'm sure you'll be able to tell who owns who. I am not making any profit from my stories, so please, do not sue me.
I would like to take this time to give special thanks to the following people: BJ, my lovely lil' beta and helper of ideas (She stops the writer's blocks! BJ's my good luck charm!), Ivan (Lady Bethia's Husband, he helped do the historical research for this story. Love you, Ivan!), and of course Lady Bethia, for her hard work on spell checking and beta work on this story. Oh, and before I forget, I would also like to thank the lovely Ponderosa for doing commission artwork for this story and my dear friend Diibish who also did artwork for the story! I love you all!!
1835
By Nicole Wagner: The Deadly Gambit
Chapter 1
Like most days in old New Orleans, it was sunny with barely a cloud in the sky. You could hear the rumbling of horse carriages and buggies on the streets, and the use of the French language from most of the natives. There were a few plantations miles away, where slaves would work to pick cotton or tobacco plants, and there were the slave markets, where those of color or "witches" would try to avoid. This was old New Orleans... this was May 17th, 1835.
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Remy LeBeau was a street thief. He had been abandoned once he reached the age of six, due to his strange eyes. His own parents called him the "Devil's Child" or "Le Diable Blanc" for his appearance. He remember how they often would try and "beat" the devil out of his body, force him to sit in a room and try to repent for the way he looked and the so called "evil" that was inside of him. When all of their efforts had failed, he was left to fend for himself on the cold streets. That was around ten years ago, and now he just lived in the shadows, dressed in some old clothes a rich man had thrown in his trash can. The young man was of Cajun blood, not pure French and
often hated for that as well. There was no love for the young man, and he no longer felt like he should love anyone, either.
The streets had turned Remy into a cold hearted thief. He often had the only fear of being discovered and forced to the slave markets, like others whom had strange powers. People like him were called "Witches"... they where hated and shunned by all of society. If one was found, they were often killed in the streets or brought to the slave markets to be sold as slaves. A slight shiver went up his spine as a thought of being sold to some man as a labor worker hit him. He had to be careful on the streets, but he had to survive as well.
The young man watched from the shadows of an alley as a bakery started to open up. The scent of fresh croissants and bread filled the air, making him salivate slightly. It had been a good day or two since he had anything to eat, and the store owner looked too old to chase him down the cobble stone streets. Perhaps this would be an easy meal for the thief to get. Quickly, Remy ran towards the bakery, trying not to be seen as his hand moved to take one of the loafs of bread out on display. As soon as his hand touched it, he felt a stick hit him in the back, forcing a cry of pain to escape his lips, and his body to fall to the ground. The old man had seemed to pack a strong amount of strength, and Remy had underestimated him.
"Thief! How dare you even attempt to steal from me! I should call the... " The old store owner looked down at the young man before him, taking in the sight of his strange red on black eyes. The eyes of the devil. "Merdi... Saints preserve our souls... Le Diable Blanc."
The man was now in shock over the sight of Remy's eyes. Now was his time to escape, but that opportunity was soon diminished. Other store owners hurried over to see what was going on, and they surrounded him like a bunch of blow flies over a corpse. There was no escape, and now he would probably be killed. All over a loaf of bread.
"He's one of them witches!" A man shouted, pointing down at Remy. "We should kill him right now, before he tries to cast a spell on us!"
"Why kill him?" Asked the bakery owner, looking towards the men. "He ruined three cents worth of bread by touching it with his slimy fingers. Perhaps I should just sell him at the markets to make up for the loss! I could even profit, he looks young and strong enough to work in a plantation..."
"Good idea! It's better to make a profit off of the living, because you cannot profit from the dead." Another man stated. He bend down, helping to drag Remy up to his feet, while another quickly grabbed some rope from his shop and started to bind his hands with it. "Let us hurry! The Markets close by sunset!"
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Remy groaned and struggled weakly with the men who had captured him. His luck had finally run out, and now one of his worst nightmares was coming true. He was going to be sold at the slave market, just like how the baker would sell his bread. He would be put on display and given to the highest paying customer, and there was no escape for him. His strange eyes widened as he was dragged towards the market. A man in a tall top hat was standing on a stage, showing off a beautiful colored woman with long white hair. He claimed her to be a witch as well, one with the powers that could control the weather and make the crops of a plantation owner's land grow to the best. He listened to the bids, then watched as she was sold to a man with blond hair for around five dollars. Before he could look back at her, he was already being shoved on stage by the Bakery owner and several of the shop keepers.
"Looks like we have one last slave to bid off today, gentlemen" Said the man in the large top hat. He quickly grabbed Remy by his long auburn hair, dragging him closer on the stage so all the buyers could see. "He appears to be some witch, like the last one, but with eyes of the devil. This boy looks young and strong and will probably live a long time because of his youth. Let us start the bidding at a penny!"
"I'll pay a penny for him!" Shouted one man from his seat.
"I'll pay two cents for the boy!" Shouted another.
"I'll buy him for a full dollar!" That voice stunned the crowd. No one appeared to be able to beat this man's bid. It was the same blond haired man whom had bought the so called "Weather Witch" from earlier. He gave a gentle smile to the crowd, knowing no one would be able to beat him, and this "witch" was going to be his as well.
"This slave is sold to Mister Oliver Trask for one full dollar!" Shouted the man in the large top hat, slamming his hand upon the podium near Remy. "The auctions are now closed, come back again tomorrow and we will have a new shipment of slaves in for all of you to bid on!"
Before a simple word or protest could be uttered from his lips, Remy found himself being dragged off the platform he had been forced on, and towards his new owner. He notice that this Oliver Trask had a slight accent, and figured him to be a Yankee from New York or some other state. Remy also took notice of his eyes, they seemed so cold and cruel, just staring down at him as if he were nothing. He gasped slightly, feeling the man's hand grab a hold of his jaw, and forcing his head to the side, as if looking for marks.
"My, what a pretty boy you are. I'm sure I will make good use of you on the plantation." Oliver stated, quickly letting go of Remy's face and moving his hands to connect the rope that bound the young man's wrists together with the beautiful colored woman's. He grabbed the free end of the rope and started walking with it, as if the two new witches he had acquired were nothing more than prized horses he had bought. He lead them over to a horse and carriage, taking the rope that he had and tying it to the back of the carriage, as he got in, shouting at the driver to bring him home, forcing the two slaves to walk behind him.
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Remy did not know how far he had walked behind the carriage. If he could count, it would probably be a large number, something big and outrageous. There was a large frown upon his face as he continued to walk on, the young Cajun's feet becoming sore from all of the walking, but at least he had shoes on. He looked back at the colored woman who was sold to Trask, right before he was. She had long, beautiful white hair, that reminded him of the clouds in the sky, her skin was not as dark as other colored people that he had seen. It was a bit lighter and looked rather soft. He was saddened she had no shoes on her feet, and thought of how wrong he was to complain in his own mind about his own feet, when hers probably hurt much more. He noticed the heavy cotton dress she wore, probably made by herself or another slave, and then quickly adverted his eyes, fearing that his stares were making her uncomfortable.
"You plan to run, don't you?" The young colored woman spoke to Remy, in such a gentle voice. He never remembered anyone talking to him like this before. Her lovely voice rang quietly in his ears, once more. "That is a terrible idea... "
"Ah ain' gonna stay in some Plantation as a slave! Once dese ropes be off mah body, ah'm gonna run..." Remy spoke, his native, Cajun tongue showing off his colorful accent. There was no way in hell he would stay around with some Yankee Plantation Owner, he was going to run, and going to get away, as well.
"Men like Master often punish slaves greatly for trying to run away. I have seen it before." The young woman's eyes lowered to the ground as the two continued on, the Plantation now within their sights. "Just give in, do as he says and I assure you there will be no pain... "
"Never... ah'll never call him Mas'er or anyt'ing!" Remy looked back at her, his exotic eyes watching as her head lowered while walking. " Ah ain' gots a Mas'er, ah never will!" His frown grew, now seeing the large Plantation before his eyes. It was huge, with large trees on either side of the road that led up to the main house. Miles and miles of cotton fields could be seen before his eyes, each field with five slaves working on it. He noticed a few, small looking houses for the slaves far off from the main house, a large house for the kitchen, and what looked like a barn in the distance. He took note of the main house's exterior. It was built like the mansion he had seen
in some parts of New Orleans. The carriage stopped right by one of the slave houses, and Remy watched as Trask got out, walking towards the lovely African woman and untying the rope around her neck and wrists.
"You, my lovely "Weather Witch" shall make the clouds around my Plantation disappear. " Trask stated, pointing up towards the cloudy sky above them. " And since you control the weather, I shall name you Storm. A fitting name for a slave such as yourself. "
Remy was amazed as the young colored woman raised her hands into the air, her lovely blue eyes turning completely white, and the sky above them started to clear. What was left of the daytime was now showing, a pink sky and the sun could now be seen towards the west of them. He had never seen such power in his life. Did she know voodoo, or was she really a "witch" like himself. His gaze was soon lowered, when Trask began to untie him, removing the ropes on his wrists and neck, as he had done to Storm. As soon as his neck was free from the ropes, Remy bolted from task, running as fast as he could.
"Someone stop him!! He's escaping!!" Trask shouted to his guards. They were horsemen who watched over the slaves as they worked, making sure they did as told and often flogged them if they moved too slow or too care-lessly. One of them quickly rode in front of Remy, forcing the young man to fall back on his feet, to avoid running into a horse. Another came in from behind the fallen Cajun, jumping off his horse and quickly tying a rope around his wrists. He jumped back on his horse and before Remy could run again, he started to ride towards Trask, dragging Remy along the dirt path when his horse moved too fast.
Trask walked over towards Remy, looking down at the man who was dragged over towards him. His eyes showed a fury in them as he grabbed the young man by his hair, forcing a cry of pain to escape Remy's lips, and his eyes to meet that of his angry master. "You pathetic boy! You dare try to run away from me!? After what I paid for you, you ungrateful slave!" Trask swung his hand towards Remy, quickly back fisting the boy's face and leaving a red mark on the right side of it. He then grabbed the young man's shirt, ripping it open and stripping it from his body. "I guess I'll have to teach you your place here! Tie him to the tree by the slave house, and get my whip! I shall make an example of him towards the other slaves! No one runs away from Oliver Trask!"
Remy found himself being dragged towards a tree right behind one of the slave houses. The horseman threw a rope over a sturdy branch, then gave it a good tug, forcing Remy's hands over his head in a rather painful manor. His back was towards everyone, and he could not see who was watching and who wasn't, but he did hear voices and footsteps towards his hung body, and a hand pulling at his ponytail, forcing his head back slightly.
"Now all of you will watch! This is what happens if you try and run away from me!" Trask shouted, looking over towards the small gathering of slaves that were made to come and bare witness to Remy's Punishment. One of the horseman moved over to Trask, handing him his whip, a cat of nine tails which had sharp metal pieces imbedded in each section of it. Trask moved a few feet away from Remy and began to swing the whip over his head, without warning, he cracked it along Remy's back, forcing the young man to scream in pain, cutting open his flesh and leaving a bloody welt behind.
Remy was screaming in complete pain, he could feel the salty tears escape his eyes and travel down his chiseled face. Trask would swing the whip around, and Remy would never know when he was going to be hit with it. He was always kept off guard, thinking he would stop, only to be lashed with it once more. His throat began to get sore from the horrible screams of agony that escape his lips, his back was completely covered in blood, and there were now a total of twenty five welts on his back, each one over-lapping the other one. Trask finally stopped, leaving Remy to hang by his arms, for his legs finally gave out in the pain.
"Let this be a lesson to anyone that tries to escape this Plantation!" Trask shouted, handing the now bloody whip to one of his horsemen. "Let his scars be a reminder to all of you! And if you dare try to run away from me again, boy, I will have your legs cut off and fed to the pigs! Now back to work! All of you!"
The next sound Remy heard, was the large group of slaves leaving him to hang by that rope tied about his slender wrists. He could feel the blood running all the way down his back, and his arms growing numb from hanging by them for so long. Trask moved back over to Remy, standing in front of the young boy with a sadistic smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be slapped once more by his new Master.
"You were never given permission to speak to your Master, boy!" Trask yelled, his eyes moving towards the tears that stained that handsome face. "You are quite interesting... such a strong will you display. You've never been a slave before, that I can tell, otherwise you would have been submissive like Storm over there. It looks like I am going to have to break you, boy... and break you hard. Tonight, you are going to stay outside, no food, no water. You are just going to remain here as you are, until you realize your place in society. If you do not call me Master or attempt to fight me once more, I will turn you around and whip the front of you, until it is as bloody as your back!" Without anymore words or insults, Trask simply walked away from Remy, leaving him hanging rather painfully by his wrists.
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Once Trask had left Remy, the sun started to disappear, and the slaves were no longer working, instead them all went into the slave houses to cook dinner and get ready for bed. Remy could hear them, some sounded cheerful, others angry at the situation of being slaves, and many fearing what could happen if they disobey their Master, like Remy had done. Though one woman was rather silent in one of the slave houses, tonight. Instead of talking with the others, she grabbed a bucket and a wooden cup from a table, and walking outside with it. Luckily for her, no one noticed.
The young colored woman with white hair, the woman named Storm, walked out of one of the slave houses. She was carrying a bucket filled with water and walking towards Remy, who was still in much pain. She took the wooden cup that was placed inside of the bucket and dipped it in. Inside the bucket, it was filled with cold, fresh water from a near-by stream. Her hands carefully placed the wooden up to Remy's lips, allowing the younger man to sip from it. Her face saddened when he started drinking the water as if he were dying, gulping it up rather quickly and allowing the water he missed to spill down his chest.
"You cannot keep doing this, child" Storm spoke gently, slowly pulling the now empty cup from his lips. "Why do you not just give in? I told you it would have been less painful if you did not runaway. Now Master is furious with you. You will forever be known as a runaway, and be treated badly for it. I have seen this happen to many of my slave brothers and sisters before... "
"Ah ain' a slave, chere... " Remy stammered, his back was hurting him even more, now, and he could feel a few bugs started crawling over him, or was it just the feeling of the blood dripping down his bare back? "Ah ain' like you... ah can' be like you... "
"You are talking foolish, child. If you continue defying Master, he will eventually kill you." Storm heard a sound near by, fearing it was one of the horsemen who watched after the slaves. She quickly turned her attention back to Remy and spoke once more. " I must go now, before I am caught. I pray to the Goddess you come to your senses, and that you stay save, tonight." She then gathered up the wooden cup and bucket she brought to Remy and started to head back into the slave house.
"Chere?"
"Yes, child?" Storm slowly turned around, looking at the back of the young man who hung form the tree, wondering what else he had to say to her.
"T'ank you... fer de water. " Remy tried to turn his head and look back at Storm, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "Dat was de nicest t'ing anyone ever did fer mah... an' mah name ain' "child"...it's Remy."
"You are welcome... Remy." With those final words, Storm left Remy by himself. Saddened that the poor boy was acting so foolishly. He was going to suffer a great amount of pain with such a free spirit, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to change that. With a sigh escaping her lips, she placed down the bucket of water where it had been and went to her bed, praying that Remy would come to his senses by morning, and avoid a rather painful experience.
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Remy had not fallen asleep that night. His arms felt so sore, like they were going to just pop off him at any given moment. His back was now covered in open welts, various bug bites from over the night, and his ankles had been gnawed at by vermin in the area, leaving swollen looking marks about them. He could hear the familiar walking pattern of that Yankee slaver, moving closer to him until he was in front of his body. His strange, yet demon like eyes watched as Trask looked at him, as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat hanging by a rope in a butcher shop.
"Have you come to your senses, boy?" Trask asked him in that Yankee accented voice, looking at the young man with interest. "I came up with a name for you overnight. You are unpredictable, much like the Queen's Gambit chess play a friend of mine uses, there-fore I shall call you Gambit. If you had another name before the one I just gave you now, you should forget it. For it shall never be spoken again."
Remy only glared at him. "Gambit" was going to be his new name? His eyes narrowed at Trask, watching him smirk and rub his chin, as if awaiting for Remy to thank him for this new name. No chance in hell that was going to happen. Instead, Remy spat at Trask, making the man angry, more angry than he had been the night before. A strong slap came across his face, enough to knock Remy's head to the side and loosen the ribbon that kept his long auburn hair in a ponytail.
"How dare you treat your Master like this!!" Shouted the enraged slaver. He came prepared with the same whip he used on Remy's back the other night. He singled a horseman over and had him change the direction of the rope Remy was hanging form. His back was now towards Trask and the large tree, and he was now facing the slave houses. Remy could see the other slaves now at work, and the woman he met last night, the woman named Storm watching him from a few cotton plants. Her eyes were filled with such sadness as Trask moved back in front of Remy. Trask swung the cat of nine tails over his head, and quickly struck Remy in the chest, leaving behind an open welt like the ones on his back.
The whip hurt far more on his chest than it had upon Remy's back, and he let out a cry of pain, loud enough for the whole plantation to hear. Blood began to drip down his chest, which made Oliver Trask smile, much like a Cheshire cat. His face quickly turned to a frown as he looked back at the boy and began to yell at him. "You shall call me your Master, boy! Say it and your name and I will stop!"
Tears flooded Remy's eyes as he felt the leather and metal parts of the whip hit his chest, ripping open his flesh and leaving behind a deep gash that would become a scar later on. Remy found his mouth open, a terrible scream escaping it, one of such suffering and pain, enough to make the skin crawl on another being. He watched helplessly as another welt was added, then another... His screams only got worse and worse and his throat eventually getting sore from all of his cries of agony.
Oliver Trask could not get enough of the boy's screams. They were music to his ears, while to others, a horrible experience. He happily swung his whip above his head, letting it circle a few moments, before striking his new slave once more on the chest. He could see the blood dripping and rolling down that thin chest, the salty tears of the boy escaping down his chin and landing in the wounds he created, making a much more painful experience. He was about to hit him with his whip for the twenty sixth time, when he heard a weak stammering from the boy's lips.
"M-mah name... is... Gambit. M'sorry.... Mas'er... " Remy stammered weakly. the pain was too much for him and Remy felt as if he would die if such torture were to continue. He had no choice, he had to give up his name, his freedom, everything if he wanted this agonizing pain to stop. He watched as Trask moved closer to him, placing the end of the whip under his chin, and lifting his head up to look into the older man's cold, cruel eyes.
"Say it louder, boy... Louder!" The demand was made, and Trask watched his helpless slave. The young man's lips were twitching as his mouth opened to speak, to say the things he wanted to hear, his slave finally giving up and accepting him as a Master, and his new name.
"M-mah... n-name.... is.... Gamb-bit... M's-sorry... Mas'er... " Spoke Remy, once more. But this time, he spoke as loud as he could, the pain becoming unbearable for him, and finally, he allowed himself to slip into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.
"Someone cut him down from that tree and bring him back to the slave house! He will start his work in the morning!" Trask shouted at one of the slaves, watching as one of them walked over with a small knife, cutting the rope two inches before it met Gambit's wrists. Trask couldn't help but smile, watching the young man's body fall right before his feet, and the slave untying his hands, then dragging his body back to the Slave House for the rest of the day. The little runaway might have given in because of the pain, but Trask was going to make sure he did not just say that to avoid getting hit anymore. No, this slave was going to pay during his entire life at this Plantation. Gambit would be punished for making him look bad, at all costs.
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Remy... no... his name was now Gambit, awoke from the darkness of unconsciousness. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream, that he would find himself sleeping in the bayou, free from slavery, and happy. Once his eyes started to open, he realized it was not a bad dream, it was reality. He found himself laying on his side, a surge of pain started to fly up his chest and back when he tried to move. A forced cry of incredible discomfort escaped his bruised lips, which made someone walk over to him, the woman named Storm. She slowly knelt down by his side, placing her gentle hand on his arm.
"Gambit, please, do not move, not yet." The woman pleaded with him, moving her body so he could see her face. "The more you move, the more your wounds will hurt. Just lay still, for now."
"It h-hurts... " He was still stammering, his voice quivering with a mixture of pain and fear when Gambit spoke. Tears filled his strange eyes as the young man tried to look up at Storm, despite the fact he was so weak and in so much pain. "It... It h-hurts bad..."
"I know, Gambit... it will hurt badly for a few days, then it will start to scar over. I wished you would have just given in, and not shown so much anger towards Master..." A few tears fell from her lovely blue eyes, as she looked down upon the young man. She could not imagine how much pain he was in, but knew in her heart it was probably grave, for how he cried and screamed at times. Her hand gently ran through his long auburn strands of hair, trying to calm him down like a mother would do to a child. Perhaps a change of conversation would calm the young man down, even take his mind off the pain. "Gambit, what is it like?"
"W-what... is what like, Storm?" Gambit moved his eyes to look up at her, trying not to cry anymore. He must have looked so weak to everyone at the plantation, now. The pain was still surging over his chest and back, but his mind was curious over what Storm was asking him.
"What is freedom like, Gambit? You were free before you became a slave... You see, I was never free. I was born and raised as a slave, and always wondered what freedom was like. Please... tell me." Her voice dripped with honesty as she spoke. Storm was born and raised as a slave, nothing more. She never had experienced freedom in her entire life, though asking the young man such a thing while he was in a great deal of pain made her feel selfish.
"Freedom... it was beautiful... " Gambit swallowed hard, just looking up at Storm. Her face was so honest and beautiful, unlike anyone else he had ever seen in his life. She spoke so nicely towards him, as well. No one had ever treated him with such kindness or concern for his health. Taking a deep breathing and trying to fight back the pain he felt, Remy continued to talk about the freedom he once had, all lost over a piece of bread. "Ah... ah coulda done whatever ah wanted.... go where ever ah wanted... but it was limited... ah... ah 'ad to hide in de shadows... 'cause if someone saw mah eyes... dey'd hurt mah... or send me... to a place like dis... But ah... ah took it all fer granted, every bit o' it... now ah'm here, Storm. An' mah life... mah life feels like she is over."
Storm felt awful, from what Gambit was telling her, she had started to feel a great amount of jealousy inside of her. He was able to live free at one time, where she had not. But she realized that when he spoke, the pain seemed less and less, for he was not thinking about it. Despite her growing jealousy and the guilt that came along with it, Storm reached her hand out to the side of his face, gently stroking it. "Please, Gambit... tell me more of your freedom... I would like to hear more."
For an hour or so, Gambit told her tales of his freedom. Of being able to sleep and wake when ever he wanted. How he would lay in the swamps and bayous of New Orleans, listening to the crickets sing their songs of joy and sorrow, as his eyes would gaze upon the stars.
Storm listened to his stories carefully, picturing every moment of freedom Gambit had experience in her mind. It was such a beautiful sight in her head, and such a wonderful feeling. He soon stopped speaking all together, right in the middle of the smells of fresh flowers and a bakery where spoken of. Concerned, Storm leaned over, making sure he was alright, only to notice the young man had finally fallen asleep. His own talking and images had taken away his pain, and drifted him into the lovely world he spoke of in his mind. A smile came across her flawless face, as she bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead.
"Good night, my dear friend... and thank you. You have given me something no one has every given me... a feeling of hope, and a place to go to in my dreams." Storm spoke softly, leaving Gambit's bedside to move towards her own, where she too fell asleep, and into the lovely world Gambit had spoken of, a world of freedom.
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The sun had started to rise, and the sounds of the rooster's call could be heard. Gambit let out a groan of pain, his chest and back still hurting rather badly as he sat up in his straw bed. He knew that he had to work today, or else Trask threatened to do more harm to him if there was any form of refusal. His head turned to the side, finding the shirt he wore when he first came to this horrid place by his bed. It had a large tear in the middle of it, but he could still wear it. Storm must have been kind enough to save it for him, when the Master ripped it from his body and towards the ground during his whippings. Gambit shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of those events out of his mind, as he placed the shirt on his body, getting off of his bed, and heading out of the slave house to do his chores.
Storm was already up and out of bed. Gambit was amazed that she was up so early, or was he late for his work on the Plantation? Either way, she slowly turned to him with a smile on her face, handing him a straw basket. "How are you this morning, brother?"
"Sore... m'back an' chest still hurt really bad." Gambit spoke with all honesty, as he tried to keep his shirt closed, though it now had a few buttons missing. His hand moved over, taking the basket from Storm's hand, then looking up at her, rather puzzled. " An' why do you call mah broder? Ah don' understand, Storm... ah ain' been loved or nuthin' , yet you givin' mah comfort when ah in pain, an' now de title o' yah "broder"."
"Because you gave me something wonderful in return, last night, Gambit. You gave me a wonderful dream, and you spoke to me as a person. No one has ever spoken to me or told me such stories like that in my entire life. For that, I am grateful. That is why I call you my brother." Her slender hands moved towards Gambit, and gave him his basket. Storm smiled as she started to make her way to the cotton fields. "Come along, now, Brother. It is time to work. If we do not get to picking the cotton soon, Master will have you punished again."
A slow sigh escaped Gambit's lips, as he followed Storm towards the cotton fields. This was his life now, a slave for a terrible Yankee Master, and there was nothing he could do. This was the start of a new life... and a horrible nightmare that refused to end.
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The suns rays could be felt on Gambit's aching back and chest as he knelt down near a cotton plant, carefully picking the cotton off of it, one at a time. The work was very tedious and slow, and he also had to remove any bugs or larva that could ruin the plant. He hated this with a passion, and the sun just seemed to make things harder. When it hit his sensitive eyes, he would have to stop for a few seconds to try and adjust his vision and go back to work. If he took too long, a horseman would ride up and hit him with a stick on the shoulders, sometimes on his still wounded back, creating a horrible sensation of pain.
He had been on the Plantation for a month now, learning how to pick cotton and remove bugs from the plants, thanks to Storm's advice and help. Though his back was still not completely healed, Gambit continued to work, not having any choice in the manner. Master Trask would often come up and threaten him with a flogging if he did not comply, and made it a daily habit of humiliating him, by pushing him into a mud puddle or tripping him and telling him how clumsy he was. Gambit had grown to hate this way of life. He had grown to hate the horsemen, Master Trask, everyone but his beloved Storm. She was the only one that was kind to him on the plantation, and for that, he adored her.
A small smile crept along Storm's face, watching her dear brother work by her side in one of the many cotton fields. She knew how badly he hated the work and this way of life, but he was adapting quite well, and gave her a huge amount of respect. It warmed her heart to know someone had cared for her so much. Her eyes then saddened, watching as Trask walked over to Gambit, taking his cane and hitting him across the back with it, forcing a cry from her brother's lips as he nearly fell over.
"Stupid boy!" Trask shouted, striking the young man's still injured back with his cane. He truly loved to degrade and harm this one slave. After all, he had made him into a fool in front of everyone else. For the rest of his service here, he would punish the boy for defying him, and just for the pure pleasure out of it. "You are working too slow! Move faster!"
"I... I can' Mas'er." Gambit weakly looked up at Trask, his body was aching so badly and his face showed the pain and anger in it that he was feeling right now. "Mas'er keep beatin' mah... it slow mah down. Ah in such pain... makes mah work so slow, Mas'er."
"You dare even talk back to me!?" He could not believe the strong will on this young slave. Gambit had actually told him he could not do something, and it was because of him. Trask grabbed Remy by his long auburn hair, forcing the young man to stand up straight in front of him. "You certainly have a mouth on you boy... perhaps I should cut that tongue out, hmm? Then you wouldn't dare be so sassy with me, would you?"
Those red on black eyes or Remy's narrowed at Trask. He wanted to punch the man and just run so badly, that it made his fists shake. But he knew he could not do such a thing, not without getting punished badly. His lips twitched into a frown and he spoke to Trask, trying not to sound like he was in any pain, though his hair was being pulled so roughly and his body ached from healing scars. "M'sorry, Mas'er Trask... it won' 'appen again."
"It better not, boy... for your sake it better not!" his hand finally was released from his slave's soft, auburn hair. Trask couldn't help but stare down at the boy as he went back to work. He paid a full dollar for him, and Gambit had been nothing but trouble since day one. Once he had released Remy, he noticed that the young slave's red on black eyes glowed briefly, and began to believe the boy wasn't just a witch, but the devil himself. Perhaps if the devil would leave the slave, he would be more obedient and work faster, or better yet, become human. Trask frowned even more as he looked down at the slave, then walked to his stable, getting an idea. He got upon his horse and rode off of the plantation grounds in what seemed like a hurry, leaving his horsemen to watch over his slaves.
" 'ow de hell can you stand livin' like dis?" Remy spoke softly, seeing as Trask was gone now, and Storm was by his side. The two watched briefly as their Master had rode off on one of his horses.
"It is all I know, Remy. This is the only way of life I know." Storm's eyes gazed over at her slave brother. He looked as if he were in so much pain, and there was nothing she could do to ease it. "Please, brother... do not get so angry. I fear you will be punished again if you say something back to Master. Your back and chest are still healing, and I do not think you can take another beating without getting hurt badly."
"Oui, chere... ah know." Remy finally gave out a small smile. Storm was always so concerned with him, checking his wounds at the end of the day and offering to share her bed with him, to make sure he stayed warm. She was all Remy had in the godforsaken place... and all he ever truly loved. "Ah'll behave... fer you. Ah don' wanna see you upset because o' mah foolishness... so ah be a good boy fer you, chere."
Storm smiled at her brother. Though he tended to be sassy and tough at times, he could still be kind-hearted and loving as well. Remy often gave her some of the food from his dinner if she were still hungry, and often told her stories of what it was like to be free. He was a ray of sunshine in her life, and honored to call him her brother. It would soon be dusk, and the two would probably go back into their slave house and talk some more, eat, and then go to sleep, like the two have always done since they had gotten there. Little did Storm know, that routine was going to change, tonight.
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"The boy has eyes of the devil! There must be something you can do!" Oliver shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoed about the large church he was in. His eyes darted to the three Priests before him. They were dressed in brown robs like monks and listening to all he had to say about the slave boy known as Gambit. "The boy never listens to me, disobeys my orders as a slave, and is just plain evil! You must be able to drive the wickedness out of him!"
"We have dealt with something like this before, with a boy named Scott Summers." One of the three Priests began speaking to Oliver, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "We were successful in driving out the evil that was within him, freeing him of those demon eyes he had. We brought him back to a righteous path, and we can do the same for your slave boy. Just bring him here as soon as you can, and return within a week. He will be purified by then."
"But if he is purified and no longer a witch, than that makes him a normal being! It is illegal to keep regular white men as slaves!" Oliver frowned, looking over at the Priests. "What will happen to the poor boy once he is cleansed of the evil within his body and soul?"
"You can leave him with us, if you wish. We can educate him on the ways of God, and try to bring his soul back to life, or you can perform an act of charity and take care of the young man." A hint of a smile came from under the Priest's hood. "I know you may not enjoy the idea of caring for him, since he was a slave. But it is the Catholic thing to do, to care for your fellow man in need."
"I will not burden you from your tasks of saving the souls of these "witches", father." Trask looked over at the Priests, giving them a gentle smile upon his face. "Since the boy will be cleansed and no longer a "witch", I will take him into my care. Any man who believes in the Church would do what I am doing for him, for it is the right thing to do."
"Mister Trask, you are indeed a kind soul for being so willing to care for the boy. God thanks you for your kindness and righteousness in saving this young man's soul." The Priests were all smiling at Oliver Trask, believing he was making the right choice. The "witches" were often used as slaves, but were always deemed evil by the church. However, they did offers to take those lost souls in and try to "remove" the evil within them, making them human. The boy Trask talked about would be the second boy they saved, and another link in the chain to sainthood. "Please bring him here as soon as possible. We will be ready to help him."
As Oliver turned his back towards the Priests, his smile grew as wide as it ever could. He walked out of the church to his horse and got upon it, quickly galloping back to the Plantation, and get rid of his problem slave boy. Once and for all, Gambit would behave, and the demon inside of him gone.
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Diner was a bit quiet this evening. Remy and Storm were lucky enough to be eating rice, tonight, as well as some gruel one of the slaves had made. It was always better than eating nothing at all, in Remy's eyes. He couldn't help but smile over at his best friend, looking over to see if she had enough to eat, tonight. "You so quiet, Stormy. Sumt'ing de matter, or are yah jus' tired from all de work we did?"
"Stormy" was a nickname Remy had given to her, since he did not like calling her Storm all the time. She honestly did not like the nickname, but allowed him to call her that, and only him. "How many times have I told you not to call me that, Gambit?" A smirk came across her face, seeing she hit a slight nerve by calling Remy his slave name. In private, Storm would call him by his real name, because it seemed to comfort Remy at times. "I suppose I do feel tired, but I can feel a wind of change coming soon, brother. I do not know how to explain it, but I fear something terrible is going to happen."
"You worry too much, chere!" He couldn't help but smile at Storm, she was always concerned about something, and that something was mainly him. "Now yah eattin' too much air... you should be gettin' more food into yer stomach... we gonna be worker harder tomorrow, knowin' Mas'er." He took a spoonful of gruel into his mouth, when the door to their slave house opened, and Trask walked in towards Remy. The spoon was quickly knocked out of his mouth and Trask took a hold of his shoulders, forcing Remy to stand up, while Storm watched in complete shock and horror.
"It is time for the evil and wickedness to be cleansed of your soul, boy!" Trask spat in Remy's face, holding the boy tightly by his long auburn hair, enough to cause pain. He noticed Remy's hands give off a weak, pinkish glow, then stop as he threw him into the wall. "Get up! I'm bringing you to the church, tonight. They'll rid you of your witch powers and the demon in your soul... they'll save you, boy, and I won't have to deal with your back talk any longer! You will be a normal man, and you will thank me for this mercy when you are purified!"
"Let mah go!" Remy struggled weakly, finding that the Master had his arm around his chest, holding one of his arms to his side. He was able to get the other arm free and try to reach for Storm, as he was being dragged out of the slave house and to an awaiting horse. "Stormy! Stormy 'elp mah!" he cried out, only to see Storm look at him, completely helpless as a rope bound his hands to his chest, and Trask forced him upon the horse.
Storm ran out of the slave house towards the Master and Remy, who was on his belly over the side of the horse. Trask quickly mounted the large hoarse and started to gallop off, and all she could do was stare, feeling completely helpless as her slave brother was taken away from her. "Goddess..." she spoke softly to herself, watching the horse disappear into the trees. "Goddess, please protect my brother."
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Remy couldn't struggle the way he was position on the horse. It was moving so fast that if he had fallen off, he would most likely break something. During the entire ride, he watched the Plantation move farther and farther away from his sight, and a large church come into view ahead of him. Within minutes, the horse came to a stop and Trask dismounted it, grabbing Remy by his long auburn hair and dragging him to his feet.
"Come along, Gambit!" Trask shouted, dragging the bound slave inside of the church. He could feel the young man shivering as he pushed him down to the floor, in front of three cloaked priests. "Here is the demon of my Plantation! Please purify his soul and body, and make him human! I promise to keep my word and care for the boy once his soul has been saved."
The priests looked down upon Remy, their faces hidden by hoods they wore. One of them finally rose up and looked towards Trask. "Come back in three days, and we will make sure that the devil inside of him is removed."
"Le Diablo?" Remy asked, his voice almost unheard as he quickly looked at the men around him. The ones in the hoods giving him the creeps. "Dere is non devil inside o' mah! Jus' leave mah alone!"
"Enough of your talking, boy!" Trask yelled at Remy, turning his back on the young man and walking out of the church. "I will do as you say and return within three days for him. In the meantime, I will have a room set up for him to live in. Since he will no longer be a witch,
he can live in the mansion with me, and I promise to take good care of him. For isn't that what God expects of us as humans?"
"Indeed it is, Mister Trask." Spoke one of the Priests, his voice sounding like that of an old man, a bit shaky and worn. "God expects us to care for our fellow man, and since the boy will be returned to a state like you and I, it is expected that someone take care of him like one would care for you."
"Yes, I will take good care of him, father." And with those words and a sinister smile upon Oliver Trask's face, he left Remy behind with the Priests, in order to save the boy's soul. As he rode off on his horse, all Trask could think about was the pain the young man would face, and how it was all going to be worth it in the end.
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Three days have past, and Trask returned to claim his boy. He grinned at the thought that the slave with a big mouth would finally be calm, and human. But because he would no longer be a witch, he would have to care for him. He hated the thought of caring for the boy, but if it raised his status with the church and the other rich snobs he knew, then it was worth it. His carriage finally stopped at the front of the church, and he got out, walking casually to the front doors. When the doors opened, he could see the Priests waiting for him, along with the boy, who was being held up by one of the priests.
"We were successful in driving the devil out of him." One of the Priests said, smiling beneath his cloaked hood. "He put up a good fight, but we were able to rid him of the evil inside of his soul."
"What happened to his eyes?" Trask carefully looked over at Remy, seeing a blindfold stained with blood that covered his eyes, and what looked like tear stains of blood running down his cheeks. "You blinded him!?"
"We had no other choice, Oliver! The devil was in his eyes, and they had to be removed! If we did not do so, the evil inside of him would have gained more power." The Priest could see Trask frown, but nod in agreement to his actions. "We also baptized him and gave him a good name. The boy will be known as David, from now on. A name worthy from the Bible itself."
"I see. I shall bring him to Church each Sunday for mass, so he can be properly educated in the ways of God, and to help keep his soul pure." Trask moved over and grabbed Remy by his arm. He heard the boy cry out slightly and start to shiver, once his hand touched the exposed flesh of his torn shirt. "Come along, David. It's time to go home, now."
Remy was lead out to the carriage and placed inside of it. He could hear the Priests talking with Trask, saying how much of a good man he was for bringing him to them. His entire body was hurting so badly. Remy was hungry and thirsty, for the Priests had refused him any food, as a way of fasting him to purity. All he could see was complete darkness, and soon, he felt a hand upon his shoulder, making her whimper and flinch, as the carriage began to move, and they were leaving the church. He never wanted to return to that place ever again... but from what Trask said, he would be forced back every Sunday. The thought of that made him whimper more, and for Trask to say something to him.
"I do not want to hear you whimper any more, David!" Trask's eyes narrowed down at Remy, who was trying to move away from him, but too weak to do so. "You should be thanking those men, and myself for showing you such mercy! If it wasn't for my kindness, you'd be dead by now, boy! Do you hear me, dead!"
"Mah name... it ain' David... It's Remy..." He lowered his head, as if to look upon his shoes. His head hurt so badly from the way his eyes had been removed. He had been held down and blinded with a red hot fire poker, all while he was awake. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't pass out, and they went one eye at a time. The last thing he ever say was the fire in the fire place, and the Priest right above him. Shivering, his hands went to his head and he tried to surpass his crying. "Ah wished ah was dead! Dey should 'ave killed mah! Why didn' dey kill mah!?"
"Because your soul would have gone to hell, boy! And your name is now David, and you will get used to that, as you had gotten used to your slave name!" Trask watched the boy hold his head in his hands. He could see him wanting to cry and fighting it back with all his might. "You are obviously talking nonsense, David. perhaps you are tired from your whole ordeal? Once we return home, you will go straight to bed and stay there until you are well, and until you recognize that I saved you!"
All Remy could do was nod in agreement. He lost his given name, once more, but now he had also lost his sight. For all he knew, Trask could lock him in the barn and he would never be able to tell if he was in the slave house with Storm, or not. Images of Storm entered his mind, his dear friend.... his only friend. She probably thought that he had been sold or worse, dead. Remy's voice was shaking as he talked to Trask, a man whom he was furious with, yet feared more. "S- storm... Can Storm.... take care o' mah?"
"Certainly not!" Trask gave the blind boy before him a stern look. He knew the two were close as slaves, but for one to control the weather like she did, how would he know if she could turn the boy back into a witch? "She cannot take care of you, and you can never be with that witch again... or any witch for that matter! A normal slave will care for your needs for you, David. So just forget your life as a slave and Storm! Today, you start anew."
Remy turned his head from Trask and finally broke down, crying. He needed Storm... she was his only friend, the only one that had ever called him family or ever loved him. She would share her bed with him and hug him at night, protecting him against the nightmares he had. But now, he was told she was only a memory. Remy knew he could no longer shed tears, but if he could, they would have soaked his tanned skin and shirt by now. He could feel Trask grab his arm forcefully, making him stop crying, but whimpering in pain from the sudden feeling.
"Enough crying!" Trask yelled at Remy, letting go of his arm, probably adding a few more bruises to it. "You can cry all you want in your room, but not around me nor in public! When you are invited to dinner, you shall never speak, and when I have company, you shall remain in your room until I say so! You should be thankful I even bother to take care of you, David! I could have just sold you to a Brothel and made money from you! Instead I am allowing you into my home and having you treated better than anyone has ever treated you in your whole damned life! You keep that in mind! Continue to give me trouble or break any of those rules I have given you, and I will sell you to a Brothel, and allow men to have you ever night, like it or not!"
For the rest of the ride back to the Plantation, Remy remained silent. His body would shiver from time to time, mainly from the pain of his wounds, and the fact he was trying so hard not to cry. Once back at the Plantation, Remy was easily taken out of the carriage, his clothing torn and in disarray as Trask forced him to sit on the muddy ground below. Trask then stood outside the main house in front of all the slaves, who could see the blood stains on Remy's shirt, and the cloth around his eyes. Storm had taken notice of the events and lowered her head, her heart aching at the sight of her brother, as Master looked about the main house.
"You there!" Trask yelled up to the young slave girl on the steps of his house, " Go fetch Bishop. I want him to take... " He glanced down at the broken boy sitting outside the carriage, " DAVID, up to the room I prepared. Tell him to come find me when he's done!"
"Yes sir, Mastah Sir." The young girl dropped the vegetables she was peeling and ran to find the man in question. She'd seen what Master had done to slaves who didn't move fast enough for his liking.
Trask looked down at Remy, seeing the young man turn his head, as if trying to figure out where he was. He finally spoke to the boy, calling him by the new name the Church had given him. "David, Bishop will see that you don't starve or soil yourself. He and Mattie will be taking care of you, and I will visit you in your bedroom, once you have been settled in."
Remy tried to suppress the shiver that wanted to pass through his body. Bishop was a huge man, the biggest man he ever laid eyes on in his entire life. He'd been here forever as far as Remy could tell and he was always so angry and full of hate. He had no clue what the master had done to him, but the man hated Trask. Now Remy had to depend on the man to look after him? And what about Storm? Would Master take her to the evil church to be "cured" too? No, he needed her to keep the weather nice so he would continue to have the best crops around. He let out a soft sigh, at least his friend would be safe from the tortures of the Priests. The sudden feeling of a large hand on his arm made him cry out in fear, and then he heard the familiar voice of Bishop, as the huge man tugged his arm, and forced him to stand up.
"Come on BOY.I been tol' t' see afta y'. " Bishop's voice was deep and low, plus his grip was very painful. " I don' LIKE you...BOY. Masta' shoulda let the Devil have y'." He pulled the injured boy to his feet, and gave him a shove." Better be able t' walk boy. I ain't gonna carry y' lika a damn Prince."
Remy's legs were wobbling as he started walking straight, or what he thought was straight. He tried to stay on his feet, but he was so weak and thirsty. He soon collapse by the stairs, which he knew he could not climb, and Bishop pushed him with his large foot, making the pain in his broken body worse.
"I guess y' need this Black Man t' carry y' sorry ass up to yer room." Bishop was getting angry. It was hard enough that Master Trask had been so cruel to him for years, but to take care of some poor white boy was enough to set him into a fury. "Come on 'fore th' Masta see y' on the ground." He lifted the boy up into the air and over his shoulder like a sack of cotton. Bishop then trudged up the steps and inside the main house. He then carried the boy up another set of stairs to the second floor of the mansion, and into a small, dark bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Remy soon found himself being carried up the stairs and then another pair of stairs. He could tell all of this by the sounds of the footsteps the large man took. He then heard a door creak open, and figured this was to be his room that they were entering. A sudden gasp of air left his lungs as he was dropped onto the bed, rather harshly, and then Bishop began speaking to him once more.
"You can dress your damn self, white boy!" Bishop frowned, watching the young man slowly sit up in his bed. His whole body was shaking so badly, yet had no sympathy for him. The boy may have been a slave, once, but now he was like Trask. A white man who had more status than him. At least this was a white man he could actually have power over. After all, he was blind. A smirk formed over Bishop's lips, watching Remy struggle with the buttons on his shirt, finally getting each one open, and shrugging off the torn, tattered piece of clothing. His anger soon turned to pity, seeing the scars and burns all about Remy's chest and back. The worst looking one was a large cross branded into his back, covering almost all of his spine. "Hurry up now, ah don' got time to baby-sit you!"
Remy's hands searched the bed, finding a night shirt upon it. He felt around the nightshirt, finding the opening at the end and putting it over his head, despite the pain that it caused to move his arms. His head poked through the head area, and his hands into the sleeves of the outfit. He easily removed his pants from under the long nightshirt without having to expose his body to Bishop at all. He then just sat on the bed, hearing the man pick up his old clothing with a growl and some cursing, complaining of the smell it had upon it. He could hear Bishop leaving the bedroom, and someone walking inside.
"You look more decent now, David." Trask said, looking over at towards the bed at Remy. He slowly took a seat next to the boy, intimidating Remy further. "This room is not much, but it's yours, now. You will probably live the rest of your life in here. I will permit you to come to some social gatherings with me, but you are always to remain silent. You will go to Church on Sundays with me, as well. I had just warned Storm to stay away from you, or else she will be punished even more badly than you have been. Now you don't want that, do you, David?"
"Non sir... non... Ah don' want dat... please don' hurt Stormy!" Remy grabbed onto Trask's arm, begging him not to hurt Storm. If anything ever happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself, ever. "Ah understand... ah... ah won' see Stormy non more... " Those words were the hardest thing he ever had to say, other than when Trask had whipped him into saying he was his master, and that his name was Gambit.
"Good boy." Trask couldn't help but smirk and ruffle his hand into Remy's long auburn locks, which were now loose. The ribbon that had been holding his hair back was nearly undone, and hanging off the end of his hair. "Now then, I'll leave you to your room. Mattie will come in shortly to clean you up." Trask got off of the boy's bed and walked out of the room, shutting it behind him, and leaving Remy by himself, once more.
Once Remy heard the door shut behind Trask, he crawled out of bed and onto the floor. He used his ears to crawl towards the window, and just sit there, listening to the slaves in the field singing. He swore he could hear Storm's voice in the choir of slaves and that gave him some comfort, as he cried for the longest of times. "Stormy... ah wan' mah Stormy..." He whispered, hearing her sing, and the sounds of his own crying.
END CHAPTER 2