xp_logs | Remy and Pete, last Monday

Backdated, because I'm a complete muppet and forgot to post it, despite it sitting there complete in the folder. It's Remy's turn to track Pete down, and the conversation goes even worse than it did with Nate.

Wisdom hadn't shaved in several days, and probably hadn't changed his clothes in that long, either. His back was to the door, but it was hard to miss the huge mirror over the bar in front of him. He signalled for the bartender's attention just after the door opened, and gestured for two more glasses of the bourbon he was drinking.

"How's everyone, then?"

"Worried. Paranoid." Remy walked up to the bar and leaned on it. His manner was relaxed and at ease, but both men knew that it was a lie. This was the preliminary; where they feel out exactly where both of them stood. "Pissed off. Dey going to try to stop you, homme."

"But you ain't." Pete slid the second glass down to Remy, still watching him in the mirror.

"So what're you doing here, then?"

"Figured dat we should talk. I know dat's what you wanted, or you would have hidden your tracks a little better." Remy picked up the glass and looked into the depths of it, still as icily calm as Wisdom. Anyone other than a professional would only see a quiet drink, and miss the chance of expolsive coiled tightly under it.

"Wanted?" Pete shrugged. "Figured it was safer if I left everyone a place to find me, rather than have some bastard turn up where I don't want them."

He lit a cigarette.

"So talk."

"I figured dat was your cue." Remy took a long sip from the glass. "You got a reason for dis ratfuck stupid plan of yours, or de consequences of it not cross your mind? You kill Alphonso, and de entire Hellfire Club declares war on de X-Men."

"Thought about that. Decided I cared less about a houseful of annoying children, or some fucking pipedream of a better world than I did about the possibility that someone would take it into their heads that what's left of my family is fair game for any cunt with a grudge."

He took a sip of his own drink.

"Yeah, I want some fucking revenge. But mostly, I want everyone to know what's going to happen if they even look the wrong way at Romany or Amanda. I can't chance letting any of the bastards that hate me think I've gone soft."

He shrugged.

"Besides, I'm fucking sure that Charlie's got some terribly bloody noble and clever plan to stop it all kicking off."

"Bullshit. I don't know de fuck you convinced yourself of, but de club is just looking for an excuse to go after dat mansion. Dey not going t' come through de windows like a bunch of morons either."

Remy fought back his rising frustration.

"Dammit, Wisdom, you giving dem de excuse to go after whatever dey get dere hands on. Dat includes Amanda."

Pete slammed his glass down.

"They already went after the fucking mansion. Or don't the Wisdom family count as part of it? If he'd taken a shot at the Guthrie farm, the fetish mob would have made a crater of them by now."

He paused, and continued in a quiet tone, but no less intense.

"My Dad's dead, because of that fucking house. Because de la Rocha thought I'd gone soft, because he couldn't touch me or Amanda while we were there, so he went for my Dad. He already fucking declared war. All that's left is making sure that every other bastard that's watching understands what happens when you do that."

He took a drag on his cigarette.

"I've played nice for the last two years. I've pretended to be a guidance counsellor, and I've pretended that I know how to do something besides kill and frighten people, and all I've got for it is one fewer family member. So I'm going back to doing things the way I know best. It can't work out any worse."

"Do you honestly think dat you going to scare dem, homme? Dey got de money to hire ten of us tomorrow. Fuck, you even know de names. And you going to give dem de excuse because you pissed off."

Gambit drained his glass, watching Pete through the mirror. "If you don't care about taking a bullet in de back of de head, dats your business, but Shaw not going to stop wit' you."

The bartender had moved forward, and Remy took the bottle and gestured for him to leave.

"De next time Manny and Amanda go down to de club, some fuck like either of us gon rape dem before he put one behind de ear. Or de Professor lock down de place so tight dat dey might as well be dead, trapped in dat place. Dat what you want, homme?"

"Not my problem any more. Or did you miss the bit where I knocked out Summers and had it away on my toes?"

Pete took another sip of his drink.

"Besides, you ain't here to stop me. You wouldn't have walked in here if you were seriously thinking of stopping me. You'd have droppped me before I even knew you were in town. You can't have been stupid enough to think you'd talk me out of it, and I don't see you offering to give me a hand. So why are you here?"

"Right now, your life is worth more to me den De La Rocha's. Because we both know dat if I wanted to stop you, only of one us walks out. But I wasn't hoping dat you hadn't completely flushed you fucking brain down de toilet." Remy was starting to get mad. He had all of his experiences as Gambit, but the professionalism was still a little spotty at time.

"But dis excuse? You got a shit deal so you not going to give a shit? Merde. You know dat we can quietly shop Alphonse if we take de time to do it. In a way dat don't make it obvious dat it tied to us. Keep de shadow game alive. It's like you want to start a fucking war, you asshole."

Pete took another drag on his cigarette, then spoke in a flat, dead tone.

"There is exactly one thing left I give a shit about: my family. I want to keep what's left of my family alive, and I don't believe anything short of putting de la Rocha in the ground myself will do the job. I haven't started a fucking war, but you do not get to fuck with my family and get away with it. That simple. I don't care who it is, or what's at stake, you don't get to do it. Everything else comes second."

He poured himself another drink.

"Guess dats what I used to sound like den. Glad to know dat next time I see Miles and Sarah, Remy don't have to feel guilty. Hey, I had a shitty life, so slaughtering you family? Dat don't matter." Remy finally turned to look at the older man directly, eye to eye. "Dat your last lesson den, Wisdom? When it personal, it don't matter? Tell me dat de things we did were justified 'cause our shit lives were hell. Dats what you want to teach 'manda?"

Remy was angry, and he could here the edges of desperation in his own words. He hadn't thought he could talk Wisdom out of killing de la Rocha. In fact, LeBeau was with Wisdom on the fact that Alphonso had gone too far. But he had hoped he could get Wisdom thinking like a professional again; remove de la Rocha in a quiet manner that didn't give Shaw the excuse to position as the X-Men verses the Hellfire Club. But Pete couldn't give a damn, and it felt uncomfortably like a personal betrayal.

"Lesson? I've been telling everyone for years now: I ain't anyone's fucking role model, and I don't give a fuck whether you think I'm justified or not." Pete met LeBeau's gaze for a second, then looked away and sighed.

"I ain't like you or Nate - I didn't have some big fucking personality changing crisis that put me old life behind me. When I quit the game, it's because I was sick of playing for someone else's agenda, nothing else. I'm exactly the bastard I've always been. And the part of reason my Dad's dead is that I let everyone forget it."

He knocked his drink back in one go.

"Dat's not good enough, Pete. You don't get to mean things to people and act like dat don't matter." Remy turned and with sudden violence hurled his glass into the wall. Wisdom came to his feet as the glass exploded, and a moment of coiled violence existed between the two.

"So dats fine. You don't want to be a role model, dat's your choice. But you understand de X-Men are now protecting Alphonso. You figured out how to deal wit' dat?"

"I've just had a really good lesson in what happens when I mean something to people." Pete scowled and sat back down.

"As for the X-men, the only thing slowing me up is working out how to get through them without killing any of the stupid bastards."

"So dats it den." Remy almost slumped, realizing that nothing he could say would sway Wisdom. The wash of depression hit him, followed immediately by new and bright anger. If this was the way that it had to be, then this was the way.

"De X-Men will try to stop you. Whether you get through or not, dey going to try. Remy been poisoning de well as much as I can, letting de world at large know dat you gone rogue. But when you kill him, chances are dat you just put de mansion in de middle of a war."

Pete shrugged. "I figure Daddy Shaw's not going to have much of a leg to stand on. You're all doing your best to protect a businessman from a dangerous rogue after all. I mean, it's not like I'm getting any fucking help keeping me and mine safe from a murderous fuck, is it? Your precious mansion'll be safe enough."

Remy's look was cold. He had already lost his appeal to Wisdom, and any desire he had to help him was wiped out by Pete's utterly casual disregard of the lives of anyone else, even those Wisdom professed to care for.

"You already ignored my offer. Remy just as happy to see de la Rocha in de ground as you, but you want to send a message dat you know dey not going to give a shit about." He shook his head, dropping some money on the bar for the bottle and getting ready to leave. "You need it to go dis way, dat your choice. Remy do his best to make sure dat de mansion not caught in your self-destruction. Maybe you don't give a shit any more, but it not de fault of dose kids dat your pare was killed. You got no right t' make dem pay for it wit' dere blood."

"You know old son, you've been sitting here telling me that my plans won't work, and that if Shaw does anything, it'll all be my fault for the last twenty minutes, and I've been letting you, because, y'know, you're an OK guy, and I can understand that you're a bit pissed off with me. But I'm bored now, and two things occur to me. Firstly: I may not have quite the repuation that you do, but I've been at this a while, and I know damn well what the thought that maybe I am still playing the game the old fashioned way will do to some people. Maybe not Shaw, but if he was all I was fucking worried about, I might be able to find another way to get this done. But any fucking way: I know what I'm doing, and I think it'll keep the people I give a fuck about safe, and just because you don't fucking like it, doesn't make you magically right somehow. And secondly: I'm not in the business of being anyone else's fucking scapegoat."

Wisdom's voice rose slightly as he continued. "If Shaw decides he wants to kill everyone at Xavier's, then that's because he's a cunt, not because I'm standing there making him do a damn thing. Either fucking way, I'll get to Shaw when I'm done with de la Rocha, but I'm sick to death of sitting on my hands with these cunts, just because we've all got to play nice and act like scared little fucking kids, instead of getting the fucking job done."

He looked over at Remy.

"Now, unless you've got anything useful to add, just fuck off. You've said your party piece. I ain't playing any more."

"You not de scapegoat, Wisdom. You just de fucking pawn." Remy shook his head. "De X-Men are going to try and stop you. Neither dey nor de Professor is listening to me 'bout it. Dat includes de PSIons and some of de newer members. Dat Forge is working on boosters for detection systems, and on some of de psionic trackers. You'd better factor dat into your plans if you going to get in and out clean."

Wisdom actually looked slightly surprised at the free intelligence.

"And I hope dat its a good plan, homme. I really do. Because if any of dem don't come back, or your plan goes wrong and you touch off a war, Remy going to come find you again." Remy leaned in, almost touching Wisdom's face with his own. "Dat happen, and we going to find out who gets to walk out alone." LeBeau turned and left Wisdom and the bar behind, without a backwards glance.