A Promise Made

It was a Sunday afternoon in early spring and New York was just recovering from a large blizzard. The sun was shining brightly, giving the false impression of warmth to the brisk day and creating an odd mixture of ice and slush that polluted the ground under his tires. Remy didn't mind though. He was a man on a mission.

After pulling strings for weeks he was finally close to his goal. He arrived in the city a few hours before the rendezvous time and decided to get a bit to eat before he made his way over to the club. It didn't exactly have the best reputation and Gambit figured it was better to go into a fight on a full stomach than an empty one.

Remy frowned as he scanned the restaurants he passed. Ah, New York. Three McDonalds on every street, an' never a place to eat. He was so caught up in watching the stores that he almost hit a pedestrian with his bike and had someone not yelled at him from the sidewalk he probably would have. He looked up just in time to see her and skidded to a halt in the slush. From beneath the darkened visor of his helmet, he gave her the once over to make sure she was all right.

She was a pretty girl of about Jubilee's age. She looked a little wrecked and very lost. She seemed worried to Gambit and screamed she was in danger with a body language more powerful than words. It bothered him that she hadn't even slowed in her progress to yell at him or tell him off. When she reached the yellow lines sepperating one progression of traffic from the next she did finally stop, looking up as if startled by something. Quickly, like someone who has just remembered they left the oven on, she spun and looked back in the direction she had come.

Remy followed her gaze. His eyes came to rest on a man in an alley where the girl had just come from. He was shrouded by shadow and had Remy not been looking for him he probably wouldn't have seen him.

He wore covering clothes: A long black duster, a big black hood and a pair of dull ray bans. Under his jacket Remy thought he could make out a long slender bulk; most likely a weapon of some sort. Remy was unsure exactly what kind of weapon it was, but the size and the manor by which the man's hand hovered near the top indicated that it was probably some kind of knife or sword.

As Remy stared at him the world around him seemed to be forgotten. While there was a sort of beauty about him he was most definitely not a beautiful person. A shiver crawled up Remy's spine as he regognised the distinct aura of a man born to kill.

He held a steely gaze on his face and as he focused on the eyes of the girl, a sardonic grin spread across his lips. Then slowly, in an eerie fluidic motion, the man's head turned as a calculated sweep to Gambit.

His expression didn't change and were Gambit a man to be intimidated easily he would be shaking in his boots. For a moment Remy felt a shiver creep up his spine, as though he might have known the man but he couldn't remember exactly where from.

A horn blew from behind causing him to jump and forget his reverie momentarily. He turned back to look at the car behind him and to deal the driver a customary dirty glare. He knew full well the gesture was redundant, as the man in the car couldn't see his expression through the helmet Storm had finally convinced him to wear, but he couldn't part from tradition.

Then, ignoring the offending driver, he returned his attention to the shadows. To his dismay however, the man was gone. Turning his head to look for the girl he was farther annoyed to realize that she too was missing.

The car behind him made a second honk of it's horn. "All right!" Remy replied, starting back on his way, but not being able to forget the mysterious duo.

It took him some time, but Remy finally decided on a place to eat. He pulled up at a Dunkin Donuts wishing it was a Tim Hortons but settling for second rate. An hour later he was still sitting in the small coffee shop, sipping the same cappuccino and staring blankly out the window.

He had all but missed the meeting it had taken him months to set up, but he didn't even seem to notice. He was concentrating on the girl and getting frustrated because he couldn't bring up an image of her in his mind. He was pretty sure that she had had brown hair but was unconfident as to how long it was, or what colour her eyes were, or what colour and style of clothes she had been wearing, or much of anything for that matter. She just looked so de-shelved, so scared and alone.

He remembered being in her predicament on numerous occasions growing up. He wondered if he had stuck out in anyone's memory the way she had to him. He frowned and wondered if anyone had stopped to care what happened to him. He shook that off with an regretful grin. He knew that if someone had it would have made some sort of difference. At least he hoped it would have.

Thinking of what he had endured he became more determined to find her. His only problem was that he didn't have the slightest clue where to start. New York was a big place and people like her got lost in the shuffle every day.

This is why, when he saw her walk by across the street and turn into a dark alley, he almost spit his mouthful of cappuccino across the table. He somehow managed to keep it down with only a minimal of choking, as he reached into his pocket for cash. He handed a crumpled bill to the waitress, muttering "Keep the change," and running out the door.

"Thank you! Have a nice day!" She yelled after him. Had he not been so distracted he might have noticed the wide-eyed expression on her face, and realized that he had handed her a fifty not a five but he probably still wouldn't have cared.

Remy ran out into the traffic, narrowly missing being hit by a truck, and went after the girl into the alley. She was huddled next to a Dumpster, crying and shivering and looking very afraid. She jumped as he entered the alley, big blue eyes glistening with tears. She looked like she would be a runner.

"Don' be afraid," he cooed to her, "I ain' goin' t' hurt you." Her face was coated in brown dirt that partailly covered the bruises that Remy hadn't noticed before. She had two sets of lighter tracks that ran down her face from where the tears had flown, and her shoulder length, red hair was covered in brown dirt as well.

She was terror filled and didn't appear to believe his words, but she wasn't running and that was all that was important to him at that moment. "Name's Remy." He smiled reassuringly and took a step forward but she jumped back. Frowning and scolding himself for not expecting that reaction, he took a seat on the ground to make himself appear less threatening. "Y' got a name?"

She bit her lip.

"Look, I'm not here t' hurt you. I jus' saw y' earlier, and t'ought you looked like y' might need some help."

She appeared almost confused by this, but then her look went to disbelieving and mistrusting. "Why?" She spat at him. "Why should you care when no one else does? No wait, let me guess I know how you feel, I was once like you, or how about I'm just looking out for your best interests. Here, I though you might be hungry. Well I've heard it all before buddy. You give me a little food and then expect a little something in return." She folded her arms.

Remy frowned at her mocking tone. Somehow the response of Well, actually... When I was a kid... Just didn't seem right, so he changed the subject. "Who was de guy followin' you? De guy in de alley?"

She looked surprised and shivered as she stared at him. She appeared to be trying to figure out what to make of him. She looked down and then up to meet his eyes again and she bit her lip. She took a breath as if to say something meaningful, but then her face set itself, "What are you, my social worker?"

He sighed. He was frustrated, but could understand. He probably would have reacted the same way when he was in her situation. Dis isn' TV, trust takes more den two sentences. He reminded himself. "Look--"

"No, You look! I--" She cut herself off with a quick and deep intake of breath and stared wide-eyed at the entrance to the alley.

"There you are..." The cold and raspy words came from behind him but before he even turned his head, Remy knew exactly whose face he would see. "I been lookin' for you girl. Now you just come quietly, and I make it as quick as possible."

As the man spoke his threats to the girl Remy scrambled to get to his feet. It was his intention to keep himself between the man and the girl but he wasn't completely successful. Before Remy could get fully upright this man was at his back and had a hold of him by the hair. "You stay out of this, boy," he stated, pulling Remy's head back with one hand and holding a double- edged sword to his throat. "This is none of your business."

If his calm, whispered voice wasn't intimidating enough, the position he was holding Remy in should have done the trick. However, the obsurdatity of his situation struck Remy and he immediately assessed this fellow as being more than just a regular street thug; after all, who slinks in shadows chasing homeless girls with double edged swords? serial killers and super villians, that's who. He replied glibly, "Well, I'm makin' it my business!" while jabbing his elbow back with precision and force into the man's ribs. Twisting forward and turning he stated, "Can' let dis jus' go..." To Remy's confusion the guy let out a healthy guffaw, he seemed almost pleased with what had just happened. "You've got guts, child!" Then his demeanor turned calious and cold. "I shall enjoy licking them from my blade," he stated as he moved in for the kill.

Remy mentally kicked himself for leaving his staff with his ride. For that matter, he kicked himself for leaving the helmet. This guy was fast and that sword was sharp. If all else failed he still had his powers to fall back on, but better not to play all of his cards at once, so to speak. As the two entered into combat, Remy did his best to study his opponent's maneuvers.

His style was familiar and again Remy had the sensation that they had met before. His motion was quick and deadly, but soft and quiet. That added to his clothes brought Remy to the assumption that he was a member of one of the New York guilds. Possibly a thief, but more likely an assassin.

The probable-assassin swiped horizontally with his weapon and barely missed Gambit's face. Bringing the blade backwards, he nicked Remy's midsection just above his belly button and then curved the path upwards to catch his ribs and the side of his right peck. Realising that the swordsman was well trained, Remy fell forward and to the side instead of the expected backwards fall one would normally take from such a hit. His forsight saved him his right arm, as the blade came down on the area between his throat and his shoulder.

Remy bit the side of his cheeks, trying to stop himself from yelling out in pain. He stared up at his attacker, realizing that he wouldn't be able to defeat him without resorting to the use of his powers.

His attacker was smiling at him in an almost friendly mannor. "My name is Ezreal," he stated moving towards him. "Take solace in knowing that you fought well, though not as well as I expected. Either way there really was no way you could have won." He let out a small huffed and yet almost giddy laugh and joked mostly to himself, "I am sure this battle would secure you a place in Stovokor."

He brought up his blade to make the final blow, but was distracted by the sound of falling garbage cans, somewhere in the distance. "Shit." The girl was fleeing, and Ezreal had no intentions of having to track her down again. It would be even harder in the falling darkness. His smile turned to a frown as he turned back to Remy to apparently finish it quickly so he could capture his prey.

Remy, however, had other ideas. He reached for a nearby piece of trash, charged it and threw it in Ezreal's face. "Today is not a good day to die," Remy uttered, not missing the insane, bizarre and obscure Star Trek reference. He then turned to chase after the girl before Ezreal could recover.

Index Page Part Two