This Character Creation Contest was based on creating an enemy for Gambit.
The voting ends one week from now. April 17 Midnight.
Here are the entries:
Gambit strolled through Alabama , How the hell did he get asked to visit this place? He did not even know who he was going to meet. All he knew was Wolverine had some connections and he had some information that they needed.
He caught his foot on a rock as he walked through the dusty street, picking it up he charged it and threw it away - It burst into flames.
A local looked at him with an intrigued face , His mouth opened "Who da hell are you boy?" He said with a Southern accent.
Gambit looked at him. Strolled up-to the fine Gentlemen and just looked into his eyes with a grin. The Alabamian lifted up a shotgun and pointed it in Gambits face.
"Don't be startin trouble now boy" He said angrily
Gambit laughed , He put his finger in the barrel of the gun - The gun suddenly started to glow red, The Alabamian dropped the gun in shock , His eyes wide open in disbelief. "You're a mutant!" He took out a knife from his pocket and attempted to gut Gambit. Gambit grabbed the mans wrist, charged his Watch and the mans wrist exploded into a splatter of blood. Gambit laughed and walked off humming the French National Anthem.
Handuke peered through the blinds of his house with his two fingers before backing away. He stumbled backwards as his hands lay onto his desk, spinning around he picked up a gun, Sniffed its barrel before loading it with some bullets. it was an old Magnum. A little rusty round the edges but still lethal. As he put the bullets in the gun they shone red.
He coughed, walked towards the door of his house before taking hold of the Golden door-Knob and walking outside. The sun beat on his face as he stared at Gambit.
He raised the gun and aimed directly at Gambits knee. He wanted to make this slow and painful. His finger slowly pressed on the trigger, The bullet sliced through the air as a red aurora shrouded the bullet. It connected with Gambits Kneecap. Gambit let out a horrific scream as the bullet tore off his kneecap, He looked at the attacker before suddenly being smashed violently again and again in the face by Handuke.
"YOU DIRTY SUNOVA!"Handuke carried on smashing Gambit round the head, His gun started to glow redder and redder as he grew more and more angry. Gambit slouched onto the floor nearly unconscious. The man aimed the gun at Gambit. He fired at his forehead but the gun exploded. The man had gotten too angry and instead of charging the lethal bullets he charged the whole gun. His hands were now burnt but he jumped onto of Gambit trying to claw his eyes out.
Gambit went into survival mode. He instinctively placed his hands on the floor and charged the whole area causing a giant explosion. It sent Handuke flying backwards onto the floor. Both men now had scorched faces , Gambit was bleeding out and nearly unconscious. The man got to his knees once again. He saw Gambit slowly fade into nothingness as he lost consciousnesses.
The man Coughed blood and spat red on gambit "You have it in for yourself now boy"....He walked towards Gambit as he withdrew a knife from his pocket.
Japan, several years ago
I had been kneeling for hours upon the grains of rice, they were burrowing their way into my kneecaps but still I remained silent. I was here to learn their methods, their ways, if I was going to serve the New Orleans Assassin’s Guild effectively. This is why I kneel on the cold stone floor of the ancient Japanese castle, surrounded by seemingly hundreds of red clad men wielding swords.
Takashi, the daimyo of the Hand in Japan, watches me struggle. His eyes and face give off no expression other than disgust. But he and my great uncle Marius, the head of the Guild, have worked out an exchange program; I am here in Japan to learn whilst they have sent one of theirs to learn our ways. So far the ways of the Hand have been simply beat me until I fall over, wake me up and start the beating again. Today has been slightly different just hours of slow, painful torture.
“You should simple go home round eye!” sneered Genkotsu as he tapped a tonfa in his hand “You waste our and your masters time”
I go to speak, but think better of it. I simply grit my teeth and block out the pain. He slaps the tonfa across my skull knocking me to the floor.
“I spoke to you white dog! Go home!”
I look up as blood trickles through my hair and into my eyes. I so wish to kill this ugly man but I am here for the Guild and I will not let them down. I stand, bow in respect to him and resume my position upon the rice. He looks up to Takashi who nods and I am hit again. I hate Japan!
The man with the white skull mask, flowing cape stands looking me up and down “I don’t think you’re cut out for this” he says “Because if you’re what passes for an assassin these days, no wonder New Orleans is such a dump!”
“With respect monsieur, you don’t know what I can do?”
“You’ve got some martial arts training, predominantly in savate and jujitsu. I can see you learn that stupid Hand technique of keeping a hand close to your belt” he chuckles tapping his temple “Read you like a book”
“So you will not train me then?”
“They paid, I’ll train. I just think you’re a waste of my time and their money”
I am going to wipe that smirk off his skull face “When you’re ready monsieur Taskmaster”
“I think I’ll school you using D-Man’s fighting style because you’re not worth me tapping into anything good”
“You have been away for some time Davin Leroux” said Bella Donna as she rose from the throne where Marius use to sit “Much has changed cousin”
I rise from my bow and look at the stunning woman “My time has been well spent in honour of the Assassin’s Guild as per your father’s wishes”
She slightly shudders at the mention of her father “So are you ready to serve me?”
“Mademoiselle, I live to serve”
“Excellent. You will avenge my brother and my father’s honour by striking a blow against the Thieves Guild. You will kill Jean-Luc Lebeau!”
“It shall be done!” I turn to leave when she catches my arm.
“No, not now. Striking now in the aftermath is petty and obvious. You shall bide your time, improve your skills and then when they least expect it”
“Back again?” scoffed Taskmaster “They must be pretty well off to keep sending you back to me”
“I have learnt much since we last trained monsieur Taskmaster” I retort
“Hmmmm” he looks me over “Have you been working out?”
I smile as I adopt a stance. He rubs his chin and strides towards me “I think a dose of Shang-Chi will prove whether you’ve learnt anything!”
I walk the streets towards home, sore but better for it when I catch a familiar shadow upon the rooftops. Remy LeBeau, the devil child! Why is he skulking around our territory? I scale the building to see the thief watching our home as he smoked.
He flicks the cigarette down to the street as he casually turns to me “Oui”
“Why are you here thief?”
“Dis is still a free country n'est-ce pas?”
“But not a free city you son of a bete!”
“Bes you not be talking about moi pere, less I knock your derriere back into the gutter where you assassins belong”
I draw my sickles from my belt “You are the cause of half the merde here in New Orleans LeBeau! I will send your head to your father as a warning of things coming his way”
He pulls a bo staff from his trench coat and spins it “What did you say?”
“I’m going to kill you and then your father!”
LeBeau throws me at the feet of Bella Donna, trussed up like a turkey.
“Is what he said true chere?”
“What are you talking about Remy?”
“You sending an assassin after my father!”
Bella Donna scowls at me before returning to her former husband “If so, he was acting of his own accord. I, only want peace”
Gambit chuckles and lights up “So den you know what to do?”
I look up at my cousin. She nods and clicks her fingers; two of my Guild lift me to my feet. She rips the tape from my mouth “Davin Leroux. You have acted on your own authority without consulting me or any of the other of the Assassin’s council. You...”
“Don’t you dare!”
She slaps me “Don’t you dare interrupt me! Cousin or not! By the rules of the tithe and the pacts made between the Thieves and Assassin’s Guilds you are banished from New Orleans!”
“You traitorous bitch!” I spit kicking away the guards “You set the…”
Gambit cracks me in the throat with a deck of charged cards that nearly takes my head off. I try not to choke on the smoke.
“Leave New Orleans Davin Leroux, or you will die!” warns Bella Donna. Gambit chuckles like the smug thief he is. I stand holding my neck.
“You will pay dearly for this deceit cousin!” I whisper “And you Remy LeBeau, I will have your head!”
“Tell your story walking mon ami!” he laughs as more Guild members arrive to escort me off.
“You really are quite persistent?” said Taskmaster cracking his knuckles.
“I am not here to fight” I snap “I am here for information”
“Why not both?” he replied as he flipped onto his hands like a monkey “I’m dying to try out these Spider-Man moves”
“I want super powers!”
Taskmaster smiled and shook his head “I know a guy, but my suggestion is don’t”
“I came for information not a lecture!” I throw a punch and we dance again.
“Wh-what has happened to me?” I slump against the restraints, every muscle aching, green sweat leaking from my pores.
“Exactly what you paid for Mr Leroux!” replied Dr Malus as he exchanged notes with the Power Broker “Enhanced reflexes, bone density and muscle mass increase for limited durability but your skin now has the texture of sandpaper, your…”
“So it worked!” I coughed
I look at Taskmaster “What?”
“En. Oh” he replies “You don’t have…”
I throw a bag of burnt, bloody and bullet ridden Euro’s at his feet “Six million, should be eight but accidents happen. Now stop complaining and TRAIN ME!”
Taskmaster drew his sword.
It has been a year since my humiliation by the thief. I have seen the Power Broker and paid another visit to Taskmaster. I have tracked LeBeau to his home here, inside a school of other monster children. I will kill them all, one by one, leaving their corpses as a warning to him. Then he will return to New Orleans where I will kill his father and his ex-wife before his eyes before killing him!
He will rue the day he crossed Davin Leroux, the Thresher!
The last rays of the Sun lit a small café in the downtown area. On a fenced patio with a steel table, the mutant Remy Lebeau, sometimes known as Gambit was in the middle of a conversation with an amused woman, tilting her head towards him.
“...The office clerk went, “What big bush? Is it your former president? For a guy who’s working au France, I would give him an F for French.”
His female companion covered her mouth, and put it down.
“Here in Montreal, we have irrational laws that outlaw English and other foreign languages to the point that you can’t have pasta on an Italian restaurant. Anyways, I’ve have still much to tell you about the dangerous groups from your country that has roots to here. Can I invite you to dinner to discuss all this?”
Remy nervously combed his hair with his hands, “As genereux tu offer is, Cynthia; but I’m afraid je ne vais pas.” He held his strong hand out at Cynthia, she slowly put her right hand above his and shook it.
“Merci for your company, your willingness to give this priceless information and paying for the best poutine I’ve ever ate, and is it possible to tell me the rest tomorrow at your house?”
She gave him a firm nod and replied, “I have a flexible schedule, and you can call me whenever you’re leaving your motel. Au revoir, Remy.”
She quietly walked out of Remy’s eyesight. Remy let go of a rueful breath. He started a long, peaceful trek back his hotel at the outskirts of the centre.
Minutes passed as a rouge twilight faded into a harsh werelight, his feet started to pick up speed with the dying light, with no logical reason other than an instinct of impending wariness.
A muted sound of scuffling behind him stopped his movement. He looked back, the grey apartments forming a protective spine to a plain sidewalk. He called out, in an echoing voice, “Who’s here?”
The response was overwhelming, a punch from his skull had knocked his wind out of him and ducked and rolled back to avoid a kick that would have broke his ribs.
He scanned his attacker, he saw a person with a slick black jacket with an attached hood, while his hands quickly rammed his jacket for his card deck. “Stupide shallow pockets.
“Looking for these?” A high, humourless voice with the sharpness of a laser came through the hood, Remy shivered and concluded it was a woman. In a single arc, she threw a silver object towards Remy who was stunned by the action and caught his precious cargo.
“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Remy demanded in a determined, but laboured voice. He projected his voice to the eyeless visage.
“I am Cynthia, and I’ve been sent to kill you.” The voice made his heart skip a beat, but also gave him some relief but as quick as he could use his charming voice, a quick grab at his trachea had broke his false security.
“Fu—é” Remy cursed as he backed away from a powerful roundhouse kick. “I command you, mademoiselle, to not attack me in any way.” He blurted out the words in a desperate gambit to stop the flurry of attacks diplomatically.
The assassin paused for a second, but still was relentless, adding, “You can try to poke my mental defences but by the time you get me, you won’t be around.” Remy firmly held his boxed cards and with a blink, started a repetitive motion of throwing his flaming cards at his would-be assassin.
The assassin miraculously dodged his every card with the ease of skipping rope and from only three arm lengths away from him. He decided to use the distraction as some time to strategize.
He focused on the memory of the woman’s voice and how it gives him fear, which only comes if it’s something familiar.
“Familiar…” he whispered, sending himself a wave of dread. His card went off and the woman immediately pounced on the opportunity, she sprinted towards him and he hastily grabbed his last card and marked it accurately it at the center of her chest.
To his horror, he finally knew the secret of how she could dodge his cards. At this time, she made no effort to dodge his card, instead she deliberately stopped. When the card reached an inch of her body, the card, like water down a drain, lost all the energy moving and holding it together to form a thin shower of ashes in front of him.
His mind went into intense panic as it processed the action. Undiscouraged, he threw the tin card box which repeated the actions of the card. He knew to take a hint.
He looked around his environment; he was in a clean, residential area with nothing he could use. The mutant used his last resort. He put up his hands and proclaimed, “Je rende.” (I surrender)
A icy laugh came from the remorseless killer, as quick as his eyes could follow,
She pulled out a .50 calibre pistol and he silently laughed at it, but when she quickly at point-blank shot him in the stomach, his brain figured out who his attacker was and the realization of what a normal person felt when a bullet hit them as he fell onto his knees.
The femme fatale overshadowed him and in a monotone, “I’ve been told to spare your life if you surrendered quickly, but I’m really here to send a message: leave Montreal if you want to keep your body or any of your loved ones.”
Remy at that point only heard that faintly, his breaths grew shallow and his vision started to blacken at the edges, he’s pretty sure he heard the voice of Death, bickering with Thanos which he thinks death wasn’t exactly a peaceful place. Just as quick, he started to feel his legs again and blood and air through his lungs, instead of breathing, he whispered “Cynthia, Cynthia…” as he awkwardly stood up and crutched his stomach to amble to her home with a bullet stuck in his abdomen.
If by too much of a coincidence, her house was barred by yellow police tape with witnesses that looked like shaken neighbours with stories of a bloodcurdling scream and a sudden disappearance of the resident, with an open window, as if she had flown away.
He tidied up himself, and gently persuaded all of the officers and curious onlookers to temporary leave the site as he went in. Inside, there was nothing erect, he thought it looked a lot like a hurricane that blew the room apart. He probed through appliances but had much frustration.
Finally, he found a huge hint, as in the corner of her lounge, hidden by large pieces of fallen furniture, was a small map with fresh X’s on the biggest major cities in Canada with Vancouver’s X exponentially large than the others. He made himself a silent vow.
“Cynthia, I don’t have any idea if you’re the killer that I have met but from all the things that have happened tonight, you might be the one. But from this afternoon, you were nothing like this and it’s my debt to owe you for all you done for me, and I’ll try my hardest to help you or to stop you before you hurt yourself or others.”
He looked around and saw a phone sitting on the ground, he pressed the talk button and heard a buzz, he then furiously punched in a number.
“Bonjour, C’est the Parima Agency? I would like to book a ticket to Vancouver today…”