[X-men Evolution]--I wish to be free...even from me [Gambit-one-shot]

She looked at a long silver chain with two dog tags, which she put around her neck.

Stupid S.H.I.E.L.D.! Stupid stupid stupid S.H.I.E.L.D.! Stupid Nick Fury and stupid me

A lone figure in an oak tree tensed her body and jumped into another with amazing catlike agility. She sniffed the air and jumped down. Humans…and mutants were near. Both after HER prey. She wasn't about to let them have her prey.

No hunter ever allows its mission to escape.

A noise echoed in her ears…something an ordinary human may have never heard…but there it was again. A 'whoosh' in the air and she jumped away before a large figure came crashing down on the dusty soil.

A feline…like her. Bigger…stronger…less agile. She hoped it was less smart as well though she wouldn't bet her life on it.

It jumped her again.

In the moonlight long shaggy unkept blond hair could be seen…along with a scary face…and nasty fangs.

Code-name: Sabretooth.
Race: Mutant.
Age: Unknown.
Real name: Victor Creed.
Works under Magneto in the Acolytes group.
A result of DNA game between human genes and a saber-toothed tiger. Stay away from him and his claws. Sabretooth possesses superhuman strength, a healing factor and enhanced senses. He is a bloodthirsty psychopath who has murdered dozens, if not hundreds, of people both to fulfill his animalistic urges and as a mercenary. Nick Fury told her before the mission. She was going to enjoy this fight.

She avoided the claws from ripping her biceps. With a back flip she kicked him in the face and moved away. With a hiss she attacked.

Her turn!

The bigger they are…the harder they fall!

                                                     %-%

She dug her feet further into the soil and skillfully jumped over the electric fence, landing on her feet.

With no wound from the previous fight, but this time with no mask, she hid in the shadows. Sniffing again she advanced and jumped an unsuspecting guard, knocking him unconscious.

She flipped her black hair back and with bleu slit cat pupils searched the perimeter for intruders…others than her of course. Finding none she knocked the me-tal door down and used her cat vision to see any laser beams.

That was easy…too easy

Go down the main hall. Avoid the lasers and go to the door in the back. Use maximum stealth.

Why did Fury's voice kept nagging her? She knew her mission.

Her senses blared. Fire…smoke…and whisky?

Code-name: Pyro
Race: Mutant
Age: 19
Real name: St. John Allerdyce
Works under Magneto in the Acolytes group.
Pyro's power is the psionic ability to manipulate flame by shaping it as he desires, increasing or decreasing its heat, intensity, and size. He cannot actually create fire himself, however, and consequently wears a costume with a built-in flame-thrower. He can psionically manipulate the flame to do whatever he desires, and sometimes induces it to take semi-solid form as an animate flame being. The degree of Pyro's concentration necessary to manipulate a flame being is directly proportional to the being's size, power, and flame.

" 'ello there sheila. Come to play?" he spoke in a powerful accented alto that annoyed her hearing, just like his powerfully red costume and reddish hair affected her vision.

With a chain of flips she launched herself at him. A powerful blow to his head knocked him unconscious.

He never saw it coming!

"Maybe" she whispered back in a husky low voice and walked further.

                                                                          %-%

Sound of steps alerted her as she jumped up and sinking her claws in the me-tallic ceiling. She sniffed.

Humans

Not worth losing time with. Tensing her muscles she focused on her position and started thinking in order to dull the pain that attacked her arms and legs.

Why was she doing this? Simple.

Freedom….freedom

Her last mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. and she would be free to have a life. To disappear, to turn into a ghost. To vanish from this world as if she never existed.

She was a mutant…yes. An animalistic mutant with traits of a feline and claws of adamantium. She had the works…powerful fangs, claws that could retract yet always ready to kill the next victim hidden behind her normal fingernails just like a normal cat. Years of training made her powerful…close to indestructible with no apparent weakness.

Except her heart.


The humans passed on and she jumped back on the ground. She put her hair behind her ear and continued walking. She hoped for no interruptions but quickly dismissed it. Hope was not something to care for in a battle and a warrior had no hope.

She reached a door and saw it open. Pushing it aside she waited to sense one of the last of Magneto's Acolytes…Colossus, the Russian tank was not around. She knew that.

His powers were not something worthy of the name stealth and only threw his size he could attract attention. That left only one: the Cajun.

Steady steps were made and her senses were stretched to the maximum in order to sense everything around her.

She grinned.

There you are puppet

A mixture of spicy masculine cologne, ash, sweat and yet again…old whisky tickled her nostrils.

Knees bent, in an attack position she forced herself to sense his position. The harsh reality struck her down.

The whole hallway smelled powerfully of his odor and there was no way for her to spot his location.

That is…until a loud whistle erupted from his lips and she turned around to face him. A whistle of admiration.

Lean body. More athletic than muscular, shaggy light brown hair falling in his unique eyes: Red on black. Even in a state of total denial of his charisma and attractiveness she still agreed with herself that…those were her favorite colors.

"Now Gambit wasn't expectin' dis" he said in a thick bastardized French accent that caressed her inner ear. She raised an eyebrow.

"What are ya doin' 'ere petite? 'Tis no place for a femme as belle as you" he insisted walking towards her. She took a step back in caution.

"Why do ya fear Gambit petite? Gambit won't hurt such a pretty femme" he said his eyes blaring a little. A wave of warmth rose from the pit of her stomach and she got butterflies.

"Don't do that again Cajun" she hissed glaring, her eyes now slits and bent her knees further in an attack position more tense than before.

"No need for that petite chat…ya see we're on da same side…you an' me. We're both on our' own 'ere" he approached.

She shifted her feet. She wasn't going to attack someone who wasn't going to fight back. Cursed honor!

"Maybe we can get to an agreement…Gambit 'elp you…you 'elp Gambit" he moved his hands revealing his chest in a welcoming manner and his eyes blared again.

She narrowed her eyes at him and mentally shook her head. Her fists were relieved of the pressure as her cat claws appeared.

"Ya wanna hurt Gambit? Now why would ya wanna do that? Gambit is bein' a decent guy…nice even. Let's work togetha'…ya see dat way we can be in the main room…sharin' da goods"

Sharing…foreign word for her. Useless even. She relaxed a little and stood straight. Under the piercing red eyes she felt as if she didn't have her leather suit.

She didn't realize how close she let him come…and how he pinned her to the me-tal wall.

With a gentle touch he put her hair behind her ear and his thumb brushed her lower lip. The other hand rested on her hip before moving to her lower back. The thumb caressed her cheek and headed for her neck and down, traveling down her chest to her other hip. All this time the eye contact was never broken. His lips descended to hers and gently nibbled on her lower lip before locking completely.

Code-name: Gambit, Le Diable Blanc
Race: Mutant
Age: 19
Real name: Remy LeBeau
Works under Magneto in the Acolytes group.
A mysterious and charismatic former professional thief. Gambit possesses the ability to charge objects, usually his trademark playing cards, with kinetic energy, causing them to explode. He is also skilled in breaking and entering, the use of a Bo staff and hand-to-hand combat, particularly the French kickboxing martial art Savate. On several occasions he has shown an ability to charm people through mild hypnosis and seems able to scramble attempts at mind reading and psychic attacks because of the charged potential energy always in his body.

Damn you Nick Fury

Her claws already in the open, and the hypnosis, now not even a memory she took control and pushed herself a little off the wall before dragging her right hand to his cheek, caressed it and slashed it, pushing him away at the same time.

She smelled the me-tallic fluid on her claws and smirked at the thought that she drew blood.

" Mauvais chat! Wanna play hard wit' Gambit?" he said wiping the blood of his cheek reveling a triple bloody wound. "Gambit play hard wit' you"

He took out a me-tallic Bo that extended and got into a fighting position.

Now this was her territory. An attack at her feet was useless as she jumped into the air and delivered a kick to his chest sending him backwards. As soon as she landed she roughhouse kicked him again sending him into a wall.

"Oops…little Cajun hit his head" she whispered in a child like voice and bent down.

"Did anyone tell you, you have the most beautiful eyes ever?" she kissed his eyelids, than his lips before standing and walking towards the main door leaving him a small souvenir. "Good night sweet rogue prince" she whispered.

Later on, a shadow jumped over the fence with a small bottle with green liquid in it. No one knew she was there…and she was sure the little rogue prince had gotten away.

You're finally free Allix she smiled.

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A lone slender figure was standing alone on the dark alleys of New York. Raven hair flew in the gentle wind breeze. Allix thought she was alone…alone with her thoughts and memories but most of all…freedom.

"Thought" was the key word. A new scent penetrated threw the thick autumn air…a familiar pleasant odor of a man that was left behind from her new life.

"Remembe' me cherie?" she turned to see a familiar face as well.

The eyes that caused her stomach to sink and have butterflies only at their remembrance.

He was coming towards her, in his right palm a familiar silver chain with two dog tags served as toy. Soon they were face to face.

She gave a small smile.

"Cajun prince…to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We 'ad some business to take care off, you an' ol' Gambit"

She raised an eyebrow playfully and cocked her head to the left.

He lowered his lips on hers…

"Ya owe me petite chat" he whispered threw the kiss.

She dragged her fingers over almost the almost invisible scars of a triple claw wound.

Two lone figures were standing alone on the dark alleys of New York. The wind blew…over a cat and a thief

On the alley…stood no one.