Title: Black Magick
Author: Spirit Melody (kat@lsak.fsnet.co.uk) & Firesong (firesong@ukonline.co.uk)
Website: none
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Black Magick 12
By Spirit Melody & Firesong
Remy listlessly slipped into the state of sleep when you’re certainly not fully alert, but you’re not asleep either. Some part of him was aware of the sounds and smells around him… but they’re distant. He felt almost untouchable. Perfectly safe without even realising it.
Then he got the urge to cough or breathe deeply, as if something was blocking his oxygen intake. But he could breathe absolutely fine. His chest felt a little tight, and his throat was somewhat sore, but his ability to breathe was fine.
It was when he tried to lift one of his hands that he was startled back into opaque reality. He couldn't do it. His hand was strapped down. Restrained to a… cold, hard, chrome metal table?
…A lab table.
‘Non! NON!!!’
In a dizzying flash all the events of the last several days hurtled to the front of Remy’s mind. ‘Logan…Creed. Mon Dieu.’
‘I should be dead.’ Remy had been positive of the finality surrounding everything as Creed held him under the water. But he was very much alive and as well as he had been before Creed had made his unwelcome re-appearance in Remy’s life. Remy cursed his life. If it wasn't Creed making his life hell, it was the one man in the world that caused Remy so many conflicting emotions, and different fears. He had held Remy in his icy grasp so long, that Remy began to wonder about the futility of it all. 'Every time I break away, 'e's back. All de times I push him back, 'e just comes outta de shadows to catch me 'gain.'
Sinister. The name made Remy almost fall apart inside, every time it just got harder to keep it together.
A myriad of terrifying and violent memories assaulted Remy’s mind. Was there anyone else in the whole entire universe that he feared more? Not more, though one individual from his early childhood probably possessed that same power of horror over him. His keen hearing alerted him to approaching echoing footsteps, they were almost too loud in the room, which was silent apart from harsh, laboured breathing that was not Remy’s own.
He opened his eyes, immediately grateful of the soft lighting in the cold sterile lab. He found it awfully difficult to breathe as he looked up into the passive face of Nathaniel Essex. Remy had always thought ‘Sinister’ suited the clever monster much better. The man was in his human form, yet he only looked marginally less evil than when he was metal like.
“Ah, Remy, I see you’re awake.”
“Get away from me!” Remy struggled wildly in the restraints, not caring as the freezing metal cut into the soft flesh of his wrists and ankles. He shook mostly from fear, but also from the chill of the lab. The closed black silk robe he was dressed in did nothing to protect Remy from the cold’s effects.
Sinister sighed and put a hand on Remy’s chest, then pushed down and effectively stopped most of the frantic movements.
“Calm down child. The only thing you’ll accomplish by struggling so violently is harm to yourself.”
Remy found himself conceding to Sinister’s point. He didn’t have much of a chance of escape right now, so Remy decided it was better that he sustain his full strength until he did. Essex removed his hand and Remy turned his head to the side opposite to Essex, and closed his eyes. Sinister couldn’t see as Remy’s lips moved silently, forming the words of desperate prayers, to the Holy Mary, and the myriad of saints. All who seemed to have stopped listening to him years ago, if indeed they ever had?
“I apologise for Sabretooth’s attempt to kill you. I was most displeased when I found out he’d tried to drown you; however, I have repaired the damage he and the salt water inflicted upon your lungs... as well as all the other injuries on your body.” He tutted, "You've not been taking good care of yourself Remy. Your weight is at least half what it should be, and from various tests I've carried out so far, your digestive system had slowed a great deal, indicating starvation." His tone was now like a berating school master, but didn't bother him in the least that Remy wasn't looking at him. "This is unacceptable Remy, you understand?"
Again, Remy didn’t reply. He was focusing all his energy toward keeping himself relatively calm, therefore assuring that the mind barriers that kept his charm power caged in were as impenetrable and as stable as they were going to get. He’d guessed long ago that it was his charm power that allowed Sinister to feel emotions. His charm was one of the main banes of his existence.
Sinister checked the thick metal restraints that held down Remy’s wrists and ankles, making sure they were tight without causing injury, and completely free of anything Remy could use as an unlocking mechanism. He pulled a small syringe from his jacket pocket, and injected a sedative into his captive's arm. He knew Remy was resourceful, and didn't wish to leave anything to chance. Then he walked away to oversee various experiments and document results, satisfied that Remy wasn’t going anywhere.
The Cajun quickly became very, very tired. But he forced his eyes to stay open even though it was such a struggle every time he blinked.
He heard the constant rugged breathing louder suddenly, as if whatever it was making the sounds, was coming closer. It was barely distinguishable from the breathing of a huge wild beast. 'But why would Sinister ‘ave one of de animals out?' Then it suddenly clicked.
'Sabretooth.'
In a split second Remy was looking up into the maliciously sneering face of Victor Creed. He didn’t look good. It wasn’t that there were any noticeable wounds on Creed’s body, there weren’t. But Remy knew that didn’t mean Sinister hadn’t somehow given Creed a world of hurt. Sabretooth smiled suddenly, leant down and kissed Remy firmly on the lips. Remy whimpered in shock and at the intense pain as Creed’s two sharp canines bit down into the tender flesh of his bottom lip.
Creed drew back but kept his head in very close proximity to Remy’s face.
“I meant what I said kid. I’m gonna get ya back for what ya did.” He slipped a rough hand under Remy’s robe, laying it on the Cajun’s flat stomach, slowly lowering his hand till the tips of his fingers were nestled in the auburn curls. Remy started struggling again, panicking from the idea of being taken so forcefully again by Creed. “I’m gonna make yer life hell here, and I’m goin’ ta enjoy it so much.” He licked a wet trail down Remy’s neck, and over his wildly beating pulse, before bringing his claws out just enough to cause pinpricks on Remy's skin.
Remy couldn’t stay quiet. He was terrified, and in the situation he was in, he was having trouble remembering whether he was 18 almost 19, or 23. Everything seemed to be exactly the same. The same pain, same fear, same shame and humiliation… same wetness pooling around his eyelashes. Creed leaned even closer, his mouth and nose became buried in Remy's hair. "You smell so damn good when yer scared Cajun, almost makes me wanna fuck yer right here."
“Stop.” He moaned, "Sil vous plait."
Creed threw his head back and laughed. “Pity yer all tied down Cajun, could’ve had a lot of fun. But I c’n wait.” He took his hand away and slapped Remy on the flank, before half walking/ half hobbling off.
Remy closed his eyes and tried to calm his heaving breaths. He wished he knew some of Logan’s meditation techniques. Despite the cold and the uncomfortable surface he was lying on he gradually started falling into sleep and dreams.
*****
When Remy awoke he expected to feel the cutting cold of steel biting into his skin. But now he felt warm, comfy and realised he was covered by a thick blanket and was lying in a large soft bed. Without opening his eyes he already knew where he was. The exact feel of this bed seemed to be fully ingrained within his memory. Essex’s private chambers. It scared him, but he didn’t show much of an outward reaction to it.
He shifted in the bed when he felt eyes upon him, almost wanting to hide by throwing the covers over his head. Instead, he threw them off him and jumped from the bed, tightening the robe around himself and staring evenly at the man the other side of the room.
Sinister calmly walked nearer to Remy, taking in the wide frightened eyes and slightly laboured breathing with each perfectly measured stride. He held a hand out, palm up, to try and convey to the Cajun that he had no particular bad motives. At least not for now.
“There’s no need to be so agitated Remy. I just want to talk with you. Take a seat.” He gestured to the chair in the corner of the room, that was situated to his left. Remy followed the direction of the hand movement, decidedly warily so. The Cajun’s eyes then flashed in defiance and he merely sank down to the floor where he was, tucking both legs under him to one side and defensively wrapping his arms round his waist.
“You betrayed me four years ago.” Sinister stated simply in an even tone.
Remy’s eyebrow twitched. “’Ow could I ever betray you? T’ betray someone y’ need t’ be loyal to dem first. I never felt an ounce o’ loyalty towards you.” He almost spat the last word, venomously, though he was quivering inside.
Essex neither agreed with, nor refuted this claim.
“Even so,” he started to speak again, “I offered to give you your freedom, if you did something in return for me. You got your freedom, and I got most of what I wanted; but with no help from you.”
“I never believed y’ would give me m’ freedom. I still don’. An’ even if I did, I would never ‘ave helped you! It was genocide! Dere… dere were children,” Remy shook, distraught, as memories began to engulf him.
Essex laughed. "You were a child once too Remy. That didn't stop people like the antiquary, so why should you think that would stop me?"Remy pushed past the comment. “When I knew what you were plannin’… it was horrifying! Dey had no chance. Even though my soul be goin’ straight t’ Hell, I knew I had to try an’ save some of deirs from goin’ t’ Heaven so quick.”
"But then Remy… You always were a good Catholic boy, who always did what he was told." Essex chuckled again at Remy’s discomfort.
*****
~Four years ago~
Every muscle in Remy’s arms, shoulders and stomach seemed to tremble as he lifted himself off the floor time and time again, hands violently gripping the strong metal bar he was using to go through the motions of this one particular exercise in his rigorous regime.
He was miles away from the level of fitness he’d possessed just about six months ago, before he’d been taken here. But he was trying to regain as much as he could, even though there were many days when simple movement caused unbearable agony.
He dropped to the floor again and removed his hands from the bar. With one hand he pushed back bangs of long hair that were sticking to his face with sweat. That was fine though, because he could shower now. He could when confined to Sinister’s rooms; they had a large, and quite luxurious for Essex, bathroom which was the focus of some okay and some terrifying reasonably recent memories. Well, more the setting rather than the focus. The focus was much more painful. Remy shuddered and pushed the macabre thoughts out of his mind. But there wasn’t much else to think about. Everytime he did think of something else, like his family back in New Orleans; the home he could never go back to, he just wanted to cry.
He walked into the bathroom and took off the grey soft cotton shorts and T-shirt that were pretty much the only clothes he ever wore now. He showered quickly, too nervous about being naked to take any pleasure from the warm water cascading down his shivering skin. Now that the aches in his muscles were subsiding, his attention was unwillingly brought back to the throbbing pain between his legs. It wasn’t bad; he hadn’t been taken for a little while. Enough though to anchor his consciousness to the physical and not let him seek out some quiet, dark, safe…. numb place in his mind to rest in.
He stepped out of the shower and dried off hastily. Putting a new set of the shorts and T-shirt combination on he padded back into the bedroom but sat down on the floor against the wall. He’d never sit or lay on the four poster bed if he didn’t have to.
The room was so quiet, no personal effects were allowed. Not that Remy got the chance to pick up any keepsakes.
Finally, he pulled on some shoes and settled for a walk. There was some leeway of movement that Essex gave him, but he still felt like a dog on a yard chain most of the time.
A short while later, he was standing on a deserted, rocky beach. The skies were grey, and the water wasn't very calm. A few rocks below him, the water crashed against the rocky shore. The wind wasn't cold, but it still cut through him enough for him to need to wrap his arms around himself. The sounds of the water, the birds and the wind whistling through caverns in the rocks helped calm his troubled spirit.
Helped him almost forget the life he now led with Essex. As much as he tried to hold the tears back, they still fell. He looked out over the dark waters, towards what could be home. He missed his family, his friends. Just someone to talk to, somebody to help him through his pain. He felt so alone and so helpless. He looked up to the sky seeing a bird flying out across the water, and his hopes picked up a little. Was it so wrong to allow himself just little hope, that one day he'd be away from here and on his way back home?
The scene flickered and returned to a cold dark room. 'I guess it was. I’m not ever gonna get away from here.’ He sat down on the floor, arms still wrapped around himself. ‘I just wan' to go home.’ Remy would have dissolved into tears, but then someone walked into the room and Remy glanced up, but upon seeing the scary visage of Essex he lowered them to the floor again, somewhat lacking the energy to start fighting again today, for a few minutes anyway. Besides, it never made any difference in the result; apart from easing a little guilt on his behalf that he wasn’t giving into this.
Sinister walked towards him and leant down, pulling the Cajun up first of all with a hand round his arm and then two arms locked around the slim enticing waist as he held Remy’s back to him. Remy started to fight now, he thrashed in Sinister’s unforgiving grasp, not doing all that much harm at all but enough for Essex to get slightly irritated. Sinister ground his groin against Remy’s firm buttocks in a clear warning. Remy stilled but the anxiety radiating off him was almost palpable.
Despite his lethargy only a few moments ago, Remy could never stop fighting when he was terrified. As Sinister’s grip around his waist relaxed he dove forward. But he wasn’t up to his normal speeds and the scientist was faster. Before he knew it, he was none too gently slammed back against Sinister’s hard chest. Then one of Essex’s hands twisted itself into his hair and yanked Remy’s head to one side. Remy wasn’t sure what Sinister was about to do until he felt the sudden lightning pain of teeth tearing through the skin of his neck and he screamed for a second. Sinister withdrew and lapped up some of the blood that flowed out of the wound, but more still gushed down Remy’s chest. It was a deep and vicious bite. He couldn’t stop the pained whimper escaping his lips as Essex teased the wound with his tongue.
“Stop fighting Remy.” Came the command spoken in his ear.
Remy’s body slumped in submission but he whispered one word, “Never.”
Sinister smiled, amused at the comment. Remy had indeed proved more than difficult to break. And if Essex was being fully truthful, then he wasn’t that sure he wanted to break him. What Remy had deemed his ‘charm power’ was merely the tool that allowed Sinister to access the many emotions cut off from him years ago by Apocalypse… but it was Remy himself that Essex was attracted to. And it wasn’t just the young Cajun’s body, strikingly beautiful as it may be, there was something about the child as a personality and well, soul some might say, that utterly enthralled Nathaniel.
“I have another job for you.”
Remy raised an eyebrow, though Sinister couldn’t see the movement. He’d been forced to do a few jobs for Essex before. Stealth and stealing all of them. Never on his own, normally Creed went along too. It would be far too risky to let him go on his own with nothing to stop him just taking off. It would be safer to just not use his skills at all, but Sinister knew there was no point possessing one of the world’s greatest professional thieves and not using him.
“Stealing somet’ing?” Remy asked quietly.
“In a way. But more like… acquiring and collecting information rather than stealing it.”
“Wha’ do you wan’ me t’ do?”