Author: aldar-beedo PM
It's a tough gig, being an X-man. Especially when you're an inanimate object.Rated: Fiction K - English - Remy L./Gambit - Words: 827 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 05-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8159244
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
He reaches up to the shelf. He runs his finger along the spines of my brethren and stops at me. His finger taps my corner gently. I've been chosen.
He slides me out from the row, weighs me gently in his palm. I am tipped over onto my front. I feel him snap the seal; it only hurts for a moment.
He pulls at my tab and exposes my components, my 52 organs, ready to serve.
I am turned upside-down, a rush of nausea accompanies as I spill out into his waiting hand.
He spreads me in a fan between his hands, skilfully. I've never experienced this sensation before. He brings me to his face and inhales my smell, the way I've seen him do to others many times before. A ritual. I do not question the ways of the master.
Too soon, I am squared up and he packs me back into my cardboard skin. I long for the attention of his hands, but I know my duty. I must be patient, wait as I have my entire life. Wait. To serve the master.
The coat pocket smells. Sweat, and smoke. The pack of cigarettes I'm sat with is not friendly. I hope the master moves me soon. I concentrate on what might be going on Outside. We've stopped moving and I can hear voices. I cannot understand the words, but the tone is urgent. I hope the master is not in danger.
To my elation, he reaches in for me. At first he grabs the cigarettes, and my heart falls. But it is me he's looking for. The light startles me at first. I am not used to such brilliance. His room was always so dark. The master can see so well in the dark.
He is nervous. He dribbles me gently between his gloved hands. I am so proud to have such a skilful owner. I am made dizzy as he shuffles me, I feel so twisted, as though everything is in the wrong place. But the movement soothes me, as it soothes him. I try my hardest to comply, try to serve as well as I can. I must not fall or falter. I must strive to riffle as smoothly as cards ever did. It is my purpose, my cause.
Too soon I am put back in a pocket, this time with some keys. They are weariful, but nice to me. They have served the master for so long. They tell me stories of the adventures they have heard and seen. I hope we are going on an adventure.
It is hours before the master takes me out once again, I am so relieved. But what I see terrifies me. People, awful people. The master is shouting, he is shouting and it pains me. In one hand he takes a single card from me. I do not understand.
Suddenly I am filled, brimming with an energy I cannot comprehend. Blazing with a purpose I do not know. So much power, so much force! Between his fingers I resonate, uncontrollably. I try to hold still, but I cannot help but move. What is happening to me?
Then he moves. Flicks his wrist so hard I fly, whistling through the air and in the impact I explode.
Such searing pain, such agony I could never have imagined. A part of me has been obliterated and I mourn for it, but before I can recover, he does it again. This time three parts. The pain does not dull.
Again and again he tortures me, tears pieces from me and flings them away. Every time, I die a little. A fraction of me is gone and will never be recovered.
Why would master hurt me so? Have not been loyal? Have I tried any less than my best to serve him?
Soon I am but a single card. Soon I know I will be eliminated too.
I wait, but he does not throw me. He is quiet. He is looking at me. He brings me to his lips. A silent thank you.
As though I am brought to life for the first time, I understand.
To protect him. To fight alongside him. This is my purpose.
Though you caused me great pain, I do not hate you, master.
I will do my best. For you.
He charges me one last time.
I concentrate. I must be the strongest card he has ever charged.
I must fly true.
He throws, I spin.
On target, I erupt. My resolve. His power. In one moment of glory, we are one. A synthesis greater than its parts.
And I know I have done my duty.
Thank you, Remy LeBeau.
If you're reading this, let me apologise. I just couldn't help myself.
Angry? Enraged? Outraged? Review! Your once in a lifetime opportunity to tell me how awful it was.