Friday, March 25, 2011

A new thing for Fridays

I thought on Fridays I would start posting ongoing stories I've written or will write. I'm starting with a Mavel Fan Fic, a what if instead of modern day New York, the Marvel comic universe had been born in the Wild West. Enjoy!

Marvel 1878


Remy LeBeau had been playing cards at The Thunderbolt for ten minutes when trouble came looking for him. It almost always did, and it always found him. Remy wasn't quite twenty, with brown hair falling from beneath a bowler hat to his shoulders, and smoky round lenses hiding his unique eyes from view.

“Well I'll be damned.”

Tony Stark sat across from Remy, twice as old and a hundred times richer. Well, ninety-nine times richer now, as Remy tossed his cards to the dealer and scooped a pile of money from the center of the table to a position in front of him.

“Now, now, I warned you when you sat down.” Remy spoke, his Cajun accent thick and unmistakable. “You play wit' me, you ain't gonna leave with heavy pockets.” Remy smiled, his teeth dazzlingly white. “Dat goes to everyone at this here table, but I reckon you got the most to lose, Mr. Stark.”

“That I do, young man, That's why I'm always sure to leave some at home, otherwise my sporting nature is likely to get me into some trouble.”

The dealer dealt five cards each to Remy and Tony, and the other three men at their table, and they took turns wagering with cash, coins, and pocket watches. There was even an old six shooter thrown onto the table. Behind those glasses, Remy's eyes moved past Tony's shoulder, to two approaching men, both looked furious.

“Trouble is a comin'.”

Harry Osborn stopped at the table, standing behind Tony, but he only had eyes for Remy. He looked much like his father, his hair brown with flecks of red, though his was missing the grey at the temples.

“Baby Osborn.” Remy grinned.

“You got some brass ones, you son of a bitch.” Harry's voice was booming, causing the heads of the gamblers, drinkers, and whores alike. The man beside Harry was a Russian named Alek, who spoke much less than he broke bones. Harry continued, as Tony slid out of his way. “You come into my casino? When you owe me as much as you do.”

“Well two points, I think.” Remy answered. It's you daddies casino, and I don't owe you shit.” A few laughs emerged from the crowd.

“You stole money.”

“You lost money. I won it fair.”

“Bullshit. Who knows what tricks you have up them dirty Cajun sleeves.”

“I'll show you. Let me deal you in.” Remy picked up one of the cards from the table before him, and it starting glowing, a soft pink. He flicked the card forward, and it stuck into the heavy oak table by a corner.

“What the hell is this?” Harry laughed, looking over to Alek. As he did, the card, and in turn a large part of the table, exploded. The force and chunks of woods pushed Harry back and off his feet, and even the overgrown Alek had to take some steps back. Shrieks from the women, and a few of the men who would never live it down rang through the air as Remy was on his feet and pulling his long duster from the back of his chair and on. He picked up another card and this one was charged and thrown into the chest of Alek, who had been drawing his gun. The large man flew some feet back, crashing into a roulette table. Remy gathered as much money from the ruined table and stuffed it into his pocket.

“He's a mutie!” Someone yelled. “Send for the Sheriff!”

“Until next time, Mr. Stark.” Remy flashed that grin and turned to leave when a fist caught him in the jaw. More of Osbornes goons had shown up. Remy let himself fall, rolling with the punch and coming up next to a still seated Stark in a crouch. Stark drank liqueur from a glass.

“Nice eyes.” Tony laughed, and Remy realized his glasses had come off in the hit. His eyes were black where most were white, and his irises glowed with the same pink that the cards had. Grabbing the glass from Tony's hand, Remy charged it and threw it at his attacker, it exploded and sent him flying. With a last look to Tony, Remy turned and charged fro the front door, dodging fists and chairs, as the place had been turned into a full fledged brawl. Through the large swinging doors, and Remy was in the streets of Marvel City, Arizona, being pursued by a handful of men.

Sheriff Steve Rogers sat at his desk, his deputy on duty Clint stood at the door to one of the cells, passing a tray of food into a prisoner. Through the front door, a man burst. “Sheriff! A mutie down at The Thunderbolt is causing trouble! He attacked Harry!”

“Norman ain't gonna like that.” Clint spoke, reaching for his bow and quiver. He was a white man in his early twenties, but had spent some time among the Indians, which gave him an affinity for the bow and a tomahawk. “Want me to take care of it, Boss?”

“I'll ride along with you.” The Sheriff spoke, grabbing his hat from his desk as he stood. He wore a blue vest, his shining sheriffs star pinned on the chest. He slung his gun belt around his hips, and he and his deputy were out the door.

Remy crept along an alley, darting to and from wooden crates filled with some stinking mess. He was pretty sure he was alone, but wouldn't take any chances until he found a horse he could steal and get the hell out of downtown. Remy paused at a corner, took a deep breath and stepped around it. An arrow came from the darkness, whistling through the air and imbedding itself in the wall by his head. “Shit!” Remy cursed and threw himself forward in a roll, then he was up and running. He heard another high pitch whistle and dove forward, shielding his head with his hands. Remy rolled over twice and was up again, hurtling around another corner, and found himself skidding to a halt in front of the Sheriff. “Shit.” He said again.

“You the one causing trouble in my town?”

“I don't cause it, it finds me.”

“Well, I reckon you might want to get out of here, I ain't interested in taking you to the station and having a mob outside the door all damned night. So you just do me a favor and leave and don't come back.”

Remy didn't need to be told twice, he turned and was ready to run again when Sheriff Rogers grabbed his shoulder. “I wouldn't go that way. Hawkeye missed you twice, and he don't like missing.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Down there and take a left, straight shot
and stick to the shadows, then out over Grimms' farm. You leave his horses well alone, but I don't think he would mind if you grab corn.”

Remy opened his mouth to speak, but The Sheriff jabbed him with a finger in the ribs. “I know, I'm a swell guy. Get going.” Remy nodded and disappeared into the shadows.

“ I hate missing.” Hawkeye turned the corner, sliding his bow onto his back.”

“Well, I guess I owe you one.”

“Why'd you let him go?”

“I don't got nothing against em, but a lot of people do. Mutants I mean. I'd rather they just weren't here.”

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