Kapitel 8: Chapter 7: The Shadows Move

The streets of Detroit seemed quieter than usual tonight. It had been two months since Tombstone's arrest, but the chaos he left behind still simmered in the underbelly of the city. Gangs were at war for the empire he once held, and violence had erupted like wildfire. Remy LeBeau—Gambit—walked casually through the city, his eyes alert but he didn't look like a man on edge. To anyone passing by, he was just another pedestrian blending into the city's landscape.

But inside, he could feel the tension, the undercurrent of danger that now seemed to define Detroit. Tombstone's arrest had done little to bring peace. If anything, it had sparked something worse—a brutal power struggle for control of his criminal network. The streets had become a battleground. Gambit's battleground.

He sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. "I see why Batman has sidekicks," he muttered to himself, hands in his pockets as he walked. "Gets tiring fightin' all dis crime by yourself." His accent rolled through his words, thick with his Cajun heritage, as he thought about the countless nights he had spent trying to clean up this mess on his own.

The city wasn't Gotham, but it had its own darkness, its own brand of madness. And without a partner, without someone to watch his back, Gambit was starting to feel the strain.

From a nearby rooftop, two figures watched him silently. The first, tall and broad-shouldered, stood like a statue, his gaze fixed on the man below. His mask, half-black, half-orange, glinted faintly under the dim light of the moon. Deathstroke—Slade Wilson—had been observing Remy for days now. The man intrigued him. Skilled, unpredictable, dangerous, and yet… something more.

Beside him, a woman stood with her arms crossed, her platinum hair catching the faint breeze. She wore an eyepatch over one eye, her remaining eye sharp with curiosity and frustration. "This is Gambit?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Slade's expression didn't change. "Yes. And you, Rose, are going to get close to him." His tone was cold, calculated. "Find out everything you can. That's your mission."

Rose's lips thinned into a line, clearly not thrilled by the idea. She sighed, brushing her hair back. "Whatever." She turned away from her father, her boots making no sound on the rooftop as she descended into the shadows below.

Slade watched her go, his one visible eye narrowing. Rose was skilled, more than capable of handling Gambit, but there was something about this assignment that unsettled him. Still, he didn't let it show. He never did.

Back on the street, Remy was lost in his own world. His headphones were blaring classic rock, his fingers mimicking the motions of playing an air guitar as he walked, oblivious to the storm brewing around him. He grinned to himself, letting the music distract him from the tension that had been his constant companion these last few months.

But as he rounded a corner, he collided with someone hard enough to knock them both to the ground.

"Oh, désolé, ma chérie!" Remy exclaimed, pulling his headphones off as he knelt to help the woman he had bumped into. She had fallen backward, but quickly regained her composure, pushing herself up with a grace that caught his attention.

"It's alright," she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "I wasn't paying attention either."

Remy looked at her for the first time and froze. She was striking—white hair falling in soft waves around her face, an eyepatch covering one eye, which only made her remaining eye burn with intensity. "Mon Dieu," he muttered under his breath, before flashing his trademark charming grin. "Didn't mean to knock down a beautiful lady like yourself. Name's Remy LeBeau." He held out his hand to help her up, his accent smooth and playful. "Very sorry 'bout that. Maybe I can make it up to you? Some food, maybe?"

The woman—Rose—raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused. "Food, huh? How could I turn down free food?" She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. "Name's Rose. No last name."

Remy chuckled. "Mysterious, I like dat." He dusted himself off and gestured toward a nearby diner. "C'mon, let me make it up to ya."

As they walked, Remy wasted no time flirting, his charm effortless. Rose, on the other hand, played it cool, though she was constantly assessing him, trying to figure out how much he knew about her, if anything. But the longer they talked, the more she found herself drawn to him. His easy-going nature, the way he laughed so freely, it was… disarming.

They sat down at the diner, ordering burgers and fries. Remy kept the conversation light, teasing her about her serious demeanor, which earned him a few playful jabs back. As the evening wore on, their banter became more genuine, flowing naturally.

"So, what brings a pretty girl like you to Detroit?" Remy asked, taking a bite of his burger.

Rose shrugged, trying to keep her guard up. "Just passing through. You know how it is."

"Oh, I know," he said, leaning forward slightly. "But you don't strike me as de type just passin' through. Seems like a girl like you's got bigger plans."

Rose smirked. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. What about you, Remy? What's a guy like you do around here, besides running into innocent women?"

Remy grinned. "Ah, you know, dis and dat. Play some cards, help people out, cause a little trouble here and dere."

She laughed, and for a moment, her mission faded from her mind. She found herself enjoying his company more than she intended. As the night went on, they moved from the diner to a nearby arcade, where Remy's competitive nature kicked in. They played air hockey, laughed as they failed miserably at shooting games, and ended up at the fair, where they rode a roller coaster that sent Rose's adrenaline skyrocketing.

By the time the sun began to set, the air around them had changed. What had started as a mission for Rose now felt different. She still had a job to do, but for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like the pawn in someone else's game. With Remy, it felt easy. It felt… fun.

As they stood at the entrance to the park, the evening sky painted in purples and pinks, Remy looked over at her, his playful smile still in place. "Been a good night, non?"

Rose nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah. It has."

They exchanged numbers before parting ways, and just before she turned to leave, Remy gently took her hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. "See you soon, chérie."

Rose's heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked it with a smirk. "You better." And with that, she walked away, disappearing into the night.

Later that night, Remy stood on a rooftop, his Gambit outfit blending into the shadows. The wind swept across the city, bringing with it the sounds of distant sirens. He crouched low, listening to the police scanner on his radio, waiting for the next call. But something felt off.

His instincts kicked in. Someone was behind him.

Without turning, he flicked a card into the air—a casual toss with no energy charge. The card sailed through the darkness before it was caught by a gloved hand. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in darkness, his presence commanding and dangerous.

Batman.

Remy stood, his eyes narrowing as the Dark Knight stepped into the moonlight.

"You're in danger, Gambit," Batman said, his voice low and measured.

Remy didn't flinch. "What else is new?"

But something in Batman's tone made Remy's smirk fade. "More than you know," Batman said, stepping closer, his cape swirling around him like a shadow.

Remy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Whatever Batman was talking about, it wasn't good.

The shadows were moving. And Gambit, whether he liked it or not, was now a part of something much bigger.