Remy LeBeau May 12, 2014 21:33:52 GMT
Post by Deleted on May 12, 2014 21:33:52 GMT
NAME: Remy Etienne LeBeau
OCCUPATION: Former Thief, current member of the X-Men
MEMBER GROUP: X-Men
POWERS AND ABILITIES:
Gambit is capable of transforming the energy within objects into kinetic energy by the means of molecular acceleration, charging them to become explosives. It’s all done in a molecular level and his powers are psionic in nature, and by tapping into an object’s molecular structure, he accelerates them until enough kinetic energy has been stored to turn whatever it is that he wants into an explosive charge. The intensity of such charges are highly dependent on the amount of charge done to the object. The bigger the object, the longer it will take for him to completely charge it, and he can also control the intensity of said charge, creating small explosions to big ones that would be able to tear entire buildings down.
In addition to it, Gambit can use his molecular acceleration powers in order to imbue whatever object he wants with pure kinetic energy. Usually, he tends to do that with the bo staff that he wields on a very constant basis, using it in a way similar to tactile telekinesis –which gives him enough strength to tear down walls and destroy objects without the need of explosion.
Gambit prefers to charge small objects – the time required for the full charge is a lot lower, which gives him a better chance when in battle. His favorite objects are the playing cards, which he can use to charge with enough explosive energy that they have the same impact as small grenades. Also, the charged object only explodes when it’s no longer in contact with Gambit’s body. For as long as he is holding or touching the object he has charged, it will not be set off. <p>
The fact he can accelerate energy means that his own body hosts the same static energy that he can tap into to charge objects. It gives him a few advantages: enhanced agility and speed being one fact, but also, his mind is shielded from telepaths due to the constant static interference in his brain. His mind cannot be detected or surface-scans made, and only powerful telepaths can manage to break into that natural shield. But that also is not a pleasant experience, neither for the telepath, nor for Gambit himself.
He has been proven to have some sort of hypnotic effect on people through the charging of the energies in their brain. This has only been proven right for weaker individuals, while strong-willed people always seem to be less susceptible to his hypnotic charm.
However, he is just a human, and bleeds like one. He has the same weaknesses a normal man that engages in constant exercise and is in the top of his shape does. He doesn’t possess superstrength, despite being able to level down houses by charging the kinetic energy into his fists or an object such as his bo staff. If shot, maimed or stabbed, he will die.
Gambit is also a superb close-combat fighter, often preferring to use his bo staff as his weapon of choice. He also speaks fluent English and French, and a little bit of Japanese.
PLAYBY: Josh Holloway
PLAYER NAME: Betsy
OTHER CHARACTERS: James Buchanan Barnes
Cards flipping between agile fingers as if they were an extension of his own limbs. A smirk, almost impossible in its nature, on his lips. The bo staff was not too far from where he was sitting, and his black-and-red eyes often drifted to its location. One could never be too sure when it would be needed. Granted, yes, it was a social situation where he simply wanted to drink a nice cocktail and forget about everything else if only for a moment, but one could never be too sure. This was something he had learned early in life. Very early, in fact.
”Oui, chérie. It’s what I’m tellin’ ya. You gon’ check or you bailin’ out?”
The woman in front of him seemed to look at the cards in her hand, and back into the man’s odd-looking eyes. It didn’t seem to bother her, though. What did seem to bother her, however, was whatever was in her hand. And the fact she simply could not read the Cajun’s face. The definition of a poker face, if she had ever encountered one.
”You’re very hard to read, you know.”
He only smirked, leaning back on his chair, folding the cards because he didn’t need to look at them any longer. ”Oui. It’s the purpose of dis game, chérie. If you were meant t’be able to know what I have, tell me what fun it would be?”
She let out a frustrated huff. ”Fine. I’m paying for it. Show me your game.”
”Only the game, p’tite?" He grinned, leaning forward, placing both his elbows on the table before them. ”Sure I could show ya… many things, non?”
”Not interested.” But of course, she could not help noticing how easily the flirty words escaped his lips and how smooth it all sounded. ”Just show me the damn game.”
”So demandin’. Dey don’ make ladies as dey used to. Bien sur. Voilà.” As he laid down card by card ,it was a four. Queen of Hearts. ”My lady Queen ain’t abandonin’ me even as we play.” Bringing one of the cards to his lips, he kissed it, before putting it back on the table. ”I think now it’s time for you t’pay, eh? I’m waitin’.”
She grumbled. ”How much was it?”
”I think we had settled for a hundred dollars and a kiss.”
I don’t remember any kissing involved, smartass.”
”Non? Ah. Must be a clause I added after we started playin’. Don’t worry, chérie. I’m jus’ jokin’. Unless ya want to add it as a bonus.”> And he grinned again, which made her shake her head, and place a hundred-dollar bill on the table.
”I’m done playing with you.” Standing up, she grabbed her purse, and Remy’s eyes followed her movements closely.
”Dommage, chère. I was kinda likin’ our game.” Picking the glass in front of him, he brought it to his lips. Pure cognac, as he liked it. ”Au revoir, don’t be too grumpy ‘cause you’re too pretty t’be frownin’.”
She tossed her hair back with a humpf, and then left.
”Story of my life, mon ami,” he said, looking at the waiter who seemed to be familiar with the red-and-black-eyed Cajun that was exceptionally good at card games.
”No luck today, Gambit?”
”Ain’t every day we gon’ win everythin’, mon ami," he said, taking another sip of his drink. ”Dere are days we win at cards and lose at love. Such is life. C’est la vie..”
Not that he was looking for love. Love… he thought it a fairy tale, something that was told to children when they grew up so they would have something to hope for. For him? He had loved. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t. But love was fickle and it was not long-lasting and it was pointless, so what was the good sides of it anyway? When he was born into a prophecy that spoke of the White Devil, Le Diable Blanc, back in his native New Orleans, when his parents, his true parents, seeing the child’s odd-looking eyes, abandoned him at the hospital, what hope did he have for love? No, he enjoyed the flirting and the banter and the casual sex and the feel of a nice woman against his body but that was it. No love.
Not again, at least.
”Gimme another one, s’il te plait.” Shaking his glass, he looked at the waiter, who chuckled at him. ”Careful not to get drunk, Gambit.”
”Ah, don’t worry. Ain’t such a word in my vocabulary.”
Yet there had been. Plenty of times he felt the need to intoxicate himself to run away from his past. But the past always caught up. Every single time. Jean-Luc LeBeau had taken him off the streets when he was nothing but a child, raised him as his own son. The main name on the Thieves’ Guild, the leader, and his odd-looking-eyed son. Who was to become the heir and the new leader despite not being worthy of it by blood. It was a prophecy. Le Diable Blanc was meant to unify the guilds and end up the warring state they had been for generations. The Thieves and the Assassins, all united under one banner.
He twirled the contents of his glass idly, his hands applying the small charge to the surface, just the tingles of his powers that he managed to play with.
No, love was fickle. And when Bella Donna, the beautiful Bella Donna Boudreaux, the smart, the cunning, the sweet, the gentle but not less deadly Bella Donna, was promised to him in marriage, his young self believed there was something to be had there. It was the peace pact, the wedding that would unify the guilds. The one that would bring Assassins and Thieves together. Remy had had his share of training. He had long become a thief second to none, his skills unparalleled and unmatched, coupled with the natural charm that he was capable of. And then, when he saw her, in her wedding dress, beautiful with her blond locks cascading around her shoulders… he knew that maybe he had something there. A hope for something when he had had nothing but what Jean-Luc had given him.
And then, as usual, Lady Luck did what Lady Luck wanted. Blood on his hands, as stupid Julien Boudreaux decided he wasn’t worthy of his sister. A duel… and Remy played to win. He always played to win, especially when his life was the prize. And he won.
But then, he was banished. Tossed away from all the life he knew because having killed Julien meant that the war would start over unless he disappeared. And then, without even given Bella Donna a goodbye kiss, without having touched her soft skin or telling her how much he actually loved her, he left.
And when he realized, there was someone else now on his table, ready to challenge him at the game he knew best.
”So where are ya from, mon ami?” Tilting the contents of his glass down, he placed it on the table, looking at his new opponent.
”California. Travelling here, and heard that no one beats you at poker. I’m here to change that.”
Gambit could not help but chuckle, deep and amused. ”Ah bien…” Shaking his head, he smirked, reaching for the pack of cards and shuffling them with expertise. ”Ain’t nobody who came here an’ done that. You claim t’be the one dat can? We gon' see, hein?” Pushing the deck to the man to cut in half, then retrieving the cards once more, he dealt them, all five in a row, before pulling his own. ”Here we start. Hope you’re ready.”
Running had not been a fun thing to do but it was necessary. He was banished from his homeland, and so, Gambit simply wandered. He was a thief, and a thief could get many things with little effort, but the thing he truly got good at was gambling. Most of his money was achieved that way. And much bad blood was also achieved that way. Because sometimes it was winning against sore losers. Sometimes, it was winning against mob bosses and criminals. Many times there were wounds. Many times his cards went flying instead of placed on the table.
And yet, even now that he was a member of the X-Men, after meeting Storm, after helping her because he felt sympathetic towards her plight, after being invited in by Charles Xavier, he still felt that there were eyes everywhere. Following him.
”So, how ‘bout we start dis?” He tilted his head to the side, then traded the cards needed for him and for his opponent. Opening them little by little as if caressing a lover, he smirked, that impossible smirk of his that said that there was something that he was thinking. This time, however, he had nothing. No game but a pair of diamond Kings.
Kings were hardly reliable, he thought.
Yet, because everything was a matter of good bluffing, he bet anyway. ”So, what ya got dere has t’be better than what I got ‘ere.” And then, he laid back on the chair. ”I’m a gentleman, as you gon’ see… ain’t no treatin’ my opponents badly.”
The man looked at the amount, and then frowned. As if trying to figure it all out, then instead of laying down his cards, or his bet, he placed a gun on the table. ”I am not here to lose, Cajun. I know of your reputation. In fact, I am here to hunt you.”
If there had been tension on Gambit’s eyes, it was not shown. ”Oh bon… if dis is how ya wanna play, I ain’t gon’ say no.” Quickly flipping the table forward, he picked one of the cards up, giving it a charge enough to be tossed at the man’s feet to cause an explosion that would, more than likely, wound him enough to lose a leg. But the man had instincts, and so, he jumped backwards, trying to grab his gun. ”Nu-uh.” Gambit said, stepping on the weapon. ”Dis is my bar, mon ami. Here I am king. So you can go back to whoever sent ya here an’ tell ‘em dat Gambit ain’t easily killed. Many have tried, hein? Many have failed.”
Quickly, he jumped backwards and reached for his bo staff, moving forwards with some agility to push it against the man’s chest. ”So here’s what ya gon’ do. You gon’ take your sorry ass outta my bar an’ tell your boss t’send someone who can actually play dem cards. So at least I can have myself some entertainment before havin’ to show who’s got de cards ‘round here.”
And then, up to his feet, the man grabbed his weapon and simply scurried away. Taking a deep breath, Gambit looked behind at the crowd that had gathered, reaching for his pack of cards and his staff, putting the deck inside his trenchcoat’s pocket. ”Sorry ‘bout dat, ladies an’ gentlemen. Sometimes a show’s gotta have some action, hein?”
Leaving a few dollar bills on the table, more than enough to pay for his drinks and give his waiter buddy a damn good tip, he saluted him with two fingers before turning on his back and leaving.
Funny, he thought, that even being a member of the X-Men had not erased his past. And he doubted it ever would.