Chapter 5: Rising from the Ashes

Remy sat in the wrecked apartment, the silence around him oppressive. The dim light flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the trashed room. His breath was heavy, his chest tight with frustration and pain. The Reyes family was gone, taken by Tombstone, and all because of him. The anger inside him bubbled over, but it was laced with disappointment. He felt weak. Useless.

He'd been bested—first by Taskmaster, then by Tombstone. Two street-level villains. The real Gambit—the one from the comics and stories—could take on cosmic beings, titans that dwarfed even gods. And here he was, struggling against a mob boss and a mercenary. It gnawed at him, sinking into his bones, whispering that he didn't belong here. That this was a mistake.

The pain in his body was nothing compared to the gnawing doubt in his mind. He slumped against the wall, his head in his hands. What was the point? Why did he even try? Why had he been sent here—into this universe where he was clearly outmatched? What had been God's plan?

His thoughts spiraled until a memory surfaced—a conversation with Jaime from just days before.

"You ever get scared?" Jaime had asked, wide-eyed with curiosity. His voice had been innocent, as if he couldn't quite understand the weight of what Remy was doing.

Remy had smiled then, though it felt so distant now. "Every time I go out there, kid. Every single time."

Jaime had blinked in surprise. "Then why do it?"

Remy's response had come without hesitation, words that weren't his but had been passed down through time. "Because someone once told me, 'With great power must come great responsibility.'"

Jaime's eyes had lit up. "That's an awesome quote. Who told you that?"

Remy had paused, thinking of Peter Parker, a man who had sacrificed everything for that creed. "A good man," he'd said simply.

The memory tugged at Remy's heart. He could still see the admiration in Jaime's eyes, the trust, the belief. And now, Jaime was out there—kidnapped, in danger—because Remy had failed.

But then, just as quickly, that memory became his anchor. Jaime believed in him. They believed in him. The Reyes family had taken him in, no questions asked, and nursed him back to health. Jaime had looked up to him, seen him as a hero.

Remy's fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He couldn't give up. Not now. He wasn't just doing this for himself anymore—he was doing it for them. For the people who still had faith in him, even when he doubted himself.

He rose to his feet, the pain in his body a dull throb. His eyes hardened as determination surged through him, burning away the doubt. He had power, and with that power came responsibility. He couldn't afford to fail again.

With renewed focus, Remy made his way to the small makeshift workshop he'd set up in his apartment. The suit he'd worn before lay on the table, torn and battered from his encounters with Taskmaster and Tombstone. It wouldn't do—not this time.

He began to work, his hands moving with purpose as he crafted a new suit. The design remained mostly the same, sleek and functional, but this time he added something more. Across the chest, he added an emblem—a large "X" that paid homage to one of the greatest teams ever. It was a reminder of where he came from, of the heroes who had fought for something bigger than themselves.

This new suit was more armored, reinforced with stronger materials that would protect him better in the coming battle. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He couldn't.

When he finally stood back and looked at the finished product, he felt a sense of resolve wash over him. He wasn't just Remy anymore. He was Gambit, and it was time to live up to that name.

Night had fallen as Gambit moved through the city, the shadows wrapping around him like a second skin. He hit every one of Tombstone's known drug hideouts, methodically interrogating anyone who might know where Jaime and Rocio were being held. The thugs were scared, but not scared enough to talk—at least, not at first.

It wasn't until the fifth hideout that he finally got a lead. One of Tombstone's men, after a bit of "persuasion," let slip that they were being kept at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Gambit wasted no time.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, a hulking shadow against the night sky. From his vantage point on a nearby rooftop, Gambit scanned the area. He counted at least thirty men patrolling the perimeter, armed to the teeth. Tombstone wasn't taking any chances.

Gambit's mind raced. He couldn't just go in, guns blazing—not with Jaime and Rocio inside. If he made one wrong move, they could get caught in the crossfire. He'd have to be smart about this.

Moving silently, Gambit began his infiltration. He crept through the shadows, taking out the guards one by one, using the element of surprise to his advantage. Each takedown was precise and quiet—an elbow to the temple, a charged card slipped into a pocket, exploding with just enough force to knock someone out cold.

But as the numbers dwindled, Gambit knew his luck couldn't hold forever. When he took down his fifteenth man, the guard's gun went off as he fell, the shot echoing through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

The remaining guards sprang into action, rushing out of the building, guns drawn.

Gambit cursed under his breath. "Batman makes this look so much easier," he muttered as he readied his bo staff.

The fight that followed was brutal and fast. Gambit moved like a blur, dodging gunfire and taking out his attackers with a combination of acrobatics and kinetic energy. Each swing of his staff cracked against bone, each card thrown exploded with precision. The guards never stood a chance, but they kept coming.

One man lunged at him with a knife, but Gambit sidestepped, his staff spinning in his hands before he delivered a sharp blow to the back of the man's head. Another guard fired at him from behind, but Gambit twisted in mid-air, hurling a charged card that detonated the gun in the guard's hands, sending him flying.

By the time the last man hit the ground, Gambit was breathing hard, his muscles aching. But he couldn't stop now. He had to find Jaime and Rocio.

He made his way deeper into the warehouse, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally found them, they were tied up in a small room at the back. Rocio's face was bruised, but she was conscious. Jaime looked terrified, his eyes wide as he saw Gambit enter.

"Gambit!" Jaime exclaimed, relief flooding his voice.

Rocio looked up, her expression tense. "They want you to meet Tombstone at his penthouse," she said, her voice strained. "They were using us as bait."

Gambit clenched his fists. "Not until I get you two out of here."

Before he could act, a voice rang out from behind him. "Can't let you do that, Gambit."

Gambit turned to see Taskmaster standing in the doorway, his mask gleaming under the dim light. The mercenary's sword was drawn, and his stance was poised for a fight.

Gambit's jaw tightened. He'd already lost to Taskmaster once. But not again.

The two of them clashed with a flurry of motion. Gambit swung his staff, but Taskmaster blocked it with ease, countering with a quick strike that nearly sliced through Gambit's armor. Gambit barely dodged, his heart racing. Taskmaster was faster than before, every move calculated and precise.

No matter how hard Gambit fought, Taskmaster was always one step ahead, mimicking his every move. A punch here, a kick there—nothing worked. Gambit was getting desperate, his body growing tired. Taskmaster was relentless, driving him back with every attack.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Gambit saw Jaime. The boy picked up a rock from the ground and hurled it at Taskmaster. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The rock hit Taskmaster's helmet, causing him to stumble, just for a split second.

It was all the opening Gambit needed.

With a burst of energy, Gambit kicked Taskmaster back, sending him reeling under a metal railing. Without hesitation, Gambit charged two cards and hurled them at the supports. The explosion ripped through the metal, causing the railing to collapse on top of Taskmaster, pinning him to the ground.

Gambit stood there for a moment, breathing hard, his heart still racing. Taskmaster wasn't moving.

"Call the police," Gambit said to Rocio, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "I'm going to end this."

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, ready to face Tombstone.