Name: Remy LeBeau<br/>Alias: Gambit<br/>Location: Random bar in NYC<br/>Tags: Open, for now<br/><hr/><br/>The last few weeks hadn't been good. Ever since his narrow escape from the entity now known as Apocalypse, he had been hitting the bottle hard. He had lost several good firends in the innital attack, several close commrads. Not only that, but he had been able to do nothing to stop it. The worst sting was that Psylocke, one of his best friends, had sacrifices herself to save him. That he couldn't save her, heal his wounded pride and honor, that hurt more than anything that beast could have ever done to him. He looked up to the TV in the bar. He heard the familiar voice of one Tony Stark on the TV, making some big announcement. Some big shot he was, sitting somewhere safe while the rest of them fought out there on the ground. "Another round cher." He spoke with a thick accent to the bartender, setting the empty bottle down.<br/><br/>Behind him there were a few people, muttering something about mutates or some such crap. It never changed. Even in this wasteland, humans still feared him. While he waited for his drink, he reached into his coat. Pulling out what looked like a normal deck of cards, he turned to the people behind him. "Now whatca ya'll doing in a place like this, spoutin off somethin about me like that?" Despite the pain, he still wore that typical Cajun smile, and his red eyes looked around. Three of them, he had faced worse odds if things got ugly. And in this situation, it was bound to get ugly.<br/><br/>"why don we play a little game mon amies?" He took a single card out of the deck, quickly charging it, causing it to glow pink with energy. "It's called fifty two pick up. Here's card number one." He threw the card at the table, causing a small explosion and shattering the table. The men ran out of the bar as the barkeep came to check on the noise. "Sorry cher. I guess I don't know when enough is enough. Guess I'll be takin that one for the road."<br/><br/>Gambit grabbed the bottle in front of him and took a swig as he walked out of the bar into the streets of New York. "I suppose if Stark is gathering an army, there's plenty of chances for looting." He grabbed his staff and unfolded it out, resting it upon his shoulders and starting to walk.