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Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel comics, and have been used without the permission of the rights holders for non-profit entertainment purposes only. The lyrics are to the song "Bad Moon Rising," by Creedence Clearwater Revival, and are reproduced without permission for the same purposes.

Bad Moon Rising

Mac O'Roni

I see a bad moon risin’.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.

Don’t go ‘round tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.

     Hot damn, the kid was everything he’d thought he’d be and more. Noisy as a tom cat in a back alley at two a.m., wilder than a mustang, and he knew more tricks than a first-class magician. Logan lay back, human and animal natures completely satiated for once, while the angry jungle cat he’d bedded snarled and wrestled with him down below. Jesus, he’d never been fucked like this before.
     The kid finally came up for air and Logan pulled him down on top of him, held him so he couldn’t do those amazing things anymore—not that he particularly wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t take much more, he was at the end of his considerable endurance. “Christ, kid—where’d you learn to do all that?”
     Remy snorted derisively. “Cher, Gambit be’n ‘roun’ d’block more times dan d’res’ of dese alabaste’ saints ‘roun’ here be’n on d’street.”
     His tone was bitter. Logan couldn’t blame him for that—there were no innocents among the X-Men, not really. They all had things in their pasts that they were ashamed of, of varying severity. Some of them had done things just as bad or worse than what they knew of the thief’s hard past. But guilty consciences liked to have someone to feel morally superior to, and Gambit was the perfect scapegoat—unrepentant for a multitude of sins, and suffering perennial, masochistic guilt for sins he really didn’t have a lot of hand in.
     Logan rubbed soothing circles on the young man’s bare shoulders. “Remind me to tip the cabbie,” he said. Gambit snorted appreciatively.

I hear hurricanes a-blowin’.
I know the end is comin’ soon.
I fear rivers overflowin’.
I hear the voice of rage an’ ruin.

Well, don’t go ‘round tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.
All right.

     X-Men—report to the Blackbird immediately. We have an emergency.
     Professor Xavier’s telepathic voice put an instant damper on the occasion. “Grr,” Logan growled. “Probably just another damn Friends of Humanity rally.”
     “At dis time a’night?” Gambit said, skeptically. “Nah, I don’ t’ink so, cher.”
     He was already getting out of bed—unusually eager, for him. Logan wondered what was up. Still, he wasn’t going to let a good thing go this easily. He grabbed him and pulled him back down.
     “Cher, we gotta get dressed,” Remy said, with surprising patience.
     “Let ‘em go without us,” Logan said. “I’m too damn tired.”
     In truth, he wasn’t tired at all anymore. He was nervous—scared, even. He just wanted to grab tight hold of the Cajun and never let go. Not tonight, not ever. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, but he trusted his gut instincts. He did not want the kid going anywhere near whatever fracas the Prof had planned for them tonight.
     “Chuckles call f’all of us, cher,” Gambit said. “Dat mean he need all of us. Now come on, we got t’hurry.”
     Slippery little bugger wiggled his way out of Logan’s grip like a snake, and Wolverine realized the kid could have gotten away from him at any point that night if he’d wanted to. He got up, reluctantly, and pulled on his own uniform. If he couldn’t make the kid stay back, at least he could go with him and make sure nothing happened to him.

Hope you have got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.

Well, don’t go ‘round tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.

     “Gambit, take him out!” Cyclops yelled. Obligingly, the Acadian charged a handful of cards and flung them at the unidentified mutant.
     Without even stopping to consider the situation, the unknown monstrosity of untamed mutant genetics grabbed the cards out of the air and sent them flying back, each now carrying a double-charge from the mutant’s power of amplification. There was no time even for Gambit to react. The explosion was intense, and the young man’s horrible, abbreviated cry of pain and terminal surprise was far worse.
     “No! Remy!” Logan shouted, springing in to claw vengefully at the mutant monster’s huge, bland face, ripping it to shreds. Apparently, whatever other powers this creature had possessed, a good solid healing factor wasn’t one of them. It fell to the pavement with a crashing thud.
     Wolverine tried to come to Remy’s side, but Beast had already taken charge and wouldn’t let him near. He was wild with fear, nearly feral, and it took Cyclops, Rogue, and Bishop to keep him from attacking the doctor.
     “Get him on the jet—stat! We’ve got to get him to the MedLab pronto or we’re gonna lose him,” McCoy shouted, and Jean and Storm helped him load their injured comrade onto a stretcher and into the Blackbird. They took off without waiting for the others to load up.

Don’t go ‘round tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.