It's supposed to be the city of brotherly love. Emphasis on supposed. Because it really isn't.

But then again, you can't blame the native Philadelphians. It's not like it's their fault and their fault alone that the motto no longer fits. That motto, no matter where applied, would not fit anymore. Why?

Mutants, of course!

Homo sapien superior, the next step in human evolution. People born with powers and abilities that set them apart from normal man. Some consider those powers a gift; others, a curse. It really depends on the person's power. Think about it, if you've got three noses and can't help but smell people's BO, would that be a gift? Heck no. On the other hand, if you could fly, or control the weather so the sun's always shining when you want it to, would that be a curse? Hardly.

Like I said, it all depends on your power. But we're off topic.

Normal people, more than often, hate and fear what is different from them. What they don't understand. Mutants are the epitome of that. And since the mutant population has been steadily rising since the 1950s, a lot of people are frightened or hateful.

So, getting to the point: because of mutants, brotherly love no longer exists in the city of Philadelphia.

The man in the driver's seat was Remy LeBeau. He was a mutant, and a thief, on the run from a man named Mister Sinister. He was also in a race against time to get home to New Orleans and stop the fighting between two warring guilds, Thieves and Assassins. His power allowed him to charge objects with explosive amounts of kinetic energy.

Riding bitch (that's the middle seat) was Julio Esteban Richter, but Rictor to all his friends. His power created vibro-shocks that caused earthquakes.

Next to him, riding shotgun, was Everett Thomas. His powers could get in synch with anyone else's, letting him use their powers as his own.

In the back of the truck was Jubilation Lee, or Jubilee. She could create fireworks and shoot them from her hands.

Next to her was Adam Berman. His skin transformed into that of a reptile, giving him extra strength, endurance, and limited body-armor, as well as speed.

Kitty Pryde was beside him. She could become intangible at will.

The last cast member was Frances Kane. She had limited control over the earth's magnetic field, allowing her a wide array of powers and abilities.

The kids were brought together by Professor Charles Francis Xavier to join his school for Gifted Youngsters, where they could learn to both understand and control their powers. Unfortunately, shortly after they arrived at the school, the Professor and his teachers, the other mutants at the school, were killed. And the school itself was destroyed, leaving them completely alone.

They probably would have been killed, too, if not for the intervention of Gambit. He saved them from Sabretooth, one of Sinister's cold blooded killers. But because they helped in the fight, and because Sabretooth was still alive and after them, Gambit reluctantly took them under his wing.

"So . . . do we get a pit stop here?" Rictor asked.

"We better!" Jubilee yelled.

"D'lady bellowed," Remy shrugged. "Best not t'mess wit' de frails, eh, mon ami?"

"I resent that frail comment," Frances frowned.

"You would," Remy replied.

"Guys, cool it," Everett said. "All you three seem to do is bicker."

"Not our fault LeBeau's a moron," Jubilee frowned.

"Did I have t'take you wit' me?" Remy asked. "No. But did I anyway? Yes. Why? Because you asked me. Am I regrettin' it? You bet."

"What kinda pep talk is that?" Frances asked.

"Y'know, I'm gettin' reeeeal tired o' dis," Remy said, turning to face her. "If dis keeps up I'll - "

"Look out!" Everett yelled. He grabbed the wheel, turning the car hard to the right.

"Crap!" Gambit yelled, resuming control of the car.

"You almost killed that guy!" Kitty exclaimed.

"But I didn't," Remy replied. "Now hush up. We'll get a hotel here an' spend d'night."

"Whatever," Jubilee shrugged.

It is in a secret, underground chamber that we find our antagonist of the series.

His name was long ago cast away. He forever remained Mister Sinister.

Born in the late seventeenth century, this man traded in his very soul to become an immortal being. A twisted scientist, he devoted his life to the study of the emerging existence of mutants. In his lab he had traced the entire genetic structure of the human race. There was not one mutant in existence that he didn't know about.

The name Sinister is an understatement to the evil which this . . . 'man' . . . is capable of.

"You failed," he said absently, knowing one of his assassins stood behind him.

"Yes," Scalphunter frowned.

"Did you learn anything?"

"Only enough to confirm Creed's suspicions. The Cajun's got a gang of little mutie kids with him. He's still heading for New Orleans. And whatever it is he stole from you that's in that vial, he's keeping it close to him."

Sinister nodded. "Tell Creed to continue his pursuit. Only engage if a decent opportunity presents itself."

" . . . Why?" Scalphunter asked. "You don't want Creed to kill the Cajun?"

"Oh, I do," Sinister turned around, his grin showing. His skin was pale white, his eyes red. A red diamond was on his forehead. "But I'd prefer much more to let him get to New Orleans . . . let himself actually believe he has a chance of succeeding . . . and then snatch his victory from him!"

"Quite evil," Scalphunter said.

"Indeed," Sinister frowned. "That thief doesn't understand what's in the vial he stole. It's not even what I promised him. It's something far, far more important than that."

"What?"

"You needn't know the answer." Sinister raised an arm and fired an energy blast at Scalphunter, incinerating him. "Thank goodness for clones. I go through too many incompetent workers."

The group retired their things to a Motel 6, getting three rooms. One for the three boys, one for the three girls, and one for Gambit himself.

"Why are you getting your own room?" Kitty asked.

"I may need a visitor," Gambit replied.

"Visitor?"

"Of th' female kind."

" . . . "

"Catch on yet?"

" . . . oh! Oh, I get it. Umm . . . eww."

"Gee, tanks," Remy rolled his eyes. "Listen, why don't you kids head over to that little grease-pit of a diner we spotted up a few blocks. I'll meet up wit' ya soon."

Kitty nodded, then walked away.

Dat one is gonna turn out to be a fine young lady. He then paused in his thoughts. I jus' realized . . . I'm a dirty ol' pervert. Heh.

Remy walked in the opposite direction of the kids, heading to a small bar.

Best place for info in town. And me? I needs some info.

He stepped inside quietly. Instantly, eyes of the people inside found their way to him. He ignored the stares, though was prepared for anything. He stepped up to the bar and leaned over, asking the older bartender a question.

"I'm lookin' for someone."

"I'd say you've found a whole room o' someones."

"Dat may be true. But I'm lookin' for someone perticular. Philly's own little know-it-all. Guido."

Everyone in the bar stiffened or stood, looking at Remy.

He turned around slowly. "Well, dat's a problem. None o' you look like him."

They were all standing now, looking at him angrily.

"Okay den . . . I need to speak to Guido. D'Strong Guy. Either show me where he is . . . or I'll have to beat th'info out of each an' every one o' you."

No answer.

"Alright," Remy shrugged. He slipped a trio of cards into his left hand down his sleeve, instantly charging them with kinetic energy. He then extended his bo-staff into his right hand. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

"I wonder what's taking him so long," Adam asked, taking another bite of his burger.

"He's probably shopping around some hookers," Jubilee shrugged.

"Well now . . . was dat really worth it?"

Remy LeBeau was the only man still standing and conscious in the bar.

"Don't tell me . . . now I gotta wait for one o'ya to wake up 'fore I find dis Gweedo?"

"I'm Guido," a voice said. A very, very large man entered the bar from the back room.

"Remy LeBeau," Gambit said.

"Your work?" Guido asked, looking about.

"Yup."

"Not bad."

"T'anks."

"Whattaya want?"

"Info on Sinister," Gambit said. "He movin' here? He movin' anywhere?"

"He's movin' everywhere," Guido said. "Anywhere he wants to be. I'm stayin' clear of him . . . he'll stay clear of me."

"He put a hit out on me?" Gambit asked.

"Nope."

"Den why'd dey all attack me?"

Guido shrugged. "They're just a little over-protective of me, I guess. They're a buncha lovable guys, really."

" . . . Okay den. Dats all I really wanted to know . . . 'bout Sinister's activities in da here an' now."

"Pleasure t'do business with you."

"Ya. Buhbye."

"What took you so long?" Rictor asked.

"Hookers?" Jubilee added.

"Nah," Gambit shrugged, taking a seat and stealing some of Jubilee's french fries.

"You look a little hot and sweaty," Kitty frowned.

"Just squeezin' some info from someone," Gambit shrugged. "Jus' makin' sure whether or not we'd be able to sleep soundly tonight."

"And?" Everett asked.

"Never can sleep too soundly, neh?"

"So what's on the menu for tomorrow?" Rictor asked.

"We'll keep movin' on. I t'ink Baltimore'd be a good place for our next stop. It'll take a while, but it'll be more distance. We can't afford to sit around in one place f'r too long."

"Right," Jubilee said. "Need fresh hookers."

"Hush, petite," Remy said, stealing a few more fries.

"Hey!" Jubilee frowned.

"What do you expect?" he asked. "I am a t'ief . . . "

Remy LeBeau was asleep and dreaming. And in his dreams . . .

. . . Was a young, blond-haired woman.

"Hey, you're fully clothed," Remy frowned. "Dis ain't one o' my normal dreams."

"This isn't a dream, exactly," the woman said. "My name's Birdie."

"Nice name."

"I'm a telepath."

"Uh-huh."

"I carry a warning. Sinister isn't gonna give up. Creed will hunt you down no matter where you go."

"And since you be a teep, you know where I'm going, neh?"

"All I can really get from your head are parts of the female body and what you'd do with them."

"Interested?"

"Hardly."

"Lying's no good."

"Shut up. The point is, is that you're living on borrowed time. And you really, really don't understand what's in that vial. It's not what you think it is."

"Dat's nice."

"You don't want to use it."

"Uh-huh. Like I'd fall for dat trick. Listen . . . get outta my head and let me dream of beautiful women already."

"You've been warned, LeBeau. You've been warned . . . "

"Now I'll never get back t'sleep," he sighed. He reached over to his shirt beside the bed and pulled the small, black vial from his pocket. "Not what I t'ink it is, eh? Guess I'll find out what it is once I get to N'awlins. So long as it helps me do what I gotta do . . . I don't care what it is."