Remy LeBeau/Gambit

Full Name:Remy Etienne LeBeau

Nicknames:Gambit, Le Diable Blanc, Cajun, Swamp Rat

Gender:Male

Age:26

Sexual Orientation:Straight

Location:Mainly Gotham, but flits in between cities

Origin:Marvel

Play-By: Taylor Kitsch

Height:6’2”

Hair:Brown

Eyes:Red

Typical Clothing/Uniform:Generally Gambit favours purple dress shirts, purple vest, and black dress pants. In colder weather, he wears a black leather jacket. Often he wears a black trilby hat. As for when he’s working, Gambit dawns a tighter attire better for maneuvering sensors – black fabric both flexible and fitting, with silver platting on the shins similar to grieves, as well as on his forearms. He wears gloves which cover only his ring and middle finger, and a belt to hold his staff and other materials useful when stealing highly valuable objects. When stealing, he wears a well-worn brown leather trench coat – a relic of his days in the Thieves’ Guild.

Powers/AbilitiesGambit has the ability to take the potential energy in an object and turn it into kinetic energy, charging it to explode. Strength of the explosion depends on the mass, so while smaller objects take less time to charge they have less intensity. Beyond that, Remy has enhanced agility and dexterity, the static charge within his body shields his mind from detection by telepaths, and he has the ability charge the energy within another’s mind to result in very faint influence. His abilities make him an excellent fighter – his weapon of choice being a retractable bo staff, and since childhood he’s learned how to be a nearly unparalleled thief.

Team Affiliation:Thieves’ Guild, or whoever pays well.

Personality:Charming (at least he likes to think so), enigmatic, a better man than he likes to admit, Gambit struggles between his enjoyment of living as a self-serving thief and his basic instinct to help the people who he sees as really deserving of it. Gambit is in all things a noble criminal. Not most people's idea of a hero, Gambit watches out for himself while following his own moral code - which of course leaves plenty of room for thieving, womanizing, and general lawlessness.

Family At this time Gambit isn't sure who is parents are, but he was raised by a few members of the thieves guild and later Jean-Luc LeBeau, who he considers to be his father.

Marital status:Single

Sample Post: It felt good – deliciously good – to be back. The tight clothes which might have made a lesser man self-conscious were as much a comfort to Gambit as well made jambalaya. He made his way through the mansion, weaving deftly through the sensors at the appointed times, pausing to lean against walls while waiting for the cameras to turn a blind eye. He’d scoped out the place weeks ago, when the old crone living there had thrown a charity galla – an excuse to flaunt the collection of priceless relics of South America, artifacts dated throughout the five hundred years either side of the B.C.E. line. Priceless, well-guarded, and so wonderfully simple to take. Gambit moved up to the grand doors to the display room – tackily gold, with false hieroglyphics. He quirked an eyebrow, murmuring, “Mon dieu… Das jus disrespectful,” as he lay a hand on the security lock. The frame and lines of the box shimmered purple, and then with a crackling fitz and a poof of smoke the system gave a final sigh and the door popped open. “Open says-ami.” Gambit chuckled, sliding through the opening – holding his coat to insure he didn't brush up against anything. The room was utterly silent, moonlight pooling in front the skylight that would be his exit. There were rows upon rows of cases, but his only interest was in the very center case. Perched upon a clear stand, the moonlight moving through the faceted surface cast the surroundings in a red glow. Remy whistled low as he stopped a few paces away, examining the red beauty. This one the elderly lady had borrowed for her exhibit – to encourage funding, or so the numerous papers telling the story of the Moussaieff Red Diamond proclaimed. There were so many things guarding the diamond, all of the New York underworld was abuzz with what a shame it was that no one could grab it. A fitting introduction to the town, non? He wanted to be known. So what did a little show hurt? Gambit’s finger sparked on the end with purple energy, and moving forward he grinned as alarms began to wail. He leaned in, and on the glass began to draw. He looked up as large men in uniform came busting in a side door. My, faster than anticipated. He winked, removed his hand from the glittering purple smiling face, then turned and shielded his face as the case exploded, sending bits of bullet proof glass every which way. By the time the smoke cleared there was glass raining down, and after that only the shrieking alarm. But left on the stand, a single card waited for the security; an ace of spades.