amichan | Entries tagged with ruse au

"Remy, it's okay." Cole says, "I really don't care if your last name isn't what you said. At this point I'm just glad you're alive. Save whatever else. I can barely hear you."
He is having to shout over the chopper blades. I make out him telling me to rest. It is probably a good idea. He will care though. Despite what he says. The Thieves Guild is an unproven legend. I don't have to tell him about that, but they're taking me to hospital. I was in one when I younger, after Etienne, he's not stupid, at the very least, he'll work out the Roxxon industrial espionage was really me.

$$$$$

Cole looks almost like stone when I look over at him, trying not to suffocate on the alien item in my nose. He then almost falls over jumping out of the chair, muttering about pins and needles before he shouts towards the door and then shouts back at me to leave things alone. My mouth feels like a nest of ants and my skin not much better, but as I try and move, stiffness and agony reminds me that I went twenty rounds with the brick semi truck that is Graydon "Sabretooth" Asshat Creed. I lower myself back, awkwardly, not able to find any sort of relatively pain free way to do so.

"Take it easy," he says, coming back to by the bed.

The door opens and a nurse type comes in. Hushing me but thankfully taking the thing out of my nose, which turns out to be some stupid plastic tubes.

"I realize dat now," I retort, "Ever't'ing hurt."

"No shit," he replies, "You survived fighting a freight train."

The nurse looks at him quizzically, "It looked more like a wild beast. Those lacerations--"

"Dat too."

Her face when she turns back to me is full of pity. I don't like it at all. Have I lost a limb or something? I stretch my legs experimentally. Unless I'm hallucinating both of those are still there, and one is slightly less painful than the other." I was basically hobbling the last part of the trip, and stupid Creed crushed my one arm cause he didn't want me charging his head again. I can see my hands. I didn't lose the arm though. That's very good. My face hurts quite a bit. I recall he bashed my head against his fist, and I think the wall, quite painfully.

"Have I lost an eye or som't'in'?"

"No," she says, "your skull wa-is a bit cracked, but your eye's intact by some miracle. I--the--one of our doctor's is going to want to come in and tell you the--I shouldn't."

"Cherie, please, if somet'in' is goin' on. I'd rather know now." My pleasantries, apparently, aren't quite up to snuff right now, but then I am a mess of bruises and bandages, and who knows how much of my insides she's seen. She shakes her head, offers to get me something to eat and a drink, and disappears after checking my temperature and various other things like pulse and such.

"You know anyt'ing?" I ask Cole.

"It's not like I'm your next of kin," he points out, "I'm not even an emergency contact."

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Is Jean-Luc LeBeau actually going to show up at this place? Is he even on anything papers wise? I was 14 the last time something -- well, no 16, and that last one was barely a scratch by comparison and it practically happened on the front lawn and was treated at the house by some visiting medic. And 14 I, well, myself and Etienne's ... body, were found out at sea, still it was off the Louisiana coast and brought to a hospital there. This is New York. Are we still in New York? I voice that out loud.

"Not the city," he says, "So far upstate we're practically in Vermont," then a weird grin crosses his face, "or Canada, but I didn't think you had your passport on you."

God, not Canada again.

"You've been to Canada before?"

"Year or so ago now."

"You lead a much more exciting life than me."

I snort. It makes things twinge in places that are very aggravated with me, "I dunno. You a cop in New York."

"You've sent me pictures from Barbados or somewhere. You seem to trip and land on your feet. Fired from Roxxon and get work in the tropics."

Oh, right. That was my story. The usual half truths. Lapin's right. This guy is making me stupid and sappy. It's dangerous.

"Is that look about the last name thing? I told you I don't care. If I was a mutant I might lie about my last name too. I know it can be hard for you guys. I help out. That's how I know the guys that helped--that got the chopper. My ex military friends. I was part of a unit of "normies" that was supposed to watch the "mutant freak" unit. Me and several of the other more sane humans helped the mutants get rid of the actual freaks who wanted to abuse the mutants for existing. I knew those guys would be willing to help get you out of there to safety rather than the regular hospital where who knows what would happen."

"Oh, good for you, chere. You not a mutant hater." I know how bitter it sounds, "You better dan de 40 per cent dat do, and the 30 per cent dat jus' don' care one way or de odder."

"I didn't say it to get praise." He says, curtly, "I said it because I was trying to prove a point. That I'm not going to turn on you because your eyes are actually a different color and you might have some sort of abilities that others don't."

I stop myself from snorting again. I settle for a "tss" noise.

"You're trying to push me away, aren't you? There's something else you think is worse. You forget I was listening in to a lot of that conversation while you were in the tunnels, you know. That guy Creed and the others they called you several different names, LeBeau, Roux."

"Tsch. You t'ink I would nickname myself after flour-oil sauce? But LeBeau dat is my proper last name. LaCoeur was my brudder idea of a joke, because it mean "the heart." it bad enough our last name mean handsome anyways. I half time t'ink Pa change it 'cause he full of ego."

"LeBeau," he muses, "So what was not Roux."

I hedge for a moment, "Ruse."

"Ruse?"

"Pssh, those guys call themselves Black Feather and Sabretooth. You think I was going to give them my real name? How the fuck Creed got it I do not know. Throwing it around all over the place..."

"That's when you started name dropping him I noticed." Cole points out.

"Two can play dat game." I try to sit up again. It doesn't work well with one hand. I have to accept his help, which is frustrating and nice at the same time. Emotions are also frustrating and more than a little confusing.

"Do you want me to call your family?" he says, knocking me almost as hard as Creed has. He adjusts the pillows behind me, "I said the wrong thing."

"I haven't seen them in a long time."

"You talk about your brother a lot."

"Lapin is amie-frere, friend who is brother. We phone, FaceTime. He is in Louisiana still, but helps me get work."

I see Lapin has edited the phone records a little when things forward to my cell.

Cole’s number is saved as Lawman Problem.

The download isn’t just the most recent questions it has the one before it where he randomly messaged to see how I was doing, what I was doing, since I left Roxxon, given any Remy LeCoeur or LaCour(s) he could find on Facebook were men or “definitely not me”. I told him I’d deleted my account after I left because I didn’t want anyone from there to find me given I left in disgrace as a “mutant freak”-- and completely not that I accidentally-on-purpose outed myself to be fired while someone who’d Lapin found was siphoning money into secret bank accounts took the fall for that and taking the files I’d been hired to acquire, and Lapin deleted all record of me, as, Remy LeCoeur as quickly as he’d made all twenty eight years worth of it exist in the first place. Well, maybe just a little bit faster.
But the conversation led to me sending a picture of me with sand and surf behind and implying the greener pastures I was in down where it was sunny and warm. Which, again, not entirely untrue. An offer for a paycheck that involved a trip to the Caribbean to complete—not one to turn down, especially when Essex’s next request was bound to come soon enough given the Canadian Fiasco that was in between.

I left city sort of quickly, family issues are always a good excuse, especially on top of having just been fired. I figured ripping off the bandaid quickly would be the best way, given my history of not relationships. When he got back in touch I thought maybe keeping the law-type contact would be a good idea, and maybe it will with everything going on. Maybe it’ll just be horribly awkward. I’ve run into previous ‘conquests’ a few times and it’s pretty much 50/50 “Oh, hey that was fun,” vs “You bitch! What the hell?!” not going to look at the variances along gender lines and preferences. I’m equal opportunity all round the board, so that’s entirely too many odds for this early in the morning and no sleep. I can just imagine a Vegas bookie looking at that spread; but the fact that he got in touch in the mean time and we talked if, however brief, is a good sign. What did he actually say now?

11:34

Lawman Problem: Hey weird i know but I think I saw u back in town?

Lawman Problem: I know its been a while but maybe u want to meet for coffee

Lawman Problem: or lunch?

Lawman Problem: If u are

Lawman Problem: here i mean

11:52

Lawman Problem: don’t mean to come off as nuts probably do anyway

Lawman Problem: ignore me!

Where was I at around noon?

Probably stalking down the street somewhere, pissed off, after leaving Essex’s place and finding out we’re all supposed to meet back there tomorrow. No wonder I didn’t see him. It is...just after one in the morning. What the hell.

01:16

Me: I am here is Remy. Had switched numbers with my brother. He let me know just now youd msg.

Me: Been a bit preoccupied. Catch up would be fun. Coffee and or lunch whichever. Where?

I’m not surprised there’s no response. It’s early/late. I should try and get some sort of rest. I add his number to the short list that is Lapin as people who can call or message through even though the phone is on silent and lay down.

I’m leaning on the balcony of the rented room, smoking out at the street. Music on, trying to chill, but failing miserably. The shower didn’t help either. I couldn’t even get off.

I’m spinning my next cigarette around in my hand when I recognize the need for distraction but I’m not in a good enough mood to go anywhere so I call the one person I know might at least understand some of it: Lapin.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking out at me from the miniature screen in my hand.

“Not my mood,” I reply.

“I see dat,” he counters, adjusting his position. I must be on his computer screen as opposed to his phone given the angle.

“You not worried someone see you talkin’ to da traitor?”

“People don’t come to me. I go to dem,” he points out, “And you ain’t traitor, Rem. It was...unfortunate.”

I snort, and take a drag on the cigarette I lit before calling him. I hear him tut, and pull a face at him blowing the smoke in the direction of the phone camera.

“Mutant ‘freak’ or no pretty sure doze still kill,” he retorts.

“I prob’ly get taken out by somet’in’ else before den.”

“Fatalism isn’ you, Rem,” he answers. I hear him shifting in his seat but don’t see given I’m glaring out at the hotel across the street, “’sides you got nine lives. Well, maybe you got eight left or seven…” I turn my head to look at him as he keeps reducing my life expectancy, eyebrow arched.

“You big help, you. Really cheer a girl up.”

“Didn’ know I was suppose to,” he shakes his head, “T’ought maybe we was plannin’ or somet’in.”

He has a point. If stuff is going to go South like I fear is best to plan escape strategy or twelve. Essex helped me, sure, but this...the folks he has had me finding. Something ain’t right. And now we all meeting tomorrow finish things out.

“Rem?” he asks.

“I’m still here,” I point out.

“Sure,” he says, “By da by...”

“Oui?”

“Your Cole cop friend—he been tryin’ get in touch wid you again. Callin’ da old number you had.”

“I had lots of doze, and you know dat,” I tell him.

“Well, you know. Six mont ago when you be talkin’ ‘bout beach livin’, dat one.”

I shake my head, dragging the cig down to the filter with one last breath, and then charging it and flicking it into the air where it poofs in a sad little explosion, like a bottle rocket that misfire. Maybe I can have future in trash collecting. Don’t need a dump when you got Ruse. Call me Queen of Trash.

But Cole—man, that’s a kettle…but...

“What you so quiet for?” Lapin cuts in.

“I know you tease ‘bout him but could be helpful right now.”

“My teasing?” He’s only half serious.

“No, Cole.”

“Havin’ a roll wid him would improve you mood.”

I roll my eyes, “Not in da mood for dat.”

He fakes a heart attack and flops his head down on his desk.

“Pssh,” I tell him, “Dis whole t’ing be fucked up. Dat ruin sexy time for anyone.”

“You mooned over him,” Lapin says as he sits up in his chair again, rubbing at his face. He might actually have hurt himself in his theatrics.

“I did not,” I tell him, “Dat whole t’ing was just...” I can’t voice the proper explanation and wind up just waving my hand in a circle, “...complicated,” is all I can come up with.

“Complicated?” he sounds, disbelieving and like I’m going to get some sort of lecture at the same time. There’s that tutting again, “I s’pose you right dere, but you mooned, dat be dangerous.”

“You da one who bought him up,” I point out, “You dat scared you shoulda said not’ing. You t’ink can be useful too, n’est-ce-pas?”

He blows air through his teeth, “Chancey,” is all he says and it takes him a while.

“Forward him to dis phone,” I shake it.

Lapin pulls a face, but I see him get another phone out of a drawer and put some cables into it, “Not my fault if dis go to shit,” he says.

I snort at him again, “How much worse it can get?”

“You should know better dan to say t’ings like dat,” he says, “If I was to bet--”

“You dun bet,” I tell him, “Leave dat to me.”

“Well, then, take this logistic guy advice, don’t bet da house, and keep dat poker face.”

I roll my eyes at him, “I t’ink I know how to gamble by now.”

“But what you willing to lose?” he says, before he hangs up.

Overview from past few days worth of dreams, plus other parts of back story. Some names placeholders given they showed up as other people (mostly from NCIS -- I blame Mum. I do not think the universes crossover or know if NCIS is even "a thing".)

Essex has Remy find some guys for him. This is payment from Remy for a procedure Essex did to calm down her abilities (how Remy found Essex for this I have no effing clue at the moment). It's secondary payment given the first one he wanted her to retrieve some files for him from a facility in Canada, but reading the files Remy was like NOPE this does not need to leave here and destroyed them, using the excuse that the place was on fire (thanks to Wolverine escaping which she didn't know) to say that she wasn't able to get to them in time and wasn't going to die in a fire over this.

Essex has told her that he wants to get in touch with the Morlocks in the tunnels/sewers/broken tube stations in the area who Remy sometimes trades information for food and supplies they can't get because danger of being killed (as they are super obvious mutants that can't pass for normal). His explanation is that he can potentially help them the way he helped Remy and give them some semblance of a normal life. She finds three guys for him. In the comics these are the mutants: Prism (Robbie), Blockbuster (Michael Baer) and Harpoon, however the info I have from memory/dream says "Jim" "Steel" and "Black Feather". Harpoon is Inuit but his name is not Black Feather it's Kodiak Noatak, but then again, they all know her as Ruse until ST shows up. The group meet at the appointed time when Essex springs Sabretooth on her which causes issues.

Prior to this she'd met for lunch with "McGee" who is some sort of cop/agent that Lapin her friend/cousin "brother - as in close as not as in some weird incestuous brother/cousin situation", who is the only NOLA person she's still in touch with after banishment has teased her about and voiced concern about since she met him a year or so before while doing a corporate espionage thing and had "a thing" with, one of her longer lasting relationships given it went on for several months, and they've been in touch here and there since. ANYWAY, she meets him for lunch given he saw her at some point being in town, and she's antsy because of job to do. He notes that she's "smoking not joking" so "something is wrong" but she can't won't explain what it is, leery that someone will find out given she doesn't know everyone's abilities (the three she's found) and she's become more leery of Essex overall. Wondering if it's vague precognition (Gambit in comics is psychic when blinded, plus she's potentially got Cyclops/Phoenix DNA in her -- background is just like WTF and probably why Essex so interested given he maybe had a role in her existing??) ANYWAY, again, she leaves the lunch early because she just can't, and "McGee" is just ???? what did I do?

She has Lapin set up a signal between her jacket (which has a bluetooth mic of sorts Lapin installed) and "McGee's" phone. The jacket can send out audio but she can only hear responses if she has an actual earbud thing in, and it's something she and Lapin set up for security shit and him monitoring her during certain jobs. Lapin is just kinda "okay your funeral if this screws things up in whatever way" and she's just "haha not funny, fuck you", "You're the one with the hots for law enforcement who doesn't know what you really do for a living" "Again fuck you."

When she gets to the Essex place he produces Sabretooth/Creed and she's just "Aww hell naww" and she and Creed verbally spar back and forth about history, up until this point she'd thought he was dead because of what happened with him, her, Genvieve (who died) and her "actual (considering adopted) " brother Henri after The Paris Job about the "treacherous star" necklace (oh, how apt). ST makes comments about "her girl" given what he did to Gen, and she pokes back about his head growing back (she blew off half of it before Henri could stop her and drag her off away from Gen and evidence). She jabs at Essex about why do they need HIM in particular given this is supposed to be an olive branch offering sortis and the other guys are kinda muscley too. Essex claims it's because he's helped ST a similar way that he's helped her and the others are "just in case". She grumbles but agrees so long as, "No matter what happen, we square after," which he consents to.

The group go underground, Remy using cards to light the way and look for symbols and signs for where the Morlocks currently are given their camp moves around occasionally. Unfortunately "Brady" a Morlock teen (fucking 13/14 years old) runs out upon "recognizing her light" and is promptly offed by ST. Remy flips out, "This is not what we're supposed to be here for!" "It might not be what you're here for, but this is what we're supposed to be doing," one of the others says. She blasts at Sabretooth and one of the others hits her in the left shoulder with some sort of bladed weapon which she charges and throws back "missing" and therefore blocking the tunnel that Brady ran out of with rubble.

Creed attacks her, at some point during the fight he gives her left arm a compound fracture to stop her being able to throw things and is choking her against the wall holding her other arm over her jacket sleeve to stop her from using cards or anything because as far as he knows she can only charge things with her hands. She uses kicking against him to get off a shoe and sock so her foot is free to charge things, and starts charging the ground focusing on spreading it across the tunnel to the walls and things, with delay to block them in. The others are on Creed to drop her and leave her given he's cut into her gut in trying to get her to talk (through reinforced/armor clothing because fuck him). She'll bleed out surely they can track the "damned freaks" down some other way, and just get the fuck on Creed she's not worth it. She makes implications that she's charged his crotch with her foot and "will dat grow back like your fugly mug?" he throws her, because JUNK COULD EXPLODE and ouch wall hitting sucks but not being held any more. Junk doesn't explode because that's not what she charged and he's going to come after again when he starts getting shot "McGee" to the rescue?-ish.

Bullets are like bug bites to ST which Remy knows and given he's about to go after "McGee" instead she slams the ground to set off the charge that was on delay and so it goes off earlier and the ST gets buried in the "cave in" that hems everyone else in with him.

"McGee" tries to help her up but holy fuck ow broken arm. "I don't know how to help you up and not hurt you" "It's going to hurt whatever so just let me do it." Can't walk right one leg messed up too (not sure when), and using "McGee's" jacket to cover gut wound he helps her back out as the "cavalry" run down to deal with things. Remy is semi-rambling about Creed and the dangers of him and hoping the gun-toting guys have enough fire power to deal with him because he won't stay out long. "McGee" says once they heard names on the "mic" they looked him up and they know he's ex-Canadian special forces and the shit he can do, so let's just get you to paramedics to patch you up...a lot. Remy leery of hospitals etc because mutant. It's "our people" (so wondering if he really is some sort of military linked or something because wind up in Norfolk, and "McGee" in show is Naval Police).

Calliope and Toad show up as they're leaving and Remy pleads with them to get out of here because they assure her that the rest of the Morlocks have fled to some other area, and she's just "why aren't you WITH THEM?" After Calliope psychically hugs her and says it's okay, Remy gets Toad to drag her off and clear out of there. "McGee" is just HOLY SHIT HOW MANY KIDS ARE DOWN HERE? "Too many."

Paramedics stabilize and air lift. "McGee" a bit green about injuries. They want her to stay awake because concussion risk. "McGee's" boss is also there and sends him with her because "you'll be useless to me". There are some jokes going on and "McGee" points out she's joking -now- but "it's over now, before it was probably bad, and it was both better and worse than I thought but now it's over. I hope." Upset about Brady and not stopping that. "McGee" distracts her asking if Creed was calling her "roux". Dude, wtf don't make me laugh. Roux is a Cajun butter/flour mix, he was calling her Ruse. "WTF why?" "These guys call themselves Black Feather and Sabretooth you think I'm going to give them my real name?" "How much about you have you lied about?? All the talk was like ... this is not some admin at "LaRoche" ...." "Mostly just name, last name -is- LeBeau like Creed said, but he doesn't know first name, just got LeBeau because of what he did with Henri, lots of omission, it's easy to get people to talk about themselves, you know? Then you don't have to make shit up." "Remy LaCoeur not name, Lapin's joke." Paramedic, "Wait...you call your brother (how McGee referred to him) bunny or bread?" Bread is "le pain" bunny is "lapin". "This is probably why he made your name LaCoeur" "No shit". Yes, I'm really from New Orleans, you think I talk this way for shits and giggles" (or chits n giggles, because accent). I guess your brother will tell your parents you're hurt? Remy pulls face.
They're getting slightly detoured because 'stealth plane' in the area but "not one of ours" (so thinking yes to military investigation division of some sort). Lapin friend like brother not actual brother, like Henri and things are complicated with "back home" because can't go back. You said before your "devil eyes" were there since you were a kid so surely they didn't disown you for being a mutant???" More complicated than that. MUCH more, but it's family things and "no more NOLA" "you have I want to call them face." Lapin interjects that if he does call "home" to M'sieur LeBeau, and not not never say cop of any sort. "McGee" just like ????
Remy has been in and out this whole time being woken up because concussion likely. Stealth plane "Blackbird"??? X-Men going to help Morlocks???
Land at hospital. MRI. Surgery.
"McGee" does call family all of them show up via plane while surgery is still going on: M'sieur, Henri his wife Mercy and Lapin.

---

During flight Remy did explain that as was noted during jibes and banter that she "finds people things" "like a broker??" "like a trader...I find them stuff they want and need and they give me currency ... or information." LaRoche was industrial espionage ... pays well. McGee is grumbly about something someone at work told him at some point. Guess some sort of file that could be about Remy and now is very much likely about Remy because "Ruse" alias. No actual pictures though, just red haired, red eyed woman. Never any physical evidence. "Because I'm good at what I do."

---

Imagine there's some what reconciliation with the LeBeau's and Remy but still ... not just their say so that she's banished from NOLA. Also thinking it's after this that Remy meets Jean and John Grey because they would have realized she was there because Psychics. Probably even overheard the fight between her and ST because she was willingly opening herself to yell at the Morlocks who were telepaths that they needed to get the fuck away from where they were or it was going to be Bad, and normally she's futzy to psychics and they can't read her well, or at all depending on power level. Though that might not apply to the Greys because they're UberPsychic. But I know at some point they Welcome Wagoned her and tried to recruit her to join their group.

I forgot how boring flights are. The first leg wasn't so bad. Hopper to Philly short layover. Mercy daring me to get us free drinks at the airport's branch of Wine Bar.

Now we're on the trans-Atlantic haul; playing poker on the seat back video game only goes so far. We both sleep for a little while; then I amuse myself flirting with the cabin crew who have little to do when most everyone is asleep.

“This is why it's hard for me to believe you're taking things seriously,” Mercy says, opening her eyes when I come back with two free alcoholic beverages and a wink from the flight attendant.

“We're not on the clock yet.”

She rolls her eyes at me, from the window seat, “You remember: be professional.”

I give her a sideways look, sipping on the drink, “This was fine not five hours ago.”

She tries to take it from me but I'm too fast—barely spill though—have to work on that, “Now it needs to be out of your system. We had our fun.”

She tries for the drink again. I relent when she glares at me and put the drink down on her tray.

“Now,” she says, “Talk to me about how you plan to pick up the gift.”

I must smirk.

“There's no guarantee he goes your way-- you know what they say about Europeans,” there's at least some humor in that statement.

I shake my head.

“So, your game works on horny school kids and stewards but this is another of our profession. I imagine he knows all about that game. He might even run that himself.” She puts her finger up to stop me talking while she takes a long deliberate swig from the drink that was mine, “not to mention if you do anything, one THING, to jeopardize things between Capulet and Montague then not even your pretty eyes will save your neck.”

“To counter,” I say.

“Go ahead.”

“Just because a guy has been with men, busty chicks, Asian chicks, sheep—doesn't mean I can't get him to come to my side because, please. Also, Belle and I have an understanding. We both have demanding...families and jobs dat require us to do certain t'ings so den it's okay. No emotions—just work. We do what needs to be done and den we go home to each other. It has to be dat way, de way t'ings go with all our...” I wave a hand back and forth. I think she gets the message I mean family bullshit.

Mercy closes her eyes for a moment. There are times her expression is so very much like Henri's, “That is actually very mature,” she concedes, slowly, “If you can keep with that—I mean, you're young, Remy. It's good to have ideals but things...” she sighs, “Okay, we've been at this a lot longer than you and emotions are complicated and just because you have 'an understanding' doesn't give you free rein to just screw around whenever you want to.”

“Do you see me screwing around?” I ask her, “I got offered mile high not to long ago and I didn't.”

“Congratulations,” she says, sarcastically, “Let's give you an award because you didn't sleep with someone.”

“My point,” I tell her, “Is dat I'm not a stupid whore. I can keep t'ings out of my pants.”

“My point,” she continues, “is that this doesn't need to be screwed up because you're screwing around and neither does the pending alliance. The guild peace is very fragile. Very fragile.” She seems to want to say something else but doesn't.

“I know it's fragile. I'm around Julien much more than you, and finish your thought,” I press, “Let's get dis all out.”

“We don't need another Etienne.” she says, pained.

I start to counter on that. How dare she—that wasn't—but she wasn't there. All of that boils down to my word as the only surviving witness. We've kept things quiet and low so far. I don't need to wake everyone around us to our “super secret plans” by going off.

“No witty come back?” she asks, halfheartedly. What she said went too far which she knows; but that was my fault making her explain to me.

“I don't want dat,” I shake my head, “Dat's de last t'ing I would want. I keep hearing all about how I'm not takin' t'ings right; but dis is just my way. I got dis. It's fine. You guys want to test me or do whatever, den dat's fine, let me do it how I do it.”

“Fine.” She says and closes her eyes to go back to sleep.

I walk through downtown, munching on the brioche Belle threw at me, slip down an alley on my way to meet Henri and Mercy. It gives me the opportunity to charge and destroy "The Rising Bun" bakery bag. Power is becoming very handy for evidence obliteration, that's for sure. Don't need to be rolling up with a bag declaring proudly that I was visiting Belle when she was on a task and I was supposed to be—well, not visiting her, that's about that.

Despite my detours I get to the rendezvous early and sit on the back of a bench reviewing the small amount of info I was sent a few hours ago. It's a photo of an ugly—interesting looking blue and gold necklace; but I'm guessing I have to steal it not wear it.

After a few minutes the blue Ford Fusion pulls up and I slip into the back of the car. Mercy is driving and Henri hands me a thick manila envelope—the type that fastens with a button and string. He has a similar one on his lap. I squeeze in next to two flight bags and a clear zippered bag that used to house a comforter that has a couple of different shirts in it.

In the envelope is a passport in the name of Amelie Baudin, 2 traveler's checks amounting to a couple of thousand Francs, plane ticket to Paris, and just over four hundred Francs in bills and coins.

"Please tell me we not pretending to be married." I say, as I go through the clear plastic bag and pick out a shirt to wear.

Henri laughs, "Mais non, petite soeur. You and "Marie" here are going to visit your maiden aunt during spring break from school." He turns abruptly as I lift my shirt over my head and take off my bra to change into the baby doll college t-shirt among the clothes.

"Some spring break." I remark.

Mercy has the car on the road, heading towards the airport, "You and me, sis," she jokes, "Family ambassadors."

The baby doll leaves my mid-riff bare. I keep my boots and jeans on, "Sounds good," I tell her.

"This is for you to do," Henri continues.

"Steal de necklace?"

"Get back de necklace."

"Get ba-?"

"Let me finish."

I put my hands up in supplication then start going through the luggage that has Amelie's name on the destination tag.

"Our sources say de necklace was stolen already by a man called Darcineaux. You need to get it from him before he moves it to a broker or gets it to whoever hired him."

"Sounds fun."

"Dis is not a trip for fun, Remy," Henri says, staunchly, "It's an important test. Mer-."

"I'm there to advise and sponsor but not actively participate," Mercy explains.

"Okay."

I wonder which one of them went through my Go! Bags to decide to bring this one. This one has two changes of clothes, some practical but sexy under things, a toiletry bag and a book I had wanted to read six months ago but now don't give a damn about. Need to go through Go! Bags more often. The idea of Henri finding a bag primarily full of lingerie is far too amusing.

Henri coughs at me.

Not being serious enough. Right.

He passes me his phone. There's a picture of a cute brown haired man walking through a crowded plaza. The picture was probably taken from a balcony and was at the limit of the photographer's zoom.

"Darcineaux?" I ask.

"Darcineaux." He confirms.

He has an angular jaw. There appear to be some dark streaks in his hair which is short but partly spiked up, in a tousled way, older though, but eh. There's a younger woman with him, longer hair, both of their features are a bit hard to make out because of the graininess of the picture.

"Could be hot."

Both Henri and Mercy give me the eye—she through the rear-view mirror, him turning to look at me, craning his neck.

"What?" I ask.

Henri pinches the bridge of his nose, "Are you even listenin' t'me?"

"What?" I ask again, with inflection of innocence, "Necklace. Darcineaux. Serious business. I got it."

"You better."

Prologue: NSFW

Content: Lesbian sex.

Full story is set around age seventeen when Remy is sent with her sister-in-law Mercy to Paris to recover a necklace called L'etoile du tricherie, (The treacherous star).

( Prologue NSFW )

[Around age 14 or so. After a fateful tithing where Remy's cousin Etienne has died it's becoming apparent that her mutation is more than just eyes and charm. Be warned of all Cajun dialect speech o.O I forgot how much of that there was. Yay Nawlins :p]

Belle knocks on the window then opens it and climbs on through. I’m sitting on the bed throwing marbles at a large plastic bowl I took from the kitchen. I want to see if I can make them disappear or whatever it was like the bars on the ship, or explode like the soapy brush or the cards or the planks as we were throwing ourselves over the side.
“What you be playin’ at?” she asks, “Half expected you to be all curled up and mopey.”
“Won’t bring him back.” I say.
She sits down next to me and hugs me sideways, leaning her head on my shoulder, “You didn’ answer me. What you tryin’ to do?”
“Sometin weird happened.” I tell her, “tryin’ to see if I can make it happen again.”
“What you mean?”
“It’s weird.”
“You said dat.”
“When we were stuck I tink I made the jail bars...well, wid dem it was different...dey dissolve but...”
“Dissolve?”
“Yeah and some udder stuff—it blow up. I don’ know. It just--.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. Dat.”
She turns slightly so her feet are against my hip and looks at me sideways. Her hair slides across and flops off her shoulder, “Cherie hate to say it but you always bin weird.” She flicks my temple.
I push her and she tucks, rolls, and jumps back on the bed, kicking me off the other side. I spring towards her and she dodges sideways. I manage not to stumble and take my turn rolling off the bed. I pick up one of the books on my shelf and as I throw it at her my arm tingles like I’ve been sitting on it for a while and she pushes herself backwards in time that the book doesn't hit her in the face. Just beyond where her face would have been it explodes, tiny bits of charred paper and cardboard scatter around us in the breeze from the ceiling fan.
“Hope you be finish readin’ dat,” she says, out of breath.
“See what I bin sayin’.” I answer, waving some of the ash away from my face.
“You be a might weird,” she says.

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Ami-chan

June 2022

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Morlock Saga pt ?
Morlock Saga: Part 2 (in progress)
Morlock Saga: Part 1 (Writing Cajun accents est très mal)
Morlock Saga (and other bits)
Ruse: Etoile: Chapter 2
Ruse: Etoile: Chapter 1
Ruse: Etoile: Prologue: NSFW
Ruse: Might Weird

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Ami-chan Writes

Entries tagged with ruse au

Morlock Saga pt ?

Morlock Saga: Part 2 (in progress)

Morlock Saga: Part 1 (Writing Cajun accents est très mal)

Morlock Saga (and other bits)

Ruse: Etoile: Chapter 2

Ruse: Etoile: Chapter 1

Ruse: Etoile: Prologue: NSFW

Ruse: Might Weird