Psy-locke: This is my first go at a proper OC other character….I consider my other one more of an OOC character (take my word for it…I use abbreviations.) Anyway, since I find the idea of the Assassin and Thieves' Guilds, I'm going to make my character a history from there….I really want this to be a good fic, the one that people actually READ AND REVIEW. So that means long chappies and wait for it an ACTUAL storyline! My other story on Psylocke is slightly on hiatus (till I get round to writing the next chapter and think up a major storyline to get to, instead of just having a winding series of events until I eventually get bored and decide to kill off my character). I plead for forgiveness on the basis of crappy accents. By the way…just so I don't get major death threats later…is it blasphemous to break up Romy for personal gain?
Okay, this chapter basically begins (hence the name, Chapter One). We introduce Celeste's newly found powers, who she knows and why she's in of other characters introduced, so that we set up a scene for later angsty bits. Long flashback, sorry!
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Chapter One: Mon Pere's Orders
The wind slashed at the girl's figures. They cut lonely figures, on that stone bridge on the water. Belladonna's blonde hair was almost colourless in the overcast day. Her bright, blue eyes were steely and her painted lips were a thin line and spoke of nothing but business. In two hands a dark gun, with the Assassin Guild's symbol on it embellished on gold. A pistol and dagger crossing- how very appropriate.
The other girl, at whom the gun was aimed, smiled ruefully, her grey eyes mirroring the colour of the low-lying clouds that hung ominously above them. There was a storm coming and that girl's hair, too, whipped across her face.
They could well have been sisters. Each stood tall and as still as the grave. Indeed, they wore almost identical outfits. Black leather dusters- the colour dull and without shine. Similar material, though lighter, curved over their sleek figures. The same belt with the same gun holsters, although Belladonna's was empty. The blonde girl's outfit had touches of gold- the belt buckle, the shining buttons and the plain chain around her neck- the other girl the same, but with touches of bright silver. On the girl's wrist, dangling just below the duster's sleeve, a silver bracelet with fine inscription peeked out. If one had a chance to examine it, the name, 'Celeste', could be read.
Celeste- for that was the dark-haired girl's name- took a step backwards, towards stone ledge of the bridge that would prevent a drunken New Orleans' citizen from taking a dip in the bayou. Belle narrowed her eyes.
"Don't move," she ordered coldly, training the gun on her target's torso.
"Why not, Belle? It's not like ya couldn't hit me if I ran. Y'always were the better one with guns," Celeste retorted, taking another step backwards. "I'm surprised Marius sent ya anyway. Why didn't he send someone who'd shoot straight away, though hesitatin' ain't your style."
Belle advanced slightly.
"Mon pere's given ya dis last chance to come back. Even said he'd give ya a trial- haven't ya wondered why ya still breathin', Leste?"
"Well, ain't your pere the model of generosity. I'm not comin' in so shoot or put that pistol away. I'm done wid the Assassins and I'm sick of these stupid guild wars."
"Ya were told when ya joined. Ya only leave da guild with a knife in da back," she replied, aiming the gun at her old friend's heart. "Guess a bullet hole would do though."
"M'not sorry for what I did, Belle. The Guild's been good to me and all, but I sure as hell ain't a killer for hire."
"But ya killed ya own team-mate. For a thief," Belle spat. She hated the thieves with a passion. So much had changed since that night. "Ya could'f let Julien die too."
Celeste's clear, grey eyes stared steadily into Belle's own. If this was her death, she wouldn't look away from it.
"And I have no regrets."
"Den I may as well of shot ya da second I saw ya."
Celeste's heart started pumping. It was dizzying. It wasn't the first time that Belle had pointed a gun at her, or indeed some other potentially fatal action, but this time it was with deadly earnest. She swayed slightly, then straightened up. She wouldn't die this way. She couldn't die this way.
She refused to die this way.
The wind that had previously harried that New Orleans' bridge, sending autumn leaves skirting around them, suddenly began to roar and Celeste clutched at her head, suddenly, the wind pressure around her suddenly dropping. Belladonna dropped to her knees as that phantom wind sought to pluck her from the ground. Celeste, too, fell to her knees. Her eyes were glowing white now and her mouth was slightly agape. On the streets, shop fronts began to close and the people to retreat to what shelter there was. They were well-trained to deal with tornadoes, or whatever it was that Mother Nature chose to throw at them.
The wind only increased and it seemed to bear down on Belladonna. It was no ordinary wind. Celeste was causing it. Celeste, whose own scream of fear was the very voice of the wind. She couldn't control the power- the power of the wind itself- coursing through her veins. The wind seemed only to be an extension of her own body and she pressed her enemy. But that raw power couldn't be moulded by her and torrents of wind whipped through the area, dislodging house tiles and smashing windows. She tried to quash it.
"Arrête! Arrête! Arrête!" Belladonna was yelling, in panicked French. In one hand, she still clutched the gone and the other clawed for a grip, some purchase on the stone of that bridge.
Celeste's hair was flaring outwards in a dark parody of an angelic halo. Her mouth was a rictus of fear.
"Trop de puissance! Je ne peux pas!" she wailed.
Belladonna, just as the winds tore her from the bridge, in an attempt to bear her high into the heavens, shot once, twice, three times. The wind snared two of the bullets, slamming them into the ground on either side of Celeste. The third flew true; seeking the elusive spot between two ribs- Belladonna was masterful in her trade of death. As the bullet cut through the wind, Celeste's body stiffened and her back arched, as her feet lifted off the ground and jerked her body upwards. The bullet cut through her jacket and, for a moment, her eyes returned to their normal colour. And the very moment after, as the bullet sank into her chest, she disappeared.
--Flashback -->
"Dis is stupid," Belle hissed, as Julien lifted her through the window.
"Hush, petite soeur. Pere wants dis trinket, so we gonna get't for de thieves do. Ya know why he wants it, heh? Think dat them dogs are better off with it?"
"Don't ya f'get I'm marryin' one of dem dogs."
Julien scowled. He'd kill the devil-eyed thief, before he let him even touch his sister. In fact, the thief would probably meet with an unfortunate accident on the way home from the wedding.
"And I though y'were marryin' that devilishly handsome Prince of Thieves," teased Celeste, as she appeared in the window.
Belle's dagger was immediately at the girls throat.
"You thinkin' thoughts about my beau?"
Celeste rolled her eyes.
"Sure I am. He's a fine piece'f flesh, but I ain't gonna be the one picking up all the pieces of it after you've had ya fun with him Belle. Unless ya planned on stayin' faithful, heh?"
Belle smiled and re-sheathed the dagger. She offered her hand to her joking friend.
"Pere says he doesn't want no blood spilt unless ya have to," she said with very little sincerity. "Is Benoit coming up?"
"Non. Benny-boy be parking the car."
She spoke Benoit's name with contempt. The guy, despite his cockiness, was as exciting as a rock. A rock that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. It wasn't as if Celeste could tell him who she was really with…that way was bloodshed for all…
"Thieves," hissed Julien, as they faded back into the shadows, breaths held. Three figures were indeed slipping past, inky blobs in the museum's twilight darkness.
"No shooting. Too loud," breathed Julien. "Da tallest one's mine."
It was obvious that it was indeed Remy Le Beau and two of the farflung members of Le Beau's seemingly endless clan. The Elixir of Life guaranteed many children in a generation.
'Too many,' thought Julien. 'May's'well do Jean-Luc a favour and get rid of one.'
They skirted the walls, towards the place that the jewel they sought was displayed.
"They're fast, I give'em that," Celeste murmured as Belle swore silently.
The jewel was gone. The thieves, however, lingered just out of eyesight.
"Take'em," ordered Belladonna.
"Le Beau!" said Julien harshly as the thieves turned back.
The tallest turned slightly, head still bowed, auburn hair loose across his forehead.
"Belle, mon amore, Remy didn' think dat thieving was your style," he said smoothly, ignoring Julien.
"Ya got something of mine, Remy. I want it."
He raised an eyebrow and lifted his head. He revealed his glowing eyes- a glinting scarlet on bottomless black. Those eyes now glittered with amusement.
"Non, mon amore. Remy'll be givin' ya lots of rubis et émeraudes et diamants, but ya can't have dis one."
One of the dark-haired thieves was eyeing Celeste, then tipped her an obvious, yet suggestive wink.
"Eyes ta'yaself thief. Ya don't want bebes, do ya Belle? Why don't we castrate'em?"
Mock horror on Remy's face. He reached into a coat and pulled out his a card.
"Dose be another one of Remy's jewels ya can't have. 'Sides, Remy learnt a new trick."
The card in his hand suddenly began to glow. It was fascinating, but Celeste was edging to the side.
"Belle, Remy doesn't think dat did marriage gonna work out. J'ai de meilleures choses à faire que marient une chienne folle comme toi."
He threw the card at their feet.
"Move," yelled Celeste, dodging to the side as Belle whipped behind a pillar.
Julien strode forward.
"You'll pay for that ya devil-eyed batard!"
The card whined and exploded, sending Julien flying backwards into the very pole that shielded Belle.
"Julien!" she yelled, whipping out her gun and firing shots into the smoky darkness. There was one cry of pain and someone fell to the ground.
"Ya look after him, I'll get 'em!"
Celeste dashed into the darkness then stopped.
"Etienne? Y'alright? Eti?"
"S'okay," a male voice murmured. Etienne shuffled forward, his leg oozing blood, supported by his brother, Theo.
"Etienne, ya gotta get outta here. Belle's gonna kill y'all."
"We be on our way, chere. Didn't know dat Remy'd do that. Idiot. Looks like da guild war's gonna get bad now."
"Remy's gone. He took da jewel and he ran," Theo whispered, seeming weary. "Don't think dat we'll be seein' him again."
"Ya gotta get outta here, both of ya."
She linked an arm with Etienne, supporting him.
"Non, m'amore. You get outta here. Belle can't see you with us. Your death too."
He was weak, but reached out an a hand to stroke her pale face. He leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on her mouth.
"What da hell is going on here?"
Out of the darkness, Benoit strode brandishing a throwing knife. Celeste turned as if electrocuted.
"Is dat what ya turned me down for? Dat piece of thieven' trash?" he yelled, pulling out one of his throwing knives. He was a notoriously good shot.
Celeste immediately whipped out her gun.
"Get back, Benoit."
There was a crazy gleam in his eyes and he flicked his hand forward, just as Celeste shot. Celeste's shot slammed just below his heart, but his hot was truer. As Benoit fell gasping and wheezing, his lung punctured, Etienne had slumped onto his brother. A dagger in his side and blood coursed down his side. His eyes already seemed to glaze over.
"Belle," he wheezed once, before he closed his eyes for the last time.
"Eti?" Celeste whispered. It was too late, he was gone. She hadn't even understood what his last word had meant.
"Get out of here," Theo whispered urgently. "Now. Eti wouldn't want ya caught up in this. Get out of da guild, get outta New Orleans. Ya can't go back now."
Celeste took a last look at Benoit, whose breathing had stopped too.
She ran into the darkness. There was no going back, ever. It was her first kill, her own team-mate. No going back now.
Theo faded into the darkness. The guilds had an unspoken agreement. The dead would be respected and returned.
The bodies of Etienne and Benoit lay on the ground, slowly losing the warmth of life. Becoming cold. Belle had seen it all. Etienne, as his soul departed from his body, had seen her and tried to warn them.
"There's no goin' back now," she said coldly, hands red with Julien's lifeblood.
--End Flashback -->
Have you ever had that dream when you're flying? When you're so high above everything that nothing matters? Snippets of memory. Moments of seeming consciousness.
Celeste dreamt, she disembodied herself from what it had been to be human. Everything had been to hard. Now, she floated on air. Or was she air? Either way, she had no desire to return.
She was a wisp of air in the wide, infinite sky. Air doesn't feel. Air doesn't think. Air is nowhere, but it is everywhere. These words echoed through her head. For a moment, her human conciousness arose.
'You're doin' this,' she told herself, 'this must be 'anoth one of them powers.'
She quelled such thoughts, content to not be human. But she didn't think she was a mutant either. Perhaps she should try to turn back.
'No. Not yet,' she said.
She closed her mind's eye and relaxed. She felt her astral body float and join an air current. It would be spring soon and the warmer winds of the south blew ever north.
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Psy-Locke: sigh My greatest work yet, especially since my other work's so dodgy. So, team, what did you think? Celeste has discovered her powers, y'all know what she's running from and now she's headed north…what's north of New Orleans? Why…Bayville, New York! Drifting upon the air currents, Celeste had forgotten herself and doesn't want to remember…and Cerebro has detected something strange…and what has Storm so bothered? Find out next time I feel like writing! READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!