Sabby13: Howdy folks! Okay…so this a story me and Gender Outlaw are writing together. I'm a Romy shipper. She is a Rola shipper. What do we have in common? Besides the voices whispering in our heads and an addiction for writing until our eyeballs explode and our heads start to hurt? We're sick to death of all those damn clichéd romance stories with Rogue and Remy or Rogue and Lance. So we decided to come up with our own. Hopefully, it's not as clichéd. Hopefully, it's a lot more imaginative. And hopefully you'll read it!
Gender Outlaw: Sabs, ya really 'outa learn more html. ::wink nudge:: But ya'd doing good wif what ya go so far. Oiivas, this chapter is long. 'specially compared ta wha we started wif, nein? Review peps, otherwise, how we 'upposed ta know what ye don't like 'n' do? 'N', 'bviously, since ye readin' this 'n' all, ye like Remy, ye like Rogue, and ye like X-Men. ::grins:: Tha's all ye'll need fur dis story.
Read and review! Tell us if you find any grammar, spelling, or plot errors! Tell us what you think, what you like, and what you don't. SPEAK!
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Inamorata
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Winter was damn cold. Everything from the spiny barks of trees to the gray, clammy atmosphere of the sky, showed it. The earth had frostbite.
The shutters, once thick and sturdy, creaked slowly on their hinges. Black as the devil, shadows hid beneath the edges of the window panes. Dark green leaves blurred together in the distant tree line to form some sort of bold, ugly, vision of death.
The floor was cold, polished to unhealthy perfection. White square tiles reflected the fluorescent rectangle lights. Maurice rocked back and forth in his chair, rubbing the stingy flesh of his hands from within the folds of his sleeves. His sweater rode up when he leaned back too far, and his skin stung from the cool blast of wind.
Business men know how to cut costs, and air conditioning was a definite penny saver in winter. He jerked his sweater back down, letting the chair's legs land on the ground.
The silence was eerie this late at night. Every creak sounded like a thief's voice. Every sigh of wood seemed to be a dark, deadly figure too intent on his mission to bother about human lives, or lack thereof.
'Casualties of war' he'd heard the documentary last night say.
He'd seen the movies. He knew what happened to guys like him. Men alone and on guard, in the darkest and coldest night... To say he was jumpy was a trivial observation.
The large, dark room full of shadows and that damn mummy case in the corner was not helping. That thing had better not be thinking about eating him, dead or otherwise. He spared a glance at it through the large case set on display positioned between the two.
He sighed and grabbed the small blue bag he'd brought from home off the old worn desk it leaned against and drew it to his lap. His wife had dismissed his fears as foolish. He was still young, barely twenty something. She had said it was all in his mind. Nothing was going to happen on his first night of the job. She had the right to say such things. She was older, and age gave experience.
Reaching into the bag he dug through the contents for a few favorite books he had brought along. 'Special' books he and his wife used to read to each other at night, before bed, to help them get in the mood. They had memorized the chapters over the years.
He tapped his foot as he read, humming a song that had been playing in his mind all day. The chair started rocking back and forth again, a mock lullaby. He doodled designs in the dust across the desk he sat in front of with his spare hand while he read, thinking about his first crush, his wife.
She had even said yes to him on the first time! He was lucky to not have any world experiences to age him. His hair was still as full and dark as it had been when he was younger, his mind not growing any different over the years.
The door beside him creaked as its handle was turned. In a sudden moment of panic, Maurice glanced around the area quickly, before grabbing a rusty old candlestick left from who-knows-when and who-knows-why. He jumped behind the door, hoping his footsteps wouldn't be heard, and crouched in the darkness there.
The frame of doorway shifted and the door swung slowly open to let a long shadow drift into the expansive room, then shut with a soft click. It shifted in the darkness cloaking the doorframe.
Silence. Then ...
"What in the seven hells are you doing down there Maur?" A muffled raspy voice exclaimed. "If you have to go to the bathroom, there's a toilet down the halls!" The shadow, covered thickly in coats and sweaters, shook his head and moved slowly to Maurice's chair. He settled carefully in it, gripping the handles with a pair of expensive leather gloves.
Maurice, feeling really stupid and foolish, got up from behind the door, while trying as best as he could to hide the candlestick behind his back. He smiled politely as the mound of coats and sweaters started muttering to himself.
"My bones, my bones. I know I'm not as young as I used to be, but I'm not a grandpa yet! Seesh... I should get paid extra on nights like this."
The bundle of fabric shifted and looked at Maurice . "Zack's almost done with the North Wing. I've finished my rounds, obviously. You head out now, and check in with him when you get to your post." he finished with a sharp look.
Maurice nodded hesitantly and backed slowly to the door, his feet trying to step elusively even, careful to hide the candlestick from view. How embarrassing would that be? He'd have hard time explaining to everyone why he had felt the need to knock the supervisor out with an antique. And a candlestick at that! Well ... it was better than just throwing his book at him, but barely.
"Whatcha waiting for?" the elder guard croaked in annoyance, when he saw Maurice still in the entrance to the room. He painfully climbed out of the chair and took a step towards the younger man. "Hurry up, before you throw us all off schedule!"
"I'm going." Maurice said quickly before hurriedly opening the door and stepping out into the dark hallway.
The thick bundle of winter attire shook its head in annoyance. Spotting the open book thrown to the side of the table he picked it up curiously. "What d'hell…?" The pitch of his voice seemed to rise sharply in surprise. He coughed, seeming to remember his place.
"What is this?" He said sternly as he looked up expectantly. But Maurice had already left. "Kids these days…" He muttered to himself. He made sure the door was securely closed and locked before walking back to the desk.
Instead of sitting down back he just stood by the side and picked up Maurice's book again. He shook his head as skimmed over the worn, open page. "Man, dis guy's a perv…" He muttered to himself, staring at the various clichés of sex.
Before it could be stopped, a giggle slipped out of the cloth heap. The leather gloves clamped over the many scarves on the spot where a mouth should have been but the pile still shook with suppressed snickering. He walked quickly across the room over to the darkest corner, choking back as much of the giggles as possible. But even as the snickers crept out, the layers of clothes were slowly being peeled off.
Gone went the beanie and ski cap. The knitted scarves and mufflers were carefully unwound as the four sweaters and the top few jackets were shed. All that remained of the winter wear was a slim figure in a brown, well-worn trench coat and a pair of gloves with a couple of fingers missing.
In fact, the only thing remaining of the security guard was the giggling, which hadn't quite subsided yet. In his place, was a young thief probably not more than sixteen standing in the shadows trying not to laugh out loud.
Finally, in an attempt to calm the fit of hysterics, he started counting all the cameras mounted on the walls through the space. One, two, three, four, five … and the sixth was directly over the display. The giggles disappeared as the seriousness of the situation registered with the thief. Time to get to work.
This was the only spot in the room not visible by any of the cameras and the space needed to be utilized as quickly and efficiently as possible. A plastic drinking straw was pulled out of one pocket and some wrapped pieces of extra sticky bubble gum in the other.
A small bit was chewed vigorously before taken between two of the ungloved fingers and placed at the end of the straw. After some careful calculation and a bit more chewing, the gum was spit onto the camera opposite the thief. It landed smack dab in the middle of the lens and the thief smiled.
This was repeated until every camera, save one, had the lens covered in soggy chewed goo. The only one left was directly over the robber's head. All that needed to be done was for an ungloved finger to touch the exposed wires in the back and with a quick hiss, voila!, a small pink flash and the camera was no longer a danger.
After that it was as simple as walking over to each camera and reaching up the wall to place a finger on the bubble gum. One by one, pink flash after pink flash, all the cameras were soon no more than pretty, expensive decorations.
It was hard not to feel cocky, because yes, he was the best. But then again, if you grow up with the New Orleans Thieves Guild you have to be. And this thief, Le Diable Blance, had a reputation to uphold.
There was a shout from down the hall and the thief rolled his eyes, and mentally chastised himself. Knocking out the cameras had taken too long. In the meantime, the old guard had probably just been found, tied up in his chair with smelly pair of underwear shoved in his mouth.
Merde… Jean Luc would not have been pleased.
"If dere's one t'ing I will not stand for," He had lectured. "its sloppiness! Any cooyon can get busted if dey take more den ten seconds longer den dey should have! All it takes is one slip up, one moment of cockiness and dey're done."
This particular cooyon had better hurry if getting arrested wasn't going to be a part of the plan. A loop-sided heart was traced onto the glass covering of the room's centerpiece display case. The heart glowed a bright pink before the glass fell through and a gloved hand reached in to grab the jewels housed within on a soft, black pillow.
The guards could be heard running quickly down the hall even as the jewels were shoved deep inside one of the lined jacket pockets. The lights of their flashlights were already seen reflected bobbing up and down through the small glass peep window on the door.
Le Diable Blance grabbed the glass cut out and tried to pull it through the opening in the case just cut. It was stubborn not to fit and just clinked softly against the container as the thief tried to quickly pull it through without shattering the shard.
The flashlight beams were getting brighter, they must be checking the other rooms nearby. Heartbeat racing, another angle was tried. It didn't work and the guards sounded like they were in the room right next door. A stray wisp of hair blew in the thief's face as another angle still didn't release the heart.
Okay, deep breath. Panicking wouldn't get anyone anywhere.
With a shaky breath, the glass was carefully tilted again and finally pulled out. The footsteps of the guards were louder, but ignored. With a flick of the wrist a playing card seemed to magically appear in the free hand and was placed in the middle of the display's cushion.
"The robber must be in the Egyptian exhibit!" someone, probably Maurice, shouted.
Well, now it was obvious where they were.
The footsteps gathered right outside the door. But that was okay. The cut glass was back in place, and with another tracing the molecules around it smoothed and reunited. You couldn't even tell where it had been cut, the surface sleek and flawless.
There was barely enough time to admire his handiwork before the door was kicked open and the guards came in, the door bouncing off the wall. The first thing they noticed was the stranger standing in the shadows.
"You there!" Maurice called out. He knew something like this would happen! Those movies never lied! He just thanked his lucky stars he hadn't wandered off any strange alleys with weird looking people. And that it wasn't a full moon tonight. Werewolves ... he shuddered.
"Get into the light so I can see your face!" he demanded in a fierce voice, quickly checking the other corners of the room with his flashlight for accomplices.
The stranger made no move.
"I'm armed!" He called threateningly. "I'm warning you, do as I say or I will shoot!"
Zack had years on Maurice in this business and he knew using force was alright at times, but shooting before reasoning was not looked well upon. The rookie had probably been watching too many late night dramas. He drew himself up in the silence.
"Look, you." Zack said loudly. "I'm going to take my flashlight and when I shine it on you I want you to put your hands up and come into the middle of the room. Don't you dare try anything funny, got it?" The light traveled up the thief's jacket but with all the layers of scarves and hats, Zack couldn't make out a face.
The robber was still motionless.
Zack tried again. "Look, sir, if you don't put your hands up my friend here is going to assume you're armed and dangerous!" Slowly, the guard started walking forward toward the stranger. "Keep your eye on him, okay Maurice?" he commanded.
Maurice nodded.
"Now don't do anything stupid, sir." Zack told the robber soothingly, his words smooth and his motions fluid. "Nobody here wants to get hurt tonight."
Zack suddenly grabbed the collar of the thief's jacket and pulled quickly forward.
There was no resistance. In fact, it seemed almost like he had been waiting for just this moment because he fell bodily against Zack and they both tumbled heavily to the floor. A shot rung out and the flashlight clattered to the ground, rolling under the nearby desk.
Amidst the confusion, neither guard saw the shadow slipping out the open door.
In fact, once they had turned the light switch on and had gotten a good look around, they didn't really notice anything wrong with the room. Other than the fact that the alarm was blaring from the window being accidentally shot … and the mummy on the floor, bundled up thickly in winter clothes.
It wasn't until the sirens from the police cars could be heard that Maurice gave out a slight whimper. "Oh…holy shit," he drew in his breath sharply.
Zack raised an eyebrow, but followed his partner's gaze. "Fuck…" He cursed under his breath, standing up and brushing himself off, giving a hard look to the clothed corpse that had attacked him. He glanced at the display case beside him and glared, noticing.
Where the brilliant Egyptian emeralds had been displayed there was now a glossy playing card. The heavy sound of footsteps scrambling down the halls said the guards from other sectors of the museum were arriving. Not good news.
"The emeralds..." Maurice muttered in shock.
Zack glared at the faint flash of lights coming over the horizon. "There's gonna be hell to pay."
"Stolen..." Maurice said faintly. "Oh, I'm fired. I am sooo fired." He nodded his head firmly, quite sure of his fate and stared uneasily at the bony, wrapped hands of the mummy.
"Noo..." Zack grinned bitterly, "they weren't stolen. They turned into the Queen a'Hearts, cuz they used to be Cleopatra's favorite." He glanced again at the card on the emerald's display pillow, then reached down to grab the mummy, slowly hoisting it back up in it's own display case.
The entire street was closed off. Le Diable Blance wasn't able to stop the smile from growing. So much chaos at such a late hour on such a cold, dismal night, and all for a pair of emeralds about the size of a chicken nugget. Gambit couldn't help but bask in the glow of it all.
"Poppa's gone kill you when dis pops up on th' news…" A male voice said. "What'd y'do this time?"
She wasn't too surprised. "You worry too much, Henri." Gambit said with a lot more nonchalance then she felt. Another strand of unbound hair fell in her face. She grabbed the pale, white bangs and twisted them with the rest of her hair to stuff down the neck of her jacket and out of her face.
"Ya know he let's me get away wit' a lot more den de rest of ya'll." She turned and batted her eyes at her brother, her grin cheekily showing in her lips and eyes.
He wasn't impressed and just gazed blankly at her performance.
Gambit sighed and rolled her eyes, but it was more because of amusement then actual irritation."Y'can't blame me for wantin' these…" She held the emeralds up for Henri to look at and tilted her head cutely, smiling prettily when she saw the shocked look on his face. "Don't dey bring out the color of m'eyes?"
Henri tore his gaze away from the bright gleam of the emeralds and looked up at his sister's sparkling green eyes. Her grin was back and it lit up her entire face. He let out an agitated sigh and bowed his head in defeat, shaking it slightly. "Anna!" He exclaimed angrily. "You--!"
"Is dat a yes?" She asked sweetly, eyes laughing. She absently started flipping one of the emeralds up and down through the air as if it was a coin, catching it within her glove and releasing it again.
"Why y'doin' dat so close t'de edge?" Henri scolded. "Y'gone drop it." He sat down next to where she was standing and pulled his legs up under him. It was still cold out tonight. He wrapped his arms around himself and stuffed them in the opposite pockets.
Gambit rolled her eyes. "You know I never do" she huffed. The gem was flipped high one last time but instead of catching it in her hand, she held open her jacket pocket. For a breathless second, it seemed as if the jewel would miss and fall. lost, into the streets below.
But by the time the thought registered, the emerald had already safely tucked away in her coat. "See," She said smugly, patting the pocket closed. "Gambit never misses." She hopped off the ledge and onto the roof, where she sat comfortably next to him.
"You way too conceited for y'own good." He deadpanned. "Y'know dat, non?" He stared listlessly at her.
She shook her head. "I ain't conceited." She said firmly. "It's a fact. Look at dese pretty t'ings den look at my eyes. Y'can't tell me dey don't look similar." She stood up again, and put her beaming face close to his as if to challenge him to say otherwise.
Henri glanced up at his sister's still present grin and jubilant eyes again before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Like I'd ever admit dat t'you…" He said huffily, turning to stare in the other direction moodily. "You'd be dancin' round de house like a peacock." He rolled his eyes again.
Gambit beamed. "That's a yes!" She exclaimed triumphantly. "I know you, Henri Lebeau! An' I know dat's de closest to a yes you evah gone give me." She grinned again in response and fingered the bright stone in her pocket absentmindedly. The wails of the sirens had stopped in the distance and as she stared at the mansion, she could see the officers standing huddled in groups.
"But I don' see why y'had t'do it." Henri continued, ignoring the little victory dance she was now creating. "We got plenty o'emeralds at home."
She shrugged and stopped dancing. "Mercy dared me." She said simply. "Who am I t'turn down a dare?" She looked around curiously. "Speakin' a which. Where is de girl? Dis was her idea." She pulled the trench coat tight around her slender body as a cold wind whipped through her hair, messing it up even more.
Henri groaned. "Not again! I shoulda known." He glared at his sister. "Why can't you jus' play make up wit' Bella?!" He exclaimed. "I don' need you runnin' around wit de older t'ieves! We don' play cacher-faite(hide-and-seek) or Truth an' Dare! We do serious work!" He hunched down over the ledge and buried his face in his hands, shaking it back and forth in exhaust and disgust.
Anna let out a squawk of indignation and hopped back up on the railing. "So what? You think I'm jus' some li'l bebe dat needs t'keep outta canaillerie (trouble)?!" She asked. When Henri didn't say anything, she rolled her eyes and started pacing. "You know I can't stand Bella! She starts growin' boobs an' suddenly all she cares about is business an' de Guilds! Which t'ief is de strongest, Anna? Whose de mos' skillful, ma chere? Who you t'ink is de handsomest?" She rolled her eyes.
"All she does is shine up her guns and practice sharp shootin'. She thinks any one she picks from de Guild is jus' gone faint at her feet, like nothing!" She paused for a breath then looked sharply at her brother. "You didn't tell me where Mercy went."
"Where d'you t'ink?" he retorted, glaring evenly. "She heard de cops' sirens an' t'ought y'got caught." He stood up straighter and pulled out his watch to check the time.
She pouted. "Ya mean she ditched me?!" she exclaimed, and snorting added, "An' she says I'm de chicken." She crossed her arms and hunched over, staring up and down the street and the silence and darkness. There was a cat meowing behind some nearby garbage cans for food.
"Non." Henri corrected. "She knows you de biggest cooyon in de Guild! Please tell me y'didn' leave y'li'l callin' card, again."
There was silence. The cat ran away, it's form sleeking quickly out the alley and across the street, quickly disappearing back into the shadows on the other side of the road.
"Anna!" Henri exclaimed, slapping the cement.
She blushed "I don' see what de big deal is!" She said defensively. "We're thieves! We're s'posed ta steal thangs we like! An' I'm good at it! Poppa says I'm de best! What's wrong wit' leavin' a li'l signature?" She turned and stared dead-eyed at him, challenging.
Henri rolled his eyes. "Dere's a difference b'tween stealin' for a profit and stealin' dem for our own greed." He huffed and gave her a look. "An' dere's a reason we don' leave hints behind. Dat's how good t'ieves become sloppy t'ieves. Dey get lazy an' over confident. And then…"
"…the only thang they end up stealin' be bread off de other inmate's tray." Anna finished dryly in unison. "Merci, Poppa." She snapped sarcastically. "Will you relax?!" She held onto his shoulder while she hopped down off the railing and started walking to the door.
"I'm not done scoldin' you yet!" Henri called after her.
Anna turned and stuck her tongue out. "Well, den I suggest y'do it back home! Merde! It's cold out here!"
Before Henri had a chance to say anything else, she had already closed the door behind her. Another cold breeze blew by and he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. She was right, it was unbelievably cold tonight. "Of all de swamp rats dat could wash up…" he muttered to himself. "I get stuck wit' dat one for a sister…"
He felt something in the very bottom of his pocket. "What…?" He hadn't pick pocketed yet, he'd been too busy trying to track down Anna and Mercy. So why was there something in his pocket? He pulled it out slowly. One of the emeralds that Anna had stolen sparkled brightly in his hand.
Comment typique (how typical). He couldn't help thinking, grinning slightly.
The main problem with Anna was that she really was the best thief in the Guild. (Well, except for him and their dad, of course, he thought dryly.) She wasn't even old enough for her Tilling yet and look at this! She had just robbed the Museum of Archaeological History.
If there was one thing he could say about her impulsiveness, it usually worked out so well you'd have thought she was planning it out months in advance. For every mistake she made, there was a back up to get her out of it. She was quick on her feet and had a Schwegmann's bag (a lot) of good luck.
The girl was just too smooth for her own good sometimes.
But then again…as he looked back over the horizon at the chaos swarming around the Museum and the groups of people still gathered there, he shook his head. No matter how smart and quick witted she was, Henri just didn't see how she'd be able to explain this one to Jean Luc.
Slapping and rubbing his hands for warmth against the brisk air, he shivered and went inside.