Author's Note: I have this story planned out from start to finish, and I'm pretty excited to write it. If there's not much interest in it, though, I might just wait until the whole thing's finished and post it then. So, if you like it, leave a quick review to let me know! It helps the creative process. ;-P Hope you enjoy the first chapter!
--Frances
Edana Walch listlessly scrubbed the counter of the 24-hour diner she worked at, keeping one ear on the television while her eyes focused on the blurs of circular motion that were the rags in her hands. One, in her right hand, was soapy and wet, the other, in her left, clean and dry. It was the fastest way to go about it, she had unfortunately discovered in the many late-night hours she spent here. "Wax on, wax off," she muttered to herself, unable to keep a slight smile from overtaking her lips.
There was mechanical popping sound as the toaster expelled its contents. Wiping her hands on her apron, Edana grabbed a plate and positioned the bread on it, adding a plentiful handful of different jellies and butter. She carried it around the counter and across the diner to an elderly, homeless man who came in regularly around this hour, only ever ordering a glass of water. Also regularly, she gave him a plate of toast, free of charge. It wasn't much, but it was about all she could get away with. The obese cook, Betty, who bore an unnerving resemblance to John Goodman, watched through her little kitchen window like a hawk. Fortunately, she always fell asleep around two o'clock, and stayed out for at least an hour unless a customer came in and ordered something more substantial than a side dish and a beverage.
"Here you go, Sir," smiled Edana, like she did every night, setting it down front of him. For tradition's sake, she winked and added, "On the house," even though he certainly knew that by now. He slowly returned her smile, revealing his significant lack of teeth. On her way back to the register, Edana stopped to ask the only other customers, a pair of women so scantily clad as to arouse suspicion, if everything was all right.
"Yeah, sure," one of them said dismissively, blowing a cloud of smoke towards Edana's face before jumping back into her conversation. Turning around deliberately, Edana tried to stifle her coughing as her eyes watered mercilessly. How she detested the smoking section. Her childhood case of asthma had passed long ago, but left her with hopelessly sensitive lungs. Luckily, the smoke was never much of a problem during the night shift, which was the only time she worked. She left here in the morning to head directly to her part-time job at a coffeehouse before heading back to her cramped apartment for barely enough sleep to keep her alive.
Finding her way to one of the bar's many stools, she sighed and folded her arms on the countertop, letting her head drop to rest on them. Frankly, life was on the verge of being one big pathetic joke. She was exhausted physically and mentally, and her savings grew so subtly that she was very near to giving up hope. The thing was, Edana Walch could afford very few friends and had no family. She hadn't any since she was two years old, and had grown up in various foster homes and orphanages. So far, she'd struggled desperately to maintain hope that there was something better for her. The only thing that kept her going was the idea that everybody suffered, and many suffered far more than she. Her entire life had been spent being the optimistic support for whoever needed her, but bit-by-bit Edana was losing that optimism. She was slowly becoming bitter.
It was hard to believe that only a year ago she'd graduated from high school, fresh-faced and ready to earn her way through the world. Two years of hard work and she'd have accumulated enough to start out at a good college and bury her head in books, then she could finally make a better life for herself. But that had not happened. Misfortune followed her like a lost puppy, and her two-year plan had gradually stretched into three. Now it was dangling far too close to four for her liking. Sometimes, she would stare at her leaky, peeling, ceiling and just wonder, What did I do to deserve this? All she'd ever wanted to do was make something in the world better... to die knowing that people would remember her for years to come as someone who'd actually managed to make a difference. Yes, it was sappy. Yes, it was naïve. But the fact was, she was trying harder than any damn person she knew, and the world was kicking her in the shins, pointing and laughing its ugly, snarling, fire-breathing head off.
There was a jingling of bells and Edana nearly jumped out of her skin, jerking up with the unflattering expression of a cat who's been electrocuted. A familiar voice laughed amusedly as she stumbled from her stool and pushed her stupid waitress's hat out of her eyes. She smiled when she saw the new customer was none other than Remy Lebeau, who stopped by occasionally at odd hours and kept her company with casual conversation about anything and everything. That happened, sometimes. Customers, somehow liberated by the late hour and her unfamiliar face, carried on the freest conversation of their entire week. Remy'd kept showing up, and though she didn't know why, she couldn't help but enjoy the fact. He seemed like the type who enjoyed escaping life for just a little while, every so often. He, also, was the single most charming person she'd ever met in her life, but she couldn't quite put her finger on just what it was that made him so. With ravishing good looks and a Cajun accent that spoke of the kind of balmy southern sunsets she'd only dreamed of, however, specifics weren't really required. The only strange thing about him was the fact that he was always wearing dark sunglasses. Sensitive eyes, he said. Edana was dubious, of course, but wasn't the kind to pry.
"Good morning, Remy," she said, clearly happy to see him but unable to mask a thinness of her voice which betrayed her fatigue.
"Good morning yourself, Edana," he replied good-naturedly as he took a seat at the counter.
"Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?" Already knowing the answer despite the strange hour, she grabbed a mug and filled it.
"Dat sounds good. Thanks, p'tite," he said as she handed it to him and leaned casually on the other side of the bar. Edana's brow furrowed as she noticed a rather deep cut running across his forehead.
"That's a nasty looking gash you got there," she observed with concern. "You want some ice for that?"
She was already halfway to the kitchens when he swallowed his sip of coffee and shook his head, waving her back. "No, no... It's fine; sit down. It's nothing," he said insistently.
Smiling a little at his stubbornness, she raised a brow. "Doesn't look like nothing."
"You know, chere, you're not looking so well yourself." He dodged with a somewhat cocky expression.
Frowning a little, she grabbed her earlier discarded dishcloths and began unnecessarily cleaning the counter again. "Well," she muttered, rubbing spiritedly at a spot that she knew wasn't a spot but actually a peculiar fleck in the countertop, "I'm a little tired. My rent's overdue..." She continued to scrub, talking a little faster. "It's been raining all week and my roof leaks. My cat deserted me, my refrigerator's busted and I haven't had a good night's sleep in days." As soon as she somewhat breathlessly finished, she sighed and looked regretfully at the Cajun, abandoning her attempts to scour the bar top.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to vent," she apologized immediately. "I'm just a little tired, really. I guess more tired than I realized," came the sheepish addition.
Grinning victoriously, Remy shrugged. "Don' be sorry. You can't be happy all de time. Everyone's got dey ups and downs, p'tite."
"Yeah," Edana said softly, pulling up a chair to sit across from him. "That's true."
There was a comfortable silence as the women left in a chipper jangle of bells and Remy and Edana both watched the television in the corner for a moment. It was a commercial for adult diapers.
"I wonder what the casting call for this commercial must have looked like," Edana wondered idly.
The strange comment made him laugh, which Edana noted with the slightest satisfaction.
"Not'ing dat would appeal to any actor conscious of his future career, dat much's for sure," he replied, watching a handful of people trying to make bladder control issues seem like a day at the fair as opposed to a drag.
Suddenly, the word "NEWSFLASH" appeared in bold yellow lettering, accompanied by channel 5's dramatic theme song. Remy choked on his coffee.
Ignoring him, Edana crossed the room and reached up to increase the volume as a pretty, well-groomed woman standing in front of a crowded, trashed intersection appeared. Her hair danced slightly in the early autumn wind, and her face was tinted every so often by the flashing of police lights.
"Hello again, I'm Kiara Johnson bringing you a channel five newsflash. Chaos erupted earlier tonight here on Burke Street when an anti-mutant rally got out of hand. This is only one of many recent rallies, but took an unexpected turn when a mutant was hunted down and beaten by angry protestors. An attempt to set fire to the man, whose name has not been disclosed, was foiled, however, when he somehow propelled the torch from the protestor's hand and sent it flying through a window of the apartment building behind me, which caught flame. Fortunately, the controversial X-Men arrived on the scene, rescuing residents, putting out the fire, and bringing the rally to a stop. None of them were available for comment. The mutant is in critical condition at a local hospital, and new information will be broadcasted as it becomes available. This has been Kiara Johnson for channel five news, reminding you that you heard it here first. We'll now return to your regularly scheduled programming."
Edana stared at the screen for a while after the newsflash disappeared, brow furrowed, biting her lip. Finally, she turned away and shook her head. "Poor man," she sighed, forgetting she'd already washed the counter twice and proceeding to wipe it down again.
"Why you have to watch dat junk, chere?" Remy asked softly, staring into his coffee.
"Well," she said slowly, considering his question in earnest. "I like hearing about the X-Men," she said with a slight smile, as if it were somewhat embarrassing or silly.
"You like hearing about dem losers?" he asked with an inscrutable smile.
"They aren't losers," Edana corrected him seriously. "Quite the opposite, really. They're... extremely lucky."
"Lucky!" he echoed, not bothering to mask his utter surprise.
"Well, yeah," she reasoned, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands. "I mean, they get to go out there every day-"
"Risking their lives, risking everyt'ing," Remy interjected stubbornly.
"Yes, risking everything," Edana insisted with a dreamy smile, oblivious to his sudden shift in mood. "Risking their lives every day for something they believe in. I'm a little envious, to tell you the truth."
"You envy dem," he repeated in disbelief.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess I really do."
For a second he just stared at her, unable to comprehend the fact that anyone would desire the kind of life they lead. He thought of the professor, however, and his confusion was somewhat assuaged. Some people were driven by past experience. Others, though, were truly driven by their dreams. He supposed each one of the X-Men shared a little of that dream, but all of them had other reasons for fighting, as well. But Edana must be a little like the professor. She seemed to carry some experience with her, but put most of her emotional stock in her beliefs. Add in the fact that this girl conveniently hadn't a clue what it was like to fight day after day, and her envy was probably merited.
"You are somethin', chere," he admitted with a shake of his head. "To each his own, I guess, as dey say."
"Well," he said, finishing the last of his coffee in a gulp as he stood up and fished around in his trench coat pocket for his wallet. "I guess I should get out of here." They headed over to the cash register, where he handed her a bill. "Keep de change," he said distractedly as she started to pull out ones. The bell clanged, but, thinking it was just the homeless man leaving, neither of them looked. "You... eh... you were right about de X-Men," he said slowly, a smile creeping onto his lips. "I guess dey are pretty lucky."
Edana closed the drawer and looked up at him with a broad smile, but her face froze as her eyes trailed over his shoulder.
"Wha--?"
Before he could turn around, he felt a gun pressed into his back and heard a click as it was cocked. He raised his hands and mentally cursed himself, furious that someone had caught him here, a place in which he usually enjoyed the ability to let his guard down a little.
"Fill this bag with all the money in the register or your friend gets it," commanded the harsh voice of a native New Yorker.
Edana stared at the short, rather squat man in a ski mask for a moment, silent.
"Do it!" he yelled, giving Remy a shove. Taking the bag, she opened the cash drawer and began filling it.
"Hurry up!"
"Hey, what's going on out there?" Betty demanded, sticking her large head through the window that lead to the kitchen.
"Stay back there, Betty!" Edana called through grit teeth, not looking over her shoulder. Adrenaline was spreading through her veins like wildfire, but a glance at Remy revealed that he seemed unusually calm.
"Shut up!" bellowed the thief, glowering at her. "I got the gun; I give the orders! You keep filling the bag at this rate and you're looking at a steel salad- you got that? And you! You keep your fat ass back there!" he shouted, pointing the gun at Betty's window. That was all the chance Remy needed. He spun around and kicked the gun out the man's hand, sending it in an arc over the counter where it clattered to a rest at Edana's feet. Remy punched the man squarely in the nose, creating a sickening crunch that was doubtlessly a breaking bone.
"Grab the gun, Edana!" Remy yelled, sending the man to the floor with another powerful punch.
Dropping the moneybag, Edana clumsily scrambled for the gun at her feet, but in her franticness accidentally kicked it, sending it clattering down past the end of the bar. She dove after it, and nearly had her hands on it when a pasty white hand snatched it out of her grasp.
"STAY BACK!" shouted the thief, scrambling to his feet and yanking Edana with him, pointing the gun at the middle of her forehead. A breathy, maniacal laughter escaped his throat as Remy froze, jaw tensing for the first time. "I coulda been out of your hair by now, if you'd just given me what I wanted." His voice was queer, shaky. "But you had to play hero. And now you're both gonna die."
Edana squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, visibly shaking as she tried not to cry out. Her miserable, pathetic life seemed to flash before her eyes, and was over just as quickly as it had started. Was this how she was going to go down? Just another worthless nobody slinking around New York with no one to thank her and no one to mourn her passing? Having wasted her life waiting for the perfect moment to start changing the world, and never having found it?
"Don't do dis; jus' take de money," Remy started in calmly, hands raised submissively.
Edana fearfully looked at the man and, for a second, he looked back at her. And she knew.
"DON'T!" Remy's cry was lost over the deafening blast of the gun. A blinding, white-hot pain overwhelmed Edana as she slid down the wall, blood running in streams down her face. She frantically grabbed at her forehead to try and somehow halt the excruciating sensation, a strangled cry escaping her throat. This was it. She had not been granted an instantaneous death; instead, life got its last jab in, letting her die slowly and painfully. There was scuffling going on around her, but the room was spinning and her vision darkening... the noise seemed somehow unimportant. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as her fingertips dug into a dip in her forehead and a hard, now exposed surface. Oh, God, couldn't the pain just stop? Couldn't she just die? What was that- the flat end of the bullet embedded in her brain? It didn't seem right, but her head was splitting in two and nothing was right. Gasping in pain and forcing her eyes open, she saw her own lap through tunnel vision and her tears, and was mystified by what she saw there.
It was... a bullet?
She felt herself being moved and heard a voice from far away. "Oh, Jesus Christ... What... What de hell?"
The last thing Edana saw before darkness closed in was a pair of haunting red and black eyes, looming over her. Then, there was nothing.
--Frances
Edana Walch listlessly scrubbed the counter of the 24-hour diner she worked at, keeping one ear on the television while her eyes focused on the blurs of circular motion that were the rags in her hands. One, in her right hand, was soapy and wet, the other, in her left, clean and dry. It was the fastest way to go about it, she had unfortunately discovered in the many late-night hours she spent here. "Wax on, wax off," she muttered to herself, unable to keep a slight smile from overtaking her lips.
There was mechanical popping sound as the toaster expelled its contents. Wiping her hands on her apron, Edana grabbed a plate and positioned the bread on it, adding a plentiful handful of different jellies and butter. She carried it around the counter and across the diner to an elderly, homeless man who came in regularly around this hour, only ever ordering a glass of water. Also regularly, she gave him a plate of toast, free of charge. It wasn't much, but it was about all she could get away with. The obese cook, Betty, who bore an unnerving resemblance to John Goodman, watched through her little kitchen window like a hawk. Fortunately, she always fell asleep around two o'clock, and stayed out for at least an hour unless a customer came in and ordered something more substantial than a side dish and a beverage.
"Here you go, Sir," smiled Edana, like she did every night, setting it down front of him. For tradition's sake, she winked and added, "On the house," even though he certainly knew that by now. He slowly returned her smile, revealing his significant lack of teeth. On her way back to the register, Edana stopped to ask the only other customers, a pair of women so scantily clad as to arouse suspicion, if everything was all right.
"Yeah, sure," one of them said dismissively, blowing a cloud of smoke towards Edana's face before jumping back into her conversation. Turning around deliberately, Edana tried to stifle her coughing as her eyes watered mercilessly. How she detested the smoking section. Her childhood case of asthma had passed long ago, but left her with hopelessly sensitive lungs. Luckily, the smoke was never much of a problem during the night shift, which was the only time she worked. She left here in the morning to head directly to her part-time job at a coffeehouse before heading back to her cramped apartment for barely enough sleep to keep her alive.
Finding her way to one of the bar's many stools, she sighed and folded her arms on the countertop, letting her head drop to rest on them. Frankly, life was on the verge of being one big pathetic joke. She was exhausted physically and mentally, and her savings grew so subtly that she was very near to giving up hope. The thing was, Edana Walch could afford very few friends and had no family. She hadn't any since she was two years old, and had grown up in various foster homes and orphanages. So far, she'd struggled desperately to maintain hope that there was something better for her. The only thing that kept her going was the idea that everybody suffered, and many suffered far more than she. Her entire life had been spent being the optimistic support for whoever needed her, but bit-by-bit Edana was losing that optimism. She was slowly becoming bitter.
It was hard to believe that only a year ago she'd graduated from high school, fresh-faced and ready to earn her way through the world. Two years of hard work and she'd have accumulated enough to start out at a good college and bury her head in books, then she could finally make a better life for herself. But that had not happened. Misfortune followed her like a lost puppy, and her two-year plan had gradually stretched into three. Now it was dangling far too close to four for her liking. Sometimes, she would stare at her leaky, peeling, ceiling and just wonder, What did I do to deserve this? All she'd ever wanted to do was make something in the world better... to die knowing that people would remember her for years to come as someone who'd actually managed to make a difference. Yes, it was sappy. Yes, it was naïve. But the fact was, she was trying harder than any damn person she knew, and the world was kicking her in the shins, pointing and laughing its ugly, snarling, fire-breathing head off.
There was a jingling of bells and Edana nearly jumped out of her skin, jerking up with the unflattering expression of a cat who's been electrocuted. A familiar voice laughed amusedly as she stumbled from her stool and pushed her stupid waitress's hat out of her eyes. She smiled when she saw the new customer was none other than Remy Lebeau, who stopped by occasionally at odd hours and kept her company with casual conversation about anything and everything. That happened, sometimes. Customers, somehow liberated by the late hour and her unfamiliar face, carried on the freest conversation of their entire week. Remy'd kept showing up, and though she didn't know why, she couldn't help but enjoy the fact. He seemed like the type who enjoyed escaping life for just a little while, every so often. He, also, was the single most charming person she'd ever met in her life, but she couldn't quite put her finger on just what it was that made him so. With ravishing good looks and a Cajun accent that spoke of the kind of balmy southern sunsets she'd only dreamed of, however, specifics weren't really required. The only strange thing about him was the fact that he was always wearing dark sunglasses. Sensitive eyes, he said. Edana was dubious, of course, but wasn't the kind to pry.
"Good morning, Remy," she said, clearly happy to see him but unable to mask a thinness of her voice which betrayed her fatigue.
"Good morning yourself, Edana," he replied good-naturedly as he took a seat at the counter.
"Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?" Already knowing the answer despite the strange hour, she grabbed a mug and filled it.
"Dat sounds good. Thanks, p'tite," he said as she handed it to him and leaned casually on the other side of the bar. Edana's brow furrowed as she noticed a rather deep cut running across his forehead.
"That's a nasty looking gash you got there," she observed with concern. "You want some ice for that?"
She was already halfway to the kitchens when he swallowed his sip of coffee and shook his head, waving her back. "No, no... It's fine; sit down. It's nothing," he said insistently.
Smiling a little at his stubbornness, she raised a brow. "Doesn't look like nothing."
"You know, chere, you're not looking so well yourself." He dodged with a somewhat cocky expression.
Frowning a little, she grabbed her earlier discarded dishcloths and began unnecessarily cleaning the counter again. "Well," she muttered, rubbing spiritedly at a spot that she knew wasn't a spot but actually a peculiar fleck in the countertop, "I'm a little tired. My rent's overdue..." She continued to scrub, talking a little faster. "It's been raining all week and my roof leaks. My cat deserted me, my refrigerator's busted and I haven't had a good night's sleep in days." As soon as she somewhat breathlessly finished, she sighed and looked regretfully at the Cajun, abandoning her attempts to scour the bar top.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to vent," she apologized immediately. "I'm just a little tired, really. I guess more tired than I realized," came the sheepish addition.
Grinning victoriously, Remy shrugged. "Don' be sorry. You can't be happy all de time. Everyone's got dey ups and downs, p'tite."
"Yeah," Edana said softly, pulling up a chair to sit across from him. "That's true."
There was a comfortable silence as the women left in a chipper jangle of bells and Remy and Edana both watched the television in the corner for a moment. It was a commercial for adult diapers.
"I wonder what the casting call for this commercial must have looked like," Edana wondered idly.
The strange comment made him laugh, which Edana noted with the slightest satisfaction.
"Not'ing dat would appeal to any actor conscious of his future career, dat much's for sure," he replied, watching a handful of people trying to make bladder control issues seem like a day at the fair as opposed to a drag.
Suddenly, the word "NEWSFLASH" appeared in bold yellow lettering, accompanied by channel 5's dramatic theme song. Remy choked on his coffee.
Ignoring him, Edana crossed the room and reached up to increase the volume as a pretty, well-groomed woman standing in front of a crowded, trashed intersection appeared. Her hair danced slightly in the early autumn wind, and her face was tinted every so often by the flashing of police lights.
"Hello again, I'm Kiara Johnson bringing you a channel five newsflash. Chaos erupted earlier tonight here on Burke Street when an anti-mutant rally got out of hand. This is only one of many recent rallies, but took an unexpected turn when a mutant was hunted down and beaten by angry protestors. An attempt to set fire to the man, whose name has not been disclosed, was foiled, however, when he somehow propelled the torch from the protestor's hand and sent it flying through a window of the apartment building behind me, which caught flame. Fortunately, the controversial X-Men arrived on the scene, rescuing residents, putting out the fire, and bringing the rally to a stop. None of them were available for comment. The mutant is in critical condition at a local hospital, and new information will be broadcasted as it becomes available. This has been Kiara Johnson for channel five news, reminding you that you heard it here first. We'll now return to your regularly scheduled programming."
Edana stared at the screen for a while after the newsflash disappeared, brow furrowed, biting her lip. Finally, she turned away and shook her head. "Poor man," she sighed, forgetting she'd already washed the counter twice and proceeding to wipe it down again.
"Why you have to watch dat junk, chere?" Remy asked softly, staring into his coffee.
"Well," she said slowly, considering his question in earnest. "I like hearing about the X-Men," she said with a slight smile, as if it were somewhat embarrassing or silly.
"You like hearing about dem losers?" he asked with an inscrutable smile.
"They aren't losers," Edana corrected him seriously. "Quite the opposite, really. They're... extremely lucky."
"Lucky!" he echoed, not bothering to mask his utter surprise.
"Well, yeah," she reasoned, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands. "I mean, they get to go out there every day-"
"Risking their lives, risking everyt'ing," Remy interjected stubbornly.
"Yes, risking everything," Edana insisted with a dreamy smile, oblivious to his sudden shift in mood. "Risking their lives every day for something they believe in. I'm a little envious, to tell you the truth."
"You envy dem," he repeated in disbelief.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess I really do."
For a second he just stared at her, unable to comprehend the fact that anyone would desire the kind of life they lead. He thought of the professor, however, and his confusion was somewhat assuaged. Some people were driven by past experience. Others, though, were truly driven by their dreams. He supposed each one of the X-Men shared a little of that dream, but all of them had other reasons for fighting, as well. But Edana must be a little like the professor. She seemed to carry some experience with her, but put most of her emotional stock in her beliefs. Add in the fact that this girl conveniently hadn't a clue what it was like to fight day after day, and her envy was probably merited.
"You are somethin', chere," he admitted with a shake of his head. "To each his own, I guess, as dey say."
"Well," he said, finishing the last of his coffee in a gulp as he stood up and fished around in his trench coat pocket for his wallet. "I guess I should get out of here." They headed over to the cash register, where he handed her a bill. "Keep de change," he said distractedly as she started to pull out ones. The bell clanged, but, thinking it was just the homeless man leaving, neither of them looked. "You... eh... you were right about de X-Men," he said slowly, a smile creeping onto his lips. "I guess dey are pretty lucky."
Edana closed the drawer and looked up at him with a broad smile, but her face froze as her eyes trailed over his shoulder.
"Wha--?"
Before he could turn around, he felt a gun pressed into his back and heard a click as it was cocked. He raised his hands and mentally cursed himself, furious that someone had caught him here, a place in which he usually enjoyed the ability to let his guard down a little.
"Fill this bag with all the money in the register or your friend gets it," commanded the harsh voice of a native New Yorker.
Edana stared at the short, rather squat man in a ski mask for a moment, silent.
"Do it!" he yelled, giving Remy a shove. Taking the bag, she opened the cash drawer and began filling it.
"Hurry up!"
"Hey, what's going on out there?" Betty demanded, sticking her large head through the window that lead to the kitchen.
"Stay back there, Betty!" Edana called through grit teeth, not looking over her shoulder. Adrenaline was spreading through her veins like wildfire, but a glance at Remy revealed that he seemed unusually calm.
"Shut up!" bellowed the thief, glowering at her. "I got the gun; I give the orders! You keep filling the bag at this rate and you're looking at a steel salad- you got that? And you! You keep your fat ass back there!" he shouted, pointing the gun at Betty's window. That was all the chance Remy needed. He spun around and kicked the gun out the man's hand, sending it in an arc over the counter where it clattered to a rest at Edana's feet. Remy punched the man squarely in the nose, creating a sickening crunch that was doubtlessly a breaking bone.
"Grab the gun, Edana!" Remy yelled, sending the man to the floor with another powerful punch.
Dropping the moneybag, Edana clumsily scrambled for the gun at her feet, but in her franticness accidentally kicked it, sending it clattering down past the end of the bar. She dove after it, and nearly had her hands on it when a pasty white hand snatched it out of her grasp.
"STAY BACK!" shouted the thief, scrambling to his feet and yanking Edana with him, pointing the gun at the middle of her forehead. A breathy, maniacal laughter escaped his throat as Remy froze, jaw tensing for the first time. "I coulda been out of your hair by now, if you'd just given me what I wanted." His voice was queer, shaky. "But you had to play hero. And now you're both gonna die."
Edana squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, visibly shaking as she tried not to cry out. Her miserable, pathetic life seemed to flash before her eyes, and was over just as quickly as it had started. Was this how she was going to go down? Just another worthless nobody slinking around New York with no one to thank her and no one to mourn her passing? Having wasted her life waiting for the perfect moment to start changing the world, and never having found it?
"Don't do dis; jus' take de money," Remy started in calmly, hands raised submissively.
Edana fearfully looked at the man and, for a second, he looked back at her. And she knew.
"DON'T!" Remy's cry was lost over the deafening blast of the gun. A blinding, white-hot pain overwhelmed Edana as she slid down the wall, blood running in streams down her face. She frantically grabbed at her forehead to try and somehow halt the excruciating sensation, a strangled cry escaping her throat. This was it. She had not been granted an instantaneous death; instead, life got its last jab in, letting her die slowly and painfully. There was scuffling going on around her, but the room was spinning and her vision darkening... the noise seemed somehow unimportant. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as her fingertips dug into a dip in her forehead and a hard, now exposed surface. Oh, God, couldn't the pain just stop? Couldn't she just die? What was that- the flat end of the bullet embedded in her brain? It didn't seem right, but her head was splitting in two and nothing was right. Gasping in pain and forcing her eyes open, she saw her own lap through tunnel vision and her tears, and was mystified by what she saw there.
It was... a bullet?
She felt herself being moved and heard a voice from far away. "Oh, Jesus Christ... What... What de hell?"
The last thing Edana saw before darkness closed in was a pair of haunting red and black eyes, looming over her. Then, there was nothing.