Title: For those who don't know Drop is a poker term for fold and Change Gears is a poker term for changing your style of play.
A/N: Thanks Twbasketcase, glad ya like it. And thanks for the advice with the French, I'm trying to stick to stuff I know by prior knowledge but I'm sure I'll have to use that translator thing eventually.
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Chapter 2: Drop and Change Gears
There was the loud sound of banging on metal before the clanging of it against the floor of the mansion as the access grate to an air vent clattered to the floor and Remy dropped down feet first from the air vent before taking a quick look around the dimly lit hall to make sure no one was around. He wanted to get in, get what he came for, and get out, he didn't want to run into anyone, he didn't want to hold any conversations, he just wanted to get out.
Kneeling down he lifted the grate in his gloved hands and carefully placed it back into place, make sure that it looked exactly how it did before he had kicked it out. He took another quick look up and down the hall before he turned and moved quickly but silently down the hall as if he knew exactly where to step to avoid the creaking boards that were definite to be there in and old place such as this, wanting to move on before anyone came to investigate the noise.
Our little thief quickly pressed his back against the plaster wall and peeked his head around the corner just enough to see around as he heard muffled voices of two people at the end of the hall. Crouching down he turned the corner as he crept along the wall and stayed low and silent until he could no long hear the voices before standing up quickly as so that he could move more quickly down the hall.
Several minutes and a few quick evasions later and Remy was now taking a crouching detour over the roof. He stayed crouched as he moved along the shingled roofing until he was finally directly above the window in which he needed enter to get to his target. Lifting his head to scan the area, his odd eyes made the shadowy figures of men that appeared to be watching for people or anything suspicious but this merely caused a slight smirk to creep its way onto his face as he deduced that he could easily get in before anyone ever noticed him.
With a fluid movement he was hanging down off of the roof, his legs hooked on the edge to keep him up. From this position he was able to reach his hands down and brace his palms upon the windowsill of the window above his intended destination and used this grip mixed with gravity to fall forward and twist in the air, grabbing a hold of the windowsill as he turned he hung by it as he inspected the window as he braced the toes of his boots upon the windowsill below him.
Releasing the sill above him with his right hand he reached into one the interior pockets of his jacket and from it he removed tiny glasscutter in which he used to create a circle in the glass just large enough to fit his hand through near the top. Replacing the cutter in its previously occupied pocket he brought his hand back up again and knocked the heel of his hand against the circle, knocking it in and to the floor.
Upon reaching in through the whole he felt for the latch that was the lock of the window and upon getting it in his fingers he turned it, unlocking the window before withdrawing his hand he pushed open the window. Placing his free hand back on the sill above him and swung his feet back then forward using the momentum to drop in through window but as his feet hit the floor the lights clicked on.
"Bonjour, mon fils. I suspected dat you would come here." There as the door stood Jon Luc dressed as if he were making some business deal rather then speaking to his own adopted son.
"Merde..." Was all Remy muttered at first as he stood up straight to look on at his father, "O' course, pére. I be hearin' dat ya be plannin' on lettin' dem assassins kill meh. Not dat it matters much." And with that he turned and walked over to the closet in the room.
"Now, now, mon fils, dere's no need to be angry with your pére. It's only business, if I could I would help you, Remy, but dere's not much dat I can do. It's best dat ya leave for a while."
"Dat's exactly what I plan ta do…" And with that he pulled a black duffle bag from the closet and peered inside. There it was, wrist guards, shin guards, his entire preferred uniform. Nodding to himself he began to load it with a few spare street clothes before he zipped it closed and slung it over his shoulder as he turned to face Jon Luc again. "Au revoir…" And with that he walked past him and out the door as there was no longer any need to sneak about seeing as if his father knew he was there most probably did, and head to where he had stashed his bike in order to get out of New Orleans.
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Several hours and a couple hundred miles later and Remy sat atop of an old wooden picnic table out side of a rest stop with a half smoked Marlboro pressed between his lips and an almost disconnected from the world look upon his face as his hands absentmindedly shuffled a deck of playing cards, his eyes hidden from the world by a pair of dark sunglasses, while he thought of what to do and where to go.
Remy had been sitting there in the same spot for the better part of an hour and was on his fifth cigarette as cell phone in the pocket of his jacket rang. Letting the cards fall into place in his right hand he reached down with his left and pulled out the phone before flipping it open, not bothering to see who it was that was calling. "'Ello?"
The voice on the other end of the line spoke in a speedy, hushed voice, "Remy, its Lapin. Dere might beh a way for ya ta get back in good with Jon Luc, good enough dat he'd figh' for ya in da situation ya in. He spoke ta Henry about dis job, dere's dis ring, called da 'Soul of Ra", ancient Egyptian if I remember righ', belongs ta dis casino tycoon, dunno his real name, bu' he goes by da name of Rapture… Dun ask meh, I dun get it eider. He's down on the Alabama coast, casino's named 'Da Black Spade', yeah I know, real original righ'? Well I gotta go. Bye, Remy, g'luck."
As the line clicked Remy pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at. "Well dat was a rude way ta say good bye…" He then flicked the phone closed and placed it back in his jacket pocket before pocketing his cards standing up. Dropping down form the picnic bench he now stood on he removed the cancer stick from his lips and flicked the mostly gone cigarette towards the ground before heading to his bike.