You should definitely go to your music player, find Queen: Greatest Hits and play the song: Don't Stop Me Now while reading this.
Remy was lounging on the sun-warmed steps of the small park (no longer a swamp), stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles. His face, clad in sunglasses, was turned to the sunlight. He covertly watched Betsy through his lenses as she repaired the damage to the park; the damage Sinister inflicted on Remy's mind. She was doing a good job of cleaning up Sinister's mess, but Remy had some constructive criticism in mind.
"Are you just going to lounge around?" she asked, casting a glare at him over her shoulder. She wiped her forehead with her forearm. So, it took NOLA's heat to make this woman break a sweat.
Remy grinned at her. "Think my brain needs t'go to de gym. I'm gettin' tired just watching you work, Posh. But I'm afraid where my mind is concerned, neatness doesn't count."
Betsy put her hands on her hips again. She was wearing what might have been called a swimsuit, had they been on the beach. Remy had no complaints about her workwear other than the dark blue/purple was not his favorite color. He was pretty sure that based on the way Betsy was looking at him now, she had an idea about what he was thinking. Remy liked Betsy, she was fierce and direct. He just didn't trust her all that much. Something in her violet eyes reminded him of certain assassins he'd met. BellaDonna had Elizabeth Taylor eyes too, and was given to a particular kind of look when she was in "stalker-mode." But Belle's cold gaze would easily melt away into mischief and good humor. She was equally fierce as Betsy, despite Belle's tiny frame, which he'd describe as Kristen Chenowith meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Belle, though, he trusted not to stick a knife in his brain if he looked sideways at her. His thigh, yeah, maybe. But not his brain.
"Do you mean to leave all this rubbish strewn about?" Betsy finally said, pointing to the mixture of hurricane debris and actual garbage.
"It's part of de charm," Remy told her. "Don't yuck my yum."
"Eat garbage, do you?"
"Well, it's been awhile, but..."
Betsy would have said more if Jean had not appeared on the stairs beside Remy. She abruptly sat down beside him, looking tired. Jean, he did trust. She was sexy as hell and had a wild streak, he could tell. But she didn't parade about, advertising how amazing she was in all things. She had a way about her that drew people close, like a moth to a flame. If anything, she was a little too subtle about it for his taste.
"Hey, Red. How's tricks?" he casually asked though he was half-afraid of what she'd been up to all this time.
"My goodness," Jean said, wiping her fingers across her squeezed-tight shut eyelids. "It's hot here."
Remy, in his coat, shrugged.
"Were you successful?" Betsy asked.
Jean nodded, looked at Remy. "...So, there are a few things I need to tell you."
The southern wind, Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the leaves. Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day.
"Okay," Remy said out loud.
Jean regarded him solemnly for a moment, likely hearing his momentary lapse into iambic pentameter. She continued, too polite to call attention to his brain fart: "The first is that you've been moved to the infirmary."
"And...whyfor?"
"Hank needed to assist me, with some final details."
"You'd better not have stuck me wit' anything," Remy warned.
"Remy. I've severed some connections in your brain...left from right, to prevent you from accessing your full powers and abilities. I am...so sorry. Please, let me explain our reasoning."
Remy said nothing, and for a moment his spinning thoughts paused with bated breath.
"If Sinister were to reclaim you, we couldn't risk him assuming your powers. Betsy had put it in your mind that the sudden lack...was due to the, uhm...blow to the head you'd suffered last night," Jean continued. "Do you happen to recall how that happened?"
Remy shook his head 'no,' lying.
Jean continued: "And without your powers, Sinister might voluntarily abandon you. That was our plan. Our hope."
"So...am I just a reg'lar human now?" Remy asked slowly, fearfully.
Jean shook her head. "Hank wants to rerun some tests. You should be...as you were, perhaps when you were younger, in your nascent stage. Before your powers fully developed in your late teens, twenty, twenty-one. I'll have Hank explain."
"He'll need t'draw me a picture."
"He has a way with words," Jean smiled softly. "It looks like you and Betsy were successful though. It's possible...I could reconnect-."
"No!" Remy shouted. Then in a more civil tone said: "Non, merci bien."
"You're not...angry?"
"'Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted,'" Remy quoted.
Jean asked, confused: "What happened?"
"'He lived happily ever after,'" Remy replied.
Betsy strode over then, kicked the bottom of his boot. "On your feet, then, Wonka. Let's finish clearing this mess."
Remy grinned up at her. "I think I need workin' out music."
"I prefer to be alone with my thoughts while I work," Betsy said.
Remy popped to his feet. Ignoring her, he said: "I'm feelin'...like I'm on a bit of a Queen kick."
"Do not-," Betsy began, holding up a hand to forestall him. "Your range is a far cry from Freddie Mercury's."
"Like I ever let that… Stop me...Now..."
"Stop!"
"Don't. Stop me. Now!" Remy slowly descended the remaining stairs as he sang, tossed his coat on a nearby fence post.
Then faster: "'Cause I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time!" Remy imagined into being a man in an old fashioned three-piece suit on a nearby bench, who for whatever reason, was playing the spoons on his knee.
"I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky. Like a tiger...defying the laws of gra-vit-eee!" Remy seized Betsy by the wrists in either hand and pulled her into the street. Before she could kick him away, he released her and hopped into oncoming traffic.
"I'm a racing car, passing by-like Lady Godiva!" he sang, jumped up just as he was about to be struck by an oncoming cab and landed on the hood of the vehicle. "I'm gonna go, go, go...There's no stopping meeee!"
The female cab driver, her hair a deranged mess of gray screamed out the window at him: "Like I'd know anything about that! I mind my own bid'ness!"
Remy flipped over the taxi cab light, landed on the trunk of the car, and bounced off. "I'm burnin' through the skyyy...yeah! Two hundred degrees!" Leapt onto a passing streetcar and waved at Jean and Betsy as he jerkily rode down the street. "That's why they call me Mister Fahrenhe-height…! I'm travelin' at the speed of li-ight!"
Betsy and Jean barely broke a walk as they followed the trundling street car. He pointed at them: "I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!"
As he neared the turning at the Spanish Plaza, he hopped off the trolley. "Don't-stop-me now! I'm having such a good time! I'm having a ball!" A mass of revelers emerged from a casino, dressed in masks and beads, carrying cups of coins. They were met with a tourist group from a cruise ship. There were many open containers involved. Someone vomited.
Jean and Betsy caught up with him, and they hopped on a streetcar heading in the opposite direction. "Don't! Stop! Me now! If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call!" He made his thumb and pinky into a phone and pointed at a newlywed bride staring at them from the park gates, her bridegroom forgotten. She tossed her bouquet and Jean caught it.
"Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm having a good time! Don't stop me now, yes, I'm havin' a good time! I don't want to stop at aaaall!" Remy was hanging by the handrail far into the street. On the corner nearby, a fortune teller got into a heated argument with her lover in a black catsuit. The two women pulled one another's hair.
The trio was forced to disembark from the streetcar when an NOPD squad car pulled up from a side-street, siren giving two short squawks. Remy blew the officers a kiss as they stepped from the vehicle, then he turned and hopped off the opposite side of the trolley.
"Pursuing on foot," one of the officers said into his radio. Remy, Jean and Betsy were brought up short when a mounted officer suddenly appeared, and together they ran from the main drag into the French Quarter. They were forced to dodge through several costumed street performers and a pair of dueling mimes.
"Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars! On a collision course! I am a satellite...I'm out of control!"
Finding themselves now in front of a cemetery, they were joined by a group of mourners departing through the gates. At first, the crowd appeared quite sad, but then a brass band began to play, umbrellas were raised, and everyone started dancing.
"I am a sex machine!" Remy announced. "Ready to reload! Like an atom bomb about to...oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explooode!"
Several zombies emerged from the crypts to perform a move or two from Thriller.
"I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees. That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit! I'm travelin' at the speed of li-ight. I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!" Here he seized Jean and dipped her low to the ground, attempted to kiss her, and was met with a sudden burst of flame.
Remy exhaled smoke. "Oh, fiery!"
"Don't stop me, don't stop me! Havin' a good time, good time. Don't stop me, don't stop me. Oo oo oo!" the backup dancers sang as Lestat performed a guitar solo atop one of the crypts while Louis somberly held a huge black umbrella over both their heads to block the sun.
"Ooh, I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees! That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I'm travelin' at the speed of li-ight. I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!"
A mule bearing an open cab appeared, and the three climbed on board. Remy seized the mule's top hat and donned it. "C'mon, Posh! Humor me! Don't-stop-me now! I'm having such a good time! I'm having a ball!"
Betsy took over the reins from the driver and the mule started off at a brisk pace. The riders were nearly ejected as the cab traveled over the broken cobblestones in the street. The driver cut his losses and leapt from his seat.
"Don't stop me now!" Singing as they rode back into the Garden District. Stray beads of Mardi Gras parties long past hung limply from tree limbs and streetlamps. "If you wanna have a good time!"
Betsy said: "Whoo!"
"Just give me a call!"
Jean said: "Alright!" and rolled her eyes.
Fully committed now, they all sang: "Don't stop me now! 'Cause we're havin' a good time! Don't stop me now! Yes, we're havin' a good time!"
Betsy stopped the cab before the park where she had originally encountered Remy in the tree. The park was no longer flooded, but full of people seated on benches, playing fetch with dogs, picnicking on blankets in the sunshine. Remy seemed to be winding down now: "I don't want to stop at aaalll…."
Remy meandered over to the circular fountain at the park's center, hopped up on the rim and wandered its circumference. "La...dadadadada aaa lalada haha haaa!"
"Do you have that out of your system?" Betsy asked.
"I think things are back in order now," Remy told her, he plopped himself down on the fountain's retainer wall.
Jean sat beside him, still holding her bouquet. "You have your club back up and running?" she asked.
"Weh," Remy nodded, while watching the house across the street.
"And the bank is closed," Betsy affirmed. "I'm afraid you'll have to find a different way to manage your assets."
"I suppose," Remy said, noncommittally. The front door of the house opened. A woman stepped onto the front porch. She waved, probably summoning him for dinner.
Remy waved back.
"And this is how you want to leave things?" Betsy asked, giving a general indication of their surroundings.
Remy pushed his sunglasses back onto his forehead, his hat now askew. "Dis is how we leave things," he confirmed.
Betsy nodded. "I'll see you back in reality," she said.
"Y'all come on back now, y'hear?" Remy said, country twang style, then added: "Whenever you're in de mood for a good time, anyway."
Betsy shook her head. "I've never been so frightened in my life."
She disappeared.
"Are you alright?" Jean asked quietly.
"Right as rain," Remy smiled at her.
She nodded. "If you ever need to talk, I might have some idea of what you're going through. See you soon."
Jean vanished as well. Now alone, Remy tilted his head back to look at the sky. A cloud crept by. People began to leave the park, heading for the safety of their homes. Raindrops pattered down, causing the water surface in the fountain to jump. The walkways darkened with drops. Remy closed his eyes. His face grew wet.
Next time: Bedside manners.
Random References:
The southern wind, Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the leaves. Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. - Henry IV, Shakespeare, various portents of doom.
"Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted." - Willy Wonka, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
"Like I'd know anything about that! I mind my own bid'ness!" - my insane taxi driver in New Orleans, who caused me to believe I was about to die. Word to the wise, the less said to them, the better. In fact, call an Uber instead.
Fortune teller got into a heated argument with her lover in a black catsuit. - actually witnessed in Jersey, not NOLA
Y'all come on back now, y'hear - Hee Haw
Guest reviewer: Yes, the sequel will continue immediately after this story is finished. There will be no commercial interruption. And thank you kindly for your note!
OK folks, looks like sexy and romance is neck-and-neck. Maybe I'll just go with sexy romance. Also, you might've dodged a bullet not voting for an action sequence, because it was really just Gambit and Wolverine bro-ing out, chopping things up, and blowing shit up.