Author's Note
Just some replies to my reviewers to show my appreciation.
MagnusXXN - Trust me, Remy is not going to hide out and take everything lying down forever. I like him too much for that.
DedRedHed - I hear and try to obey. By the way, yes I hate Jean. I hate her in the comics, the cartoons, and the movies. How could you tell? ;-)
Funny thing is, though, I liked Madelyne. Go figure.
GelliBean - Thank you for the compliment. I'm glad you like my characterizations.
Nari1 - I'm glad you like my writing. It mean's a lot to me. I am planning for Rogue to show up in here eventually. However, she's not going to be written any nicer than Jean. Fair warning to Rogue fans.
samson - I'm glad you like the pace. That was one reason it took me so long to even start this. The two of them have almost no interaction in the comics so I had to think of a situation for them to even be talking.
Ethix - Thank you. I've never seen a Remy/Betsy story either but I'm a fan of both and they're both gorgeous, so...here we are.
Xx-disturbed-xX - I'm beginning to think you're my biggest fan. Cool. Thank you for the encouragement.
Missmishka - All I can say is patience is a good thing. (Unless I'm the one that has to be patient) There will be smut.
Elizabeth Braddock-Grey - Gee, how'd you get the idea I don't like that nice stuck-up Angel? Could it be the fact Betsy ends up dumping him when I write? ;-)
To tell the truth, I'm not real fond of any of the original five X-men. Probably not much of a surprise to anyone.
Ok, mail call's over, here's the real reason you clicked on this link:
**************************************************************************** ********************************************************
Chapter Seven
Betsy smiled in pleasure as the wind blew through her hair, the roadside passing at breakneck speeds. It reminded her of when she was younger, when her older brother, Jamie, would take her out for spins in his latest overpriced, built for speed toy. He would place her on his lap and work the accelerator and clutch while she steered, tearing up back English roads at speeds well over 100. She missed those days. She missed Jamie. Unfortunately, he had disappeared into Africa while she was still in school, before Slaymaster, Mojo, even before her twin, Brian, took the title Captain Britain.
She stopped that line of thought immediately. Now was not the time to think about such things. She was supposed to be helping Remy, not mourning her own past. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned her attention to enjoying the ride, still smiling as he pulled to a stop in front of an old, dusty building.
There was a wide assortment of vehicles in front, ranging from trucks to bikes, though none of them as expensive as Remy's. Parking off to the side, he waited for her to slide off the bike before dismounting confidently and taking on a role as easily as others pull on a comfortable coat. Gone was the unsure and broken X-man and in his place stood an overconfident rich boy.
Betsy mentally laughed as she lay her hand on his proffered arm. She had wondered how he was going to run a con with her present. After all, usually the trick to this kind of con was to look down on your luck and harmless. In his tight, worn clothes, Remy could have pulled it off alone but it would have been impossible with her on his arm. Although Betsy had not dressed up, she had not dressed down either. Her clothes were stylish and hand tailored to fit her exactly, obviously expensive. Therefore, the usual was most definitely out.
Instead, Remy led her towards the entrance wearing an extremely arrogant expression and carrying an air of superiority which more than offset his clothing and Betsy picked up on his ploy quickly. Instead of playing the down-on-his-luck hustler wooing the fat pigeons in by playing backward and dumb, Remy was going in as an overconfident rich boy, just a ripe pigeon for the plucking. It was a role certain to draw out the hustlers who would be quite surprised at finding themselves hustled, if all went to plan.
Smiling in anticipation of the coming entertainment, Betsy fell into a role complimentary to the slumming rich boy role Remy had donned. She smiled up at him with an admiring but decidedly vacant stare, while looking down her nose at anything else her gaze fell on. From the looks they were receiving, it would not take long before they were approached by a thug looking for trouble or a pool shark looking for money.
Sure enough, a small man with a long nose and short spiky hair quickly approached and tried to subtly strike up a conversation with Remy while discreetly looking Betsy over. He failed at both subtle and discreet but it did not matter. He was just the type the two of them had been looking for so Betsy pretended to be oblivious to the man's leers while Remy let himself be 'lured' into a game of pool.
She could not help giving him a sharp stare as he spoke. His manner of speech, posture, even his walk had changed to match the role he was playing. He still had his accent but it was nowhere near as thick as usual, nor did he refer to himself in the third person. The changes were so subtle yet so thorough, that Betsy began to wonder if she would even have recognized him if she had not come in with him.
He noticed her surprised look as they began to follow the man to the pool table and smiled at her bemusedly. However, there was a definite spark of mischief and laughter deep in his eyes when he kissed her hand, looking up at her over his dark sunglasses... "Do not worry, chere, I will simply beat this individual in a few games. We will still make our appointment for dinner at your pere's club."
Remy was laughing at her. She knew it but did not mind. It was nice to see his unique eyes come alive again. They had been so dead that morning in the danger room, she had honestly been afraid for his life. Quickly pasting an overly bright but somewhat vacant smile on her face, she quickly resumed her role. "I hope so. You still have to change your clothes and Daddy will be so upset if we're late. You know how he frets, why if he knew you had brought me here..." She peered around her disdainfully once again.
"But, chere, think of the story you can tell your friends. I'm sure Feffie never went to a place like this."
Betsy noticed that the more he spoke, the more he sounded French while she was sounding more and more like a simpering debutante and she smiled, enjoying the game. Painting a look of exaggerated dismay on her face, she looked at the dusty seats near the table. Remy responded by gallantly draping his trench coat over one of the chairs for her and Betsy perched on the very edge, her expression changing to bored as she pretended to examine her fingernails.
In reality, Betsy meant to keep an eye on the people around the table. Men like the one Remy was playing against sometimes had muscle to back them up. Even if Remy's pigeon did not have any back up, the roles the two of them were playing were synonymous with target in this situation. It would not be surprising if some bully boy decided to horn in and cause problems. Of course, the potential for danger was part of the fun.
The first three games went the expected route. Remy won inexpertly as both he and his opponent worked to hide their skill. It was all part of the game. If the shark showed his skill too early, he believed he would scare Remy off. This left Remy in a doubly difficult position. If he showed his own skill, he would scare the shark off, plus he had to gauge just how much skill the other man was hiding. It was an interesting game of bluffing and skill and soon Betsy forgot to watch out for trouble as she became enthralled in the mental game in front of her.
Before the fourth game, Remy played the time card. He announced that he had to leave to make their appointment. The shark reacted in traditional fashion, appealing to fair play that Remy should give him one more chance to get his money back. Remy countered that there was no point. The shark would lose as he had already done three times and there was no challenge in it. The small man leaped on the statement, offering to double the bet and phrasing it as a challenge that Remy could not back down from without being though less of by the gathered men. The Cajun responded with, of course, outrage and taking great insult at the turn of phrase before he angrily demanded the table be set up again then turned to Betsy.
"Don't worry, chere, we'll still get to your pere's club on time. This won't take long."
Betsy sighed and rolled her eyes as expected and she thought for a moment that she felt him laughing inside her mind. The moment passed quickly and Betsy did not have time to consider it as the next game started. This game was more mentally intense than the previous ones. The mind games continued as the shark revealed his skill and Remy worked to keep his own skill still hidden. He played at being angry and frustrated without seeming outraged while the shark became more arrogant as he finished off the table and gathered his newly won money.
Now for the endgame. Remy had to lure the shark in for one more game to finish this off. He acted frustrated and angry, trying to provoke a game but not a fight. It was a fine line to walk. The insults had to be carefully chosen to push the other man into anger but not fury. The bet was also upped until it became triple the previous amount and this too was part of the mind games. If Remy tried to up it too soon, the man would laugh and leave but if he went to slow, he cheated himself out of winnings.
It took several minutes but the small man finally agreed to a fifth game, laughing confidently and already mentally spending his anticipated wealth. At least he did until Remy ran the table, winning in record time and scooping up the money. His pigeon quickly realized he had been played and she could sense the shark's mind becoming angry and violent. That was a cue for them to make a quick exit so Betsy immediately handed Remy his coat. The thief donned it just as quickly, secreting the money in one of its many pockets before taking her arm. With a quick, "Bon nuit 'nd t'anks for de game," they headed for the door.
It turned out that Betsy had been right earlier and the shark did use back up because two large muscle bound thugs moved to block their. A crowd quickly gathered to watch how the lean, fake rich-boy was going to get past the large gorillas while Remy moved to square off against them, moving in front of Betsy. The maneuver was gallant but somewhat insulting. She did not need protection so she hissed, "I can look after myself."
"Oui, so can Remy. But, we don't know notin' 'bout fightin' toget'er. Just get in de ot'er's way. Remy take de gorillas, you take der little ami, 'nd we get outta here." He took his eyes off his approaching opponents long enough to flash her another grin. "'Sides, t'ought dis was to cheer Remy up so why you tryin' to get in on his fun?"
No more was said as Remy launched himself at his two opponents, catching the larger one in the jaw with a jump kick. Spinning as he landed, Remy caught the other one in the throat with a ridge hand before launching a side kick into the first man's knee. The joint broke under the assault causing the thug to fall to the ground. The second man was still stnading but slightly bent over, trying to breathe, when Remy laid him out with an uppercut.
The small man they had played pool with pushed back Betsy, trying to bring a gun to bear on the quickly moving Cajun. Betsy grabbed the outstretched arm and painfully twisted it behind the shark's back. Pulling the wrist higher, she made him release the pistol then used it to pistol whip the man across the back of his head, causing him to slump to the ground unconscious. Running out of the bar, the two of them quickly mounted Remy's bike and, within moments, they were roaring down the highway at break neck speeds.
******************************
AN-The name Feffie above is not made up. I knew someone whose parents actually gave her that nickname. It just seemed perfect for the section so I used it.
Just some replies to my reviewers to show my appreciation.
MagnusXXN - Trust me, Remy is not going to hide out and take everything lying down forever. I like him too much for that.
DedRedHed - I hear and try to obey. By the way, yes I hate Jean. I hate her in the comics, the cartoons, and the movies. How could you tell? ;-)
Funny thing is, though, I liked Madelyne. Go figure.
GelliBean - Thank you for the compliment. I'm glad you like my characterizations.
Nari1 - I'm glad you like my writing. It mean's a lot to me. I am planning for Rogue to show up in here eventually. However, she's not going to be written any nicer than Jean. Fair warning to Rogue fans.
samson - I'm glad you like the pace. That was one reason it took me so long to even start this. The two of them have almost no interaction in the comics so I had to think of a situation for them to even be talking.
Ethix - Thank you. I've never seen a Remy/Betsy story either but I'm a fan of both and they're both gorgeous, so...here we are.
Xx-disturbed-xX - I'm beginning to think you're my biggest fan. Cool. Thank you for the encouragement.
Missmishka - All I can say is patience is a good thing. (Unless I'm the one that has to be patient) There will be smut.
Elizabeth Braddock-Grey - Gee, how'd you get the idea I don't like that nice stuck-up Angel? Could it be the fact Betsy ends up dumping him when I write? ;-)
To tell the truth, I'm not real fond of any of the original five X-men. Probably not much of a surprise to anyone.
Ok, mail call's over, here's the real reason you clicked on this link:
**************************************************************************** ********************************************************
Chapter Seven
Betsy smiled in pleasure as the wind blew through her hair, the roadside passing at breakneck speeds. It reminded her of when she was younger, when her older brother, Jamie, would take her out for spins in his latest overpriced, built for speed toy. He would place her on his lap and work the accelerator and clutch while she steered, tearing up back English roads at speeds well over 100. She missed those days. She missed Jamie. Unfortunately, he had disappeared into Africa while she was still in school, before Slaymaster, Mojo, even before her twin, Brian, took the title Captain Britain.
She stopped that line of thought immediately. Now was not the time to think about such things. She was supposed to be helping Remy, not mourning her own past. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned her attention to enjoying the ride, still smiling as he pulled to a stop in front of an old, dusty building.
There was a wide assortment of vehicles in front, ranging from trucks to bikes, though none of them as expensive as Remy's. Parking off to the side, he waited for her to slide off the bike before dismounting confidently and taking on a role as easily as others pull on a comfortable coat. Gone was the unsure and broken X-man and in his place stood an overconfident rich boy.
Betsy mentally laughed as she lay her hand on his proffered arm. She had wondered how he was going to run a con with her present. After all, usually the trick to this kind of con was to look down on your luck and harmless. In his tight, worn clothes, Remy could have pulled it off alone but it would have been impossible with her on his arm. Although Betsy had not dressed up, she had not dressed down either. Her clothes were stylish and hand tailored to fit her exactly, obviously expensive. Therefore, the usual was most definitely out.
Instead, Remy led her towards the entrance wearing an extremely arrogant expression and carrying an air of superiority which more than offset his clothing and Betsy picked up on his ploy quickly. Instead of playing the down-on-his-luck hustler wooing the fat pigeons in by playing backward and dumb, Remy was going in as an overconfident rich boy, just a ripe pigeon for the plucking. It was a role certain to draw out the hustlers who would be quite surprised at finding themselves hustled, if all went to plan.
Smiling in anticipation of the coming entertainment, Betsy fell into a role complimentary to the slumming rich boy role Remy had donned. She smiled up at him with an admiring but decidedly vacant stare, while looking down her nose at anything else her gaze fell on. From the looks they were receiving, it would not take long before they were approached by a thug looking for trouble or a pool shark looking for money.
Sure enough, a small man with a long nose and short spiky hair quickly approached and tried to subtly strike up a conversation with Remy while discreetly looking Betsy over. He failed at both subtle and discreet but it did not matter. He was just the type the two of them had been looking for so Betsy pretended to be oblivious to the man's leers while Remy let himself be 'lured' into a game of pool.
She could not help giving him a sharp stare as he spoke. His manner of speech, posture, even his walk had changed to match the role he was playing. He still had his accent but it was nowhere near as thick as usual, nor did he refer to himself in the third person. The changes were so subtle yet so thorough, that Betsy began to wonder if she would even have recognized him if she had not come in with him.
He noticed her surprised look as they began to follow the man to the pool table and smiled at her bemusedly. However, there was a definite spark of mischief and laughter deep in his eyes when he kissed her hand, looking up at her over his dark sunglasses... "Do not worry, chere, I will simply beat this individual in a few games. We will still make our appointment for dinner at your pere's club."
Remy was laughing at her. She knew it but did not mind. It was nice to see his unique eyes come alive again. They had been so dead that morning in the danger room, she had honestly been afraid for his life. Quickly pasting an overly bright but somewhat vacant smile on her face, she quickly resumed her role. "I hope so. You still have to change your clothes and Daddy will be so upset if we're late. You know how he frets, why if he knew you had brought me here..." She peered around her disdainfully once again.
"But, chere, think of the story you can tell your friends. I'm sure Feffie never went to a place like this."
Betsy noticed that the more he spoke, the more he sounded French while she was sounding more and more like a simpering debutante and she smiled, enjoying the game. Painting a look of exaggerated dismay on her face, she looked at the dusty seats near the table. Remy responded by gallantly draping his trench coat over one of the chairs for her and Betsy perched on the very edge, her expression changing to bored as she pretended to examine her fingernails.
In reality, Betsy meant to keep an eye on the people around the table. Men like the one Remy was playing against sometimes had muscle to back them up. Even if Remy's pigeon did not have any back up, the roles the two of them were playing were synonymous with target in this situation. It would not be surprising if some bully boy decided to horn in and cause problems. Of course, the potential for danger was part of the fun.
The first three games went the expected route. Remy won inexpertly as both he and his opponent worked to hide their skill. It was all part of the game. If the shark showed his skill too early, he believed he would scare Remy off. This left Remy in a doubly difficult position. If he showed his own skill, he would scare the shark off, plus he had to gauge just how much skill the other man was hiding. It was an interesting game of bluffing and skill and soon Betsy forgot to watch out for trouble as she became enthralled in the mental game in front of her.
Before the fourth game, Remy played the time card. He announced that he had to leave to make their appointment. The shark reacted in traditional fashion, appealing to fair play that Remy should give him one more chance to get his money back. Remy countered that there was no point. The shark would lose as he had already done three times and there was no challenge in it. The small man leaped on the statement, offering to double the bet and phrasing it as a challenge that Remy could not back down from without being though less of by the gathered men. The Cajun responded with, of course, outrage and taking great insult at the turn of phrase before he angrily demanded the table be set up again then turned to Betsy.
"Don't worry, chere, we'll still get to your pere's club on time. This won't take long."
Betsy sighed and rolled her eyes as expected and she thought for a moment that she felt him laughing inside her mind. The moment passed quickly and Betsy did not have time to consider it as the next game started. This game was more mentally intense than the previous ones. The mind games continued as the shark revealed his skill and Remy worked to keep his own skill still hidden. He played at being angry and frustrated without seeming outraged while the shark became more arrogant as he finished off the table and gathered his newly won money.
Now for the endgame. Remy had to lure the shark in for one more game to finish this off. He acted frustrated and angry, trying to provoke a game but not a fight. It was a fine line to walk. The insults had to be carefully chosen to push the other man into anger but not fury. The bet was also upped until it became triple the previous amount and this too was part of the mind games. If Remy tried to up it too soon, the man would laugh and leave but if he went to slow, he cheated himself out of winnings.
It took several minutes but the small man finally agreed to a fifth game, laughing confidently and already mentally spending his anticipated wealth. At least he did until Remy ran the table, winning in record time and scooping up the money. His pigeon quickly realized he had been played and she could sense the shark's mind becoming angry and violent. That was a cue for them to make a quick exit so Betsy immediately handed Remy his coat. The thief donned it just as quickly, secreting the money in one of its many pockets before taking her arm. With a quick, "Bon nuit 'nd t'anks for de game," they headed for the door.
It turned out that Betsy had been right earlier and the shark did use back up because two large muscle bound thugs moved to block their. A crowd quickly gathered to watch how the lean, fake rich-boy was going to get past the large gorillas while Remy moved to square off against them, moving in front of Betsy. The maneuver was gallant but somewhat insulting. She did not need protection so she hissed, "I can look after myself."
"Oui, so can Remy. But, we don't know notin' 'bout fightin' toget'er. Just get in de ot'er's way. Remy take de gorillas, you take der little ami, 'nd we get outta here." He took his eyes off his approaching opponents long enough to flash her another grin. "'Sides, t'ought dis was to cheer Remy up so why you tryin' to get in on his fun?"
No more was said as Remy launched himself at his two opponents, catching the larger one in the jaw with a jump kick. Spinning as he landed, Remy caught the other one in the throat with a ridge hand before launching a side kick into the first man's knee. The joint broke under the assault causing the thug to fall to the ground. The second man was still stnading but slightly bent over, trying to breathe, when Remy laid him out with an uppercut.
The small man they had played pool with pushed back Betsy, trying to bring a gun to bear on the quickly moving Cajun. Betsy grabbed the outstretched arm and painfully twisted it behind the shark's back. Pulling the wrist higher, she made him release the pistol then used it to pistol whip the man across the back of his head, causing him to slump to the ground unconscious. Running out of the bar, the two of them quickly mounted Remy's bike and, within moments, they were roaring down the highway at break neck speeds.
******************************
AN-The name Feffie above is not made up. I knew someone whose parents actually gave her that nickname. It just seemed perfect for the section so I used it.