- Okay. Well, I'm new to this, but here I go. Reading, reviewing, and constructive criticism most welcome. I'm using a translator, so let me know if I butcher any French! Working off of character base that doesn't go along with the comics at all, so bear with me. And am I getting those accents right?!
- Disclaimer: Not my characters. I don't like lawsuits. Please don't present me with one. This isn't for profit. (Would you pay for it? I didn't think so. ^_^ )
"Give it back." The girl was clearly angry, green eyes snapping with emotion that was even visible to the him, watching from some distance away. The dark lenses cast the whole scene in shadow, four boys ranged in loose semi-circle around a slender girl.
"Aw look, the slut-spawn's angry. I'm soooo scared." The leader of the boys taunted, swinging a delicate silver necklace and charm away from the dark-haired girl. His comrades laughed.
Miton High School students had officially been out of school a whole hour. These particular boys were always together, lounging around and making trouble. Eighteen year olds or no, maturity wise they might as well have been ten grades back- but no one argued with them. A gang was a gang, and survival is something children learn well. Stay out of Andrew Pearson's way.
Pearson and his friends certainly hadn't hesitated to jeer at Miton's newest student- a rough, tangle-haired kid that refused to take a pair of dark, dark sunglasses from his eyes. From Louisiana, and the accent to prove it, and everyone knows that Freckle-Face Pearson (that was what they called him behind his back) couldn't resist an accent.
Remy LeBeau watched the dark haired girl's hands clench into fists from the shadows the school building cast some distance away. "Give it back, you slimy son of a-"
"Oh, the bitch-slut's callin' names, now! What'll yer momma sa-" He didn't even get a chance to finish his sentence. The girl was moving. The boys, hardly expecting physical retaliation from the petite brunette, watched in shock as the girl delivered an admirable right hook to Freckle's chin, knocking him backward. "You keep yer mouth off my mother, you-" her language deteriorated from there.
From his shadows, Remy chuckled. Dat fille got spunk, for certain. Freckle was so surprised he could only raise his arms in automatic defense as the girl pummeled him with her fists. The uproar was unnoticed- the back field of the school was hardly a popular hang out, and Miton was not a well-off or well-attended school. As far as he knew, Remy was the only witness to this oh-so-satisfying beating.
But he'd known from the beginning how it was gonna end. Freckle's three friends were already pulling the girl off their leader, the biggest giving her a shove that sent her sprawling.
Pearson got unsteadily to his feet, throwing his friends' hands away. Remy sneered from his shadows. Lily-livered sonova-
"Hit me, will you, slut." Pearson used the back of his hand on his mouth, and it came away bloody. The dark-haired girl had rolled up onto her knees, and was rising when the kick got her in the gut and sent her back down again. "Bitch." Male pride wounded, Freckle kicked her again, ending another effort to rise.
"Get away from her." The unfeeling dark lenses reflected four startled male faces his way. Remy hadn't even recalled making the conscious decision to move, but suddenly he found himself a few yards away, casual stance on the field's winter starved grass.
"Well, if it isn't no-eyes. Mardis Gras already, loser?" Freckle-Face sneered, turning briefly away from the girl on the ground.
"Non. If it was Mardis Gras, Freckles, dere's no way Ah'd be wastin' mah valuable time wit a moron like yahself," Behind the glasses and tangled red bangs, the kid raised an eyebrow. "One more time. Get away from her."
"Two days and you've already got a piece of this, Bayou boy?" Pearson jeered, the other three boys turning completely to face him as they laughed. Andrew reached down and took a handful of the thick black hair, yanking the girl's head back roughly.
A muffled sound of pain from the girl's lips set a fire deep in Remy's core, and if the boys had thought to look hard enough, a faint smudge of scarlet even leaked through the dark glasses. And then he was on the first boy, dropping him in a sucker punch to the chin and a knee in his gut. "So much of a coward you can't get no lady's attention any other way, Freckles?" asked Remy, as the first boy's varsity jacket acquired a grass stain.
Spoke too soon. One of the others came up behind him, grabbing both arms and yanking back. Pearson got close enough to land a good punch on his face before Remy could find enough leeway to deliver a sharp kick to his groin and an elbow to the one having trouble keeping his arms.
The Cajun wheeled, ready to deal with the last, when the boy's eyes widened, and he stumbled back from his advance. "Holy shit…"
Remy was confused a whole half-a-moment until he realized- the punch had knocked off the glasses. The other boys, too, were stumbling painfully to their feet. "He's a fuckin' mutie," one muttered. A moment longer facing the tall, rag tag boy with fire eyes, and the boys turned, and ran.
At least dese devil's eyes be worth somethin', Remy thought, bitterly, turning back toward the girl.
She coughed once, rising again to her knees, dark hair falling down over her face. "You all right, chere?"
"My necklace," came the gasped response. Capable arms lifted her gently upward by the shoulders, sitting her back on her heels. " 'Ere, chere, don' be worryin', c'est ici." The hand was half-gloved, and it pressed cool metal into her own palm, and Remy watched as she let her fingers curl over it. A kick in the stomach was no joke, and she must have been hurting a bit.
Her next words were quiet after a pained groan. "Thank you." She looked up.