War of the Dragon
Chapter 6 – "My Lovely Man"
Azrael created by Dennis O'Neil and Joe Quesada
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Rain, Jean Paul thought, Just perfect.
It was 6:59 p.m., Central European Summer Time, and Jean Paul Valley sat perched on a rooftop directly opposite the address on the Crimson Fox's card. He was in Azrael's uniform, but the angel in question was strangely absent from Jean Paul's mind.
I didn't expect him to disappear like this, Jean Paul thought to himself, It's sort of disconcerting after having a constant companion for this long. It's also kind of nice, come to think of it.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of his skull Jean Paul thought he heard a mental "harrumph," but he couldn't quite tell. Still, it was almost 7; time to bite the bullet and keep his appointment. In one motion he raised his arm and fired a grapnel line, then swung across the chasm between buildings to land on the balcony.
Landing, Jean Paul took quick stock of the situation. There was a glass door that led from the balcony into the apartment proper, and several very green plants sitting on the balcony itself. There were also long scratches in the granite of the balcony, scratches that looked suspiciously like what steel grapnel lines would leave if they were often draped across the balcony.
Well, at least I now know for certain that she doesn't fly. Jean Paul smiled under his mask. That's a load off my mind.
He reached out and rapped upon the door's glass, lightly at first and then harder, until he saw movement on the other side. The door pulled into the room, and in its place stood a vision of loveliness framed in red hair and wearing a simple black dress with pearls.
"Well I do declare," she breathed in a very horrible French-affected Southern Belle imitation. "But it appears as though an Angel landed on my balcony."
She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes wash over him, then giggled and quickly turned away. "Right on time, as well. I do so love a man who is punctual." She stopped just inside the room, and turned to face him again. "Well, are you planning on spending the entire evening on my balcony, or would you like to join me inside?"
Jean Paul stood fully, not even realizing that he had still been perched on the rail of the balcony, and dropped down into the doorway. "But of course, ma'am," he attempted in his best John Wayne, "I'd love to join you inside."
She giggled again, then pointed at the garment bag slung over his shoulder. "I see you came prepared, my Angel."
Jean Paul smiled warmly. Then, realizing she couldn't see him smiling, he reached up to remove his helmet with one hand. "I didn't know if you would recognize me if I showed up at your front door in this," he motioned at the garment bag.
A smile crept across her face as his helmet came off. She was pleasantly surprised at the boyish good looks and long blonde locks that spilled out onto the collar of his uniform. "I would have known," she smiled quizzically, "But this way is more, how do you say? Intimate."
Face reddening, Jean Paul tried his best to continue to look her in the eye when his every impulse was to stare at the tips of his shoes. "Do you have somewhere I can change?"
She reached out and ran a black silk-gloved hand down his cheek, the blush rising even higher as she did so. "Yes, my cute little angel, right this way."
Somewhere in the seedier side of Paris, a beaten, bedraggled man stepped in front of a makeshift throne, taking to one knee.
"What news, Genet?" a deep voice boomed from the throne.
Genet looked up, his master's voice making him cringe. He knew he didn't have good news, and was afraid of his master's reaction.
"The man, my lord. The man in the golden armor," he finally managed to croak.
The dark man on the throne leaned forward, his face still hidden in shadow. "And what of this armored fool?"
"He is still here, with the Fox, my lord." Pierre shrank back a little further from the foot of the throne.
"That is not pleasing," the voice intoned. "What is it they are doing?"
"Unless our spies are mistaken, lord, it appears they're headed out for an evening at the opera."
In the darkness, the man smiled. "Let them enjoy their evening, then, Pierre. We shall worry them later."
Pierre breathed a sigh of relief as he began to rise, thinking himself dismissed. Just as he began to turn, a long white arm shot out of nowhere and grasped him about the throat.
"But do keep me posted."
The night had been a whirl for Jean Paul. They had started the night at Carre des Feuillants on Rue De Castiglione, then traveled to the Garnier Opera House to watch La Bohème together. It was a whirl, and it was more than Jean Paul ever dreamed for a first evening together.
Was this an actual date? he wondered, Because now I'm really confused.
Their taxi pulled up in front of her building, and they stepped out into the night air. «Will you be joining me for a nightcap?» she asked in French.
«I would love to,» Jean Paul replied. Especially since my armor is still in your apartment...But she knows that, right? I'm so confused.
The doorman wore a slight smile as he ushered them into the building. The young boy running the elevator smiled as well. I get the feeling they're used to her bringing men up, so this isn't something super special for her. He looked over at her in the elevator, and she smiled up at him very sweetly. Oh, I'm so confused..
The elevator opened at the top floor. «We're here, Miss D'aramis.»
Jean Paul tipped the young man as Vivian moved to unlock the door to her apartment. She turned and smiled at him coyly, holding the door open just slightly.
Welcome to my lair, said the spider to the fly he thought, stepping through after her.
Next Time: Popcorn and Peanuts