Authors note: This is what I think would happen if Remy could charge
animate objects. I figure this would be how he found out about his powers.
R&R please.
Disclaimer: Remy doesn't belong to me. Pierre doesn't either. Andre and John do, but I'm nice so you can take them if you feel like it. I never liked them anyway. Please don't sue me; unless you want pocket lint, then you can go ahead. I'd win though.
"It's wort' at least twice dat and you know it!" Remy shouted, clasping the gold watch in his small hand and glaring up at Andre Deluc, hopefully for the last time. It had been almost a week since he had tried to pick the pocket of Jean-Luc LeBeau and gotten much more than he had ever hoped for.
He had a nice place now, really nice, and he was even beginning to think of Jean-Luc and Henri and the others as his family. He had all but given up thieving completely. Thieving without adult permission anyway. He just had this one last piece, taken from an antique store about a week ago, and he would be done with his old life. Including the increasingly volatile fence standing before him, t'ank de lord! I'll never see dat ugly face again. De man's had it out f'r me since I was a pup, couldn't bully me like de others.
Andre growled and shook his head. "No deal short-stuff, I ain't no fool. Dat watch be wort' no more'n de forty I offered for it and you ain't getting a penny more!" He scowled even more. Enacting the expression he called the 'done deal stare'. It had yet to fail to get even the most dangerous of his 'consigners' (as he called them) to agree to the price he asked, if not less.
The Stare, however, failed to faze the ten-year-old standing in front of him. Remy stared back and narrowed his eyes a little in the way that he knew made Father Bentley at the church on Forth street rant about demons and throw holy water at him. Don't t'ink bout Bentley. Remy ordered himself, remembering the last time he had seen the Father, delivering a sermon on 'the monsters of the modern world' as he and a few churchgoers kicked him into unconsciousness.
Andre tried to stare the boy down, gazing deeply into Remy eyes, but they were just so weird. Down right uncanny. Andre had never seen anything like them and at the moment he would be very happy to never see them again. Red- on-black bored into his face, making him feel as if the boy were reading his mind, or tryin' to blow me up. Never know what dos muties can do. Still he couldn't pay that much for the watch, not if he was going to pay that last poker game at Pierre's. Guild t'ief my âne. De man don't got de connections of a dead frog. He can sure play poker d'ough. Still, no way was he going to let this little amateur run off with his gambling money. Not when Pierre was so close to John Dupont the freelance assassin. Even if the boy was staring at him like he was plotting Andre's death.
Andre looked away first and a triumphant smile flickered across Remy's face. "De sign at de store say ninety dollars! An' it was reduced!" Remy yelled, for emphasis of course, he knew that Andre was in the bag already. Remy's stare always did that to people. Although Andre was annoyingly immune to Remy's charm power.
Remy was already celebrating his victory when something changed in the air. A shift in Andre's emotions, one of the many he had felt in the past few weeks. Like when the woman he was already calling Tante Mattie was angry at Jean-Luc for three whole days. And when Henri had been really happy after coming home with a bag of something he refused to show Remy. Remy never knew how or why it happened but it did, maybe it had something to do with his eyes, people were always interested in his eyes. What he did know was that Andre was very, very, very, angry all of a sudden.
"I'll show you boy!" Andre growled. Reaching down and grabbing Remy by the wrist he began dragging him towards the back door and out into a courtyard, picking something up from a table by the door. Remy tried to pull away, panicking fast. Andre Deluc might not be a very smart man, but he was very big, and Remy knew for a fact that he collected guns. "You'n me are going to go have un petite chat wit' Monsieur Dupont neh?" After all Andre was very close to Pierre.
"Non! Let go of moi!" Remy tried every trick he knew to get out of Andre's hold but the man was too big and his anger and (for some strange reason) fear were hurting Remy, he didn't know other people's emotions could hurt.
"Or maybe we save de good man some trouble non?" Said Andre as he cocked a gun and pointed it at Remy's head.
"Non!" Remy shouted again, running under the gun and grabbing the fence by his bare arm. Remy didn't know what he was going to do but he wasn't about to die at age ten, not when he had just found a family and a place to belong. Suddenly a wave of heat engulfed his hands, sending a warm tingling sensation up and down his arms. He opened his eyes when no shot rang out, having unconsciously closed them, to see that Andre was glowing, and brilliant red that covered every inch of him, cloths, skin, hair and all. Remy let out a scream and ran to the door.
With his hand on the knob, Remy doubled over in a wash of pain and fear. Andre's emotions, which had been strong enough to hurt earlier, were now overpowering Remy's own. He was afraid, and startled, but most of all he was in pain. He was burning, no boiling alive, the red glow that had only made Remy feel a faint warmth was killing this man. Remy turned and ran, away from the glowing red light that still infested his hand and away from Andre Deluc, who lay in agony on the ground in his courtyard. He made it all the way to the living room before Andre exploded.
Disclaimer: Remy doesn't belong to me. Pierre doesn't either. Andre and John do, but I'm nice so you can take them if you feel like it. I never liked them anyway. Please don't sue me; unless you want pocket lint, then you can go ahead. I'd win though.
"It's wort' at least twice dat and you know it!" Remy shouted, clasping the gold watch in his small hand and glaring up at Andre Deluc, hopefully for the last time. It had been almost a week since he had tried to pick the pocket of Jean-Luc LeBeau and gotten much more than he had ever hoped for.
He had a nice place now, really nice, and he was even beginning to think of Jean-Luc and Henri and the others as his family. He had all but given up thieving completely. Thieving without adult permission anyway. He just had this one last piece, taken from an antique store about a week ago, and he would be done with his old life. Including the increasingly volatile fence standing before him, t'ank de lord! I'll never see dat ugly face again. De man's had it out f'r me since I was a pup, couldn't bully me like de others.
Andre growled and shook his head. "No deal short-stuff, I ain't no fool. Dat watch be wort' no more'n de forty I offered for it and you ain't getting a penny more!" He scowled even more. Enacting the expression he called the 'done deal stare'. It had yet to fail to get even the most dangerous of his 'consigners' (as he called them) to agree to the price he asked, if not less.
The Stare, however, failed to faze the ten-year-old standing in front of him. Remy stared back and narrowed his eyes a little in the way that he knew made Father Bentley at the church on Forth street rant about demons and throw holy water at him. Don't t'ink bout Bentley. Remy ordered himself, remembering the last time he had seen the Father, delivering a sermon on 'the monsters of the modern world' as he and a few churchgoers kicked him into unconsciousness.
Andre tried to stare the boy down, gazing deeply into Remy eyes, but they were just so weird. Down right uncanny. Andre had never seen anything like them and at the moment he would be very happy to never see them again. Red- on-black bored into his face, making him feel as if the boy were reading his mind, or tryin' to blow me up. Never know what dos muties can do. Still he couldn't pay that much for the watch, not if he was going to pay that last poker game at Pierre's. Guild t'ief my âne. De man don't got de connections of a dead frog. He can sure play poker d'ough. Still, no way was he going to let this little amateur run off with his gambling money. Not when Pierre was so close to John Dupont the freelance assassin. Even if the boy was staring at him like he was plotting Andre's death.
Andre looked away first and a triumphant smile flickered across Remy's face. "De sign at de store say ninety dollars! An' it was reduced!" Remy yelled, for emphasis of course, he knew that Andre was in the bag already. Remy's stare always did that to people. Although Andre was annoyingly immune to Remy's charm power.
Remy was already celebrating his victory when something changed in the air. A shift in Andre's emotions, one of the many he had felt in the past few weeks. Like when the woman he was already calling Tante Mattie was angry at Jean-Luc for three whole days. And when Henri had been really happy after coming home with a bag of something he refused to show Remy. Remy never knew how or why it happened but it did, maybe it had something to do with his eyes, people were always interested in his eyes. What he did know was that Andre was very, very, very, angry all of a sudden.
"I'll show you boy!" Andre growled. Reaching down and grabbing Remy by the wrist he began dragging him towards the back door and out into a courtyard, picking something up from a table by the door. Remy tried to pull away, panicking fast. Andre Deluc might not be a very smart man, but he was very big, and Remy knew for a fact that he collected guns. "You'n me are going to go have un petite chat wit' Monsieur Dupont neh?" After all Andre was very close to Pierre.
"Non! Let go of moi!" Remy tried every trick he knew to get out of Andre's hold but the man was too big and his anger and (for some strange reason) fear were hurting Remy, he didn't know other people's emotions could hurt.
"Or maybe we save de good man some trouble non?" Said Andre as he cocked a gun and pointed it at Remy's head.
"Non!" Remy shouted again, running under the gun and grabbing the fence by his bare arm. Remy didn't know what he was going to do but he wasn't about to die at age ten, not when he had just found a family and a place to belong. Suddenly a wave of heat engulfed his hands, sending a warm tingling sensation up and down his arms. He opened his eyes when no shot rang out, having unconsciously closed them, to see that Andre was glowing, and brilliant red that covered every inch of him, cloths, skin, hair and all. Remy let out a scream and ran to the door.
With his hand on the knob, Remy doubled over in a wash of pain and fear. Andre's emotions, which had been strong enough to hurt earlier, were now overpowering Remy's own. He was afraid, and startled, but most of all he was in pain. He was burning, no boiling alive, the red glow that had only made Remy feel a faint warmth was killing this man. Remy turned and ran, away from the glowing red light that still infested his hand and away from Andre Deluc, who lay in agony on the ground in his courtyard. He made it all the way to the living room before Andre exploded.