A/N: I've decided to start up a new story as well as the old… a crossover, to be exact... With the marvellous Sin-City. I'm only going to use a few of the Movie characters, adding in my own X-Men induced ones as time goes on. I was working on a scripted crossover piece for them, but its way too hard from the scripts that are available… It's ever so slightly original, but… meh…
Anyway, Enjoy… let me know if there's anyone you want to see in here…And No… as Much as I would have LOVED to put Rogue as Nancy, its not happening.
The Salesman
Turn a Corner in Sin City, You Never Know What You're Going to Find.
Dey al'as said dis would 'appen t' me, de Gambit… de one de ladies couldn' catch… de bringer o' death. Remy al'as laughed at dem… poor fools fallen out of deir game cause o' some femme. Ne'er gonna 'appen, Remy said… No femme is gonna bring Remy t' his knees… And den she 'ad t' walk into m' life. Dose Emerald-greens lookin' all trustin' up at Remy as she curled 'gainst him from de wind.
Remy tol' her he'll look after her… take her away from what's after her… Remy tol' her dat he loved her… and for once, Remy meant ev'ry word.
Shaking that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he turns the charm on as he approaches the woman's shivering in the light breeze that blows across the balcony, her perfume drifts towards him as he lets her hear his footsteps. She stiffens visibly for a moment, before relaxing.
"Care f'r a smoke?"
"Sure… Ah'll take one sugar..." She holds the cigarette to her lips as he lights if for her, before lighting his. "Are yah as bored by that crowd as Ah am?" She turns away from him to look back out on the city as soon as she possibly can, not wanting to look at him as her green dress rustles slightly.
"Remy didn' come here f'r de party… He came here f'r y' petite." He moves closer, standing behind rather than beside her, his lips close to her ear and his voice takes on a more seductive tone.
"Remy's watch'd y' f'r days… Y'r ev'ryt'ing a homme could want… Its not just y'r face… Y'r… figure… Or y'r voice. Its y'r eyes. An' all de t'ings Remy sees in y'r eyes."
"What is it ya see in mah eyes Swamp Rat?" She asks, half amused, half curious.
"Remy sees a Crazy Calm. Y'r sick o' runnin'. Y'r ready t' face what y' have t' face, but y' don' wan' t' do it alone." Her hand shakes slightly and the smile drops from her face at his perfect description of her life as of recent.
"No..." she whispers, more to herself than him, "Ah don't want ta face it ahlone." She stares out over the city a moment longer, before turning to take the comfort his arms offer her, and his lips. The cigarette drops, forgotten to the floor, almost out as her arms snake about his waist, his just holding her as she needs to be held. He's done this countless times and it shows in his movements – soft, fluid and graceful, yet purposeful.
"Don't leave meh Remy… Ah don't' feel safe without ya." How could he resist the whispered words of the woman stood right there, her arms around his waist, looking up into his eyes as if he was the only thing in the world. As if he was all she had in the world and suddenly, that was what he wanted. He was speaking the words automatically, but with feeling, with meaning.
"Ev'ryt'ing gonna be alright Chere… Remy'll save y' from whoever it is dat y'r scared o', an' take y' far away." The gun is in his hand already, as if the words trigger it. His other hand smoothes the hair back from her face. "Je t'aime chere." He whispers, leaning down to kiss her. He's mere millimetres from her lips when she turns away and his lips meet her hair instead. It's this action that causes his gun to slide back into its holster at his waist. It is then that he knows that he won't kill her, that he can't.
And just like that, The Remy LeBeau, infamous Lady-Killer, fell from grace. It was as though now he loved a woman, he couldn't charm one, much less kill one. The operation was all about stealth, having as little fuss as possible made by your victim. Its hard for anyone to hear a scream, when its never formed by a mouth that's busy kissing… and a gunshot on a balcony twenty stories up with a silencer, is a mere whisper in the wind.
Mos' o' de time, Remy ne'er know what dey're running from… Remy don' hear de desperation in deir voice for a way out other dan what Remy's offering dem. Remy never noticed dat in de kiss dey give him, their last, dat dey knew what was about t' 'appen. Better to die happy, dan be caught I suppose. Dey never try to run…
Remy think he can hold off cashing dis cheque… after all, de job's not done yet an' Remy not had une fille t' play wit' f'r some time. Yet… Remy hold out faith dat he'll find his own conviction an be able t finish de job. Remy'll keep her close till den… At least den Remy knows, if he get desperate, where de next meal is coming courtesy of. Remy just hope dat he can still pull de trigger when he need to…
Y stay sharp, or y get dull… Y don't change… And getting dull is a sure way t get y'rself killed. Lots of people had come to realise dat at Remy's hands… Dey got dull an suffered de consequences, trusted de wrong guy…
Turn a Corner in Sin City, You Never Know What You're Going to Find.