So, been a while, hmm? Umm…my bad? Hey, in fairness (to those of you who were turning violent), I had to take care of a lot of school stuff. And my new roommate may be anti-sci-fi. Gimme a break (of that Kit-Kat bar). Reviews will be as cherished as first-born children. The void of non-reviews will be filled with my tears.
Four
"We are not going t' play Twister." He spoke in the clear, strong, resolute voice he'd learned from listening to his father address the younger members of the guild (himself included) – the Do As I Say Or Suffer Immeasurably Voice. From the even the cockiest, most stubborn, irreverent of the Thieves (again, himself) the voice incurred respect. It drew, however, only a yawning, whiney 'how come' from his ethereal companion, who sat on the desk staring at him in a rather disconcerting way. Wide eyes and dark lashes tracked his every move, like very determined motion sensors. "Because." He answered. For lack of a better brain, it seemed.
"Because? Because…of the wonderful things he does?" She suggested.
He dipped his head to sip from his martini glass and took advantage of the position to glower. "No Twister."
"Battleship?"
"I'm really kind o' busy."
She leaned back on her elbows and shook her head. "Ah'm beginnin' ta think you're really kind a' dull."
He nearly choked on his olive. "I take offense at dat. Remy LeBeau is not a borin' man."
"Uh huh, sure," Rogue said, with a snort. "You're all excitement an' intrigue. It's a good thing Ah'm already dead, 'cause Ah don't think my heart could've taken the deep mystery that is you. Just look at ya now. Sure, it looks like you've been sittin' there drinkin' for half an hour, not even movin' much, but underneath it all, you're probably plannin' world domination, am Ah right? What will ya use this time, Doctor No. A death ray carefully positioned on the moon, or a secret mind control poison released into the air?"
With a smile, he said, "Have you considered usin' some o' dat endless time t' write a novel?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You suck."
"No," he corrected, "but if you'd like to-" He stopped when she vanished abruptly. "What's wrong? Was it somethin' I said?"
She didn't answer aloud, but suddenly his martini glass was turned upside down onto his lap, soaking his pants through. Remy stared at the mess of his clothes and couldn't help it; he laughed. "Touché, Cheri."
"What did you find out?" Bella asked the man in her ear, as she practiced alone in the gym. She targeted a life-size puppet in the distance with the sharpened edge of her wooden staff. With a running start, she threw the staff and watched with some satisfaction as it landed square in the puppet's head.
"The boss is definitely acting funny these days. I talked to a pal, a friend who serves on her personal security staff and it turns out she's been meeting a lot with this guy. They retreat into her office, and the guards aren't allowed to follow. Her own men, and she locks them out, like they weren't handpicked for their loyalty and quiet tongues. My pal is getting fed up with this, and it isn't just him. All the guards are anxious these days."
Her hand clamped down on the staff. She jerked it quickly from the fluffy stuffing and twirled it around her wrist in an elegant move. Practice makes perfect, her father loved to say. Even away on a mission, he would expect her to keep up her training. He probably wouldn't condone the investigation of the Benefactress herself, but she'd learned long ago that father didn't always know best. She'd please him where she could, and be content with that. To the man, she said, "Have y' run a search on dis secret companion?"
"Extensively. So clean he squeaks," she was informed. "It all looks in order, as far as we can tell. The thing is, we're not getting the whole picture. Several documents pertaining to his life have been designated classified by the United States Government. He's got the big support. We can break through it, sure, but not without time."
Bella frowned. She pulled a dagger from her boot and turned around to face the row of new puppets that had suddenly appeared. They wore thick armor this time. "Can we get a bug in his house?" She licked her licks and raised the dagger; there was a weak spot near the knees of the dummies. She flipped the dagger over in her hand once before letting it fly like a boomerang. It sliced through half of the knees before twirling back towards her. She caught with her protected palm.
"We're working on that, too, but it's not going to be easy. He's got security that makes the secret service look like kids in big suits and jackets. Infiltrating his home is going to be a lot like trying to rob Fort Knox."
"Let me guess. Isolated hermit."
"Opposite. Completely public. The guy resides in Worthington Towers, in the center of New York City."
"Is there anyway t' get Warren Worthington III in on our plans? We can make up some story about embezzlement."
"That's unlikely," the man said. "The guy in question is Warren Worthington."
Bella paused in her attack of the remaining two attackers. "He's the guy that Candra's been spending time with? Merde. I don't believe it. What is da world comin' to, I ask you. Keep up the work. I want him to have at least five tails at any one time, oui?" She clicked off her earpiece and sighed to herself, trying to shrug off the tension in her shoulders. Remy was being distant and Candra was plotting in secret. She was clearly missing something… but what?
He ran a search for 'imprisoned souls' just as a test run. There were numerous results, which appeared to span everything from the Purple Pill to Vlad the Impaler. Remy skimmed the entries, but there was nothing that seemed to jump out with a handy explanation for a girl being stuck in a piece of jewelry.
However, he did notice one of the ads looking particularly interesting. 'The Ghost Patrol'. Are you interested in some spirited ghost hunting? Call us, the ghost patrol, at 468-885-9696. Our service is out of this world…or at least beyond it. It was stupid. And probably a gag. But, there was always a chance they could help, information-wise. Remy jotted down the number and then quickly shut his laptop as the sound of light humming filled the room behind him.
Rogue was holding his wallet. "There's some really interesting stuff here," she remarked, tossing cards onto the desk in front of him. "That driver's license picture makes ya look like a squirrel, by the way. Didn't know the Mile High Club actually made printouts. And why is there an attractive man's picture hidden in the back o' your wallet?" She held out the photo for him to see. "The secret lover?"
He snatched it all away. "Dat's my brother, Henri." He sighed, cramming the picture back where it belonged. His cards followed with the same violent haste. "Who said it was okay t' start siftin' through my stuff?"
"It's in the handbook," she said. "So what's the deal with Henri an' you, anyway, Gumbo? What'd he do ta deserve a place behind the Chevron gas station charge card and the Summer Work Available flier, huh? Or do boys these days just have no concept o' brotherly love."
Remy frowned. "It's a long story."
"Convenient then that Ah got all eternity."
He opened his mouth, and then closed it. "How come we're always talkin' about me."
She gave a shrug. "We're not. You're just enough of a narcissist ta only remember conversations 'bout you."
"Y' hail from Mississippi?" He asked, not deterred, despite her efforts. A genuine curiosity sprung up as he watched her consider her answer with a thoughtfulness she'd never shown before. Even her posture changed. She seemed more… real. More alive, in an odd way.
"Ah am from Mississippi, yeah." Her body slid onto the bed, and she curled her legs up against her chest. "Caldecott."
"What was da best thing about it?"
She said, "The smallness. Big cities are great, but there's somethin' so personal about little places. They're more comfortable."
She wrinkled her nose. "Ah guess it came with a fair amount of prejudices, though. We never did like outsiders, much, and let me tell you, the Civil Rights Movement was like an especially painful enema for me. " She shook her head. "Ah guess ya don't ever stop grownin', even after you're dead."
"An' what are you learnin' right now?" Remy wondered.
She grinned slowly. "Not ta let you lead conversations anymore."
He laughed. "Come on. Let's play a game. I want t' sink yo' battleship."
For the third time in a row, Remy didn't answer the phone. Bella huffed, or would've, if she hadn't been involved in pressing matters. Sticking the cell phone back into her pocket, she followed the tall blonde gentleman on his walk through the park. He walked with a purpose, not quite how one would expect a man who'd never lifted a finger in honest work to make his way through a crowd. His looks and his money afforded him much attention; everyone he passed offered him smiles.
She'd never paid much attention to his kind. She was too rich on her own for wealth to matter, too self-possessed to let his marketable charm influence her. And when one spent nearly every day in the presence of Remy LeBeau…one learned to overlook good looks. But suddenly, the trust fund baby was interesting. And dangerous, no doubt, but being a professional assassin tended to kill that worry. Few people were more dangerous than the one she called 'Daddy'.
After a minute of following quietly, Bella quickened her step and called out, "Warren?" The name was funny on her tongue. Losing the Bayou accent wasn't hard anymore, but it was still a strange thing for her ears. Stuffing that observation aside, she continued, "Warren, is that you?"
He paused, mid-stride, and cast a glance over his shoulder. She waved, so he'd know was addressing him. If he didn't recognize her face, he at least caught the elegantly revealing dress she wore. His eyes examined her briefly, before finding their way back to her face. He grinned. "Do I know you?"
"Well, certainly. We had that night in Venice, after the Children's Hospital Fundraiser." She giggled brightly. "I still have the video. I was hoping that I might run into you here. There are so many unfamiliar faces here in New York. But then you're probably too busy for little Donna, right?"
Warren shifted. "Donna," he repeated with thought. "I always have time for a friend, Donna, especially the beautiful ones. You'll forgive me if I can't stay long and chat now, I hope; there's a meeting that demands my attention, but…where are you staying? I'd love to call on you. There's a restaurant on Eighth and Vine that I think every visitor to the city should see."
She reached into her purse and retrieved a card for him. "I can't wait to see what you've got planned, Warren."
She stretched her arms out wide and yawned. Another day of chasing someone's fantasies. Sarah wasn't sure how much longer she could take of the Ghost Patrol. The boss paid well, sure, but damn if it wasn't the stupidest job she'd ever held. People called up claiming they'd seen little green monsters in their shoes, and heard voices in the bedroom, and seen floating heads in the cellar, and so on, and so forth. She was stuck in a low budget X-files wannabe, and the very minute she could afford to pay for her classes in orthopedic studies, she was gone.
Gone like the mind of her latest client, a Southern gent with a problem.
A ghost in a necklace. What kind of crap was that? Of course there'd been no precedence. If she were being kind, she'd have told him to walk into a brick wall a few times and see if that helped clear things up. But she was being professional instead, and that involved typing up a report on apparitions caught between two worlds. And blah, blah, blah.
It was going to be a long night.
Reviewer Responses:WolvGambit Le Diable Blanc, enchantedlight, Grumpygurl33, Rogue14, Gothik Strawberry, x-bandet-x, Kitsu LeBeau, addtothenoise, helppuppie, silverink, cat2fat900, freak87: Without you guys, I'd never find the will to keep going with any story. Thanks so much for your continued interest. And hey, any requests for cameos? I might take a few.
Poisoned-Tattoo: No news yet on why they want the necklace, but maybe now you know who wants it? Thanks!
Sweety8587: The drinks are there! Unless… darn it, I think Remy stole them. You'll have to take it up with the Cajun boy!
Chica: Well, a month is practically a fast update. Right? Thanks muchly for the review. Come again.
SnarkyKatya: I'd say something mean but you've helped me with the storyline. Curses.
Silverbells: Ah, explanations will come. I considered having powers in the story, but frankly it made everything a little complicated, and I wouldn't have been able to pull off the little cameo scenes, you know? Thanks for reading.
Alara: You updated, I updated, we all updated. This sounds like the beginning of a children's song. Did I say I'd love you forever? Ahh, but there was a fine print (so fine it seemed as if it weren't even there). You have to keep reviewing. Thanks for reading!
Ishandasquishedbug: Wow. Reading your review, I realized how long it's been since the last update. How the time does fly. I think you were having a little too much fun with all the possible ways of phrasing Bella's painful demise via divine intervention. I'm sure you always only have the very noblest of intentions, dear Ish. I'd bet my…uh, old Family Tree project on it.
Roguechere: Ahh, Beastwars. I need a life. Yes, I am going to make you wait. I will say this: if she is a ghost, she did die. Bye!
They-Call-Me-Orange: They call me weird, but that's another story. Thanks for the critique. Come again, please.
TheRogueAuthor: Sorry about the confusion. Agreed about the Uncle Jessie. You know the question about Rogue's eventual fate? I have no idea what the answer is. Seriously. I'm oh, so very susceptible to suggestions at the moment. Hint, hint.
Nettlez: Ah, glad you're a fan. I blush! Thanks for the review and I hope you come again!
Shira's Song: As soon as I finish this, I aim to catch up on your updates. Pinky swear, only minus the pinky. You're not alone in hoping that Gambit isn't imagining Rogue; heck, I'm pretty sure now you've got me on your side, which is probably good. Glad you like the banter. Sometimes, when my brain won't dish out a plot, it reverts back to banter talk, so knowing the stand-by is effective is comforting. Ha. Thanks for the review! Come again.
Lace123: An English teacher! Oh my! That brings up such a variety of memories. Including some I thought I'd suppressed. Hey, glad ya liked the banter and I hope you get around to updating sometime. Happy trails!
Chained2aMask: In POTO, movie version, Christine was actually singing. I was shocked, too. I agree about the names. I prefer having her as just 'Rogue' although sometimes I cave in and give her one of the many other ones. I always hate myself in the morning. Ha. Thanks a bunch!
Le Rossignol de la Soiree: Wow, your reviews are always a pleasure. You know, your scenario two was once very similar to my idea for this story. I wanted Rogue to be alive and captive, and just her image to appear before Remy, and at the end, he could've found out about her real life. Unfortunately, there was another fic too much like that. This review did not exceed 2-3 months. Ha!