Thanks Time and Fate for the review!
kmf's stuff: Finally you get some action! And I totally agree with what curt says below. Enjoy!
curt's crap: Remember your battle paraphernalia -- it's coming into play.
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Chapter Five
New York was cold. Colder than Remy LeBeau, bayou born and raised was used to. John seemed to be fairing just fine, though, while Remy blessed all the cows that contributed to the making of his worn leather duster.
"Nothing like second-home, huh?"
"Mon Dieu, homme. How you all live like dis?" Remy had his hands wrapped tight round himself, rubbing his arms.
"The cold or the squallor?" He laughed when Remy cut him a look. He sighed. "You'll get used to it. I did."
"From where? Detroit, eh? Cold to cold don't count, mon ami."
"Australia."
Remy arched an eyebrow. "Maybe ya ain't so diff'rent after all."
It took a bit of searching, but Remy and John came across an uninhabited abandoned building that they could stake as their own for the time being. There were some broken-down furnishings left within it -- it would do just fine. Now they needed food. And blankets, Remy insisted. And being the long-time thief he was -- not to mention not being the one gracing every television screen across the damned country -- was taking upon the mission.
He was heading back after snagging a comforter from someone's clothesline, not to mention all the food he had grabbed from vendors and loaded down in a bag -- recovered from a Dumpster -- when a bit of conversation caught his attention. He stayed behind one of the Dumpsters in the alley he was in and eavesdropped on the two men conducting their conversation in whispers.
"All the mutants down here're meetin' up -- tommorrow night. You comin'?"
" 'Course, man. I'm down."
Ah, opportunity knocks when ya least expect her to, non? Remy thought to himself. With the information in mind, he headed back to his and John's place.
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"... they can't do this. What are we going to do? How do we fight this...?"
"By doing exactly that, you moron." John said, not able to stay quiet anymore. He was, admittedly, over-agitated by the man standing on the stage whining. The whole crowd turned to look at him and moved apart as he made his way up to the stage, Remy behind him the whole way.
"What are all of you doing? I can't believe the president and Worthington have just waged war against us and you're all standing around bitching about what we're gonna do! We have to fight this! This means war! They can't just take away our rights as citizens and expect us to sit around. You have to fight." he stated, looking around at the people around him.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the guy who had been speaking asked from somewhere off to John's right. He looked over and saw the man still standing on the stage, just as an idea formulated in his mind.
"Just don't toast 'em, homme. They ain't worth it." Remy said from behind him. He glanced back at the man and nodded. Flicking the flamethrowers on his wrist, he allowed the flames to grow and form a giant bird.
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Remy saw the thugs approaching as John was pulling off his effective demonstration of firepower -- literally -- and will. There were three of them, rough-hewn and tattooed, obviously sure of themselves. He quickly stepped out between them and John.
"And who the fuck do you think you are?" demanded the evident leader of the band gruffly.
"Just another like you, mon ami," Remy offered placatingly, with a smirk, leaning upon his Bo staff.
"I think you're about to get your head smashed in -- then we're gonna get your buddy."
Remy tsked, shaking his head. "Non. That's where you wrong." With a flick of his wrist, Remy held a card. His eyes glowed as he charged it -- the thugs stared. The leader scoffed.
"So you make shit glow, huh?"
Remy smiled. "An' so much more," he replied as he tossed it down before them. The resulting explosion was loud and bright, just rightly so, though, and sent the thugs flying, each of them landing on their arses, eyes bugged.
Remy winked at them and went to stand beside John.
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John turned the fire bird on a large bench at the back of the stage. It easily picked the bench up. He slowly made it drop the bench again and snuffed it out, before turning back to the awe stricken crowd. He knew, he now had everyone's attention.
"Like I was saying before he so rudely interrupted me. We have to fight. We can't protest. They'll just hose us or something. This means war. We have to build a resistance. It's the only way we're gonna survive." he said.
"What do you want us to do?" someone asked. He looked taken aback for a second, surprised someone was asking him what to do. And then he straightened up and stared out over the crowd.
"We have to gather mutants to our cause. Build a strong resistance. We have to fight."
(The lyric in the page break is from "Image of the Invisible" by Thrice.)