Author's Note:
I am terribly sorry that I disappeared for so long! Life became so dreadfully busy and this chapter wasn't falling quite into place as well as I thought it would. Don't you hate when things sound so good in your head and just don't seem as brilliant on paper? I know I do.
Anyway, thank you to all of those who have left me reviews! I truly appreciate your opinions and am extremely amazed with the positive reactions from everyone. Hopefully, this chapter will keep you just as entertained.
And by the way, I don't own X-men. I know, shocking, right?
xXx
Who ever knew a door could be so closely examined? Remy LeBeau most certainly did not; he has never thought of doors before really, they were just something that was there. Just as one never really sits and thinks about the concept of a chair but instead the reason they sit, people are usually more concerned with what was behind the door, rather than the door itself.
But here he finds himself, standing before this entranceway, pondering the power it currently has over him. It's a nice enough looking door, painted with a crisp clean white color and practically spotless. However, the one thing that sets this door apart from others he has seen in his very exciting life is the black nameplate on the metal which reads "Dr. Karol E. Vahmen".
You see, this is the door that will change everything. Before, with all of his preparations, the dyed hair, the coat being left behind, changing the plates on his motorcycle and leaving it in a part of town hardly known for safety and security- he could still return to the Mansion and the X-men would happily take him back (Though that "happily" would probably exclude Scott and Emma). He could still walk away from this, leave the task unfulfilled, and try to forget about all he knows. Once he opens that door, once he meets with this man, he will be stuck having to attempt to complete a mission that seems far too large for one man, and his pleasure of having late-night chats with Ororo, smoking breaks with Logan, Wednesday night poker competitions where everyone always cheats, and that constant support and love from his teammates will be gone for good. Once he enters this, seeing or having contact with any of them will only put them danger.
Still, even as he realizes when this door closes so does that chapter of his life, he suddenly pulls down the handle and swings the door open with no hesitation.
A light classical tune fills the waiting room as he enters and he can't help but admire how much thought Vahmen put into this; it may just be a front, but it was a well thought-out front. It truly looks like your average waiting room; a rack full of bent and ripped magazines, a table with pamphlets on anxiety and depression, and a coat rack that holds one painfully bright blue ski
jacket that someone obviously left behind a while ago- the works.
Remy quickly crosses the room towards the glass which behind an ancient secretary sits. Stony faced and deep set wrinkles, the woman grudgingly slides open the glass divider at the sight of him. "May I help you?" She asks in her monotone voice.
"Yes." He answers clearly, working diligently to muffle some of his harsh Cajun accent. "I'm here to see Dr. Vahmen." His eyes flicker over the counter; trying to catch sight of a name he can attach himself to, a name that can carry him into the office to face the doctor.
She's silent for a moment, a curious expression on her visage before looking down on the sheet before her. "Name?"
The road has barely begun, yet it looks like he's already hit a dead end. There is no schedule book, no sign-in sheet, nothing to hide behind as the woman's beady little eyes seem to look right through him to the very depths of his soul. He is completely prepared to enter the conversation with Vahmen, has an alias to go along with his new look, but now doubts that he can slip by this woman as she seems like one of those types that goes strictly by the book. Everything slows for a minute as the Ragin' Cajun, the famous charmer Remy LeBeau takes a moment as for once in his life he has can't find the right words to say.
Thank goodness someone else does for him.
"It's alright Nancy." Comes a deep voice from the other side of the room. "He's a new patient, called when you were out on your lunch break. Seeing how the next appointment isn't until four, I figured I could squeeze him in."
His head snaps towards the direction of the voice and his eyes fall upon the man he can only assume is Doctor Vahmen. The odd thing is the man's appearance is the complete opposite of the officially unofficial villain dress code he's used too when coming face to face with the bad guys. The doctor has a youthful look about him, a face free from wrinkles with a charming smile that could actually surpass the Cajun's…well, only if Remy was having an off-day or something along those lines. His short, curly, dirty blonde hair is missing the slicked back look so many of the wicked embrace. Dressed neatly in a causal tan suit, his tan skin almost blends into the sleeves of the jacket. The warm look on his soft face almost causes Remy to let down his guard. The only thing off about him is the look in his wide hazel eyes, for an emotion glimmers in the gaze that he can't identify, but definitely doesn't like; he's seen that before, can't quite place it, but knows it all too well.
"Hello Mr…" The man begins before pausing a moment, "Pardon me for forgetting, but what was your name again?"
"Christophe Bandeau." Remy answers naturally.
"Ah yes. Well, Mr. Bedeau, it's a pleasure to meet you." Extending a hand, he offers his own introduction, "Dr. Karol E. Vahmen. Let's step into my office."
xXx
Tapping his fingers along the cherry wood desk, Remy waits for the confrontation to begin. Vahmen seems to be dragging this out as long as he can, slowly fiddling with a thermos of coffee though his eyes remain in a deadlock stare, so intense it seems he can see right through him. While the doctor may not hold the usual appearance of a villain- that stare makes up for the lack of black in his ensemble. Finally, he decides he has to speak up, start the ball rolling himself.
"Why'cha ya cover for me?" The accent differs now, to one he knows he can more easily managed, one he can more easily stay in character throughout the length of time he must keep up his act. It's an odd blend of his own harsh Cajun and a dash of thick Southern, as if he constantly commutes between New Orleans and Atlanta.
A smirk tugs at the corner of Vahmen's lips, as he continues to draw out the moment, taking a long sip from his mug, before finally responding, eyes glued to Remy's, straight through the sunglass barrier, the entire time. "Mr. Bedeau, considering the effort it must have taken to seek me out, I figure it must be worth five minutes to see what you have to say." A shrug rolls off his shoulders, "Whether you provide anything of use to me or simply give me something to laugh about later on is yet to be seen." Flashing a quick grin, the man settles back into his desk chair, "So what bring you here? I'm listening."
It has taken Remy every bit of strength he has to hold himself back from lunging across the desk and wrapping his hands around the man's throat, demanding answers to every question he has and to stop the plan in motion before simply strangling the last ounce of life from him. But that would only feel good for a second, as by avenging Anna's death in such a manner he'd actually be going against everything she had asked him to do, lose his shot at fulfilling his promise.
Still, even in the disguise that he loathes, he is still the famous Remy LeBeau and does not allow a hint of this anger and hatred to show on his face. Reaching up, he removes the sunglasses balanced on his nose, revealing his eyes that show his desire for information and a new color to the gaze.
In the restroom of the office building, he had decided that the sunglasses were way too suspicious and with a lack of enthusiasm pulled the box of colored contacts from his bag. He had been hoping to slip by without using them, but it was simply bothering too much. While they had been incredibly annoying to get in and had him cursing up a storm, he had gotten them in after a few minutes of struggle.
So as he meets the hazel stare, his eyes are still indeed strange, still unique and memorable, but now hold a sparking reddish-purple hue instead of the bright red. "Ah came because ah found t'is…" Reaching into his shirt pocket, he removes a yellow business card and slides it across the desk. Silently, he quickly thanks Rogue for leaving him this, something to get his foot in the door. "It says dat ya'll are lookin' for a t'ief around 'ere…"
Vahmen picks of the card with a hint of puzzlement and curiosity coming over his previously smug expression. "Where did you find this?" His voice has dropped that jolly, overconfident tone, as if he is beginning to wonder how much of a laugh this meeting will truly be.
"A week ago, ah was cleanin' out an apartment downtown- guy left in a real hurry apparently. He wasn't too bad off, so ah figured ah might see if dere was anyt'ing interesting lying around. And what'da ya know, sure enough, dere was! Found it on Mr. Stone's desk next ta couple bills and a threat letter." With his own smirk, Remy leans back in his seat, playing his own over-confidence card to make the next moments all the better.
After a moment of staring in disbelief, his eyes reading over the words in his own penmanship, the address to the office, the doctor lays the card on the desktop, and sighs. "I'm not sure how much you know about our establishment here, Mr. Bedeau, but I take great pride in personally finding those who are of value to our goals. I followed Mr. Stone for weeks a few years back, checked references and every source I could find; I knew when I offered him a position here, I had found of the best of the best. No offense to you, but I have no idea of your skills and abilities, if you could even pickpocket the most gullible fool in this world." Shaking his head slightly, "I'm sorry, but if you came here looking for a job that isn't going to hap-"
His words are cut off as once more the doctor seems to find himself facing the unexpected. For just as he has brought up the lack of knowledge regarding his skills, Remy has reached into his pocket and begun to lay out a wallet, a cell phone, and a lighter in a straight line across the desk, a gentle smirk on his lips as he said nothing. Once he finally makes eye contact with the man once more, loving the shock that seems to rest in those eyes, he quickly snaps his fingers, "Ah almost forgot!" Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he first takes one for himself before laying the box in the line of stolen processions. Lighting up using a second lighter he reveals, he takes the opportunity to take a quick drag.
"Ah think those t'ings are ones you probably be missin' later, no?" All five had been items he managed to pull from Vahmen's pockets as the other mindlessly chatted during their walk down the hallway to their current location. The doctor was dedicated to maintaining the legitimacy of front and he took advantage of that.
He sits as if in some sort of trance during this lighting up, but it isn't long before the doctor snaps out of it, reaching across his desk and snatching the objects, wasting little time in returning them to the right places. The look on his face seems to be changing by the second, as if he's trying to figure out how he should respond to such a situation.
After a moment of flustered motion, the man finally regains composure and looks to the other once more. Mumbling a moment, he places his hand to his brow, "We always could use another skilled thief on our team, there are always plenty of things we need stolen…" Hesitating, he finally nods, having finally decided in his own mind on the choice. "Tomorrow we have a testing for other new recruits in the morning, to find out who will actually make the final cut, who actually can make it in the conditions one faces in an operation like ours. If you pass the test, I'll break my own rule, just this one time, and let a walk-in have a place with us."
Balancing the cigarette on his lip, Remy offers a hand to the other, "Ah'll be there." It is taken coolly in a quick shake, causing him to grin. His heart rises in his chest, thrilled that he's one step closer to fulfilling his mission. Sure, he probably should ask what exactly is going to be required of him, how difficult this test will be; see if he can get any information about the way it'll work, but he really isn't worried about it. He's gotten through the speaking; any chance to show off his skills and abilities is always fun and appreciated.
"Unfortunately, I can't go into detail about our business here until still prove your worth, but, there is one thing you must know." Finally settling on a file, Vahmen pulls it out and places it on the desk, checking the contents as he continues. "I know nothing of your morals, Mr. Bedeau. I know nothing of your past or your goals for the future. But if you're hoping to be a hero, get your name in the history books or something, you must understand that we are not the heroes. To the world, we are the villains, the bad guys. You know obviously, that you'd be asked to steal, but you'll have to lie, cheat, and perhaps even murder. You may be killed if you fail or slip up, either by our enemies or by your superiors. We have no time for changes of heart or debates over right and wrong. Do you understand?"
"Yes." The Cajun answers simply, already devoted to doing anything he must to keep his word- even if it haunts him forever.
"And you still wish to join us?"
"Yes. Da whole 'hero routine' don't really appeal ta me anymore."
"Alright then…" The doctor quickly writes "Christophe Bedeau" on the tab of the tan file. Reaching for a tablet to his right, he quickly writes a few notes and numbers. "You'll stay with us for the evening at least, as we provide housing for our employees; we need to know you aren't going to simply leave us with an open spot tomorrow morning. Your room is 304." Sliding the paper into the folder, he shares the rest of what is written. "Tomorrow at 8:00 am you will be expected in the audition room- it's in the basement of the building your room is in and is the only thing down there; not hard to miss." Holding the file out for the other, he continues. "Have these forms filled out and with you when you arrive- otherwise we can't even give you a shot…and what a shame that would be."
Remy quickly takes the file, uttering a polite, "Thank ya." His mind races with questions of what happens next, if he's perhaps signed up for more than he should have. It's kind of intimidating as it seems he's stuck here now, no chance of leaving this place, but at the same time, rather nice that this option isn't even a temptation for him. Maybe tonight he can actually have some time to breathe, time to think about everything without fear of someone walking in his room in an attempt to comfort him, without worry that he won't even make it to see Vahmen, and without the idea he should back out circling through his mind.
The doctor reaches for the phone on his desk, pressing a button before glancing back to the Cajun. "Someone should be over to escort you to our main building in a few minutes. It'll be about a half an hour drive from here to our complex outside of the city." Folding his hands on the desk, he goes on, "Before he arrives, I can't tell you much, but I'll answer any questions about this initial process that seem reasonable."
Though he knows that the other won't be able to answer anything he truly wants to know, he settles for a secondary question. "So tomorrow, if ah pass t'is "test" and have my paperwork, dat it? Ah'm part of t'is group?"
Vahmen nods. "I'll have to do some screening...but pretty much so, yes."
"So afterward ah get mah uniform and codename and all?"
The burst of laughter that leaves the doctor's lips slightly startles Remy, as he really isn't expecting that sort of response.
"Uniform? Codename?" The man continues to chuckle, shaking his head, "Who the hell do you think we are, Bedeau? The X-men?"