Young Offender, Part 8:
"You're a cheat. That's all there is too it," Jet said as he and Albert walked up the staircase to the Arnoul apartment.
"You won more games. You really are a strong player, when you're patient."
"Nag and bitch, nag and bitch."
Albert shot Jet a dirty look as they came to the apartment door. He knocked on it as Albert crossed his arms. The door flew open and there was the tall blond man, Francoise's brother, looking eye-to-eye with Jet. Jet crossed his arms, too, looked down, and put on a scowl.
"Come in, please." Jean-Paul stood aside and let them inside the apartment.
"Wow, that smells good," Jet said. He glanced up to see Francoise tending a huge soup tureen and a salad bowl.
"It's 'Crepes St. Jacques. It's seafood crepe with a white sauce," Francoise explained. She brought the bowls out and placed them on the neatly set table. "Come and have some."
Jean-Paul, Jet, and Albert sat at the table. Francoise called out, "Ivan, where are you?" The boy emerged from a small door to the side the living-room. "You shouldn't spend so much time in that attic. You've been up there all afternoon."
"I just needed time to concentrate," he said, sitting beside Albert. Jet didn't like the kid's thoughtful expression. Ivan was keeping secrets, lots of them. Jet might not be book smart like sauerkraut, but he knew how to read people. It's what had kept him safe for four years running with a street gang. He hated feeling like some fourteen year old was holding all the cards in this situation. For now, he'd put up with it, but he wasn't going to tolerate this much longer.
"Let's eat," she said and sat at the table. For several long minutes they ate in silence.
Jean-Paul was the one who finally said, "I think it's time I have more details on what's going on with my sister. I want to know who you guys are and why everything must be so secretive right now."
"Hey, this isn't our fault. We were all kidnapped like her." Jet's defenses rose. "Trust me. No one in their right mind would volunteer to go through what we just did."
"Go through what? I don't understand!" Jean-Paul's hand smacked the table, a steely look came to his aqua colored eyes.
"Monsieur Arnoul, our bodies have been changed in different ways. Instead of being totally flesh and blood, we're now a mixture of flesh and electronics. Our blood was taken and remixed with fluids to help sustain machines, not lungs, hearts, and livers. We still have what makes us a human deep inside, but we no longer share a physical kinship with humanity."
Jet found himself shivering at Ivan's eerie description. The New Yorker looked over at Francoise and felt a wave of pity and envy for her. He didn't have any siblings. He thought for a moment it must be nice to have someone so close to you. He thought about his own home life and what it would be like if he were the older brother of a sister. Yeah, he would have certainly protected her against his parents and gotten her out of their abusive home life as soon as he could.
It kind of helped Jet understand Jean-Paul's cautious attitude towards him and Albert. Looking back on his childhood, there was a part of him that was grateful his mother couldn't have children after he was born. He saw the fondness between Jean-Paul and Francoise and didn't know that he could bear watching someone he loved that much suffer what he had.
She was staring at her lap, but he could see something glistening on her cheek. He flinched and jerked his head away. He never, ever could stand to see girls cry. It made him so angry. It made him want to get even with whoever hurt them. Franny, as much as she pissed him off with her goody-two-shoes act, was no exception.
"So the experiments you talked about last night? It was some sort of surgery? Why would someone do that? It sounds too fantastic. Science has gotten that far? And who are these people who did this?"
"It's all true. It's an organization that has been working on it for decades. They've gotten to the point where they can take a person's body and replace the parts with mechanical and electronic parts. We were experiments. Just randomly chosen. Except for Ivan," Albert said, nodding towards the Russian boy.
"It's all too unreal. I have trouble believing you."
Albert tugged off the glove on his right hand and held it up. Jean-Paul bolted out of his chair, his wide eyes were locked on Albert's altered hand as the metallic fingers moved slightly.
"We can't spend time arguing with you any longer. Your sister is still in danger. We need to make sure you accept this and will protect her after we leave."
"Certainly, Herr Heinrich," Jean-Paul murmured, now pale, as he sat back down. He reached over towards Francoise's shoulder, however she jumped up quickly and ran to her bedroom before he touched her. The loud door slam jarred Jet. Jean-Paul now looked glum instead of shocked.
After several long, silent minutes, Jean-Paul put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his clenched fists as Albert pulled his glove back over his hand.
"What can I do to help?" the blond pilot asked. Jet felt relieved to hear Jean-Paul's question, but still, he wasn't going to just hand out his trust. 'Never trust anyone' had been beaten into Jet many times. If you couldn't trust your own parents, you certainly couldn't trust strangers.
Francoise sat up on her bed in her darkened bedroom, exhausted from her weeping. She glanced at the crack between the door jamb and the edge of the door. Warm light came from the living-room, so she went to go spy on them. She could see Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet all clustered around the dining room table; they talked about how to stay ahead of the Black Ghost and the things Jean-Paul could do to ensure Francoise's safety.
All three men were smoking and drinking some homemade beer from the landlord while they chatted. Part of her wanted to run out and scream at Jean-Paul to stop talking to them, ignore them, reject them. Instead, it seemed Jean-Paul and Albert were now totally at ease with one another. Jet had even made Jean-Paul laugh a few times. The last thing Francoise wanted was her old life tainted by the world of cyborgs.
Another part of her found pride and comfort at how well he was getting along with her male compatriots. She loved her brother so much for the sacrifices he had made to finish raising her after their parents were killed in a train accident. Also, she loved him for his determination to make her dreams of the ballet come true. And, lately, Albert, Jet, and Ivan had all put their lives on the line for her at one time or another. Therefore, she couldn't help but care fiercely for them, even after such a short time.
Her conflicted emotions made her ashamed. How could she even want to reject the people who had stood by her in a life or death situation?
/You're afraid that you'll not be able to forget you're a cyborg if Jean-Paul accepts them. That means he will accept you, and you're afraid he'll treat you differently anyway./
She gasped and looked over at the corner. She had wondered where Ivan had disappeared to after dinner. Ivan floated in midair; an eerier blue glow surrounded him. She reluctantly nodded.
"How did you get in here?" she whispered.
/I can teleport, however, it takes an inordinate amount of energy. I only do it when I have a very good reason./
"What reason?"
/I read your thoughts. They could lead to self-loathing if you keep having these thoughts. Please find acceptance for yourself, Francoise, and all of us./
She took a deep breath, smiled at him, and nodded. Ivan lowered to the ground and walked towards the cracked doorway. He peeked out, no expression on his face, as he dabbed at a trickle under his nose with a handkerchief.
"Ivan, please stay with me and Jean-Paul. Paris a wonderful city. You know, I can't think of a reason Heinrich has to leave either. He could stay too. Jet, if he..." There was a subtle creak on the stairs outside the building. "Someone is coming up to the apartment. It sound like a slight person."
"Let's wait here. It's Natalie," Ivan said, with a furrowed brow as a knock sounded. Francoise peeked out of the door crack, once again, above Ivan's head. Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet looked startled. Jean-Paul waved them into his bedroom and went to the door after retrieving their father's revolver.
"Who is it?" Jean-Paul voice was harsh.
"It's me," Natalie called out. Suddenly, Natalie pounded furiously on the door. Jean-Paul yanked the door open, let the slight girl in, and slammed the door shut.
"Natalie! Are you okay? You're shaking and crying? What's happened?"
"Oh Jean-Paul! It's too horrible!" She gave a slight sob, holding her wrist to her nose. Francoise didn't realized she was about to run out to comfort Natalie until she looked down to see Ivan's thin fingers around her wrist. She jerked her attention back to the scene outside her bedroom, now without the urge to join it.
"Get a hold of yourself," Jean-Paul coaxed and got her to sit on the couch.
"I told them about those two men."
"What? Who did you tell? When?" Jean-Paul's voice snapped into a strident tone. His eyes were blazing as he stood over the girl. She flinched and started crying. Francoise's throat turned dry. She could hear Jet swear in the next room and Albert scuffling with him.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, but he said he was the police! He said the American killed someone! Don't you even care? Both of those men are suspected of murder, but something didn't seem right. I don't really think he was a policeman after all, but I think what they said was true! I believe they're both murders! The one killed his own wife to get out of East Berlin! The other stabbed a seventeen-year-old boy! Francoise is in danger!"
"You stupid bitch!" Jet shouted, jumping out of Jean-Paul's bedroom. Albert jerked Jet's shoulder back. Albert's own eyes bored into the sobbing girl on the couch, too. Jet shouted, "You're lucky I'm not the type to hit a broad, but you come pretty damn close!"
"Cool it!" Albert snapped.
Natalie gave a stifled yelp and cowered against an armrest on the couch. Francoise opened her door and walked out into the living-room with Ivan trailing behind. She walked over to the couch and sat beside Natalie. The girl looked up with tear-stained remorse written over her face.
Francoise quickly embraced Natalie. They hugged tightly and then Francoise held Natalie's shoulders at arm's length. "Why?"
"I told them because you are in danger. I wanted to rescue you." Francoise could tell it was a lie, because her friend wasn't looking at her and playing with the hem of her skirt. She almost expected Ivan to say something, but he remained quiet.
"Please tell me the truth. We won't have much time. You need to be honest with me now," Francoise urged. Natalie remained quiet; she still wouldn't look Francoise in the eyes. "If you were ever my best friend, you need to be honest with me now. We'll be forced to leave soon! Natalie, I beg you to be honest with me."
"Okay! I did it! I'm now the Prima Ballerina! My parents were always so critical of me! This was my chance to make them proud! You were always so lucky and talented! When you were gone, I had my chance to make them proud, and I took it. I'm so sorry!"
Natalie's face blazed hot. She raised shame-filled eyes towards Jean-Paul. The blond man's face grew softer. "Aw, Natalie, did you think I was interested in you? I didn't mean to imply anything further. I'm not, you know, interested. I think of you only as my sister's friend, not someone I would date. It's respect towards Francoise. I'm sorry if I gave you another impression."
"Natalie, is it true? You wanted my position? And to date my brother? That's why you told them? To get rid of me again?" Francoise asked softly, feeling her stomach roil. All the girl did was nod. France gasped as she was yanked off the couch by Jet. He stooped down, but kept a firm grip on Francoise's arm as he put himself in between her and her friend. Something had really set Jet off, and Francoise had no clue what it was.
He got in Natalie's face. "You traitor bitch! People who squeal to the cops are dirty! You stabbed her in the back? She trusted you!"
Natalie didn't answer, she just buried her head in the crook of her arm and cried hysterically. Ivan got in between Jet and Natalie and waved his hands to get them silent. Francoise trained her acute hearing to try to understand what Ivan sensing.
She could hear it, the click of guns. She nodded to Albert's baffled expression. He nodded back and yanked his gloves off. She felt Jet's arm around her waist as Albert and Jean-Paul carefully took defensive positions at the door and window respectively. It was all at Albert's silent direction. Natalie cowered on the couch while Ivan sat on a dining-room chair.
The gunfire ripped through the apartment, however, Jet's acceleration device had Francoise in another world. Slow-motion destruction slammed around them, but Jet pulled her with him, up and then towards the attic access. She watched her brother and Albert shoot out of the window and door, but she didn't see Natalie or Ivan any longer. The metallic whine echoed around her as Jet dragged her with him to the attic.
They dropped out of Jet's acceleration mode. The loud ricochet of bullets slammed into her ears, painfully. Jet jumped up and spun around.
"How do we get out of here!" He shouted over the gunfire.
"But what about...?"
"Ivan has got them! We just worry about ourselves."
She pointed to her left and steadied her footing. "There is a small dormer window. We can get out."
Jet followed her and grabbed at the iron bars covering the small window. He yanked. Francoise joined him. Together, they popped the iron bars off with a loud crack and a rain of wood splinters. They shook it off. Jet helped Francoise towards the opening first when three men in dark suits broke through the door. Jet shielded Francoise from the rain of bullets.
"Jet!"
"Shut..." He staggered to his feet, eyes fixed on the opening. Crimson and gray liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He yanked her towards him. "...up!"
Jet jumped out of the window with Francoise in his arms. She clung to his neck as they were suddenly propelled through the air by his boosters. She bit her lower lip as he cradled her and landed on a rooftop close by her apartment. She didn't part from Jet, but supported him, and had him lay down when he groaned.
"Jet! Jet! Please! Don't panic. I think I can help you. Where did they hit you?"
"The back. On the right," he answered and struggled to turn on his side. She helped him while trying to remember all the information she had learned at Doctor Kozumi's house. She kept her ears sharp. No one was following.
"Do you have a knife?"
"Here," He said, struggled to fish the switchblade out of his pocket, and handed it to her. She quickly cut away a place on his clothing and his artificial skin. She sliced more and revealed silvery, artificial muscles, but, more importantly, it revealed the damaged nerve line that sparked intermittently.
"Jet, you won't be able to move your right arm or breath through your right lung for a while after I cut this. You can still fly at low level, but your lungs are tied to your flying. At least I think think Doctor Gilmore said that." She shook her head. "If I don't do this, it could kill you, because it's frayed."
His head jerked around and met her eyes. The fear, anger, and exhaustion were not unmistakable, but then there was some expression she had never seen before: grim calm. He nodded, "Whatever you got to do."
He turned his face away as she found the wire again. She slipped the blade under and yanked. He cried out briefly and flinched. "Oh good... night... that feels... so fucking... good..."
"Let's go."
He rolled and looked at her with sober eyes. "Save yourself and run for it."
"Come on! We've got to move," she said, helping him up, in spite his larger frame. They staggered down a fire escape and ran down the dark alleyways, using Francoise's enhanced vision. "Where is your apartment?"
"About six blocks over. Heinrich wouldn't be so stupid to show back up there."
"No, they probably haven't figured it out yet. I think that's the only place we have to look for them."
"M'kay." He grimaced and leaned against her as she lead him back towards the fire escape.
France heard Albert's heavy footsteps down the street, behind him were Ivan and Jean-Paul. She checked on Jet, who was laying stomach down on the bed of the loft apartment above the bakery. Albert quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut after the trio were safe inside. She rushed to Jean-Paul and hugged him fiercely.
"What happened?" Albert asked.
Francoise turned to see Albert kneeling beside the bed, examining Jet's wound. The redheaded New Yorker smirked weakly and said. "I did my best Sir Galahad impression, but it didn't work out so well."
"Natalie?" Francoise asked Albert.
"Ivan moved her home. Somehow... with his abilities. We need to move, though. Now that they know we're in Paris, they'll all be here in no time. We have to get out of this country."
"I'll fly you to Switzerland. From there, we'll figure it out. We can sneak the company plane out."
"Great. Let's go," Albert said, helping Jet sit up and support him. Ivan grabbed the suitcase and had a ghost of a devious smile as they left the loft apartment behind.
To Be Continued.