Young Offender, Part 11:
Francoise wiped her arm against her brow and looked around the dusty, rundown room in aggravation. She marched to the front door after adjusting the turquoise headscarf. Francoise took the broom with her and yanked the front door open. She planned to beat something, alright, but it wasn't going to be a rug.
She scanned the rolling, green hills, then she walked around the small, Italian farmhouse and scanned the neglected fig tree grove. She easily spotted bright, red hair among the large, lush leaves. Francoise marched towards the grove, clenching the broom handle tighter. She stopped in front of Jet, who lounged under a fig tree, arm draped across his eyes.
"Is this where you've been all morning? You haven't done one thing on the list!"
He said something in rolling Italian she didn't catch. "What did you say?" she demanded.
"I can't read French for one."
"I wrote it in English and you know it!"
Jet gave her an annoyed, one-eyed glare at being caught excusing his laziness at her expense. Now she had a new pet peeve about Jet, this one ranking in the top three: laziness. He then sat up and loudly insisted, "I went to town and ran those errands you wanted done!" He then crossed his arms and grew dour. "I even checked the mail for you," he said in sloppy French.
Her aggravation momentarily quelled. "Jean-Paul?"
"Nothing yet," Jet mumbled. "Don't worry, it's only been three weeks. I'm sure he's been careful." Jet yawned and stretched. He shot a wide leaf a glare. "I even schlepped all those newspapers up here, but Heinrich was still dead asleep. The bum," he said, switching to shaky, but much improved German.
Francoise grew aggravated all over again. "You're one to talk! I've been waiting on you to fix those windows upstairs," she snapped in French. Jet's face grew vexed.
He waved his hand dismissively, and replied in German, "Just keep the door to the room upstairs closed and no one will know."
"You are impossible! That spare room is filthy and moldy. I'm tired of finding birds in there."
"Get Heinrich to do it. I've never fixed anything like that in my life."
"Well it's time you learned. You know, I'm not some den mother to you two men. Everyone has to contribute."
Jet let out a disgruntled snort and hopped to his feet. "Fine! Sick! And tired! Of hearing! 'Bout it!" Then Jet said some stuff in English that she strongly suspected was him calling her names.
They walked back to the farmhouse, him grumbling under his breath while she seethed in silence. When they reached the front door, Jet turned and asked Francoise, "Is Ivan still out?"
"Yes. I'm kind of worried. I thought he would be awake by now."
"Me too. I mean, three weeks?" His expression turned from concerned to vexed. "Once he wakes up, you can start picking on him to do chores 'round this dump."
Francoise ignored him and went on to finish her sweeping as he jogged upstairs. She was very intent on her dusting, but her enhanced hearing would let her get distracted from time to time. She heard the downstairs bedroom door open and close. She paused and watched Albert walk into the living room.
"Good morning," he said in a monotone; his eyes were bloodshot. He walked past her to the stack of newspapers on a small, red-velvet settee. He sat beside them and tore into the first one.
"It's eleven, almost the afternoon. You went to bed a nine last night so you overslept by six hours. It's really not healthy," she said, hating to pry into the man's pain, but worried about the bleakness she'd glimpsed more and more as the days passed by.
"Hun? Oh? I didn't realize. I was just too tired to get up," Albert explained absently.
"Why do you look at those newspapers all the time. Can't you put them aside for one day? There is so much to be done around here."
He lowered the paper and gave Francoise a confused look. He glanced around the dim room as if he didn't recognize it. She crouched in front of him, and gave him her brightest smile.
"You'll feel better in a clean house."
He nodded and eventually gave her lop-sided grin. "You're right. What do you want me to do?"
A loud crash came from upstairs, along with English, Italian, and German mixed into strange bastardized swearing. "Go check on Jet. I think he just hurt himself fixing the windows."
He gave a chuckle and hurried upstairs. She glanced down at the American newspaper and deciphered the English. It read, "Martin Luther King, Jr. was convicted of minor offenses in Albany, Georgia as a result of his attempt to desegregate that city, however other charges will remain pending."
As she finished her dusting she realized what Albert was doing. He was trying to find a good time for them to go to America, probably New York. He probably didn't feel it was safe, now, with the Civil Rights conflicts going on. She knew they had to stay as far away from countries in turmoil; Albert had made that abundantly clear. Jet had also made it clear, even though he was starting to love Italy, his passionate heart was still in New York. He was enjoying getting to know where his grandparents had come from, which Francoise found odd, considering his animosity towards his parents.
Francoise went to the kitchen and started slicing a salad for lunch. She knew Albert was agreeing more and more with Ivan's view. That would mean she would have to go to America with them for a while, which would make visits with Jean-Paul impossible.
She controlled her breathing as the knife shook in her hand. She would wait until Albert brought it up. She just couldn't go. She would be firm and insist on staying in Europe; after all, they hadn't seen signs of the Black Ghost at all. Why should they move, unless they had to, was what Francoise wondered.
Countess Yana glanced around the large airplane hanger and leaned on the black walking cane she carried. The light pink crystal on top pulsed under her palm. The twins each had crewmen, the last two living, by the necks with their electric whips. The men didn't live much longer. The twins each flicked their whips and released the men.
"No one knows where that girl's brother went to..." Pollux said.
"...and we've just run out of leads," Castor finished.
There was a faint moan. The three of them turned to see a crewman had survived and was trying to crawl towards a side door. Yana glared, hoisted her walking cane, and pointed the pink crystal topper at the man. Her thumb brushed a small trigger.
Nothing visible to the eye occurred, but the crewman started thrashing, groaning, and foaming at the mouth. He collapsed on the concrete floor, and she released the small trigger of her sound wave weapon.
The three of them walked over to the now dead man; Castor turned him over with his foot, avoiding the blood pouring from his face. She turned to Pollux and said, "I told you to be careful!"
"Sorry, Countess. He seemed dead to me."
Her eyes narrowed as she placed the top of her walking cane to the tip of his nose. Both twins' eyes went wide, sweat beaded on their bows. She withdrew her cane and gave them a sardonic expression. "Make sure next time."
"Yes, ma'am," they both mumbled.
"Countess Yana," Ember called out, walking down a stairway from a plane, a tattered book in hand. His hand jerked towards the cargo plane after he readjusted his sniper rifle over his left shoulder. "This was the plane 003's brother used, and he did, indeed, work for this company. Jean-Paul Arnoul. He took a forty-five minute flight from there."
Ember stepped to the concrete floor, walked up to her, and handed her the book. Her chessmen charm-bracelet gave a slight jingle as she opened the dog-eared book. He pointed out, "He left his destination blank. He had no choice but to fill out fuel consumption and some general information."
Ember walked over to a tattered map tacked to the corrugated tin wall. She walked up behind him while he studied it, tracing his finger in a concentric circle around their current position. "I think we can find the city he went to."
"Good," she said. He yanked the map down as the twins joined them.
She turned towards the redheaded oaf. He was standing in the middle of a bunch of smashed crates. "You! Destroy this place totally!"
"No! We don't have time for that. We have to find them within a week and there are dozens of villages it could be," Ember snapped. She turned and scowled at him. She was about to castigate the man, but she admitted he was right.
"Twins, Oaf, get a car ready for us to travel. Be discrete."
"Yes, ma'am," the twins answered, running off with the oaf in tow.
She whirled on the sharpshooter and gave him a frosty smile. "Anxious to get back to your precious family, Ember?"
He gave her a nasty look before lighting a cigarette. "Same as you, Yana." They loathed each other a great deal, but at least they knew they could be allies until they reached their goal: being with their families.
She controlled her fury and nodded. "Don't ever countermand one of my orders again, Ember."
He turned on his heels and walked after the rest of the group. Yana took several deep breaths before joining them. She would have to find those errant Double Zero Cyborgs quicker, or else Ember and her alliance would crumble.
"Man, you two are so quiet. What's going on?" Jet asked after lighting candles at the small dinner table. He was used to his companions chatting. The silence was eerie to him. "Next time, we squat at a house with electricity," he said in an effort to strike up a conversation.
Francoise shot him a tense look; her lips were clenched together as she set a large pot of stew on the table. He'd never seen such a glare from her so he just shut his mouth. Albert sat down, put his elbows on the dining table, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. His gaze was a vacant contrast to Francoise's hostile expression.
Jet shook his head and sat to Albert's left; Francoise sat across from him. She ladled stew in a bowl and handed it to Jet silently. He finally asked, "So what'd I do now to piss you off? Thought you'd be happy that window is fixed."
"I'm fine," she snapped, handing Albert his stew bowl.
"Whatever," Jet snapped back at her and started to eat.
They ate in silence; only a few bird songs punctuated the dusk accompanying their dinner. Jet wanted to leave; after all, he had never eaten too many meals with his parents. Now, it was as if he were trapped with these two in some twisted family unit he didn't understand or ask for. The more he glanced at them, the more his resentment grew for the Black Ghost. But his feelings for Albert and Francoise were something he couldn't understand. Right now it felt like raw anger mixed with bitterness, but that didn't even seem right. He just wasn't sure.
"How much longer you plan on keepin' us here, Heinrich? I thought you said we could move to New York soon?" Jet had realized one thing in his time with his companions. Albert was a very brilliant man, and he was older. Older than Jet by twelve years, but they seemed more like twelve decades.
Normally, Jet would still be rebelling against Albert and be thumbing his nose at Albert's leadership. Jet's survival instincts kicked in and he decided to let Albert do his thing and lead, because the German man was his best chance to get back home. Granted, if the man said something he didn't like, he'd do his own thing!
The man's blue eyes, went from apathy to thoughtful. "Not yet, and I said I would look and see when it was most likely. It wouldn't be a good idea, now. There is a lot of civil unrest happening right now in The States. Some of the people who are trying to oppress others could be agents of the Black Ghost. I just don't know. This Martin Luther King fellow is trying to get equal rights for everyone in America, but he was arrested recently. Why? It's just too sinister."
"Yeah, I heard of him," Jet mumbled. He hadn't given too much attention to the Civil Rights movement; after all, it was mostly in states like Georgia and Alabama, but it must be getting more intense since the Black Ghost had kidnapped and altered him. Jet brightened up and slapped his hands on the rough, wooden table. "Don't you think the Black Ghost couldn't follow us through a bunch of chaos? We could hide out better if there was a lot of confusion and if everyone is fightin'. Attention won't be too focused. We could really throw them off in New York. Come on! Let's pack up and go!"
France bolted out of her chair, snatched up her bowl, and marched over to the wash basin. He watched her shoulders stoop and shake slightly; her back was to them. Jet glanced over at Albert, baffled, but the older man looked just as confused.
Jet sat back and let Albert stand and walk over to her. "What's wrong, Mademoiselle Francoise? Are you okay?"
She turned around, looking in a lot of pain. Jet felt a spike of guilt. He kicked himself for letting her get under his skin. He found himself getting irritable with her for making him feel guilty. She wiped off her tear-stained cheeks and glared up at Albert, who still looked baffled.
"When were you going to tell me you were going to move us to America?" she accused.
"It's nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be soon. I'm keeping our options open."
"So you figured we'd leave Europe soon? From the only family I have? It's not fair!" She blurted out in French almost too fast for Jet to understand. "Don't I have a say-so in where we go?"
"Yes, of course." Albert looked positively irritated, he leaned his back on the food preparation table with crossed arms. "I didn't mean to exclude you. I see you're upset. I thought you wouldn't want to be bothered with the details."
Even Jet knew that was the wrong thing to say to a crying dame. He ducked his head and fought the smile coming across his face. For once she was going to yell at Albert, not him. Sure enough, her face turned beet-red, but she turned back to the washbasin.
"From now on, I will be included in all your plans and ideas, Monsieur Heinrich. I'm not a child! I was about to embark on a career and manage my own affairs in Paris. Just because you're older... and a man... doesn't give you any more say so over our destinies." Her voice was so calm and eerie Jet shivered; he had never once seen her quite like this. It made him more grateful Albert was her target and not him.
Jet could see Albert's face flush in the flickering candlelight. Francoise then stepped up to Albert, shoulders squared. She said, "After everything all of us have been through, I won't let you take away even more of my freedom and dignity."
Albert's expression grew shamefaced. He gradually nodded, shoulders slumping. "I'm very sorry. I didn't give you the respect I should have. You, Jet, and Ivan seem so young to me, sometimes. What we've been through has been a living nightmare. My good intentions of not putting any more stress on your shoulders has made things worse."
Francoise nodded, looking on the verge of tears, yet again. Jet opened his mouth to point out the possibility of moving to New York hadn't been settled. Francoise gasped and turned her head to the staircase. Jet looked over to see what she had picked up.
He was just as shocked to see Ivan floating downstairs, a blue haze surrounding him. Ivan's hair was tousled, and his eyes still had dark circles under them. His body moved to the table, a chair skidded across the floor, he drifted into the seat. A bowl of stew seemed to fix itself and slide in front of Ivan.
"So what have I missed?" he asked in French.
"I'm just so glad you're awake again," Francoise gushed, clutching Ivan's left forearm, giving it a slight shake. He gave her a weak smile and continued to eat the stew with a shaky, overhanded grip on his spoon.
She had felt a wave of relief while Albert had explained their situation over the last three weeks. Now that he was finished eating, she was anxious over Ivan's extended sleep. She asked, "So why did you sleep so long? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine. I overtaxed myself. I need to be more judicious with my abilities. From time to time, I'll fall into these deep sleeps. Don't concern yourself too much with my cycles. My power exceeds my body."
"That's so horrible. It just goes to show the cruelty of the Black Ghost to not let you grow like normal," she said, patting his arm, squeezing it slightly, and then letting him go. She turned her head to Albert and said, "We must keep him away from those beasts."
"We will." He gave a nod and finished his stew.
"Hey! Just wait a minute! You didn't answer my question! Are we ever going to get to New York or not? I'm sick of you dancing around the issue, Heinrich."
"Oh why are you so keen on uprooting us when we're in a nice, safe place?" Francoise demanded of Jet before Albert could answer. Jet could feel her malice towards him. All eyes were now on him glaring back at her.
"Oh wait a minute, sister! You had your chance at being home. Not once did I give you shit over being in Paris. It wasn't my fault it didn't work out!"
"Well if they showed up in Paris, don't you think they can track you down in New York? It's stupid! We need to stay in a city none of us has been in before, like this one. It's so small, the Black Ghost could never find us!" she insisted.
"And like I said," Jet bolted out of his chair, leaning over towards Francoise, "they won't find us there! I know what I'm doing."
She jumped to her feet and met his eyes. "Why go there when you don't even want to see your parents! I have a brother here! You don't even have family you care..." Francoise stopped what she was about to say, but it was too late. A shock ran through Jet. He imagined his fervid expression told her he understood what she was about to accuse him of, and that it had wounded him deep. She shook her head, now looking tearful, and regretful. "Oh, Jet, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to imply you didn't care about your parents."
"I have friends there. Loyal friends who wouldn't sell me out to the Black Ghost. Not like you!" he hurled back, wanting to hurt her as much as she hurt him.
Francoise looked sick, as if her stomach were roiling. Now Jet felt guilty and like a cruel beast. Why lash out like that at her? In the extreme? Before he could figure it out, Albert stood up and put a hand on Jet's trembling shoulder. He certainly didn't want another "adult" telling him what to do, feel, or say! The New Yorker flinched away and glared at Albert.
Jet demanded, "So what's it going to be? Paris or New York?"
"We stay here for now. I made you a promise, and I intend on keeping it. I will get you back to New York, but not while The States are in such turmoil," Albert said solemnly. Jet swirled around and marched towards the door.
"Fuck both of you!" he shouted, before running out of the side kitchen door. He ran a few steps towards the fig tree grove, leaped into the air, and flew upwards and to the north.
"Jet! Come back! I'm so sorry!" Francoise shouted to the dark sky.
"Let him go burn off steam," Albert said in nastiness and aggravation.
"But..."
/I'm keeping track of him, Francoise/ Ivan projected in her head.
/I only said what I did to make him realize he should stay here. There is nothing worth risking his life over. Doesn't he realize that?/
Ivan said after finishing his stew, "I shouldn't tell you both this, but it will help you realize why he has such a drive to get back to New York. Right before the Black Ghost kidnapped him, he was in a street fight with another person. He ended up stabbing the other teenager to death. He really wants to get back there so he can make sure his gang didn't suffer any retaliation for his bad action, whether from the police or the rival gang. He cares a great deal about his gang. He still sees them as his family."
"So it's true. He did commit murder," Francoise murmured, as she sank down into her chair at the dinner table. She shook her head and tried processing it. As much as she loathed Jet, she still couldn't picture him doing that sort of thing. Something, a faint hum Francoise couldn't decipher, was at the back of her consciousness. She looked over to Ivan, his head was cocked.
/We need to get on our protective uniforms and our ray guns./
To be continued.