Awareness came to Remy slowly. He had woken only enough to be dimly aware that he was asleep. He wanted nothing more than to fall further into the unconscious rest beckoning him, but some blurred memory, some instinct, prodded him towards consciousness. His limbs were heavy with fatigue and he didn't immediately attempt to move the deadened objects. Instead he tried to shake the fogginess of sleep and focus on his surroundings.
He lay on something soft and was comfortably warm. The pressure on his wrists and ankles told him he had been restrained. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he shifted slightly. He kept his movements small and hoped not to draw attention to his wakeful state. Testing the limits of his restraints led him to discover they afforded him almost no movement.
He wore only his boxers. This confused him and he fought with his memory. Remy tried to recall if he had been dressed when he was taken, but he didn't remember being taken. He started to lower his empathic defenses in order to get a feel for the room, but was suddenly hit with the memory of accidentally invading another's mind. He slammed his defenses back up, struggling to place the memory into context.
"Remy?" a voice interrupted his sluggish thoughts, "Remy, are you awake?"
His eyes blinked open and Remy turned his head towards the source of the sound. "Belle?" he croaked, "where are we?"
"I'm not sure. He blindfolded me after he tossed you into the back of his car." Belle sat in a straight-backed, wooden chair. She was still in her torn nightgown and was bound tightly to the chair.
"He?" Remy questioned. His mind was still clouded with exhaustion.
"The man from across the hall," Belle replied calmly.
Remy struggled to put the pieces together, "Mais, we still in Kyoto, non?"
"No. I don't think so. We drove for awhile. We're still in Japan, but not in the city."
"Oh," Remy replied dumbly as he looked about the nearly bare room they had been stashed in. There was a dresser that he suspected to be empty and a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. He didn't see a door. He assumed it to be behind him, but his restraints would not allow him to turn. Belle's chair was positioned so that her back was to Remy and therefore also the presumed door. The was no window.
Remy wiggled on the bare mattress. He tested his restraints a little more forcefully than before, but had no more luck moving. He stopped scanning the room and peered at Belle. The chair looked uncomfortable.
"Why'd I rate the bed, and not you?" he asked.
"It probably had something to do with the fact that you were unconscious the whole way here," Belle answered.
"Are you hurt?" it occurred to Remy that he should have asked that already.
"No."
Remy fell silent.
...
"LeBeau Artisant Boutique," Henri spoke into his desk phone. If the caller was actually a tourist, he would pass the call off to the salesclerk. It almost never was.
"Hello, this is Sato Gorou. May I speak with Mr. Henri LeBeau?"
Henri blinked. It was very unusual for Gorou to place an unscheduled call. "Yes, this is Henri. We always appreciate your support."
"I hope I am not interrupting. I need to speak with you about Remy."
"What's wrong?" Henri asked. He wondered how Remy had managed to find trouble so far away from his usual co-conspirators.
"He has not attended any of his classes or training sessions for the past three days."
Henri frowned in confusion. His brother was good at finding trouble, but it was unlike him to blow off his responsibilities entirely. Remy would be even less likely to do so when it might reflect badly on either their father or their Guild. Cutting his university classes was one thing. Failing to show up for training session with a thief of Takenaka Takera's caliber was something else entirely. It would be considered the height of rudeness.
"Takenaka Takara Sensei received a brief message from Remy apologizing for being unable to attend their session. Your brother excused himself to help a friend handle an urgent personal matter. He did not divulge the identity of the friend, nor the nature of the emergency."
"I wasn't aware that Remy had made any friends in Japan," Henri replied cautiously. His brother had become rather socially isolated since traveling to Japan, and Henri hated to see it happen. Making friends had been a slow and painful process for Remy when he had first been introduced to the Guild. The reclusive nature of Guild Society meant that it could be somewhat unreceptive to newcomers. Belle's early and easy acceptance of Remy had been the only reason Henri had not fought Jean Luc's proposed betrothal of the two. Now Remy was a foreigner in the Japanese guild, and once again found himself slightly apart from the insular society he was amidst. This time, without the support and companionship of Belle or his family. Henri did not wish to appear rude, so he bit back the sigh that tried to escape. Perhaps this was nothing more than his brother acting-out a bit because he was unhappy.
"I do not believe the friend he went to aid is local," Gorou replied. "He has not returned to his dormitory since he left."
Henri refocused on the conversation, "Where is he?"
"I am sorry. I do not know," replied Gorou, "I have been unable to track him."
"He's missing?" Henri debated how alarmed he should be. On the one hand Remy appeared to have left of his own free will. On the other hand, he'd been sent abroad for a reason.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I will keep trying to locate him," Gorou stated meekly. It had been his job to keep track of Remy.
Henri hesitated. He was torn between the urge to lay into the man for his failure and the urge to reassure the man that he was not at fault. Remy was the youngest fully ranked master thief in the Guilds for a reason. If he wanted to go somewhere unnoticed, he most likely would be successful.
In the end, Henri did neither. It would not be prudent to create conflict by sanctioning the man either officially or unofficially. Henri was also unwilling to absolve the man. It should not have taken three days to notify him of Remy's disappearance.
"Thank you for the call," Henri said in a decidedly neutral tone, "I hope to speak with you again soon."
"Yes, thank you for taking the time to speak with me," Gorou replied, "goodbye."
Henri placed the phone receiver back into its cradle carefully. Then he snatched it up again immediately, and dialed his wife.
...
Logan paced in front of a modest summer home. He had once shared it with his late wife Mariko. At the time, the surrounding gardens had been immaculately maintained. The gardens had long since been left to their own devices and now held a wilder beauty.
Logan grew increasingly impatient with each step. Fury had taken his sweet time returning Logan's call. Now, Logan's frustration mounted as he waited for the other man to arrive.
He didn't know what to make of the two kids he had tied up in his guest room. Fury was thrown by the two miscreants ages, but Logan didn't think that their youth should buy them any leeway. They were unrepentant career criminals. They showed no signs of trying to get out of the "family business." They had already committed murder, theft, and the destruction of evidence. They had their whole lives to get worse.
On the other hand, Logan was sure they were in over their heads. He recognized a member of the Hand when he came across one, and the assassin after the girl was a member of the Hand. It was not an organization to take lightly. Logan had no stake in a territorial war between assassins. If they didn't need information from Boudreaux, he would be tempted to let her reap what she had sown.
...
"Go 'way Etienne," Lapin muttered without looking up from his computer screen. There had to be a way to track the phone Remy wasn't answering. Even if Lapin, himself, had been the one to ensure that it couldn't be traced before Remy left New Orleans.
"But 'm hungry,: Etienne whined, "dey say I gotta have somtin' healthy like celery." He mad a face to indicate his disgust, "I need ya to steal me some ice cream."
"Steal some ya'self."
"I tried. I got caught."
"Den eat the celery."
Etienne gave Lapin a look of utmost betrayal. The look was replaced with a sneaky expression, "If ya get me ice cream, I won' tell no one you've been hackin' without supervision."
Lapin scowled and then shoved the smaller boy roughly away. "I said get lost," he snarled, just as a door slammed open.
Both boys looked up. Mercy LeBeau strode over to them and looked down at Lapin with a furious expression.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
"Who?" Lapin tried to look as innocent as he could manage with Etienne still sprawled on the ground beside him.
Mercy's eyes narrowed and her expression darkened further, "Don' you be givin' me any of yo' lip or your run around. Ya just tell me where Remy be right now."
"I don' know where Remy be," Lapin lied automatically. Then he tried not to frown as he realized that was the truth. "Remy didn' tell me where he was goin' when he left. Le Roi forbid it," he added for good measure, and to work in a good lie.
"So if I get Theo in here to go through your browser history, he won' find nothin'?" Mercy questioned.
Lapin hesitated. If he was honest, Theo may be able to help him track Remy's phone. Theo was not as creative or innovative as Lapin, but he was older, more experienced, and had mastered a larger spectrum of technical skills than Lapin.
Mercy pounced on his hesitation, "So ya do know where he be!"
"Non!" Lapin cried, "I don'."
Mercy assessed him. "Where was he de' last time ya knew where he was?"
"Kyoto," Lapin replied. There was no sense in lying about that. Clearly, everyone already knew Remy was not where he was supposed to be.
"Why?" Mercy pressed.
"He wanted to visit de museums?" Lapin offered weakly.
"Try again."
"He decided to explore de temples and see how hard dey are to climb in an' out of."
"I'm losin' my patience."
"He went to meet a girl," Lapin tried a half-truth.
Mercy's eyes narrowed, "What girl?"
"A geisha."
"Remy went to meet a geisha in Kyoto?"
"Yes."
"So he met some girl wit' heavy makeup in Tokyo and den blew off all his classes and trainin' to follow her to Kyoto?"
"Er... non," Lapin stumbled and tried to ignore Etienne's snickering. "He didn' follow her to Kyoto. He met her in Kyoto," Lapin clarified.
"Let me get this straight. Remy had a premonition 'bout a beautiful geisha girl in Kyoto. He blew off all his responsibilities in Tokyo, in order to position himself in just de right time an' place to meet dis girl of his dreams and dey be destined to be together?"
"Er... non."
"So how did he arrange to meet dis Geisha in Kyoto, if he didn't already know her and it weren't the intervention of unconquerable destiny proddin' him there?"
"Um.. well you see," Lapin stumbled, "Kyoto has lots of geisha so Remy went dere to meet a geisha, mais not a specific geisha.
"Right. So ya sayin' Remy didn' know dere bound to be geisha in a city de size of Tokyo also. And even though he be engaged to Belladonna, he blew off his responsibilities and went to another city to pick-up chicks."
"Er.. oui?" Lapin replied uncertainly. He tried to figure out if he had managed to get Remy into more or less trouble by covering for him.
Mercy went in for the kill. "If he's just off pickin' up chicks den why can' ya tell me exactly where he be?"
...
Remy peered around the room again. It was clearly neither a hotel room, nor a holding cell. Remy frowned. He wondered why had he been expecting a holding cell. He closed his eyes and attempted to sort through his scattered thoughts. He had come to Kyoto because Belle had called about a job gone wrong. He had destroyed evidence and discovered that Shield was watching Belle. Shield! Remy opened his eyes again. The room didn't look like a government containment facility. Had he been wrong about the man from across the hall being another Shield agent?
"What's he want with us?" Remy questioned.
Belle hesitated. She was uncertain whether her husband meant the clawed man who had abducted them or the masked figure that the climbed in her window. She settled on the man with claws. It was fairly obvious that the other had wanted her dead.
"I don't know," Belle replied, "he didn't strike me as the type to answer questions and I was busy trying to wake you."
"Wake me?"
"You were unconscious remember?"
"Non."
...
The sound of a vehicle approaching drew Logan's attention away from the two young criminals. A few moments later a Honda K-car came into sight. As Nicholas Fury stepped out, Wolverine got straight to business.
"They're tied up downstairs. The boy only just regained consciousness and the girl ain't talkin'. Literally. She won't say one word in my presence, and I ain't forced the issue yet. Their luggage is on the floor in the sitting room."
"Has she said anything outside of your presence?" Fury asked.
"Nothing with any value. Like I said, the boy just woke up. Plus, they still seem to be tryin' to hide their accents, so I'm guessing they assume the room is monitored." Logan narrowed his eyes at Fury. "What's got you so worked up?"
"My crew found nothing in their hotel room, absolutely nothing," Fury replied with obvious frustration.
"The girl grabbed their bags on the way out. Like I said, they're in the sitting room."
"No, you misunderstand. My crew found nothing in that room. Nothing but hotel furniture. There was no evidence of the smoke bomb, no evidence of your assassin beyond the blood stain, which clearly had a bottle of drain cleaner dumped on it to destroy the evidence. There wasn't even a stray hair anywhere in the room. Even the bathroom drains had been cleared out. That room was swept clean between your departure and my team's arrival and I just don't see how that's possible. There was only a twenty minute window for someone to find out what happened, show up, clean the scene, and disappear without a trace. Thirty minutes tops. I just don't see how it's possible."
"Unless someone was already there," Wolverine stated.
"Unless someone was already there," Fury agreed.
"I never noticed anyone else lingering about the kids."
"Even if there was, it would have taken more than one person to clean that room so thoroughly in twenty minutes!"
"You think it was the Hand?"
"It might explain the cleaner on the blood stain, our missing corpse, and the disappearing incendiary device. But, why would they clean out the bathroom drains?"
"They wouldn't. They wouldn't clean up after Bonnie and Clyde. They don't clean up after anyone but their own."
"I know."
"So what are you thinking," Logan asked.
"Is there any way the suspects just kept their room that clean?"
"No. I didn't hear anything to indicate they were being that careful. And the boy was in the shower when I went over there. There's no way the drains were clean, unless someone cleaned them after we left. The kid didn't even bother turning the water off or getting dressed before confronting me." Logan tilted his head in contemplation, "I was quiet while fighting with the girl too. I think the kid's either a got to be a spook or he has senses like mine."
"Fantastic," Fury said sarcastically, "did he use his mutant abilities around you?"
"Yeah," Logan replied, "but he was standing behind me, so I didn't get a good look at what he was doing. He held something glowing up to my throat. It was obviously some sort of threat, but I don't know what would have happened if the Hand hadn't interrupted our stand-off. Kid could have been bluffing for all I know."
"Something glowing?" Fury sounded unimpressed.
"It was pink," Logan offered.
...
Julien refrained from sighing as he rode in the back of a comfortable town car. He was flanked by men in dark non-descript clothing. Julien leaned his back against the car's seat and attempted to appear unruffled and unconcerned, while warily observing the men on either side of him.
The Hand had been kind enough not to blindfold him, but they had been driving for hours in a route so circuitous that Julien honestly had no idea if they were miles from where they started or merely blocks. The darkened windows gave him few clues about the surrounding terrain. He was weary of the drive, but he didn't dare shift or fidget. He had gotten into the vehicle willingly for Belle's sake. However, he was not so suicidal as to risk showing any signs of his growing impatience. Nor did he want to risk that an ill-thought movement might be misinterpreted as aggressive.
Had Belle even taken the Hand into consideration while planning her hit? Did she not realize that sending her deep into the territory of rival assassins was a test? She was meant to prepare for and deal with the rival organization. It was a test of her diplomatic skills, or a test of her ability to fly below the radar. Whatever approach she took, she was meant to either pacify or go unnoticed by the Hand. Instead, she had butchered one of their assassins in her hotel room.
Smoothing this over without involving their father would be difficult.
"Gorou Hashimoto's dead," Fury stated.
"When?" Logan growled. Had the boy been lying when he told the girl that he'd left the man alive?
"About an hour ago," Fury answered.
"So there's definitely someone else involved in this?"
"Yes."
"Boudreaux could have contacted someone. She didn't seem happy that LeBeau left the guy alive."
"Did you hear her contact someone?" Fury asked.
"No," Wolverine replied slowly.
"Which leaves texting or email," Fury concluded, "neither of which our techs have had any luck accessing."
The two men stood in silence for a moment. Each gazed out at the overgrown garden surrounding them, watching for signs of life. Each wondered how long it would be before the Hand caught up with them.
Fury broke the silence, " I want to see their luggage."
...
"And you got de truth outta Lapin?" Jean Luc questioned.
"Mercy sighed, "I reckon' I got enough ta piece together somethin' approximatin' de truth. Remy went to Kyoto fo' reasons unknown. He was dere three days before goin' missing. There was an explosion in de hotel room he was usin' and he ain't been seen nor heard from since. De hotel room was registered to Joy Patterson."
Henri snorted softly, "Despite his refusal to trim his hair, Remy wouldn't pass for a femme."
"So dere may be some truth to Lapin's claim dat Remy be in Kyoto to meet random femmes, or dere may be some truth ta Lapin's fist claim dat he went ta meet a girl," Mercy replied.
"Belladonna is in Kyoto," Jean Luc interrupted before his son and daughter-in-law could descend into rampant speculation.
"Papa?" Henri questioned, "your spies been earnin' overtime?"
Jean Luc spun his laptop to face the other three occupants of the room. "A tourist posted a video of the hotel's evacuation on You-Tube."
Henri, Mercy, and Jacques searched the footage for familiar faces. Belle crossed the screen on the far side. She was dragging luggage and clearly following someone, but whomever it was, was out-of-frame.
Henri swore softly, "Dis is gonna blow-up all over everything. Ain't it poppa?"
"Oui, if it gets out. Mais, my spies have been workin' overtime, and dey tell me Marius don' know nothin' bout any of dis yet," Jean Luc replied.
Mercy's eyebrows flew up, "How?"
"Unlike Remy, Belle cleared her little vacation wit her pere before takin' it." Jean Luc explained. "Marius believes she just be sight-seeing after completing an assignment. He don' expect her back for anoder week. And he don' know Remy's wit her or about de explosion."
"Dat can't last. Surely someone will be watchin' de news comin' outta Kyoto until Belle gets back and de investigation into de death of whomever she killed goes cold."
"De media seems to be ignoring de incident entirely. I sent some Thieves to scope out the best way to make sure dey don' take an interest in de story. Mais, dey reported back dat de local press be under a lotta pressure not to report de incident."
"De Assassins?" asked Henri.
"Non, I told ya, Marius be blissfully ignorant."
"Henri frowned, "And you're sure none of his people got enough loyalty to Belle to try to clean dis up without his knowin' about it?"
"It's possible, I suppose," Jean Luc allowed dubiously, "mais, all indications are dat de pressure bein' put on de media stems from a local source."
"What source?"
"Ain't sure exactly," Jean Luc answered. "Some of it be comin' from de hotel. Mais dis ain't just a few greedy folks takin' bribes. Dese people be scared of goin' near de story."
"Dat can't last either though," argued Mercy, "Eventually someone's gonna be bold enough ta report it. Especially if it's already all over de web."
"Maybe if it were an interesting enough story," interjected Jacques. "Mais, de authorities already reportin' no injuries, no casualties, and dere blamin' de explosion on a faulty light fixture. Ain't no reporter gonna risk dere neck to report dat some tourists missed a couple hours sleep before goin' back to bed."
"Stupider dings have been reported."
"Not at personal risk, and not when dere are more interesting murders to report."
"Who'd Belle kill anyway?"
"No idea. Kyoto's a big city. Could have been anyone. Mais, de morn' after de explosion dere was a very public assassination of de CEO of Kyoto's largest bank. Dat should hold everyone's attention for a while."
...
Remy was quiet again and it worried Belladonna. He did not have a quiet disposition. She considered saying something reassuring, but it really wasn't in her nature. Remy had always been a very reassuring person, but Belle tended more towards blunt, brutal honesty. She didn't see an immediate escape from their predicament and didn't believe that diminishing the seriousness of the situation would help matters any.
Belle had a sneaking suspicion that Remy had caused the explosion in the hotel room, although she doubted that he had meant to. That worried her as well. The control that he'd been gaining over his mutant powers seemed to be slipping and she wasn't sure what it meant.
Now they were being held captive and it would be at least five days before anyone realized they were missing or in trouble.
A floorboard creaked and Belle instinctively strained against her bonds before forcing herself to still. The way her legs were tied to the chair legs prevented her from getting the leverage she needed to be able to lift the chair from the floor even a little. At best, she might be able to tip over with enough rocking. but even if she managed that, she doubted she'd be able to wiggle herself around enough to look at Remy or the door. Lying in an undignified heap on the dusty floor would not improve their situation anymore than uttering words of false comfort.
...
A petite woman with brown hair nervously routed through the mail. She was certain that she had seen something from that hotel in Kyoto when Paul had brought in the mail. She'd waited to open it until he left for lunch. A moment later she was keeping one eye on the door, while slitting the top of the envelope open with a slender knife.
It was a letter from the hotel apologizing for the disturbance on the 8th. The letter went on to explain that the source of the explosion had not yet been fully determined, but there was no structural damage and an inspection of the hotel's electrical systems proved them safe. The fixtures in the affected room would be replaced as a precaution and the hotel management hoped that Ms. Patterson would consider staying with them again in the future. The letter promised that a full refund for her interrupted stay would be made promptly. Marcie bit her lip. A refund would attract attention. Julien wouldn't like that. Who did she know in accounting that could help her?
After what seemed like an eternity of sitting, waiting, and listening to indiscernible sounds from another room, the hairs on the back of Belle's neck stood up. The door behind her had opened. Bedsprings squeaked softly behind her. "He's not awake," stated a voice by the door. "Should we move him?" asked a voice by the bed. "Nah, let's more the girl instead," the first voice replied. Belle recognized it as the voice of the man with claws.
Belle sat very still and did not give into the urge to strain against her bonds in the futile effort to see what was going on. She unexpectedly had to stifle the urge to emit an undignified squawk when she was suddenly lifted from behind. Even with bare floor boards, she had not heard the man's approach. As she was turned towards the door her gaze passed over Remy's still form, the pile of dust covers that had been hastily pulled from the furniture, and an undistinguished, unimpressive man in a rumpled gray suit. Her clawed captor removed her from the room with the same ease that most would have used to move an empty chair.
She was carried into a room that looked like it was intended to be some sort of parlor, but the furniture remained covered and the room was heavy with dust, so it was difficult to be certain. Belle frowned at the sight of her own belongings and Remy's strewn about the dirty floor. She was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Only a quick hand catching the top of her chair, kept her from tipping over into the dust herself.
Wolverine extended one claw. He smirked. The flinch was subtle, but there. He affected a casual stance and lightly scratched the side of his face, feigning an itch. It hurt, but the girl didn't need to know that. He watched her eyes widen as the resulting cuts instantly healed over and he wiped the blood off with an old bandana from his pocket. That should go a long way towards preventing any hare-brained ideas she might have about over-powering him.
"So," he finally spoke, "why don't we try this again without interruptions. We'll start with introductions. I'll ask your name and you'll answer, honestly, that it's Belladonna Boudreaux."
"So," he repeated, "what's your name?"
The young woman glared defiantly at him and didn't answer.
Wolverine leaned forwards, holding her gaze and getting into her personal space. "What's your name?" he asked again.
Belle blew a raspberry.
Wolverine calmly wiped his face off again, extended a claw, and ran it along the side of her head. Blonde locks cascaded down around her bare shoulder.
"You may want to consider," he suggested in a helpful tone, "that our time might be limited." He listened to her heart race as she contemplated what he might mean by that. "Eventually," Wolverine continued, "your friends from the Hand are going to catch up with us."
Belle's heart rate briefly slowed as she comprehended that she was not being immediately threatened. Only it lurched forward again as the full weight of the statement hit her. The Hand. The figure in the window was the Hand. She'd not given them one iota of thought until now. A government investigation was nothing compared to the possibility that the Hand believed she had both encroached on their territory and killed one of their members. And they would believe it was her. It had been her hotel room.
Wolverine felt a sense of grim satisfaction as the scent of fear reached him. The girl was finally showing some understanding of the situation she was in. He pressed on, "I doubt that boy in there knows anything of value, does he?"
Belle didn't answer, but the first glimmer of uncertainty was visible through her angry, defiant demeanor.
"He's just along for the ride, right? You got into trouble and then dragged that kid into it with you," Wolverine accused and watched her reaction carefully. Standard practice would be to try to turn the two of them on each other, but the girl hadn't tried to run when she had the chance. She had, in fact, come quietly rather than be separated from the boy. Wolverine was betting it would be more profitable to use the girl's protective instincts against her than to try to turn her against the boy in self-interest.
"He really doesn't know anything of value, does he?" Wolverine asked.
Belle finally spoke, "No, he doesn't."
Wolverine pounced, "Then when the Hand catches up with us, I've got no reason to cart him along to our next location."
Belle's chair gave the slightest wiggle as she attempted to lunge forward despite her bonds. She chastised herself for reacting in anger. She needed to keep a clear head.
Wolverine watched the young woman school her face back into a neutral expression. He questioned her again, "What's your name?"
"Belladonna Boudreaux."
...
"Sit."
Julien bristled at the discourtesy, but sat without comment. He tried not to sneer at the hand motif decorating the office. He supposed it was meant to be subtle, but what could be subtle about seeing the image of hands everywhere you looked when your organization was known as the Hand?
A heavy-set woman in an expensive suit sat across the desk from him. Two of the men who'd ridden with him in the town car flanked the exit.
"Do you represent the American Assassins' Guild?" the woman asked. Clearly she wasn't one for pleasantries.
"Yes," Julien replied. He didn't bother to explain that he represented the New Orleans guild, but couldn't speak for Chicago or LA. Nor did he explain that his father, the head of the Guild, had no idea he was there.
"Why were you working in our territory without our approval?"
Julien bit back a snide remark about not answering to her. "Our assassin is a novice. This assignment was meant to test her diplomatic skills. We wanted to see how she approached you." Julien matched the Hand representative's bluntness and attempted to downplay Belle's position in the Guild. Let the Hand assume that she was just a trainee and not worthy of their notice. Maybe they would let this slide with a little money, a little lost face, and Belle still alive and intact.
"She did not approach us at all."
"I gathered that. She will be dealt with."
"How?"
Julien flinched. This went beyond discourtesy. They dared to presume some say in the Guild's internal affairs. He seethed silently for a moment. Then he replied blandly, "That is for our oversight council to decide. Perhaps we should move on to discuss your compensation for your trouble and your loss."
"In our organization such a grave error would be punished harshly, most likely with the novice's death. After all, such a mistake displays a lack of foresight that could be dangerous for the organization's survival."
Julien did not respond directly to the threat. "Your advice will be given the consideration it deserves," he replied.
The woman frowned, clearly hearing the unspoken sentiment that her advice was worth no consideration at all.
"One of our operatives was killed in this FUBAR," the woman said, "I would expect the matter to be treated with the utmost gravity and consideration by your guild."
Julien pushed aside his curiosity over where the woman had picked up the term FUBAR, and contemplated her hypocrisy. Her operative would have been in no danger, had she not been sent to kill Belle. Had the Hand chosen to use diplomatic channels to demand restitution for the discourtesy of working in their territory without their knowledge, no Hand operative would have been harmed at all.
Julien mused that ultimately this hypocrisy was the Hand's greatest weakness. They treated their own people's lives with so little value, saw them as being so expendable, that they could never send just one assassin to do the job of one assassin. They couldn't trust their own operatives that much. They had to sow seeds of distrust among their own people so that they would spy on one another and keep one another in check.
"We do find this matter to be gravely serious," Julien replied. "After all, we nearly lost one of ours as well. However, we have far fewer assassins in our humble Guild and we cannot value their lives so lightly as to dispose of them for failures they can learn from. We see these failures as 'teachable moments' if you will."
"Perhaps it is true that this girl, who committed the faux pas of working in our territory, is young and inexperienced," the woman allowed with a scowl. "Perhaps she can still be taught better, but what about the men she is working with? You cannot expect us to believe that an operative the caliber of Weapon X is so inexperienced."
Julien could not have been more stunned if the floor dropped out from underneath them. "Weapon X?" he questioned incredulously, "Weapon X is a myth. And Belle was alone. She came alone and she worked alone."
The woman in front of him made a casual gesture with her hand and a slender young woman stepped out of the shadows to place a folder in front of Julien. Looking at her, he saw that she was the twin of the Hand member he had found slaughtered in Belle's hotel room. With some trepidation he reached forward and opened the folder.
Inside lay a photo. No, not a photo, he corrected himself. It was a still, an image clearly frozen and taken from someone's video footage. In it LeBeau was being carried by an unidentified man while Bell followed behind carrying luggage, just as Julien had seen them the night before.
It was impossible. Weapon X was a myth. Surely the man carrying that worthless thief was not the most dangerous killer of all time. The living weapon rumored to be more monster than man. Why hadn't Belle slipped off into the crowd and saved herself? Julien looked dubiously at the Hand representative. Did they honestly expect him to believe their assertion?
...
Fury watched the subtle signs that Remy LeBeau was coming around again. When the boy finally blinked his unusual eyes open, Fury observed them carefully. Written descriptions didn't really do them justice. Nothing he'd read mentioned how they seemed almost luminescent in the dimly lit room.
The boy squinted as if what little light there was, was too much for him. Fury reflected on the fact that the sunglasses were not purely for the sake of hiding those eyes from the public. Or perhaps LeBeau had simply adapted to always having his vision impeded by them?
Remy spoke first, "Who are you?"
Fury contemplated the question. He and Wolverine had agreed that Wolverine would take lead with questioning the suspects. Wolverine's interactions with them had already been significant despite their brevity. Fury didn't believe in changing horses midstream without a damn good reason. Besides, there was a time to intimidate your enemies and a time to be underestimated by them.
"Nicholas Joseph," Fury offered his first and middle names.
"Pleasure to meet you, Nicky." LeBeau actually managed to sound as if this were a normal introduction. "I don't suppose you want to help me up?" he continued.
"No," Fury replied. The bonds did look almost painfully tight, but Fury trusted Wolverine would not have actually harmed the unconscious boy. They had every reason to believe that LeBeau might prove a skilled escape artist in addition to his unknown mutant abilities. LeBeau had already proven capable of getting in and out of their local base of operations. The bonds would stay unless they could transfer him to a secure facility.
LeBeau quirked a smile, "Can't blame me for trying."
"I suppose not," Fury allowed.
There was a small lull in conversation as the two individuals studied one another.
Remy broke the silence again, "Do you work for Shield?"
Fury smiled inwardly. He'd allow LeBeau to control the conversation so long as it kept him talking. "What makes you ask that?" questioned Fury.
The slightest hesitation was the only indication that the boy recognized his own mistake. "You don't look like you work for Kyoto PD, and you ain't British so I didn't figure you were Interpol."
"Not everyone who works for Interpol is British," Fury replied.
"Oh, must just be television then," LeBeau sounded disappointed. Fury considered applauding the performance. If time wasn't scarce, this one would be downright entertaining to interrogate.
"Why do you think I'm in law enforcement?" Fury asked.
LeBeau's eyes widened and Fury wondered if it was for the sake of drama or a genuine slip-up.
"Your friend out there was accusing us of all sorts of crimes," Lebeau exclaimed. "Didn't know what else to think," he continued. "Of course, this don't look like a jail cell," he added as he exaggerated looking around the room, "unless TV got that wrong too."
"You didn't speak with my friend long enough for him to accuse you of anything," Fury stated mildly.
LeBeau frowned, "Well if you aren't law enforcement, then my girlfriend and I have just plain been kidnapped, and you ought to let us go. There's no reason to grab us. We aren't any good for ransom or anything like that."
"You don't think Jean Luc would pay to get you back?" Fury questioned?
LeBeau didn't answer.
...
Belle forced herself to stay calm. She need to breathe evenly and steadily. She would just think about something trivial. Well, with half her head now shaved she would need a wig for the wedding ceremony. Unless she wanted to shave the other half and make a statement out of it. Maybe should keep half shaved and dye the other half in a mixture of the two Guilds' colors to signify the new union? She narrowed her eyes at the beast masquerading as a man in front of her. Unless her entire head was shaved before this conversation was over. Didn't he know touching a woman's hair was a low blow?
...
Fury discreetly glanced at his watch before regarding the boy trussed up on the bed again. It seemed he was recovering. He hadn't drifted out of consciousness again for almost an hour. It was progress. According to Logan's earlier explanation the boy had been unconscious for an alarming length of time before he started to drift in and out. He also had no discernible injuries to explain it. Given the chemist and technician's inability to explain the explosion in the hotel, perhaps they should be more alarmed that the boy was regaining his strength.
Their "conversation" had hit a lull and Fury half expected the child to drift off again. Instead he remained alert and seemed to be trying to discreetly change position on the bed, with no success.
Fury passed the time by projecting the most outlandish, unexpected, and alarming thoughts he could. He watched for a reaction. Nothing. They would need a real telepath to test the boy accurately, however.
...
Wolverine regarded the homicidal homecoming queen in front of him. She was pissed. More pissed than scared. That wasn't good. So far she had given him her name, after he revealed he already knew it. It was a show of cooperation instead of outright defiance. It was a step in the right direction. A baby step. He didn't need a show of cooperation, he needed real cooperation. He scowled. This was going to take time they didn't have.
...
Lapin glanced sideways at Theo. The older man was going through everything on his the computer and was double checking everything Lapin had done or even told him. Lapin sighed. He and Remy were in it deep this time for sure. Jean Luc and his unofficial council were still arguing over who would actually go to Japan to look for Remy. They couldn't risk the Assassins becoming suspicious if the wrong members of the Thieves Guild suddenly went abroad, not with Belle involved in whatever was going on.
...
"You believe this man to be Weapon X?" Julien questioned. He was trying to stall for time. He didn't know what was going on and he needed to think. He could not, however, look like he was stalling for time.
"Are you claiming that he is not?" questioned the Hand spokeswoman.
"I don't know who he is," Julien spoke bluntly, "I've never seen him before. Then, with just the slightest hesitation, he pointed to the unconscious figure carried by the alleged Weapon X. "That boy, however, is a boyfriend of our novice." And how it pained him to admit that out loud. "I don't know what he is doing in Japan, other than apparently being used as leverage against her. He is merely a thief." Julien allowed his distaste to show as he spoke the word "thief." "Do you know anything else about the man carrying him? I had always believed Weapon X to be a myth."
"Are you claiming that your assassin is somehow being manipulated by Weapon X?"
"I can think of no explanation for why our novice would follow a stranger down the streets of Kyoto, except that he is clearly in possession oh her unconscious boyfriend," Julien replied.
And how had that happened anyway? Julien fretted quietly. Belle was formidable alone, but with LeBeau... How was this situation even possible?
"You have not yet shown me any substantial evidence that Weapon X exists, let alone that it is that man there." Julien tried to lead the conversation away from Belle. Maybe he could actually convince them that their so-called "Weapon X" was responsible for the dead assassin.
"Very well," the woman responded, "follow me."
"Where..."
"It is dangerous to be in possession of information on Weapon X. We must keep it in a more secure location than my mere office." The Hand representative gestured to the door, indicating that Julien should proceed her.
Julien fought to keep his expression bland, bored even. He did not want to turn his back on this woman. He did not want to go deeper into the Hand facility. He did not want to travel to some other secret locale. He did not trust these people. He did not want to be near them. He thought of Belle and turned towards the door.
...
Remy tried, and failed, once more to crane his neck to see the man he'd been speaking with. "You know," he stated, "you could at least come around to the other side of the bed where I can see you. It's only polite."
There was a pause while "Nicky" thought it over.
"Alright," he agreed and walked around to settle on the other side.
Remy frowned. This wasn't actually much better. Now he was staring at Nicky's knee. He craned his head again and finally managed to catch sight of Nicky's face. He was slightly startled and disturbed to realize that only one of the man's eyes looked back at him. The other must be glass he realized. He wondered if that initial startled sense of something not being quite right was how other people felt when they caught sight of his own eyes. Nicky, however, didn't seem bothered by the red and black orbs. No disgust. No fear. Just the same calm curiosity and professional determination that he'd been exuding all this time. At least, from what Remy could tell while blocking as hard as he could.
Of course, Nicky had had a better vantage point than Remy. He might have already gotten a glimpse of Remy's eyes even if Remy hadn't seen his.
"You're not holding us for ransom," Remy stated. He was sick of this nonsense and wanted to get to the point already. If they wanted to arrest him and Belle they would be in a holding cell already and not... wherever they were.
"You don't think your father would pay?" the man questioned again, "he's certainly wealthy enough to be a tempting target for such a thing."
Remy huffed. He wasn't impressed by the fact that this man knew the state of Jean Luc's finances. Lapin had already warned them that someone had been poking around. And he knew they hadn't seen anything important or dangerous.
"Whether or not he'd pay ransom for me is irrelevant. You're not holding us for ransom. Why are you holding us?"
"What makes you so certain that we're not holding you for ransom?" Nicky sounded amused.
Remy swore to himself. He did not have time for this. Not when Belle was somewhere else, alone, with that other man and his claws. But he didn't know what else to do other than play this game.
"You wouldn't need to separate us if this was for ransom. You wouldn't need to make conversation with us. You would photograph us or videotape us or something to prove you had us though. And that's the thing you haven't done. So you aren't holding us for ransom. You haven't arrested us neither. So, why are you holding us?"
...
Wolverine regarded the girl in front of him. She'd answered all his questions dutifully and with no open disrespect or hostility. He'd learned nothing. Her name was Belladonna Boudreaux. She was seventeen, almost eighteen. Her father and brother worked at a bank in New Orleans. She was in Japan on vacation. Her boyfriend was studying abroad in Tokyo. They thought it would be fun to meet up in Kyoto and visit the museums and other tourist attractions. Yes, she was skipping school and she shouldn't be, but she wasn't doing anything really wrong or illegal. She didn't understand why he was holding her here. She had borrowed the gun from a family friend for self-protection. Ok, maybe that was a little illegal, but she was a young woman and she was alone in a foreign country for several days before her boyfriend could get away from his own classes and join her. She hadn't just spent the first few days in Tokyo because they'd thought he'd be able to get away and join her sooner. Besides, it's not like she could stay in his dorm room and she might have lost her hotel reservation in Kyoto if she hadn't signed in on the planned day. She didn't want to name the family friend that had lent her the gun. She didn't want to get them in trouble. And she didn't know anything about any murders.
Essentially, she was full of it. And Wolverine was just about out of patience. He picked her up and hauled her back towards the guest room.
...
"So, why are you holding us?"
"Why indeed?" Fury mused to himself. It would probably have been smarter to arrest them formally and taken them to a secure facility. Except the Hand was after them and he wasn't quite ready to test if Shield's facilities were up to the challenge of keeping the Hand out should they decide to try for their prize. That would cost too many lives. And he didn't technically have any evidence on which to arrest them. No. They needed to find a way to extract the information from the two juvenile delinquents before the Hand caught up with them. And right now the best way to avoid the Hand was to hide in unexpected places.
He was saved from answering when Logan stomped back into the room with the blonde. Or the former blonde, Fury corrected himself as he took in her new bald look. Logan slammed her chair down with her facing the boy this time and then moved to stand between the two but towards the end of the bed, placing the four of them in a little circle.
"We are holding you here," he growled, "because we need information from you. I highly recommend you give it to us."
...
Lapin fidgeted in his seat on the airplane to Cairo. He was a little awed that he had actually been chosen to go find Remy. He glanced at the stony faced Theoren sitting next to him. They were on their way to a tech convention in Istanbul. There they would happen to bump into a couple of computer savvy thieves from the Beijing guild and be invited to China. The route to look for Remy would be anything but direct.
...
Remy twisted to look at Wolverine, "What sort of information do you think we have?"
Logan looked at the teen trussed up on the bed. "I don't think you know squat," he stated bluntly and then pointed to Belladonna. Standing close, his hand was inches from her face. He bit back a smirk as both sets of teenaged eyes focused on where they knew his claws to exit. "Now her, on the other hand, well.. she might have something worth listening to. She might not. So far, I've heard nothing but BS. Personally, I think it would be in both your best interests to start cooperating."
"How can we cooperate if we have no idea who you are or what you want?" Remy responded.
Wolverine exchanged a glance with Fury. The boy was still trying to hedge his bets by playing dumb, but his question was clearly intended to imply that the teens were unable to cooperate, not unwilling. If they could convince the two delinquents that they wouldn't face repercussions for their crimes, they might actually get somewhere.
Maybe. Logan wasn't convinced that the two teens knew anything of real value beyond the name that they had already gleaned from eavesdropping. If the girl was a hired assassin, it was doubtful that she questioned why she was killing her target. There was a good chance this was a dead end even if the kids talked.
A name that they already had wasn't worth letting a murderer go. Then again, they didn't know how much time they had to solve this thing or what the consequences would be if they didn't. These two miscreants were the only birds they had in hand. Wolverine looked at Fury, knowing it was his decision to make.
...
Julien fought to keep his composure as he watched the old grainy video shown to him by the Hand. We watched as the man he knew to be in possession of Belle and the mutie thief cut through what appeared to be an entire army, as if they were no more than the butter to his hot knife. If this was real... if this video hadn't been doctored... what sort of animal had his sister?
"What is this footage exactly?" Julien questioned the stout woman representing the Hand.
"Security feed from the night that Weapon X broke free from his creators and escaped. I don't believe there were any survivors."
Julien forced himself to breathe normally.
...
Fury looked back at Wolverine, knowing precisely what his old friend was trying to ask him without words. It was distasteful to let these two go scot-free, but it's not like he had any real evidence with which to arrest them anyhow.
"Let me be blunt," Fury stated mildly, "yes, we are with law enforcement. You have accurately assessed that we belong to Shield. You are not under arrest because we have no evidence with which to arrest you. We are not, however, letting you go. You are suspected accomplices in an act of global terrorism, and as such can be held until we deem you are not a threat to global security."
Fury paused to assess the two teens' reactions. The girl looked openly bewildered. The boy's face was carefully blank. He had clearly heard the implicit threat behind Fury's words.
"Terrorism?" the bald girl questioned, "you think we're terrorists? Why?"
"Ichiro Sakamoto had a very important appointment set up with us, one that he failed to attend."
The girl was recovering her composure quickly, she now only looked quizzical. "Is that the man you keep accusing me of killing?"
Wolverine snorted. Fury glanced at him, wondering how long his patience with this conversation would last. His friend had little tolerance for nonsense and the Hand would be nipping at their heels soon.
"Yes, he is the man you killed," Fury answered Belle's question, despite knowing that she already knew the answer. "and his death was very inconvenient for us. We need the information he was going to bring to us."
"Surely," Remy interrupted, "you folks have other ways of collecting the information you need." Red-on-black eyes darted between Fury and Wolverine, "you're detectives aren't you?"
Fury smiled mildly and chose not to answer the question directly. "We have no evidence with which to pin murder charges on either of you," he reiterated, "however the best way to convince us that you aren't knowing and active accomplices in a terrorist plot is to cooperate with us, completely."
"And what if we really don't know anything?" Remy questioned, "it's kind of hard to prove a negative. What are you going to do with us if we can't give you what you want?"
...
"Papa do you really expect Lapin n' Theo ta find Remy?" Henri questioned once the two men were alone.
"Of course not. I just didn' want him causing anymore trouble trying ta handle dis himself. He'll be stuck on planes and boats and trains for hours, unable to get up ta anythin'. Non, I don' expect Theo to do anythin' but keep Lapin outta trouble. I've got a friend in Russia that's goin' ta look fo' Remy."
"A friend in Russia?" Henri repeated, failing to hide his dismay. He hoped this friend from Russia would prove more competent than the friend from Japan that was supposed to be watching over Remy in the first place.
"Oui," Jean Luc smirked at his oldest son, "I've not seen him for ages. It's 'bout time I paid him a visit."
Relief coursed through Henri. His father was going for Remy himself. All Henri had to do was hide that from the Assassins.
...
Belle swallowed back her unease. Ultimately, the decision about whether or not to talk was hers. Remy really didn't know anything. She wasn't even sure she knew anything of value to their captors. She had a name, Gorou Hashimoto, the man who hired her, but nothing more. She hadn't even paid any attention to what it was that she was shredding. She had just shredded everything she could get her hands on as quickly as possible. Destroying evidence of that nature wasn't a service the Assassins normally provided, but the client had paid extra. Dieu, this job had been nothing but trouble from the start.
She looked at Remy tied-up on a strange bed and fervently regretted dragging him into this. Giving these men Gorou Hashimoto's name meant violating one of her guild's oldest and most vaunted laws and breaking her oaths to the guild. What would be worse? Being thrown into some dark hole by shady government operatives without due process? Being left vulnerable to the tender mercies of the Hand? Or betraying everything she believed in, on the slim hope that at least Remy would come out of this unscathed?
Julien would look for her, she was sure of it. But he wouldn't miss her for almost a week yet. That wouldn't be soon enough to protect her from the Hand. And would he be able to find whatever dark hole the government might push her into? She bit her lip as she waited for the men to answer Remy's question. Even if Julien successfully came for her, she knew her brother, he would not lift one finger to help Remy. Would the Lebeaus? Remy loved his adopted family, but Belle had been taught since infancy to distrust them.
...
Julien left the Hand facility shaken, but on his own two feet. He hadn't even had to point blame for their dead assassin in the direction of the monstrous man that had Belle. The Hand was already blaming "Weapon X" for the death of their operative. His head spun. Was what they'd shown him real? Was that man really Weapon X? And, most importantly, what did he want with Belle?
They'd given him a location to look for Belle. Apparently, that monster had a name, a legitimate one, and property. It had been surprisingly easy to placate the Hand after they'd given him this information. It was clearly a trap. But was it for Julien, Belle, or this Weapon X?
...
"Gorou Hashimoto," Logan started slightly when Belle spoke up, seemingly unprompted.
"Gorou Hashimoto," Belle repeated a little more firmly, "he's the one that wanted Ichiro Sakamoto dead."
Logan smelled more fear coming off her at this admission than at anything that had happened prior to it. She had decided to cooperate, but she wasn't at all sure about that decision. He looked at Fury, it was a name that they already had, but it was the first real information that either of the kids had given directly to them. Fury met his eyes and understanding passed between them. If these kids knew anything of value, they would share it.