Recollections of the Past and Present
Disclaimer: See first chapter.
A/N: Hmm, I started typing some of this up during my winter break, but I just sort of gave up. Sad to say, I'm just not inspired to write this anymore, but alas, I promised I would finish it, so I will. It'll just take a while.
Sorry if anything in this chapter sounds redundant…I can't really remember what happened in some of the older chapters.
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Chapter 9: What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas Pt. 1
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Behind the looking glass, there was an intricately designed golden panel that had swirling patterns that moved inward towards the center. There, the two could see that something had been very violently ripped out. Parts of the wall lay crumbled on the floor behind the mirror. Still, there was faded writing that was scratched onto the wall behind all the gold.
"It appears the situation at hand is far graver than I initially thought."
Raimundo and Kimiko turned around and saw Master Fong standing by the entrance--equipped with Dojo, Omi, and Clay.
---
Raimundo eyed Master Fong warily as the old man walked at an agonizingly slow pace towards the shattered mirror in silence. Dojo was trailing not far behind. He noted that Omi and Clay seemed to have their feet rooted to the ground in what he presumed to be a reaction to the disturbing appearance of the altar. With a decidedly bored sigh, Raimundo gave up and flopped down onto the hard floor. A couple of more seconds passed, which was interpreted as a couple of decades in Raimundo's mind. No one seemed to be saying anything, and Kimiko's pacing didn't help either.
Aggravated, Raimundo broke the silence, "Do you intend to ever tell us what's going on here?"
Kimiko stopped pacing, but Master Fong's attention remained enthralled by the writing. Several more seconds of silence ensured before Omi cut in.
"I am confident that Master Fong will tell us what it is that is happening as soon as he thinks that we are ready to hear it. Patience is a virtue," Omi started, "though I suppose the mediocrities, such as Raimundo here…."
Omi began to gesture wildly in Raimundo's direction, while giving a rather long-winded speech.
Raimundo simply tuned out Omi's verbal diarrhea and cast his gaze upwards—green eyes glazed over as he stared at the astonishingly glittery curtains in a way very similar to how a drug addict would stare at flashing lights. His mind wandered off to its own little world, but his thoughts failed to ignore Omi's topic of discussion. Sure, Raimundo was touchy when it came to the subject of why he wasn't chosen to be a Xiaolin Apprentice, and he was obviously guilty of his actions, but there was the lingering disappointment he still felt at himself for not being good enough. When it came to learning new things, it was always easy for him to simply learn and excel—so long as he set his mind to doing it. He was disappointed and discouraged when he seemed to have constant shortcomings in comparison to Omi, Kimiko, and Clay. He was never really sure who he was trying to impress-himself, or his dead parents. It was likely the latter, which made him feel rather pathetic. It was pitiful, and it bothered him.
Raimundo snapped out of his trance when a very large and very bald head began invaded his line of vision.
"Are you even listening to me!" Omi cried out, as he enthusiastically snapped his fingers at Raimundo's face.
"Not at all." Raimundo snarled in response, replacing his blank expression with an arrogant smirk.
The shorter Xiaolin Dragon fumed as his fingers alternated between fisting and relaxing in chorus with his intake and outtake of breath.
Sensing the increasing animosity, Master Fong seized the moment to say what everyone had been waiting to hear.
"If we could all take a seat and behave in an orderly manner." Master Fong paused for effect and looked pointedly at Omi and Raimundo. The dragons in training quickly formed a neat row.
Pleased, Master Fong continued, "I am sure that you are all eager to know what that wall says—some more than others, perhaps. I am afraid I have to disappoint everyone, and say that I have no knowledge, whatsoever, on how to read the text--"
Mouths started to gape, but the elder held his hand up in protest.
"However, an old acquaintance of mine might be more familiar with this particular dialect," he paused to take another glance at the wall "I believe he may know more about—"
"Uh, Master Fong…"
"Yes, Dojo?" Master Fong inquired somewhat exasperatingly. It had been a long day, and the additional annoyances really weren't necessary.
"Well, ah…" Dojo began, "I was wondering if you were talking about the same person that I'm thinking of right now…You know, the kind of unstable guy who tried to, um, throw you into a volcano fifty years ago…?"
"Yes, it would be the same person, and before you object, Dojo, I remind you that we do not know anyone else who would be able to give us a quick enough translation." Master Fong replied before continuing, "Clay, I want you to help Kimiko and Omi remove the rest of the gold panels so that Raimundo can get a few detailed photos of the writing. Don't forget the take pictures of the statue and the rest of the altar as well, Raimundo."
With that, Master Fong dug into the left sleeve of his robe to retrieve a small digital cameral, which he promptly threw in Raimundo's direction—who reflexively caught it.
"And Dojo, I need to talk to you outside,"
Five heads nodded and proceeded to do what they were told.
---
"So old chap, care to explain to me why we need to see Igneus?" Dojo asked, while raising a quizzical eyebrow.
Receiving no word from the human, Dojo continued, "I mean, sure it might be quicker, but he's a very dangerous guy! From what I've been hearing he's become a sort of a criminal!"
Dojo waited for a reply, and again, receiving none, began to rant, "Not to mention how hard it is to find any of his kind….What makes you think it'll even be worth our time?"
"Because," Master Fong started, "I know that Igneus has been living in Las Vegas for the past four years or so and as dangerous as he may be, he may be able to provide some evidence for your theory. The real challenge may not be finding, but rather, persuading him to aide us."
Contented with this answer, the dragon merely nodded and cast attentive eyes at the old man.
"Fly back to the temple, and get about a few days' worth of clothing for Kimiko, Clay, Omi, and…On second thought, I'll come with you. There are some details of this operation that I should go over."
Dojo nodded obediently at took off with Master Fong on his back. For some odd reason unbeknownst to him, Dojo felt like there was something very important he needed to ask Mast Fong about. He struggled to remember what he couldn't recollect, but gave up after deciding that it must not have been so important if he couldn't remember. Still, Dojo couldn't shake the odd feeling that plagued the dark corners of his mind.
---
After finishing their "expedition" the group was slightly surprised to find that their belongings have been packed into small travel-sized bags that were latched onto Dojo's forty feet back.
"In case you haven't already noticed, Dojo here is going to take you all the Las Vegas. He will also explain why you are going, as well as what you will need to do once you get there." Master Wong stated, glad that his pupils had accepted his ambiguous explanation.
With the Xiaolin Dragons securely settled on his back, Dojo immediately took flight right as the sun was about to dawn. There was no time to waste.
---
The trip was quiet, and after experiencing so many trips around the world, watching the sky change from night to day and night again had lost its allure. They arrived at Las Vegas relatively quickly, and it wasn't long until they could see the bright lights of The Strip. Master Fong had made arrangements for them to stay at the Bellagio Hotel.
The windows to one of the rooms that Master Fong had to "coax" his friends in higher places to allow the foursome to stay in were opened to avoid the suspicion that would come with entering through the front doors. Through careful maneuvering, everyone got inside in a matter of minutes.
"So, ah, care to tell us folks what we're doin' here, partner?" Clay questioned.
"Well," Dojo started, but paused to wait for everyone to grab a seat. Kimiko sat on the couch, Omi settled for sitting dead center on the bed, while Clay chose to stand. Raimundo looked as if he were going to sit on the coach as well, but changed his mind and sat backwards on a chair instead.
Dojo rubbed his reptilian palms together and began to explain to them what Master Fong had drilled into his brain. Three of the four were change into formal attire, grab their fake IDs, and head down towards Le Cirque, a fancy dining restaurant. There, they were arranged to be seated across the room from several "associates" of the man the group needed to find. As eavesdropping would prove to be difficult, the last member of their party would be disguised as a new waiter in order to implement a mini transmitter, which will transfer audio back to miniature headset one of the three will be wearing. The "waiter" will also be given a small tracking device to somehow attach to one of the associates.
"You're still a little vague on the details, Dojo." Raimundo commented after a slight pause.
Dojo huffed and crossed his arms across his chest before going of onto a tangent that sounded suspiciously like,"Well, sorry I'm not as good as Master Fong is. Damned ungrateful youth… "
"Actually, Raimundo's got a point, you've told us the jist of things, but that don't help us any if we don't know what we're getting' ourselves into." Clay commented cutting Dojo's little rant short.
Feeling a bit bad at the expression on the dragon's face, he added, "How 'bout we ask you questions as we go along? That way we all know what we need to know, and we won't feel unprepared."
The dragon pursed his lips together before giving the cowboy a curt nod.
Omi, ever the leader, chose this opening to take charge. "Well, the, let us start with the most important question at the moment. Which one of us is going to be subjected to two hours of servitude as a 'waiter'?"
Immediately, fingers were pointed in various directions.
"Ahem," Omi coughed, "I personally think that I, as the most experienced warrior, should be given the sole duty of assigning these roles. I say we shall—"
"Naw! Hold it there, partner. We ain't gonna let you call all the shots here." Clay interrupted. "I think we should do this according to good ol' logic and common sense."
Kimiko and Raimundo nodded in agreement.
"Clay has a point, Omi." Kimiko said, attempting to console a disheartened Omi; the small monk continued to sulk.
"So logically," Raimundo began, ignoring Omi's behavior, "Clay wouldn't make the best waiter, since he isn't the most, uh, graceful guy out there. No offense, Clay"
"None taken. I know where my limits are." Clay said, nodding in Raimundo's direction.
"Right," Raimundo started again, "So that leaves, me, Kimiko, and Omi."
He shifted his gaze between Omi and Kimiko.
"Any suggestions?"
"Well, I don't want to ruin your fun," Dojo said, stopping further discussion, "But we're a bit short on time here. Le Cirque closes at ten o'clock pm, and it's almost eight. Since the new waiter is supposed to be male, that rules out Kimiko. We've all agreed that Clay might have some trouble with moving around, which leaves us Omi and Raimundo. Between Omi and Raimundo, Raimundo is the one that can speak French, making him the most logical choice for the new 'waiter' at Le Cirque."
Dojo grinned, satisfied with his quick thinking. See, I'm just as clever as Master Fong is. He just hoped that the four could pull this stunt off without attracting any unwanted attention. The wiring at Le Cirque was only the tip of the iceberg. The dragon could feel his heart thumping faster thinking about what they were all getting themselves into. There was something happening out there, and Dojo wasn't sure if any of them wanted to know what this "something" really is.
Dojo instructed Kimiko, Omi and Clay to go and change into their evening wear. Omi and Clay would arrive first, and Kimiko would follow about fifteen minutes later and dine separately.
Things were about to be set into motion
---
Kimiko admired her surroundings while waiting for the arrival of the targets. Le Cirque certainly lived up to its hype as one of Las Vegas's most charismatic cuisines. The place was every bit extravagant from its wooden, star-studded entry to the swooping silk-tented ceiling. The paintings of whimsical French acrobats adorned the dark red walls, whispered tales from another time in Kimiko's ear. Reaching into her purse, Kimiko pulled out the black Samsung SGH-T809 Dojo had given her. The cell phone had been rewired to include a few new interesting new features that would allow her communicate with Raimundo. Dojo figured it would be a slight bit suspicious if she was talking on a cell phone if she had Omi and Clay's company, so it was decided that she would sit at a separate table. Though, honestly, sitting alone just made her feel like an old hag—dateless and alone.
'At least you don't look like an old hag.' Kimiko's mind assured her.
Indeed, Kimiko had to admit that Master Fong knew how to shop. She donned a simple black shift that went up to just above her knees. Her outfit had included a sparkling "diamond" necklace and a shawl, and her hair was set in an elegant plait. To put simply, she looked very Audrey Hepburn-ish. The look was a bit uninspired, but it fit the overall "classic and elegant" energy the restaurant exerted. She frowned and looked back down at her menu. She still wasn't sure what she wanted, and was yet to receive a waiter. Granted, she'd only been there for about three minutes, but she was expecting stellar service. Her eyes immediately left her menu when her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of four figures being seated at the table two tables away from her own by the maitre-d'.
There were two males and two females. Both men were wearing a sleazy lounge-lizard like button up and black slacks and brunets, though the shorter man opted for a buzz cut as opposed to the taller man who wore his hair slicked back. Her eyes shifted towards the women in the group. Kimiko noted that if she were to ever describe anyone as a "skank", it would be the peroxide blonde. Kimiko could not comprehend how the woman could possibly think of wearing an unnaturally short turquoise number that barely covered her nether regions. The plunging neckline wasn't what Kimiko could call attractive either. The other woman was more conservative, opting for a smart pant-suit instead of a dress. The quartet sat down and began reading the menu the maitre-d' handed to them
She took that as her cue to call Raimundo.
---
Raimundo self-consciously tugged at his waiter outfit while waiting for further instruction from the manager. He couldn't help feeling a little bit nervous. He wasn't exactly sure how to operate his ridiculously complex ear and mouth piece. It was a standard headset given to waiters, but Dojo had added a few embellishments to ensure that he could listen in on the bugged table in addition to any orders he may receive from Kimiko, who would be keeping watch of their targets. To guarantee that Kimiko wouldn't interrupt a message for Raimundo the waiter, she was given an earpiece that would pick up everything Raimundo's would.
Raimundo sighed and glanced at his watch. He wasn't given any instruction from any of the chefs just yet, and was starting to get antsy. Le Cirque was completely packed tonight, and sooner or later, they're going to need another waiter out there. He just hoped he would get the right table. Actually, he wasn't sure what Dojo had in mind to make certain that he would be their targets' waiter or the night. Raimundo began to pick at his shirt sleeves again. He was relieved that the sleeves were long. His arms haven't completely healed, and he forgot to wrap it in gauze back in Rio. The last thing he needed was for someone to notice and ask him questions. His thought process was cut short by a sudden transmission from Kimiko.
"Rai?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Good. Targets have arrived and are sitting at table to the right of mine. Two females and two males."
Kimiko's transmission ended, and now he had to think quickly. What the hell was he supposed to do? Walk up to the manager and demand that he pick his own customers? Fortunately, Lady Luck was one his side. The manager was gesturing at him to go over to where he was.
"Vasquez, I need you to go over to table twenty-seven and take their order. Then I want you to go over to table twenty-five and do the same, comprenez?" the manager started before adding, "Make sure these people are happy—in other words, don't fuck up their orders."
---
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I will be your waiter tonight. Are you ready to make your order?" Raimundo asked while taking out a small notepad from his back pocket.
Four pairs of eyes darted over to him.
"Yes," the woman with a short bob replied, "We would like the Carpaccio de Saumon Fumé Maison et sa Petite Huile EpicéePlateau de Fruits de Mer de Saison, Salade de Homard "Le Cirque" Vinaigrette aux Truffes and Risotto du Marchéfor."
Raimundo nodded and scribbled this down onto his pad. "And for the main course?"
The same woman opened her mouth the reply again, but was cut off by the man in the bright blue satin dress shirt. The man's hair was slicked back in a way that reminded Raimundo of Antonio, forcing him to suppress an involuntary shudder.
"You know, Charlotte, we're perfectly capable of ordering ourselves."
Charlotte only snorted in response.
"Anyways," Antonio's look-a-like started, "I think I'll have the, ah, Jared de Argenoo…"
"You mean the Jarret d'Agneau Braisé?" Raimundo interrupted.
"Yeah that!" grinned the man. "Oh, and do you have any snails on this menu?"
The blonde giggled and Charlotte just buried her face in her hands while muttering something along the lines of, "Butch, you idiot…"
Raimundo inwardly sighed; this was going to be a long night. Thankfully, after Butch's second attempt at ordering something, Charlotte took over and made his life a lot easier.
---
Kimiko was bored. Again. She didn't have anyone to talk to, though she figured that she should be grateful that she didn't have to put up with any of Omi's strange questions today. Omi and Clay were at the opposite end of the room and were barely visible to her. They were probably waiting for their transmission to open. Looking back down at her menu for the forth time, Kimiko tried to find something to order, but was utterly helpless. That is, until she heard a familiar voice addressing her.
Raimundo was standing right in front of her. In a waiter's uniform. Holding a note-pad. And did she mention in a waiter's uniform? She wished she had her camera with her. This was definitely a Kodak moment.
"Are you dining alone, Miss?" Raimundo inquired with an amused smirk.
Kimiko rolled her eyes and responded somewhat indignantly, "As a matter of fact, I am."
"Well then, have you decided what you want to order?"
Kimiko just smiled sweetly (in a very fake and forced manner) and said, "Actually, I have no idea what to order. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Well," Raimundo began, "For an appetizer, I would suggest our Escargots au Beurre d'Ail, Petit Raviolis aux Fromages de Chèvre, Pastis et Jambon de Parme, which is Burgundy snails, goat cheese ravioli with garlic, herbs, pastis and Parma prosciutto."
Kimiko wasn't as shocked by his suggestion that she should eat snails as she was by his surprisingly fluent French.
Amused by Kimiko's facial expression, Raimundo continued, "For a main course, I suggest our ''Blanquette'' de Lapin au Riesling et Spaëtzles Croquants."
"Care to translate that for me?"
"It's braised rabbit in Riesling with Spaetzle."
"Oh. I'll have that then."
"And would you like anything to drink?" Raimundo asked, "We have a great selection of fine wines—"
"You're not here to get me drunk, Rai."
The only response she received was a mock wink and a smirk as he took off to some other table. She felt her face redden and suppressed the urge to throttle him.
---
Raimundo scowled while being chastised by the manager for taking as long as he did. Honestly, it wasn't his entire fault. People these days were impossible. Of course, it probably didn't help that he was trying to amuse himself by playing "that annoying waiter" with Kimiko.
Raimundo furrowed his brow in annoyance when he found out he had to deliver half a dozen of other meals before the others would be ready. After about ten minutes of running back and forth, he finally got the chance to deliver the wine to table twenty-seven. Walking over there, he figured that now was as good of a time to bug the table.
However, Raimundo grew a little nervous as he approached the table. While setting the wine glasses on the table, he couldn't help but notice Charlotte and the other man's watchful eyes—daring him to do anything suspicious. Lady Luck really must've really been on his side tonight because the blonde accidentally knocked over one of the wine glasses, sending it over the table. Through quick and careful timing, Raimundo managed to angle his hand so that it slipped underneath the table when catching the falling glass. The glass softly hit the bottom of the table with a dull thud when Raimundo "caught" it. His intentionally clumsy catch allowed him to successfully stick the miniscule bug underneath the table. Phase one was complete.
---
A few tables away, Kimiko watched as Raimundo finished pouring the other table's drinks. It's now or never, Rai. She was antsy with anticipation. Her prayers were answered when her cell phone rang. Picking it up, she could here the conversation at the other table. She grinned. The first phase was complete. Now all they had to do was wait and listen for anything important.
---
Across the room, Omi and Clay were having a grand old time—really. Well, Omi was at least. Clay for one was not used to eating meals that were the size of his fist. He frowned at his appetizer. Did they honestly expect him to eat snails? Omi insisted on ordering random things on the menu, which was probably more than Omi would end up eating and more than Clay was willing to stomach. The fancy food in front of him was food for pansies, and Clay was most certainly not a pansy. He wished they would've gone to the Prime Steakhouse they saw earlier. It was times like these that Clay wished he was back in Texas where they had real food.
"Clay?" Omi asked for the nine millionth time.
Clay just sighed. "What is it., Omi?"
"Why is it that we are eating snails?"
"Omi, there are other things on this table. You don't have to eat the snails."
Clay sat there, wishing that Raimundo would hurry on up and open the transmission. His wish was answered when four different voices began to flood into his earpiece. Omi must've heard the same thing because the monk got considerably quieter, focusing more on what he was hearing rather than talking.
It was all a waiting game now.
---
Greg liked to think of him as a sophisticated man and a man that would like to be viewed as a respectable human being in public places. This image was definitely not enforced when he was with Butch. The man was the epitome of idiocy. Greg really did not know what was wrong with Butch, but the man acted like he was dropped on the head at least ten times as a child. It didn't help that Sarah always dressed like she was a Vegas call-girl. At least Charlotte was bearable despite her slight bossiness—okay, so maybe "slight" was a bit of an understatement. Greg watched as Charlotte snatched the wine bottle out of Butch's hands before he drank from the bottle.
"In case you three have forgotten," Charlotte began, "We're not here to behave like imbeciles."
"Awww, Char, we're only having fun." Sarah whined in her sickeningly fake sugar-coated voice.
Greg let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Sarah, we're really not. Unless we actually plan this out, this heist isn't going to run very smoothly—in fact, we'd probably get caught"
"Thank you, Greg," Charlotte said with a slight smile, "Our orders were to break into The Bellagio Gallery of Fine Arts. We were ordered to take as many Ansel Adams photographs as we can, but specifically the photograph of the Tetons and the Snake River. Remember, we have to do this without anyone noticing."
"Without anyone noticing? Charlotte, this is Vegas. No one sleeps here." Butch snapped.
"Which is exactly why we need to be worrying about how to go about doing this!"
Greg winced in his chair. Charlotte was pissed off again. Not that that was anything new or surprising. Butch had that effect on people. The only people who could stand Butch were either really drunk or really stupid. Even drunks would slap Butch on occasion.
"—be in at one o'clock am and out by two o'clock a.m." Charlotte finished.
Crap Greg mentally swore at himself. He hadn't been listening. Charlotte was going to skin him alive.
"Greg, are you listening to me? I would expect you of all people to pay attention."
"Yes, of course I am. What about the guards?" Greg asked, hoping that it was something that Charlotte hadn't brought up yet.
Charlotte frowned. "I thought I already went over that." She paused to think. "Maybe I wasn't being very clear."
Greg let out a mental sigh of relief.
"I managed to swipe the schedule--don't ask how--from one of nighttime patrols. The guards alternate at 1 A.M, leaving us a five minute time gap for us to get in and thirty minutes to get out. There's a vent that runs above the gallery. We're using that to get inside. I assume you were listening when I went over how we'll deal with the security cameras and alarms?" Charlotte said, finishing her explanation.
Greg could only cast an apologetic look. Charlotte sighed and got ready to repeat herself, but stopped when their waiter arrived with their main course. She eyed him suspiciously. There was something off about their waiter—something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He was charming, she'd give him that, but he didn't look old enough to even be working at Le Cirque. All the other waiters were in their mid thirties, if not older, and this waiter looked no older than nineteen. It might have been the natural paranoia she developed from working for various organized crime leaders, jumping from one to another as organizations fell apart, but that same paranoia had saved her ass on more than one occasion. Her head felt full from all the stress her occupation usually included. The meticulous dissection every move their waiter made only made her head ache a little more. Reaching up to massage her temple, Charlotte decided to ignore the uncomfortable twang in the back of her head and hoped that their waiter really was a waiter.
---
It was 10:00 p.m. and the restaurant was now devoid of all occupants with the exception of its employees, well, most of them at least. The manager could not, for the life of him, figure out where Erik Vasquez went. Unknown to most, the real Erik Vasquez was heavily sedated in his own hotel room, completely unaware that he had missed his first day of work. Dojo wasn't too worried about the man. The empty and open bottles of vodka rolling around the floor would explain volumes to the real Mr. Vasquez.
---
Raimundo stuffed his waiter's uniform into the trash bin in the hotel room's bathroom, happy to be rid of the restrictive monstrosity. Staring at his reflection in the mirror made him grimace at the state of his body. His erratic eating habits were catching up to him and the scabs on his arms were starting to get itchy. Choosing to actually listen to the grumbling noises his stomach was making, Raimundo pulled on his navy blue shirt and reached for the bathroom's door handle, only to stop when he heard sound coming from his headset. That's odd. We deactivated the one underneath the table, and the GPS shouldn't be transmitting sound. Curious, Raimundo picked up the headset he tossed in the hamper and held it up to his ears.
"…don't know why we're continuing this discussion." The voice sounded like it belonged to Kimiko.
There was the sound of a door opening and slamming followed by some awkward rustling. They must've forgotten to turn off the transmitter in Kimiko's cell phone. He knew he should probably do the honest thing and cut the connection, but he sort of wanted to know what they were talking about. He looked at the earpiece in his hand, debating whether or not to actually listen to eavesdrop when he hear someone say something that vaguely resembled his name. Screw it, I'm listening in.
"…--ink he should go on this stakeout." This voice sounded like it belonged to Omi.
"Dojo, Omi's got a point, yah know? Who're we to say that he won't pull some stunt and go all dark-side on us again? It's not that I don't want to learn to trust the guy again; I just know that this is something that'll take us some time. " Clay's voice, though hushed, now filled the receiver.
Someone let out a sigh of exasperation. Raimundo wasn't sure who it belonged to.
Omi's voice flitted through once more. "Dojo, I honestly think we should reconsider letting Raimundo come with us on such an important mission. Clay and I do not feel particularly safe around him yet, and I don't think Kimiko does either. Dojo, you have to understand that there are many temptations out there, particularly in the area we are about to delve into. Organized crime is an easy way to find fortune, and I do not trust Raimundo to be able to restrain his inherently greedy and selfish tendencies. Dojo, I truly believe that by not letting him go with us for this mission is for his own good."
"Well—"
Is this what Kimiko meant when she said she didn't want to continue "this discussion"? Raimundo frowned, waiting for another voice to fill the headphone. He had pushed the conversation he heard a few days ago to the back of his mind because there were only so many things he wanted to deal with. Of course it hurt that his only friends (or should he be referring to them as his former friends now?) couldn't find it in their hearts to actually learn to trust him again, but it bothered him that they chose to talk about him behind his back. Frankly, he never expected them to fully accept him as part of their team right away, let alone a close friend. Raimundo knew his actions were immature, rash and downright stupid, but he knew he made a mistake, he owned up to it, and now, he was trying to make things up. He didn't complain when Omi made sly remarks, and he didn't comment when he saw how they weren't as close to him as they were to each other. Throwing down the receiver, he reached for the door knob once again, but this time, he actually chose to open it.
Immediately, all conversation on the other side of the door came to a screeching halt. Three heads turned in his direction, and a thick silenced permeated the air. Go on, say something to them.
"Where did Kimiko go?" Raimundo inwardly cringed. That wasn't what he intended to say—then again wanting to say something and being able to actually do so were two entirely different things.
Dojo cleared his throat. "Ah, I think she went outside, ah, the balcony I mean."
'So it wasn't the door that slammed, it was the window.' Raimundo thought as he walked towards the large glass window.
Sliding the large glass window open, he spotted Kimiko sitting on the railing. She donned a dark grey sweater and olive green shorts. Raimundo found the sweater an odd choice for Vegas weather, but concluded that it was still a bit unusually chilly outside. He slid the window shut and walked over to the railing, resting his arms on it. They stayed there in a comfortable silence for a while before Rai decided to break it.
"I lied."
Kimiko raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Letting out a sigh, he continued, "About not overhearing Clay and Omi talking back at the Ming Xu temple."
Kimiko immediately felt her face redden from irritation and turned to face Raimundo, who was still looking directly ahead. "Why would you lie about something like that? Do you have any idea how guilty I felt? I still feel guilty about it…"
Apologetic green eyes pierced blue ones. "I'm sorry."
Kimiko's eyes immediately softened, her irritation slowly ebbing away. She just did not like being lied to. "No, actually I think I, actually Clay, Omi and I, owe you an apology. It was rude of us to talk about you behind your back. If I had a question, I should've asked you, not Clay or Omi."
"Apology accepted," Raimundo replied. "But, answer me honestly, Kimiko, do you agree with what they said?"
Kimiko hesitated to answer, and then struggled to find a suitable one.
"Would it help if I rephrased my question?"
She nodded.
Standing up straight again, Rai turned his head so that he was no longer looking at Kimiko. "Do you still trust me?"
He closed his eyes and waited for the answer. A large part of him was begging her to say "yes" because he needed her to say that she still trusted him—that he was her friend and she trusted him in spite of everything that has transpired. His heart, his soul and his mind needed that reassurance, and right now, Kimiko was the only one that could give it to him. So he stood there as agonizing seconds passed by, waiting, praying and above all, hoping that she could give him that reassurance. He almost choked on the air he was inhaling when the response finally came.
"No." It was simple, but the point was there. There was no hint of an apology or even sympathy—just a straight forward and above all honest answer.
It still felt like someone had stabbed him in the stomach, but he understood. He knew he shouldn't of had expected anything less from her. Kimiko was courteous enough to treat him like, at least in some sense, a human being. I deserve far less. There it was again. His insecurities were starting to bubble and froth inside of him for the millionth time, but he pushed it down and reacted with the only thing he had left—his dignity.
"Okay." Rai's voice was steady, and he was grateful that it was.
She nodded and got off the rail. "We should go back inside now. I'm sure they're waiting for us."
He nodded and followed her back inside.
---
Dojo was not happy with their final decision, but majority ruled, and he couldn't come up with a better argument. Picking up the sound of the window sliding open and two sets of footsteps entering the hotel room, Dojo shifted his slightly morose gaze towards the Dragon of Fire and the Dragon of Wind. At least he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. Then again, it really is only bad news for Raimundo.
"It is wonderful of you two to finally join us. Clay, Dojo and I have been waiting for quite some time. Since it is almost a quarter until one, now is the time to discuss our plan of action. I have a great deal to discuss as we are about to dive into a very—"
"Cut the crap, Omi."
Four startled faces turned towards Raimundo who sighed and continued, "You guys agreed to not let me come along, and even though I'm just as capable of handling a few goons as any of you are, I'm not going to bother arguing. None of you trust me—fine. I can live with that. Since I don't need to actually be there I don't think I need to listen to Omi talk."
The bitterness was creeping back into his voice, so he pushed it aside. "Besides, I should considering myself lucky to not have to listen to Bald Almighty bark out demands."
Omi was fuming at this point. "How dare you talk to me in such a manner? You are a non-Apprentice. Clearly that shows that you are not ready and not worthy of—Raimundo, come back here!"
"Later." That was all Rai said as he opened to door to the adjoined bedroom and slammed it shut.
"Well," Clay began, breaking the awkward silence, "I'd say that that didn't go too well. Er, how 'bout you tell us about that plan now, Omi."
"Ah yes! It is an ingenious plan that only someone of my tremendous caliber…"
---
For the past hour or so, Rai had been trying to get that obnoxious voice in his head to go away before it pushed him over to edge. I am not schizophrenic. I am not schizophrenic. I am not schizophrenic. He sighed, ramming his head into a pillow in an attempt to stop the pounding that usually came with the voice.
Awww, is little Rai going to start crying like a baby again? Weren't you a foolish sap to think they'd still trust you after that stunt you pulled? You really are worthless. Even Clay didn't defend you. That huge mass defends everyone.
"Shut up. Go away." Rai said aloud through gritted teeth.
But Raimundo! I'm the only friend you have. Surely you're not going to push me away too? That'd be awfully silly of you.
He let out another aggravated groan. "Go away!"
Am I hurting your feelings?
A loud cackle reverberated through his skull.
I'm terribly sorry, but your "friends" really do have a point. You aren't reliable. Nope, not at all. You're actually a bit of a backstabber.
"I said SHUT UP!" Frustrated, Raimundo threw the first thing he could grab at the wall. A loud crash resounded off the walls and into the empty hotel room.
Looking back over at the wall, Raimundo could make out bits of what used to be the room's alarm clock. Angry and unhappy, he sort of wished he threw something that would've broken off into sharper pieces. It was tempting because splitting himself open was something that made him momentarily forget how unhappy he was. It might even make this stupid voice go way. He'd left his razor back at the Xiaolin temple, so there wasn't anything he had on him that would be sharp enough. He could always break something else, but he didn't want to leave Master Fong with any damage fines. Letting out a resigned sigh, Rai settled for leaning his head against the wall, shutting his eyes and simply breathing. However, he was pulled out of his trance when he heard a frantic pounding on the adjoining door.
"Raimundo? Let me in!"
It was Dojo. Getting up off the floor, Raimundo tried to steady himself in light of his pounding headache and opened the door. Immediately, the small dragon jumped up and grabbed Rai's shirt collar. Large desperate eye looked into his slightly clouded ones. The headache was subsiding and the voice was gone, for now at least.
"Something went wrong, and I don't know what to do. I'm freaking out here because Master Fong is going to kill me…and…I'm scared."
Raimundo gently pulled Dojo off him and set the dragon on the carpet. "Dojo, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened."
Dojo took a deep breath and began to recount the tale.
---
A/N: Wow that was long. Well, review and tell me what you think. )
And in case anyone was wondering:
Butch: 21
Sarah: 23
Charlotte: 19
Greg: 24
One or two of these characters will likely end up playing a significant role in this story. I'll give a virtual cookie to whoever can guess which one(s) it will be.