Disclaimer: Nobody ever learns around here, huh? ;-) Unfortunately, we still don't own the X-Men, and don't have the means to hold Stan Lee for ransom! If we did, then ish would have Lapin, Etienne would belong to melancholic, Remy wouldn't be blind in the comics, and there wouldn't be this craziness of separating Rogue and Remy (oh, the inhumanity!)! Bwa ha ha, don't worry – we'll keep you updated regarding our plans. :)
A/N: melancholic: I don't know if you remember the idea of this collaboration, but ish graciously plugged it in the first chapter of her fic, Loved and Lost, or Never at All?, which is one of the best stories out there! Anyhow, I know it took a while, and I was partly to blame for that -cringes- but it's here, it's great, and it'll be really, really fun! I had one of the best experiences writing this with ish, and I can't help but say that this is obviously just the beginning! -tries to contain her sinister smile- Have fun, all right? ;-)
ishandahalf: Aww, such flattery from my comrade! I'll return the favour and hype some of her stuff too – Limelight is a particular favourite of mine, and I'm always waiting for updates... Hint, hint! ;-) This sure took a while, probably cause we're so anal about every little detail, but here it is - a collaboration between the two of us, so you know it's gotta be good! It'll be one hell of a fun ride, so sit back and enjoy!
We'd just like to point out that this isn't exactly an AU, it's more like a prequel to the existing Evo universe (which of course, will be mangled accordingly by us! ;-)). Things will hopefully lead to a clearer understanding later on in the fic – if we reveal too much, the muses will come and take us hostage, and we won't be able to write for you guys anymore! You all wouldn't want that now, right? P
Anyhow, we're open to answering select questions that might come out – it'd be better if you just hung on for the ride! Okay, without further ado (gotta love clichés! ;-)), here's the first chapter, and remember to be generous with the reviews, and we'll be giving with the Romy goodness! - However, do try to keep the rakes and hoses away from ish and melancholic, respectively – those are some of our phobias. Oh great, we just gave out a weakness! Ah well, gotta find a hiding place now... ;-)
Legend: unaccented thoughts or foreign words, (translations/author notes), /written words/, words spoken in another language that we probably can't put here (think Mandarin or Greek, ::telepathy::
Chase
Chapter 1 – Of Precious Jewels
The office of Marius Boudreaux exuded power. It emanated authority, making one wonder what kind of man could command such instantaneous fear and reverence without even having to be present in the room.
Solid oak furniture loomed tall, as if a forest of carved and glossed trees were sprouting out from the floor. Each piece spoke of wealth, as did the intricately woven carpet and rows upon rows of books, stacked in bookshelves that appeared to hold all the knowledge in the world. Instead of feeling warm and inviting, however, it was decidedly gloomy – the few rays of sunlight that permeated the curtained windows seemed as if they were out of place. It was a dim, menacing room; a room where the assassinations of hundreds of people had been ordered - sunlight didn't belong there.
Shadows were draped all over the floor, the bookshelves, and the desk. Said entities were the friends of assassins, and so the patriarch of the Assassins' Guild embraced them, sitting in his chair while leisurely swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.
His actions halted when he suddenly noticed the darkness in one corner take shape, melt away, and move furtively towards him. Setting the glass down, Marius, overcome with foreboding feelings, stood up in an obligatory show of respect for his unexpected guest.
"Bonjour, Benefactress," he greeted Candra, an insincere smile quickly slipping onto his face, which dropped when he bowed. "To what do I owe de honour o' yo' presence?"
"I have a job for you, Marius," the External informed him brusquely, in her usual haughty fashion, not wasting time on pleasantries.
"O' course. De Guild is at yo' service, ya needen't even ask," he offered swiftly, thankful that she was not a telepath and was unable to pick up the annoyance he felt at being forced to acquiesce to her every whim.
"I need something stolen," Candra replied, the force to her words applied so simply, yet the message vague to his understanding.
The Assassin leader raised an eyebrow at this, but refrained from commenting. Not that he would ever allow himself to acknowledge it, both for the sake of his pride and not wishing to question the External's judgment, but surely a Thief would be more suited for such a task?
"I desire the Momentary Princess," Candra continued, a typical, sinister expression spreading across her smooth features, her eyes contorting with the fury of her wish.
At her revelation, Boudreaux started. Every member of both Guilds knew the story of the legendary gemstone – the tales held that it possessed the power to see into the future, and even travel through time. Everybody was also aware of how desperately the Benefactress yearned to acquire said gem. Marius smiled greedily at the thought of how the one who delivered it to her would be favoured...
"If ya desire it, den y'll have it," he pledged, every fibre of his being agreeing with his declaration.
"Good," she stated, looking immensely pleased. "But there is more; I approached the Thieves' Guild to steal the Princess for me—"
"Quoi (What)?!?!" bellowed the Assassin, blatantly furious over such an opportunity being offered to his most hated rivals.
"Do you dare question me?" Candra thundered, her telekinetic abilities rattling the room around them, as if an earthquake were shaking the foundation. "May I remind you that I created both of your Guilds, and I may do with them as I wish!"
"Je suis desolé (I'm sorry)," came the simpering apology. "It was wrong o' me t' question ya; it won' happen again."
She raised a scornful eyebrow in Boudreaux's direction, speculating as to why she was so forgiving with allowing the fool more chances with her plans. "If you had not been so quick to interrupt, you would have heard the rest! As I was saying, I convened with the Thieves' Guild – however, as I am sure you would be glad to hear, they failed in their task. They have lost their opportunity to impress me, but you now have the possibility to succeed where they did not."
"What can m' Guild do f'r ya, Benefactress?" Marius interjected, his interest piquing considerably at the mention of the disappointment his adversaries caused.
"The Thieves contracted the efforts of a mercenary named Mystique. She is a mutant, a shape shifter, at that. They used her powers and relationship with a prophetic mutant to their advantage," she explained, praying that the Assassin could process the information in his often-thick skull. "Foolishly, they did not anticipate her deceiving them, and taking the gem for herself."
"An' ya want us t' find Mystique an' take back de gem?" Marius concluded, trying to ignore the feeling of apprehension slowly creeping up his spine – he had no reason to be frightened, for it was obvious that, with all of the skills and cunning his Assassins possessed as an edge over the Thieves, they would emerge victorious.
"I wish for you to do more than just that," the External grinned, her eyes blazing with a predatory gleam that illuminated her entire face, one that could put even the most ferocious animal to shame. "I want revenge on Mystique, for being arrogant enough to think she could trick me and my Guilds. I want her dead! Can you do that?" she demanded, certain that Boudreaux would waste no time and energy in fulfilling her command.
"I'll put m' best Assassin on de job right away, Benefactress," Marius declared, already plotting the moves he wanted mentally, pride and a lust for triumph ringing in his mind.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," she said coolly, beginning to be relatively impressed with the show of stark determination. "The rewards will be great – more riches and power; even the Elixir of Longevity will be offered to you if you accomplish this! See that it is done at once, and that the results will be in our favour."
The man's eyes widened significantly at the mention of such payments – he would finally receive a taste of the Elixir, the very same that granted his thieving rivals youthful appearances and extended life spans, plus astounding amounts of wealth that he could surely use? Smiling avariciously, he vowed, "It will be done."
Candra nodded condescendingly at him, content to leave the Guild Patriarch to his own devices as long as she would, as always, receive the most gain at the end. Turning, she moved back towards the shadows as she came, and disappeared into the darkness without a trace.
Grabbing his goblet once more, Marius downed the remainder of his wine, now caring little for its taste – soon it would be the Elixir that coursed over his lips, and nothing else in the world would be able to compare with the intoxication it would bring him. Picking up his telephone, he quickly dialed a number and waited for the receiving end to pick up.
"Oui (Yes)?" came the snappy response from the headset.
"Julien, c'est moi (it's me)," his father firmly spoke. "Come t' m' office, maintenant (now)."
Leaving no room for debate, he hung up the phone and sat anxiously in his chair. While waiting for his son, the patriarch's thoughts were focused on only one subject, and could not be swayed by any other outside matter. He was consumed with an insatiable lust for the Elixir, for it was the very thing he had been craving for years. He was totally confident about what it would bring to him: more power, and not just over his own Guild, but LeBeau's as well...
When Julien Boudreaux finally opened the door and entered the room, making his needed presence known, he found his father leaning back in his chair – there was a content grin spread across his face that seemed an ill fit, like the older man was not used to showing that particular emotion.
"Père (Father)?" he spoke up curiously, still unsure of the situation while moving in front of the table.
"I have a mission f'r ya," Marius announced, as he sat up straighter and clasped his hands together. As he quickly explained what it entailed, Julien grew more and more intrigued, the fascination, resolve, and want for the rewards that his father conveyed transferring into him.
"I'll do it," he accepted abruptly with a smirk, his competitive and devious nature shining through his words. "Ya know I never turn down de chance t' show dose damn T'ieves who de better Guild is."
"Bon (good). Get in touch wit' our contacts, an' discover where dis Mystique is at. Den find her, do away wit' her, an' steal back de Princesse."
"Uh... As much as I hate t' say it, 'm not a t'ief," Julien scowled harshly, hating having to admit a weakness. "Dis femme (woman) ain't stupide (stupid); she'll have hidden de gem, an' 'm sure not askin' one o' de T'ieves f'r help."
"Merde (shit)!" cursed the leader, a now grim expression settling on his face. Eradicating the mercenary would pose no problem, but retrieving the jewel would require more finesse and shrewdness than Julien possessed... As loath as he was to admit it, a Thief was needed. And with that thought, an idea was born instantaneously in his mind, as if the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle had miraculously fallen into place.
He looked at his son and beamed, the old, cocky air residing around him. "Julien, I've got a better idea," Marius snapped his fingers, waving his hands dismissively afterwards. "Y're off de job."
"Quoi?!?!" Julien started, a newfound incredulity present in his tone. "Den who's goin' t' do it?"
"Belle," he answered, the cogs in his head rapidly turning, churning out an idea that seemed so faultless, so vast in its prospects.
"Belle?" Julien managed to squeeze out, acting as if he never heard mention of the person before.
"Oui, Belle," he repeated clearly, thinking of his daughter. Or, more specifically, thinking of his daughter's fiancé... Marius chuckled to himself, utterly delighted with his plan – he would use the Thief against his own Guild. The irony in this was priceless! "She'll pro'ly ask Remy t' go wit' her, which'll be extra insurance f'r us – not only will dey get closer, but if she can't complete de mission, den Remy can help her steal de gem."
"Non, ya can't be serious!" gaped Julien, the former signs of disbelief now mixed with a burgeoning fury.
"'M always serious, mon fils (my son), 'specially if it's dese t'ings we're talkin' 'bout," Marius reassured him, the crazed leer on his features growing wider.
"Ya want dat piece o' gutter-trash marryin' Belle, an' carryin' out our mission f'r us?!?!" he cried, definitely not allowing himself to believe his father's words. This was unacceptable! Why could no one else in both Guilds see what a grave mistake would be made by binding the young couple together in holy matrimony? Glowering internally, Julien would, admittedly, much rather see Remy in an actual grave, and he silently swore to himself that he would be the man to put him there.
"First o' all, he won' find out 'bout de details o' dis job. Knowin' him, he'll help Belle just t' impress her," elucidated Marius, becoming more and more enthusiastic with his plot with each word he spoke. "An' secondly, dey're gettin' married whet'er we like it or not! Dey've been betrothed since dey were enfants (children), an' it'll secure peace b'tween de Guilds, ya know dat! Dat can work t' our advantage, until we get de power Candra promised us an' make our move. Besides," he added slyly. "Just b'tween us, we can always get rid o' LeBeau after de weddin'."
Julien was understandably thrilled at the menacing insinuation, but then grimaced – it would not be soon enough; at the rate that they were going, it seemed as if time would never catch up to his preferred pace. "He's not good enough f'r her! Not only is he some street brat, but he's a mutant aussi (too). Can't we jus' get rid o' him now?" he whined, hoping that his pleas would somehow have an effect on his father's decision.
"Non!" hollered the head Assassin, his annoyance with his son beginning to show. "We'll need him f'r dis plan, he's de best t'ief dey have! So don' ya dare stand in de way o' him an' Belle, comprends (understand)?"
The younger man scoffed, but nodded his head sullenly, like a petulant child being scolded.
"Bon. Go fetch her den, an' I'll give her de mission."
Julien departed from the room, leaving Marius alone to his delusional contemplations once more. He couldn't help but nod smugly in satisfaction to himself – how conveniently things would work out, and he was just getting started! The Thieves would unwittingly be brought down by one of their own... yes; there was no better benefit of his idea than that. As he waited for his other child to arrive, the sunlight receded from the room, escaping the den of iniquity.
———
This was one of those rare, languid days that Remy LeBeau often missed about his childhood – frolicking about beside the banks of the bayou, his feet being tickled by the mingling sensations of the water and mud. The sun, though heftily shining, always seemed to be perfectly in balance with the crystal waves of the Mississippi. For Remy, the scene reminded him of gazing hungrily through a glass panel surrounding a heavily protected jewel; the view from outside the case was incomparable to the striking and luminous innocence of whatever precious stone was stored inside.
However, Remy would only allow such an image to flitter temporarily in his mind, lest his captivation would resign him to being caught by the authorities – something that wasn't humanly possible. His dagger and kinetic touch would do the job – he'd be out of the area, the valued object sheltered in his coat, with him abandoning the feeling of regret for shattering the glass back in the siren-strung madhouse that was his latest, victimized museum.
Enough of that. Remy's head swivelled instinctively over to his right side, where his own jewel was laid. His eyes gleamed with pride, running his vision over her creamy, unblemished complexion, drinking in the tautness of her body in the fitting places, making him want to ride all over the map of her being – from the valley below, to the mountains above... except he'd fall over into the occasional ravine, especially when he'd trip over the stray rocks that were protruding from the ground of their relationship. Remy shrugged, grinning as he tucked a golden lock behind his angel's ear – he couldn't wait to plummet inside her mouth, where they'd –
"Havin' mo' fantasies again, cher?" Belladonna, the name which his goddess was christened with, crooned, her honeyed tone coaxing out the part of himself that he tried to keep under control most of the time.
"Oh, moi? Non, I was just thinkin' o' how funny Lapin looks when he's hung-over," Remy responded, a roguish grin emerging on his features. That's how he was – quick-witted (leave it to him to pick on Emil), readily able to cover up traces of unwanted spills (may they be blood, emotions, or wine) – this skill was very useful, as he was brought up this way.
"Vraiment (truly)!" Belle exclaimed, snaking her arms around his waist, tightening them, like a predator waiting only for the right moment to suffocate its prey. Remy was too engulfed in her aroma to notice the supercilious expression on his girlfriend's face, the one that marked sheer pride, victory, and possessiveness.
They hung onto each other that way, with Remy's hand resting loosely on her hips. While they stared into the endless bliss of the river, Remy's mind, being that mischievous entity that it was, decided to command said palm to grasp Belladonna a little tighter, his fingertips teasingly setting her garments ablaze for a short time, in order to get the attention that was effortlessly given to him. She giggled, batting her lashes in accordance to the mock-defensive movements she made, swatting his fingers away.
While the couple was having their fun, drowning in each other and with the rest of the world gradually melting away, a disgruntled figure snorted in the shadows of the surrounding trees, peering at the two with a glare that was most unpleasant.
This was exactly why Julien Boudreaux never let men touch his sister – he'd never let the one thing dearest to him be caught up in the unquenchable flames of their folly – particularly Remy LeBeau, the batârd (bastard).
After getting dangerously enraged, Julien, who never exactly had the skill of stealth on his side, crept up behind them, stomping on a few branches that littered the ground in the process. Remy, whose ears were expertly alert, stopped sweeping his fingers on his fiancée's belly and tensed, shooting up to meet one of his least favourite people.
"LeBeau," Julien grunted, plain loathing evident in that one word, which also conveyed a thousand other statements.
"Oui?" he replied, with the same defining air of disdain that emanated from his opponent.
Swallowing fiercely, Julien then spat on the ground, as if hoping that the image of LeBeau with Belle would exit his body in a similarly vile manner. At this point, he believed that keeping silent was the better option, for the knife pinned to his belt was becoming a very appealing alternative.
Belle, for her part, though appearing outwardly calm, secretly enjoyed the attention and the tension building between two of the most important men in her life – you didn't get this sort of action anywhere else. She knew it was shallow and wrong to keep wishing that this battle for her affection would span many years – but, as her name implied, she was a beautiful plant, seemingly exquisite to the senses, favourable to the imagination, but deadly to the touch.
Belle, of course, also had her limits – before their staring contest could turn out perilous, she jolted herself back into reality, stepping in between the Assassin and Thief. Remy immediately became concerned, his reflexes ready for anything that might be the result of her standing there – but what Remy and Belle were expecting from Julien came out differently.
Instead of posing a death threat for the nth time, Julien cleared his throat, muttered incomprehensively, and beckoned for his sister to follow him. When she didn't make a motion to, he instantly clutched her arm, dragging her away from Remy.
"Quoi (What)? As-tu un problême (Do you have a problem)?" Belle exacted angrily, leaving no room for an explanation from Julien. Remy was about to act protectively, but a pleading glance from Belladonna made him stay put, though the anger and worry were still apparent in his scorching eyes.
"Papa wants t' talk t' ya," Julien rushed, scowling at Remy, as if daring him to come any closer. Without allowing Belle to respond, Julien shot one last dirty look in Remy's direction and tugged forcefully at his sister's hand, which left Belle to the mercy of the older Assassin.
"Don't ya dare follow," Julien stated in a frighteningly calm manner, turning his back to Remy and beginning to cater to a protesting younger sister, who was simultaneously begging Remy to keep by the bayou's side, reassuring him to no avail. Moments later, the Boudreaux siblings, now trapped in a heated discussion, exited from the scene, leaving Remy with only the towering trees and hidden alligators for company.
Remy, for his part, expelled the seething sensation that he was experiencing by grabbing a rock, balling his fits securely around it, sparking it, and sending the newly-born firework into the sky by hurtling it towards the river - it shone fiercely and radiantly for a few moments, before falling into the submergence that was its death.
Was this how his relationship with Belle was destined to be, with so many hurdles along the way? Or, a small voice within whispered, is the briefness of the flame of your 'love' a symbolism of what you just did? Face it – your life with Belle is just like a flaming stone thrown into the water. Sometimes it skips high; other times, it just sinks to the bottom of nothing. Either way, the spark's going to be put out, and that leaves you nowhere.
"I'm a T'ief," Remy affirmed, pacing restlessly. "An' dat means I'm stubborn. We will get dis t' work, no matter what it takes – our Guild has always overthrown de ot'er in de past – we'll be able t' do it again, especially in de game o' love."
Strangely, Remy felt a new strength surface because of his words. He leaned down, tidied up the remains of their unfinished picnic, and, with a determination that outshone the former doubt he had, decided to march up to his fiancée's residence. He would insist on an explanation for Julien's ruder-than-usual behaviour; he should've had the sense to at least inform Remy of what he was planning to do with Belle. If Remy's hunch was correct (but he prayed it wasn't), then Julien might be desiring to take his incestuously-inclined obsession with Belladonna to another level, and Remy seriously disagreed with that mental image – it was just too disturbing to picture a bumble-less bee forcing itself onto his favourite flower.
Well, there you have it! What say you? Think we're insane for having Remy with Belle here, and we're losing our touch with the Romyness? We're crazy, but we're not that demented, 'cause Belle deserves to be eaten alive by the alligators in the bayou! But the poor alligators don't warrant such a fate; they'd probably get indigestion... Are you in suspense with what the Assassins could possibly be plotting? Whatever it is, drop us a line, and please review! We know you can't resist clicking repeatedly on that little button at the bottom of the page – it's in the left corner, too. ;-)
Look for the next chapter... Well... Considering how long it took us to get this out, it might be a while, huh? ;-) Don't worry, it'll be here eventually, and your feedback might help change the situation, so... we think you know what to do! :D
- melancholic & ishandahalf -