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#14
JUN 09 |
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“A Sinister Meeting”
Remy LeBeau stretched. It was his first day out of bed since he’d been stabbed by Bella Donna*, and he was ready to put himself to the test.
He pulled a shirt on and crept into the grand entrance hall. With a smile, he climbed the stairs. He let his eyes roam over the room, remembering an exercise routine he’d concocted over a decade before. He climbed onto the railing around the room, made one last mental check, and launched himself into the air.
He grabbed hold of the chandelier, then vaulted to the flags that hung around the room. After circling the room, he effortlessly returned to the chandelier then landed on the second floor’s railing. He stepped down onto the floor and turned to discover Jean-Luc LeBeau standing there, looking out over the room.
“So dat’s why de chandelier was always loose,” Jean-Luc said. Remy simply smiled and shrugged in response.
Jean-Luc returned his gaze to his son. “I might’ve known I’d find you pushin’ yo’self. How long have you been outta bed, anyway?”
Remy ran a hand back through his hair. “About fifteen minutes,” he admitted sheepishly. Jean-Luc shook his head. “To be honest, I’m surprised you waited dat long.” He walked over to Remy. “Well, since you’re up, let’s see it.”
Remy obediently turned around and lifted his shirt. Jean-Luc leaned close and studied the small scar. “How’s it feel?” he asked.
“Not bad,” Remy admitted. “A little tight, but dat’s to be expected.”
Jean-Luc nodded and straightened up. “Just do what de doctors tell you,” he said. “No workin’ yo charms on dem.”
“I promise,” Remy said.
Jean-Luc started down the corridor. “And no sneakin’ out!” he called as he rounded the corner.
Remy smiled and shook his head. “It’s good to be home,” he mused as he started back downstairs.
Not far away, a glowing portal opened on the wall of a house that had been deserted for decades. A man clad in black leather looked around the room. He smirked (his usual response). “I go away for a few years and everything just falls apart,” he mused. Despite his arrogant exterior, he was inwardly pleased. When another of his labs in the building had been discovered, the populace of New Orleans had burned the house. A lab he had reconstructed had been similarly destroyed, and his researcher had vanished. He was pleased that his fireproof lab hidden deeper inside the house had survived untouched. Untouched? He scowled as he noticed a broken spider web that had draped from the ceiling to a book covered by inches of dust. His eyes widened as he realized which book it was. The scowl grew wider. Someone had violated one of Mr. Sinister’s sanctums, and that someone would pay.
Jacob Gavin walked down the streets of New Orleans, his mind set on a cup of coffee. The sun was shining and the city was peaceful. After he’d received his coffee, he sat down on a bench and watched the crowd. His nose crinkled as he recognized the ragged breathing of someone who had tried (unsuccessfully) to sneak up behind him.
“What do you want, Souris?” Gavin asked as he tried to be inconspicuous in following a woman in a short skirt as she walked past.
“I have information you m-m-might be interested in,” Souris said.
Gavin took another drink. “Really. Then why haven’t you run to one of your other clients?” He smiled his movie star smile at the woman and got a small grin in return.
“B-b-because this concerns you. And N-n-new Son.”
Gavin spun around as the woman suddenly found something interesting in a shop window. “You have thirty seconds. Spit it out.”
Souris smiled. “I’ll w-w-want my usual amount.”
“You’ve got it. Now spill.”
Souris nodded. “The Antiquary is b-b-back,” he said before vanishing into the crowd. Gavin was troubled by the news. He quickly called Fontanelle to pass the news along. Then he spent a very pleasant evening with the girl he’d noticed on the street. Her name was Fifi, and she was a French stewardess.
“The Antiquary.” New Son steepled his fingers. He was sitting on a throne in his Crystal Cathedral. Fontanelle stood before him. New Son stood and began to pace. “This complicates matters.”
“Surely he cannot cause the level of problems you suspect,” Fontanelle said, trying to get at more information.
New Son turned to look at her. Through the glow surrounding him, Fontanelle could barely make out a hint of a smile. “Very clever,” he said. “Trying to get me to open up? You know what you need to.” At a nod, a shadowtech moved a control and Fontanelle returned to her home. New Son shook his head as she vanished. This woman could be more troublesome than he’d anticipated.
The Antiquary’s eyes fluttered open as he heard shouts coming from the front of his home. Thuds sounded as he stood. Although concerned, he forced his face to remain passive as he sat on a nearby seat. Finally, the doors to his chamber flew open. Mr. Sinister stormed inside. Behind Sinister was a scene of chaos. The Antiquary’s servants had been thrown about as if they were small children, smashing into walls and furniture. “Please come in,” the Antiquary invited.
Jacques stepped inside the infirmary just in time to catch Remy with his bed turned up against the wall, doing chin-ups on the rail. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” Jacques asked.
“Nope,” Remy replied as he continued. “You know we can’t allow ourselves to slow down, what wit’ our line of business.”
Jacques smiled and sat down. “I was wondering how you were doing,” he said.
Remy dropped to the floor and sat down opposite his brother. “Just bored,” he admitted. “Dey don’t seem to want me to leave.”
Jacques got a knowing smile as an attractive young nurse walked past, fighting to keep herself from peeking in the room. “I’m sure you could find something to keep you occupied,” he said.
Remy shook his head. “Too stressful, dey say,” he said. “You know what it’s like to be cooped up in here?”
Jacques nodded. “I’ve spent my share of time in here. You can’t expect to live as a Thief and not get a few nicks and bruises.”
Remy smiled as he heard that, another of his father’s old sayings. The two continued talking for a long time.
The Antiquary was remarkably calm. Despite his rage, Sinister was impressed. He had just fought his way through the Antiquary’s guards and now the man was standing there as calm as if he had dropped by for a cup of tea! Sinister strode into the room and closed the doors behind him, cutting off the moans of the wounded he’d left behind.
The Antiquary moved peacefully to a small cabinet, where he withdrew a bottle of wine. “1643,” he said. “An excellent vintage. I’m sure you will agree.” The Antiquary poured two glasses and let Sinister select one. He waited until they had both drunk to ask his next question. “What is the purpose of your visit?” he asked.
Rage flared in Sinister again. “You know very well,” he snarled. “I have evidence that you interfered with one of my labs.”
The Antiquary smiled. “Did it take you this long to notice? My geneticist vanished over a year ago.”
Sinister stepped forward. “He was working for me.”
The Antiquary raised a hand. “He was also working on my behalf.” He took another drink of wine. “Is that all this is about?”
“No,” Sinister said. “One of my journals was interfered with.”
“Ah,” the Antiquary said. “Doubtless some of your Summers family research.”
“So you did interfere with it.”
“No,” the Antiquary said. “I simply knew that this is the only thing to cause you to get that upset.” The Antiquary set his glass down and returned to his throne. “I have absolutely no interest in your beloved Summers brothers.”
Sinister stepped forward. “I have heard whispers that LeBeau may very well be one of them. I require further testing of him to be sure.”
The Antiquary smiled again. “There is no testing required. He is not a Summers. It appears that you will have to content yourself with Scott and Alex.”
“How do you know?” Sinister demanded. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I dealt with LeBeau’s birth parents long ago. They are not the ones you seek.” The Antiquary made a dismissive gesture. “Go now. Play with Scott and Alex Summers. Play with their children. Play with any of those so called `X-Men.’“ The Antiquary leaned forward and all the kindness vanished from his face. “But Remy LeBeau is mine. Do not harm him or you will have me to deal with.” Sinister scowled and turned. The Antiquary watched every step he took until he was gone.
Fontanelle looked around. She hadn’t expected to be back in the Crystal Cathedral so soon. “I have heard that Mr. Sinister was spotted recently,” New Son said without any sort of preamble.
Fontanelle paled. “I hope you’re not planning on having me poke around in his dreams,” she said. “I happen to like living.”
New Son smiled. “That will not be necessary. I have seen what is coming next. I have simply brought you here to ensure that you do not interfere in what is to happen next.”
Fontanelle’s eyes widened as New Son motioned at a wall. The view on the wall (now more of a viewer) was very familiar…
Remy LeBeau’s eyes fluttered open. “Somebody dere?” he asked. “You docs ain’t gonna try `n drug me again, are you?”
His eyes went wide as a light caught a silver blade that was hovering in the darkness. A moment later, a familiar face entered the light.
“Bon soir, lover,” Bella Donna said. “Prepare to die.”
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To Be Continued...
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