xp_logs | Remy and Ororo and Edgar DeVos

In Chicago, Ororo makes contact with a member of the Guild with the hopes of finding out more about 'Pere LeBeau'. She does, but the answers only lead to more questions.

It was Chicago. You really couldn't say much else about it, especially in the slightly grotty neighbourhood that Remy had driven to following their check through in the airport. They had gone over the details several times, pulling out unnecessary details until a simple plan was worked out. It was not that either of them expected danger, but things kept coming out of the blue, and Remy had commented several times that he believed there was something coming.

Technically the Thieves Guild were his allies, but that didn't mean they didn't have secrets and an agenda of their own. The Pere LeBeau comment, seemingly insignificant, had set him wondering, and the only way to get the information was through a third party. Ororo's cover was simple; a younger member from Miami, on the run after the purge and heading for her new place in Seattle. Stuck in Chicago looking for some Guild business to build up a larger roll before going back to her training. He'd shown her many of the subtle Guild signs, and her story would cover her clumsiness. Besides, he'd given her enough specific information that she'd know what names to drop, and Ororo had better tradecraft skills than half the Guild anyways. It would work.

Chicago. Throughout the trip Ororo had been trying her hardest to ignore the memories of the last time they had visited the city on the lake; conversation and planning helped, of course, but in the quiet moments she found the remembrances creeping back in. She wasn't so much nervous about the upcoming enounter as distracted, and she knew that wasn't an ideal state of mind for such potential risky business.

Remy squeezed her shoulder. "You up for dis, chere? Dere's some other things dat we could try if you not." He didn't want her getting herself into something if she wasn't in the right headspace. He wanted to know what was going on, but wasn't keen to risk Ororo if the time wasn't right.

"No... I mean yes, of course I am ready," she said with a shake of her head. "This is important, and I will do my best, Remy. I promise you that."

"Never doubted dat, 'Ro. Just make de call if you not comfortable doing dis right now." Remy pulled a package out of his pocket and handed it over. "Dat's de material for Edger DeVos from Chris Lewis. You tell dem 'bout Chris's death, give dem de package, and dat should be enough for dem to accept dat you really Guild. You get worried, you hit de button and Remy come in. Dat will be 'nough to stop any suspicions, even if it does mean we not going to find out what's happening."

"That will not be necessary," Ororo replied, summoning conviction to back up her words and giving Remy a tight smile. She was dressed innocuously enough, and her distinctive hair she had covered with scarf, knotting it to let the loose ends trail down her back. "Let us get this over with, shall we?" Leaning in to kiss his cheek briefly, Ororo then let herself out of the rental car and started across the street, her steps a bit uneven on the cracked, bumpy sidewalk.

The bar was a stand alone affair, surrounded by a parking lot and an autoshop. Coming through the doorway was like entering a small cave, the windows covered by bars and neon signs, which blocked out most of the sunlight. Inside, small lamps from the ceiling lit the tables, and behind the bar, a rack of lights lit up the mirror. There were only a couple of people in, mostly sitting around the tables in the back. As Ororo walked in, the bartender appeared, leaning on the edge of the bar.

"Starting early?"

"That depends." Her accent wasn't the half-cultured, slightly exotic one she usually wore; this time she put on a semi-Southern drawl as she angled her steps towards the bar. The closed-in feeling of the room made her skin crawl, but she managed to look at ease as she came to a halt next to the row of stools. "I have a delivery to make; anything else'll have to wait for afterwards."

"Delivery, huh?" He said, looking her up and don't. "You don't look like FedEx, Miss. Believe me."

Ignoring the quip, 'Ro leaned an elbow on the bar and gave the man a sideways glance. "It's for Edgar. He in?"

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean Edgar Martinez? I fired that greasy wetback after the third time he didn't show up for work last week." He continued to wipe the bar with his rag, but Ororo could see the curl of his thumb to touch the bottom of his index finger. "If you're a relative, he ain't got no pay coming. Stole a bottle from the back rack before he took off. You want that drink now?"

"Sure. I'll have a shot." Ororo waited for the man to retrieve the glass and bottle from behind the bar and face her again before moving her fingers the way Remy had showed her in the car. "Sounds like you've been having problems with the staff. It's tough, keeping them under control sometimes."

"Only people that hang around are the ones that are crap." He nodded towards the booths at the rear. "I'll bring your drink over, Miss."

After a few minutes, the bartender appeared, and switched on the lamp in the back of the booth. It didn't shed much light, and gave off a horrible buzzing sound. Nodding in satisfaction, he slid across from Ororo and passed over the drink.

"Whatever braindead slice of fuck that trained you ought to have his head kicked in. Coming in here, asking directly for me." He pointed at the lamp. "You can talk freely. Any bugs can't pickup over the sound. No such thing as too careful, especially not now."

Looking suitably cowed - she was supposed to be inexperienced, after all (and she was) - Ororo nodded her understanding, taking the shot and downing it as if hoping the alcohol would calm her unsteady nerves. "You have no idea. I was in Miami before I got here. The weather's better, but that's about all. It's a real mess down there."

"It's a real fucking mess every where else, kid. I heard that the Assassins have roving crews, trying to round up whole networks of us now." He said. "Miami, huh. That make you one of Cross' kids?" He said, suspicion still in his eyes.

Ororo made a face, deliberately cribbing the expression from her students when she announced a particularly unfair test or homework assignment. "Unless you're calling Chris by another name now that he's gone, no." Slowly she reached into her coat pocket, fishing out the hastily-wrapped, fist-sized package and setting it on the table in front of Edgar.

He picked it up, and tore off the newspaper to reveal a puzzle box. With a slightly sad smile, he started shifting slots until the lid finally opened. "Dammit. I heard that Chris had caught one, but I didn't really believe it until now. I gave him this box, you know? It's 18th century cinnabar from Southern China. Our first big job together, stealing these four jade statues en route from the Met to the University of Texas. This sort of, well, fell into my pocket during the job. When Chris was the only one who could figure out how to open it, I gave it to him."

DeVos fished a small key out of the box, and slipped it into his pocket before setting the piece aside. "Figures. If he knew they were on to him, he would have tried to get you kids clear first. Some of us would have used you to buy us time instead." He sighed. "Arlen and Pere LeBeau better find a solution quick. Otherwise, there won't be a guild left to save. You heading for Seattle, huh? What's your specialty?"

In response Ororo merely smiled smugly and placed the key from his pocket back out in front of him; she was surprised at how easy it had been to lift it but tried not to let that show. "Chris said with my face and my fingers I could be really useful to the guild. 'Course, he didn't get very far in teaching me before those bastards showed up. You said there's someone working on fixing the problem? 'Cause if there is, I want to help."

"Yeah? I want a blowjob from Angelina Jolie. You arrange that and we'll talk." He took the key back. "You're a little fish in this world, lady. You got fast fingers, I'll give you that. Plus, any mark is likely so busy looking at them tits of yours that you probably don't even need the brushpass or the bump. That doesn't make you a full thief yet."

DeVos sighed and leaned back in the booth. "Don't take it so hard. It's all going on above my head too. Word is to keep our heads down, stay alive, and wait until we can ram a surprise up Belladonna's ass."

Pouting, Ororo inched the shotglass along the tabletop with her fingers, looking up in mild surprise when DeVos mentioned Belladonna's name. "If we know who's behind it, why aren't we doing anything?" she asked brashly. "Why d'we have to wait for Arlen and this LeBeau chump to squeeze out an idea?"

"Because, meat, this is a Thieves Guild, and we wait for the Guildmaster to decide when to act. I don't know Pere LeBeau much, but Arlen says he's cunning like a snake. He'll go after Belladonna when he's got a chance to take her all the way down." Edger shook his head. "Personally, I'd feel more comfortable with Arlen as the Guildmaster, but that's not my call either. You want to be successful here, you don't try and shrug off the guild authorities. There's been more than a few apprentices that thought they didn't have to listen any more that turned up dead in the past, understand?"

"Yes," she said sullenly, looking for all the world like a chastised student. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want them to pay for what they did to Chris." She allowed a hint of sorrow to creep into her expression, swallowing and slouching back against the booth.

"Don't. Chris kept you alive, you owe it to him to stay that way. If all this goes bad, you kids might be all that's left of the guild in a year." Edger stood up. "If you come back in a couple of days, I can likely set you up with Cheri in Milwaukee. She's another lift specialist. She can show you a few tricks while you build up a roll to get to Seattle on. Now, I gotta pay some attention to the bar. You keep yourself out of trouble until then, alright?"

Nodding, Ororo slid out of the booth, anxious to be on her way now that she had been dismissed. The urge to pause for another drink was strong, but so was the desire to get out of the dark, closed-in space and into the light. "Thanks for the drink," she murmured, shoving her hands in her pockets and heading for the door.