New Orleans is Sinking: Epilogue
Oct. 1st, 2007 02:37 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsX-Forces faces something entirely new for them; being heroes.
Communities don't operate under official communications. There is an organic way in which knowledge gets passed from person to person, which isn't directly attributable to any one of them. It exists like a pulse going through the streets, rippling across the groups, and provided knowledge in an immersive fashion. It was as if one minute they were unaware, and the next, completely informed. That was the situation in the Lower Ninth Ward.
Hundreds of thousands of people had slowly emerged from their houses and shelters, looking up at the sky which had no longer held the roiling clouds. The ominous skys and threat of destruction had been replaced with a misting rain and even the hint of sun. The word on the street slowly trickled through, jumping from group to group like an electric spark. The information was simple; a few hours ago, the knowledge was that death was coming for them. Now the information was that death had been twarted, and that it had been because of a group of people from out of town, who had some how made it happen.
The haunted feeling had been replaced with a sense of unbridled joy. The streets filled with people, and a party-like atmosphere began. New Orleans had always been on the knife edge between a party and a riot, and this time, the party seemed to be winning out.
***
Amanda looked doubtfully at Tante, but after the events of the previous night, who was she to argue with the impossible-sounding? Pulling her cell out, she made the call, waiting for Illyana to pick up.
"What?" The usual edge in Illyana's voice had sharpened; in the background, the sound of machines continued a slow, steady rhythm. As though she'd briefly considered the reasons for a call like this, she added flatly, "She can't breathe on her own, so she probably won't be able to hear any tearful goodbyes. Just saying."
"No goodbyes, least not today." Amanda glanced over at Tante, who nodded at her. "Actually, you're invited to a bit of a party. Both of you."
"Oh," Illyana said, a touch wearily, "Is that it? A party? Okay. Call Sofia; you're crazy."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "'Yana," she said, a little more firmly. "Just 'port you and Angie down here, all right? You both need to be in New Orleans."
Illyana seemed to take a moment to inhale - or simply to count to ten. "First of all," she said, "first of all, I can't. And secondly, even if I could without getting us both stranded someplace, it wouldn't help, because whatever you' ve.got cooked up, we're still two or three hours away. So unless there's a reason why you think reality has changed since ten minutes ago. . . " She trailed off. She didn't even particularly like Marie-Ange, but this wasn't exactly her idea of fun. In general.
Amanda looked over at Tante, a little helplessly. "She's being stubborn. She can't 'port passengers and there's a couple of hours' lag between her leaving there and turning up here."
"Tante imagine dats likely de case normally." Tante Mattie nodded, with that same serene impenetrability as always. "Since I said so, ja tell de childe dat she needs to trust in what ja saying."
With a small nod, Amanda spoke into the phone again. "'Yana, I know. It sounds completely balmy. But I'm gunna have to ask you to trust me on this one and just try, yeah?" Her left palm itched, and she switched the phone to her other hand, looking at the scar on her palm before rubbing the itchy place on her jeans leg in an effort to relieve it. "Everything's gunna be all right, you just have to trust me." Her grin came through her voice with the next. "'Sides, this is magic, yeah? Since when has it stuck to any of the rules? They're mostly just guidelines, any way."
"Oh, for the love of God, let's just agree that I'm going to do what you're saying because you went to Africa for me, and leave the rest of that trust-me woo-woo crap for a very distant future, okay? If she dies, it's your fault, that's all. I'm not taking responsibility. Also, I'm not talking to that creepy old lady."
"You're not gunna be responsible for anything, 'Yana. This one's on me." Amanda gave Tante a quick nod to let her know Illyana had agreed. "Give us a sec and I'll let you know on the count of three."
"Creepy old lady?" Tante said, somehow knowing what Illyana was saying. Her smile was broad and white. "Dat's something dat de childe is 'bout to learn how right she is. Now, reach out to Marie-Ange, childe. Dere's a link between jah. Find it."
Oh, Illyana was going to love Tante... Suppressing her grin, Amanda concentrated on the task at hand. It wasn't easy, picturing Marie-Ange as she'd been the last time Amanda had seen her still and silent in the hospital bed, dwarfed by the machines keeping her alive, and that image sobered her quickly despite the natural high of the people around them. Closing her eyes, she focussed harder, remembering that moment of darkness after healing Alison. Feeling those threads pulling her back. One of the strongest of those had been Marie-Ange - it was just a matter of finding it. After a long moment, she spoke: "I think I've got it."
Tante didn't say a word, instead simply gesturing slightly and closed her eyes. New Orleans was Tante's place of power. Nothing in the mystic life of the city was separated from her, and now, as if a dam was opened, the energy of millions suddenly spilled over into Amanda's power. Desperately harnessing the torrent of energy, it was a simple thing to plug it to that thread, and watch it grow ebullient with power. It bucked and flared and fatly transmitted life over thousands of miles back to Illyana and Marie-Ange.
The itching of her palm flared into a fully-fledged tug as the power of New Orleans hit Amanda's mutant senses. No, it was more than just the city, as intoxicating as that was. It was the energy of everyone around them, rescuers and rescued all in one. Amanda knew better than to argue - this was a gift, and she knew exactly who it was for. "'Yana, count of three," she said distantly. "One, two..."
Under the machine noises and hushed footsteps and voices pitched so as not to disturb the patients, distant voices streamed in, songs and catcalls and whistles shouted and yet somehow still a whisper, barely carrying past where Marie-Ange lay and Illyana stood.
The voices rose around the girls, and the medicinal air took on the smell of sweat, and thick swampy humidity and alcohol and salt and spicy creole food.
Outside the room, the smells and sounds drifted out to a passing nurse, who stopped in her rounds to investigate the disruption.
As she opened the door to the room, Illyana grasped Marie-Ange's limp hand and opened a portal. After all, if Amanda's insane little plan didn't work, all that would happen is that whoever was opening the door would find an empty room with screaming machines and a missing occupant.
The passage of time between St. Vincent's and New Orleans was only long enough to be measured in two steady slow breaths, Illyana's exhalation of relief (not that she would admit it, ever) when Marie-Ange's hand tightened on hers, and Marie-Ange's deep intake of air.
Arrival was the definition of graceless, as Illyana was pulled down by Marie-Ange landing on the floor in a tangle of hoses and IV lines and sheets. The bed, ventilator and IV stand had not been teleported with her, but the equipment attached to her had.
Oh, this was just great. Teleportation: Now with bruises and extraneous human contact. Illyana began to hastily disentangle herself from the pile of wires and fabric, shooting Amanda a baleful glare.
Marie-Ange wasn't even fully conscious, but she knew something was in her nose and throat and it was uncomfortable and she wanted it out -now-. Still wrapped in the bedsheet she yanked at the tube coming out of her nose, gagging as she pulled it out.
It took three tries before she got it out, and she reached up blindly, grabbing the nearest thing she could to steady herself, and then opening her eyes to look up at Amanda and Tante and Illyana.
Illyana looked sideways at Amanda, and finally exhaled irritably. "You couldn't get the stupid tubes out of her face while you were at this, whatever the hell is going on here? I mean, that's just disgusting."
For her part, Amanda was barely keeping herself upright, only the city's mood bouying her flagging energy levels. "Didn't really have time for the fine details," she told Illyana, but nothing could keep the joy from her voice as she moved to wrap the wobbly Marie-Ange in a tight hug. It seemed entirely likely both girls would wind up on the ground again from mutual unsteadiness. "Sight for sore eyes, roomie."
Marie-Ange coughed a few more times, leaning heavily against Amanda,and then peered down into the sheet wrapped around her. "Could I please get some clothes? I think I would rather celebrate whatever miracle you have worked without showing myself in just a bedsheet." A quick glance around confirmed the theory she'd developed in the second between arrival and full consciousness. "It is not Mardi Gras, and I do not need any beaded necklaces."
"Oh, I think we can manage something." Amanda kept her arm wrapped around Marie-Ange's waist, for support, to support and just to satisfy herself the other girl was actually there and in one piece. "Let's go find Janelle." Her grin turned wicked. "'Yana, this is Tante. She gave you the power to get you both here and she's more scary than you are in your wildest dreams. Have fun!" And with that, she began leading Marie-Ange to where Tante's girls were waiting.
***
Doug pushed his jambalaya around the plate and did his best to look appreciative. The New Orleans natives were showing their gratitude to the mutants who had saved them from Belladonna's mad plan, but he kept worrying about Marie-Ange. The people who had given him just enough time to change into dryer clothes before hauling him down to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant had reassured him that "Tante got it under control", but all he could see was Marie-Ange unconscious in a hospital bed. Upon hearing that Doug was "dat white boy who eat Tante's extra-hot gumbo", the proprietor of the restaurant had rubbed his hands together and hollered back to the kitchen to break out the good stuff. And the jambalaya was really good, Doug had to admit. It was just that his mind wasn't on his appetite.
As he poked at a piece of shrimp with his fork, his cell phone buzzed twice in his pocket, startling him nearly upright. As he sat back down, he pulled his phone out to see who was texting him. The number was from a New Orleans phone number, and the text merely said, "Go outside and look up." Confused, Doug slid his bowl away from him and stood, wandering slowly out the front door. His glanced up at the balcony of the small but comfortable looking hotel across the street, then his eyes widened as his brain caught up with the input it was receiving.
In addition to the clothes she'd asked for upon arrival, Marie-Ange had managed to get a place to take a hot shower and wash her hair, and then had been beset upon by Tante's girls' best efforts to put 'some meat on her bones'. Which thankfully hadn't involved eating anything painful, and had mostly been soup and bread and a lot of tea that smelled suspiciously like one of Amanda's old potions. It had done a lot to settle her stomach and soothe the sore throat she'd gotten from removing the ventilator tubes.
She'd gone out on the tiny balcony to get some idea of where she was, so she could give directions when she'd seen the blond hair and familiar-looking Colorado Rockies T-shirt in the window of a restaurant across the street. ~Of course.~ She'd thought, there was almost no such thing as a coincidence where Tante was concerned.
Doug had much the same thought running through his head, as the secretive smiles of the people who had dragged him to the restaurant suddenly made more sense. He couldn't really blame them, though. He liked a happy ending just as much as the next person. He dashed across the street, into the hotel, past the grinning desk clerk, up a flight of stairs, and down to a room whose door was already open. Gathering Marie-Ange into his arms, he swung her up and around in sheer giddy joy before setting her down to kiss her tenderly.
"I am told all of you have saved the city.." Marie-Ange said with a smile, once she -could- speak. "It was all anyone could tell me about once I arrived." She paused, and grinned. "After Amanda stopped trying to hug me to pieces. Although I cannot really blame her, no?"
Doug had been too busy hugging her to pieces himself to initially respond to her greeting, and even when he loosened his grip so they could both speak, he was loath to let go completely, and his arms stayed wrapped around her waist. "We all did what we could, and luckily it was enough." There was no false modesty in Doug's statement, as their success had owed to a healthy amount of luck and assistance from others.
"All you could and more..." Marie-Ange whispered, resting her head against Doug's chest. She'd been given the full report once she'd been aware enough to make sense of it. "I am told there is a celebration..." She said, changing the subject. "Perhaps we should go down and join it?"
A quip about staying in and having their own private celebration stalled on Doug's lips as he took in how tired and drawn-looking Marie-Ange was. If she had wanted to stay and have celebratory sex, she wouldn't have suggested going and joining the larger celebration. And he could wait, anyway, now that she'd been returned to him. "Sure," he said, clasping one of her hands in his. "I bet the place across the street hasn't even cleared away my jambalaya yet..."
***
The party atmosphere in New Orleans was a fluid thing, the members of X-Force being drawn apart and together by the throng of celebrants, almost by some design. Doug's meeting up with Marie-Ange strained the bounds of happenstance. The reunion had him in too good of a mood to question things, though, so when he and Marie-Ange were parted by the crowd, he knew they would meet back up. And as the redheaded French woman was spun out of his arms, a blonde Brit was spun into them and he grinned.
"Doug!" Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, one part hug and one part holding herself up - after the magic that had passed through her in the last twelve hours, she was not altogether stable on her feet. For all that, she was practically giddy with joy. "You're okay! Did you see Angie? She's all fixed!"
"I've seen her," Doug acknowledged, his expression free of any sort of tension or worry for the first time in days. He picked Amanda up off her feet and hugged her until her ribs creaked. "Do I have you to thank for my little miracle?" His voice roughened a bit despite the wide grin, a hint of the whirlwind of emotion he'd felt in the past hour or so.
"Oof!" The breath was squeezed out of her, but Amanda hugged him back just as tightly. "Bit of a joint effort. Me, Tante, 'Yana and pretty much everyone here. Oh, and New Orleans too. Sort of a thank you present from the city for saving it." It was a bit of a jumble, but Amanda knew Doug would work it out.
Between their long friendship and the brief time they had been even closer, it was easy for Doug to get the gist of what Amanda meant. "Thank you," he said simply, knowing she would understand all the things left unsaid in his voice.
"You're welcome." Her own response was just as brief, but told him she knew exactly what he meant. She hugged him again, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Couldn't leave her like that, and Tante let me use her power." Her grin turned a little loopy again. "Still is, actually. 'S why I'm not flat on my arse right now."
"I noticed," Doug told her wryly. She was only not flat on her arse by the barest bit, but he kept a solid hold. He wouldn't let her fall, not after all she'd done for him.
***
Snow Valley tended to act like an extended family a lot of times. Squabbles, teasing but most importantly, the spread of gossip. And news. Wanda had been told of Marie-Ange and Illyana's teleporting, and the healing, just a few minutes ago and now she was pushing her way through the crowd as fast as she could without knocking anyone over.
Doug's manner of weaving through a crowd like it was a maze to be solved and Wanda's method of parting it like Moses and the Red Sea were entirely so different that they came around the other side and ended up being equally effective. Marie-Ange had just stepped outside to catch a breath of air and saw what was unmistakably Wanda heading her way. She stood up from the step and waved her arm at the older woman. "Wanda! Je suis ici! I am over here!"
Seeing Marie-Ange up and around brought a smile so wide to Wanda's face that it actually hurt. Ignoring the slick streets, she sped up enough to clear the space between them in just a few steps. And as the bass of the music surrounding them thrummed through her chest, she reached out and tugged Marie-Ange against her, laughing as she started them into an impromptu dance. "Oh, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes," she said, voice thick with emotion.
It didn't matter that she was in a pair of jeans that were a size and a half too big with her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of her face and in a pair of sandals that were best left shoved under a bed. Marie-Ange hadn't even noticed the state of her clothes until after Doug had found her, and for once - she didn't care either. "Everyone is twirling me around tonight!" Marie-Ange proclaimed happily, spinning under Wanda's arm. "I rather like it!"
"I am surprised they actually let you go!" Despite Wanda's exhaustion--the energy from the crowd was buoying her up and she was determined to ride that as far as she could--and water that squelched under their feet, their dancing was good enough to attract some attention. Hands clapping to the beat gave them something else to dance along to and Wanda couldn't help laughing again as she brought Marie-Ange back around from the last spin. "How are you feeling?"
"I was not sure Amanda or Doug were going to!" Another twirl, if a touch unsteady, and Marie-Ange giggled. "If I was not having such a good time, I would be quite tired." She said. "And if I was not being fed every time I turned around." She'd finally braved solid food that wasn't bread earlier, although certainly not Doug's sort of food.
She snorted in amusement. "This crowd? Food, never. I swear this one person nearly shoved a muffin in my mouth, despite the fact that I had already had two! And I think if you weren't exhausted, holding it off or no, I might be more worried. After everything, I think you deserve a few days at home sleeping in your own bed."
"Oh no! No more sleeping!" Marie-Ange protested. "I think I have had more than my share of sleep. I am not going to a bed until I am too exhausted to stand upright." Despite not remembering any of her time recovering from surgery, she had no intention of returning to that state anytime soon. "Or I suppose, no time in a bed for sleep. I imagine Doug may have ideas.." She grinned cheekily.
"Careful of my virgin ears," Wanda said, mock-sniffing in disdain. "You lot might just corrupt me one of these days." She winked and then turned suddenly, dipping Marie-Ange as low as she could without dragging her hair on the street. The crowd was delighted and Wanda grinned down at her. "Though you should thank Amanda since now you and Doug will have plenty of time for...ideas."
Marie-Ange finally righted herself, letting Wanda pull her up and into another hug. "Amanda was there when I arrived. If I thank her as much as I think she deserves, she would be stuck listening to me and not be able to enjoy the party." The hug was spun out into another twirl, and had both women not been tired and a little wobbly, what could've been a lift. As it was, Marie-Ange slid under Wanda's arm with a little flourish.
After they both got their footing back, Wanda slide an arm around Marie-Ange's shoulders and squeezed her gently. "You know, we are very good at this. You, fresh from the hospital, me fresh from fighting assassins with bombs and we still manage to dance like stars. We, my dear, have talent."
"We should do this more often." Marie-Ange agreed. "But perhaps when we are not exhausted the next time." She hugged back, and then gestured back inside towards where she thought Doug was. "Only with men. Or at least, dates. Because while I like you very much, I would much rather dance with Doug." She thought for a moment. "You could ask Kurt! Amanda says he needs to get out and do more..."
"You know, that's a very good idea. He and I were hitting the dance circuit for a while, right before I was possessed. He is very, very good." Wanda thought about it and realized they could all do with some time out that didn't involve violence. "But for now, let us see if we can find our wayward coworkers." Her tone turned teasing and innocent as they started for the doors. "Now, I think drinks are called for but, really, you have just been in the hospital so I will throw myself upon your share."
***
It was surprisingly easy to find Amanda in the crowds, in part because of Wanda's height but also because where ever a Snow Valley person was, they had a ring of people around them. The older woman whistled at Amanda and held up some food that people had shoved into her arms. It was, she decided, one of the best ways of saying thank you.
Amanda looked up as Wanda approached the bench she was sitting on, giving her a tired, slightly loopy grin. "Hey, Boss Lady!" she said with a wave - there was a bottle of bourbon in it, a third of the way down. "They showing you a good time?"
"Are they ever," she responded, pausing as an older lady came up and gestured for her to lean over so that she could kiss Wanda on the cheek. Wanda grinned afterwards and finished making her way to Amanda. "Food? And the answer should be yes because I cannot actually feel my arms under this load."
"More food? Just as well I could eat a horse." The witch unslung her arm from around the shoulders of a happily-grinning young man, handing him the bottle. "Cheers, mate." As he gave her a friendly slap on the back and wandered off into the crowd, Amanda leaned against Wanda, grabbing a fried chicken leg from the container at the top of the pile in Wanda's arms. "This is fucking amazing. Yesterday we were all gunna die. Today? We're heroes. Like the X-Men and all."
Stretching her legs out in front of her, Wanda shifted the food around so it wasn't in danger of falling off. Much. "These people are amazing," she said. "It is never easy opening yourself up to strangers--even if they did save your lives--when for the most part, you rely simply on yourself and your community. It reminds me of home, actually. Different in lots of ways but, beyond that, good people."
Chewing on chicken, Amanda leaned against Wanda. "They took me in, back when Tante brought me here. Had to 'cause of her, but it didn't matter - they still made me feel welcome. I caught up with Louis before - he used to be my old boss, at the bar I was working at. 'M glad nothing happened to him."
"So am I." Wanda leaned her cheek on the top of Amanda's head as she gazed into the crowd. They were all dancing and celebrating the fact that they were alive. Tomorrow would bring with it worries about what damage the storm did do and what the future would bring but right now it was about being alive. "Look at them all. Amazing, isn't it, that we helped to bring them to this point?"
"Fucking brilliant. 'S funny, we don't get to see the result of what we do that often. We can't - we're in, we do the job, we're off on our toes before anyone can catch us. But seeing this..." Amanda gestured with the chicken leg, encompassing the crowd. "Makes the risk worth it. Makes the job worth it." The grin was growing a little misty.
"We face a lot of dark stuff in our line of work," Wanda agreed. "I am hoping that this is what we carry with us when we do what we have to do." She bit into a biscuit and snickered when she had to brush crumbs out of Amanda's hair.
Considering the dried mud that covered Amanda's clothes and hair still, crumbs weren't so bad. "That and enough Cajun food to open our own bloody restaurant?" she suggested.
There was a pause and then Wanda started to laugh. "Doug would be as round as a house, can you imagine?"
"We could roll him at people on missions. Change his code name to Bowling Ball Boy or something..." Amanda started to giggle, definitely on the loopy side of things now. "Like that big rock in the Indiana Jones movie..."
As the mental image of Doug rolling head over heels towards their enemies flashed through Wanda's brain, something cheerfully snapped and she started laughing even more hysterically. She couldn't do much but hold onto Amanda because if she let go she was certain to fall over.
Wanda's laughter encouraged Amanda's own, the girl giggling helplessly and clutching back at Wanda to stop falling off the bench herself. It wasn't long before one, then another, then another of Tante's people joined in, laughing for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so.
***
"Ow! Ow. Ow ow, stop that! Tender flesh!" Wanda struggled away from Doug in a half-hearted attempt, the edge of the table digging into her back as she leaned backwards against it. She batted at his hands but it didn't do much good, he was determined. And considering the fact that he pretty much had ambushed her she was assuming he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. "It is covered, it's fine!"
"No, it is -not- fine," Doug corrected Wanda. "A cut that big is not made fine by a single band aid. Now hold still, you big baby," he instructed, lifting a borrowed bottle of rubbing alcohol and gently disinfecting the wound.
The sulk was a product of the long days she told herself. The rubbing alcohol stung and she forced herself to breath and not twitch. Much. Despite the fact that she knew Doug wouldn't even accidentally spill any, she still kept that one eye closed. "It would have been fine," she insisted. "Though...who really knows what was on the ground that my head had an intimate meeting with. Ew."
"Exactly." Taping a more heavy-duty bandage to the wound, Doug leaned back and examined his work. Deciding it would do, he handed the rubbing alcohol back to the bartender who'd produced it on request. The bottle disappeared through that sort of minor prestidigitation that all bartenders seemed to know, and was replaced with a bottle of a different sort of alcohol, though medicinal in its own way. The aged cork and faded label proclaimed it "the good stuff", and a trio of shot glasses were filled. The bartender nodded and tossed back his shot before leaving Doug and Wanda to theirs. "Nazdrovye," Doug saluted Wanda with his glass.
In return, she tilted hers back at him in a jaunty fashion before following the bartender's example and tossing back her drink. It was a good, slow burn, the kind that trickled down the throat and into the chest. It was a very welcomed fire. Wanda touched the bandage before dropping her hand back to the counter. "Thank you for that, even if I was being a giant baby about it," she said. "Nothing quite says friendship like pinning someone down to do something they've been ignoring."
"All's well that ends well," Doug quoted, leaning back against the bar. Things had seemed dark during the past several days, but they'd all weathered the storm, and for that he was very grateful.
***
It was the end of a long party, and not surprisingly, Tante and Remy found themselves sitting across from each other. She had been drinking from a truly vile jug of corn whiskey, which Remy had avoided. He'd eaten a little, smoked too much, and right now, the idea of food was painful to him. Tante wiped her mouth with an obscenely pleased expression and regarded him levelly.
"Jah have questions."
"Of course. You knew dat I wasn't Sebastian D'Armade."
"Jah were enough of him when it mattered, Remy. De truth is a rare thing, and best looked at through a viewpoint. Sebastian D'Armade stopped a lot of death, just like jah X-Force stopped more den Wisdom and Maximoff willing to admit."
"You expected me to die."
"Oui"
"Thank you."
Tante's slap nearly knocked from from his chair. "Jah listen t' me, Remy LeBeau. De life of Gambit was forfiet de day jah walked into New Orleans. But de Baron never danced wit' a man wit'out taking de life, and he did wit' you. Or did he take a life dat jah had no use for? Dat, Tante don' know. De important thing is dat jah now alive, and wit' no excuses for wishing other. Dat femme of jah went into de storm for you. Now jah got something to be worth of. You let her down, jah hear from me."
Remy rubbed his jaw and nodded. "So what's next?"
"A long rest." Tante said. "Once things settle down, Tante passing along her place to another, just as Pape Joe Gris-Gris did to me so long 'go. Dat's de way of things, Remy. De future has to one day become de past, and for Tante, dis is de day."
"I--" Remy stopped. "It won't seem right wit'out you here."
"Non, Remy. It just seem new is all." Tante Mattie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Jah got a life dat no one else been given. Jah use it, Remy, or jah find Tante not as retired as jah think."
"I will."
"Bein. You make Tante being proud of you wrong, I take offense." She said, and ignored his shocked expression. "Jah go find dat woman, make her dance. She find out soon 'nough who she is, powers or no. Take 'manda on de floor, and Marie-Ange. Make dat Doug and Mark eat some. Why you people end up so skinny? Tonight 'bout life, Remy, and for de first time, jah got a place in it. Don' waste it.
Communities don't operate under official communications. There is an organic way in which knowledge gets passed from person to person, which isn't directly attributable to any one of them. It exists like a pulse going through the streets, rippling across the groups, and provided knowledge in an immersive fashion. It was as if one minute they were unaware, and the next, completely informed. That was the situation in the Lower Ninth Ward.
Hundreds of thousands of people had slowly emerged from their houses and shelters, looking up at the sky which had no longer held the roiling clouds. The ominous skys and threat of destruction had been replaced with a misting rain and even the hint of sun. The word on the street slowly trickled through, jumping from group to group like an electric spark. The information was simple; a few hours ago, the knowledge was that death was coming for them. Now the information was that death had been twarted, and that it had been because of a group of people from out of town, who had some how made it happen.
The haunted feeling had been replaced with a sense of unbridled joy. The streets filled with people, and a party-like atmosphere began. New Orleans had always been on the knife edge between a party and a riot, and this time, the party seemed to be winning out.
***
Amanda looked doubtfully at Tante, but after the events of the previous night, who was she to argue with the impossible-sounding? Pulling her cell out, she made the call, waiting for Illyana to pick up.
"What?" The usual edge in Illyana's voice had sharpened; in the background, the sound of machines continued a slow, steady rhythm. As though she'd briefly considered the reasons for a call like this, she added flatly, "She can't breathe on her own, so she probably won't be able to hear any tearful goodbyes. Just saying."
"No goodbyes, least not today." Amanda glanced over at Tante, who nodded at her. "Actually, you're invited to a bit of a party. Both of you."
"Oh," Illyana said, a touch wearily, "Is that it? A party? Okay. Call Sofia; you're crazy."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "'Yana," she said, a little more firmly. "Just 'port you and Angie down here, all right? You both need to be in New Orleans."
Illyana seemed to take a moment to inhale - or simply to count to ten. "First of all," she said, "first of all, I can't. And secondly, even if I could without getting us both stranded someplace, it wouldn't help, because whatever you' ve.got cooked up, we're still two or three hours away. So unless there's a reason why you think reality has changed since ten minutes ago. . . " She trailed off. She didn't even particularly like Marie-Ange, but this wasn't exactly her idea of fun. In general.
Amanda looked over at Tante, a little helplessly. "She's being stubborn. She can't 'port passengers and there's a couple of hours' lag between her leaving there and turning up here."
"Tante imagine dats likely de case normally." Tante Mattie nodded, with that same serene impenetrability as always. "Since I said so, ja tell de childe dat she needs to trust in what ja saying."
With a small nod, Amanda spoke into the phone again. "'Yana, I know. It sounds completely balmy. But I'm gunna have to ask you to trust me on this one and just try, yeah?" Her left palm itched, and she switched the phone to her other hand, looking at the scar on her palm before rubbing the itchy place on her jeans leg in an effort to relieve it. "Everything's gunna be all right, you just have to trust me." Her grin came through her voice with the next. "'Sides, this is magic, yeah? Since when has it stuck to any of the rules? They're mostly just guidelines, any way."
"Oh, for the love of God, let's just agree that I'm going to do what you're saying because you went to Africa for me, and leave the rest of that trust-me woo-woo crap for a very distant future, okay? If she dies, it's your fault, that's all. I'm not taking responsibility. Also, I'm not talking to that creepy old lady."
"You're not gunna be responsible for anything, 'Yana. This one's on me." Amanda gave Tante a quick nod to let her know Illyana had agreed. "Give us a sec and I'll let you know on the count of three."
"Creepy old lady?" Tante said, somehow knowing what Illyana was saying. Her smile was broad and white. "Dat's something dat de childe is 'bout to learn how right she is. Now, reach out to Marie-Ange, childe. Dere's a link between jah. Find it."
Oh, Illyana was going to love Tante... Suppressing her grin, Amanda concentrated on the task at hand. It wasn't easy, picturing Marie-Ange as she'd been the last time Amanda had seen her still and silent in the hospital bed, dwarfed by the machines keeping her alive, and that image sobered her quickly despite the natural high of the people around them. Closing her eyes, she focussed harder, remembering that moment of darkness after healing Alison. Feeling those threads pulling her back. One of the strongest of those had been Marie-Ange - it was just a matter of finding it. After a long moment, she spoke: "I think I've got it."
Tante didn't say a word, instead simply gesturing slightly and closed her eyes. New Orleans was Tante's place of power. Nothing in the mystic life of the city was separated from her, and now, as if a dam was opened, the energy of millions suddenly spilled over into Amanda's power. Desperately harnessing the torrent of energy, it was a simple thing to plug it to that thread, and watch it grow ebullient with power. It bucked and flared and fatly transmitted life over thousands of miles back to Illyana and Marie-Ange.
The itching of her palm flared into a fully-fledged tug as the power of New Orleans hit Amanda's mutant senses. No, it was more than just the city, as intoxicating as that was. It was the energy of everyone around them, rescuers and rescued all in one. Amanda knew better than to argue - this was a gift, and she knew exactly who it was for. "'Yana, count of three," she said distantly. "One, two..."
Under the machine noises and hushed footsteps and voices pitched so as not to disturb the patients, distant voices streamed in, songs and catcalls and whistles shouted and yet somehow still a whisper, barely carrying past where Marie-Ange lay and Illyana stood.
The voices rose around the girls, and the medicinal air took on the smell of sweat, and thick swampy humidity and alcohol and salt and spicy creole food.
Outside the room, the smells and sounds drifted out to a passing nurse, who stopped in her rounds to investigate the disruption.
As she opened the door to the room, Illyana grasped Marie-Ange's limp hand and opened a portal. After all, if Amanda's insane little plan didn't work, all that would happen is that whoever was opening the door would find an empty room with screaming machines and a missing occupant.
The passage of time between St. Vincent's and New Orleans was only long enough to be measured in two steady slow breaths, Illyana's exhalation of relief (not that she would admit it, ever) when Marie-Ange's hand tightened on hers, and Marie-Ange's deep intake of air.
Arrival was the definition of graceless, as Illyana was pulled down by Marie-Ange landing on the floor in a tangle of hoses and IV lines and sheets. The bed, ventilator and IV stand had not been teleported with her, but the equipment attached to her had.
Oh, this was just great. Teleportation: Now with bruises and extraneous human contact. Illyana began to hastily disentangle herself from the pile of wires and fabric, shooting Amanda a baleful glare.
Marie-Ange wasn't even fully conscious, but she knew something was in her nose and throat and it was uncomfortable and she wanted it out -now-. Still wrapped in the bedsheet she yanked at the tube coming out of her nose, gagging as she pulled it out.
It took three tries before she got it out, and she reached up blindly, grabbing the nearest thing she could to steady herself, and then opening her eyes to look up at Amanda and Tante and Illyana.
Illyana looked sideways at Amanda, and finally exhaled irritably. "You couldn't get the stupid tubes out of her face while you were at this, whatever the hell is going on here? I mean, that's just disgusting."
For her part, Amanda was barely keeping herself upright, only the city's mood bouying her flagging energy levels. "Didn't really have time for the fine details," she told Illyana, but nothing could keep the joy from her voice as she moved to wrap the wobbly Marie-Ange in a tight hug. It seemed entirely likely both girls would wind up on the ground again from mutual unsteadiness. "Sight for sore eyes, roomie."
Marie-Ange coughed a few more times, leaning heavily against Amanda,and then peered down into the sheet wrapped around her. "Could I please get some clothes? I think I would rather celebrate whatever miracle you have worked without showing myself in just a bedsheet." A quick glance around confirmed the theory she'd developed in the second between arrival and full consciousness. "It is not Mardi Gras, and I do not need any beaded necklaces."
"Oh, I think we can manage something." Amanda kept her arm wrapped around Marie-Ange's waist, for support, to support and just to satisfy herself the other girl was actually there and in one piece. "Let's go find Janelle." Her grin turned wicked. "'Yana, this is Tante. She gave you the power to get you both here and she's more scary than you are in your wildest dreams. Have fun!" And with that, she began leading Marie-Ange to where Tante's girls were waiting.
***
Doug pushed his jambalaya around the plate and did his best to look appreciative. The New Orleans natives were showing their gratitude to the mutants who had saved them from Belladonna's mad plan, but he kept worrying about Marie-Ange. The people who had given him just enough time to change into dryer clothes before hauling him down to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant had reassured him that "Tante got it under control", but all he could see was Marie-Ange unconscious in a hospital bed. Upon hearing that Doug was "dat white boy who eat Tante's extra-hot gumbo", the proprietor of the restaurant had rubbed his hands together and hollered back to the kitchen to break out the good stuff. And the jambalaya was really good, Doug had to admit. It was just that his mind wasn't on his appetite.
As he poked at a piece of shrimp with his fork, his cell phone buzzed twice in his pocket, startling him nearly upright. As he sat back down, he pulled his phone out to see who was texting him. The number was from a New Orleans phone number, and the text merely said, "Go outside and look up." Confused, Doug slid his bowl away from him and stood, wandering slowly out the front door. His glanced up at the balcony of the small but comfortable looking hotel across the street, then his eyes widened as his brain caught up with the input it was receiving.
In addition to the clothes she'd asked for upon arrival, Marie-Ange had managed to get a place to take a hot shower and wash her hair, and then had been beset upon by Tante's girls' best efforts to put 'some meat on her bones'. Which thankfully hadn't involved eating anything painful, and had mostly been soup and bread and a lot of tea that smelled suspiciously like one of Amanda's old potions. It had done a lot to settle her stomach and soothe the sore throat she'd gotten from removing the ventilator tubes.
She'd gone out on the tiny balcony to get some idea of where she was, so she could give directions when she'd seen the blond hair and familiar-looking Colorado Rockies T-shirt in the window of a restaurant across the street. ~Of course.~ She'd thought, there was almost no such thing as a coincidence where Tante was concerned.
Doug had much the same thought running through his head, as the secretive smiles of the people who had dragged him to the restaurant suddenly made more sense. He couldn't really blame them, though. He liked a happy ending just as much as the next person. He dashed across the street, into the hotel, past the grinning desk clerk, up a flight of stairs, and down to a room whose door was already open. Gathering Marie-Ange into his arms, he swung her up and around in sheer giddy joy before setting her down to kiss her tenderly.
"I am told all of you have saved the city.." Marie-Ange said with a smile, once she -could- speak. "It was all anyone could tell me about once I arrived." She paused, and grinned. "After Amanda stopped trying to hug me to pieces. Although I cannot really blame her, no?"
Doug had been too busy hugging her to pieces himself to initially respond to her greeting, and even when he loosened his grip so they could both speak, he was loath to let go completely, and his arms stayed wrapped around her waist. "We all did what we could, and luckily it was enough." There was no false modesty in Doug's statement, as their success had owed to a healthy amount of luck and assistance from others.
"All you could and more..." Marie-Ange whispered, resting her head against Doug's chest. She'd been given the full report once she'd been aware enough to make sense of it. "I am told there is a celebration..." She said, changing the subject. "Perhaps we should go down and join it?"
A quip about staying in and having their own private celebration stalled on Doug's lips as he took in how tired and drawn-looking Marie-Ange was. If she had wanted to stay and have celebratory sex, she wouldn't have suggested going and joining the larger celebration. And he could wait, anyway, now that she'd been returned to him. "Sure," he said, clasping one of her hands in his. "I bet the place across the street hasn't even cleared away my jambalaya yet..."
***
The party atmosphere in New Orleans was a fluid thing, the members of X-Force being drawn apart and together by the throng of celebrants, almost by some design. Doug's meeting up with Marie-Ange strained the bounds of happenstance. The reunion had him in too good of a mood to question things, though, so when he and Marie-Ange were parted by the crowd, he knew they would meet back up. And as the redheaded French woman was spun out of his arms, a blonde Brit was spun into them and he grinned.
"Doug!" Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, one part hug and one part holding herself up - after the magic that had passed through her in the last twelve hours, she was not altogether stable on her feet. For all that, she was practically giddy with joy. "You're okay! Did you see Angie? She's all fixed!"
"I've seen her," Doug acknowledged, his expression free of any sort of tension or worry for the first time in days. He picked Amanda up off her feet and hugged her until her ribs creaked. "Do I have you to thank for my little miracle?" His voice roughened a bit despite the wide grin, a hint of the whirlwind of emotion he'd felt in the past hour or so.
"Oof!" The breath was squeezed out of her, but Amanda hugged him back just as tightly. "Bit of a joint effort. Me, Tante, 'Yana and pretty much everyone here. Oh, and New Orleans too. Sort of a thank you present from the city for saving it." It was a bit of a jumble, but Amanda knew Doug would work it out.
Between their long friendship and the brief time they had been even closer, it was easy for Doug to get the gist of what Amanda meant. "Thank you," he said simply, knowing she would understand all the things left unsaid in his voice.
"You're welcome." Her own response was just as brief, but told him she knew exactly what he meant. She hugged him again, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Couldn't leave her like that, and Tante let me use her power." Her grin turned a little loopy again. "Still is, actually. 'S why I'm not flat on my arse right now."
"I noticed," Doug told her wryly. She was only not flat on her arse by the barest bit, but he kept a solid hold. He wouldn't let her fall, not after all she'd done for him.
***
Snow Valley tended to act like an extended family a lot of times. Squabbles, teasing but most importantly, the spread of gossip. And news. Wanda had been told of Marie-Ange and Illyana's teleporting, and the healing, just a few minutes ago and now she was pushing her way through the crowd as fast as she could without knocking anyone over.
Doug's manner of weaving through a crowd like it was a maze to be solved and Wanda's method of parting it like Moses and the Red Sea were entirely so different that they came around the other side and ended up being equally effective. Marie-Ange had just stepped outside to catch a breath of air and saw what was unmistakably Wanda heading her way. She stood up from the step and waved her arm at the older woman. "Wanda! Je suis ici! I am over here!"
Seeing Marie-Ange up and around brought a smile so wide to Wanda's face that it actually hurt. Ignoring the slick streets, she sped up enough to clear the space between them in just a few steps. And as the bass of the music surrounding them thrummed through her chest, she reached out and tugged Marie-Ange against her, laughing as she started them into an impromptu dance. "Oh, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes," she said, voice thick with emotion.
It didn't matter that she was in a pair of jeans that were a size and a half too big with her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of her face and in a pair of sandals that were best left shoved under a bed. Marie-Ange hadn't even noticed the state of her clothes until after Doug had found her, and for once - she didn't care either. "Everyone is twirling me around tonight!" Marie-Ange proclaimed happily, spinning under Wanda's arm. "I rather like it!"
"I am surprised they actually let you go!" Despite Wanda's exhaustion--the energy from the crowd was buoying her up and she was determined to ride that as far as she could--and water that squelched under their feet, their dancing was good enough to attract some attention. Hands clapping to the beat gave them something else to dance along to and Wanda couldn't help laughing again as she brought Marie-Ange back around from the last spin. "How are you feeling?"
"I was not sure Amanda or Doug were going to!" Another twirl, if a touch unsteady, and Marie-Ange giggled. "If I was not having such a good time, I would be quite tired." She said. "And if I was not being fed every time I turned around." She'd finally braved solid food that wasn't bread earlier, although certainly not Doug's sort of food.
She snorted in amusement. "This crowd? Food, never. I swear this one person nearly shoved a muffin in my mouth, despite the fact that I had already had two! And I think if you weren't exhausted, holding it off or no, I might be more worried. After everything, I think you deserve a few days at home sleeping in your own bed."
"Oh no! No more sleeping!" Marie-Ange protested. "I think I have had more than my share of sleep. I am not going to a bed until I am too exhausted to stand upright." Despite not remembering any of her time recovering from surgery, she had no intention of returning to that state anytime soon. "Or I suppose, no time in a bed for sleep. I imagine Doug may have ideas.." She grinned cheekily.
"Careful of my virgin ears," Wanda said, mock-sniffing in disdain. "You lot might just corrupt me one of these days." She winked and then turned suddenly, dipping Marie-Ange as low as she could without dragging her hair on the street. The crowd was delighted and Wanda grinned down at her. "Though you should thank Amanda since now you and Doug will have plenty of time for...ideas."
Marie-Ange finally righted herself, letting Wanda pull her up and into another hug. "Amanda was there when I arrived. If I thank her as much as I think she deserves, she would be stuck listening to me and not be able to enjoy the party." The hug was spun out into another twirl, and had both women not been tired and a little wobbly, what could've been a lift. As it was, Marie-Ange slid under Wanda's arm with a little flourish.
After they both got their footing back, Wanda slide an arm around Marie-Ange's shoulders and squeezed her gently. "You know, we are very good at this. You, fresh from the hospital, me fresh from fighting assassins with bombs and we still manage to dance like stars. We, my dear, have talent."
"We should do this more often." Marie-Ange agreed. "But perhaps when we are not exhausted the next time." She hugged back, and then gestured back inside towards where she thought Doug was. "Only with men. Or at least, dates. Because while I like you very much, I would much rather dance with Doug." She thought for a moment. "You could ask Kurt! Amanda says he needs to get out and do more..."
"You know, that's a very good idea. He and I were hitting the dance circuit for a while, right before I was possessed. He is very, very good." Wanda thought about it and realized they could all do with some time out that didn't involve violence. "But for now, let us see if we can find our wayward coworkers." Her tone turned teasing and innocent as they started for the doors. "Now, I think drinks are called for but, really, you have just been in the hospital so I will throw myself upon your share."
***
It was surprisingly easy to find Amanda in the crowds, in part because of Wanda's height but also because where ever a Snow Valley person was, they had a ring of people around them. The older woman whistled at Amanda and held up some food that people had shoved into her arms. It was, she decided, one of the best ways of saying thank you.
Amanda looked up as Wanda approached the bench she was sitting on, giving her a tired, slightly loopy grin. "Hey, Boss Lady!" she said with a wave - there was a bottle of bourbon in it, a third of the way down. "They showing you a good time?"
"Are they ever," she responded, pausing as an older lady came up and gestured for her to lean over so that she could kiss Wanda on the cheek. Wanda grinned afterwards and finished making her way to Amanda. "Food? And the answer should be yes because I cannot actually feel my arms under this load."
"More food? Just as well I could eat a horse." The witch unslung her arm from around the shoulders of a happily-grinning young man, handing him the bottle. "Cheers, mate." As he gave her a friendly slap on the back and wandered off into the crowd, Amanda leaned against Wanda, grabbing a fried chicken leg from the container at the top of the pile in Wanda's arms. "This is fucking amazing. Yesterday we were all gunna die. Today? We're heroes. Like the X-Men and all."
Stretching her legs out in front of her, Wanda shifted the food around so it wasn't in danger of falling off. Much. "These people are amazing," she said. "It is never easy opening yourself up to strangers--even if they did save your lives--when for the most part, you rely simply on yourself and your community. It reminds me of home, actually. Different in lots of ways but, beyond that, good people."
Chewing on chicken, Amanda leaned against Wanda. "They took me in, back when Tante brought me here. Had to 'cause of her, but it didn't matter - they still made me feel welcome. I caught up with Louis before - he used to be my old boss, at the bar I was working at. 'M glad nothing happened to him."
"So am I." Wanda leaned her cheek on the top of Amanda's head as she gazed into the crowd. They were all dancing and celebrating the fact that they were alive. Tomorrow would bring with it worries about what damage the storm did do and what the future would bring but right now it was about being alive. "Look at them all. Amazing, isn't it, that we helped to bring them to this point?"
"Fucking brilliant. 'S funny, we don't get to see the result of what we do that often. We can't - we're in, we do the job, we're off on our toes before anyone can catch us. But seeing this..." Amanda gestured with the chicken leg, encompassing the crowd. "Makes the risk worth it. Makes the job worth it." The grin was growing a little misty.
"We face a lot of dark stuff in our line of work," Wanda agreed. "I am hoping that this is what we carry with us when we do what we have to do." She bit into a biscuit and snickered when she had to brush crumbs out of Amanda's hair.
Considering the dried mud that covered Amanda's clothes and hair still, crumbs weren't so bad. "That and enough Cajun food to open our own bloody restaurant?" she suggested.
There was a pause and then Wanda started to laugh. "Doug would be as round as a house, can you imagine?"
"We could roll him at people on missions. Change his code name to Bowling Ball Boy or something..." Amanda started to giggle, definitely on the loopy side of things now. "Like that big rock in the Indiana Jones movie..."
As the mental image of Doug rolling head over heels towards their enemies flashed through Wanda's brain, something cheerfully snapped and she started laughing even more hysterically. She couldn't do much but hold onto Amanda because if she let go she was certain to fall over.
Wanda's laughter encouraged Amanda's own, the girl giggling helplessly and clutching back at Wanda to stop falling off the bench herself. It wasn't long before one, then another, then another of Tante's people joined in, laughing for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so.
***
"Ow! Ow. Ow ow, stop that! Tender flesh!" Wanda struggled away from Doug in a half-hearted attempt, the edge of the table digging into her back as she leaned backwards against it. She batted at his hands but it didn't do much good, he was determined. And considering the fact that he pretty much had ambushed her she was assuming he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. "It is covered, it's fine!"
"No, it is -not- fine," Doug corrected Wanda. "A cut that big is not made fine by a single band aid. Now hold still, you big baby," he instructed, lifting a borrowed bottle of rubbing alcohol and gently disinfecting the wound.
The sulk was a product of the long days she told herself. The rubbing alcohol stung and she forced herself to breath and not twitch. Much. Despite the fact that she knew Doug wouldn't even accidentally spill any, she still kept that one eye closed. "It would have been fine," she insisted. "Though...who really knows what was on the ground that my head had an intimate meeting with. Ew."
"Exactly." Taping a more heavy-duty bandage to the wound, Doug leaned back and examined his work. Deciding it would do, he handed the rubbing alcohol back to the bartender who'd produced it on request. The bottle disappeared through that sort of minor prestidigitation that all bartenders seemed to know, and was replaced with a bottle of a different sort of alcohol, though medicinal in its own way. The aged cork and faded label proclaimed it "the good stuff", and a trio of shot glasses were filled. The bartender nodded and tossed back his shot before leaving Doug and Wanda to theirs. "Nazdrovye," Doug saluted Wanda with his glass.
In return, she tilted hers back at him in a jaunty fashion before following the bartender's example and tossing back her drink. It was a good, slow burn, the kind that trickled down the throat and into the chest. It was a very welcomed fire. Wanda touched the bandage before dropping her hand back to the counter. "Thank you for that, even if I was being a giant baby about it," she said. "Nothing quite says friendship like pinning someone down to do something they've been ignoring."
"All's well that ends well," Doug quoted, leaning back against the bar. Things had seemed dark during the past several days, but they'd all weathered the storm, and for that he was very grateful.
***
It was the end of a long party, and not surprisingly, Tante and Remy found themselves sitting across from each other. She had been drinking from a truly vile jug of corn whiskey, which Remy had avoided. He'd eaten a little, smoked too much, and right now, the idea of food was painful to him. Tante wiped her mouth with an obscenely pleased expression and regarded him levelly.
"Jah have questions."
"Of course. You knew dat I wasn't Sebastian D'Armade."
"Jah were enough of him when it mattered, Remy. De truth is a rare thing, and best looked at through a viewpoint. Sebastian D'Armade stopped a lot of death, just like jah X-Force stopped more den Wisdom and Maximoff willing to admit."
"You expected me to die."
"Oui"
"Thank you."
Tante's slap nearly knocked from from his chair. "Jah listen t' me, Remy LeBeau. De life of Gambit was forfiet de day jah walked into New Orleans. But de Baron never danced wit' a man wit'out taking de life, and he did wit' you. Or did he take a life dat jah had no use for? Dat, Tante don' know. De important thing is dat jah now alive, and wit' no excuses for wishing other. Dat femme of jah went into de storm for you. Now jah got something to be worth of. You let her down, jah hear from me."
Remy rubbed his jaw and nodded. "So what's next?"
"A long rest." Tante said. "Once things settle down, Tante passing along her place to another, just as Pape Joe Gris-Gris did to me so long 'go. Dat's de way of things, Remy. De future has to one day become de past, and for Tante, dis is de day."
"I--" Remy stopped. "It won't seem right wit'out you here."
"Non, Remy. It just seem new is all." Tante Mattie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Jah got a life dat no one else been given. Jah use it, Remy, or jah find Tante not as retired as jah think."
"I will."
"Bein. You make Tante being proud of you wrong, I take offense." She said, and ignored his shocked expression. "Jah go find dat woman, make her dance. She find out soon 'nough who she is, powers or no. Take 'manda on de floor, and Marie-Ange. Make dat Doug and Mark eat some. Why you people end up so skinny? Tonight 'bout life, Remy, and for de first time, jah got a place in it. Don' waste it.
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