xp_logs | Doug and Remy

Doug drops off the day's information dump to Remy, and then has a question to ask of him.

Sometimes Doug forgot what a voracious reader Remy was, he mused as he walked into the Cajun's office, a folder under one arm and a mug of hot chocolate in his free hand. Remy's morning routine involved numerous well-known newspapers from around the world, and he could usually be found in his office fairly early getting started on it. Doug dropped the folder on an empty corner of the desk and filched the comics section of the London Times out of the trash pile, browsing until Remy finished whatever article he was reading. "Morning electronic info dump," he said, nodding at the folder. "Nothing stood out to me, but judge for yourself."

"Hmm." Remy half-hummed, half-grunted, tossing another newspaper festooned with post-its on to the pile and picking up the slush pile. Doug pulled the tabloid duty for the office, going through hundreds of low quality papers, ranging from the semi-serious like the Daily News to the ridiculous level of the Inquirer. He flipped through a few UFO sightings, some calls for immegration controls using heavy machineguns and at least three photos of vegetables humourously shaped like genitalia before tossing the file back.

"Looks like de usual merde."

"That's what I was thinking, but you're the boss," Doug noted. "I was especially intrigued by the sex-changed luchador nun, personally." Keeping a sense of humor was almost mandatory given the amount of dreck that he had to wade through to find the occasional lead. But those leads, and setting things right, was worth the slight annoyance factor.

"Santa Maria, oui. Her name was originally Hector Alonzo. Former Light Infantry sergeant out of Texas. Bronze star winner in de Gulf War. Still passes along information to de CIA." Remy looked up. "What? How do you think she got de money for de operation in de first place?"

It was a measure of how accepting of the truly strange things he dealt with on a daily basis that Doug's only reaction to what Remy said was a long assessing pause and blink. Not that he was becoming blase, because as Remy was fond of reminding them all, being blase could get you killed. But it was getting harder and harder to truly shock Doug anymore. "Note to self, keep her in the files," Doug said, taking the relevant article out of the pile and making a note in the margin.

"Looks like de space laser hasn't gotten out yet. Wonder if dat's going to remain de case?" Remy tossed over a couple of files stuffed with printouts from some of the other staff. "If it wasn't for 'yana, Remy almost tempted to leak dat information himself. Right places, and not only would it weaken Vazhin considerably, but tracking de transmission of dat information would give us a lot of clues on other networks. Shame dat we're playing nice today."

Not entirely sure how to react to Remy's statement, Doug settled for sitting back in his chair and staying quiet. While he didn't have a firm bond of friendship with Illyana, the fact that she was a contributing member of the team weighed in her favor, and you didn't do anything to put them in a tough position. Even if putting Vazhin in a sticky situation of his own did sound appealing.

Remy finally waved at the stack. "Dat's it for dis morning. Get 'yana filing dis, tag all de relevent parts for electronic followup. I want to expand our Pacific Rim coverage into de smaller locals. Dere's a couple contacts in Hong Kong dat can set you up. Dere's something brewing over dere, and de larger media doesn't get de complexity."

Doug shuffled all the papers together as he stood. He turned for the door to leave, then turned back to Remy. He bit his lip nervously, almost hard enough to draw blood, a tic that hadn't seen use in quite some time. But then, he hadn't been this nervous in quite some time, either. "Uh, Remy?" he asked hesitantly. "Could I ask you something?"

Remy didn't even look up from his papers. Why couldn't they get decent coverage out of Singapore any more? "Oui. What do you need?"

"I want you to teach me." Doug took a breath as Remy gave him the neutral look that said 'go on'. "I mean, besides the combat stuff we've done. I want to learn how to," he waved a hand as he tried to put his thoughts into words, "how to disappear in a crowd. How to look like just another guy, no matter where I am. I...think I could be good at it. I already speak any language I could need to, and with some exposure I can sound just like a native, but I need to learn the other part." He struggled with the impulse to fidget nervously as he waited for Remy's reply.

Remy paused, looking from Doug's face to his papers and back. "Doug, de kind of independent field work dat you talking 'bout is very dangerous. It requires a certain kind of mindset and attitude to be successful at. It also requires a certain level of moral flexibility dat being part of de team or working in computer hacking and analysis for us doesn't."

"I know that." Remy thought he couldn't do it. Somehow, the thought that Remy didn't have faith in him caused Doug's nervousness and hesitation to evaporate. "I'm never going to be a heavy hitter like you, or Pete, or even Angie. But that independent field work is just as important. Maybe more so. And I have an advantage there that the rest of you don't. I just need the training to make best use of it." He shrugged. "And is it really that much more dangerous than getting shot at in Africa, or getting buttstroked by paranoid Iraqis, or taking on trained mercenaries that were ready to blow up the levees in New Orleans? I think that the stuff we do is vital. And I want to do more."

"It's not as simple as dat, Doug." Remy leaned back with a sigh, and waved Doug back to one of the chairs. "Look, Remy said some pretty harsh things to you a few months ago. And I'm sorry 'bout dat, because it weren't anything more den de closest target to hurt at de time. But not all of de things dat I said were necessarily wrong."

He paused, stopping long enough to sip from his mug while he considered what he was going to say. "De problem, Doug, is dat you're a fundamentally decent person. You wouldn't look out of place wit' de X-Men, and I know dat you've had some concerns 'bout what we do and how we do it. You right. It's vital. In it's own way, so's what de X-Men do. De thing is dat up until now, you've had easy choices; I know you were ready to kill in New Orleans. Dey shot you girlfriend. Wit' Candra, dey had 'manda. Africa was 'yana's life. Dose kinds of decisions are easy, especially when you a decent person who has already tried to sacrifice yourself for 'nother."

"But," Remy held up a finger. "Dat's not what dis is, Doug. Right now, you can leave. You can go back and be a hero or have a real life. If you choose to walk dis road instead, you can't ever walk 'way from what you'll have to do. It means making contacts knowing dat you going to sacrifice dem later; finding information dat also will destroy de lives of innocent families. It means having to be ready to take a life dat hasn't done anything to you and yours worse den just being in de wrong place at de wrong time. Pete, Betts and I aren't whole people inside, Doug. Dat's a choice we each made at one point or another, because dat sacrifice was worth it. And dat's de choice dat you facing wit' dis."

"You think I haven't figured all of that out?" Doug asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's why I'm here." He shrugged. "It doesn't really have anything to do with the stuff you said back then. You were lashing out, like you said." And Doug had seen how close to the surface Gambit's pathological tendencies had been in Remy. He'd had vague thoughts for how to handle things if it had become an issue, but he was thankful it hadn't come to that, because despite his early distaste for Remy when he'd arrived at the mansion, he now thought of the older man as a valued coworker, maybe even something approaching friendship. "So I'm telling you this is me making that choice right now, deciding that the sacrifice is worth it, to use your words. I know talk is cheap, but for now, that's going to have to be good enough for you."

"Doug, you start dis, and dere's no walking away. No chance of just stopping one day for a normal life. You sure dat you ready to give dat choice up?" Remy said, stressing the point. It wasn't that he didn't believe Doug. In fact, he felt Doug was a fundamentally decent person, who deserved more than the kind of life that their chosen profession led to.

If this had been a movie, Doug would have done something suitably dramatic and pithy, like toss his dog tags on his CO's desk. But this was real life, and not Hollywood, so he had to content himself with a firm serious nod. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Remy shook his head. It was Doug's decision to make, and while the Cajun knew full well that Doug couldn't understand the enormity of it, he also knew that Ramsey wasn't blind or ignorant to at least the basics of what it entailed. It was a decision that most of the younger members of the team were approaching; the only surprise to him was the side that Doug decided he'd landed on.

"I'll talk to Pete later on. He's got more experience fighting wit'out his powers, be best to work up a new training profile for you. Until den, you're going to have to share out some of you research work wit' Illyana and Sarah. You're going to need to be in de field more, and we can't afford to let anything lapse when you not around."

"I can do that," Doug replied with a nod. "I can probably automate the morning electronic information dump as well so that someone can print it out, as well." Mark was probably the most technically savvy in the office after Doug, so he made a mental note to talk with the DJ-cum-receptionist. Besides, this way he'd have something to do other than play Minesweeper during downtime, Doug thought with a smirk.