Operation: Poisoned Honey - Old Enemies
Dec. 24th, 2012 05:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsIn Madrid, calling the number provided by their 'assassin', Remy discovers things are a lot, lot worse than he thought.
And now the other shoe drops, Amanda reflected as she watched Remy punch the numbers into his phone. The others were occupied - North and Wanda with their captive, Doug with making sure they weren't sitting ducks in the inevitable trap - but there was a sense of watchfulness nonetheless. Waiting for the next move, whatever it was.
The phone rang twice before it was finally picked up. There was no greeting, simply a brasque 'is it done?' in Spanish. Doug was running the trace and would have a location, but there was no need to bluff their way through.
"You man failed." Remy said, and the sound of the man on the other end disappeared, as if the phone had been set down.
The voice that spoke next was familiar to him, satisfaction lending her tone the purr of a contented cat. "Remy, what a surpise. I did not expect to be hearing from you."
Sometimes being right was the worst possible outcome. Remy closed his eyes for a moment, centring his thoughts. "Belladonna. Working in Basque country now? Dat's somewhat low rent for you. De Hellfire Club not paying what it used to?" The barb was intended, since Adrienne Frost had manipulated Jason Wyngarde into costing Shaw - and by extension the Black Court - billions in off the book money and investments. He had some of their financial contacts poking around the after effects, and the picture they painted was bleak for Shaw. Anything he didn't own outright had been either seized, or enough of his intricate web of shell companies and middlemen taken that he had no way to re-establish his control.
"Oh, the Club is good enough for a day job," Belladonna said breezily, "but a girl needs her hobbies. And I am so enjoying this latest one. Tell me, cheri, have you enjoyed it as well?"
"A badly botched poisoning under de guise of a Basque hit? Hardly you best work, 'donna. You starting to slip in you old age." He could feel the mental hackles rising, deep in the part of him that Gambit lurked. Belladonna was always good at inspiring that kind of reaction.
"Though I admit there would have been a certain thrill in taking you out unawares I am not upset," she said - a blatant lie, but it was true she didn't sound nearly as angry at her team's failure as he would've expected. "Besides, if I am getting old what does that say about you - pauvre decrepit Remy, unable to save his people... so out of the game that he could not stay hidden from his enemies in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world. Tsk tsk, vieux. It is you who is getting sloppy."
Remy's eyes narrowed. They weren't in one of the largest cities in the world. "You crossing a very dangerous line, 'donna. De Black Court just got itself all kinds of beaten up a few weeks ago. Declaring war while you weak is a bad bluff." Belladonna was always precise with her words, and a lump of dread was starting to form in Remy's gut. The threat was directed at the offices and the brownstone. Trying to keep the upper hand to unbalance them, or more?
"Oh, this is no declaration of war, cher. After all, you and your little team have angered so many, who is to say who might want them dead? And I think you will find I am not so sloppy with all my plans... it will never be traced back to me, as much as I would like to take the credit."
Remy cover the receiver with one hand. "Belladonna's sent a hit team after de rest of de team. It's- about four am dere. Attack will be at de Brownstone. 'Manda, get back dere, now. Doug, get dem on de phone, raise de alarm." There was something ugly in Remy's eyes; a cold sheen that had dropped behind his glare. The red flashed as he put the phone back to his mouth. "Dis is how you want to play it, 'donna? Because if any of dem are hurt, Gambit is coming for you. It doesn't matter how many men you hide behind. It doesn't matter if I need to pull de fucking Hellfire Club down brick by brick. Gambit promise dat you won't be able to remember anything but pain before I'm finished wit' you."
"Funny," purred Belladonna, "that's exactly what I told them to say to that white-haired bitch of a wife of yours before they made her suffer."
And now the other shoe drops, Amanda reflected as she watched Remy punch the numbers into his phone. The others were occupied - North and Wanda with their captive, Doug with making sure they weren't sitting ducks in the inevitable trap - but there was a sense of watchfulness nonetheless. Waiting for the next move, whatever it was.
The phone rang twice before it was finally picked up. There was no greeting, simply a brasque 'is it done?' in Spanish. Doug was running the trace and would have a location, but there was no need to bluff their way through.
"You man failed." Remy said, and the sound of the man on the other end disappeared, as if the phone had been set down.
The voice that spoke next was familiar to him, satisfaction lending her tone the purr of a contented cat. "Remy, what a surpise. I did not expect to be hearing from you."
Sometimes being right was the worst possible outcome. Remy closed his eyes for a moment, centring his thoughts. "Belladonna. Working in Basque country now? Dat's somewhat low rent for you. De Hellfire Club not paying what it used to?" The barb was intended, since Adrienne Frost had manipulated Jason Wyngarde into costing Shaw - and by extension the Black Court - billions in off the book money and investments. He had some of their financial contacts poking around the after effects, and the picture they painted was bleak for Shaw. Anything he didn't own outright had been either seized, or enough of his intricate web of shell companies and middlemen taken that he had no way to re-establish his control.
"Oh, the Club is good enough for a day job," Belladonna said breezily, "but a girl needs her hobbies. And I am so enjoying this latest one. Tell me, cheri, have you enjoyed it as well?"
"A badly botched poisoning under de guise of a Basque hit? Hardly you best work, 'donna. You starting to slip in you old age." He could feel the mental hackles rising, deep in the part of him that Gambit lurked. Belladonna was always good at inspiring that kind of reaction.
"Though I admit there would have been a certain thrill in taking you out unawares I am not upset," she said - a blatant lie, but it was true she didn't sound nearly as angry at her team's failure as he would've expected. "Besides, if I am getting old what does that say about you - pauvre decrepit Remy, unable to save his people... so out of the game that he could not stay hidden from his enemies in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world. Tsk tsk, vieux. It is you who is getting sloppy."
Remy's eyes narrowed. They weren't in one of the largest cities in the world. "You crossing a very dangerous line, 'donna. De Black Court just got itself all kinds of beaten up a few weeks ago. Declaring war while you weak is a bad bluff." Belladonna was always precise with her words, and a lump of dread was starting to form in Remy's gut. The threat was directed at the offices and the brownstone. Trying to keep the upper hand to unbalance them, or more?
"Oh, this is no declaration of war, cher. After all, you and your little team have angered so many, who is to say who might want them dead? And I think you will find I am not so sloppy with all my plans... it will never be traced back to me, as much as I would like to take the credit."
Remy cover the receiver with one hand. "Belladonna's sent a hit team after de rest of de team. It's- about four am dere. Attack will be at de Brownstone. 'Manda, get back dere, now. Doug, get dem on de phone, raise de alarm." There was something ugly in Remy's eyes; a cold sheen that had dropped behind his glare. The red flashed as he put the phone back to his mouth. "Dis is how you want to play it, 'donna? Because if any of dem are hurt, Gambit is coming for you. It doesn't matter how many men you hide behind. It doesn't matter if I need to pull de fucking Hellfire Club down brick by brick. Gambit promise dat you won't be able to remember anything but pain before I'm finished wit' you."
"Funny," purred Belladonna, "that's exactly what I told them to say to that white-haired bitch of a wife of yours before they made her suffer."
