xp_logs | Operation: Poisoned Honey

Following the field team's return, Remy has some words for Cammie. And an utimatium.

The reunion had been quick but relief filled. Despite the obvious damage to the interior of the Brownstone, and the injuries of the occupents, the team of assassins had failed in there task. Artie would need some time in hospital and a hint of paranoia clawed at them, but for the moment, most were just happy that they had come through the otherside intact. Remy had been quiet, asking few questions once he'd seen that Ororo was safe, waiting to speak to people individually. It hadn't taken long, and people had largely moved to other tasks when he opened the door to Cammie's apartment and let himself in wordlessly.

Cammie wouldn't have heard him anyway she had her earbuds in, her iPod cranked up and was beating the shit out of a punching bag. That didn't mean she was completely unaware though. She also saw the door open out of the corner of her eye, but didn't stop hitting the bag, "I have never had more fucking proof that the universe wants me to be completely alone, so if you're going to shank me now'd be the time."

Any response that might have been forth coming was cut off as a card neatly slicing through the bag's chain, and dropped it to the floor at her feet. It was only then that she finally got a look at Remy's expression.

"How could you be so stupid?"

"Very easily, apparently," Cammie said, looking from the bag to the window, "And I don't know, in a city population like New Yorks you generally don't think the guy you're bringing home is going to try to kill everyone who lives in your building. What're the odds, right?"

"Pack you things. I want you out in 24 hours."

"I already started," she snapped. And she had, enough for a day or two. It wouldn't be her first time spending a winter on the street with so little, "Fuck, twenty four hours is generous. I wouldn't give me that long. After all, as fuck ups go, this one's insanely epic."

"Don't fool youself dat dis is de only reason. Everybody fucks up in dis business. But wit' you, dis is another example of you treating de job like its some kind of game. And dis time, people got hurt."

"I wasn't treating the fucking job like a game! I brought a guy home that's normally not considered a bad fucking thing, hell when he went emo and a half Doug had girls over here every night. Where I fucked up is not realizing that hey, maybe this is too good to be true so in the pattern of my life it must be a set up and it was. If I could take back the entire night, I would. It's not a game. I know it's not a fucking game, but I didn't expect to wake up to my date trying to kill everyone," Cammie said, just the sane side of ranting.

"Shut. Up." The harshness in Remy's tone was chilling, even as he faced her down. "You draw attention to youself wit' stupid bar fights and drinking habits in public. Instead of keeping you mouth shut and ears open in de field, you spout off about what should and shouldn't be taken seriously. And in dis case, knowing dat we have powerful enemies who would like nothing better than to see us dead, you run into something too good to be true and it doesn't for a second register to take any kind of precautions? You're careless, Black. You don't seem to recognize how dangerous dat your life has to be to do what we do and dat's a death sentance in dis job."

She sat down, and ran her 'good' hand through her hair, or tried to. Lack of sleep and stress meant it hadn't been brushed and only braided hastily so the hand tangled quickly, "The places I go to unwind you stand out if you don't throw a punch or hit the pits," she pointed out, though she didn't snap, not this time, "And yeah, it crossed my mind that it was too good to be true and I should've just left it there. Fuck, my main concern was he was connected to my birth-bitch somehow. When I figured out that wasn't the case, yeah, I should've thought 'well, maybe it's one of the other millions of people out to get us.' Of course given they drew half of us away I think they were determined to get in here one way or another. Not that it matters now."

"You think any of dat matters to me? Sarah's got ten times de reason to find a place to bust heads on her off days. And she doesn't. And oui, Doug worked his way through a busload of easily impressed girls. Which he made sure weren't a conveinant way for someone hostile to us to get inside. You got sucked in by a honey trap, and you've been damn well trained enough to recognize de potential of it." He shook his head. "At least you should be far along enough to recognize it. If you honestly can't fathom even de basics, you should go back to de mansion. Because you're not going to last in here or out dere very long."

"God damnit, if I'm going to do something, if I was meant to be a fucking weapon the only thing I want is to be pointed in the right goddamn direction!" Cammie returned, "I don't want to go back there, this is what I want to do even if I suck balls at it because it's the only time I've ever felt like I was doing something worth doing!"

"You are not a weapon. Weapons aren't responsible for what is done wit' dem. You are." Remy said, ignoring matching her raised tone. "Claiming dat everything is beyond you control and just happens is you way of making excuses about de things dat you choose to do." He stabbed two fingers into her breastbone, making her take a step back. "Your choices, Black. Until you own dem, you don't have a hope in hell of learning what you need to know."

"Yeah, you're right. And I know this is my fault. I fucked up. But you know what? I still want to be here. I want to try to not be that fuck up! Which admittedly I've been failing at, you don't get an A for Effort, I get that, but damnit..." No, she wasn't going to cry. Not right now.

"Effort is de only thing dat you can control in dis business, Black. And dat's been what's sadly lacking from you." The unsettling chill had receeded a little from Remy's tone, but none of the intensity. "None of us know what de right choice is all de time. Sometimes we get outmatched. Even me. De point is dat you can do everything in you power to limit de risk of dat. Which is what de training is there for. You will fuck things up, you will miss information you need at times, and you will make mistakes. De training limits de number of times you do, and it means dat when it happens, it's not because you were careless or didn't think things through."

Cammie nodded once, "Let me make that effort. I've been trying, and I know I fucked up here and I swear I'll do my damnest to make sure it doesn't happen again but I don't want this to be the fucking end of it!"

"Why should I believe dis time will be any different?"

"Because I'll make it different, I swear it," Cammie said.

Remy gave her a long look; one that cut through her. "One month. Either you can prove to me dat you ready to graduate to de field in one month, or Remy pack you back to de school and you can go you own way from dere." He didn't give her a chance to respond, marching out and slamming the door behind him.