|Crazy Like A Fox
Author: PsychoticSushi PM
Cody's mission's a bit different from the ones he's dealt with thus far in that he's helping a mental ward patient. She's random, crazy, totally insane. But maybe a little insanity's healthy for you. And here comes Remy Wilson with a huge dose of it.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Cody B. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 5,409 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 10 - Updated: 04-09-11 - Published: 02-11-11 - id: 6736118
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Back! With Chapter Deux! ...That's 2 in French.
It's okay to be amazed.
I know, it's pretty impressive.
Welp, that's all I've gotta say. Read, review, ENJOY! :D
Cody walked as quickly as possible through the hospital's halls, trying not to let the maniacal laughter and incoherent babbling register in his mind.
How could anyone want to stay in a place like this? Even if it does offer so much leeway...wouldn't it be better to be out on your own?
Then again, how old was Remy? Could she even be old enough to live on her own anyway? She couldn't be much older than he was...he could've sworn her file said sixteen, but like hell he actually read that thing.
His many past missions had made it clear to him that he did best when he totally winged it – letting facts jotted down with smudgy ink in the CIA's files or in doctor's offices usually just got in the way of him seeing things clearly.
"What room did he say again? It had a 'B'...I think it was either...either...Oh, right. Either 136 or 138 B. Yeah...I think it was 136," he muttered to himself as he approached the door to room 136 B.
And as soon as he opened the door, he deduced that neither the forty-ish-looking man rocking back and forth in the corner nor the twenty-at-best guy in the straightjacket were Remy.
"Hey! Hey mister! Have you seen my spork?" the guy in the straightjacket asked in a surprisingly high voice.
The man in the corner just started laughing a gleeful laugh, clapping his hands. "You remind me of my pet monkey. Back from when I was hunting in the African jungle with Good Ole Teddy. Oscar, your name was. I missed ya so much, Oscar! ...Hehehehe...Oscar...You loved to eat my peanut shells...hehehe..."
Cody smiled and laughed nervously, slowly shutting the door. "...Room 138 B it is."
When he opened the door, he knew it was the right one. How? Because he was greeted by the sight of her standing on one foot and shouting some kind of ninja yell.
"KI-YAAAA! YOUR SPIT IS NO MATCH FOR MY TOEJAM!" she shouted, looking to her left. Cody poked his head in and saw another girl, at least five years older than him and Remy, squatting and holding out her arms.
"...What're you doing?" he asked them with honest curiosity. Remy stiffened before whirling around to look at him. Though he'd been able to see the anxiety and nervousness in the way she reacted to his voice, her expression was one of total comfortablity and lack of interest.
"...Oh. It's you. 'Sup?"
"Nothin' much, just came looking for you."
"That's cool. We're being ninjas."
"Yeah, those guys in black that have sharp swords and pretty stars!" the other girl practically shouted as she twitched a little. She continued to squat with her arms out while staring up at him. "Dontchya know a ninja when you see one? Remy, this intruder be stooooopid!" she exclaimed, laughing as if she'd just told the funniest joke in the world.
Something about the way the girl talked and laughed sounded familiar to him, and it sounded kind of weird, but he just couldn't place it.
Remy looked at the girl, then at him. "...Abby, keep honing your ninja skills. I'll be back in a jiffy, alright?" she said, not looking away from Cody.
"Take the loser with you," she said simply, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she started doing knee-squats. Remy looked at the door pointedly, and he nodded, going out into the hall. Before they'd even left the room, Abby had moved on to jumping-jacks.
Remy shut the door behind them and folded her arms – just like she had in the office – as she scrutinized him some more. He scrutinized her right back.
"...You wanted something?" she snapped, making him jump. And here I thought for sure I was winning...I didn't even blink...!
Yet the way she said it made it quite clear he had lost, so he nodded. "Yeah, I do. I want you. T-To leave the hospital," he added quickly, determined not to let the heat surge up to his face at his bad choice of words.
Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh really. Why?"
"Well, I didn't come here just to have you say no."
"Well, I didn't stay here for a year just to have one of dad's little errand-boys bail me out just like that. I'll work for it, thank you."
"I'm not your dad's little errand-boy."
"...Okay, so you're one of his...big errand-boys?"
He sighed exasperatedly. "This is going nowhere."
"Then why don't you just leave?" she snapped. He narrowed his eyes. "...Maybe I will."
"Good. Don't let the double-doors hit your ass on the way out."
"I'll make sure they don't."
"Awesome. Bye now."
He sighed woefully and shook his head. "You're sure you don't wanna leave? You like this loony bin?"
Judging by the way her eyes flashed for just a split second, that was a bad choice of words.
"...In this hospital, I've met five Abe Lincolns, fourteen Roosevelts, two Marilyn Monroes, and a Henry the Eighth. Abby, my roommate, has slight Down Syndrome along with the Tourette's that got her here. I'm an insomniatic pyromaniac with slight OCD and Multiple-Personality Disorder. Which is basically a lot of fancy names for a teenager who has weird sleeping habits, argues with herself, and likes fire. And has to count certain things and have objects or clothes in certain places. So technically speaking, I don't particularly like it here, because I don't belong here. But you wanna know something, kiddo? I'll bet my right arm that all those Lincolns and Roosevelts and Monroes are about a hundred times more real and kind and genuine than you or anyone else I'll have to deal with as soon as I go out...out there," she concluded hotly, her eyes darting towards a window as if the outside were some totally different world.
It was painfully obvious this would take longer than he thought. Cody sighed heavily before grinning at her. "Well, you're leaving eventually. So I'll just keep asking you until you do. When's that dinner of yours, ten, fifteen minutes?"
"Thirteen," she corrected in a voice that could cut steel.
"...See ya in thirteen minutes, then," he said cheerfully before turning on his heel and leaving without another word.
The grin stayed on his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt as if he'd just won.
Remy watched the guy leave for a few moments, hands on her hips, and finally huffed and went back in her room. She shut the door without a word, leaning against it. She couldn't help but smile to herself; for a total stranger, he'd dealt with her pretty well.
Was he really going to keep asking her until she left? In a way, she was sort of flattered. That was a level of stubbornness she loved to soar to on a daily basis.
Therefore, she liked the fact that he was willing to do that as well.
"...Number Two Ninja Rule: Never fr...fra...f-fraternize with the enemy," Abby said suddenly after a bit of difficulty. Remy glanced over at her, snapped out of her thoughts. "Hm?" Did she just say fraternize? Or fratricide...
She smiled mischievously as if catching Remy raiding the fridge after-hours in the kitchen. "Remy, you'd make a terrible ninja. Some random loser comes in here, you show him who's boss, and then you come back all gooooooogley-eyed!"
"I am NOT googley-eyed!" Remy exclaimed in dismay, throwing a pillow at Abby's head.
When Remy went to the cafeteria for dinner, she glanced every which way (discreetly, of course) but didn't see any sign of that guy. She let out a sigh of relief and slight annoyance. "People are such posers these days," she said with a shake of the head.
"Ain't that the truth, honey," Ruth said as she dumped a heap of mashed potatoes onto her tray. "She be preachin' to the choir," Janelle commented, letting some green beans plop onto Remy's tray as well.
"Evenin', ladies. How's it goin'?"
"We know you can, Janie," Latoya called out from on down with the cauliflower casserole, making Janelle give her a rather special finger. Remy snorted a laugh before grabbing a bottled water and sitting in her usual spot; alone and in the far right corner. That way she could see everything and eat in peace.
She was busy stabbing her green beans and making sound effects ("Jab! Jab! Shrrk! Ahhh, no, please, I don't wanna die! Too bad, you shouldn't have taken my Butterfinger! AHHH, NO PLEAAAASE! MUAHAHAHA!") when she heard the scrape of the chair in front of her being scooted out.
And who should plop into it and scoot it up as loud as possible but the errand-boy from earlier. He scrutinized her from across the table, which made her pissed since that was HER job. "...Didn't anyone ever tell you you're not supposed to play with your food?"
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to not ask if a seat's taken before you sit in it?"
"Is this seat taken?"
"Yeah. Your ass is in it. I'd say it's pretty taken. Although some folks around here just pull chairs out from under someone they don't know."
"You one of them?"
"Nope. Although I was pulled out of my own chair my first few days here, but I doubt you care about that." She sighed and uncrossed her legs, digging in her white pajama pants for her wallet. "How much is my dad paying you?" she asked, not looking up as she counted her money.
"Your dad doesn't even know I'm here," he replied in a quiet voice, glancing around. She could see he was nervous, even with just her peripherals.
Remy stopped thumbing through her money, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh really now?"
"Well, I say! By jove, I believe you've caught my attention, young man!" she exclaimed in a British accent, snapping her fingers. "In fact, just for not being another one of my dad's maaaany brown noses, I think I'll come with you!"
"Really?" he asked hopefully, laughing with relief. Remy kicked him under the table for his stupidity, making him groan. "NO, you bumbling moron! Honestly, you shoulda seen that coming! I had some hope for you when you mentioned not giving up on making me leave this dump, but you just totally ruined it for yourself. You'll have to convince me some other way now," she informed him.
He looked at her strange. "...Is this all...some kind of game to you?"
"You bet your ass it is."
"You don't get it, do you?" he exclaimed in frustration, sighing and shaking his head while rubbing his temples.
Remy chuckled, sipping her water calmly. "To be fair, you're by far the best I've played with so far. I'll give ya that, kid."
"Remy Wilson, I'm about to tell you something I could get shot for sharing. But I guess there's no other way to get you to hurry your ass up and out that door. I work for the CIA, in a special junior operative unit. You're part of my mission. Someone's gonna try and take you, and I'm supposed to make sure that doesn't happen. The CIA wants you out of here. They know as much as you do that you don't belong in here."
Remy rolled her eyes. "Alright, James Bond, I'll for sure go with you now. You like your martinis shaken, don't you?"
He sighed exasperatedly again before leaning towards her on the table. "...What'll it take to get you outta here?" he asked in an even lower voice than before, obviously not wanting to be heard.
She narrowed her eyes. "A goddamn army."
He smirked to himself, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on its two back legs – exactly how she'd been sitting this whole time. "Hey, stick around a little longer and you might get your wish. I don't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure they've got a whole team of mercenaries heading this way. Maybe several teams. I imagine it'll be a madhouse once they hold everyone here hostage."
As much as she hated to admit it, he totally had her attention now. Something about the way he said it made it seem genuinely...well, genuine. He picked up her fork and started playing with her food she hadn't touched. "...I mean, sure, the police'll be down here and get everything straightened out. But I think after a few hours, a day tops, they'll find that among the possible casualties – these ARE mercenaries we're talking about – there's a girl missing. Remy Michelle Wilson. And you'll be sitting in a rat-infested...dank...damp...cold, dark basement. One crawling with spiders, too, I imagine. Bound to a chair. Gagged. No food or water. ...And no. Authority. Or say-so. Whatsoever," he concluded, leaning closer with every word for emphasis.
Remy gulped despite herself, and he smirked before leaning back in his chair. "So. You comin'?"
"Aw, why not?" he demanded to know, whining just a little.
"Because you annoy me," she said simply, drinking some more of her water. He glanced down at her food skeptically. "...That's all you got to eat? Potatoes and beans?"
"Way to change the subject, but yes. Have you SEEN what's in that line?"
He then tossed something at her face, and she caught it just in time. After a few moments of inspection, she realized it was a Snickers. "Have some real food."
She looked over at him indifferently. "...I like Butterfingers better."
He shrugged before jumping when a bell sounded. Remy sighed in relief. "Phew, finally. Playtime's over, kiddo, mummy's got a curfew. Adios, monsieur," she called out over her shoulder as she got up, threw her trash away, and headed for the door.
"I'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW, THEN!" he shouted, making everyone look at the two. Remy gave him The Finger without turning around, making the lunch ladies giggle and go "Oooooh!" while some of the fellow patients laughed at the guy's expense.
"Oooh, look at Miss Remy's hips, ya'll!"
"Shut up, Janelle!" Remy snapped, scowling slightly; she wasn't too proud of the fact that she'd tucked the Snickers into the waistband of her pajama pants before getting up from the table. Hope he didn't notice.