Hello my dear readers.
Ok, first of all I want to apologize for the abrupt cut/ending from the original Le Transporteur, but fate brought me this utterly incredible and impossible to reject opportunity which is having one of my favorite authors (and undoubtedly one of the best romy writers here) UltimateGammy91 as the beta of this fic. So, the old one has been deleted and I'm very excited to give you the new and improved version of Le Transporteur. I hope you enjoy it, just to let you know some parts (the new ones) are a product of the always productive mind of UltimateGammy91, which acted as co-author here and there, lol!!! (love you big time girl :D hope you're doing better)
Scenario: Rogue left the Brotherhood but didn't rejoin the X-men. She has found the ability to control her powers and as one of the most powerful mutants the MRD is after her. The men responsible for the Sentinel Program are after powerful mutants to get DNA samples for the improvement of Master Mold and they clearly want Rogue's. A mutant thief with no loyalties is hired to make an important delivery, but everything is turned upside down when he opens the so-called package. ROMY
A/N: French ant thoughts are in italics.
Disclaimer: I do not own X-men they are Marvel's, although today I bought the Wolverine Origins movie in DVD at Tower Records, which means I can see Taylor Kitsch as Gambit whenever I want! As for The Transporter movie well I don't have any idea but clearly it's not mine either.
This is for kvh502 and UltimateGammy91 for being awesome.
A mutant thief can't be having loyalties… can't love… can't hope to dream of the future… it just isn't meant to be.
-New York City-
It was a dark September night. The beautiful, slender woman, dressed in white smirked as she slipped out of her red convertible and walked towards the elevator. Who could have imagined that the new MRD restricted headquarters were located in the center of Manhattan? No one. Just as no one would say that after that thief blew her car to pieces that Warren Worthington II would give her a new one. Senator Kelly believed that an abandoned warehouse wasn't safe anymore. Besides, people would grow suspicious if expensive cars and fancy dressed people started going back and forth. The solution was so simple; from now on the MRD secret headquarters and Project Wideawake location would be hidden in the underground basement of Worthington Enterprises.
After passing several crystal doors, the young woman entered a leather-clad office without waiting for an invitation. She effortlessly threw a manila envelope onto the mahogany desk before her. A red oriental style rug covered the floor, leaving her footsteps almost inaudible. The man who sat at the desk raised his eyes to meet her gaze as took the sheets of paper out of the envelope. Every document was branded with a stamp on the top right-hand corner, classifying them as confidential documents.
"Are you sure of this?" the man inquired.
"Absolutely," the woman replied taking a seat in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk. "The info is 100% reliable."
"Worthington?" the man asked with a frown
"Yes," the woman replied simply.
"Then we must capture her." The man stated with a stern nod of agreement.
Carefully, the man put the sheets back in the envelope. Bolivar Trask, an experience and laureate scientist was now working for Senator Robert Kelly and, thanks to Mr. Warren Worthington II financial support, the man in charge of the Sentinel Program creating and development. Although the original building had been destroyed by Wolverine and that thief Dr. Zane hired, he was now running this new secret laboratory hidden under Worthington's Manhattan offices. However, having discovered some majors details about Wolverine's adamantium skeleton, he would probably be able to create an indestructible and more powerful Master Mold. He certainly would not make the same mistakes those fool men made with Wolverine, this time the project would be successful.
With his arms crossed behind his back, Trask paced the room as he spoke to his partner. "We can't take any risks. Worthington's name is at stake. He cannot be linked to the MRD, nor the government. Senator Kelly has demanded absolutely discretion and confidentiality."
"Don't worry I'm not sending our men."
Trask turned slowly to face her with a suspicious frown. "Who are you going to hire?"
The woman simply smiled knowingly and Trask's glare narrowed as he spoke gently. "I will not tolerate any mistakes. I don't want to remind you about the inhibitor device fiasco."
"The first phase is already complete Bolivar," the woman replied defiantly. She hated when Trask down-spoke her like any common employee. "The girl is already in one of our secret bases. We just need somebody to take her to the final destination."
"I see..." Trask rubbed his chin analyzing her words. "So we just need a transporter?"
"I hope you found someone reliable… very reliable. Someone who can keep his mouth shut..."
"I know the guy," the woman said as she stood up from the leather chair and grabbed the envelope from Trask's desk.
"Is he trustworthy?" Trask asked.
"As if his life depends on it."
"Good, because it does."
The woman gave a curt nod before she made for the door. She was stopped however when Trask spoke up again. "And Sybil?" he gave her a warning glare as he spoke. "Our entire future hangs on this job too. Do not disappoint me."
The woman silently nodded and left the room.
Once in her own office -a smaller version of Trask's one- Sybil closed the door behind her and poured the documents over her desk. A serious look and a malicious grin spread across her lips. The sophisticated interior space was clean and sober, just a big mahogany desk and a bookcase on the left. The prevailing dark, neutral tones were punctuated by the moonlight that entered the room from one ceiling window, highlighting her tanned face and the few object on her desk. She opened a locked drawer, took out a blackberry and dialed a number.
"Alò," a man voice answered.
"It's Sybil Zane." (*)
"Chère... to what do I owe de honor?"
"I need your services," she stated simply.
"Y' know mon price."
"I'll pay you more this time."
"Je vois... et what do I have to do?"
"Sounds bien... I'm listening. Be brief." Sybil didn't like the Cajun thief, but she couldn't deny his abilities. She hired him simply because he was the best and because he never asked questions.
"One bag, that's it," Sybil said.
"Dimensions, be specific."
"One meter sixty by half meter."
"Around 115 pounds."
"MRD base in Montreal, Canada. You'll be delivering to Mister-"
"Non," the man cut her off. "No names. If no one's dere, it's not ma responsabilité. I'll leave de package."
"Trust me, there will be someone there."
"Time of pickup?"
"Tomorrow morning, same place you delivered the inhibitor collar last time."
As long as he was paid, the thief was reliable, but she couldn't risk the MRD's new location. Hired help or not, he was a thief. The old warehouse was the perfect scapegoat.
"Et about de payment?"
"Half now, half on delivery. And remember this transaction never happened..."
The man chuckled "They never do."
"Anything else?" Sybil asked.
"Non," he replied simply.
"Do we have a deal then?" A devilish smile covered her features.
"Once we make a deal, de terms of dat deal can't be changed or renegotiated," the man said more like a reminder. It wasn't his fault the last job hadn't turned out well.
"You're very precise monsiuer LeBeau." Sybil said in a mockery tone, he was very exigent for a thief.
"What I do is precise business," the young man replied with a faint chuckle.
"There is one simple rule monsieur LeBeau."
"Do not open the package. You deliver, no questions asked."
The next morning, Remy LeBeau arrived on time at the meeting place. In fact he got there five minutes early. When it came to business, he was well known for putting a great emphasis on punctuality. He was clean-shaved and elegantly dressed in an Armani black suit, complimented by a black and his distinctive brown trench coat. The place was a vacant lot; it was all that was left of the MRD laboratory. Remy gave an impressed, slow shake of his head. It was impressive how quick the government could cover its tracks. As his eyes traveled around the place, he caught sight of a young man standing next to a black BMW. He beckoned towards him.
"Are you the transporter?" the young blond asked with a thick New York accent.
"Oui, I am," Remy replied dryly. He didn't like the look the young man gave him, nor the name he addressed him with. But what did it matter? Remy didn't even bother to correct the man's addressal.
The man ignored him and handed him a set of silver keys on a chain. "This is the car, and here are the keys. The package is already in the trunk. You've got three days. No more, no less."
"D'accord, trois jours." Remy grabbed the keys impatiently. If this boy wanted to act tough he could teach him a couple of lessons. But it seemed the guy was out of time. With a pointed index, the young man scowled as he gave a last warning.
"Listen to me, you have to be there in three days. The package depends on it. Alright?"
"Oui, oui, I understand."
Remy rolled his eyes waving off the man's orders. The fact that they were hidden behind a pair of Ray Ban shades did nothing to defeat the purpose of the action.
"Are the specifications the same?"
The young man nodded a yes and Remy nodded in agreement.
"Den dere's not goin' to be any problème. I will need to stop at least once for gas and such…"
The man gave an irritated grunt as Remy made his way to the driver's seat.
"Yeah, whatever… with or without stops, if you stick to the orders there's not gonna be any problem," he said as he took a step back.
The engine roared to life as Remy shut the front door. He gave a two-finger mockery of a salute to the young MRD operative. "Mon ami, how many red-eyed men have y' seen drivin' a brand new black BMW non stop from NY to Canada?" Remy asked and the boy remained silent. "Dat's what I thought."
Remy took a last glance of the city limits through the rearview mirror as he sped up and took the interstate. He had just turned his gaze back to the road ahead when a vague sound caught his attention. At first, he brushed it off as nothing. The second time he heard it, he realized it was a thumping sound, and it was coming from the trunk. For a moment, the contemplated pulling over to see what the noise was about, but a moment later he dismissed it and turned on the radio.
No opening the package
It was still early and the road was almost empty. Remy took triumph in the quietness of the road. It made the job a little easier on his part. He could loosen his guard a little without the worry of any suspicious being placed on him. Until now everything was going as planned. Everything, until-
"Merde," Remy could feel the tire flapping as the car began to bunny-hop along the road. He turned to the wing mirror and cursed his luck; the back tire was half-shreaded by whatever penetrated it.
Still cursing, Remy pulled over and got out of the car. He just needed to change the flat tire. The late hour chill got to him, causing him to curse again as he tightened his brown trench coat around him. He opened the trunk, suspecting that the spare tire was probably kept inside. That was when he first caught sight of the package. Well, it wasn't really a package. It was a black army bag, both bulky but longer that the average. Remy tried to move it in an attempt to get the spare tire. He was surprised, when he moved it, by how heavy it was. However that wasn't the last thing to surprise him. As he pushed it back, the sound of muffed sobs erupted from within it. Immediately, he dropped the package. The black bag thumped inside the trunk and Remy could hear another pair of muffed sobs.
"What in de world-?"
He reached to unzip the bag but stopped when a moment of reluctance overtook him. His hands hovered over the zipper. By unzipping this, he was breaking the ultimate rule. Don't open the package. The moment of hesitance was pulled to a sudden stop however when he saw the fabric of the bag shift in protest. Another round of sobs escaped before he reached out for the zipper.
The first thing he noticed was a beautiful pair of green emerald eyes. Frightened, emerald eyes.
"Mon Dieu…" Remy mumbled as he stared into the pair of tearful eyes. It was suddenly difficult to think that this was the package. Especially now that he knew it was in fact a young woman. Wordlessly, he tried to help her to sit but the moment he grabbed her shoulder she flinched away. Her eyes resembled those of a frighten deer in the head lights
Not knowing what else to do, Remy proceeded to unzip the bag and help her get out of it. When she refused to move any further than the edge of the trunk, he tried his best to ease her distrust.
"I'm not goin' to hurt y', je promets."
The girl didn't move she just looked back at him with those deep green eyes. It was then he realized her mouth had been silenced by a strip of tape.
"I'm going to take the tape off, mais if you scream," he failed to come up with a plausible threat as those deep green orbs stared up at him. So instead, he replied. "Y' understand petite?"
The girl continued to stare but nodded so Remy carefully remove the tape off her mouth.
The girl took a deep breath, her eyes fluttered shut in exhaust for a moment before she opened them to stare up at him again. Her brow furrowed slightly sith suspicious as she spoke.
"Are yah helping meh?"
Even with her weak, raspy voice Remy noticed her southern drawl. Her words letting out a deep sigh, Remy lowered his gaze shaking his head. "Je suis desole... mais je ne peux pas." (I'm sorry… I cannot)
Remy's heart fell as the girl's eyes lost their spark of hope. Hope, that he had single handedly crushed with just a few words.
"Ple- please..." the girl asked.
Remy lift his eyes again and looked into those emerald pools she had for eyes. After what felt like an eternity of staring into those glossy, green eyes, Remy cleared his throat and pulled her gently to her feet. He placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her to the backseat of the BMW as he spoke.
"We can't stay here petite. Jus' get in et we can get going-"
He was cut-short however when she came to a stand-still in front of the open door. Her discerning, suspicious gaze turned on him at full force. Though she was not able to voice her defiance, her actions spoke perfectly clear. Remy let out a deep sigh through his nose.
"I know a place close by. Plus, it'll be dark soon. Y' sure y' want t' stay here?"
He knew he had struck the right cords when her skeptical frown slackened to an anxious scowl. Finally, the girl nodded and slipped into the back seat. Remy made sure to lock the doors as he climbed into the front seat.
Though the trip was silent once they started driving, Remy began to argue loudly with himself in his own thoughts. He has been hired to deliver the package. Not open it (despite being instructed not to) and contemplate helping "the package" instead. He was doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons, no matter which option he chose (1). But those eyes... he couldn't deny anything to those beautiful emerald eyes. He continued to rant and rave to himself as they neared the safe house.
In a few minutes he reached the exact place where the road forked and Remy looked the road ahead him; one path led to the right, the original plan, the other one led to the left. The safe place he told her about. It was the moment of truth... deliver the package or play the hero and help that mysterious southern belle...
(*) Sybil Zane is the woman who hires Gambit on WatXM episode 5 to steal the inhibitor collar. She works with Bolivar Trask.
Gambit #4 quote from Cold Hands, Warm Cards: a Rogue and Gambit site, pretty cool site check it out!!
(1) You just did the wrong thing for the right reasons.
X-men Evolution, Cajun Spice.
I went by the safe-house Gams, as tempting as the idea of Rogue and Remy together in a motel room idea may be!!!
Loved it? Hated it? please tell me what you think!!
p.s. if you still do not know UltimateGammy91 work go and check it out right now, I command you!!