Fractals

Fractals Chapter Forty Seven (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…breathe! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting! ProPhile: *poke * (Because I can’t think of something else to say right now, lol). Morgan: *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: Downhill slide from here…

Remy had to admit, even though he was on the verge of putting his fist through the wall and possibly someone’s skull, he loved mornings in the French Quarter. He loved how still the world seemed, in that hour or so before people started leaving for their jobs in across the lake or in Slidell, he loved how it seemed as if time had stopped somewhere a few centuries ago, people sleepily sweeping the sidewalk in front of their shops, opening curtains and shades on goods still cloaked in the shadows of unlit shops, the thick smell of coffee from the various shops, and the shouting from along the wharf, distant and close at the same time. Behind him lay the Garden District and it’s own air of mystery, the dense shadows and creeping vines refusing to let the world in or the residents move on. Even those long dead seemed to linger under the scuppernong, staring out at the living and their goings-on. He sighed as he paused on the curb, waiting for a slow moving cab carrying a newlywed couple to turn. Remy bounced on his toes, waiting until the light to cross changed, then he strode across Rue Chartres and headed for the small shop, really no bigger than a large closet, tucked between a restaurant most people never saw and the narrow entryway for a townhouse. The door was locked against him but he knew she was in there. He knocked twice, then waited, whistling under his breath. He could feel his father behind him, not obvious but present. He wondered if the older man realized he was noticed, then decided that he did not care and was rather glad that someone was with him…just in case. A soft shuffling came from behind the wooden door and a light voice, rich with age but quiet with time, drifted out to him. “Remy LeBeau, have you lost your fool mind?”
He smiled broadly as the door crept open and dark eyes glared up at him accusingly. “Tante Mattie,” he grinned, “bon matin…”1 He bent to hug her only to yelp in pain as she pinched his ear, hard, and forcibly pulled him into the old shop. “Tante Mattie!”
“Remy LeBeau, tu est un grand ane!2” she snapped, releasing her hold with a small shove and turning to shuffle to dark counter in the back of the shop. She kept up a steady stream of Creole and Cajun mutterings as she fished under the surface of the counter for something, smiling faintly when she came up with a deck of cards and then, a moment later, a crystal ball.
“They ain’t killed me yet,” he sulked in response to her chatter. “ ‘sides, you know mon pere be jus’ round the corner…”
“Oui,” she snapped, “mais you don’ know who be jus’ in here, do ya?” She tapped the deck on the wooden surface and fanned it out smoothly. “Cinq.”
Remy sighed and picked five cards, flipping them face-up as he spoke. “You know why I’m here, eh?”
“Dat,” she said, glancing up at him, “gotta be de dumbest question I hear in a long time, petit.” She hunched over her cards, frowning then. After a long moment during which she hmmm-d and aaaaaah-d, clucking her tongue softly and waving her hands over each card as if drawing their secrets away from the images, she finally looked up at him. “You don’ need me tellin’ you what’s what, cher.”
“Oui,” he admitted, “mais je sais que you have some answers I need, Tante Mattie.” He leaned across the counter and looked her in the eyes. “Mes amis…”
Tante Mattie nodded and made a shooing motion, making him lean back. “I need my space,” she said tartly. “Look here,” she tapped the cards one by one. “Got yo’self a prollem, eh? Mais, see dis? It ain’t gonna be easy. You gonna lose somethin’ important. Somethin’ very important.”
Remy raised a brow. “Tante Mattie, I ain’t a tourist. Gimme de whole truth.” He braced his hands against the counter and caught a glimpse of the clock over Mattie’s head, part of his mind noting absurdly that if it was seven thirty there, it was eight thirty in Bayville. A fleeting image of Jubilee, groggily getting out of bed, her hair with it’s rainbow tipped spikes, messy from a long night’s sleep, crossed his mind. He wished to God and back that he was there, even if it meant missing New Orleans. Tante Mattie cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her and the cards.
“Maintenant,” she sighed, “dis be what I’m seein’ here… you gotta get outta de city, d’accord? Jus’ go. N’ecoute pas a ton pere.3” Her voice had gone from soft and tired to something harsher, vehement in her direction. “You in grave danger, cher.”
Remy kept his expression neutral but inside, his heart skipped several beats, then seemed to beat triple time. “Je sais,” he replied carefully. “I know ‘bout de contract…”
“Non,” she snapped, sweeping the cards into a stack and shoving them back under the counter. She tossed something at him and he caught it handily before realizing it was a folded up newspaper. “C’est aujourd’hui.”
It was indeed that day’s paper and the headline was accusing. He felt a numbness creeping over him as his lips moved, the headline seeping as a whisper from his throat. “Mutants Among Us: Evidence of Human Experimentation Gone Wrong.” He took a quick breath and assayed a brilliant smile. “Obviously, dey wrong. We ain’t no experiment.”
Tante Mattie looked grim. “Dat ain’t what people are gonna see, cher. All dey gotta know is you ain’t like dem. Dey don’t care why.” She nodded at the paper in his hands and added, “Lookit de end.”
Remy opened the paper to find the end of the article with a cold fear wending through the numbness. “Merde…scare bleu et merde…” The list was short, but it said all it needed to for those who were prone to panic.
“All dere,” Tante Mattie nodded. “C’est…what de phrase? Open season on all y’all.”

1 I know I’ve had her in here before but I’d like to reiterate, she’s a bit OOC from the comic canon.
2 “Remy LeBeau, you are a huge ass!” as in jackass.
3 Don’t listen to your father.