"I don' t'ink I like de look of dat." Mercy commented as she and Zoe watched the three assassins hastily walk down the hallway. The three men looked like they were hiding something, and in all probability, Mercy knew the chances of that were great.
Zoe nodded. "I don't either. They are up to something. Perhaps we should look into it? We can't be too careful, I believe the peace is a very fragile thing."
Mercy turned to her friend as the assassins went into Fifolet's room and shut the door behind them. "I t'ink maybe we should tell Remy. He'll know what to do."
Zoe followed Mercy down the hallway. She saw things a little differently than Mercy and the other thieves, because she was a newcomer of sorts. She had originally been a member of the Thieves Guild of Tokyo, and had only joined the New Orleans Guild a short while before the unification took place. Her reasons for leaving Japan were simple. She had been excommunicated from the Guild because she saved her mutant brother from being exploited by the Guild. She fit in with the New Orleans thieves somewhat, but they were different from her and she wasn't oblivious to the differences.
Zoe sighed slightly as Mercy paused outside the door to Remy's room and knocked on it. In all reality, Zoe herself didn't think of the assassins as mortal enemies, she thought maybe the two guilds could work together as a team if they'd only allow themselves the chance. Remy might feel that way too, Zoe couldn't be sure, because like her, Remy was technically an outsider.
On the other hand, Theoren, Claude, Mercy, Genard and Emil were all direct descendents from original members of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, and they took their feelings about the assassins very seriously. They accepted the unification because it was something they couldn't get around. They believed what Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie had always told them about the prophecies, and they agreed to it, but they didn't like it, and if the assassins were attempting to override the unification somehow, they would do whatever they could to defend themselves against their enemies.
"Come in." Remy's voice said from behind the door. Mercy opened it and the two women went inside.
"Sorry to bother you, Rem, but we wanted to tell you somet'ing." Mercy said. "We t'ink de assassins are up to no good."
"What're dey doin'?" Remy asked, motioning for his sister-in-law and friend to sit down.
"Well, we don' know, for sure, mais, dey're being awful secretive 'bout somet'ing." Mercy told him. "It's jus' Gris, Fifolet an' Questa. I don' t'ink Bel an' Singer are involved. I t'ought maybe you should look into it. Dey are hidin' somet'ing, an' normally when dey're hidin' somet'ing, it's not good for de t'ieves."
"I'll keep an eye open, but I've got other t'ings to worry 'bout right now. I'm sure Bel will take care of it if dey are up to somet'ing." Remy assured them. He didn't want to tell them that the things he had to worry about concerned Emil and the assassins; there was no need to worry Mercy. He knew if Mercy found out Gris-Gris was threatening Emil, she'd get worried. She may have looked like she wasn't a day older than Remy and Emil, but in reality, she was fifty years old, and was closer in age to Theoren and Claude. She tended to think like a mother when it came to the younger Guild members. It wasn't a bad thing, but it did get on their nerves from time to time.
Mercy and Remy continued to talk, but Zoe excused herself and went in search of something else to do. She decided to go for a walk, and when she walked past the living room, she saw Genard sitting on the edge of the couch, bent over to the coffee table, muttering under his breath as he tried to fix his glasses with screwdrivers that were too small to handle.
Zoe took a detour into the living room and sat down beside him, giggling as he continued to curse the fact that he couldn't fix his glasses. "Do you want some help?" she asked.
Genard sighed and turned to her, wishing he could see her clearly. "Would you mind? I could probably do dis myself if I could see what I was doin'. It don' help dat dese foolish screwdrivers were made for someone wit' hands de size of a mouse."
Zoe took the glasses from Genard and studied them. "What happened to them?"
"Oh de frames get loose an' de lenses pop out. It happens all de time. From time to time, I actually manage to fix 'em myself, or else one of de others does it for me."
"I see. Well, today, it's me." Zoe told him with a smile as she searched for the correct screwdriver. "Where's the screw?"
"Right here." Genard handed her the tiny screw and tried to watch as she put it in place and screwed it tight. Before he knew it, she had handed the glasses back to him and said,
"Here you go, good as new."
Genard put the glasses on and smiled at her in return. "T'anks Zoe. It prob'ly woulda taken me a year to fix 'em myself."
"Don't mention it. I was just on my way out for a walk, would you like to join me? I wouldn't mind the company."
Genard flashed the young Japanese thief a surprised look. Zoe was the youngest member of the Guild, a year younger than Remy and Emil, and she never really tried to connect with any of them, let alone him. She was a member of the Guild, but Genard knew that her not being from New Orleans and not having any real ties to the Guild made it difficult for her to fit in. Genard silently wondered why she was asking him to join her, when Emil and Remy were closer to her in age. He figured she'd be more likely to hang out with them, but maybe he was wrong.
"Sure, I'll go wit' you, if you want. Any particular destination?" he said, keeping his questions to himself.
"No, I just feel like getting out of this house for a little while, you know? The tension is starting to get to me."
The two thieves left the safehouse and started walking, Genard letting Zoe pick the direction. They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Genard said,
"You don' feel like you fit in most of de time, do you?"
Zoe cast a quick glance at him, but he wasn't really looking at her. "I don't fit in. I am a thief, and I am a member of the Guild, but I'm not one of you. I'm just lucky, I guess, that Jean-Luc decided to let me in the Guild, but sometimes I think maybe I should have stayed in Japan."
Genard raised an eyebrow and stopped walking. "Do you wish you had?"
Zoe paused and turned to look at him. "No. I like it here even if I don't fit in all that well. I don't understand everything, but you and the others treat me like I belong, and I don't want to throw that away."
"I don' blame you. But isn' it hard sometimes, bein' 'round de rest of us?"
"It can be, but I try not to worry about it much. You guys are a unique bunch. Kinda like the Guild members in Tokyo."
"Guess it comes from bein' t'ieves."
"Maybe so."
Back at the safehouse, Emil was walking down the hallway to his room, minding his own business, when Fifolet stuck his head out one of the doorways. "Hey Lapin. Come here for a sec."
Emil paused and looked at the assassin with a curious but wary expression on his pale face, a question in his blue eyes. He decided to voice the question. "What d'you want?"
"I wan' show you somet'ing, come here." Fifolet insisted.
Emil stayed where he was in the hallway. He didn't like the look he saw on Fifolet's face, and he didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him, which wasn't far. He knew something was going on, and he wasn't too keen on being anywhere near any assassin if he was by himself. He was a computer specialist, not much of a fighter, although he could fight fairly well if he had to. It was all part of his training. "Why don' you show me what it is from dere, an' I'll stay here?" he asked lightly, trying not to give his uneasiness away, wondering if he was successful.
Fifolet looked at him. "Oh I can' do dat. You know, someone might see what I have to show you an' we can' have dat. So are you gon' come here or not?"
"Nope." Emil replied shortly.
Fifolet pulled an innocent, hurt expression out of his reserve of fake expressions and pouted. He was a very good actor when he wanted to be. "What, you don' trust me? C'mon, Lapin, what have I ever done to make you distrust me?"
"You want a list?" Emil asked. "I'm sure I could t'ink of at least five t'ings."
Fifolet sighed. "Whatever. Fine. But if your curiosity gets de best of you an' you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"Well I doubt I will, but I'll keep it in mind." Emil said, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway to his own room. Once in his room he leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. His instincts had told him that Fifolet wasn't alone in that room and that he did the right thing in not taking the assassin up on his offer. Something was going on. He just didn't know what.
Fifolet shut the door and turned to Gris and Questa with a shake of his head.
Gris-Gris groaned. "He didn' fall for it? Damn. We'll jus' have to keep workin' on him. If we can' get him, we'll have to try for Alouette. Marceaux and Potier are too smart to get caught."
"What are we gon' do when we catch dem, Gris?" Questa asked, flipping through a magazine.
Fifolet laughed. "When we catch, dem, Questa, mon ami, we're gon' have a little fun wit' dem. An' no one will be able to stop us. We won' go too far, of course, b'cause we can' get our dear patriarch angry wit' us, mais dey will get a lesson dey soon won' forget."