Any speed you drive can be dangerous.
TITLE: Mix the Chemicals Right (The Margin Of Error Is Slight)
FANDOM: X-Men, DCU - Conflictverse
CHARACTERS: Emil, Babs
RATING: Low Teen [Innuendo]
SUMMARY: When you need information you can’t get from your friends, who do you turn to? Your favourite adversary.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: What had started as a comment ficlet for the lovely scribble_myname turned into this. I REGRET NOTHING. I THINK.
Behold, the beginning of the flirtation/relationship between my two favourite hackers.
Clickclickclickclick.
Emil’s fingers flew over his keyboard with their customary speed and ease. There were bank accounts to adjust --
(shift the money from the Swiss bank account under the name Joseph Anderson to the American one under the name of David Browning, cover the trail with some detours through an anonymous Canadian account and cover it with a final bounce through Russia and back to a different Swiss account)
-- and people in general to screw with.
Clickclickclick.
Ten minutes later the funds had been completely diverted. Next project was getting some intel to Theoren’s team for the big corporate espionage thing they were working on.
He paused though, mouth twitching for a moment. It’d been a few days, but the echo of what Remy had said to him on the phone was still playing over and over in his head.
Henri’s gonna play his hand soon. It’ll all make sense then.
I know it’s twisted, and I’m sorry I don’t have the time t’explain it proper. Right now though I need y’to do this for me, and I need you to make sure no-one knows y’did. ‘Specially not Henri.
Henri had yet to say anything that cleared anything up at all. All Emil had seen was the man’s frustration with Remy’s disappearance. Emil had covered for his cousin, just like he had promised he would, and had Henri believing that he was searching high and low for the AWOL Remy.
He couldn’t get in touch with Remy himself to ask questions, obviously. There was no way to. That was the point of a deletion. He could trace Remy’s last call to Westchester, New York, but beyond that, nothing. He couldn’t backtrack either, since every record of Remy’s existence was now gone.
What had Remy so spooked though? He couldn’t ask anyone in the Guild. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Remy was trying to escape it.
He pulled on his headset, adjusted his microphone, and opened up a fresh window on his computer.
“Oracle? You there girl?”
“Rabbit,” she drawled back after a moment. “For you, of course.”
Emil couldn’t help but smile.
“One of the things I love ‘bout ‘chu. Makes m’heart go pitter-pat and all that jazz.”
“Flattery’s gonna get you nowhere.”
His smile turned into a leer out of sheer habit. “Gimmie time.”
“Trust me, I’m waiting. I’m getting the sense this isn’t just a social call though.”
“Was hopin’ you could do me a turn.”
“You’re looking for a favour?” While he had no idea what Oracle actually looked like, he could imagine a combination of quirked mouth and eyebrow.
“As much as I’d love it, ain’t that kind.” Beat. “Today.”
“Normally, I’d crash your ass to hell and back for that. You’ve got me curious though. What are you after?”
“Need you to do some digging that I can’t.”
“Finally admitting that I pretty much own you? High time.”
“You ain’t got my collar yet, girl. Don’t mean I’m adverse to handing it over.”
“Oh, I got you whenever I want you, Bunny. You should know that much.”
He chuckled. “Don’ go makin’ it sound like a bad thing now.”
“You’re incorrigible. Are you planning on explaining why you’re coming to me?”
“I’m too close to what I’m after. Too hot for me to touch.”
“Kinda like me, hmm?”
“Got it in one. Still, man can dream, can’t he?”
“And a girl can keep him dreaming too.”
“Oof. That’s harsh, Oracle. That mean you gonna lend a hand? ‘Cause I can beg if y’like. I’m good at begging.”
“I’m sure you are,” she laughed. “Shoot.”
He bit his lip, deciding exactly what it was he wanted to ask. Obviously, the whole thing had something to do with Henri. Remy had been operating under the name Robert Lord, so…
“Cross-reference Henri LeBeau and Robet Lord. Gimmie what you got.”
He heard the tapping of a keyboard and her breathing for a couple minutes.
“Got some police reports here, and that’s it. Seeing as I’m not letting you into my system -”
“-which is a shame, seein’ as it’s a damn fine one -”
“- how do you want…oh, don’t even, Rabbit.”
“Can’t blame me for trying."
“I could, but I won’t. I’m planning on keeping you around for a while still. You’re entertaining.”
“What was it y’said about flattery?” His fingers flashed quickly. “A’ight. Just opened a temporary path. See it?”
“Yep. Documents should be coming through now.”
As promised, they did, and he opened a couple up. A cursory skim had his hands on the verge of shaking.
Paris.
Henri was going to flip on Remy for the Paris thing.
If Oracle hadn’t been on the other end, he would have sworn.
“Rabbit?” she asked at his silence, and while he ought to have found her worry touching, he was a little preoccupied for that. “Rabbit, everything fine?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, should be. Can y’make this conversation disappear?”
“Ashamed of having to turn to me?”
It was easy to slip back into the badinage even if he was sporting a mild frown.
“Never. Jus’ don’ want you caught up in my mess.”
“Is that actual concern? Getting sweet on me there, Rabbit?”
“Always been. ‘Cept those times when y’eviscerate my security protocols before I do yours. Though I love a girl who can break me down.”
“You’re a sick man. Not sure what it says about me that I don’t mind.”
“Says that I got me a chance, that’s what.”
“I hope not.”
“You’re killin’ me here.”
“Somehow I think you’ll survive.”
“Sure, in the corner nursin’ my broken heart. Might help if you come kiss it better.”
“Get used to disappointment.”
“You’re gonna admit your undying love f’me one o’these days, Oracle.”
She gave a warm laugh. “You take care, Rabbit.”
“You too.”
Oracle disconnected, and Emil pulled his headset off. He blew out a breath as he weighed what he now knew. No wonder Remy wanted to disappear. No wonder Remy didn’t want him to say a word to Henri. Tossing the headset to the side, he leaned back in his chair.
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter the dungeon,” he called, head braced upside down over the top of his chair.
The door swung open, and he was looking up at Henri. Sitting up straight, he swiveled his chair around so he was facing him.
“Any progress?” Henri asked.
“Took care of the Swiss accounts. Was about to start with Theo’s stuff.”
He nodded. “How ‘bout Remy?”
“No dice yet,” Emil answered, ever the practiced liar. “Last official word came from the safe house. One o’his names did pop up in a hotel over in Iowa though. Nothin’ solid, but m’tracking from there.”
“Keep me posted, yeah?”
“’Course.”
-Fin-