Le Tourbillon de la Vie (5/12)
Title: Le Tourbillon de la Vie
Characters: Claude, Sandra, OMC
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 1002
Spoilers: In this part not terribly much but for the story overall it really helps to have read the Golden Handshake series of the GN.
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah.
Summary: A Company trip to Paris takes a turn for the...interesting.
A/N: Because I am clearly insane I took a perfectly decent Noah/Sandra/Claude threesome fic (which is now the prologue) and turned it into a quasi-romantic action movie set in Paris. I still don't even know. I blame Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn.
Super-awesome-special thanks to englishmuffin2 for beta-ing and assisting with the French.
[ Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]
[Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Epilogue]
“So who is this…this man we’re going to see…” Sandra sounded slightly out of breath and Claude reminded himself to stop walking quite as fast.
“Hassan Mellouk,” he said, stopping at a street corner and letting her catch up. “Officially, he’s a bit of a low-level thief. Successful, but not what you’d call reliable. Tends to disappear off the face of the earth without a moments notice, which makes him a bit of a bugger to track down.”
“And unofficially?”
“Glad you asked,” he lied, and started walking again. “He’s a kind of a de-facto mentor to people like…well, certain kind of people,” he glanced sideways, and Sandra looked back at him, innocent and waiting. “Young, powered, orphans or runaways. People good at gettin’ into places and out of them. Helps them to get a little better at it, teams up with them, on occasion. Puts them in touch with people’d that pay them well for it.”
“Pay them well for what?”
“Stealin’. Not always goods, sometimes it’s…information. Sorta like industrial espionage, if you will.”
“Like the Company?”
“No,” he was surprised at the vehemence in his voice, and a glance back at Sandra showed that she was too. He stopped and let her catch up again. “Not quite, we’re…we’re not out to…well, it’s different, all right?”
“All right,” she said quietly, and walked ahead of him. “And then what, does he…does he cheat them out of it or…”
“No, not at all, actually,” he couldn’t help chuckle. “Fact you could say there isn’t a more honest or forthright man around, really.”
“But-“
“He’s a criminal, Sandra, but…” he sighed. “What he steals, what he helps steal, needs to be sold. Needs to make sure the people buyin’ from him and the people sellin’ to him trust him. Man like that, his reputation’s all he’s got.”
“You know him,” clear and quiet, and Claude stopped short. “Don’t you?”
He sighed and turned around.
“’It’s a long story,” he said, and was careful to meet her eyes. “That I’ll be glad to tell you, soon as we find out the end of it, yeah?”
Sandra let out a weak chuckle, and nodded.
“So now what?”
“Well, it’s a coupla blocks north, but…” he saw an alley that looked good enough, half lit and reaching far enough from the street to probably not be heard, with the hazy form of a dumpster. “Now we’re gonna to take a little detour.”
“What…” she didn’t seem terribly upset when he grabbed at her wrist and led her down, at least not until they got further away from the streetlights and it wasn’t entirely clear what they were stepping in.
“Stay here,” he nodded at her, and walked further up the alley, about half way. Grabbed what turned out to be a slick and strange-smelling glass bottle off the ground and balanced it on the edge of the dumpster.
“Claude, what on earth are you-“
“Need to have a better grasp of what you can do,” he called back.
“What I can-“ she sounded more than a little exasperated. “I can’t do anything, not like-
“This afternoon, you picked up Noah’s gun, like it was instinct,” he said, and walked closer to her. “You pulled the trigger without so much as blinkin’. You know what you’re doin’, or at least you think you do. Thing is, Sandra,” he handed her his gun. “I need to know how right you are.”
“Claude-“
“Can see that, can’t you?”
“Well, yes, but-“ She gave him a pleading look, but Claude just nodded, and patted her shoulder.
“Go on then.”
She looked at him again, and sighed. Raised the gun and took the shot.
*
“ Claude…”
“Just follow my lead,” he nodded at her distractedly.
“But-”
“Don’t say anythin’ until you think you need to.”
“When will I-“
“I trust you,” he said, and saw her frown. Reached out to grasping lightly at her arms, and gave a sheepish laugh. “Know it doesn’t feel like it when I’m cuttin’ you off like that, but I do,” and she smiled weakly, and he paused. “You sure about this, Sandra? ‘cos I can take you back. Call up Jean, have him stay with you. You’ll have a better time with him, it…might get a bit rough in there, I might end up…sayin’ a few things that you-“
“I’m sure,” she nodded, and held her head a little higher than normal.
He nodded back, and then turned to open the door for her.
A rush of smoke and light and sound around them and he could feel his heartbeat escalate, but it was easy enough to ignore as he walked past small tables and around a couple of harried looking waiters. No one that he recognized, and he was banking on that going both ways.
Glanced at Sandra, once, and saw a woman in a well-cut black suit, crisp white shirt, hair pulled into a tight bun, with a confident gait and shrewd eyes. Knew that at the very least, he wouldn’t be the only one doing a whole lot of explaining when this was done, and that gave him something to look forward to.
But it had to be done, first. So he eased open a dark door with more care than he normally would’ve used, and took the newly uncovered stairs as quickly as he could.
Could hear Sandra behind him, sensible shoes quiet on slightly sticky linoleum, and nodded to himself.
Another corridor with a familiar enough door, generally speaking, and he pushed it open without hesitation. The man in a simple grey suit, sitting at a cluttered desk, glanced up, his expression wary until his eyes lit in recognition.
“Claude!” Hassan grinned, arms opening as he stood and walked closer. “It has been too long, old friend. How is Haram-“
“You fucking bastard,” he growled, and Hassan barely had time to blink before Claude had him pinned against the wall with a hand around his throat.
*
Characters: Claude, Sandra, OMC
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 1002
Spoilers: In this part not terribly much but for the story overall it really helps to have read the Golden Handshake series of the GN.
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah.
Summary: A Company trip to Paris takes a turn for the...interesting.
A/N: Because I am clearly insane I took a perfectly decent Noah/Sandra/Claude threesome fic (which is now the prologue) and turned it into a quasi-romantic action movie set in Paris. I still don't even know. I blame Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn.
Super-awesome-special thanks to englishmuffin2 for beta-ing and assisting with the French.
[ Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]
[Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Epilogue]
“So who is this…this man we’re going to see…” Sandra sounded slightly out of breath and Claude reminded himself to stop walking quite as fast.
“Hassan Mellouk,” he said, stopping at a street corner and letting her catch up. “Officially, he’s a bit of a low-level thief. Successful, but not what you’d call reliable. Tends to disappear off the face of the earth without a moments notice, which makes him a bit of a bugger to track down.”
“And unofficially?”
“Glad you asked,” he lied, and started walking again. “He’s a kind of a de-facto mentor to people like…well, certain kind of people,” he glanced sideways, and Sandra looked back at him, innocent and waiting. “Young, powered, orphans or runaways. People good at gettin’ into places and out of them. Helps them to get a little better at it, teams up with them, on occasion. Puts them in touch with people’d that pay them well for it.”
“Pay them well for what?”
“Stealin’. Not always goods, sometimes it’s…information. Sorta like industrial espionage, if you will.”
“Like the Company?”
“No,” he was surprised at the vehemence in his voice, and a glance back at Sandra showed that she was too. He stopped and let her catch up again. “Not quite, we’re…we’re not out to…well, it’s different, all right?”
“All right,” she said quietly, and walked ahead of him. “And then what, does he…does he cheat them out of it or…”
“No, not at all, actually,” he couldn’t help chuckle. “Fact you could say there isn’t a more honest or forthright man around, really.”
“But-“
“He’s a criminal, Sandra, but…” he sighed. “What he steals, what he helps steal, needs to be sold. Needs to make sure the people buyin’ from him and the people sellin’ to him trust him. Man like that, his reputation’s all he’s got.”
“You know him,” clear and quiet, and Claude stopped short. “Don’t you?”
He sighed and turned around.
“’It’s a long story,” he said, and was careful to meet her eyes. “That I’ll be glad to tell you, soon as we find out the end of it, yeah?”
Sandra let out a weak chuckle, and nodded.
“So now what?”
“Well, it’s a coupla blocks north, but…” he saw an alley that looked good enough, half lit and reaching far enough from the street to probably not be heard, with the hazy form of a dumpster. “Now we’re gonna to take a little detour.”
“What…” she didn’t seem terribly upset when he grabbed at her wrist and led her down, at least not until they got further away from the streetlights and it wasn’t entirely clear what they were stepping in.
“Stay here,” he nodded at her, and walked further up the alley, about half way. Grabbed what turned out to be a slick and strange-smelling glass bottle off the ground and balanced it on the edge of the dumpster.
“Claude, what on earth are you-“
“Need to have a better grasp of what you can do,” he called back.
“What I can-“ she sounded more than a little exasperated. “I can’t do anything, not like-
“This afternoon, you picked up Noah’s gun, like it was instinct,” he said, and walked closer to her. “You pulled the trigger without so much as blinkin’. You know what you’re doin’, or at least you think you do. Thing is, Sandra,” he handed her his gun. “I need to know how right you are.”
“Claude-“
“Can see that, can’t you?”
“Well, yes, but-“ She gave him a pleading look, but Claude just nodded, and patted her shoulder.
“Go on then.”
She looked at him again, and sighed. Raised the gun and took the shot.
*
“ Claude…”
“Just follow my lead,” he nodded at her distractedly.
“But-”
“Don’t say anythin’ until you think you need to.”
“When will I-“
“I trust you,” he said, and saw her frown. Reached out to grasping lightly at her arms, and gave a sheepish laugh. “Know it doesn’t feel like it when I’m cuttin’ you off like that, but I do,” and she smiled weakly, and he paused. “You sure about this, Sandra? ‘cos I can take you back. Call up Jean, have him stay with you. You’ll have a better time with him, it…might get a bit rough in there, I might end up…sayin’ a few things that you-“
“I’m sure,” she nodded, and held her head a little higher than normal.
He nodded back, and then turned to open the door for her.
A rush of smoke and light and sound around them and he could feel his heartbeat escalate, but it was easy enough to ignore as he walked past small tables and around a couple of harried looking waiters. No one that he recognized, and he was banking on that going both ways.
Glanced at Sandra, once, and saw a woman in a well-cut black suit, crisp white shirt, hair pulled into a tight bun, with a confident gait and shrewd eyes. Knew that at the very least, he wouldn’t be the only one doing a whole lot of explaining when this was done, and that gave him something to look forward to.
But it had to be done, first. So he eased open a dark door with more care than he normally would’ve used, and took the newly uncovered stairs as quickly as he could.
Could hear Sandra behind him, sensible shoes quiet on slightly sticky linoleum, and nodded to himself.
Another corridor with a familiar enough door, generally speaking, and he pushed it open without hesitation. The man in a simple grey suit, sitting at a cluttered desk, glanced up, his expression wary until his eyes lit in recognition.
“Claude!” Hassan grinned, arms opening as he stood and walked closer. “It has been too long, old friend. How is Haram-“
“You fucking bastard,” he growled, and Hassan barely had time to blink before Claude had him pinned against the wall with a hand around his throat.
*