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"Man, I brought the money. The exact amount you asked for. What the fuck is the problem now?" Yohji demanded, taking a long drag off his cigarette to cover the fact that he was looking for exits. This mission wasn't going the way it should.

The individual he was talking to gave a bit of a none-too-kind smile, "There's this little problem concerning your... references?" Yohji slammed his briefcase on the table, thumbed the latches and opened it savagely. Row upon row of neat green bills lay there. "Here's my goddamn references."

Off to the side, a door opened, one that Yohji hadn't noticed until now. Through the portal stepped a man in a long, black trenchcoat. He wore sunglasses, ripped jeans, a button up silk shirt, and a pair of gloves that were missing the thumbs, first, and last fingers. He moved into the room to stand beside the man who was giving Yohji the headache of his life, "Everyt'ing okay, Mr. Lanton?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. LeBeau," the weapons dealer said, "Our friend here seems to have a bunch of counterfeit references."

Yohji spared a glance at the newcomer. Hired muscle. He ignored him for the moment. He had enough weapons hidden on him that he wasn't worried. He looked over his sunglasses at Lanton. "Excuse me? My money isn't good enough for you now? It's real, I assure you. Check it." Yohji hooked his thumbs in his low-slung jeans and put on a relaxed air.

From where he stood, Remy LeBeau eyed the young man before them. Eurasian. Carried himself easily. Dangerous. He'd learned how to identify those types during his long years with the Thieves' Guild and his time with the X-Men. He flicked his hidden eyes down at the briefcase, noting all the bills, filing away the fact that they were all real. He threw his long, chestnut ponytail over his shoulder and let a deck of cards fall into his hand. Something about this kid spelled trouble... with a capital T.

Lanton looked down at the displayed cash, "I'm not worried about the money. I'm worried about the fact that, Mr. Ellison, who you claim sent you, was picked up by Interpol just earlier this week." He stepped back, to a spot just behind the bodyguard he'd brought with him, "I must say that the coincidence is unfortunate."

"I can't help that Ellison is an idiot who got sloppy," snarled Yohji. The idiot couldn't even stand up for himself, he needed to stand behind his bodyguard. Not that he would mind the man guarding *his* body, his ever-present libido supplied. "I only met him once." This was getting worse and worse. Yohji started calculating the odds of getting his money back and running. Manx would kill him if he left the money with nothing to show for it.

Shuffling the cards with one hand, Remy took the cigarette out of his mouth with the other, "'Fraid your money's no good here, pretty boy... Might want t' get out while de gettin's good."

"No," Lanton said from behind him, "Kill him, LeBeau."

Remy threw a glance over his shoulder, "I never said I was gonna kill for you... Jus' said I'd guard you..." He shook his head, "You not payin' dis swamp rat enough to kill..."

Yohji snorted and said, "You're fucked, Lanton," and he reached for the briefcase as he dropped to the floor, rolling under the table and away from the pair.

Regardless of whether or not the kid needed to die, Remy did have a cover to maintain. He moved forward, slipping the cards into his sleeve while his other hand came out from the small of his back with his staff. He snapped it out, to its full length, and used it to knock the table over, revealing the young man, "Don' get paid 'nough to kill you, but dat don' mean I can't rough you up some for bein' stupid..."

"You can try, sweets," Yohji laughed as he pulled a small smoke bomb from his jacket, setting it off as he threw it. He used the cover to scramble to his feet, deciding what door to go for.

Using his agility, Remy leapt up, climbing over some boxes nearby so that he could keep track of the youth. The kid was good, he had to admit... Not quite as good as the thief, but skilled enough to get the job done. He stealthily tracked Yohji from high ground, watching each move the blond made, weighing him carefully. Something about the boy intrigued him.

Lanton dug into his pocket and pulled out a cellular phone, "Send them in... kill everyone here!" Then, the dealer disappeared through a different doorway.

"Shit!" whispered Yohji as he heard the call. Looks like even the bodyguard got doublecrossed. Lanton was some piece of work. He made it another 5 feet toward the door.

Remy kept tailing the kid, noting how he made sure of his path even with the thick smoke. Something outside caught his eye and he turned his head to take a look. A group of men were moving towards the warehouse and they were carrying some heavy weaponry for just a bunch of hired thugs. The situation had just changed. While he valued his own skin, he also couldn't let the not completely experienced youth get killed. Making his choice quickly, the Cajun flung himself from the top of the boxes and directed his body towards Yohji.

The collision knocked the blond out of the way as the door slammed open and live fire sprayed into the room.

Yohji saw something coming toward him and rolled, but not enough. The bodyguard knocked the wind out of him but he came up fighting, elbow leading, aimed at the man's trachea. With his other hand he reached for his wire.

Catching the youth's elbow, Remy tossed his sunglasses off, "Get your ass down, mon ami, and you jus' might keep it intact!" He met the blond's gaze with his mutant eyes - almost solid black with crimson red irises. Just the sight of them alone was usually enough to shock compliance out of most people.

"What the fuck~" Yohji started to yell, but his voice was drowned out by the deafening sound of automatic gunfire. He ducked his head down instinctively. But he had looked into the man's eyes for a moment, and he must have hit his head or something, because no one had eyes like that.

Remy turned around, convinced of the young man's compliance. Pulling his deck of cards, he gave a bit of a wolfish grin, "Well, mes hommes, we gon' play..." He threw himself to the side, avoiding more bullets, and came up with two glowing cards between his fingers, "I t'ink 'War' appropriate, no?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he launched one of the kinetically charged objects at a couple of the men, watching as they went flying from the explosion caused.

"Shit! Who the fuck are you?" Yohji said, while pulling out his own weaponry. He pulled the pin on a stun grenade and tossed it as far as he could. They were behind a low divider, but... "Cover your ears and eyes!" he shouted, and started to count softly. `15, 14...'

Flipping backwards, the Cajun shot out with another charged projectile, and then somersaulted over the divider to land gracefully beside the blond. He gave the younger man a roguish grin, "Don' like de game dey playin', no?"

"Sorry, but I don't feel like playing any more games," Yohji muttered and made a run for the exit. He was thankful to the strange man for the dubious help, but he didn't feel like waiting around to chat.

Up and after the fleeing blond, Remy smiled and dove through the door behind him just as the grenade went off. He rolled to his feet, whipped out his pack of cigarettes, and looked down at the young man still sprawled on the ground, "You 'kay?"

Yohji sprang to his feet, glaring at the man. "Whatever." He patted his pockets looking for his own cigarettes. "Fuck." He must have lost them inside.

The strange man shook two out, "Here." He put the smoke to his lips and lit it, inhaling the first drag with a sound that was akin to a moan, "Dis job sucked anyway. Merci, if I had t' stay one more day in dat hole, I'd have gone nuts. 'Course, dis means dat I've got t' find a diff'rent way into de inner circle..."

Yohji accepted the cigarette; he couldn't remember when he'd needed one more. "What do you want with them?" He jerked his head toward the warehouse.

The Cajun fixed his black and red eyes on the young man, "T' take 'em out. Don' 'ppreciate what dey did to a friend of mine." He took another drag and looked around, "Dey brought you here, oui? You need a ride somewhere?"

Yohji looked the man up and down appraisingly. True, he was stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no vehicle, but... could he trust the guy? His body was incredible, but Yohji was no slouch either... his mind slid toward the inevitable, and he realized he was checking the man out. "Why not?" No sense in walking...

A grin formed on Remy's lips, "Like what you see, mon ami?" He took a moment to really look at the kid. Honey colored hair, lovely green eyes - he stopped himself from thinking of who *else* had green eyes, tall and willowy... The young man could definitely turn heads no matter where he went.

Kind of like him.

Ah, the direct type. Yohji could deal with that. "Not bad," he allowed. "Though you're older than my usual..." He tossed his hair out of his eyes casually, looking the man straight in his unusual eyes.

Chuckling, the Cajun started off towards his motorcycle, "Come on, den... My bike's dis way." Luckily, he'd taken his own ride to the warehouse. That was one of the reasons why he'd been late for the meeting.

Yohji followed behind, smirking. Adrenaline always made him horny... and the man did have an incredible ass... "Lead the way."

"By de way," Remy said as they reached the vehicle, "De only reason I look older is 'cause I forgot t' shave. When I do, I don' look much older dan you..." He swung his leg over the seat of the bike and started it. "You jus' tell Remy where t' take you."

"Where are you headed?" Yohji asked as he swung onto the bike behind the man. He deliberately slid as close as he could behind him.

"I got a place in Shinjuku," Remy said off-handedly. He felt the lithe body press against his back and smirked, "But I can get dere easy after I take you where you need t' go."

"Shinjuku is fine, I'll catch a train," Yohji leaned forward to yell over the roar of the bike. No need to tell Remy all his secrets.

As they roared down the road, the Cajun tilted his head back so that he could be heard, "You know any place dat a swamp rat can get some *good* food 'round here? Need somet'ing spicy or I t'ink I'm gonna starve."

Yohji laughed. "I know just the place." He told him how to get there, as he slid his hands around the man's waist. `Nice, hard abs... watch it, Yohji, you don't even know which way the nice man swings,' he told himself.

Shaking his head minutely, Remy reached into his trench and took out his back up pair of sunglasses, "Merci, mon ami. You save a man's life wit' your kind direction." Putting them on, he smiled at the tight grip around his waist, "Know any good clubs 'round here?"

Ah, an opening... "What kind of club were you looking for?" He said in the best suggestive tone he could manage at that volume.

"I'm easy," Remy said, not thinking, "Someplace dat has lots o' nice t'ings t' look at."