L'halloween: Trick or Target?

It had been several days since Marty's arrival in Paris and rather than fly home the very next morning, Marty found himself putting off his return till the weekend, and then putting it off again thanks to the surprise October snow storm that Mother Nature had decided to drop on the Northeast of the United States. This resulted in the closing of JFK, LaGuardia and Newark Airports, among others. It also meant that flights would be crowded and fought for during the days that the airports first reopened between those who had been stranded because of cancellations and those who were already scheduled to fly those days. Marty was in no rush, so he just put off getting his ticket for the return trip for now.

Not that he was in a rush as he found Paris a wonderful place to visit just for the chance to relax and enjoy this trip with no work constraints and deadlines and the Louvre nearby as well as one or two occasional chats over coffee with Dominic since that night. He had not asked if Dominic had learned anything more as he figured if the man did and if he wanted Marty to know he would tell him but they did have some good discussions over various topics that were both interesting and challenging. Sometimes the pair agreed, sometimes they agreed to disagree, respecting each other's opinions.

Marty had not thought about the fact that Halloween was coming until the Saturday morning before, as he was heading out for a walk along the Left Bank and the hotel concierge inquired as to whether he would be at the Gala the hotel was holding Monday night for their guests. Informing the man that he had no costume with him, considering Marty had to purchase a few changes of clothes for his stay, the ever-efficient concierge immediately proved his worth by coming up with several ideas and the pair settled (read that: the concierge assured and would not take no for an answer that with his hair slicked back and tied in the manner of the time period) on the fact that Marty would make a worthy Phantom of the Opera and that if Monsieur would pick up a mask and shirt while he was out, moi would definitely be able to obtain and appropriate cape and tuxedo for Marty.

Which is how The Phantom aka Marty ended up partaking of his evening meal at the hotel gala and sitting sipping wine listening to the music the house band was playing for those who desired to dance. The decor was white, all white and the hotel had even found white pumpkins to decorate the tables and buffets with. For some reason, it kept making Marty think of Fifi. He had not heard from her since their scene in the airport and wished she'd at least come by to tell him off so he could manage to get in an apology, even if she never wanted to see him again. So much for feeling the party spirit.

However, there were a few hotel guests he had gotten to know and part of the evening was spent in conversation with them before they went on their own ways. A little before midnight, Marty went to his room and discarded the cape and mask onto the bed, jacket as well and took up a book he had with him to read. Unfortunately, his mind wandered and focusing on the book was not happening. Stepping out on the balcony, he found the night air to be cool and crisp so he went back in and retrieved the jacket and made his way out into the night streets of Paris.

Funny thing about Paris, walking around in a formal tuxedo was not odd as all sorts were out and about. With that, Marty just walked, exploring the city as he let his mind wander where it wanted to, not that he expected to run into the focus of those thoughts. He knew she was actually back in the states, Dominic had informed him of that much.

It had not been easy for them to finally locate the target but locate him they did though none could figure out why a Muggle was so important to their boss even if he had worked for her. But, knowing her temper, none of them were going to be idiotic or suicidal enough to ask her. The night was crisp and clear so they had had no trouble keeping an eye on the man once he left the security of his hotel. Now you would think that in a formal dress tails, their target would be rather distinctive but this was Paris where casual mingled with formal at all hours of the night. Fortunately, he merely seemed to be strolling at a slow pace, as if thinking. Not that that last part mattered to the team, all that mattered was they could keep up with him until orders were given, if any.

Currently, it was just two of them on duty, keeping their distance from the target and each other to prevent detection as the target made his way to the Left Bank. The pair were glad about this as it was not uncommon to pick up the morning paper and read of people who accidentally as well as 'accidentally' slipped and fell into the Seine, drowning before anyone realized. Not that it was determined that was going to be their course of action tonight, that rested on the orders they received once the boss was notified of the fact they had finally located the target.

Taking out the Muggle iPhone he carried, Michel called said boss and informed her as soon as she answered that:

"Nous l'avons trouvé. Que souhaitez-vous fait ?" A pause to listen. "Oui, il est seul." Another longer pause before he responds, "Oui." Michel gave his signal to his partner that he would going in so that his partner, Don would cover him should anything go wrong, not that they expected it since, after all it was merely another stupid Muggle. Michel walked for a while waiting for the right time and when it came, made his way to where the target was.

Approaching the man who was leaning on the railing of one of the bridges that crossed the Seine, Michel spoke, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Parlez-vous français ?" Upon receiving an affirmative that he did, Michel continued. "Mme McQueen souhaite transporter à vous qu'elle veut que vous retourniez à votre position. Elle était bouleversée que matin et n'a pas voulu dire pour te mettre le feu. Vous retournerez, immédiatement. Non ?"

Ms. McQueen wishes to convey to you that she wants you to return to your position. She was upset that morning and did not mean to fire you. You will return, immediately. No?

Marty's thoughts continued on as he wandered along the Rive Gauche. He kept feeling as if he should have had time to say... What exactly? He had been having a strange feeling all evening as if it was coming hear time to say good bye but to who? Fifi? He had thought that pretty much happened at the airport considering the way things had gone from a bit confused to a massive downhill avalanche of a mess. Honestly, he truly did not want to say good bye to her. Nor to Dominic for he found him to be someone he could consider a friend of sorts. Marty had to laugh at himself and thought that it sounded like he was being rather foreboding about things, rather illogically so it seemed.

He sighed as he walked, wondering when in the world had he turned into such a 'Mr. Spock' where there had to be a logic to everything. No wonder Fifi considered him boring and yet, Marty could see logic in things. Sometimes there was not actual proof but there was always a reason, an explanation and a logic to why things happened. Just like that room Dominic had mentioned. At first hearing, yes it would sound far fetched and laughable which is exactly why Marty did not answer immediately. He wanted to get past initial typical reaction and truly consider it. The idea actually rather fascinated him and he had to admit he'd already spent odd moments wondering how would it be possible and then would it be possible to decrease walking while increasing 'travel time' for lack of a better word for it.

Coming to a stop on one of the bridges, Marty looked out over the Seine and smiled. The night was still beautiful and lights reflected off the water. Music and laughter could be heard coming from a barge docked along the river where revelers still celebrated in the now wee hours of the night. He continued to just watch and listen until a voice broke into his thoughts.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur. Parlez-vous français ?"

"Oui," he responded, wondering what the man wanted. Directions perhaps, though as the voice continued, Marty felt himself stiffen at the sound of a familiar name.

"Mme McQueen souhaite transporter à vous qu'elle veut que vous retourniez à votre position. Elle était bouleversée que matin et n'a pas voulu dire pour te mettre le feu. Vous retournerez, immédiatement. Non ?"

He remained quiet for a bit, still looking out at the river and finally turned to face the man. "Vous pouvez dire Mme McQueen qu'elle peut prendre son travail et le pousser" Marty responded calmly. He did not feel in any danger at the moment since he knew Dominic's man was somewhere near. What Marty did not know was that at the moment, Dominic's agent on duty was currently involved in a duel several blocks away with Donald.

Rut roh?

The man across from Marty did flinch just a bit at the phrasing of Marty's response, already making a mental edit of how he would relay it to McQueen. However, he wanted to give Marty a fair chance to make a choice that would be to Marty's benefit, so he replied, "Peut-être vous avez mal compris monsieur, elle souhaite que vous à retourner à l'emploi là et là ne soyez aucune pénalité au-dessus des événements qui se sont produits. Il sera comme si vous n'êtes jamais parti. Elle vous souhaite pour retourner."*

However, it seemed no matter how he worded it, Martin Harper's mind was not going to be changed and so Michel drew his wand, apologizing slightly, "Je suis désolé vous le sentir qui manière, monsieur. Au revoir"**




* Perhaps you misunderstood sir, she wishes you to return to employment there and there would be no penalties over the events that occurred. It will be as if you never left. She wishes you to return.

**I am sorry you feel that way, sir. Goodbye

No, Marty had not misunderstood at all what the man was asking and when the man reissued the request a second time, Marty sighed before answering. "Peut-être, je ne me suis pas fait l'espace libre," he said, "Dites McQueen de prendre son travail et de le pousser vers le haut de son âne."*

Marty had figured that would make it perfectly clear and apparently he was right as the man drew a stick from his jacket and somewhere in his mind the thought of how that's really useful compared to a Beretta wandered through and the sound of Fifi's voice saying this was not one of those movies. It's funny how fast things can flash in your memory when you're standing in a life or death situation, even if you don't realize you are quite yet. The memory of Fifi's comment was quickly replace by the one of Dominic saying that people died and just as fast, scenes from the night of the rally came to the forefront including one Marty did not even know he had. She held a stick and light flashed.

Marty began trying to figure out whether it would be good to run as the man told him good bye. He also resisted the urge to roll his eyes and tell this guy this was not one of those movies. Apparently, even magicians or whatever this guy was watched them too because he sure was acting like he was in one with that last line. Things began happening in rapid fire at that point.

Michel began to yell "Kedavra d'a........"

Someone else yelled "Martin, saut!"

Marty, simply responded with "oh chié ..."** as he went over the railing of the bridge, heading down feet first toward the Seine River below. He closed his eyes in preparation for the plunge underwater that would come as he made plans to take about a dozen showers after getting out of the water, if he survived. But instead there was suddenly a loud crack and someone grabbed him under the arms which resulted in an immediate crack again.

When it was all over, Marty found himself back in his room, keeling over with his stomach in upheavels and Victor Vincent, Vincent Vincent's twin brother, standing over him assuring it would pass. "I am sorry... it was the only way I could get to you in time..."

"Thanks... and someone better be ready to explain what just happened?" Marty asked, still a bit green around the gills from the sudden and unexpected first time experience of side along apparition.



*Perhaps, I did not make myself clear, he said. Tell McQueen to take her job and shove it up her ass
**oh shit