France Is Beautiful This Time Of The Year


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Scene Title France Is Beautiful This Time Of The Year
Synopsis The Company, deciding one of its former agents knows too much after all, sends someone after her. Elle pleads innocence, Minea cries bullshit, and in the end, both are bleeding but Elle's triumphant.
Date June 16, 2009

A beach in Cannes, France


Raul's taken off. Leaving Minea sitting at the beachside in Cannes. The Company is a thing of the past, months ago. Back to the ISA for her and back to making ID's. Though there's a potetnial now for more, since she's proven she can handle herself in firefights. This where she prefers to be. No more US of A. The tiny cup of espresso is put down, finished, some Euro's into the folder and the brunette levers herself from out of the seat. It's a world far away from mad men blowin gup chunks of metropolitan cities, releasing virus's or even tagging a rogue evolved who's not conforming to the law, or lacking control of dangerous abilities. It's cannes, France. It's peaceful. Quiet.

Quiet is a relative term. It's still early in the afternoon, the hottest and busiest time of a tourist's day, and the sandy sprawl of the beachfront is packed with French vacation-goers in ones, twos, and larger groups. Among the relaxed and chattering mess, one lone blonde winding through it all doesn't stand out much— aside from the not-so-subtle glances that are occasionally fed her way, especially from males. The tiny woman is in a little, flowing sundress and heeled flip-flops.

She doesn't seem to be paying attention to the attention she's getting, however. In fact, she seems to be as distraught as is possible without actually breaking into a run from sheer, grim frustration. Though she's wearing sunglasses that shield her eyes from having their emotion read, one can imagine that there's something wrong. Maybe even horribly wrong.

It isn't long before Elle emerges from the beach itself, striding into the cooler shade of Minea's umbrella and halting at an abrupt distance. "Minea?" Her breathless voice has to be raised over the noise, and as she removes her sunglasses, her face is revealed to have a weak look on it. Her blonde hair tumbles around her bare shoulders. "Minea. Oh my god. Let it be you."

Has Elle - Elle Bishop - been crying? T'would appear so.

There's.. a throwback to her company days in the not too distant past. It's almost on her lips to say 'agent bishop' but at the last minute corrects herself. "Ms. Bishop?" Her own large sunglasses are smoothly lifted from off her nose to anchor at the top of her flyaway brunette hair. "What in the blazes are you doing here" She's company. Things are never what they seem with The Company. What she remembers of it. Minea still keeps her distance, stopping to pick up her tote, toss a book on artistic history into it and her glass bottled soda.

There is still that weak, pleading look in Elle's eyes, even as her gaze shifts to Minea's tote and back up to the other woman's face. She actually holds her hands in front of her once she notices signs that Minea might be leaving. "…I've been looking for you. No, stop that. I'm not here to fight." The sundress blows around her, a little.


"I don't work for them anymore. They need me, they can go through proper channels Ms. Bishop" Is Minea's fairly curt response. "I left on good terms" She was leaving anyways before the woman showed up. She studies her though, looking for signs of deception, the way the younger woman holds her body, any sign of weapons other than what she knows the agent can wield with her bare hands.

A completely humorless laugh falls from the electrokinetic's lips; she's not surprised. She lets her hands drop, smoothing the folds of her dress by her waist. "Elle. My name's Elle." Not miss Bishop. "I don't fuc- I don't care what terms you left them on. Because I don't work for them anymore, either." A newly bitter lump in her throat must be swallowed as she waits for that to sink in.

Wow. Well. Minea still stares at the woman before there's a sigh. "Why are you looking for me then?" Her towel is grabbed, as well as Raoul's who's taken off for the apartment they share. Her apartment. He'll stay there until he tires of her, or she of him. Likely her of him. "Should go find some other place to talk other than tourist central. Be thankful the hollywood starlets aren't out right now. Or there's be camera's everywhere" There's a lazy gesture for the woman to fall in beside Minea as she gestures towards the street and the Myriad of cars parked there.

When Elle looks back again, there's a sense of feeble relief present that's heartbreaking. "There's nobody I can trust," she says in half a snort as she falls into step alongside Minea, turning her cheek to hide a show of weakness. Nobody has to see her roughly rubbing away an angry tear. "Everyone I was close to. They're all tied to my dad's fingers. I had to find somebody outside - somebody who wasn't hiding. There aren't many of those."

"I don't know what you think I can help you with Elle. Just by finding me out, you may be compromising what I do out here" Across the sand they go, her voice low enough for them to hear as they make their way apart from the noisy ton. A little red Mercedes, convertible soft top beeps when she fishes in the purse for the keys. "Get in"

Elle does so obediently, biting her lip with several troubled, distracted blinks at the edge of her seat as she waits for Minea to get in on the other side. "You could- let me stay with you for a while. Look, I can pay for it; I stole some money before I left." Her blue-eyed gaze flicks directly ahead of her, into the cool sunlit sky, and stays there. "Just long enough for me to… figure things out." She sighs. If all that's true, there's nobody in the world Elle needs more right now than she needs Minea.

"I can't let you stay with me. Unlike Raoul, you know how to pick locks. I can tell him to stay the fuck out of my work room and I'm 100 percent sure that he'll stay the fuck out. You are a whole different story" Into her side she goes, keys int he column, Seat belt on and a look to Elle to do the same. "I can help you. I can give you some cash and get you set up in a Hotel room. For old times sake" The engine roars to life and Minea's busy backing out, tote tossed into the back - what there is of a back - of the car and pulls out with a reckless fashion before it roars off and away from the beach. Both hands go back on the wheel, a look in rear view mirrors, side mirrors. Paranoid Minea, as she's always been. "Last I knew Elle, your Dad was the bigwig when I left"

Elle smiles wryly in clearly pained, but understanding, response, watching Minea do her checks. "It's okay if you don't trust me. You can have me sleep in your garage, for all I care; right now anything will help." Seat belt goes -on-. Check. "Minnie… my dad was the one who told me to leave."

"Elle, I don't have A garage. I don't own a house out here. I have a two bedroom walk up, in an expensive part of town, and my car is parked elsewhere. So no, I don't have room. Unless you want to sleep on the couch, but that's where Raoul sleeps when I'm not in bed. Besides, I can't trust someone I barely knew" She points that little bit out. Her right hand slips down to the gear shift, settling it into a different gear, picking up speed. This isn't the US. This car was made to zip, and instead of driving to said two bedroom flat, she's going to drive along the coast. "Listen, I remember jack shit about what I did with them, and for good reason. I remember it being part of my leaving, so besides some place to stay, which I can find for you, what else do you need? The ISA will not be thrilled to have someone of a different agency parked on my doorstep that they didn't authorize to contact me"

At that, Elle seems to withdraw into herself a little. Becoming more meek, but brooding at the same time. Her fingers twiddle with the tiny, vertical lock-bar on the top of the door. "Anything is fine. The hotel - that's fine," she replies quietly. "Minnie, I appreciate you agreeing to help me at all. I know it's a lot to ask, but I. I just don't want to wake up in the middle of the night with a knife at the back of my head." There is definite dread there. Fear, not so thinly veiled. As anyone on the run from the Company would have a right to feel. "If your I-S-whatever asks, you can tell them I'm…nothing. A nobody. It's what I am, now."

"I highly doubt Elle Bishop, that anyone is going to get close enough to you to stab you in the back of your head" Along the road they go, making their way with tremendous speed. "Tell me what happened. Not like i'm not cleared for shit" Another shifting of gears and she switches passes the car in front of them, turn signals on to let them know and then pops back into her lane of traffic. The proper city is looming ahead and she drops her speed some, much to the annoyance of the car now behind them. "I'll set you up close and see what I can get for you for money. But why me? And how the hell did you find out where I was?"

Heh. Truth, that. "Maybe not now. But sooner or later, I'll let something slip. I can't be looking over my shoulder my entire life." Like the inconclusive conclusion of some bad horror movie: always haunted. "I wont tell you a whole lot. I don't want to put you in more danger than I have to. Basically, I screwed up a job or two of mine. And when I say screwed up, I mean the kind of damage that's beyond all possible repair. So my dad decided to let me go." Her eyes become as hard as iron, closing once or twice in involuntary response to all the reckless driving that's going on. Wheeee.

"As far as how I found you, I spent the last few, rushed minutes of my time at Primatech looking up former employees. For anyone who could help me. I maybe abused the system a little, but I found you listed as being on vacation in Cannes… and it didn't take much asking around from there." That would imply that those in power are still tracking Minea closely, even though she's no longer even working there. Naughty Company.

No surprise there. She's someone who knows about the company. Vacation though. HAH! Vacation. It's just her doing her job in some place that she'd rather do it, than in Manhattan where everywhere she turned around, things were going to hell. 'Stop at my place, I have some cash, That should tide you over. If you stick around for a day or two instead of taking off, I can make you a set of french ID's, but you should FIRST OFF, dye your god damned hair. Your a pretty woman with a distinctive face, and it'll be a little harder with non-blonde hair, really Elle, in all your time there, did you not learn the basics of disguise? Throwing people off trails? Cutting and changing the color of your hair is the second, after stop using your credit cards"

Elle's eyebrows go down a little, but her eyes stay closed for a moment longer than usual as she snorts. "I was a little rushed when I left, okay. I haven't had time yet, but I'm planning on getting to all that. I figured they'd stay and check the States first, anyway." At least she hasn't been using credit cards! It's cash that she "stole."

Hard right, not even a turn signal this time, zip down a street. Whereas it was touristville they were in, this is the more upscale part. There's cars like hers parked here and there. It's two minutes of silence till there's another abrupt pulling over in front of some airy looking multi-story buildings. "Blue one" A gesture to the blue building. "Second floor"

When Minea's car comes to a stop, Elle spends a second simply focusing on breathing out. "You are one hell of a driver. You know that, right." Nevertheless, she gets out as bidden, squinting at the stories above before starting towards the building. "So, who's the Raul guy you mentioned?" Mixed with the undeniably weak-kneed relief in her voice, there's a hint of sly, harmless curiosity as well. "Boyfriend?"

"Boy toy" Boyfriend means they're steady, committed. He's not steady, nor committed. But then, neither is Minea. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do" Hey, at least Elle didn't loose her lunch? right, that's in Germany. Across the cobblestone Minea moves, digging in her purse for her keys, despite knowing where they are. The double front doors are opened, held open for Elle to enter. Everything quiet, their footsteps resounding through the hall and up the stairs. Window sopen to let air flow through, and a glimpse of the coast in the distance through one. 306 looms ahead, four other places on this floor, and she digs a key into the knob, opening it to let Elle in.

"I like the way you think." And Elle really does. Fellow manizers for the win. She passes through the doors with a grateful glance at Minea for holding them open, waiting for her to take the lead again before she steps, hesitantly, through the threshold into room 306. "Hey. Thanks, again, for doing this for me… I'm not used to asking people for stuff like this. It kind of hurts."

It's pleasant. There's double doors that lead out onto a balcony with wicker furniture and the like. A hallways goes off to the right, towards bedrooms, a closet door to presumably put your jackets and umbrella's in. Everything's clean, lazy, like it's never been lived in. Everything for show. The door closes behind Minea, not locked and dips a hand into her purse. to presumably put the keys away as she doesn't brush past Elle bat shifts towards the hallway and away from her. "I think, Elle, your full of shit is what I think you are" Rule #1. Minea always has two guns on her unless she's absolutely butt naked. And even then, she's still got her hands. The safety is clicked off and there's a shot fired through the side of the purse towards Elle as she's dropping the bag and then making for the door at the end of the hall.

What. Bwuh. Okay, -this- takes Elle by utter surprise. There is a wild cry from her as the bullet pierces her hand, which she had luckily just moved away from the fabric of her sundress, or else it might have gone through what is beneath that, too. She stumbles as blood pools in sudden streams out of that hole, but her other hand she jerks forward, and…

ZZZZZZZZZzzzt. An unforgiving river of blue light flows outwards towards Minea's fleeing back.

Crash goes a door to the side of Minea as she throws herself past it. Her hair gets a scant taste of the charge, Static electricity making the hairs on her arms stand up. Attenhut! Electricity nearby! The blue arcs past the woman who's in a bedroom now that comments through to the other side of the apartment and the living room. Fucking Company. She left. She's kept her mouth shut. What the hell? Her bosses are going to get a mouthful for letting them find her. She crouches down, twisting her arm quickly out into the hall, firing off two shots blindly before she takes off for the other side of the bedroom, and the open door there. Make it to the living room before Elle can think to go there.

"What did I say?" Really. Elle really wants to know this, because as far as everything she had told Minea goes, it all might have been perfectly true. Neither of the blindly fired bullets find their way into Elle, but rather, bury themselves headfirst into some of the nice furniture instead. Oops.

There is another lightning bolt that streaks its way towards the ex-Company agent, with Elle, dripping a trail of small blood droplets, following slowly but menacingly after. All pretense and feigned innocence is gone. This is it; might as well sooner than later.

"Can't spook a spook bitch. I learned a lot in the company. Namely, you wouldn't remember most of everything and they don't drop you in the middle of nowhere" Another shoulder to the door and she's out into the living room of the safe house. She wasn't stupid enough to bring Elle to her place. You don't randomly stumble across someone on the beach when your looking for them. You scout them out and then stumble on them. Another shot fired off behind her as she circles into the Living room and towards the kitchen, draw the woman into a circle. Stop and wrench open a closet, grab a gun from in there before she's off. 'So what did you really come for"

"Smart girl." A predatory gleam gradually filters into Elle's eyes. Almost a laid-back, eager look. "What if I told you I left before they wiped my memory, hm? That I ran away, like I said I did?" Besides, the fact that she ended up in France is perfectly reasonable; she could've used the money she stole to purchase a plane ticket.

A long, sizzling bolt ~crashes~ into the closet before Minea can reach it, splintering the wood apart into hundreds of long stripes — several of which soon find themselves entangled in Minea's feet.

And meanwhile: "What do you think I'm here for, mm? You figured all the rest out. You can figure it out, bitch."

Shit, woman's that close already. Minea trips, a piece of wood wedging itself in between foot and sandel. She's going down so at least she's going to make it around a corner, out of sight of the blonde. "That they didn't take enough, or they need me skills for something and don't have the balls to play nice with the ISA to get me on loan. I can think of a great many things Bitch. One of those is that you're Psychotic and I did something to piss you off and your coming to play. She could go for the front door but at this rate with the gunshots and carnage, the cops will be coming, if the Company doesn't come first. Since this isn't on their usual route. Car was bugged, that's a given. Phone is signal tracked, another given. There's a wince as the older agent looks at her arm and bleeding there caused by Elle's splintering wood. Well. she could so something.

Her sandals are slipped off, a muffled thud as one is thrown towards the front door, designed to make the woman dash forward and look around the corner, or come around the corner to see if Minea made it. Her gun's aimed upwards, ready. If she's going, and she's sure that she will, she's taking that bitch with her.

"Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't fly thousands of miles overseas just for special little you." Not unless Elle was directed to, that is. An unnatural smile is still settled easily on the young woman's face, though inwardly, she's seething. This will be messy; Dad won't be happy. Somebody will have to come and clean up this mess after her, to be sure.

The bullet aimed for her shoulder doesn't hit as directly as Minea might have liked, but it does graze a good portion off her skin in a bloody spray. Same arm as Elle's already-injured hand, even. When the other woman looks downwards at her arm, distracted for that vital second, a follow-up electric bolt from Elle blasts into her…

The second bullet misses, Minea's finger pulling on the trigger again thanks to the bolt of electricity that's suddenly, or well, not so suddenly, flinging it's way through her body from the Evo woman. "Fuck" It rocks her body, causing spasms as the brunette goes down, satisfied at least that Elle's gonna be in a world of pain and there will be dues to pay for a ravaged safe house. Minea Dahl, former company agent is down for the count, her eyes closing and gun thuds down to the ground.

And Elle paces over to loom above Minea's unconscious body for a second, concentrating on getting her breathing back to normal. It's over. She is shaking vaguely, rivulets of red still running downwards; the hand of hers that remains uninjured flies into a pocket, flicking open a cell phone to make a call.

"…hey. Dad."

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