LeBlanc / 5 - flight

[qdesjardin]

5 – flight

The trip to the Charlton Best Western Hotel, it only takes around 40 minutes to reach. The entirety of the Black Rose have managed to leave before the police have arrived (thanks to a clause in their performing contract, which guarantees absences from these sorts of situations, where normally they're expected to stay for questioning).

They have their own rental limousine – the chaffeur was happily watching 'Robert Langdon Mysteries' on the petite screen, a syndicated episode playing late-night, when Swain radioed in for him to start the limo.

Inside, Renton gets what looked like apprehension from Swain and Twisted Fate; the interior of the limo is surprisingly spacious, where the seats are arranged such that everyone has leg room – it was more like a casual couch meeting than just some night ride in a car. And there's free cola from the dispensers, with ice! Mira, he's so parched after performing, he helps himself to a full glass which he gulps down in just two whole chugs. Then he burps plenty.

"Who're you?" Swain goes. "And why will you be tagging along with us?"

"I told you, that's Renton--" Heimerdinger begins.

"I know, I want to hear it from the boy himself."

Renton exchanges glances with the more friendlier members, like Lulu and LeBlanc, before he clears his throat. "I'm Renton Thurston," he says, like he's being judgmentally interviewed. "I watched your whole show – and I'm no fanboy or anything."

"Mhm," Swain goes, leaning in, his hands clasped.

"I.. I--" It almost seems like Swain is glancing through Renton's eyes, into his own skull – quite intimidating. "I don't have anywhere else to go. I have a home, with a mother, but it is complicated.." And Renton managed to get his story out in spurts, hoping that Swain wouldn't go into disbelief.

"Renton.." Swain says, after listening. "I want you to understand something. We are a dangeous group."

"I heard all the stories of the magicians-- they do crime and stuff--"

"Yes. What we do beyond the boundaries of stage performances, not all of it is savoury. And when I say 'dangerous,' I mean that we place our own lives at risk. Because of what we do. You were only a few steps away from the attempt on my life, you saw." Swain scratches at his shoulder.

All the sights of Vancouver's streets pass by out the windows, the white lamplights illuminating and casting shadows which waver in cyclic, repetitive motion in the cabin. Seldom does Renton ever get to see this part of the city in the night, the business districts – on earlier occasions perhaps, when his father took him out along to the restaurants to discuss some business with collegues. It brings back a few memories, Renton just savouring the smell of fresh seafood with cigarette smoke, brewed tea, and the slightly chilled air.

He's not going to be in Kansas anymore.

"We are in constant struggle against other magician groups," Swain continues. "And the reality which you are about toindulge in with all of us is without any guarantee of hope, promise, or even happiness. There are no promises that tomorrow will be a relaxing day, or that you'll even live to see tomorrow, for Death and Loss can wait around at any corner, at any wrong turn you make. I've seen first-hand members of the Black Rose die, or they lose emotional grip, or carelessly get caught out by the authorities or other groups.. that in which case, I have little choice but to retire their membership.

"I tell you this now, because you are still such a young boy Renton.. you are 17 years of age, and you still have the chance to lead a peaceful life, without any repercussion from your involvement. A life of mundane, yet bountiful moments.. maybe you'll meet a nice girl in college, and you can marry, have children, graduate with a degree and greet every morning day without terrible strain.

"Because if you do decide to stay with us, there will be no turning back." Swain nods,notioning at LeBlanc. "She was the one who lured you into our business."

And LeBlanc simply glances at Renton, in contemplation.

Under this sort of light, she looks a little weary and tired, in contrast with the dazzling stage persona Renton witnessed earlier.

"It's not like I have much left for me at home anyways.." Renton goes, catching her perfume once more. He really wants to see what she's like, behind that mask, up-closer.

"Don't you be so hasty to say that," Swain goes. "Because you've never really known a dangerous life.. it is like with all those young people throughout history, and they want to go to war, away from home, wanting the glory and excitement of violence.. and before they know it, it is too late – the old have sent their young into misery.."

"Swain—" LeBlanc intervenes. "I too had nothing left to turn to.." (Maybe for some people, life doesn't have much meaning without a real risk of death.)

"But you were truly desperate then, LeBlanc," Swain goes. "What Renton has can just as easily be fixed; we can clear his house arrest record and explain that he's been helping us out at the circus – there, all done!"

But Renton is shaking his head. "No.. I don't want to go back. I.. my life is so dull, it's like passively riding along the currents, and I'm not even allowed to do much about it. If you send me back home.. you might as well be leaving me for dead."

"I reckon," Twisted Fate goes, flicking his Joker card in his fingers. "You've got the spirit kid. You're a hustler. The cards life had dealt you with, they're okay, but neither is it goin' to take you high places. And you don't have to like it."

He tosses the Joker card to Renton, who barely catches it – the card is sturdy, feeling just like the usual playing card. It has a dark, gemstone back, with the Joker looking like he's having a wild time juggling balls.

"The card you've got now kid," Twisted Fate goes, "in some games, it's the most worthless of the deck. But in other games, it's the winning ticket. And in some cases, when you aren't allowed to change your hand, just change the game you're playing. In our game, it's all or nothing, everyday. In our game – you just might be someone."

Renton glances at the Joker, whose grinning gaiety seems to tug somewhere inside him. He hands it back--

"No no, you keep that one; I've got plenty of spares," Twisted Fate goes.

Then Renton tucks it in his pockets.

"So, you're deciding to linger with us?" Swain asks – while Lulu is giving his spindly fingers a manicure.

"Yeah."

"I'll have to arrange for one more plane ticket then, and on such short notice! We're taking off for Montreal. I think it's time we paid our rivals a visit.. maybe a chat about those arrows meant for me."

"Who..?" Renton goes.

"Team ROCHAT," Heimerdinger says.

"Sorries.. I haven't been keeping up with the whole magician gig – I've only decided to see your show a few months ago.."

"It's alright. Anyways – Team ROCHAT, they're our official rivalry. We've been knee-deep in business with them ever since the first year they formed, back in 1996. They wanted to be the forefront of French wizardry, and they've taken potshots against us along the years."

LeBlanc is sitting with her arms crossed, her eyes somewhat disinterested in hearing about them.

"So those arrows.. came from that team?" Renton goes.

"Most likely," Swain goes. "Maybe not. Tonight, we took an artefact from the art museum, just before the show you've watched. It's quite valuable for us, and luckily I've had the foresight to secure a showing the day they put the Xephon egg on public display – before anyone else did. Before Team ROCHAT.. they also wanted the egg too, quite badly in fact, and if it weren't for swift arrangements with the circus, it would have been them you'd be watching tonight."

Renton scratches his head. "I'm a little.. lost. You guys are actually here for the egg?"

"Oui," Swain says. "That, and the benefit of visiting a city that's never seen any magicians in more than 20 years. This is your first time that you've ever seen a live performance.."

"I've only thought magicians were just a sham," Renton goes, finishing up his bottle of pop. "People who just put up special effects so they can take everyone's attention. And also jerks too in that they steal, conspire and even kill.."

"Special effects?" LeBlanc goes. "Well, there are still some people who'd like to think so – the thought of all that magic, actually existing, it overwhelms their petite sensibilities. The skeptics who'd also enjoy debunking UFOs and Fortune Tellers. The UFOs, I'm not so sure of that myself. But magic.."

She nods at Lulu, who pulls out a blank white bunny from her pouch.

"Hiya there!" Lulu goes. She waves her hand, and gives the bunny a tap on its head – poofing it into a chipmunk. "Now you'd better call him 'Alvin!'"

"Whooaw.." Renton's mouth is gaping open. This isn't on the stage.. it's inside a limo.

"For someone like me," LeBlanc says, "my own abilities are.. I cannot demonstrate it right now, without great inconveinence. But trust me when I say that I can take you virtually anywhere you can see – the shorter the distance, the less taxing it will be on me. As well as extinguish your life in one small instant." She snaps her fingers. "Just like that. It's not a nice thing to do, you can imagine."

And Renton thinks he can see a ghostly copy of LeBlanc, floating mere inches from her, overlapping her actual form, before he just sees her, nonchalantly sitting beside Swain.

"Heimerdinger – check the news," Swain goes. "See if ROCHAT's hired a new member or not; someone who looks good with ranged weaponry. As far as I know, their current batch of bums aren't the sort for stealthy finesse.. they usually like to make a grand entrance, almost every single time.."

/

When they arrive at the hotel, Swain tells the limo driver to remain idling by the entrance doors – much of their gear and equipment have already been loaded in the trunk, and they're just grabbing what is left from their rooms.

"I want to call my mom back at home," Renton tells, notioning at one of the public phones. "Damn, I should have gotten my cell phone from that usher.. he took it in the show." His mum doesn't have an e-mail address he can think of, so, and it doesn't feel right for him to suddenly abandon his mother like that, without any word. She's probably still sleeping from the pills.

"Make it quick – we don't have a lot of time," LeBlanc goes, giving Renton a reassuring nudge on his shoulder, before she heads down the halls with the others.

So Renton proceeds to dial his home phone--

"Excuse me, sir?" the receptionist goes. "Have you booked a room here yet?"

"Oh, no – I'm just here to call someone--"

"The phone's only for staying customers; besides, a young man like you ought to have a cell phone handy.."

How it makes Renton sigh. The ability to communicate over long distances, it's almost become a human right in itself, and now he isn't allowed to use the phone here – even if it's only for one last call.

If not the hotel's phone, then, maybe LeBlanc or the others with her would have a cell phone.

"Aahh, forget it," he tells the receptionist, before LeBlanc appears with a suitcase and purse in tow; Heimerdinger has several duffel bags, and Lulu is hauling a sleek box – it's ornamented with white jewels across the top, with a fleur-du-lis embedded on the top's centre.

"Hey LeBlanc--" Renton comes walking along with her. "You got a cell phone?"

"What for?"

"I need to call my mum at home – I can't leave her without any explanation, she'll freak!"

So Heimerdinger pulls out a spare phone from one of his pockets. A Nokia, without any pass screen, just for the occasion if someone needs another phone.

"Oh, thanks--" Renton dials his home, and it rings for a couple of times. Then it's the answering machine. "Hello." (It's his mum's voice.) "You've reached the Thurston household, but we're not available right now. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you shortly! *beep*"

"Hey mama.." he begins.

Now they're walking out to the limo, and already LeBlanc and the others are packing their stuff into the trunk. Renton feels somewhat bare, carrying nothing except the clothes on him already. Maybe they could be nice enough to have him get more clothes and belongings of his own.

"I'm going away on a trip with the Black Rose societie," he says, getting back into the limo. "By the time you hear this message, I'll be long gone across the world. It's something I could have never dreamed of in a hundred years. They'll help take care of me – it's not kidnapping if you're asking; I simply don't want to face another dull, boring school year while being stifled at home. I'll promise to call home whenever I can.. and you have my e-mail address, I think.."

Then the phone line clicks – someone has picked up the receiver. "Mister Thurston," a strange voice goes. "Stay on the line please. This is Officer Jennings, and we're at your household right now. You said you're with the Black Rose societie? Where are you currently at? Can you tell me?"

Renton freezes. It's the damned police! What are they doing at his home? He shudders, trying to think of an answer. M. Fourier must have ratted on him back at the circus..

"Hello? Renton?" the officer goes. "You're supposed to be under house arrest, didn't you know? What did you do with your ankle bracelet?"

LeBlanc notices his hand quivering on her phone, before he decides to quickly hang up and hand it back to her like it's a hot potato.

"What's the matter?" she asks him, wiping it free of his fingerprints.

".. the police are at my house," he goes.

"You didn't tell them where we're going next.." LeBlanc is musing, then asks Swain, "We'll be out of Canada after Montreal?"

"Las Vegas," Swain goes. "Ours should be a low-profile stay in Montreal – they're not expecting our visit there, so next time people hear of us, you should be out of Canadian jurisdiction Renton.. at least over something as miniscule as punching your teacher."

"Yeah.." Renton feels a little better now, but the thought comes to him he's still in trouble while in this city. I'll never be able to go home again.. and my mum's going to think I'm a scoundrel.

"Are you worrying that the police will be after you?" Swain goes. "Unless it is a serious crime, like murder or grand robbery, they'll forget you over the months. They have limited time and resources on their hands, and the police tend to be more eager with solving major crimes, rather than petty grievances."

"Yippy!" Lulu squeaks, petting Renton's hair. "Renny! I will call you that! You could make a nice boy toy! The meanie police won't chase you – I'll zap away whoever comes. Here's my dearest Pixy.. my faerie butterfly, I'll show him to you.."

And soon, the limo is at the airport. It drives past the usual drop-off zone, right into the airfield where all the jets are parking and taking off.

Renton's been here only a few times, while his father was still alive. He'd wave goodbye as his dad Adroc hauled his black luggage into the terminals, going off on another business trip somewhere. He's never had the opportunity to travel himself though, so he's feeling very eager inside, like he's going to lurch off the top of a roller-coaster ride, down into a rush.

They're at a private hangar; it's meant for the aircraft not covered under the official flight manifests. Like the Black Rose's concorde.

When Renton gets out, he hears the low hum of the engines, the plane idly waiting. The steps leading into the cabin, where everyone hauls their luggage inside as carry-on.

He waits until everyone else boards, before he takes his last steps from Vancouver soil.

And inside, the cabin is very pleasing to the eye. The art nouveau design on the seats, the tables – the lamplights and the carpet that leads over to the drinking bar; the mood of it all is very.. absorbingly contemplative. It's a nice place to be in whilst the plane is alone in the air.

Sitting at the bar, Twisted Fate pulls out a victory cigar and lights it, puffing, and he breathes out and fills the air around him with the burning incense of appleweed.

Renton finds a seat by LeBlanc, where she's by a window in the middle of the cabin, and straps himself in with the belts. He notices her, staring out at the brightly hangar – her eyes withdrawn.

"Please prepare yourselves, as we are about to begin taking off."

A chime.

It's the humdrum of everyone else being preoccupied in the background, while Renton is alone with this one interesting girl-- no, woman.

Now he's justified it to himself in all sorts of ways. Maybe this isn't such a big deal, just a mild betrayal of the whole stable, cyclic lifestyle of school and studies and leisure time. It's him outgrowing being just a child, you know, that sort of thing. But let's face it, he's running away, abandoning everyone he once knew.

His mum – he hopes she can cope being just by herself, lonesome in the house, toiling away with the usual chores.

(The plane starts to plow forward, leaving the hangar.)

The people at school, well.. some of them would just as well be taking this very chance he's having.

And Fabrizio? Well, okay, he's going to miss him dearly. He's quite a nice pal, Fabrizio. It would have been so dreadfully dull if it weren't for him.

(The night sheens through the window, the runway strip lights, all aligning down a path. Renton thinks he can make out the dawn, just very faint over the sky.)

So why did Renton do it? He can offer a million answers, all false.

(And the tinge of melancholy, reflected in LeBlanc's face from the window. Renton behind her.)

The truth is that he's a flower, starved of real sunlight. But that's about to change. He's going to change. The rest of life is ahead of him now, and it's the last of him being a hapless child, sticking with routine. Now he's going straight and moving on.

And a beat, as he hears-- no, feels the impending roar of the engines, the plane on the starting line, taking its poise, before at last it accelerates, forward and forward, and the lurch almost feels too much to bear as Renton finds himself holding onto LeBlanc's hand, clutching it dearly, some of the appliances rattling with the motions as Twisted Fate tosses his used cigar into the wastebasket, a perfect hit--

He's looking forward to it all already.

The skies, the adventures, the risks of life and death, the real choices he'll have to face – the lavish stays as each day of his life holds surprises and suspense, the joys of being a real man as he explores new locales, attending the stages and performances and ravishing in the magic of people's disbelief, ready to explore a whole new world and culture hitherto unknown to his apprehension. The lush hotels, the queen beds, the exquisite cuisine of exotic foods, the new places.. new people, new moments..

It could be just like in the anime shows..