SUPERWORLD

François IV

The punch collided with François' nose, knocking the thin man off of his feet, loosing his half-smoked Gitane cigarette out of his mouth, and sending a tear-jerking sting throughout his face. He landed flat on his back, driving the wind out of him with a great oof.

François looked up at the man who had once been his friend, stout and burly, his black shirt clung tightly to his muscled body. Time had made his back stubble and neat combover become heavily flecked with grey. Remy had been a cop, then a detective, and was also a member of the GIGN, France's answer to the American S.W.A.T.

"Sous-merde pute!" Remy spit. "Get the hell out of my bar with your bullshit!" Remy said, heading through the door to his office.

François scrambled to his feet and looked around the bar, a medium-sized place with low lighting and a decent number of patrons, though not enough that the punch and yelling would go unnoticed. The hum of chatter from the patrons had stopped and all eyes were on him.

"Nothing to see here, just a friendly dispute, return to your beers, please." François chuckled.

"You have to be friends to have a friendly dispute." He heard Remy call.

François then remembered his mission and hopped over the bar and caught up to Remy just as he was about to slam the door. François put his foot between the door and the wall and the door collided with his foot.

"Mon dieu!" François cried as now a new pain was born in his foot, a sibling to the one in his face. "Be careful!" François demanded as he walked into the tiny room that he assumed Remy would call 'an office'.

"Maybe don't follow me and I won't slam doors on your feet." Remy deadpanned, taking a seat behind the desk that took up most of the space in the room with unpainted walls and no windows.

"To hell with my foot, my shoes are what I'm worried about, these are Gucci, you could have damaged them!" François complained.

"Fuck you and your knock-off shoes. Get the hell out of my office!" Remy demanded.

François took the seat across from Remy and nearly laughed when he saw the man stiffen and bristle with anger.

"Oh look, that vein still comes out of your head when I speak. But you need to listen! I need your help, this job is far too important for me to go alone."

"Oh, yes, the bullshit about the American senator." Remy rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't know what scam you've got going but it won't work on me, now—"

"Listen! A man is going to die and we can stop it! It is the duty of police officers to protect the innocent, and even though you don't have your badge anymore—" François was cut off by Remy grabbing his silk tie and using it to pull François's head full force into the hard desktop.

Then, a cold cylinder was pushed into the side of François' head and he heard an unmistakable metallic click of a safety going off.

"Don't you dare bring that up! You ruined my life and I have spent every moment since trying to fix it, you long-tongued cock sucker!" Remy growled.

"Of course! Of course! But listen, I-ow!" The gun was being pressed into his skull harder and harder. "I-uh-I know you want to get it back, and you're right, it is my fault you got fired-AHHH," François cried out as Remy forced the barrel of the gun into his skull further still, "and that's why I came here! I can fix what I ruined, imagine 'former detective Remy Lefèvre saves American senator with his psychic friend' they'll have to give you your badge back!" François pleaded.

Remy released him, and François stumbled backwards, tripping over himself and falling to the ground. Remy shook his head in disbelief.

"You're crazy, get out." Remy commanded.