Partners in Crime (X-Men ROMY)

Chapter One

Chapter One

Remy watched with interest as the young woman across the bar hustled her third victim of the night. He had to say though, all her victims were willing.

"What do you say we make this game interesting?" the woman asked her companion as she rested her hands on the pool table and leaned forward, giving him and Remy a lovely view of her cleavage.

"Uh, what'd you have in mind?" the mark asked.

"I dunno, two hundred bucks?"

The mark hesitated for a moment, looking to his buddies for help. They simply jeered from their table, encouraging him.

"Okay, if you win, two hundred but if I win, I want something else."

The woman raised a haughty eyebrow.

Remy considered himself a connoisseur of women, but this one was hard to categorise. Her outfit was a classic tom-boy style, jeans, a purple tank top and a brown leather jacket. On her figure though, such simple dress only served to highlight her womanly assets, like her tight ass and ample chest. Unlike the average tomboy though, she wore heavy eye make-up, only saving herself from looking sluttish thanks to an almost nude shade of lipstick. Her auburn bobbed hair also had a weird dye job, with the front bleached a platinum blonde, almost white.

Remy couldn't help but wonder what she might smell like. Her clothing suggested that she'd smell of grass or engine oil or something similar, while her face suggested that she might prefer a perfume, perhaps a musky, sensual scent.

"If I win, you go on a date with me," the mark told her.

"Sorry, sugar, I ain't gonna be in town long enough."

"Then we'll go out tonight, after we finish."

Remy shook his head sadly; the boy was just too eager. He gave the impression that he'd be all over her the moment they left, and no woman wanted to be pawed at. They wanted to feel worshipped and adored, which is how Remy made them feel.

The woman seemed to hesitate for the first time, actually looking a little insecure for a second. In a blink though, that look was gone and Remy had to admire her poker face.

"Okay, as long as you're really sure you don't want my money."

The mark grinned in triumph, thinking that he had already won, then he returned to his friends at the table, trying to raise the funds for his bet, before slapping the $200 cash down on the table and picking up a cue.

"My break," the woman said, bending low over the table to shoot. No balls went in so the mark took his turn.

Unlike previous games, with the promise of a date (or at least the potential for one) the mark eyed his opponent more than he should have while he took his shot and missed. The game went back and forth for a while and they seemed pretty evenly matched. Suddenly though, despite the hustler doing everything she could to distract the mark, he pulled ahead.

Remy watched his next shot and although the alignment looked perfect to Remy, the ball veered wide of the pocket. The hustler took her turn and potted her remaining three balls, leaving only the black. The black ball looked to be aligned but she hadn't given the shot enough force and it slowed to a stop, just millimetres from the pocket. Then it seemed to regain some momentum and fell over the edge.

Remy smiled to himself, having figured out her trick. She was no great pool player, she was a mutant. Telekinetic if he wasn't very much mistaken. Much like her marks, he had been too busy watching her to pay too much attention to her technique.