InsaneJournal

Who: Fleur^thg & Josie^squib
What: Bill's wives meet!
When: Monday morning (MONDAYS, AMIRIGHT?)
Where: Outside by the grocery store
Warnings: Language, violence, things.
Status: Complete


The party was like any other party thrown by Healy himself. She had greeted James a few days prior with a mark and not much else. She was to come up with her own plan, which was simple enough really. Opinions against the games and how the rest of the world was treated had been growing strong within the Capitol. They were typically the same marks. Wealthy. Semi-powerful, or at least had enough power to gather a decent sized following. It was her duty to intercept and eliminate. Nothing more. The next two days were spent getting her gown ready. Fleur had her mother design the dress, her father setting in beautiful stones around her waist. Neither parent knew what Fleur actually did. They were easy to fool. As the 92nd Healy Games Victor, Fleur was popular in the Capitol and to be invited to such a party was nothing out of the ordinary.

Grand, overdone, and filled beyond capacity; Fleur mingled with the crowds. She was never too far from her mark, watching who he spoke to. The way in which he leaned in to certain people and conversated with others intrigued the young woman. Perhaps this man was more bold than the others, or possibly more stupid than the rest. Recruiting at a Healy gala? Or perhaps he was just close to these people. In all actuality, Fleur never knew the real reason why she was to execute these people. Reasons were given but for all she knew, they could have been lies. It was a very real possibility that not even Fleur would doubt. The mark began to move, excusing himself from his newly acquainted guests. All she needed was for him to be on his own, for her to just have one moment alone. Getting rid of the body was easy enough, it was completing the mission that required skill.

Following the man down the hall, only a few paces behind, Fleur found herself in a very white room as she turned the corner. Fear ripped right through her. She stood there, completely frozen. Someone introduced themselves as her scientist, greeting them in the same manner as if she had been selected for another Game. Her head whipped around, looking for the man she was supposed to kill. There was no one but this scientist. A test. A game. A set-up. As the door opened before her, she was told she was free to go.

Hands clutched the young Frenchwoman's dress as she ran away from her Scientist, or so they called themselves. It was a set up. It had to be. Fleur ran her mission in her mind over and over again, wondering what she had missed. Why would Healy want her killed? Why now? Or had she been selected for another Healy game that had not yet been disclosed to the world . How could she trust them? She was kidnapped for an experiment. An experiment. Fleur had hoped for better ways to die.

Not like this.

" Où suis-je?"

Fleur paused, unaware of where she was and who was here. All she knew that everyone was an enemy. Everyone.

Before her stood a brunette, staring blatantly at her.

" Qui êtes-vous?!"




There were a lot of things to see and do with this new world they'd found themselves in, but Josie wasn't that interested in most of it. What she did like was having a Quidditch team- or as close to one as she could get. And yes, maybe she was using that to compensate for the things she was missing from home, but if she threw herself into the practices she didn't have to think about that being true. She supposed she could have spent a lot of time playing these games, but they confused her and she didn't understand how to get out other than dying. Not knowing made her anxious. No, she liked the open air and a broom under her. And being herself, not some weird blocky version. So she spent her time happily in the home world, or as happy as she could be while she was homesick.

She was minding her own business, groceries in hand for a meal she was planning for just the four of them, when she heard French. And not the French that her pin translated from English (that she didn't even really need) but someone properly speaking French. A female someone, so not Florian. Setting down the bag, she turned to see a beautiful blonde speaking to herself. She already seemed familiar, thanks to Florian, thanks to Victoire and Mini. This had to be the woman Bill married in almost every other world- the one that he actually wed for love.

It took a second to realize that the woman was talking to her, and she shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "Josephine—êtes vous Fleur?" She took a step toward the blonde. "J'ai tellement entendu parler de vous."




Fleur stiffened her posture as the brunette took a step forward. Stupide. Blue eyes narrowed, surveying the other woman’s posture, the bag in which she was carrying, height, weight, everything. She knew her name. Granted, everyone knew Fleur Delacour back home, that was part of being a Victor, but here? Fleur could not figure where here was. It was nothing like home. A game. A new Healy game.

She was never the woman to take her chances, to take that leap of faith and assume strangers would honestly have any other agenda than hurting her or worse. Josephine. French. Brunette. This woman was foreign to Fleur. Never had she ever set eyes upon Josephine till this day which made her even more aware that wherever here was, it was not safe. Fleur did not answer the woman or show any sign of acknowledgement to her name. Instead, Fleur opted for a less vocal approach and more physical.

Not wasting any time to give the woman a chance to attack, Fleur reacted first. In a few short strides, Fleur’s hand found the neck of Josephine. Her grip tightening ever so slightly around the curvature of Josephine’s neck. What could she have known already? If she had known Fleur’s true profession, Josephine would not have waited for Fleur to make the first move, or so Fleur assumed. She did not want to give in to her name or to the fact that without ever seeing the woman, Josephine knew exactly who she was talking to.

”Vous ne savez rien.” The words were hissed between her teeth as Fleur dropped her clutch. Chloroform would hold no purpose for this one. ”Où est Healy?” He had to be here. This had to be his plan. There was no one else Fleur could think of that would have this capability, this cunning, or this kind of funds to finance such a game. ”Qui travaillez-vous? Quel est votre but ici?” The questions came out one after the other. None of this calmed the young woman’s nerves as it showed in her grip around Josephine’s throat. With each question, she tightened her hold, slowly closing her windpipe.




Josie had just opened her mouth to respond — unfavorably — to being called stupid. Really, it was no stretch of the imagination to see how Victoire had turned out to react so rudely to her if this was her mother. There must have been something about her for Bill to fall in love with her, but Josie could only assume it was the difference of having his father around and apparently more siblings. But instead of being able to cut back with an insult of her own, Fleur moved.

She was fast, and Josie barely had time to think much less respond before there was a hand around her throat and a grip she couldn't shake. Just from her random journal reading, it seemed like so many of these other worlds had almost constant violence, wars, and other unfavorable things of that nature. As a whole, Josie's world wasn't like that. She wouldn't have called them soft before she knew of this place, but being here, she felt it sometimes. Now was one of those times. Any fighting she'd done was dueling with wands at school, and that was years ago. Her wand was in her bag at that- there was no way she'd be able to reach it now.

The questions were fired at her too quickly to answer, and as Fleur's hand tightened, she brought her own up to try and pry away the fingers cutting into her neck painfully. "Vous êtes fou. Je ne sais pas ce qui est Healy - Arrêtez ça! Je ne travaille pas pour n'importe qui!" A strangled gasp and she was forced to change tacks. If she didn't fight back, she was going to die. Her vision was starting to swim. Raising a hand, she thought it was the lack of oxygen that slowed her attack, never having experienced Mr. Gamma's anti violence wards.




Confusion settled in as the movement of Josephine's fist moved ever so slowly. What sort of world was this? Her second thought immediately took over her first. This woman was attempting to defend herself in movements Fleur had never witnessed before. "Cette conversation a duré un peu trop longtemps, menteur." In one swift motion, Fleur reached for one of the knives that was fastened along her waist with her free hand. The blade was small, only three inches long and about an inch wide. "Si ce n'est le meilleur Healy peux faire against moi, alors il cruellement sous-estimé ma capacité à éliminer n'importe qui dans mon chemin."

With a single thrust, Fleur pushed the blade into Josephine's abdomen, her grip tightening even further on her delicate neck. She pulled the other woman in. "Et si j'ai découvert que vous étiez couché, je te tuerai." Before letting the woman drop, Fleur smacked Josephine across her face with the butt of her knife. As Josephine hit the groud, Fleur wiped the excess blood onto her dress. "Ce sera le seul moment où je vous montrerai aucune pitié."

Fleur bent down and picked up her purse. This world was strange and if the people of this place were anything like the one she had just encountered, she figured this game would be a piece of cake.