OK, she thought to him. Jim realized that she had never actually SPOKEN to him yet. Her lips had never moved. But there had been a VOICE in his head, soft and musical. Her voice.
Jim was shaken out of his reverie by the sight of two figures standing at the curb next to a gray van. The two men wore gray three-piece suits and gray derby hats. One of them snapped closed a gold pocket watch. He looked a little like Malcolm McDowell. "My goodness, Mr. Russell," the man began, speaking to Jim, "you seem to have a bewildering variety of aliases." Jim was in shocked, but no more so than Leeloo, who clutched at Jim's arm and started trying to put him back up the street, all the while chattering a stream of what sounded like alien gibberish. Her delicate eyes were wild and panicked.
The man with the watch took a step toward them. "You ARE James Robert Russell, are you not?" The man tipped his derby while grinning slyly. "I am Mr. Pages. This--" he indicated the other man "--is Mr. Clock. We represent an organization . . . well, let's say that we devote our time to . . . reeducation of the public. Reeducation that magic does not exist. Some people would be easy to convince of this--your roommate Rick, for instance. Quite the budding scientist! Makes "A"s in all his college courses, I believe--"
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO RICK?" Jim shouted. He tried to stand in front of Leeloo.
"Calm yourself. Mr. Russell," Pages grinned. "We're not here for you, OR for your friend." He paused. When he paused he took out a switchblade. "We're here for her."
Jim was ready to protect Leeloo. But he suddenly saw that she needed no protectors. Suddenly she was cartwheeling up the street. Pages stabbed at her and got her two feet flat in his face. He fell to the wet street, knocked cold. The other one, Mr. Clock, had out a small pistol-like device and had it pointed at Leeloo. Leeloo stuck a finger in the barrel and the pistol seemed to backfire right into Mr. Clock's face, vaporizing him and the gun. The force of the blast knocked Leeloo against the side-panel of the gray van.
She got to her feet slowly. Jim and Leeloo dragged Pages unconscious body up to the front stoop and Jim unlocked the front door. He went inside and found Rick, headphones on his head, listening to Blue Oyster Cult. "A LOT OF HELP YOU FUCKING WERE!" Jim raged at him. "Help me find a rope!"
Jim and Rick tied Pages to the garage. Not IN the garage. TO the garage, to the slats bracing the interior walls. They had found keys to the van and a variety of strange devices, which Leeloo would not touch, or even go near. Some had aiming barrels and sights and obviously were some kind of weapons. One had "BANGALORE TORPEDO" stamped on the side. Rick took everything to the basement and locked everything up.
"Who's she?" Rick finally said, coming into the living room from downstairs. "Looks like the chick in 'The Fifth Element'!"
"I know. That's the first thing that went through my mind when I found her." Leeloo was in the corner and looked as if she was in shock. It was the sight of the Men in Gray or rather, their weapons. Jim got her some water. After a few minutes she was herself again and stood in the living room with her hands on her tiny hips.
"She works by Elemental Magic!" Jim said, "and she has to do whatever I say! Watch!" He leaned over and kissed Leeloo, which was a serious mistake. She shot out a hand and slammed Jim into the bookcase.
"Akta Gamat!" she said.
"OOOOOh, man, I remember that movie! That means 'Never Without My Permission'!"
"No shit!" Jim said weakly, climbing to his feet.
"No shit!" Leeloo triumphantly repeated, imitating him exactly.
Why couldn't he hear her thoughts anymore? Could it have been the explosion of Mr. Clock's gun? He tried sending a thought to her, asking her to come to him from the other room. She arrived in a few seconds. But he couldn't hear her voice in his head anymore. No "sending."
Fri Jan 5 16:49:22 2001