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Description
---Melloni Oujisama, Prince Mello the Second of the planet Neptune, also known as Empress Sheepie of Dimension 362.4, says good day and begs you not to kill her for the lateness.---

“Spicer, you are an idiot.”
Jack shook the wet from his hair nonchalantly. “That’s all you came to say?”
For a moment, Chase and Jack stared at each other in loathing, warrior against criminal, as similar as a panther and a lapcat. Chase growled, baring long fangs. Jack couldn’t help a slight wince.
“No, it is not, Spicer. How stupid would you like to appear? When it was the Xiaolin, at least you never endangered the rest of us. Do you realise exactly who is coming to investigate your sorry mess of a ‘business’?”
Jack raised one red-dyed eyebrow. “It’s only the police. No need to have kittens.” He grinned.
“Spicer! Don’t play the fool with me!” Chase hissed through his teeth in exasperation, an odd sight in a suit, incongruous against the mass of cushions on the sofa he was sat upon. “You know as well as I do that the police have much more power than they would have anyone believe.”
“That’s stupid. They won’t find out a thing.”
The room was large, a big hall of a place, painted eggshell blue, with a thick plush carpet. In pride of place sat several fat white chaise-longues, their backs mounted with padding, upon which the two glowering men sat.
“Sometimes not finding out can be as revealing as finding everything out, Spicer. It just shows your immaturity that you can’t see that.” Chase sneered at Jack’s feigned lack of interest. “Ignorance is your key failure, Spicer. That and cowardice.”
“Tcheh.” It was a small noise, barely enough to hear, but no sound could have better communicated Jack’s inner sulking teenager. “You must be going senile, old man. You’re rambling nonsense.”
“Old man?!” Gold eyes flashed yellow. “Don’t toy with my patience, Spicer!” All the same, he did not try to attack. Without the grounded power of his armour, and in this place where he dared not risk becoming a lizard, he had only his wits and dexterity to rely on. Even he didn’t know whether they would be sufficient against the twenty or so snipers he could see watching out the darkness of the gallery above. He contented himself with a low growl. “You are not getting away with that one, Spicer. I can hold grudges for a very, very long time.”
“Whatever.”
“I came to warn you, nothing more. How do you do it, Spicer? How can you hide potential below such a silt of stupidity? If only you had been worth my notice earlier.”
The upraised eyebrow shot up one more tenuous notch. Any more, and it would have been hidden in Jack’s hairline. “Hah! Don’t try to tell me you’re worried about my health.”
“No, I am merely regretting that whoever brought you up did such a bad job of it. Good day, Spicer. May you come to a bad end soon, and save me the trouble.” He smiled thinly. “Oh, but what am I saying? By the time the Special Forces are done with you, a pin will kill you.”
“Oh, what are you going to do? Make a voodoo doll of me? I have to say, it’d look pretty good, a dolly against that hair-”
“Spicer, you have twenty-four gunmen hidden in your gallery upstairs, a .357 Magnum revolver in your coat pocket, and a worldwide connection of spies. I have my wits about me. Which would you care to bet on?” He laughed at Jack’s poisonous expression. “Now go and find out for yourself what I was going to tell you. When you have, don’t you dare come to me for help. That is, if you’re still alive.”
“Fuck you.”
“Goodbye, Spicer, and let us only hope that the eclectic threads of fate that bind whatever idiotic destiny they see fit to weave go off on opposite tangents tomorrow, when the police call. As you would say in such a position, have fun with that."

To Be Continued…

Description
---Melloni Oujisama, Prince Mello the Second of the planet Neptune, also known as Empress Sheepie of Dimension 362.4, says good day and begs you not to kill her for the lateness.---

“Spicer, you are an idiot.”
Jack shook the wet from his hair nonchalantly. “That’s all you came to say?”
For a moment, Chase and Jack stared at each other in loathing, warrior against criminal, as similar as a panther and a lapcat. Chase growled, baring long fangs. Jack couldn’t help a slight wince.
“No, it is not, Spicer. How stupid would you like to appear? When it was the Xiaolin, at least you never endangered the rest of us. Do you realise exactly who is coming to investigate your sorry mess of a ‘business’?”
Jack raised one red-dyed eyebrow. “It’s only the police. No need to have kittens.” He grinned.
“Spicer! Don’t play the fool with me!” Chase hissed through his teeth in exasperation, an odd sight in a suit, incongruous against the mass of cushions on the sofa he was sat upon. “You know as well as I do that the police have much more power than they would have anyone believe.”
“That’s stupid. They won’t find out a thing.”
The room was large, a big hall of a place, painted eggshell blue, with a thick plush carpet. In pride of place sat several fat white chaise-longues, their backs mounted with padding, upon which the two glowering men sat.
“Sometimes not finding out can be as revealing as finding everything out, Spicer. It just shows your immaturity that you can’t see that.” Chase sneered at Jack’s feigned lack of interest. “Ignorance is your key failure, Spicer. That and cowardice.”
“Tcheh.” It was a small noise, barely enough to hear, but no sound could have better communicated Jack’s inner sulking teenager. “You must be going senile, old man. You’re rambling nonsense.”
“Old man?!” Gold eyes flashed yellow. “Don’t toy with my patience, Spicer!” All the same, he did not try to attack. Without the grounded power of his armour, and in this place where he dared not risk becoming a lizard, he had only his wits and dexterity to rely on. Even he didn’t know whether they would be sufficient against the twenty or so snipers he could see watching out the darkness of the gallery above. He contented himself with a low growl. “You are not getting away with that one, Spicer. I can hold grudges for a very, very long time.”
“Whatever.”
“I came to warn you, nothing more. How do you do it, Spicer? How can you hide potential below such a silt of stupidity? If only you had been worth my notice earlier.”
The upraised eyebrow shot up one more tenuous notch. Any more, and it would have been hidden in Jack’s hairline. “Hah! Don’t try to tell me you’re worried about my health.”
“No, I am merely regretting that whoever brought you up did such a bad job of it. Good day, Spicer. May you come to a bad end soon, and save me the trouble.” He smiled thinly. “Oh, but what am I saying? By the time the Special Forces are done with you, a pin will kill you.”
“Oh, what are you going to do? Make a voodoo doll of me? I have to say, it’d look pretty good, a dolly against that hair-”
“Spicer, you have twenty-four gunmen hidden in your gallery upstairs, a .357 Magnum revolver in your coat pocket, and a worldwide connection of spies. I have my wits about me. Which would you care to bet on?” He laughed at Jack’s poisonous expression. “Now go and find out for yourself what I was going to tell you. When you have, don’t you dare come to me for help. That is, if you’re still alive.”
“Fuck you.”
“Goodbye, Spicer, and let us only hope that the eclectic threads of fate that bind whatever idiotic destiny they see fit to weave go off on opposite tangents tomorrow, when the police call. As you would say in such a position, have fun with that."

To Be Continued…