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Description

[Dinner Theater]

                Clyde had awakened a few hours before dawn and quickly changed his clothes before scrounging up a few spare scraps of paper. He wrote a single letter and copied it twice over, planting them in noticeable places across the ship, places he thought they might look, in front of his hiding nook, in the galley, and one more placed in front of the entry to the hangar bay. Thinking over it, he eventually stepped back from the spot where he had placed the last note and nervously shrugged before finally making his exit. He walked to the nearest porthole and set his spiders too work.

“Ten meters,” he whispered, staring out the window and falling through the portal they created.

                Outside, he found himself plummeting through the air and used a second portal to soften the blow as he collided with the ground below. He still felt a sharp stab of pain running up through his injured body as he struck the hard platform below and took a quick second to recover before slipping off into the darkness, easily avoiding the guards as he made his way into the city.

                The rest of the crew arrived some hours later, yawning and languidly stretching as they approached the docks, hoping to get back home before the sun had fully risen. Belix had been hoping to avoid the attention of the Grand Vizier, but she and her Grotesques had anticipated the move and insisted on escorting them to the ship. Talina was grinning smugly the whole way while Belix glowered at her.

“You know this wasn’t necessary,” Belix complained.

“Neither was leaving like thieves in the night,” Talina smiled back, “Besides, there is one final matter I would like to address before we conclude our business.”

“And we can do this on the ship?”

“We can do this right now, but I’d prefer to inconvenience you.”

“…for the record, I was going to have sex with you, but you’re the one who decided to be a twat about it.”

“I have no idea what you mean…” Talina responded coyly, and marched a few paces ahead to end the conversation.

                Belix watched her go, while ignoring the juvenile snickers of her crew, and followed her up the loading ramp. She stopped at the gate and turned back, waiting for Belix to catch up.

“Oh?” Belix rolled her eyes, “Am I supposed to carry you over the threshold too?”

“Well, I don’t have a key.”

“It’s not locked.”

“I know, now open it.”

                Rolling her eyes, she reached for the hatch wheel and pulled it open, instantly noticed the can that Clyde had left behind to hold his letter in place. Wincing, she reasoned that this had to be something she didn’t want the Grand Vizier to know about and spun around to block her.

“Oh, what,” Talina scoffed, “I’m not good enough to set foot on your precious ship.”

“It’s been a long day and we’ve got things to do,” Belix insisted, “Not the least of which would be accepting and sorting the supplies.”

“Which we are graciously providing.”

“Which we need to square away, and you said we could settle this here, so please do.”

“Fine then,” Talina grumbled, leaning on her staff, she reached behind her back and removed a brass medallion from a pouch in her waistband, “In recognition of your services, both past and future, I offer you this, proof of our continued bond and working relationship.”

“With all humility and…”

“Put it on,” Talina ordered, her expression cold and judgmental.

                Belix looked over the medallion and saw a pin on the back. She glowered at Talina before clipping it to her shirt.

“Happy?”

“This marks you as a Privateer,” Talina pushed herself closer, “My Privateer,” she whispered before continuing, “Officially, both you and your crew are now members of the Seriquisian Military, though, only you will carry any official rank.”

“Honorary you mean,” Belix corrected her.

“No,” Talina leaned in and whispered in her ear, “If you ever even think of betraying me, then I will have you tried in a military court for ALL of your crimes, your crew will simply be murdered.”

“Understood,” Belix hissed back.

“Good,” she turned her head to the side and kissed Belix on the cheek, “Don’t forget about me then, and we’ll be sending those researchers to Miji so you know, so check in with our man Dane, thank you, and call soon!”

                Belix wiped off her cheek and waited just long enough to watch the Grand Vizier exit the ramp before turning around and finally opening the hatch and stepping inside.

“Good to see you’re so close,” Zeesa tried to joke as they all filed in.

“Stuff it,” Belix snapped bending down and picking up the note.

                Sylvester paused as he walked past her and tried to read it over her shoulder.

“Do you mind?” Belix demanded.

“What is it?” Sylvester wondered.

                She passed the letter onto him and stepped into the hanger.

“Something’s come up,” Sylvester read aloud off of the page, “I’m sorry I can’t explain, I’ll try to be back before midnight, Clyde.”

“So…he went for a walk?” Evie shrugged, watching Belix stroll on by, “What’s the problem?”

“I have to go break something,” she muttered.

“What?” Granger asked, confused.

“We need the excuse so we can hold the docking port until he gets back.”

“Excuse me, I thought we were all in agreement to get out of here as fast as we could,” Zeesa broke in, “Are we really just staying because of your boyfriend?”

                Belix brushed her off and walked out of the hangar. She was out in the hall before she realized that she was still wearing the pin and tore it off of her shirt, dropping it to the floor, knowing that she would have to pick it up eventually, but needing that catharsis. As she wandered the halls, the quiet all around bore down on her, and a certain smell she couldn’t quite identify, something, almost like seafood but not, slimy, and earthy, rich, yet sickly sweet.

“What the Hells is that?” she wondered, turning around and seeing Sylvester behind her, “Oh, what? Let me guess, they volunteered you to…”

“No…” Sylvester shrugged, “The bathroom’s this way and I need to change my clothes.”

“…oh…” Belix blushed self-consciously.

                He smiled, amused and moved past her, but stopped a few steps away.

“You…um…have you seen the shrimps since you came in?” he asked.

“We told them to hide,” Belix mentioned.

“Since when do they listen?”

“Fair point,” Belix agreed, considering the possibilities, “Can you have your girlfriend check the vents? See if she can flush them out?”

“Good plan,” he looked away and winced, “Can we actually take off without them?”

“Take off? Sure, stay in the air…”

“Ah…” he looked at the floor and nodded, “The…um, the third turbine on the port side of the ship has been acting up, I’ve been meaning to take a look at it for a while.”

“I think Clyde actually fixed it a few weeks ago,” Belix mentioned, “Could break it again, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Hmmm…I think a blown pipe should buy us a few days at least…” he thought it over, scratching his chin and turned away, “I got an idea, give me about twenty minutes and start the engines.”

“…thank you…” she whispered.

“…just so we’re clear captain,” Sylvester replied anxiously, “You’re really starting to piss them off.”

“I’m aware,” Belix admitted, “I’ll try to…ease up.”

“You’re…really bad at this,” he observed, “Maybe you should…”

“Go break my ship before I jam you in the turbines.”

                He gave her a mock salute and went on his way only for her to turn around and be met by Granger who was hoisting the orblet on his back.

“Where did you want me to put this thing?” he asked, “I mean, we’re not exactly hiding it anymore, but I’d just prefer it to be out of the way of…”

“Nah, I get it,” she agreed, “The…I guess put it in the command center, at least it’ll be behind a door that locks.”

“Aye-aye,” Granger nodded solemnly, and turned about.

“Wait…” Belix moved closer, putting a hand on his arm, “Are we good?”

“Your meaning cap’n?” he looked at her curiously.

“Are we…look, thing’s been kinda weird, and I’m…” she stepped back letting out a sigh, “I’m trying to handle it, but I’m not…”

“I manipulated you into coming here,” he responded bluntly.

                She paused, staring at the floor before slowly raising her eyes to look at him sternly.

“Say that again,” she snapped.

“Well…Evie wanted to come here, and I…”

“You sold me out for some tail?!”

“You’re putting us all in danger for a boy you can’t even fuck!” he retorted, only to step away in terror as she moved towards him, “Alright, that came out wrong.”

                She continued to glare at him for a long minute then finally let out a breath.

“We can’t launch the ship anyway because we can’t find the shrimps,” she told him softly, then moved past him, “I’m gonna get Zeesa on it, you and Evie can keep busy setting up the hangar for the supplies.”

“Oh…” he looked at her quizzically, “So, are we really not going to …”

“We’re both genuine fuck-ups,” she cut him off, “I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

“Aye-aye cap’n,” he nodded, a smirk on his face.

                Clyde spent most of the day trying to familiarize himself with the city, trying to slip about from shadow to shadow, a task made all the harder by how pristine and sterling the city had been, it was hard to slip away with the grime. With no solid place to hide, he wound up walking from place to place and eventually collapsed on a nearby bench, exhaustion and hunger getting the best of him.

“Had to forget the coin,” he muttered, glaring around the parkway that he had found himself in, and then buried his face in his hands, “This… place is just too damn bright.”

                He was considering his options, in full understanding that it might include digging through a trash, when someone touched him on the head.

“I…” he looked up to see a nun with blue eyes looking back down with concern in her eyes, “Sorry,” he pushed himself up from the bench, “Loitering…right? I’ll try to keep moving…”

                Instead of answering, she moved closer and pulled open his eyelids, examining his pupils and checking his temperature.

“The Hell are you…” he grumbled pushing her away.

“You’re hurt aren’t you?” she observed.

“I…” he stammered, confused.

“You’re either hurt or you’re very sick,” she noted and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along like a dog on a leash, “Come with me, I must take you to the clinic immediately.”

“Get off me,” he wrenched her hand off of his clothes only for her to grab him by the arm and throw him to the dirt.

                Letting out a scream, Clyde hugged himself, wrapping his arms around his injured ribs as the weakened bones crackled and shifted with the impact. The nun let out a surprised shriek of her own and instantly rushed over to examine him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly while trying to hold him down and examine the injury, “I didn’t mean to, it was just a reflex!”

                Through his pain, Clyde glanced around the parkway and saw the crowd of people who had been milling around, going about their business, had all stopped to stare and mutter behind their hands. He mentally berated himself for creating a scene and knocked the nun’s hands away, rolling away from her so he could stand up.

“Apologies for the trouble,” he muttered and started shuffling away.

                He had made it to the street before he noticed the footsteps coming up behind him, he turned and saw the blue eyed nun chasing after him. Rolling his eyes, he found a nearby lamppost and leaned against it, waiting for her to catch up. Slid to a halt in front of him and bent over gasping.

“You shouldn’t run in a long dress like that,” he advised while she was catching her breath, “You could trip.”

                After finally catching her breath, she stood up straight and saluted him.

“Sir!” she declared in a clipped voice, “You must accept the apologies of this inelegant servant of the one true path, and please accept my invitation to be escorted to the clinic!”

“No…”Clyde replied bluntly, but then revised his statement, “That is to say, yes to one, no to the other, thank you for your concern but I’ll be going now.”

“You’re…not coming?” she asked pitifully, “But you must!”

“Goodbye Miss,” he waved and tried to leave again only for her to run in front of him and block his path, he sighed, “This is not as cute as you think it is.”

“Please sir,” she insisted, “Your fever sweat, the darkened circles under your eyes, your pallid skin, and general odor!”

“…Get Out Of My Way!” Clyde hissed.

“I am sorry, but I must…” she reached out to grab him and he slapped her hands away for the third time.

                She responded by trying to throw him again, but he was prepared this time and countered the throw, wrapping her in a headlock.

“Stop it!” he snarled before letting her go, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking off.

“Please Sir! Stop!” she called after him.

“No!” he snapped.

“Please Sir!” she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him to a halt before holding a glowing yellow potion in front of him, “Please, you must accept this, my apology for assaulting you!”

                Clyde grumbled under his breath, but took the bottle, hoping it would finally end the exchange. She bowed one last time and apologized, then hustled away to the other end of the street. Clyde looked down at the potion and shrugged before stuffing it into his coat. As he left, he scanned the area again and noticed the attention he had drawn, all the people, staring at him, muttering and chatting.

“Some spy,” he muttered under his breath and kept walking until the chatter finally died down.

                When he finally had a moment alone, he slipped off into an alley and did a quick check on the egg he had hidden under his coat, making sure it hadn’t gotten injured in the scuffle.

“Well, thank God you’re sturdy,” he mentioned, running his hands over the surface of the shell, he suddenly felt it shift, wiggling under his fingers, “Are you…laughing?”

                Shaking his head, he tucked it away and sank down behind a trash bin, hoping he could get a few more minutes of rest before he had to set out again.

                The sun was hanging low in the sky when he doubled back and tried to find the café Vanitas had indicated. He arrived an hour early and found a secluded perch across the street where he could watch her arrive. She showed about forty minutes later wearing a green and gray outfit with a large blue hat. He glared, scanning across the road and restaurant, his eyes scrolled across the rooftops and tried to take in every motion and gesture, and he kept at it for well over an hour before his patients finally ran out.

    The dinner rush was dying down and now seemed as good a time as any to make his approach. He dropped to ground level and strolled over, ignoring the greeter and the waitress, he walked right up to the table and fell into a chair across from the former Queen.

“How very bold of you,” she giggled girlishly, “How do you know that my husband’s not on the way?”

“Can we please not play games and just get to the point,” Clyde grumbled.

“…so…out of curiosity,” she smirked back at him, “Did you hurt your back sitting crouched up there all day?”

                Clyde said nothing and glared back at her, she just laughed.

“You’re so serious,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair, with a gesture, she called the waitress over and waited while she slid a plate of food in front of him, “Come now, you must be starving.”

                Clyde’s eyes narrowed and he remained unmoved.

“Oh? Don’t you trust me?”

“I didn’t come here for you to ask me stupid questions,” he responded, “Now, what is Ragda up to.”

“World conquest, domination,” Vanitas shrugged, “The usual.”

“How?!”

“…you know there’s an art to this, a certain…I mean, are you even aware of the concept of foreplay?”

“You’re stalling,” Clyde responded bluntly, and stood up from the table.

“Of course I am,” she pointed over his shoulder, “I had to give them a chance to sneak up on you.”

                He looked in the direction she was pointing and saw two men in long coats approaching, wide brimmed hats pulled low to obscure their faces. While he was looking, Vanitas kicked the table into his knees, knocking him off balance. The waitress dropped her towels and serving tray, revealing a butcher’s knife that she lunged at Clyde with. He wrestled with her, but found the woman impossibly strong and quickly changed tactics, throwing her to the ground and isolating the blade. Then he remembered the two men approaching from the other side of the restaurant.

    He quickly scanned his surroundings in time to see Vanitas standing from her chair and approaching him, pulling a Rapier from beneath her skirt, he noticed something else as well. The restaurant was basically empty.

“Not much of a night crowd around here,” she mentioned mockingly, blade glittering in the dim light, “So don’t worry, there’s no one to interrupt us.”

“Good,” Clyde hissed, pulling the blade away from the waitress and throwing it at his oncoming assailants.

                The knife stuck into one of their knees and he fell forward, only to have his friend step on him as he continued to approach. Vanitas slashed at him, hoping he was distracted, but Clyde ducked under the blow and went for the fallen serving tray. He used it as a shield, heavily denting the polished silver when it deflected an oncoming punch from the man in the trench coat, then he used it as a club, beating the man across the head and ruining it further before discarding it and running towards the kitchens.

                Mentally berating himself for leaving without weapons, he kicked open the door and saw a pair of cooks waiting for him. With only seconds to react, he judged them to be enemies and grabbed a nearby meat cleaver as he faced them down. They attacked, and one’s hand went flying before the meat cleaver lodged itself into the next one’s skull, he abandoned the weapon and pushed past them, going for his primary target. At the other end of the kitchen, he found what he was looking for, a cast-iron skillet, wet from the sink, and he prayed it would be enough.

                Vanitas followed him inside, lazily strolling towards him and smirking at his new weapon.

“Everything else in here that’s sharp and deadly and you picked that?”

                He smirked and invited her to come and test him. They clashed, and, with the kitchen island narrowing their battlefield, limiting their footwork, the skillet worked quite well, deflecting the edge of her sword and blunting her attack. Then he got her in a clench and had a chance to truly test out the power of his weapon. Shoving the iron against her skin, the cold metal let out a sizzling noise and smoke curled off of her neck as she screamed in agony. However, his victory was short lived, as the two men in trench coats entered the room, cracking their knuckles and approaching menacingly.
                Out the corner of his eye he spotted a window and decided it was his best option to escape. Shoving Vanitas into his attackers, he spun about and formed another portal, passing through the wall and emerging into the alley behind the restaurant. Knowing that he couldn’t rest, he took off running and thanked whatever Gods would listen that he finally had some shadows to hide in.

Description

[Dinner Theater]

                Clyde had awakened a few hours before dawn and quickly changed his clothes before scrounging up a few spare scraps of paper. He wrote a single letter and copied it twice over, planting them in noticeable places across the ship, places he thought they might look, in front of his hiding nook, in the galley, and one more placed in front of the entry to the hangar bay. Thinking over it, he eventually stepped back from the spot where he had placed the last note and nervously shrugged before finally making his exit. He walked to the nearest porthole and set his spiders too work.

“Ten meters,” he whispered, staring out the window and falling through the portal they created.

                Outside, he found himself plummeting through the air and used a second portal to soften the blow as he collided with the ground below. He still felt a sharp stab of pain running up through his injured body as he struck the hard platform below and took a quick second to recover before slipping off into the darkness, easily avoiding the guards as he made his way into the city.

                The rest of the crew arrived some hours later, yawning and languidly stretching as they approached the docks, hoping to get back home before the sun had fully risen. Belix had been hoping to avoid the attention of the Grand Vizier, but she and her Grotesques had anticipated the move and insisted on escorting them to the ship. Talina was grinning smugly the whole way while Belix glowered at her.

“You know this wasn’t necessary,” Belix complained.

“Neither was leaving like thieves in the night,” Talina smiled back, “Besides, there is one final matter I would like to address before we conclude our business.”

“And we can do this on the ship?”

“We can do this right now, but I’d prefer to inconvenience you.”

“…for the record, I was going to have sex with you, but you’re the one who decided to be a twat about it.”

“I have no idea what you mean…” Talina responded coyly, and marched a few paces ahead to end the conversation.

                Belix watched her go, while ignoring the juvenile snickers of her crew, and followed her up the loading ramp. She stopped at the gate and turned back, waiting for Belix to catch up.

“Oh?” Belix rolled her eyes, “Am I supposed to carry you over the threshold too?”

“Well, I don’t have a key.”

“It’s not locked.”

“I know, now open it.”

                Rolling her eyes, she reached for the hatch wheel and pulled it open, instantly noticed the can that Clyde had left behind to hold his letter in place. Wincing, she reasoned that this had to be something she didn’t want the Grand Vizier to know about and spun around to block her.

“Oh, what,” Talina scoffed, “I’m not good enough to set foot on your precious ship.”

“It’s been a long day and we’ve got things to do,” Belix insisted, “Not the least of which would be accepting and sorting the supplies.”

“Which we are graciously providing.”

“Which we need to square away, and you said we could settle this here, so please do.”

“Fine then,” Talina grumbled, leaning on her staff, she reached behind her back and removed a brass medallion from a pouch in her waistband, “In recognition of your services, both past and future, I offer you this, proof of our continued bond and working relationship.”

“With all humility and…”

“Put it on,” Talina ordered, her expression cold and judgmental.

                Belix looked over the medallion and saw a pin on the back. She glowered at Talina before clipping it to her shirt.

“Happy?”

“This marks you as a Privateer,” Talina pushed herself closer, “My Privateer,” she whispered before continuing, “Officially, both you and your crew are now members of the Seriquisian Military, though, only you will carry any official rank.”

“Honorary you mean,” Belix corrected her.

“No,” Talina leaned in and whispered in her ear, “If you ever even think of betraying me, then I will have you tried in a military court for ALL of your crimes, your crew will simply be murdered.”

“Understood,” Belix hissed back.

“Good,” she turned her head to the side and kissed Belix on the cheek, “Don’t forget about me then, and we’ll be sending those researchers to Miji so you know, so check in with our man Dane, thank you, and call soon!”

                Belix wiped off her cheek and waited just long enough to watch the Grand Vizier exit the ramp before turning around and finally opening the hatch and stepping inside.

“Good to see you’re so close,” Zeesa tried to joke as they all filed in.

“Stuff it,” Belix snapped bending down and picking up the note.

                Sylvester paused as he walked past her and tried to read it over her shoulder.

“Do you mind?” Belix demanded.

“What is it?” Sylvester wondered.

                She passed the letter onto him and stepped into the hanger.

“Something’s come up,” Sylvester read aloud off of the page, “I’m sorry I can’t explain, I’ll try to be back before midnight, Clyde.”

“So…he went for a walk?” Evie shrugged, watching Belix stroll on by, “What’s the problem?”

“I have to go break something,” she muttered.

“What?” Granger asked, confused.

“We need the excuse so we can hold the docking port until he gets back.”

“Excuse me, I thought we were all in agreement to get out of here as fast as we could,” Zeesa broke in, “Are we really just staying because of your boyfriend?”

                Belix brushed her off and walked out of the hangar. She was out in the hall before she realized that she was still wearing the pin and tore it off of her shirt, dropping it to the floor, knowing that she would have to pick it up eventually, but needing that catharsis. As she wandered the halls, the quiet all around bore down on her, and a certain smell she couldn’t quite identify, something, almost like seafood but not, slimy, and earthy, rich, yet sickly sweet.

“What the Hells is that?” she wondered, turning around and seeing Sylvester behind her, “Oh, what? Let me guess, they volunteered you to…”

“No…” Sylvester shrugged, “The bathroom’s this way and I need to change my clothes.”

“…oh…” Belix blushed self-consciously.

                He smiled, amused and moved past her, but stopped a few steps away.

“You…um…have you seen the shrimps since you came in?” he asked.

“We told them to hide,” Belix mentioned.

“Since when do they listen?”

“Fair point,” Belix agreed, considering the possibilities, “Can you have your girlfriend check the vents? See if she can flush them out?”

“Good plan,” he looked away and winced, “Can we actually take off without them?”

“Take off? Sure, stay in the air…”

“Ah…” he looked at the floor and nodded, “The…um, the third turbine on the port side of the ship has been acting up, I’ve been meaning to take a look at it for a while.”

“I think Clyde actually fixed it a few weeks ago,” Belix mentioned, “Could break it again, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Hmmm…I think a blown pipe should buy us a few days at least…” he thought it over, scratching his chin and turned away, “I got an idea, give me about twenty minutes and start the engines.”

“…thank you…” she whispered.

“…just so we’re clear captain,” Sylvester replied anxiously, “You’re really starting to piss them off.”

“I’m aware,” Belix admitted, “I’ll try to…ease up.”

“You’re…really bad at this,” he observed, “Maybe you should…”

“Go break my ship before I jam you in the turbines.”

                He gave her a mock salute and went on his way only for her to turn around and be met by Granger who was hoisting the orblet on his back.

“Where did you want me to put this thing?” he asked, “I mean, we’re not exactly hiding it anymore, but I’d just prefer it to be out of the way of…”

“Nah, I get it,” she agreed, “The…I guess put it in the command center, at least it’ll be behind a door that locks.”

“Aye-aye,” Granger nodded solemnly, and turned about.

“Wait…” Belix moved closer, putting a hand on his arm, “Are we good?”

“Your meaning cap’n?” he looked at her curiously.

“Are we…look, thing’s been kinda weird, and I’m…” she stepped back letting out a sigh, “I’m trying to handle it, but I’m not…”

“I manipulated you into coming here,” he responded bluntly.

                She paused, staring at the floor before slowly raising her eyes to look at him sternly.

“Say that again,” she snapped.

“Well…Evie wanted to come here, and I…”

“You sold me out for some tail?!”

“You’re putting us all in danger for a boy you can’t even fuck!” he retorted, only to step away in terror as she moved towards him, “Alright, that came out wrong.”

                She continued to glare at him for a long minute then finally let out a breath.

“We can’t launch the ship anyway because we can’t find the shrimps,” she told him softly, then moved past him, “I’m gonna get Zeesa on it, you and Evie can keep busy setting up the hangar for the supplies.”

“Oh…” he looked at her quizzically, “So, are we really not going to …”

“We’re both genuine fuck-ups,” she cut him off, “I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

“Aye-aye cap’n,” he nodded, a smirk on his face.

                Clyde spent most of the day trying to familiarize himself with the city, trying to slip about from shadow to shadow, a task made all the harder by how pristine and sterling the city had been, it was hard to slip away with the grime. With no solid place to hide, he wound up walking from place to place and eventually collapsed on a nearby bench, exhaustion and hunger getting the best of him.

“Had to forget the coin,” he muttered, glaring around the parkway that he had found himself in, and then buried his face in his hands, “This… place is just too damn bright.”

                He was considering his options, in full understanding that it might include digging through a trash, when someone touched him on the head.

“I…” he looked up to see a nun with blue eyes looking back down with concern in her eyes, “Sorry,” he pushed himself up from the bench, “Loitering…right? I’ll try to keep moving…”

                Instead of answering, she moved closer and pulled open his eyelids, examining his pupils and checking his temperature.

“The Hell are you…” he grumbled pushing her away.

“You’re hurt aren’t you?” she observed.

“I…” he stammered, confused.

“You’re either hurt or you’re very sick,” she noted and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along like a dog on a leash, “Come with me, I must take you to the clinic immediately.”

“Get off me,” he wrenched her hand off of his clothes only for her to grab him by the arm and throw him to the dirt.

                Letting out a scream, Clyde hugged himself, wrapping his arms around his injured ribs as the weakened bones crackled and shifted with the impact. The nun let out a surprised shriek of her own and instantly rushed over to examine him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly while trying to hold him down and examine the injury, “I didn’t mean to, it was just a reflex!”

                Through his pain, Clyde glanced around the parkway and saw the crowd of people who had been milling around, going about their business, had all stopped to stare and mutter behind their hands. He mentally berated himself for creating a scene and knocked the nun’s hands away, rolling away from her so he could stand up.

“Apologies for the trouble,” he muttered and started shuffling away.

                He had made it to the street before he noticed the footsteps coming up behind him, he turned and saw the blue eyed nun chasing after him. Rolling his eyes, he found a nearby lamppost and leaned against it, waiting for her to catch up. Slid to a halt in front of him and bent over gasping.

“You shouldn’t run in a long dress like that,” he advised while she was catching her breath, “You could trip.”

                After finally catching her breath, she stood up straight and saluted him.

“Sir!” she declared in a clipped voice, “You must accept the apologies of this inelegant servant of the one true path, and please accept my invitation to be escorted to the clinic!”

“No…”Clyde replied bluntly, but then revised his statement, “That is to say, yes to one, no to the other, thank you for your concern but I’ll be going now.”

“You’re…not coming?” she asked pitifully, “But you must!”

“Goodbye Miss,” he waved and tried to leave again only for her to run in front of him and block his path, he sighed, “This is not as cute as you think it is.”

“Please sir,” she insisted, “Your fever sweat, the darkened circles under your eyes, your pallid skin, and general odor!”

“…Get Out Of My Way!” Clyde hissed.

“I am sorry, but I must…” she reached out to grab him and he slapped her hands away for the third time.

                She responded by trying to throw him again, but he was prepared this time and countered the throw, wrapping her in a headlock.

“Stop it!” he snarled before letting her go, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking off.

“Please Sir! Stop!” she called after him.

“No!” he snapped.

“Please Sir!” she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him to a halt before holding a glowing yellow potion in front of him, “Please, you must accept this, my apology for assaulting you!”

                Clyde grumbled under his breath, but took the bottle, hoping it would finally end the exchange. She bowed one last time and apologized, then hustled away to the other end of the street. Clyde looked down at the potion and shrugged before stuffing it into his coat. As he left, he scanned the area again and noticed the attention he had drawn, all the people, staring at him, muttering and chatting.

“Some spy,” he muttered under his breath and kept walking until the chatter finally died down.

                When he finally had a moment alone, he slipped off into an alley and did a quick check on the egg he had hidden under his coat, making sure it hadn’t gotten injured in the scuffle.

“Well, thank God you’re sturdy,” he mentioned, running his hands over the surface of the shell, he suddenly felt it shift, wiggling under his fingers, “Are you…laughing?”

                Shaking his head, he tucked it away and sank down behind a trash bin, hoping he could get a few more minutes of rest before he had to set out again.

                The sun was hanging low in the sky when he doubled back and tried to find the café Vanitas had indicated. He arrived an hour early and found a secluded perch across the street where he could watch her arrive. She showed about forty minutes later wearing a green and gray outfit with a large blue hat. He glared, scanning across the road and restaurant, his eyes scrolled across the rooftops and tried to take in every motion and gesture, and he kept at it for well over an hour before his patients finally ran out.

    The dinner rush was dying down and now seemed as good a time as any to make his approach. He dropped to ground level and strolled over, ignoring the greeter and the waitress, he walked right up to the table and fell into a chair across from the former Queen.

“How very bold of you,” she giggled girlishly, “How do you know that my husband’s not on the way?”

“Can we please not play games and just get to the point,” Clyde grumbled.

“…so…out of curiosity,” she smirked back at him, “Did you hurt your back sitting crouched up there all day?”

                Clyde said nothing and glared back at her, she just laughed.

“You’re so serious,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair, with a gesture, she called the waitress over and waited while she slid a plate of food in front of him, “Come now, you must be starving.”

                Clyde’s eyes narrowed and he remained unmoved.

“Oh? Don’t you trust me?”

“I didn’t come here for you to ask me stupid questions,” he responded, “Now, what is Ragda up to.”

“World conquest, domination,” Vanitas shrugged, “The usual.”

“How?!”

“…you know there’s an art to this, a certain…I mean, are you even aware of the concept of foreplay?”

“You’re stalling,” Clyde responded bluntly, and stood up from the table.

“Of course I am,” she pointed over his shoulder, “I had to give them a chance to sneak up on you.”

                He looked in the direction she was pointing and saw two men in long coats approaching, wide brimmed hats pulled low to obscure their faces. While he was looking, Vanitas kicked the table into his knees, knocking him off balance. The waitress dropped her towels and serving tray, revealing a butcher’s knife that she lunged at Clyde with. He wrestled with her, but found the woman impossibly strong and quickly changed tactics, throwing her to the ground and isolating the blade. Then he remembered the two men approaching from the other side of the restaurant.

    He quickly scanned his surroundings in time to see Vanitas standing from her chair and approaching him, pulling a Rapier from beneath her skirt, he noticed something else as well. The restaurant was basically empty.

“Not much of a night crowd around here,” she mentioned mockingly, blade glittering in the dim light, “So don’t worry, there’s no one to interrupt us.”

“Good,” Clyde hissed, pulling the blade away from the waitress and throwing it at his oncoming assailants.

                The knife stuck into one of their knees and he fell forward, only to have his friend step on him as he continued to approach. Vanitas slashed at him, hoping he was distracted, but Clyde ducked under the blow and went for the fallen serving tray. He used it as a shield, heavily denting the polished silver when it deflected an oncoming punch from the man in the trench coat, then he used it as a club, beating the man across the head and ruining it further before discarding it and running towards the kitchens.

                Mentally berating himself for leaving without weapons, he kicked open the door and saw a pair of cooks waiting for him. With only seconds to react, he judged them to be enemies and grabbed a nearby meat cleaver as he faced them down. They attacked, and one’s hand went flying before the meat cleaver lodged itself into the next one’s skull, he abandoned the weapon and pushed past them, going for his primary target. At the other end of the kitchen, he found what he was looking for, a cast-iron skillet, wet from the sink, and he prayed it would be enough.

                Vanitas followed him inside, lazily strolling towards him and smirking at his new weapon.

“Everything else in here that’s sharp and deadly and you picked that?”

                He smirked and invited her to come and test him. They clashed, and, with the kitchen island narrowing their battlefield, limiting their footwork, the skillet worked quite well, deflecting the edge of her sword and blunting her attack. Then he got her in a clench and had a chance to truly test out the power of his weapon. Shoving the iron against her skin, the cold metal let out a sizzling noise and smoke curled off of her neck as she screamed in agony. However, his victory was short lived, as the two men in trench coats entered the room, cracking their knuckles and approaching menacingly.
                Out the corner of his eye he spotted a window and decided it was his best option to escape. Shoving Vanitas into his attackers, he spun about and formed another portal, passing through the wall and emerging into the alley behind the restaurant. Knowing that he couldn’t rest, he took off running and thanked whatever Gods would listen that he finally had some shadows to hide in.