17: The Calm Before

Narem hefted the knife in his paw, feeling the weight. He held it by the tip, studying the blade. Wicked sharp, matte black, narrow, the grip just blunt metal, no rubber, like a sliver of infinity. They belonged to Aloysius, but the fox had kindly allowed him to borrow them for practice. Narem looked back, the broken wagon wheel stubbornly remaining as broken as it had been twenty minutes ago. The circus troupe was about a third of the way to the Vellem / Kallinger border, just enough that the plains had started to give way into softer marsh-like Earth. They'd been starting to hit a good rhythm, when Lazarus's wagon wheel seemed to just explode, half his pain-inducing paraphernalia tumbling into the mud.

“How is it going?" A scholarly voice asked. Narem blushed, Aloysius approaching with his paws in his pockets. He wore his little round spectacles as always, his top covered in a white shirt and a grey vest, matching slacks on his bottom.

“I haven't tried yet." The young leopard admitted sheepishly, showing him the clutched bundle of knives.

“Focus on your target, and heft the blade tip-first, yes like that. Try and keep your arm straight, and follow through with your whole body – don't lock up." The fox instructed, coming to his side. Narem gritted his teeth, aiming.

“I'm nervous." He laughed.

“You didn't mention where this sudden interest in knives came from." The medic / swordsman said benignly. “Unclench your jaw."

“Oh, you know." The leopard replied, obeying. “I just, am not very good at shooting guns I think, but I thought, that is if I could do something useful…" He let the fox draw his own conclusions.

“Ah." Aloysius replied sagely. “So you are trying to impress Fletcher then?" Narem blushed instantly, recoiling.

“No! Why would you think that? Times are getting violent, it's a useful skill I thought. What if more bounty hunters come?" He snapped, squinting at the fox. Aloysius merely stared back blankly, and Narem quickly relented. Once he admitted a little he found himself admitting a lot, a torrent spilling out. “Fine, perhaps I am not the best at hiding my feelings. It doesn't matter much though anyway. Fletcher likes Lyric, it's obvious. I don't know why he would, but that's his business. They can both go jump off a cliff." He hurled the knife at the tree, and while it only hit the edge of the makeshift target he'd put up, it stuck in firmly to the wood.

“Well done, a good start." Aloysius nodded.

“It is just…" Narem paused, suddenly embarrassed.

“It's okay."

“Well, since Nobu started, er… seeing Ursula, I've been spending more and more time alone. And Fletcher is so nice, and so… well, handsome." His face felt so hot, and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Sorry."

“Don't be." Aloysius said. “Everyone talks to me. I'm good at keeping secrets, it is a doctor's role no?"

“I can't stop thinking of him like that."

“It is difficult, I understand." The fox nodded. “If only we had a switch we could turn on and off for our emotions."

“Especially when," Narem threw another knife, and it hit slightly closer to the target centre, but fell out of the wood and into the grass. “He's so damn interested in a backwards-headed, self-idolising, penitent idiot like Lyric. An idiot who thinks he's so much better than all of us, too good to mingle with the common folk, the arrogant prick." He hurled a third knife, this one missing the tree completely. “I'll… get that later." He said quickly.

“I seem to recall," Aloysius said slowly, stroking his cream-coloured chin. “A time not so long ago when a certain cat also had a crush on Mister Tellurian? Am I wrong?"

Narem growled. “I need to get better at hiding things."

“Fletcher is young. And he hasn't had good role models in his life, can you imagine growing up with Thume being the best man you knew Narem?"

“I suppose not." The leopard shivered, the goat creeped him out. Thume seemed far too much like Dopesmoker for his liking.

“Pretend you are Fletcher Fulbright for a moment then. You grow up isolated from the world, with the Blood-Iron Baron – verified lunatic and a brute even by Baron standards - and Thume as your de facto parents. Imagine how painfully alone you would feel. And then, your father tries to sell you off like some breeding stallion. So you run away with the closest thing to a positive role model you've ever had, and it only works because of Lyric. He was the one who pushed Meridian into letting those two tag along remember, how could you not see him as a sort of saviour? On top of that, he's on some crazed crusade to rid the world of evil, and all the while our jackal is oh-so confident and sure of himself, the opposite of you."

“Arrogant is the word I used."

“Well it is not the one I am using." Aloysius said sternly. “Lyric is a good person; he wants to help people. Do you think it is at all possible Fletcher is confused, not sure if he wants to be with Lyric, or rather wants to simply be Lyric?"

“I don't know." Narem muttered. “Either way I feel like a fool."

“Well you are already picking up the knife throwing, which is impressive in itself." The fox said, smiling. “I would not be too hard on yourself, you cannot control other people or their feelings. My unsolicited advice, young man, is to respect Fletcher's history, and give him the space to sort himself out."

Narem growled, for the hundredth time imagining a topless Fletcher coming over to him, wanting to hold him, to kiss him. He imagined his paws in the coyote's head fur, the boy's tail wrapping with his own. It hurt to think about too much.

Stupid Lyric doesn't know a good thing when it spits in his face. He thought, throwing the last knife in his hand.

It almost hit the target, and stuck in perfectly.

...

“Why're ye staring at me?!" A loud bear asked, bloodshot eyes glaring hatefully at Lyric. They held in them the dead-set certainty of the delusional.

“I ain't pal." He replied, holding his injured side. After the prison carriage ride, he'd been thrown into a larger cell with three other apparent criminals. The bear had been muttering paranoid nothings aloud since then. Thankfully the cuffs had been removed, and he had been able to at least put pressure on his wound – though the bleeding had mostly ceased now. Beyond that, he was trying not to think too much.

“Y'are!" The bear insisted, standing. “You think you know me, get away!" He came closer, and Lyric tried to make himself smaller on the bench seat, folding back on himself, letting his ears fall.

“Look just let me in peace." He pled, squirming as the bear loomed over him.

“Get the hell out of my face!" The bear shouted, spit flying forth and splatting onto Lyric's face. His giant paws had balled into fists now, and the jackal sighed.

“Hey, what's going on in there?!" Some guards shouted, their keys jingling as they ran over to the cell. As it happened, an idea occurred to the jackal, and before he could question himself it was in motion. Lyric was a being of action, cerebral and articulate were the last words he'd choose for self-description.

Another guard growled as they reached the bars. “Cut the shit you lot!"

“I know who you are." Lyric whispered. “I know all about it, you'd best be shakin' in yer boots, pal. We found you." The bear nuclear, eyes bulging, mouth practically foaming as he raised both his arms overhead, roaring.

Before he could smash them down, presumably crushing Lyric's skull, the jackal kicked forward, his bare foot connecting with the bear's soft groin. The ursine wheezed, instantly folding, like a toy built to collapse at the press of a button. As his head reached level Lyric kicked him again in the face, sending him sprawling onto his back, stubby limbs waving.

The guards opened the door and stepped inside, drawing their batons as Lyric stood.

“Against the wall!" The Kallinger wolf barked, coming forward. Lyric ducked under his baton swipe and rammed an elbow into his stomach, wincing in pain as his body protested the quick movement. He shoved the guard over and went forward, crashing into the second and slamming them both against the holding cell bars. He heard a cry of pain and shoved his knee into something soft, scrambling to the side and dashing out the open cell door.

He managed about five or six steps before his wounded leg gave out and he sprawled forward, paws bouncing painfully off the concrete as he rolled over. He twisted to his back but then another guard was there, the baton coming down hard on his shoulders.

“Damn it, no!" Lyric cried, instinctively reaching for the gun he'd given Fletcher just a handful of hours ago. He caught a boot in the stomach and tasted bile, a rough set of paws grabbing his ankles and hauling him to an empty cell.

“Enough'a this you damned fool." The voice cried. “You ain't goin' nowhere fast son, when the good Baron sets his mind to do something – ain't nobody stoppin' it." Lyric went limp as he was tossed into the empty cell, the gate crashing shut, the lock quickly following, an unambiguous punctuation mark on his only chance at escape. Flinching from the pain racking his body, he looked up at the bars, at the three guards staring down at him, two of them nursing wounds, joking about how they wished they were allowed to shoot him – apparently Baron Vellem had expressly forbid it.

“Well." He muttered, chuckling. “It was worth a shot I s'pose fellas."

...

“What the hell are you?" Nadine said, when Dopesmoker sat down at the table, his hooded eyes meeting hers. She'd ushered in the others to her back room, shooing her few remaining cohorts away. “And what is that on your face?" Fletcher shook his head, they were wasting time.

“My name is Dopesmoker." The creature said matter-of-factly.

“You got a real name?" She asked.

“Not that I recall."

“Ignore DP." Thume said gruffly, introducing himself and Ursula. “You're gonna help us get Lyric out of his problem?"

“So you're Thume, pretty price on your head, or there was." Nadine added playfully.

“Was?" Thume asked, leaning in.

The wolverine laughed. “Yup, contract expired, Baron ain't gone and renewed. Word is Fulbright got a private party workin' the case now."

“Shit." Thume muttered.

“Mmm."

“That doesn't matter right now." Fletcher interrupted. He could feel the time bearing down on him. “What matters is that we've got about five hours until sundown, six if they're slow." He was forcing himself to relax, to remain calm and speak at a normal pace. But he knew deep down he couldn't allow Lyric to die. The jackal had saved his life, it was owed damn it, he wasn't the only one who got to play hero.

“First-" Nadine said tartly. “I wanna know, how exactly did you and the kid get outta Gallentry? I'm putting myself in yer paws here friend, I gotta have some guarantee." She was addressing Thume, and he sighed as he answered.

“We… joined up with the circus. You'd've seen the posters Nadine, the Midnight Meridian show. Fletch and I perform."

Nadine laughed out loud, looking between the two. “That is your plan?!" She exclaimed. “I'm thinking about backin' out now, that's a flimsy-as-flim fuckin' cover story."

“Trust me." Fletcher said. “Nobody looks twice at you, they just bunch all the freaks and weirdos together. We'll get as far as Kallinger at least."

“You better." Nadine said.

“What matters now." Dope said, calmly. “Is the plan. Let's not lose sight of that. Fletcher, you said you had an idea on how to do this, enlighten us?" The group all turned to look at him, and he felt suddenly inadequate.

Lyric would know. He thought. No, Lyric wouldn't even need their help, he'd just do it. But you're not him, are you? They continued to stare, waiting. had a look of separated amusement, while Thume continued to glower. Dope was unreadable as usual, and Ursula gave him an encouraging smile. He had to do his best, Lyric might have gotten himself into the mess – but the same could be said of Fletcher and the bounty hunters. Blood, gunpowder, the jackal tackling one of them to the ground like it was nothing, the images flashed in his mind.

I owe him this at least. He thought.

“I know we can't gun down all the law in town, and I don't wanna do that anyway, corrupt they may be." He explained slowly. “But, I think if we cause a big enough distraction, we can send most of 'em running to it and snatch Lyric 'fore anything bad happens."

“He ain't gonna be in a good state, Kallinger coppers do not have a good rep." Nadine said. “Not to forget he's prolly still licking wounds from that shit-storm a few weeks back, what caused this. We have to imagine we're gonna carry him out, anythin' more than that is a bonus."

“I could get him." Ursula said with surprising confidence. When she got quizzical looks, she shrugged. “He might be in handcuffs, or have a noose tied round his neck. My old boss, Mister Beguile, he had me in an escape artist kind of piece for some time. I can pick most normal locks, and knots aren't a problem to undo either." Fletcher blinked, chastising himself for underestimating the sergal.

“Well." Thume said. “Alright then." Nadine chuckled again. Fletcher scowled, he didn't like how much she seemed to be enjoying this.

Did they forget Lyric could die if we screw up? He wondered.

“So what kinda distraction were you thinkin' kiddo?" The wolverine asked him, still playing with her knife. “Cause I got ideas'a my own."

“I um," He began. “I was imagining we might, might set fire to the Baron's manor." They all blinked.

“You lost your damn mind boy?" Thume asked.

“No, it's perfect." Dope intruded. “Bantam likes to do its hangings out the front of their courthouse, a sacrifice to the temple of their so-called law and order – the Baron's manor is only a few blocks away. Everyone will see the smoke." Fletcher didn't add that part of the reason he liked this plan was that it would hurt Aleksandre Vellem. If the Baron was anything like his father, then the loss of his material hoardings would be a vicious blow to the ego.

“Maybe we also burn down their precious Desmond's Doorstop." Nadine suggested, immediately answering the question they were all thinking. “It's another dive, like Harriet's, but way more popular with the law. The amount of moonshine they got in there'll mean the damn place should near explode if we set it right."

“It will scatter them." Dopesmoker agreed. “Divide and confuse."

“They ain't just gonna abandon the condemned though." Nadine said slowly, massaging her paw. “I've got no problem gettin' my fur bloody."

“We hold them at gunpoint." Fletcher said firmly. “If desperate, I can try to shoot the guns out of their paws, or maybe hit their knees."

“Just how good a shot are you kid?" Nadine asked, sceptical.

“Good enough." Fletcher and Ursula said in unison. “Nobody dies." He added.

“It'll bring too much heat, yeah." Nadine said.

“And it's wrong." He added.

“Anyway." Thume said, refocusing them by banging his hand on the table. “Who goes where?"

“I've got a few favours owed in this sinkhole." Nadine said. “Me and some lads too stupid to ask questions can take care of the Doorstop."

“Okay, then me and Dope will wait at the courthouse." Fletcher said. “Thume and Ursula, can you two do the fire at the manor?"

“I can make you cocktails." Nadine said with a wink.

“That should be fine." The sergal said, glancing to Thume nervously. “Will we have to use guns?"

“There will be guards." Thume answered, his tone betraying frustration. “Hopefully not many."

“Hold up a second." Nadine said, raising her paws. “I ain't liking this. What's to stop y'all from gallivanting off without me?" She asked. “Nothin' I can do then. I'm taking the transformer." She motioned at Dopesmoker.

“No. Then Fletcher will be alone." Thume said firmly. “You'll have to actually trust us."

“It's alright." Fletcher said calmly. It was what Lyric would have done, had he been forced to create an uneasy cabal like this.

“Good." Nadine says. “Leave without me, and I'll kill him."

“Fair." Dope added.

“We're gonna have to fire shots, to help scatter the crowd." Thume said. “The hanging'll be busy, and we need to get in and out quick as the wind." Nadine laughed.

“You run into a crowd shooting off in the air like some cowboy, some random fella gone gun you the fuck down goat." She shook her head. “No, I got a better plan. Hol' up." Then she stood, walking into the back.

Thume shuffled closer to Fletcher. “Boy," He said in a hushed tone. “Are you really sure you wanna shuck up with this girl? I ain't gonna say it feels too right to me."

“We need extra paws." Fletcher said. “I don't like her either, but the second fire was a good idea – and she has favours, might help cause more chaos. That's what we need Thume, as long as it helps Lyric I don't care."

“Here ya go kiddos." Nadine said, dropping two large canvas bags on the table. “Take a gander, always wanted to use these, never had a chance 'fore now."

Thume pulled open the top, glancing in. What Fletcher caught a look of was like some sort of metal dog-face. Thume looked uneasy, swaying in place.

“This is Dead World tech." He said stoically.

“Too right." Nadine replied. “It ain't gonna help the robot, but the rest of us should be fine with one or the other. I've got one should work for you too cheese-head." She nodded at Ursula, who shied away.

“No." Thume said firmly. “This is not a good idea."

“Got body armour too." Nadine went on. “It's a special kind, but I only have two vests left."

“Is that the one filled with water?" Fletcher asked, perplexed. “I remember when Lyric came back wearing it." He shuddered, recalling the smell and sight of that much blood. He didn't know how the jackal could stand it, seeing that much death and destruction so regularly.

“Very same. Ain't water kid, but you get the idea, stops a bullet or two. Yer bed-buddy's alive ain't he?"

“Thume…" Dopesmoker said, sitting forward and laying a skeletal paw on the goat's shoulder. “I understand your trepidation, but these are just tools. Mindless, dumb. They are not the same as what we've seen." Thume sighed deeply.

“I can't." He mumbled, more to Dope than anyone else. “I can't put myself in that situation."

“You can." Dope said softly. “I will help you." Thume nodded, and Fletcher suddenly thought the goat looked very old and very frail. What had happened to him? Something had made him so broken and wild, and evidently it was something to do with Dead World technology.

“Cursed or not." Nadine said. “It'll help us mightily, as will this." A bottle of whiskey suddenly appeared in her paw. She poured a line of shots and shoved them over to each member of the group, and they all hefted them warily.

“Is this a good idea?" Fletcher asked.

“Keeps you loose." Nadine promised. “It's gonna be insane, but a few hours from now we'll be clean as a pricey hookers snatch. We go in, grab Lyric, and ride like hell's at our ass." Then she downed her shot. The others did likewise, slamming the glasses down.

“One thing though." Fletcher said, wincing at the acrid taste. “I don't think ride is quite the right phrasing."