RE: The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's
06-20-2016, 02:08 AM
“So,” Cassandra began, “what does it take to score a gig like yours?” She punctuated the query with a wide sweep of her arm, indicating the hazy inside of Room 102b (Intermediate Calculus).
Oh, right. The room was full of smoke. Probably a more important detail to point out, but Cassandra wasn’t currently taking in the details of anything except the neatly rolled cylinder in her fingers. “Also, what does it take to score some of this?”
“You can’t.” Wren pursed her lips; a perfect smoke ring came floating out before dissipating into the general fog of the room. “This place is more straightlaced than… than a lace-straightening factory.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s an underbelly to every city.” The PI examined the joint more closely, then threw caution to the wind and lit it. “Oh. Wow.”
“You said it. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
As if on cue, faint and angry noises began to emanate from the corridor outside.
Cassandra took a long drag, the end of the joint glowing brightly. “Guess we shouldn’t have kicked the rest of the students out, then?”
“Probably not.”
A furious knocking made itself known without. The thick wooden door fairly shook in its doorway, but the bolts held, and a muffled voice came inching through the cracks in the door. “We know you’re in there!”
“Piss off! We’re learning in here!”
The hammering stopped. “Please let us in,” another, more plaintive voice squeaked, “please.”
The two miscreants shared a glance. Wren silently raised an eyebrow; Cassandra shook her head, shaking loose a hitherto unnoticed old, disgusting corn chip previously lodged in the fedora’s hatband. Both grimaced and resolved to forget about it as soon as possible.
“Can’t you just...you know, curse them?” Hopping off their respective desks, they slowly crept towards the door.
“I have to see them to do that. Among other things.”
“Lame.” The demon hunter flanked one side of the doorway, while the prophet took a stand in front of it, crouched behind an overturned desk. “Like what?
“Various things. And it doesn’t always work the way you’d expect, either.” She began rummaging through a few abandoned backpacks. “I think I saw… hold on.”
The plaintive voice called again. “Please let us in.”
“Found it!” Triumphantly, Cassandra pulled a handle from the nearest schoolbag, which was followed by about a meter of brightly-shining metal. “Y’know,” her tone grew introspective, “no matter where you go, weapons all look the same.”
“No, seriously,” the first voice came through again, “we can help you. And more importantly, you can help us.”
“Bite me.”
“We can pay.”
“...with what? Lunch tickets?”
“Information,” piped up the plaintive voice, “and you won’t get it if the Prim catches us.”
Cassandra passed Wren a momentary glance. “I like information.”
“Yeah, like ‘what the fuck’s wrong with your school?’” Wren chimed in.
“Prim is, duh. Come on, let us in before she… Bad Allie, what’s our status?”
“No movement yet,” a third voice cut in, presumably that of Bad Allie, “But Teufels is patrolling the floor above us. Come on, let us in or I’ll turn the fire alarms back on.”
Another glance. “All right, but make it snappy-like, alright?”
This trifecta of bad girls reminded me of an old crew I had once. Bad Allie was their technical boy; she cut wires, diverted security, forged records. Plus, she had a rad jacket, all pockets and leather and chains, all that shit.
“That’s a rad jacket.”
“Thanks.”
Sad Jodie, the pale one with the pigtails and tiny voice, she was their go-getter. Espionage - real easy for a dead girl who can walk through walls.
“Wait, so you could have just walked through the door?”
“Sure.” Sad Jodie shrugged a semi-transparent shoulder. “We wanted to see if you’d let us in.”
And finally there was Mad Mandie - the doer. What needed to be done, got done. I’d’ve pegged her as the muscle, except she was pretty clearly leading this particular crew. She looked at me like I was shit she had to scrape off her shoe. I should really get used to that one of these days.
“That hat looks like shite.”
“Your face isn’t too shit-hot either.”
Mad Mandie’s lip twisted. “For the record, I was against this. I got outvoted.”
“Why all this fuss, then?”
“You conned your way into a teacher’s position.” Bad Allie said in admiration. “No one’s managed that before. Think of all the shit you could do!”
“That’s why we’re taking you to see the Ring,” Mad Mandie added, “and I hope she sucks you dry.”
“The ring?”
“The ‘Ring’.” Bad Allie corrected. “Head honcho. Bitch in charge.”
Sad Jodie raised a finger. “Bitches in charge.” The profanity sounded wrong in Jodie’s plaintive voice. “It’s complicated.”
“Shit’s always complicated with you, Sad Jodie.” Neatly, Mad Mandie shouldered one of the more weapon-bristling backpacks from off the floor.
Wren looked up sharply. “Where are you taking that?”
“It’s my backpack, dumbass. And no, we aren’t going to behead you behind some pot plants. The Ring wants you. She’ll get you.”
“I take it this is yours, then.” Cassandra hefted her scavenged blade.
“Yup.” Pause. “Nice choice. It’s one of my best.” Mad Mandie added, somewhat begrudgingly.
“Now kiss!” Bad Allie quipped, prompting a quick duck from a Mandie-fist. “I’m just sayin’...”
Oh, right. The room was full of smoke. Probably a more important detail to point out, but Cassandra wasn’t currently taking in the details of anything except the neatly rolled cylinder in her fingers. “Also, what does it take to score some of this?”
“You can’t.” Wren pursed her lips; a perfect smoke ring came floating out before dissipating into the general fog of the room. “This place is more straightlaced than… than a lace-straightening factory.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s an underbelly to every city.” The PI examined the joint more closely, then threw caution to the wind and lit it. “Oh. Wow.”
“You said it. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
As if on cue, faint and angry noises began to emanate from the corridor outside.
Cassandra took a long drag, the end of the joint glowing brightly. “Guess we shouldn’t have kicked the rest of the students out, then?”
“Probably not.”
A furious knocking made itself known without. The thick wooden door fairly shook in its doorway, but the bolts held, and a muffled voice came inching through the cracks in the door. “We know you’re in there!”
“Piss off! We’re learning in here!”
The hammering stopped. “Please let us in,” another, more plaintive voice squeaked, “please.”
The two miscreants shared a glance. Wren silently raised an eyebrow; Cassandra shook her head, shaking loose a hitherto unnoticed old, disgusting corn chip previously lodged in the fedora’s hatband. Both grimaced and resolved to forget about it as soon as possible.
“Can’t you just...you know, curse them?” Hopping off their respective desks, they slowly crept towards the door.
“I have to see them to do that. Among other things.”
“Lame.” The demon hunter flanked one side of the doorway, while the prophet took a stand in front of it, crouched behind an overturned desk. “Like what?
“Various things. And it doesn’t always work the way you’d expect, either.” She began rummaging through a few abandoned backpacks. “I think I saw… hold on.”
The plaintive voice called again. “Please let us in.”
“Found it!” Triumphantly, Cassandra pulled a handle from the nearest schoolbag, which was followed by about a meter of brightly-shining metal. “Y’know,” her tone grew introspective, “no matter where you go, weapons all look the same.”
“No, seriously,” the first voice came through again, “we can help you. And more importantly, you can help us.”
“Bite me.”
“We can pay.”
“...with what? Lunch tickets?”
“Information,” piped up the plaintive voice, “and you won’t get it if the Prim catches us.”
Cassandra passed Wren a momentary glance. “I like information.”
“Yeah, like ‘what the fuck’s wrong with your school?’” Wren chimed in.
“Prim is, duh. Come on, let us in before she… Bad Allie, what’s our status?”
“No movement yet,” a third voice cut in, presumably that of Bad Allie, “But Teufels is patrolling the floor above us. Come on, let us in or I’ll turn the fire alarms back on.”
Another glance. “All right, but make it snappy-like, alright?”
***
This trifecta of bad girls reminded me of an old crew I had once. Bad Allie was their technical boy; she cut wires, diverted security, forged records. Plus, she had a rad jacket, all pockets and leather and chains, all that shit.
“That’s a rad jacket.”
“Thanks.”
Sad Jodie, the pale one with the pigtails and tiny voice, she was their go-getter. Espionage - real easy for a dead girl who can walk through walls.
“Wait, so you could have just walked through the door?”
“Sure.” Sad Jodie shrugged a semi-transparent shoulder. “We wanted to see if you’d let us in.”
And finally there was Mad Mandie - the doer. What needed to be done, got done. I’d’ve pegged her as the muscle, except she was pretty clearly leading this particular crew. She looked at me like I was shit she had to scrape off her shoe. I should really get used to that one of these days.
“That hat looks like shite.”
“Your face isn’t too shit-hot either.”
Mad Mandie’s lip twisted. “For the record, I was against this. I got outvoted.”
“Why all this fuss, then?”
“You conned your way into a teacher’s position.” Bad Allie said in admiration. “No one’s managed that before. Think of all the shit you could do!”
“That’s why we’re taking you to see the Ring,” Mad Mandie added, “and I hope she sucks you dry.”
“The ring?”
“The ‘Ring’.” Bad Allie corrected. “Head honcho. Bitch in charge.”
Sad Jodie raised a finger. “Bitches in charge.” The profanity sounded wrong in Jodie’s plaintive voice. “It’s complicated.”
“Shit’s always complicated with you, Sad Jodie.” Neatly, Mad Mandie shouldered one of the more weapon-bristling backpacks from off the floor.
Wren looked up sharply. “Where are you taking that?”
“It’s my backpack, dumbass. And no, we aren’t going to behead you behind some pot plants. The Ring wants you. She’ll get you.”
“I take it this is yours, then.” Cassandra hefted her scavenged blade.
“Yup.” Pause. “Nice choice. It’s one of my best.” Mad Mandie added, somewhat begrudgingly.
“Now kiss!” Bad Allie quipped, prompting a quick duck from a Mandie-fist. “I’m just sayin’...”
***
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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Superhero 1920s noir | Multigenre Half-Life | Changing the future | Command line interface
Tu ventire felix? | Clockwork for eternity | Explosions in spacetime