Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
She had been staring at the screen for hours. Her face was starting to slide out of the hand propping it up. The only thing these dorks were doing was quietly putting liquids into tubes of other liquids. Mad science was so much more exciting in the movies.
Conrad and Zinc had gone off to the livingroom long ago. Junella assured them she could handle this. So the chummy duo were having a grand old time cooing over electronics while she sat on her ass staring at nerds. She overheard them messing with the VCR. Cheering when it finally connected up. Watching what could have been, from the sounds of it, either a horror movie or a porno. Junella didn't bother to get up and check. Not only could something important happen the lab at any moment, she wanted the boys to have their fun.
She was irritated at how much she envied them. She knew it was the mission keeping her apart from their giggles and reminiscing, but she could still feel the warmth from their conversation. They made it look easy.
Zinc swung into the room with another slice of pizza dangling from his mouth. "Yuh find ouf anyshfing new?" he asked.
Junella sighed. "Only that the pink guy talks to himself quite a bit. Mostly, almost exclusively, about how much he wants to get and/or eat pussy."
The mutt chuckled. He tipped back his head and vanished the slice in one gulp. "Sounds like one a' them, whattayacallems? Artistic savants? The ones that're both smart and dumb at the same time?"
Junella was about to raise an objection to that, but realized it wasn't actually inaccurate. "I can't quite see all he's doing, but he's been cracking open a lot of construct bones, then scrapin' out the marrow and boiling the shit out of it over a bunsen burner."
Zinc cocked his head to the side. "Weirdsville. Anyway, I just wanted to check up on ya. Y'want any more pizza? We got truckloads of leftovers"
"I'm fine. But thanks for the consideration," she replied.
"Cool. I'm gonna head back to the movie then. The dinosaur just bit some chick in half."
"Ain't it hard concentrating on it with one eye elsewhere?"
"Nah, I just tune the other side out." "He burped. "Welp! Lemme know if there's any breaking news! I trust you to pay more attention than I would." He tossed her a little salute and turned away.
"Right on." A tiny smile crossed her face as she watched him leave.
The skunkette crossed her arms and rested her cheek on them like a pillow. On the screen, the three scientists were still puttering away quietly. The other two ignored the pink one. His babble seemed like a nervous tic. Sometimes they'd murmur a question between themselves. Sometimes a fourth guy would come in, but his purpose seemed only to fetch them coffee.
It was a struggle not to fall asleep. Though Conrad inadvertently helped with that. His multi-mouthed laugh was positively polyphonic. She wondered where he'd gotten 'em. The forests here were full of traps, she knew. Some would just eat you. Others changed you into something different. Those kind pissed her off. She liked keeping control of her appearance, and always kept anti-transformation potions on hand. She remembered one persistent encounter where she'd had to come to the hospital here. A case of blue pimples that just kept growing and growing like water balloons. Ecchh.
Her mind asked, 'Why's it easier to think about that, than hearing those two laugh together in the other room?'
She snorted. 'That's an easy one, Miss Junella. Because when you always look on the cloudy side of life, it gets normal. Happiness gets to be something you shy away from, afraid it might bite. Gloom starts to feel comfortable. At least when I'm miserable, there's no disappointment. I'm already low. No place to fall down from.'
She watched the screen. Nothing changed on it to distract her away from her melancholy thoughts.
'Have I just been fighting against everything since I got here?'
She traveled back through her memory slideshow. Finding herself alone and attacked. Getting killed by nightmares till she learned to turn the tables. Getting good at it. So good that people were willing to pay her to protect them. It was nice to finally eat a hot meal that she didn't have to scavenge up herself.
'If my nature is to fight, then at least I found a use for it,' she thought. 'And business transactions ain't friendships, but they're better'n solitude.'
She smiled slightly. 'Maybe I am climbin' up. Just, slowly. So I didn't really notice it at first.'
The door to the lab was flung open with such force it sounded like a cannon shot.
Junella shrieked soundlessly and jerked to attention.
"Heyyyy! What's going on in here, boys? You look like busy little bees! Good! Good! I was on my way to the pissroom and thought, why don't I check on the wallflowers on my way back? Get a little progress update? You're missing a hell of a party, by the way."
The voice was a booming purr. A rumble soaked in honey. The man who had entered the room was draped in an ornate crimson robe with gold trim. He was only slightly taller than average, yet his presence made him seem like a giant.
Junella tore her eyes away long enough to shout, "GUYS!!! INTERESTING SHIT IS GOING DOWN!"
Sounds of two startled fursons attempting to pause a VCR while scrambling over each other to get to the workroom.
"What's happening!?" Zinc barked.
"Are we in trouble!?" Conrad whimpered.
Junella waved them over. The frog and mutt sandwiched her on both sides so everyone could see the little screen.
The man in the robe swept grandly around the room, arms crossed behind his back. He craned his neck over the cat scientist's workstation, casting a shadow with his antlers. "My, my goodness! Looks like complicated stuff, shorty! How's those grenades coming along?"
Junella had spent some time with the remote control, managing to finagle a spot on a middle shelf, using a leaning pane of safety glass for a ramp. They had a decent angle to watch the cat shrink back beneath his boss' grinning gaze.
"Uh, uh, uh... they're fine!!" he finally spat out. "Concussive. Lightweight. I'm working to increase the damage. You said not just to living targets, so I removed some of the inner shrapnel layer to make room for a wider core."
Pleased nodding. "Mm-hmm. How soon can I have a bushel-full?"
The cat calculated in his head. "If I don't sleep tonight, I can have the final model finished by dawn. Then we can replicate as many as we have imaginite for, I guess."
"FANTASTIC!!! That's great! Keep it up!" The man in the robe clapped his employee on the back. It looked like it hurt.
The cat struggled to keep smiling. "Th-thank you, Mr. Sulilong, sir!"
Junella had assumed as much, but the name was a nice confirmation. "Smile, asshole, you're on Candid Camera," she whispered.
Zinc scratched his head. "He's our guy? What is he? A dragon deer?"
If any of them had been familiar with Chinese mythology, they might have recognized him right away as a qilin. Zinc's assessment was fairly accurate. Sulilong had the body of a strong, regal stag. Broad-chested, like an athlete in his prime. His imposing set of horns brought to mind images of impalement. Tall, straight skewers. But his head was overlaid with a densely-set pattern of jade scales that scattered the light when he passed beneath a bulb. His face seemed crafted to make room for his broad, smiling mouth. A golden mustache draped down to frame it like theater curtains. His small eyes were shadowed beneath a heavy, bushy brow.
Sulilong left the cat to continue his stroll around the room. Taking in details. Pausing to read the notes on the corkboard. Unhurried. Methodical. The three scientists tried to crouch beneath his notice.
"The way he moves is... wrong shomehow," Conrad noticed.
Junella nodded. "Custom-built body. His head's the only part of him that's real; I read about it. From the neck down he's all iron. He's more Tin Man than you, Zinc."
The canine was silent, trying to guess whether or not his wrenches would stand a chance.
For a man with iron hooves, Sulilong made surprisingly little noise when he walked. He was precise in his movements. Controlled. As he surveyed the lab he let compliments flow freely. He nodded and listened. Asked questions. When the fourth guy came in with another cup of coffee for the skink, Sulilong reached over and took it for himself. He sipped. "That's not bad. I like a bit more cream in it though." The gofer rabbit nodded nervously and dashed out of sight.
The moose in the pink jammies had been scrunching himself lower and lower at his work station. But it is futile to attempt stealth when you have antlers big as catcher's mitts. Sulilong finally finished the preliminaries of his visit and swooped in beside him. The moose gasped and twitched like a mouse in a trap.
Sulilong put his arm around him. "And here's my wunderkind! My Jaziezal! You've got magnificent things to tell me, I'm sure. All that sweat on your forehead? You've been pushing your limits! I can tell! So!" he clapped his hands with a sound like a brass bell. "I am just bursting with excitement! How much better is our drybleed recipe this time?"
"Drybleed?" Zinc muttered. There were few concoctions in Phobiopolis that didn't ring a bell for him.
Jaziezal jittered so much he couldn't form words. "Buh-buh-buh-grrnk-ffft-uhhhh..." He made no attempt at eye contact.
Sulilong stretched out a finger to raise his employee's chin. Even in the dim light, the trio watching the screen could see that the qilin's hand was a dark, burnished grey, almost black. Like a well-maintained armored gauntlet. But it was also crafted like a marionette's. Each jointed section fit smoothly together, with small gaps showing the cogs inside.
"Jaziezal. Look at me."
Sputtering and shaking, the moose allowed his head to be turned. Their eyes met. "Eh... eh, boss?"
"Tell me good news. Please." His face was still smiling. His words were still a purr. But they hinted that his patience was not infinite.
Jaziezal gulped air and tried to speak coherently. "The st-stuff... the drybleed... it's... she's... there's no..."
"Take your time," Sulilong said, but clearly did not mean it.
The moose sucked in a long breath, then bulged his eyes out as he exhaled. "I can't! The bones...! It's a-already as concentrated as it can g-get! I boil and boil! Same results! It's n-not getting any stronger!"
Sulilong became a statue for a moment, creating an agonizing silence.
Beneath his looming shadow, Jaziezal quivered like a leaf.
The next words were a clear warning of impending dangerous territory. "Surely you're going to tell me more. Aren't you?"
Forcing himself to smile, the moose quickly changed the subject to a flask of red slurry. He held it up to the light. "B-but I made more, boss! More! See!? Ahead of schedule! Three days instead of f-four! Boss!?"
Sulilong raised both of his hands, slowly. Then he spread his fingers. He raised them up to rest upon Jaziezal's antlers.
The moose slumped a bit, just from the dormant weight of the iron.
Sulilong drew his words out with precise enunciation. "That's fine. More is good. We need more. The boys are shrinking by the hour. But, my dear friend, my little genius, more is not enough," He emphasized this last word with a hissed exhale. "Were they able to get through the wall the last time?"
"N-n-no, b-boss."
"You are correct." He pressed downwards a bit, making Jaziezal's head sink into his collar like a turtle. "The crux of this endeavor is to get through the wall. And if all we do is repeat our performance from last time, will that do the trick?"
"M-m-maybe!?"
Sulilong pressed down harder. "Maybe. Could be. The boys might have weakened the structural integrity enough to break through on a second round. But also, Coryza might have repaired and reinforced the damage by now. Did you think of that?"
"N-no, boss!" Jaziezal yelped, and there was a note of pain in his voice.
Sulilong's fingers clenched like a vise onto the velvet-covered bone of his employee's antlers. From their shape, it was almost like one set of hands clasping another. He pushed down harder.
Jaziezal shrieked.
"Do I ask much? Not really," Sulilong mused. His tone was reserved. Measured. "I only want you to do your job. That's all. Just your job. And what is your job, Jaziezal?"
The poor bastard was jerking around like a fish frying in batter. "P-POTIONS!" he screamed through tears. "MAKE 'EM!"
Sulilong pressed down harder. "Not quite."
The trio behind the screen heard the first sounds of cracking.
The qilin's mustache raised up as his smile grew wider. The voice flowing from between his clenched teeth was immune to the suffering it was witnessing. "Your job is to give me what I want. And I want Coryza. You promised me Coryza. You said your formula would give it to me. But it hasn't yet. It hasn't. Isn't that sad? It's almost as if you're not truly living up to your full POTENTIAL."
On that last word, there was a sharp snap. A jagged fracture appeared in Jaziezal's left antler, accompanied by a gut-wrenching wail.
Conrad stumbled backwards off his chair, looking like he was about to throw up. "I can't watch this," he blurted as he ran from the room.
Junella glanced briefly at Zinc, asking if he was about to follow.
The canine shook his head and stayed put.
She nodded: right choice. "We need to see this," she whispered. "We need to hate him enough to not hold back when we're face to face."
The cat and skink scientists were doing everything they could to play pretend. Their work was so very fascinating, they just couldn't turn their attention away from it. Meanwhile their colleague jerked and danced and screeched like he was in the electric chair.
Sulilong had to speak a little louder to be heard over the cries of pain, which annoyed him.
"Your JOB, you spazzy little egghead, is to MAKE. IT. BETTER. Stronger! I need my men stronger in order to break the wall. Does that not get through? Does that not compute!?"
Jaziezal said the worst thing he could have possibly said at that point, "I-I... can't!"
Sulilong held the pressure steady, but needed a moment to compose himself at such a slap in the face. "Do you know what I see when I look at you? A malfunctioning machine. I've put in my quarter, but it's not giving me my candy. What do I have to do to get my candy out? Now, you might think that kicking the machine in frustration would be a poor strategy. Ah! But if you kick the machine enough, it breaks open. Then you can just reach in and take all the candy you want. Isn't that right?"
"PLEASE, BOSS!!! PLEASE!! OH GOD!! STOP! BOSS! PLEASE!!"
Sulilong cocked his biceps like twin crossbows, then shoved down with so much raw strength that the left antler snapped like a tree branch. Jaziezal's scream was utterly mindless with agony. The heavy antler dangled down from his bleeding temple by a thin scrap of skin, flopping back and forth as its former owner twitched deliriously. Sulilong ripped it away and threw it across the room into a stack of shelves, breaking several flasks.
Jaziezal was a blur of twitching, noise, and tears. He swayed side-to-side on his chair, clearly unbalanced by the sudden loss of head-weight. Blood poured out of the hole in his scalp like a faucet. He tried to stem it with his hand, but poked himself on the needle-sharp shards of antler sticking out.
Sulilong flecked the mess off his hands, then placed them on Jaziezal's shoulders.
The moose's scream nearly broke all their eardrums.
Sulilong gritted his teeth. "Shut up," he ordered.
Jaziezal showed incredible fortitude in snapping back to his senses. He chewed his lip to keep it closed.
The green-scaled muzzle drew in till it was less than an inch away from Jaziezal's eyes. So the smaller man could see every microscopic detail of the words being formed. "I don't want to hear, 'I can't.' I want to hear, 'I'll try harder.'"
"I'll t-try harder, b-boss!!" the moose blubbered.
"Good. That's all I wanted," the qilin said, as if it was the most reasonable request in the world. "We have time. Coryza's not going anywhere. I can wait for you to brew me a stronger batch. But that is what you will do, Jaziezal. Let there be no ambiguity about it. For that is your job, and you shall do your job. Am I right?"
"Y-ye-y-y..."
Sulilong took in a long slow breath, held it, then exhaled, making Jaziezal's fur ruffle. "I am right. Do your job. Try harder. Give me results. Yes? Yes."
The shaken moose couldn't say anything more. He just rocked back and forth.
Sulilong gave him a cheerful little pat on the cheek. "Good." He turned away and headed for the door. "Oh, and clean yourself up, you fucking pig. You're bleeding all over the place."
He left and slammed the door behind him.
For a very long time, it was deathly quiet inside the small laboratory. Only the magnified sounds of lab equipment rustling in a pantomime of work, and Jaziezal's fluttering, quaking breaths.
The moose stared at nothing for a while. Tears, snot, and drool poured unnoticed down his face. Then a shaking paw climbed his neck to explore around his wound. The blood was turning black and jammy. A sharp triangular shard was the only remnant of his antler.
Finally, he spoke a very quiet, defiant, "F-fuck you," to the place where Sulilong had been.
He hopped down from his stool to leave. He was not so broken that he couldn't direct a gaze of incredible hatred at his cowardly colleagues for doing nothing throughout his torture.
The cat and skink kept their heads down.
There was a heart-stopping moment when Jaziezal seemed to be heading directly towards the rat-car. But he hadn't spotted it. He was after his antler, which he retrieved and started trying to slot back into place. He moaned and gurgled at the flashes of pain. But Phobiopolis was funny about healing. It was worth a try.
After he stumbled out of sight, Junella sat far back in her chair and just shivered. "I can't say I've never been that cruel to someone," she felt the need to confess. "I can only say they earned it."
"I've killed some folks before..." Zinc said hollowly. "I mean, it's Phobiopolis. Who ain't? But I never broke a guy like that." His brows drew down. "Kinda want to now. Show that big iron cocksucker what it feels like on the receiving end."
The skunk beside him nodded emphatically.
On the screen, the skink suddenly pushed himself away from his table. "I can't-" He flinched at saying the word. "I c-can't concentrate. I'm gonna go lie down for a while now."
The cat did not look up. "Fine. I have to keep working."
The skink looked back for just a moment at the wet stains on Jaziezal's work station. He clamped a hand over his mouth and quickly exited.
Junella looked instead at the flask.
Zinc scratched a cheek. "So, like, we got any plans now? I think we're done with our spy game. We got a good look. Doubt we'll see anything more revelatory than that tonight.."
Junella kept staring at the flask. "Conrad!!" she suddenly shouted.
To his credit, the frog popped back into the room with admirable haste. "Yeah?"
The skunk pointed to the screen and held out the remote control. "C'mere."
He took the controller, remembering now that they actually had to retrieve the car. "I think I remember the way back out. But the ramp might be closhed up by now."
Junella shook her head. "We don't leave until we do something about that bottle right there."
Zinc sat up a little straighter. "Shit! Yeah! That's a good head on your shoulders, Juney. If that's all the supply he's got, we can at least set him back a few days by smashing it."
She nodded. "Exactly my thoughts."
Conrad's teeth chattered. "Um, I've already forgotten what'sh in it," he admitted sheepishly. "I think those screams drove it right out of my mind." He shook his head.
"Can't blame ya," Zinc said consolingly. "To recap: Pajama-moose figgered out a way to take nightmare marrow, concentrate it, and turn it into superjuice. Makes kids grow up big 'n strong, yeah?"
"Right, right. Got it."
"Now, tadpole, drive the car as close as you can get, then ram the table. Knock it down."
"The cat guy might see me."
Junella sneered. "He's a yellowbelly. Won't do nothing but jump on a chair and yell for help."
Conrad trusted her assessment. Still, caution was the best first strategy. He eased the little car down the glass to the floor, then scooted it into the shadows. Even with the motor muffled doubly, the noise still seemed thunderous in the coldly still room.
The cat probably wouldn't have noticed gunfire though. He was focused on perfecting his grenade prototype with renewed determination. The ratcar snuck by easily.
Zinc kept his eye trained on the flask of gritty scarlet sludge. "It will give me great pleasure sticking a wrench in that dragon bastard's plans. I just hope he doesn't blame the moose guy for it and wad him up in the trash."
Junella hardened her heart. "Might happen. But he made the choice to buddy up with the devil. If it means trading his pain for all of Coryza's... Our choice is clear."
Zinc didn't like it, but he couldn't disagree. "Mash the motor, Conrad."
The frog backed up as far as he could. The flask was dead ahead, glinting in the light of the overhead bulb. "Will do." He jammed the trigger down and the ratcar shot forward at full speed.
The bottom of the table rushed up to fill their vision. There was a THUMP and everything went scrambled.
But there was no crash afterwards.
Conrad backed up again. They saw no broken glass on the floor. No spilled drybleed. The trio goggled at the screen, puzzled.
Zinc looked up at the table. The flask was certainly gone. He chuckled awkwardly. "Maybe it grew wings and flew-"
An impossible idea occurred.
He rolled his eye as far back as it could go and a shroud of red covered his vision.
Everyone just about shat a brick.
Junella started pounding on the boys' backs and jumping up and down. Zinc let out a cascade of disbeliving curse words. Conrad's mouths fell agape.
When Junella could finally control her fingers enough to make words she shouted, "IT'S ON TOP OF US! HOLY GOD HALLELUJAH AND HORSESHIT!!"
"I mean... a diaper is a pretty good cushion. And the flask had a flat bottom," Conrad muttered, as if trying to convince himself of the miracle.
"Jeeziss, Juney, what now!?" Zinc sputtered. "Wait! Conrad, do you think you can skedaddle outta here with it balanced up top like that!? Bringing it home's a fuck of a lot better than just smashing it!"
Junella nibbled her other fingers. "We could take it to Tessie. She'll know who can analyze it. Reverse-engineer it. Work up countermeasures..."
Conrad absolutely hated to bear bad news. "Zinc, honestly... there'sh no way. It could slide off at the slightest bump. I don't even know if I can get it out of thish room, much less all the way out of here and across the deshert!"
A gorgeous idea struck Junella's mind like a lightning bolt. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO!!" she exploded.
The boys flinched away, fearing she had gone loco.
Junella looked around the room, frantic. "Do I need pencil and paper!? Can I just call out for 'em!?"
"Calm down, toots!" Zinc urged. "Who?"
"The Vermillion!!" she screamed in his face.
Conrad squealed as he got it. "If they can deliver packages here, then why not... Oh, that'sh genius!!"
"Course it is." Junella always had time for a self-congratulatory grin. She got herself calmed down enough to remember the rules of Phobiopolis' postage system. "Zinc, all you gotta do is will them to show up. Do it."
The mutt nodded. "I'll try. Heart's going a bit fast for a concentratin' mindset." Nonetheless he looked around for a possible mousehole and figured an empty mug on the workbench would work. "Vermillion? Come out, come out, little guys?"
Prompt as always, a whiskered muzzle popped out of the cup and looked at Zinc, awaiting instructions.
Normally one directed them by thinking hard about whomever they were sending correspondence to. "So... can you go to where my other eye is? I've got a "package" waiting there for me."
The mouse said nothing, but managed to convey an expression of, 'Yes, you idiot, that's what we're for.'
"Swell. Bring us that shiny red bottle. And, hell, if you can manage it, the big fake rubber rat too."
Without hesitation, the mouse turned away and vanished.
The trio were on pins and needles. They looked amongst one another, not daring to say anything. Could it possibly be this easy? Could they dare hope to be so lucky?
Something knocked a box over in the livingroom.
Skunk, mutt, and frog caused a hell of a splash as they all vaulted out of their chairs and plowed through the slime to look around the corner.
Seven Vermillion had tipped over Conrad's popcorn bowl to use as an egress big enough to fit the ratcar through. And right beside it on the couch was the intact flask of drybleed.
The screams of joy were so loud and prolonged, several other tenants called the front desk to complain.
~~*-*-*~~
The flask was now corked and safely dumbfounded away in the nowhere that Junella stored her gun. Nothing in the world could get it back from her now.
She and Zinc stood in the hallway, dripping green from head to toe and grinning their asses off. They were both exhausted from the night's emotional rollercoaster. Conrad stood in his doorway, just as drained and just as happy. They had been saying goodbyes for seven minutes. None of them wanted it to end.
Conrad was still jiggling from chortles at Zinc's last joke. "Honeshly, I've never had a night like thish before and I never want to again! My nerves are in knots! My heartbeat probably won't shlow down til Thurshday!"
"But ya liked it, dincha?" Zinc said with a wry wink.
"Abso-freakin-lutely!!" Conrad burst out, then lowered his volume so the security guards wouldn't visit again. "That was 100% radical! Awesome and a half! We actually did honest-to-heck shuperhero stuff!!"
"All the ups and downs of it," Junella agreed.
"And none of it would've been possible without you, buddy. Thanks a million." Zinc shook the frog's hands in a very gentle wrench-grip. "You ever need a favor from me? You name it. Anything."
"Are you kidding, Zinc? I'm shtaying as far away from you two crazy people as I can!" he teased.
Everyone chuckled again, and winced at how sore they already were from excess good cheer. "Seriously though..." Junella said softly.
Conrad looked to her.
He didn't look ugly anymore. Not a bit. Not his clammy skin or his gaggle of gobs. He was just Conrad now. "I had a fun time tonight. Thanks. Sorry I was a bit rough at first."
"No problemo, mademoishelle."
The frog tried to play it off nonchalantly, but she could tell he was genuinely delighted. "And..." She rolled her eyes. "I guess I don't mind your slime no more."
His grin could outshine a lighthouse. "See!? See!? I told you you'd love it!"
Zinc guffawed quietly at his pal's sheer effervescence.
Junella came closer and ran a paw gently across the short amphibian's forehead. "You're an allright guy," she said, and leaned down to give him a little kiss on whatever mouth was closest.
Conrad would've fallen to the floor if the doorway hadn't propped him up.
Smiling genuinely for the first time in a long while, Junella turned towards the elevators and waved goodbye. "Be seeing you again sometime, tadpole."
Zinc would have said goodbye too, but saw there was no way the frog was any condition to process words. He tipped an invisible hat to his friend, then followed along behind his partner.
Conrad sat chest deep in slime and simply glowed with happiness. "The ladies... They can't get enough of me..."
~~*-*-*~~
Zinc and Junella headed back to the car. There were several interesting stains around it, from where the Killcanoe's automatic defense systems had deterred would-be joyriders.
The skunk felt a surge of confidence. "Take us back to city hall, Zinc."
He glanced at the buildings around them. There was always a clock in sight in Coryza. "Ya sure about that? It's gettin' kinda late. Walls'll be up soon."
"Tessie Crynight sleeps about as often as Hell freezes over. She'll want to hear about this. And Zinc, let me pose a question to you."
"I'm all ears," he said, and wiggled both of them. (Then adjusted the right one for about the dozenth time since he'd put it back on.)
The skunk's eyes seemed to gleam in the streetlamp light. "Do you wanna just call it a night and head on back to the Tatterdemalion? Sink into bed and let our troubles rest until the morning?" Her smile showed her teeth. "Or do you think you got enough energy left inya to go out 'n get some blood on our hands?"
He caught her drift. His tail started to wag. "Y'know, I was a bit tired a second ago. But now that you mention it... Yeah. I think I could stay up past my bedtime." He pounded his wrenches together, shooting sparks.
~~*-*-*~~
They stood in front of the deputy mayor's slithering tangle of silver-furred arms. Zinc had been tickled pink by the look of rage on Angelbull's face at seeing the two of them again.
"We've got a plan," Junella sang. "Though it means letting word out to the general public 'bout what happened to the wall."
Tessie's expression could have soured milk and withered an orchard. "I already don't like where this is going."
The sparkle in Junella's eyes did not falter. "It also means us bringing this Sulilong situation to a permanent halt tonight."
The chinchilla's eyebrow raised. "Keep talking."
~~*-*-*~~