[Flame]

”I’m sure it does,” Mystique replied to the chauffeur, her gaze lingering on the sleek limo for a moment more before moving on. Her expression was mild, politely interested, a small smile lingering at the fringes of her lips as she watched the father-son reunion. She guessed that it was one of those things that supposedly gave people the warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of their stomachs…or at least, that’s what the books said. She could have laughed at the thought, but she refrained from doing so. It seemed that it had indeed been quite a long while since the two had last seen each other, and apparently, both had a lot to tell each other about the ongoings that had taken place over a period of non-correspondence. It got her thinking though, was this what happened with all families? One would settle down with a mate, have children, and eventually, they’d all wander off in their own directions, never to even look back on their parents? This rendez-vous had apparently been one of lucky chance, and one would have guessed that father and son might never had met again had it not been for Sefiria’s little…mishap. Myst’s expression was musing as she mulled over things in her head, only half-listening to the ongoing conversation.

---

Bright gold eyes flitted from face to face as Sefiria listened to the banter between the two men, who apparently went by the names of Fioray and Demne. Indeed, they were unconventional names, but they were both unique, and personally, Sefiria liked them. She tended to go off on tangents once in a while, but it didn’t take her long to focus her mind back on the train of thought that the conversation was taking. The uplifting feeling of reunion was almost tangible to her, and she was more than happy to let the emotion sweep her off her feet, expressed in a vibrant smile which lit up her elegant features. As quickly as the euphoric feeling came about though, it took a near 180° turn, a new emotion crashing down like a wave upon the shore. Sefiria had the unconventional, but acute ability to sense emotions in others, a very sensitive sort of sixth sense which, if dominating enough, could easily sway her own emotions. She was caught by surprise when an overwhelming torrent of sorrow suddenly pervaded the air, so strong that it felt like a solid brick wall she had been slammed into. The smile on her features faded slowly, replaced by one of veiled consternation, the disquiet and mild alarm on her gentle visage barely hidden, due to the strength of the single emotion. The carefree sparkle in her bright gold eyes had been replaced with concern, and after her gaze flicked quickly from face to face, it came to rest on that of Fioray’s, her soft eyes questioning. It was naturally part of her persona to care for those in pain or sadness, as not doing so would hurt her as much as it did them. His visage clearly stated that he didn’t want anyone’s pity though, so she simply bit her lip and held her tongue, eventually allowing her gaze to drift back to the conversation, although it occasionally flitted back to Fioray, a veiled concern still glimmering in their depths.

---

Mystique, although not as fine-tuned to emotions as Sefiria was, noticed that the mood had changed slightly, but Fioray had already brushed it off by the time she looked over at him. Having known Sefiria for years now though, she could tell that something was not quite right, but knowing her, decided that holding her silence would be the wisest course of action.
”A soap opera indeed, sir,” she laughed. ”Have you ever considered going into the field yourself, like your son?” Her tone was half-joking as she replied. Indeed, it would be quite interesting to watch a soap opera on a pair such as these two. ”You’ll have to inform me if and when it comes out.” She grinned at them, trying to lighten the atmosphere again. At Fioray’s comment about the kidnapper, she turned to him. “It’s true, we might be able to track him down, but perhaps there has already been enough violence here for one day. It’s really up to you though…I, for one, am not used to all of this action in one day. You see, it’s generally quite quiet back at home.” And rather dull and lifeless as well…she added to herself, half wistfully, although her face betrayed none of her thoughts. Sometimes, one could use a little action once in a while in their life.

[Freezair]

"Well, they keep me chained to the set, you know," Fioray shrugged. "I got the bodyguards and the manservants everywhere, and... Well, you know how things happen. I'm surprised you've never seen the posters! Or the trailers, or--I mean, it's not like I'm all that ordinary-looking." He rubbed the back of his neck, messing up the finely-brushed fluff he'd set up on top of his suit collar. "...I guess we've both been out of touch, huh.

"...So, uh. Tale's got kids, now? Nice, I think... What're their names? I haven't... Haven't met anyone myself, no." A flashback of five minutes prior hit him full in the face. Myst coming flashing out of nowhere, and him--glued to that schmuck's arm--making eyes and cooing like a lovesick Mr. Wilson! He was covered in fur, but underneath it all, his skin burned. No wonder he couldn't find anyone, Dad must be thinking--obviously he was the sort who liked making eyes at every girl that passed--he felt so stupid! He would have buried his hands in his paws if it wouldn't make Dear Old Dad ask why.

Wodehouse stepped in front of them, his head bowed in respect like it always was. In his cool voice, he said, "Well. Whatever you so choose, I am only more than willing to help. If it is recuperation you need, I can certainly help you find any sort of respite you might need... A hotel, a phone, a restaurant, the police... I serve, so if you need, ask."

Fioray sighed. "Yeah. How about... Wodehouse, couldja... How about some lemonade from the car? Not--not the hard stuff, just... Just some regular ol' school-kid lemonade. You--all you guys like lemonade, right? 'Cuz I can get you all something else, if you--if you don't like--"

But Wodehouse had already begun to shuffle off.

[6]

[MillietheWarrior]

Fioray shrugged. "I'm not into media. I like to keep to myself," he said, matter-of-factly. The red-eyed man only smiled, nodding his head. He was a bit surprised to have found his son here. It was startling, to say the least. "Guess we have, son," he said at last. He glanced at Mystique. "Nah," he grinned. "I don't think  could ever get used to all that attention. But maybe Demne will write a book or something about our family..." He shrugged one shoulder in an off-handed kind of way, before turning to Demne. "Yep. There's Barb, Eugene and Bell. Bell doesn't live with us anymore though."

He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his eyes occasionally drifting to Sefiria, wondering why she kept staring at him. Shaking off the feeling that he was being scrutinized, Fio clapped Demne on the shoulder. "Lemonade sounds good, son. But anything sounds good right about now." He ran a tired hand over his face, feeling the long days he'd spent in Jawan taking a toll on him. And this little incident didn't help. "This sure has been a long day, hasn't it?" he asked to no one in particular.

[6, 109]

[Flame]

”Oh, no thank you. Truly, I’m quite alright.” Sefiria gave the chauffeur a reassuring smile the tugged gently at the corners of her mouth, gratified at his concern. It was true, that hadn’t been the most careful handling that she had underwent, but luckily, the worst she had come away with was probably just a few bruises that would heal relatively quickly. She did actually have some minor healing abilities of her own: Magic ran in her family, although it hadn’t been something that she had actively pursued. Her ability might not be very powerful, but it did come in handy every once in a while. As she glanced back at Mystique, she started slightly when she saw the severity of the bruising which was now coloring the dark-haired woman’s right knuckles, the result of clocking the man directly in the back of the head with her bare fist. Fretting, Sefiria deftly grabbed the injured hand, although with an uncanny delicacy at the same time. ”My, my…we can’t just let you walk around sporting a giant blueberry for a hand, now can we?” she tutted, warming up her healing power to fix most of the swelling and bruising. Myst made as if she were about to protest, then resigned herself to the treatment. She should know very well by now that if Sefiria had set her mind on doing something, there was no use wasting her breath on trying to dissuade her. Even with guts enough to punch a much larger man than herself, she didn’t want the supposedly innocent little blonde angel mad at her. She raised exasperated brows over Sefiria’s head at the two onlooking men, sighing dramatically.
”I saw that.”
Mystique chuckled, then watched as the girl’s hands glowed faintly gold, feeling a warm rush flood into her hand. Within a minute, the bruised knuckles had been restored to their usual functioning order.
”Now I’d advise you not to go around doing such foolhardy things on a regular basis,” Sefiria chided her. ”One day, you’ll end up doing something and there won’t be anything that I can do to help you.”
”Your wish is my command.” Myst grinned back at Sefiria, who merely brushed off the teasing statement without comment. Her attention had flicked back over to Demne, studying him for a moment as a wash of turbulent emotion cascaded from him. Any other person would have laughed, guessing what the embarrassment was about, but Sefiria simply acted as if she had noticed nothing out of the ordinary, allowing the young man time to recover his composure.

”Oh my, we certainly have forgotten our manners, what with all of this excitement,” Mystique suddenly said to Sefiria, shaking her head. ”I suppose formalities are to be exchanged? It’s certainly unusual for people to go through strange ordeals such as ours, and not even know each others’ names.” Well, she had actually gleaned the names of the two men from their previous conversation, but mentioning it would have been quite rude and unladylike.
”I go by the name of Mystique, Myst, if you wish, and my companion here is Sefiria.” She gestured with an elegant hand towards the dress-clad girl standing next to her, who smiled at them in response to her introduction.

”This sure has been a long day, hasn’t it?”
”Mmmm, indeed,” Myst murmured in agreement. There had certainly been quite a lot of excitement that day, and she was quite ready to take a break from all the action. Fioray seemed the picture of weariness, and as if out of nowhere, Sefiria reached out a delicate hand to touch his shoulder, a small, soothing gesture, instinctively letting a small wave of energy to help ease the exhaustion. As her mind caught up with her instincts though, she quickly drew back, her gold eyes somewhat worried. ”I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said hurriedly, unused to having this sort of restraint on her actions, which usually came impulsively.
Seeing the discomfort, Mystique quickly stepped in to try and steer the conversation somewhere a little less awkward. ”I’m sure we’re all quite tired from that little adventure,” she said, her tone even as she glanced from person to person. ”How about we find somewhere to sit and chat? At least then we wouldn’t have to suffer the risk of being mowed over by any other kidnapper who decides to make a getaway down this little street.”

{Hehe, only a week more of exams to go, and I should be replying regularly ^^}

[Freezair]

Demne shied away from his father's hand. He was--glad, he supposed, to see his father again. But he had a thing when it came to people. In the picture business, friendliness was a warning sign, especially right off the bat. Someone being friendly to you right off the bat was trying to get under your skin, abrade your defenses, and, eventually, use you. Oh, almost certainly, his father had nothing but good intentions and simply wanted to be all father-son-bonding-y. But Demne couldn't resist his reflexes. And he'd called him--well.

"It's--it's Cookie these days, Dad."

Wodehouse shuffled back into his frame of reference, and he felt his whole body quiver. Wasn't that supposed to be a sign of someone walking over your grave? The erstwhile Anera proffered a tray arranged with highball glasses, each filled to the brim with water and ice.

"Guess you missed the memo about lemonade, huh?"

"I hope this will suffice," his chaperone replied.

"Well, let's, uh--we apparently are going to find somewhere to sit down. Apparently.--Uh, call the promotions people and tell them I can't make the premiere, due to, um--say family issues."

"Will do, sir."

He picked up one of the water glasses. "Umm... Maybe you'd like some ice for your knuckles, Miss. Um--I think there's a park around here where we can sit? Maybe?"

[7]

[MillietheWarrior]

"Cookie?" Fioray wrinkled his nose slightly, and then sighed in that 'what are you gonna do?' way. Maybe it was the fate of all fathers to find out strange things about their children. Demne wanted to be called 'Cookie.' That was one of those strange things. "All right then, kid. You know your ma always did love that name...I prefer Demne myself. But it's your choice, an' I respect that." Fio suddenly felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and, startled, looked down to see Sefiria's hand glowing softly. He glanced back up at the woman, curious, but made no move to pull away.

"Don't worry 'bout it, little lady," he said with a smile. "Just what I needed to get rid of all those sore muscles I know I'm gonna have tomorrow. I think I'm getting too old for this." He turned to Demne and stared hard at Wodehouse, as if just noticing he was there. "Got yourself a butler, kid?" he asked his son curiously as Wodehouse agreed to call...Promotions people. "And I assume you were on you way to some 'big premiere,' am I right? I think family issues would be a good way of putting it."

He winked, and then shoved his hands into his pockets. "Enough chitchat, folks. Let's head on over to yonder benches and grab a seat." He started easily across the street, his pace slightly uneven as his heavy boots thumped against the sidewalk. It was just how he walked.

[Flame]

"Mystique," the taller of the two women replied at the slight pause in Demne - apparently Cookie - 's statement. She looked down at her hand briefly, flexing her fingers experimentally. "I think that they'll be alright," she replied with a small smile at Cookie. So Sefiria's minor healing did come in handy every once in a while. She knew that she would certainly be thankful for the help tomorrow, when she otherwise would have woken up with an all but useless appendage.
"Thank you," she said gratefully to the chauffer of the limo (Wodehouse, was it?) as she picked up a glass of water in a rather fancy glass, handing one over to Sefiria before taking one for herself and sipping the chilled beverage, thankful for it on this warm day. "Oh, I hope that we're not keeping you from your business, are we?" She glanced over at Wodehouse, who was apparently off to notify the 'promotions people' of their sudden "absence".

Sefiria returned Fioray's reassuring smile rather tentatively, as if still a little unsure of herself. She was still in the process of grasping the little social formalities which restrained the rest of "civilized society", ones that she herself had not been brought up with. Well, at least she had good teachers. She thanked Myst and Wodehouse as she accepted her glass of water, her delicate fingers playing across the icy surface as she held the cup, creating clear tracks across the foggy glass. She had never truly had a family of her own, so she couldn't know that the banter being exchanged between father and son might not be the generally accepted definition of a "normal" family. To her, it was intriguing, yet baffling, all at the same time. Finally, when Fioray addressed the whole group once more, her eyes flicked back up from her glass of water to see him already ambling away, and Mystique beckoning her to do the same. Thus, they set off at the man's leisurely pace towards the calling seats.

[Freezair]

"Not at all," the Anera said personably. "My job is simply to attend to Mr. Antipode here. If he persists in following you, then I shall persist in following him."

"Thanks, Bert," Cookie said, taking a glass. "You--don't mind if I call you Bert, do ya, Wodehouse?"

"If you wish to, you may," Wodehouse nodded.

"Gotcha, Wodehouse."

The Anera sighed when Cookie turned to follow the others to the benches.

Demne plopped himself back against one of the green metal benches, falling back against the seat. He rolled the cold glass between his palms, sipping it loudly. "Sooo! From the looks of things, everyone'll be OK... Well, now what? You guys are absolutely positively certain you don't want to chase that guy. Like, not at all. For serious. Because I can totally do that for us!"

"They've already expressed their desire to let him be," Wodehouse said simply. "Perhaps you should merely relax, and enjoy the fact that you are now getting to spend time with your father."

Still not quite entirely happy, Demne said, "Yeah. Fancy that."

[8]

[MillietheWarrior]

Fioray plopped down next to his son, patting the bench to the side of him for the two women. He gave Cookie a very odd look, scrunching up his nose, and sighed. "You got weirdness all around ya, kid," he said at last. "But that's what our family is all about." He patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, as if unsure of how to go about being a father to a son he'd barely seen for more than a few minutes of his life. Fio stared at Wodehouse, curious about the strange man, before apparently taking it as an odd perk of his son's career. He leaned his arms over the back of the bench, looking the picture of calm. He didn’t seem ruffled by the days’ events, nor did he seem the finicky, over-protective, smothering father than any man who had just been reunited with a son might be.

He turned slightly to Mystique and Sefiria when Demne asked to chase after the man who’d nearly captured the small, shy woman who was now known as Sefiria, when Demne’s last words caught him slightly off guard. “Well, don’t get too excited to see your dad after all this time,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed and...hurt. “Ah well.” He turned to Sefiria and Mystique, curious now. “Say, little lady,” he said, nodding his head at Sefiria. “Why was that man after you, anyway? You owe someone a lot of money or somethin’? Take a loan out on a house? Rob a bank?” He blinked as if suddenly realizing something. "By the way...The name's Fioray, if I didn't tell ya before. But you can call me Fio."

[Flame]

Following the two men, Sefiria and Mystique took the pro-offered seats, the former sighing softly as she sat, glad for the short break from her peaceful-turned-hectic day. As the two men talked, the two women looked on with polite interest, although there was a sharp attentiveness in Mystique's eyes, ones accustomed to catching every little detail and analyzing it before storing it away. She noted Cookie's slight discomfort, as well as Fioray's relaxed air of calm. She supposed that it must have been experience that allowed him to take part in a street brawl, yet seem completely at ease afterwards. Even with her small part in the actual fighting, Myst still felt a little lightheaded from all of the action. Taking another sip of water, she found that it helped to settle her nerves. "No," she said slowly, after a pause in reply to Cookie's offer. "As much fun as that sounds, I think that there might be more action than we're asking for." A small frown furrowed her brow as she reflected on the attack. She supposed that she had been expecting one eventually, considering the lull in the clashes between her allies and them. The younger woman had no part in the conflict though, so why would they have targeted her? They couldn't have had a bone to pick with Sefiria...could they?

Sefiria's attention was piqued again as another wash of emotion flooded the air. Discomfort on Cookie's part, and...injury on Fioray's. This time though, she shook it off, her focus coming back to rest on Fio as he addressed her. He brought up a good point: Why had the man been after her, of all people? She'd never seen him before in her life, so she couldn't see why he had chosen her as his target. Probably just one of those kidnappers, she thought, mentally shrugging to herself. "I'm not quite sure myself, personally," she said, her gold eyes pensive. "Then again, people do the strangest things for the strangest reasons." She offered Fio a small smile in reply. "I'm Sefiria...and I suppose I don't really have much of a nickname." She shrugged. "Feel free to call me whatever you'd like, since 'Sefiria' can be a bit of a mouthful." She felt Myst's eyes (and concern) on her, and turned to glance at the dark-haired woman, her gaze questioning.

"I have the feeling that there was more behind that attack than you think." Mystique's eyes were unreadable as she studied her companion. She sighed, rubbing a temple with the hand that wasn't cradling the glass of water. "I suppose there couldn't be any better or worse of a time to read you in on this, even if you personally have no part in it." Taking a breath, as if to steady herself, she launched into her monologue. "Well, you might have heard of the conflict between some of the people back home and a certain rebel group which resides outside of the mistress's purview. The insurgents are led by the Chaotic Mekkayena, Serissa, who has it out for a certain member of our number, and is determined to...terminate him, we believe. The violence has been raging between the two sides for goodness-knows-how-long now, and Serissa has been known for using more...underhanded methods to get her way." She paused for breath, her aquamarine eyes grave as she studied her companion, the two men momentarily forgotten. "I believe that she wants to use you as a pawn against us, despite the fact that you aren't embroiled in this madness, for she knows that any of us would risk our lives to come after you." Another pause. "Which is precisely what she wants." Her speech finished, Myst looked back down at her glass, tracing the rim with a finger as she waited for someone to speak.

For the moment, Sefiria remained silent, letting the weight of the issue sink in, thinking it over. She wasn't sure how she felt about the situation. Perhaps she just needed a little more time to mull it over.

{If you'd like, I can pull the big baddie back...with reinforcements? xDDD Depends on how much action you guys want in the RP :3}

[Freezair]

((I like action! Cookie's ill-suited for it, but that's kind of why it's fun. XD But whatever Millie says...))

Demne looked solemnly into the ground, trying to find an appropriate response for his father. ...Nope. He always was lousy at improvisation. Probably because he was rather unsure at the heart of it all.

...Wait! Ah! Topic change! Now they were talking about what had happened to Sefiria. "You're not famous too, are you?" he asked. He felt like he was joking about it. He also felt like that was kind of... wrong. Well, his dad did it first, didn't he? He couldn't be seriously asking if she'd robbed a bank, right? But... she'd been assaulted, nearly kidnapped, and goodness knew what else might have happened. Could you just run straight into joking once that happened? "--I mean," he interrupted himself, forcing his face serious, "Could you've made enemies or something?"

Cool as an ice-cream van, Myst glided in, explaining with all the ease and nonchalantness of a professor that, yes, someone could very well be out to get her, due to--well, here he lost it. If it were a film pitch, it would have been convoluted and difficult to follow, due to the pitcher knowing things about the pitch that the pitch-ee didn't, but thinking they did, and--now he'd confused himself!

He made the Cliff's Notes version in his head, though it mostly consisted of "This crap = whack."

Hanging on the edge of the bench' Wodehouse's crosslike amphibian pupils widened. "...This sounds especially grave," he said in his rough, gravelly croak. "I insit on trying to help you find safety. The least because I do not wish to drag any casualties among the three of the rest of us into this..."

[9]

[MillietheWarrior]

((Sure! ^^ That sounds like fun! Whatever you guys feel like doin'.))

Fio looked thoughtful. “I agree with Myst...But ‘c'est la vie,’ you know? Whatcha gonna do? Ain't much that can be done, really.” He raised an eyebrow at Mystique’s explanation, finding it quite interesting, amusing, and troubling at the same time. He had no idea why it bothered him; it just did. As was such with many things in life, he had no explanation. Maybe it was the thought of these two women being caught up in something like this, or maybe it was just the fact that he disliked Mekkayena, despite being acquainted with two himself. He didn’t know. So he shrugged it off, as he did with all problems that confused him. Fio liked to keep things simple, and simple they stayed. Today had been a somewhat complicated day, full of complicated deeds and complicated feelings. It was starting to wear thin, but he never seemed to be overly affected by it.

His air of relaxation and calm never faded, nor was it dented in any way. He just took it all in stride. Fio turned his gaze to Wodehouse, and cracked a roguish grin. “Ah, no worries, mack,” he said casually, waving his hand as if to dismiss the thought. “From what I saw, Myst can take care of herself...Not so sure about Demne,” he continued, not catching the fact that he still used the name he liked most. He clapped his son on the shoulder, his eyes twinkling to suggest he was just joking. “I think we all got this well in hand...” He draped his arms over the back of the bench, crossing his boots over one another as he leaned back. “So this...Serissa dame,” he said casually, looking quite uninterested. But there was a keen glint in his eye, which meant he wanted to glean as much information about what the two women were dealing with as possible.

He didn’t know why he cared so much, but, like all things, he just took it in stride. He had a feeling it had to do with Sefiria being so innocent, and Mystique, who seemed charming enough, being caught up in something that sounded so...brutal. “She's got goons and thugs who do her dirty work? You ever thought about goin’ after her, instead a’ the underlings?” He shrugged a shoulder. They may have already tried it. “She can’t be all that powerful if she’s got hired muscle takin' out the trash for her. I bet you could find someone who could take 'er out easy enough. It probably wouldn't be a problem if you found the right person.”

[9, 112]

[Flame]

A beaten, bruised, and all-around abused man sped down the road as he hastened to get away from this cursed city of Jawan, wincing every time he hit a bump in the road which jarred his aching head against the headrest. This stupid mission…of course he was always the one sent off to do the dirty work, but today was a low, even by his standards. After all, kidnapping a lone young woman off the street should have been no problem at all, but he hadn’t reckoned that she would have back-up. Dear Zu’hai, he would never hear the end of this one. As he drove, he pondered on his options. There weren’t many. He knew that the boss would be extremely unhappy with him when she heard that he had failed, and just the thought of her wrath made him writhe inside with dreadful anticipation of punishment he would receive. He couldn’t make a run for it either…it wouldn’t take her long to hunt him down, and he had a hunch that she would do it personally. If he returned to her, she would come close to killing him, but if he ran, she’d kill him for sure. He had to swerve back into his lane as an oncoming truck blared its horn at him for drifting across the yellow lines: All of this thinking of his own doom was making his already aching head hurt even more.

Suddenly, something cold wrapped itself around his neck, slowly tightening like a noose. For a split second he panicked, how could she have known so quickly? His hands left the wheel to scrabble at his constraint, which was gradually cutting off his source of air and the car swung dangerously as he slammed on the brake when a soft, velvety voice hissed in his ear. ”Hello, Tempessst.” Miraculously, the car came to a screeching halt half off of the road where it sat, tires smoking. A glance at the rearview mirror confirmed his misgivings. Serissa had sent backup. He gulped. ”Good day, Ebony, Pyro.” He had to work to keep his voice from squeaking, both from fear as well as the fact that he couldn’t breathe. ”How did you know to find me here?” A juddering hiss which was unmistakably laughter sounded by his ear. ”The boss had a hunch that you wouldn’t be able to handle the situation on your own,” replied the Obsidian Slydra, known as Ebony, who now occupied his back seat, her whip-like tail wrapped around the man’s neck. Her brother, Pyro, looked on with a smirk on his reptilian maw. ”Seems like you’ve lost your touch, my friend. After all, how hard could it be to kidnap a lone little girl off the street? She didn’t even have a purse to whack you with.” The two in the backseat snickered at the joke. ”You’ve certainly fallen upon hard times if a mere child can clean your clock like this.” Disdain dripped from her voice as she spoke, her grip on his neck growing even tighter. ”Don’t kill him, Eb,” the second Slydra pipped in. ”The boss won’t be very happy if you get to before she does.” His voice was dry, but there was a wry humor in his tone.

The female Slydra sighed, giving the unlucky Tempest one last, less-than-gentle squeeze before releasing him. Gasping, the man massaged his sore neck, yet another insult (and injury) to add to his collection. ”You don’t understand!” he protested. ”She had a small army on her side!” He turned in the seat to glare reproachfully at his two passengers. ”Sure, Mr. Hulk…whatever you say.” Ebony rolled her eyes at him in disdain. ”Just get us back there so that we can get your mess cleaned up, you good-for-nothing excuse for a kidnapper.” Oh wonderful. This was just what he needed, another run-in with that bunch. At least now, he had some more brawn with him, and if they were beaten again, he would be sure to make a quick getaway and leave those two to be taught a lesson. Still muttering under his breath, he started up the car again, pulling it around and making a beeline back for the city.


---


”No…at least, not that I know of.” Sefiria shrugged as she replied to Cookie’s question. She really didn’t have anything to do with all of this madness: She just happened to be one of those people who got dragged into whatever mayhem happened to be taking place at the time. Call it a knack of hers. ”I believe she just got caught on the wrong side of the fire,” Myst added, shaking her head. ”It would be like Serissa to make however low a blow necessary to hurt us.” Her aquamarine gaze rested on her companion, worry coloring their depths. ”As hard as we try, we can’t keep an eye on everyone at the same time.” A small, dry smile touched her features. ”Especially her,” she said, nudging Sefiria with an elbow. ”She seems to be an unsuspecting magnet for trouble. As soon as I take my eye off of her, some kind of danger always swoops down on her.”

”I wish it were that simple,” Mystique said in reply to Fio’s comment. ”You see, this war has been going on for years now, and neither leader has been able to find the other, or get close enough to do any serious damage. Thus, most of the violence takes place between the “underlings” and those who are unfortunately caught in the crossfire.” She patted Sefiria’s arm. ”Now it’s become a matter of luring the head honcho out of her lair to end this once and for all, but she’s wily, and it would mean certain death to underestimate her.” She paused to let the information sink in. She had no idea why she was letting these two strangers in on this, but she figured, as long as she was going to tell them, she might as well do the job fully. ”As for finding the “right person”, well, either we haven’t found them yet, or they don’t exist.”

[Freezair]

"I know some good ones!" Cookie put in. Well, there he went, feeling all wrong again. He sounded enthusiastic. That was all wrong! What was his motivation? Trying to save a girl's life. Stop a fight that had been going on for years. An utterly grave matter of Life and Death.

...Do something cool and feel like a Big Dang Hero. He would have sighed were he not in the middle of trying to articulate himself on a different matter.

"People, I mean," he said. "You know, Bodyguards to the Stars. They can do things like take people out with knitting needles and ferret out people hiding on the underside of trucks! And... stuff. I know the right people! You say the word, man! I can get 'em."

Wodehouse sighed. "If you don't mind me saying, sir--even the finest police of the nation often have trouble with lords of the underworld. Even dear old Caprice may have trouble with this sort of situation. Our desire for nobility aside... perhaps we should observe the battle, but retreat from the war--"

"No, no!" Cookie pounded his palm with his fist. "We can do this, Wodehouse! I mean, look at us! Look what we got! We got the people, we got the cash, we know a couple gorillas--I think we can make a valuble contribution here! When Cookie Antipode wants something done, it gets done! You don't doubt me, do ya, Wodehouse?"

Wodehouse peered into the sidewalk. "'Doubt' is... not the particular word I would use."

"See?" He looked proudly at Sefira and Mystique. "We got this. Let us help you; no sleezeball is gonna come within a hundred feet of you."

[10]

[MillietheWarrior]

Fio grinned at Sefiria. "Well, little lady. Seems like trouble follows you like abig, unhappy, black cloud. But Myst has got a good eye on you, so don't you worry." He winked boldly, not at all embarrassed by being so forward. Fio didn't much fear anything, and nervousness, anxiousness and embarrassment were pretty hard to come by when it involved him. He seemed to exude confidence. He sat up a bit straighter, his eyes staring off into the distance. He listened closely to what Myst said, but he had the strangest feeling that they should've high-tailed it out of here by now. "Neither leader?" he repeated suddenly. "You mean there's two? Who's the other one then?" He growled slightly, folding his arms. "Why don't you get the other leader to do this himself? Maybe he should get off his backside and lure that Serissa dame out on his own."

Fio had to repress the urge to sigh as Cookie jumped in, a kind of boyish excitement etched into his features. As the father observed the son with a discreet eye, he noticed how young Demne looked. He had a twinkle in his pumpkin red eyes; eyes that, Fio noticed, were exactly like his own. Fio suddenly felt very old...He was a great grandfather, for goodness sake, and here he was, sitting with what he considered to be a bunch of young kids on a park bench, discussing evil plots and mob bosses. The situation was suddenly very surreal. He reached out and tugged on Demne's collar to pull him back, shaking his head. "Whoa there, son," he said, sounding slightly amused, but also fairly annoyed.

"You can't just go crashing around in other people's business. Stuff like this...It ain't something you wanna get caught up in. Especially if they send their goons after you; and if you get involved, you can bet they will." He turned then to Mystique, and ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. "Look, Myst...I like you and Sefiria there. Your good people. But my son is jumping into this a bit too quickly. I'd prefer if we got a few more details. I'd like to help ya, but I've got enough problems without some mob boss putting a price on my head...And I ain't gonna let that happen to my kid, neither, no matter how much he doesn't care." He paused, and leaned forward  to put his arms on his knees, clasping his hands.

"Let's put it this way...Cookie and I," at this he raised a pointed eyebrow, clearly indicating to his son that this was a double deal; where Cookie went, so did Fio. "We wanna help. And we think we're the 'right people' for ya. Or at least, he thinks he knows the 'right people.' So...If we help you get rid of this Serissa dame --and I'm not saying we'll be able to; she sounds like one tough cookie, that one -- what do we get in return?" He held his hands up suddenly, as if defending himself before it was necessary. "I ain't an extortionist, but this is a dangerous thing and pretty risky business. I ain't about to stick my next out there for someone I hardly know."

He tapped Cookie's shoulder meaningfully. "And neither should you, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor. Think a little before you go jumping into this thing." He turned back to Mystique and Sefiria. "So we think we can help you...But like I said...I don't work for free. Maybe Cookie does, but I don't." Fio didn't feel like a cad, and he certainly didn't feel like her was being mean; he was being honest, and if they didn't like that, then they could dispose of this 'Serissa' broad on their own. He looked after himself and his family; everybody else had to watch their own backs...Unless they had a valid reason for him to watch it for them. "And son, I think you better step on the brakes and wait a minute...Listen to your, er...Wodehouse."

[10, 113]

((Ah, Fio...You shrewd, rude businessman...And somehow, annoyingly overprotective father. Sheesh. X3 He's not been with his son for more than a few minutes, and already he's trying to make decisions for him. XD))