Good evening, Class.

I'm your incredibly handsome teacher, Mr. Boy.

Now I know you kids love being bored to death with math problems and shit, but that ain't happening today.

Because, you see, I got a PhD in having nothing better to do but begrudgingly talk about my week.

Yessir, it's “Show and Tell Day” in this oh-so-humble classroom of mine.

So you better open up those books and start taking notes.

I may quiz you later.

…

Alright, so I'm gonna be frank with you guys; I got a bad habit of taking things a little too far. Of course, I'm sure you already knew that. Shit, my entire life thus far has been one instance after another of me taking things to extremes they were never meant to be taken to. And Leroy...that guy is either Lucifer in disguise, or he's simply too eager for his own damn good. If I wanted to, I could attempt to pin the blame on him for this recent scheme of ours.

But, really, I honestly couldn't. After it's all been said and done, it was still my idea; Leroy simply sailed along with me to the riverfront and back. There's probably questions circulating around those curious brains of yours, I'm sure. How did the river flow? How rough was the current? Did our boat hit any snags along the way? Did any larger-than-life fish try to make dinner outta us? Where was the destination, even?

All of that will be answered in due time, don't you worry.

For now, just listen to what I gotta say.

So as we left off, I was a goddamn wreck. I just learned that me and the love of my life were having not one baby, but fucking two. Heidi, despite now spending most of her days on the toilet while simultaneously bitching about how tight all her pairs of pants are, was so happy the day that Doctor Okafor broke the news to us that she couldn't—for the life of her—understand what I was so worried about. “Don't worry 'bout it, babyboy. The fact you're so scared about it just means you'll be extra prepared when the time comes!”

Sure, Heidi. That's what I need to hear. I should just simply continue to lose multiple nights worth of sleep during the entirety of your pregnancy so that I'm better prepared to lose multiple nights worth of sleep during the first few years of our kids' lives. Baby, no. You need me alive for their eighteenth birthday party; not dead by their first.

So, with a little help from my good pal Leroy Barris, I was able to finally—truly—accept the reality of where I was living at and realize that I needed to be the biggest and baddest this shithole of a Wonderland had to offer. I know you bozos are all probably rolling your eyes at this very moment, saying shit like, “Look dude, we all knew it was gonna come down to this. It's been foreshadowed several times throughout this bullshit journey of yours. You're just unbelievably slow.” And you know what? Maybe, for once, you're right. In this particular instance, I admittedly was an idiot. From the very get-go, I was receiving signs telling me what I needed to do and I let certain things keep me from following through with those wild ideas.

So there.

You got me.

I'm a dumbass.

Ha ha ha.

Laugh it up, you buncha sweaty pencil-necks.

Either way, I now had every reason to throw caution to the wind and indulge in the colossal power-trip that had been beating the insides of my brain for far too long. Heidi might not be too thrilled once she learns what I've been up to, but what choice does she have here? What choice do either of us have? We're hurting for money and, truth be told, I don't trust this wasteland enough to let my offspring just wander around freely; not without me having some kind of stranglehold on the super-powered barbarians dragging their testicles all over the streets, anyway. This island needs a firm snuff in the jaw. It needs to learn that man is in charge; not a bunch of rabid beasts. It needs me pulling the strings attached to all those cheap mass-produced puppets. And so the ol' gears of my mental factory were then oiled-up enough to turn nonstop until something was churned out.

And boy, it was certainly something.

It was big.

It was magical.

It was easily the stupidest fucking idea I've ever had.

We called it “Operation Armored Raccoons”. Now, lemme break that name down for you a little. First of all, what's the first thing you think of when you hear the word “armor”? Shields? Knights? Bulletproof vests? If these were some of your answers, then congratulations—you ain't wrong. Yeah, all those things are forms of armor; however, one must really pop that restrictive bubble of comfort they're living in if they want to protect themselves from the destructive forces out to get them on a daily basis.

Which brings me to my next point; the “Raccoons” bit of “Operation Armored Racoons”. Raccoons, as you may already know, are little furry animals that typically live in trees and often choose to come out at night. They're scavengers, which means that they'll eat just about anything they can get their hands on; even garbage. In other words, these bastards are merciless thieves who will stop at nothing to get their next meal.

Now, before you start putting two and two together, I want you to really think about where I'm going with this. If you look at my breakdown subjectively, you're gonna wind up with some dimwitted conclusion such as, “Oh, you want to steal something big like a car or a big diesel truck. Big whoop; that ain't gonna help you any.” Well, you got the “stealing” part right. Otherwise, that is a MASSIVE oversimplification of what me and Leroy were aiming to accomplish through “Operation Armored Raccoons” and—quite frankly—you oughta be ashamed of yourself for thinking so goddamn basically.

Let's think objectively for a little while, shall we? As I said before, armor typically refers to the protective gear that you wear when you go out to do battle with some shmuck and his cronies. But that's just not enough. There is so much more to protection than simply taping up your knuckles or strapping on some geeky helmet courtesy of your high school wrestling team. Because let's face it; all that extra padding can only do so much when some asshole is constantly knocking you down and bloodying up your face. You gotta fight back. You gotta make damn sure that they not only can't hurt you, but that they can't even get close enough to try.

I ain't just talking about cars or body vests.

I'm talking about defense.

Weapons.

Ammunition.

Heavy machinery.

Valuable intel.

And much, much more.

I'm talking about leverage.

And guess what, ladies and gentlemen? This pair of raccoons was dead set on scavenging up as much of this equipment that was humanly possible for two lowly crooks to scavenge up. And, thanks to Leroy's wider range of knowledge regarding Casa do Diaño as a whole, we knew exactly where to go. However, there were two problems that we needed to think about before giving this place an unsolicited visit.

One, this place was nearly a thousand miles away in Leste District. This particular problem was more of an issue for me, but I'll touch up on that a little later. Two, this place was home to the Defensores da Illa. According to Leroy, that name translates to “Defenders of the Island”. Aside from having overpowered abilities of their own, they are a group of soldiers that have top-notch technology and weaponry on their side to ensure that no ghastly forces outside the island can cause any trouble.

That's right, folks. Casa do Diaño don't got any cops, but they sure as shit got their own army. And not just your average everyday jar-heads with superiority complexes either—these fucks were goddamn super soldiers. These guys were specifically trained to defeat any kind of monster in a fight. Undead, giant, invisible, demonic, celestial—you name it! Basically, your chances at surviving an encounter with these guys is incredibly low...but Christ Almighty were we gonna steal their shit and live to tell the tale! Do you see now why I said that this was my stupidest idea ever?

So, for our earlier set of questions regarding our magnificent—and highly metaphorical—boat ride, you now know where the destination ultimately was. As for the rest of the questions that were initially asked, I'm sure you can give a fairly accurate guess as to what the answers probably are. But trust me when I say that this whole thing ended in a way that even I couldn't of possibly seen coming. And honestly, by the time you're done reading about this plan in it's entirety, I'm sure you'll be thinking the same thing.

…

Operation Armored Raccoons, phase one.

…

For this carefully constructed heist, we each took on different jobs. This allowed us to even the workload while also allowing ourselves to work off of each others' strengths. Now, even though I'm a pretty amazing and talented individual, there were still some areas that Leroy had me beat in. Not too many areas, but a few.

For starters, he grew up in Casa do Diaño and knew the land like the back of his hand. He also knew more people than I did—which meant that he could possibly gain us access to the heavily guarded military base through a friend of a friend that owes him a favor. If that wasn't a possibility, then he could—at the very least—help us acquire the necessary information we needed in order to make a house-call; you know, without snipers readying their trigger fingers upon our arrival. Because, thinking realistically for a moment here, we'd have a better chance at getting our faces struck by lightning forty-seven times in a row than we would being able to successfully sneak onto an entire army base infested with freakishly powerful super-soldiers without any kind of aid to assist us whatsoever.

But I digress.

Besides all that, Leroy ain't got shit on me.

…

Nope, there's nothing else.

…

…

Alright alright, I get it.

He has his motherfucking water powers, too.

I do very much enjoy it when more salt is applied to my already fresh wounds.

But you know what?

I'm still a better shot than him.

Not to mention that while Leroy's got some connections that could allow us to make it into the Defensores da Illa's district-wide headquarters, he ain't quite got the same level of creativity that I got when it comes to manipulation. Sure, he used a fucking horse to communicate with me once upon a time...but that doesn't really count. After all, it can't be considered manipulation if you're simply trying to repay a favor someone had done for you many years ago...which apparently was the case here. Lemme just say that time paradoxes make my head ache something awful.

Anyway, back on point, I pride myself in being quite the connoisseur of manipulation tactics. There's so much you can accomplish when you remember that everybody has the same wiring programmed into their brains. Sure, you got people that operate a little differently than you do, but you both got the same response to certain...let's call 'em “malfunctions”. Allow me to drop several basic examples on top of you.

If you're feeling bored, you'll seek to entertain yourself. If you're feeling challenged, you'll fight until you're the only one standing. If you're feeling lonely, you'll jump at the opportunity to meet someone that you can connect with either as a friend or as a lover. If you're feeling uncomfortable, you'll do whatever it takes to get outta the uncomfortable situation and into one that is more pleasing to deal with.

Knowing damn well just how powerful all of these feelings can be in a time of need is the key to successfully playing somebody. All you have to do is pick one emotion and make sure your target not only feels it, but feels it so strongly that the lack of release is putting their sanity through the goddamn shredder. Sure, they may fight at first. They may still hold on tightly to that inborn human need to crave the world—only to lash out when they only receive one world. But the pressure will only grow. And grow. And grow until it's too much for them to handle. Soon their capacity for freewill will completely vanish. John Doe is no longer his own man; he's yours. And you're free to do whatever you please with him so long as he clings on to the belief that he'll get his release in the end. For he has succumbed to an unbearable disease of the mind known as “Desperation”.

I've spent years perfecting this skill of mine. Leroy knew this, and easily voted me in as the “negotiator” for “Operation Armored Raccoons”. Though he also volunteered me for the “carjacker” position, which confused me a little. I reminded him that we were still a ways off from seeing the end of the Snowpocalyse of 1990. Ain't nobody driving out on these roads unless they got a snowmobile or something...which I already did. So there was really no point to that job; not unless he wanted me to steal one of the army's tanks or some shit. But even then, why would only one of us jack a tank? Why not both of us take one so we got a spare? I mean shit—ain't the point of this gig for us to come out with both firepower and the infamy that goes with robbing the military and living through it all? Goons don't just grow on trees, Leroy! We gotta prove that we ain't just two jokers trying to fuck the system! And two tanks are surely better than one, right?!

He smiled and told me that I was thinking too far into it.

I then asked him to kindly elaborate for me so I wouldn't misunderstand him.

His only response to that was, “You'll see.”

I looked at him for a moment and sighed.

There was no point in arguing with a seasoned veteran of the land.

After all, he knew more about the island than I did.

And so, once we had all our jobs assigned, we set out to put simple ideas into action.

…

Step One: Research, research, research.

…

The first step in “Operation Armored Racoons” was by far the easiest one to accomplish—which is why I didn't feel too bad about Leroy doing it all by himself. What? I got a pregnant lady at home that needs constant attention, alright? She was furious the last time I had to abandon her for a couple of days, just in case you don't remember. So I needed a few days to kinda...prepare her for my absence. Shower her with affection day and night, buy shitloads of food, get her plenty of bubble bath to soak in, rent a couple of her favorite movies—et cetera, et cetera.

Now, even though I was okay with Leroy taking on this assignment alone, I still found myself growing very impatient. For three days, I didn't hear anything from him. I knew damn well what he was doing and how he was spending his day, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't care. I did care—a little too much. If I were wearing shoes, I would've easily worn out the soles with all the back and forth walking I'd done. Leroy needed to get me something quick—he needed to be faster! Don't get me wrong, the time I spent with Heidi was time I very much cherished. But as much as I enjoyed my alone time with her, there was work needing to be done—messages needing to be delivered. Havoc to wreak!

Unfortunately for me, Heidi noticed that I was on edge. How couldn't she? She's known me long enough to know when something was on my mind, no matter how hard I tried to keep it to myself. Sure, I pace a lot whenever I'm anxious about something, but c'mon. Why couldn't she just accept “I'm bored” as a valid reason as to why I was doing it? I know she meant well and everything, but still. Kinda pisses me off sometimes.

But at least she never accused me of anything.

She just kissed me and put my hand on her belly.

Told me I'll be a good dad.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I hope she's right.

I need her to be right.

I refuse to become my old man.

I refuse!

I'd rather die than let that happen, you hear me?!

…

…

Anyway...

Back on point.

Once Leroy finally called to tell me that he found the information he was looking for, I found myself bolting down the hall like I was running away from a tornado ripping into the city. Thankfully, I remembered to tell him that I was on my way in the midst of my immense excitement; otherwise I would've probably crashed into his door like a spastic retard. Instead, he waited for me with an open door...and paid the price dearly when I rammed right into him, swung us around, and pinned him against his wall.

It took him a grand total of four seconds to realize what had happened.

And once it hit him, he laughed loudly.

“Well! I typically find flowers and chocolates to be quite the romantic gesture, but this also works!”

I groaned and backed away from him. “Dude, save the jokes for later! What did you learn about the base?!” He didn't respond at first, instead just roaring with wild amusement over what I considered to be a perfectly reasonable reaction to hearing good news. Gee, I'm glad he found humor in my nearly-crippling anxiety.

After a few moments of losing his sides to the zero gravity of outer space, his girly laughter eventually simmered down to a chuckle. “Straight to business, I see! That's good!” He cleared his throat and straightened his expression. “Okay, so I didn't dig too deeply into some of the policies around the base itself; I figured it would be best to do that while we're on the road so it's fresh on our minds.” He flashed me a confident grin. “However, I did do some digging into the military's regulations as imposed by the politicians over in Centro District.”

I cocked an eyebrow and crossed my arms. “This shithole of an island has a government? And laws?” He nodded. “Indeed. Granted, crime doesn't seem to be a major priority to them. Why would it be? Criminals are the ones making it possible for them to live comfortably in their fancy penthouses and enjoy their five-thousand ficha bottle of champagne at the end of each day. What they are concerned with—primarily—is security through isolation. That's where our technologically-advanced friends over in Leste District come in.”

I stared straight into his eyes, my facial expression never changing. “Go on...” Leroy sighed, obviously a little hesitant to tell me the catch to all of this. “Before we can do anything with that base, we need the proper documents on hand.” I groaned loudly. I knew that there was gonna be some level of tedium to making this plan work—trust me, I knew. But still...there was always something in the way. There was always something in my fucking way.

Be patient, Genghis.

This is just another dab in that giant painting you're working on.

“What kind of documents and how much red tape do we have to cut through to get them?” He shook his head. “Not too much, thankfully. Just a few things that need to be signed and notarized. However, the downside to this is that we have to be there in person to complete the paperwork. With all of these ruffians running around the island, they want to make sure their military doesn't fall victim to some kind of terrorist attack.”

That got a laugh outta me.

Politicians trying to protect a bunch of overpowered soldiers from terrorists.

I repeat.

Politicians...trying to protect a bunch of overpowered soldiers...from terrorists.

It was like a helicopter parent complaining to a teacher about their child having to do classwork.

It was so ridiculous that it almost made me feel less intimidated by the warmongering bastards.

I mean look at me—comparing the Defensores da Illa to fucking children!

“I'm not even gonna ask you to explain that one to me, man.” Leroy took another quick breath, chuckling along with me. “I know; it's biscuits to a bear!” ...biscuits to a bear. Biscuits...to a bear. What? I cocked an eyebrow, but then shook my head and dropped my hands down to my hips. Maybe after some time, I'll eventually come to understand Leroy's confusing Irish-speak.

“We gotta go there in person to do this shit?” “Yes,” Leroy nodded, “Sadly, they do not offer notary services for this particular process. So we have to make a bare minimum of two trips to Breogán Capital Hall in order to get this task completed.” That statement earned another groan from yours truly. Who knew robbing the military required so much goddamn paperwork? “Is it too late to just say “fuck it” and find another way into the base?”

Leroy flashed me another grin and held one of his index fingers up. “You forget...I know people. I know a boy that works in Centro District. Ordained minister formally from Germany, though he primarily works with weddings and baptisms. Says that the “sermon game” isn't for him; his real passion is architecture and art.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “He's not only able to notarize our papers, he's more than willing to assist us any way he can.”

Well, who can blame him?

If my job was to perform shotgun weddings and then dunk the couples' screaming babies into water, I'd consider a change of careers down the road, too.

“So...you're sayin' that we doan gotta spend twenty years waitin' for a buncha suits to grant us clearance into the base?” Leroy nodded enthusiastically. “That's precisely what I'm saying!” The gears in my head spun again and a wicked grin spread across my face. “So really, we have everythin' we need to get access to this base.” He clapped his hands once before holding them out. “Indeed! In fact, if you're willing, we can leave first thing in the marning!”

Like a duo of stereotypical cartoon villains, we both broke out into loud laughter. This news was a major relief, my friends. Here I was, thinking that we were gonna be stuck waiting countless months for the lazy clerks over in Centro District to get something back to us. Perhaps I was too used to the half-assery that runs rampant in the United States...or maybe all of the years living with Roy and Dad have turned me into such a cynical douche that I immediately expect people to slack off whenever I need something done. I dunno. All I did know was that things seemed to be starting off on a very good note for us. We had a pretty picture outlined before us; we now needed to add the color to it. How did the river flow? Why, it seemed to be flowing very smoothly—thanks for asking!

After a moment of excited cackling, Leroy's face suddenly fell.

“That is if, of course, Heidi is willing to let you go for a couple of days.”

And that was when my laughter ultimately died.

He just had to remind me, didn't he?

“Yeah...give me a day, alright? We'll leave first thing Sunday mornin'”

…

I watched her from the comfort of our queen-sized bed. She had stepped into the bathroom to grab a wet rag so she could wash my slowly oozing semen off her right inner thigh. It was kind of funny to watch, but not in the amusing sense—more like in the “who would've thought we'd end up here” sense. Making love to each other was always so risky back in Brooklyn, you know?

There was always the fear that either Roy or my old man would walk in on us. What would they have done if they caught us in the act? How disappointed would Roy have been with his precious little girl? How bad of a beating would he have given me? What about the beating from my dad? It didn't help that Heidi constantly had Paul on her mind, as well. What if he found out about her affair? What if one of her girlfriends found out that she was seeing another guy behind his back? What if Genghis decided to do her wrong and tell him himself?

Now here we are.

I'm watching her clean my cum off her leg.

Paul is forever outta the picture.

So are our fathers.

We're starting a family together.

She's mine—all mine!

And despite the mess we were in, I'll always pick her over any other woman.

Irrational pregnancy hormones and all.

Speaking of...I had to take a deep breath and brace myself for her reaction to the bad news I was about to drop on her. “I have to leave for a few days.” She stopped mid-wipe and looked over at me. “When? Now?” Oh boy, here we go. “Sunday. Sunday mornin'.” She stared at me, hurt stinging her face like a swarm of angry bees. I sighed, knowing damn well the shit storm that was about to hit.

“W-Where you goin'?” Heidi asked as she continued to clean herself up, voice low but not angry-sounding—not yet, anyway. “I'm headin' over to Centro District for a surveyin' gig. Some senator is wantin' to install this giant-ass swimmin' pool in his back yard. Needs a guy to come give him the specifications required to do it—'cuz doin' it himself is just too hard for his lazy ass.” She didn't change her facial expression, instead just nodding really slowly and speaking nearly in a whisper. “That's okay...gotta get that money somehow, I guess...”

Temper tantrum in three.

“You have a job to do, after all...I can't just keep you here all the time...”

Two.

“I mean, why would you wanna stay home with a fat, overly-emotional bitch like me?”

One.

“There's so many other pretty girls out there, anyway! I'm sure you ain't tellin' dem skanks “no” when they offer to suck your cock for a measly ten fichas!”

Zero.

“You fuckin' asshole!” With these words, she grabbed the glass jar containing our toothbrushes and lobbed it at my head. Thankfully, I rolled off the bed in time for her to miss and hit the wall, glass shattering all over the bed. “Heidi, stop it! I ain't even cheatin' on you! Why would you—” Before I knew it, she was charging at me, screaming obscenities. “Fuck you, Genghis Dillinger Boy! Fuck you! Fuck you!” She tried to tackle me, but I caught her mid-lunge and pinned her against the wall.

Dear sons and/or daughters, I love you both.

I really do.

But you're both grounded the moment you're born.

So fucking grounded.

I can't blame your mom for her batshit crazy behavior, so you'll have to take the blame.

So, yeah.

No TV for a year.

Love, Dad.

“Let go of me, you fuckin' pig!” She tried to yank away from my grasp, but I held on to her arms tightly, holding them above her head. “Heidi, listen to me for a second! If I was gonna cheat on you, why the hell would I have agreed to bring you to Casa do Diaño with me? Doan you think I would've left your ass back in America?!” Her eyes widened, tears threatening to spill any minute. “You left me in New York! You did! I had to come find you!” I growled loudly. “I was on the run, Heidi! I had no choice but to leave you that time! But you know what?! I called you! I called you and told you where I was at! I did that because I missed you! Because I love you! Because I ain't fuckin' cheatin' on you! Do you understand me?!”

In hindsight, maybe yelling at her wasn't a good idea.

Maybe losing my cool with a highly fragile pregnant lady was not one of the best calls to make.

But shit dude, I'm only human!

With my nerves constantly being shot and worries always clouding my mind, I felt like a ticking time-bomb.

And her throwing a fucking jar at me didn't help matters, either.

I stopped myself for just a minute to take a deep breath. No need to make things worse than they already were, right? “Look Heidi, I'm saw—” Before I could apologize, she exploded in a hysterical crying fit. “Oh Genghis! Please! Please don't say you're sawrry! I'm the one that should be sawrry! You shouldn't have to apologize to me! You did nothin' wrong! You really didn't!” My heart ached. Even though the waterworks were usually a good sign that her wrath was gone, I still felt bad every time she cried like this. Being the bad guy suited me well for most things, but not with Heidi. Never with Heidi. I wanted to be her hero—not the mustache twirling, hand rubbing goof that leaves her tied onto the railroad tracks.

With that, I let go of her arms. She immediately wrapped them around me, holding me close and crying into my chest. I wrapped mine around her, rubbing her back soothingly. She whimpered several “I'm sorrys” against me, and I decided to react with the one thing that I knew would calm her down; laughter. I chuckled and kissed her neck.

“I forgave you before this even began, babygirl! Doan you worry.”

…

The next day was a lot calmer than the night before had been. Heidi apologized for her behavior several times throughout the day, and I kept telling her that she was already forgiven. Nevertheless, she insisted on making the day about me and treated me to all sorts of nice things. She cooked me breakfast, lunch, and dinner, gave me a really nice back-rub, cuddled up with me, riffed TV shows with me for a while, and ended the day by giving me a fucking amazing blowjob.

All in all, it was a pretty good day.

It was then on Sunday, January 21st that I had to tell her good-bye. I got outta bed before sunrise, took a shower, and dressed my skin with gray boxer-briefs, blue jeans, socks and boots, a black wife-beater, a green bomber jacket, my black and white fedora, and my aviator shades so that no chunks of snow could pound into my eyes during the drive. Then I packed a bag, grabbed my gun, keys and smokes, and kissed Heidi on the lips before walking out the door to rendezvous with Leroy. Naturally, I found him standing beside my snowmobile in the parking lot of the hotel. Though, I found him standing with a familiar face; a face that I hadn't seen for a while.

“Good marning, Genghis! I found this little fella keeping your ride nice and warm!” Sure enough, he was referring to that damn pumpkin-eyed cat—the one that was responsible for making me pass out in the hotel lobby...ironically to dream about Leroy. Awkward. The little bastard was cuddled up in his arms like a newborn baby, purring loudly enough for me to hear him while I lit up my first smoke of the day.

“Ain't that nice of him?” I responded sarcastically just before looking the feline in the face. “Hope you doan expect us to let you tag along. 'Cuz that sure as shit ain't happenin' today.” The black cat mewed at the sound of my voice and rolled over in Leroy's arms. I figured the smug asshole would remember me.

“Sawrry, I doan think I was clear enough. I said you ain't comin' with us.” He said nothing this time; instead just staring straight into my soul with his big eyes. I snorted, taking a drag on my cigarette. “I'm pretty damn sure you can't drive a car or shoot a gun, so bringin' you would only hinder our operation. Capiche?”

After the third time of telling this overly persistent creature that he wasn't welcome on our mission, I think he finally understood what I was saying. Keep in mind, however, that just because he understood my words, it didn't necessarily mean he accepted them. I say this because he immediately focused all of his attention onto Leroy and flashed him the biggest, most pathetic “sad eyes” I've ever seen; essentially treating my final say-so like a child treats the word “no” when uttered by the more domineering parent.

And of fucking course, the giant softie fell right into his incredibly obvious trap.

“Genghis, stop being so mean him! This poor little creature is just lost—and rightly knackered from the cold! Perhaps we can bring him inside and treat him to some breakfast?” Oh sweet, gentle, oh-so-stupid Leroy. “Ay man, you remember that one time that you made this big ass analogy about lions and snakes? Why doan you follow your own advice and put the damn cat down?” He laughed loudly and shook his head. “Alright, you big bully; I'm going to take this fella inside and let Alexander deal with him. We'll leave as soon as I return.” I rolled my eyes behind my shades and took another hit of my inevitable death sentence.

You know, I realized something that morning. For somebody so concerned about my well-being, Leroy didn't seem to care too much about his own. He talked all this shit about how I needed to watch myself, and yet he was barely willing to entertain the idea that not all Casa do Diañoesqe monsters were humanoid. And honestly, there was really only one possible reason that I could think of as to why that was the case.

Leroy was orphaned at an incredibly young age, meaning that he learned the ropes on how to survive this colossal mousetrap of an island way early on. Meanwhile, I've only been here for a month and still am learning new shit everyday. He's already proven that he's powerful enough to survive Casa do Diaño without too much help, so why would he be scared for himself? I'm the one at a major disadvantage here, not him. So I'm betting that he kinda sees a little bit of me in that tiny, manipulative little furball that he's cradling. Of course, I could be way wrong and it turns out that he's just a massive sucker for cute animals—so much so that he's willing to risk his life to pet one that may or may not be dangerous. How embarrassing it would be for a big, tough water wizard to meet his undoing at the hands of his deadliest foe yet...a small, fluffy kitten?

Once Leroy and Little Bastard were out of earshot, I chortled at the mere thought.

“Dumbass.”