“Wow… be careful not to fall,” Nova says. “Anja and I are the only ones who can fly.”
“I can’t really even fly!” I point out. “I can only fall with style.”
“They should really put up a handrail,” Kevin chides, carefully leaning forward to peer over the side. “This is dangerous!”
“Well, the politicians here generally aren’t thrilled about federally mandated regulations,” Ruth comments. “So we can’t expect everything to be up to OSHA code.”
“Thank you, Wikipedia,” Ashley jokes. “Anyway, what’s our plan? Where’s the man of the hour?”
I turn in the direction that Ashley’s looking. There are several buildings, each a rather extravagant location you’d expect to see in major metro downtown. Nearest to us is what appears to be a hoity-toity restaurant where people are entering and leaving in fancy suits and dresses. There’s a stadium further down the… what would you call this? A road? A pier? I don’t have a name for a walkway that’s suspended high in the air surrounded by clouds. We’ll just call it a walkway, I guess. Anyways, down the walkway, there’s a huge stadium, where I can faintly make out an announcer’s voice shouting about something. Probably sports, idk. Further down, there’s what might be a gym or something, and then the cloud cover kinda makes it hard to see past that.
“I… don’t think we’d have a way of knowing where he’d be,” I say. “Guess we’ll have to snoop around. My favorite pastime!”
“What readings are you getting, Ruth?” Ashley asks.
“...Unfortunately, there’s something wrong with my navigation abilities,” Ruth says. “I’m having a hard time getting a clear picture. I can see that there are many people in the restaurant eating meals, but I can’t make out what’s beyond.”
“Guess we’ll check the restaurant first,” I say.
“Thank god,” Charlotte comments. “I’m hungry.”
As a group, we make our way for the, making sure to keep towards the middle of the path. And I didn’t even have to direct anyone with a whistle! Thank goodness for the AI updates in this installment.
At the restaurant, a fancy little man with a curly looking blonde mustache stands outside the door. As we approach, he turns to us angrily.
“No pets are allowed in the restaurant!” he accosts us, looking down at Ted.
“I’ll have you know I’m not a pet, sir,” Ted growls.
“No animals of any kind!” the man insists.
“Humans are a type of animal,” Ruth comments flatly.
“And you!” he continues, pointing at Ashley. “What is that ridiculous outfit?”
“I’ll have you know, open carry of swords is legal in Texas now,” Ashley says, smirking. “Look it up.”
“This is fine dining, not Dungeons and Dragons!” the waiter nags. “And you!” he points to Zoe. “Why are you dressed like some sort of African? Do you have any national pride?”
“Actually, I looked this up,” I chime in. “Cleopatra was the ruler of what we now call Egypt, but she was part of a Greek dynasty who took over after Alexander the Great’s passing. So, she’s not really what we now think of as African .”
“Yeah, and I’m part Greek on my dad’s side!” Zoe offers hastily, tapping her fingers together nervously. “So… maybe we can…”
“These children are holding up the line!” Says a rude lady behind us with a whole-ass animal skin slung around her neck.
“Why don’t you guys just wait out here with the animal, and we’ll call for backup if needed?” I suggest. “Nova and I should be fancy enough to enter.” I look down at my red dress and smooth it out a little.
Ted gives me a reproachful look. Ashley rolls her eyes and says, “Fine, we didn’t want to eat at this frivolous place anyway. Come on, Zoe.”
So Ashley, Zoe and Ted step out of line, as Nova and I enter with our arms linked.
“Ooh, am I fancy enough?” Charlotte asks, gesturing down at her fine yellow dress.”
“We don’t accept drag queens,” the man says with a sneer. “There are families here, you know.”
“Oh, she’s not a drag queen!” Kevin says quickly. “My friend here just has a smoking problem.” Charlotte catches on immediately and starts pretending to cough loudly.
“No smoking in the restaurant,” the man orders.
“I won’t, sir!” Charlotte promises, saluting him. Kevin tips the brim of his red hat as he leads the two of them through.
“I’ll just wait out here with Ashley and Zoe,” Ruth says, stepping away to join them.
----------------------------------------
The place is so fancy that my wallet hurts just from looking around. Perfectly round tables with white tablecloths and sparkly clean wine glasses. Men in tuxedos and women fully dolled up with makeup wearing their finest dresses. Many of them are also decorated with gaudy earrings. A man with short trimmed hair, a suit and bowtie, and white gloves approaches us. He gives us a funny look at first, before dropping it and adopting a courteous demeanor. “Welcome to Der Urlaub des Patrioten . May I find a table for four?”
“The patriotic what-now?” Nova asks, squinting, no doubt attempting in vain to procure foggy memories from German class.
“The patriot’s what-now,” I correct. “That’s what the conjugation would translate to. And yes, a table of four would be lovely.” I do a curtsy.
“Very well. Follow me, please,” says the waiter.
He takes us through the center of the room, past a large, crystalline chandelier holding up dozens of candles, and around the walls, which are made of carved marble with intricate leaf-life patterns, and lit with soft golden lights. The dome-shaped ceiling is painted light blue with puffy little clouds to look like we’re looking out into a picture book sky, and I briefly get a horrible flashback to that torture chamber in Pavia’s palace. I can’t help but to notice we’re passing by several tables that seem to be unoccupied- what the fuck was wrong with those spots?
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
It becomes clear to me how humongous this restaurant is when he takes us through another identical room, and then another. Only on the third one does he finally seem content to stop and direct us to a table that is right against the wall.
Upon sitting down, however, I don’t bother to peruse the menu. As soon as the waiter is out of sight, I say, “Alright. Let’s split up and see if the governor is dining among us.”
Kevin nods. Charlotte, who had the menu open in front of her, folds it and puts it down, looking disappointed.
“Alright. Let’s each pick a direction and walk,” Nova declares.
“Er, could you walk with me, actually?” I request. “I fear there may be people even worse than gamers here.”
“Worse than gamers?” Nova asks incredulously. “That’s not even possible.”
“You wanna stay as a pair too?” Kevin asks Charlotte politely.
“Er, no, I’ll be fine,” Charlotte says, not meeting his gaze. “They just think I’m some sort of drag queen, remember?”
“Just be careful,” I advise. “Don’t initiate a fight until we’ve met up again so we can make a plan. This is reconnaissance only.”
----------------------------------------
The more time I spend in this palace, the more I come to grips with the alarming fact that there’s definitely something wrong with my powers. I can vaguely make out spots of what’s going on in the restaurant, but otherwise I can’t seem to find a damn thing anywhere here.
“They alright in there so far?” Ashley questions. There’s no good place to sit down, so we snuck around the side of the restaurant to lean against the wall.
“I… don’t know,” I say honestly. “There’s something wrong with my navigation here.”
“Really?” Ashley frowns. “That’s strange.”
“Aww… How are we gonna know when it’s time to help them?” Zoe wonders.
“Well, Anja and Nova can call me with their phones,” Ashley explains. “Hopefully they actually remember that’s a thing we can do, since it’s been a damn while.”
“We should have talked about this before entering,” I say, putting the palms of my hands on the side of the building to see if that helps. It doesn’t.
“I agree,” Ashley says. “But, oh well. We’ll just have to listen for any signs of a scuffle.”
----------------------------------------
While my outfit is certainly fancy enough to fit in, I very quickly get the impression that nothing else about me does. For one, nobody else is wearing yellow. I guess it’s too joyous of a color for this crowd. But, I have a weird feeling that maybe there’s a different reason why people keep glaring at me as I pass. Even though I’m 100% passing in this form, I’m still very tall, and I’m sure that makes people feel threatened. Also, I’m black- half-black technically, but that tends to not make a difference to most people. Or maybe it’s just a feeling. I don’t feel like I belong, and they can just sense it. Like a bunch of queer-seeking bloodhounds, sniffing me out as a rabbit. I wonder if anyone’s gonna just straight up pick a fight with me. I start walking faster.
Okay, just focus. We’re just looking for Schneider, so that we can… what? We can what?
Wait, really. What’re we supposed to do, exactly? Uhh… don’t initiate a fight, okay, got it. Meet up again and plan…? How do I find them? This restaurant is so confusing! Every room looks the god damn same! I don’t know how to find them or contact them or anything! I’m just confused and hungry and at any moment someone’s going to get up from their fucking table and kill me and I can’t take it anymore! EVERYONE SHUT UP! JUST STOP LOOKING AT ME! GO AWAY!
----------------------------------------
I carefully step my way from table to table, room to room, scanning the crowd for the sandy-haired man I’ve seen on TV. A few times I accidentally make eye contact with someone, and play it off by simply giving a small smile and nod and moving on. Seems like a bad idea to draw attention to myself. Although, I’m the only guy here dressed in red, so it’s sorta hard to avoid.
I’m startled to walk through an entrance guarded by two small potted palm trees and enter a room that actually looks different from the others. This room has a lower ceiling and dim lighting, as well as a bar area where several of the well-dressed waiters and waitresses are polishing glasses.
I feel someone tug on my sleeve and hear a woman’s voice call, “Waiter!” I jump in surprise and turn to see it’s a drunk-looking woman with splotched up makeup, whose husband is now chastising her. Shivering a little, I quickly shuffle away from that table and towards the back.
“Are you quite alright, dear?” A different woman’s voice asks.
My head quickly turns to see that the speaker is a serious-looking lady with straight, perfectly combed dirty blonde hair, whose dark blue eyes are looking at me with concern.
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Just got startled by something.”
“Nobody causing trouble here, is there?” a man’s voice booms from across the table. A voice I know…
I slowly turn my head around to see… that’s him. That’s Governor Schneider. There’s no mistaking that jawline with those lightly freckled cheeks. The conspicuous red tie is somewhat of a giveaway too.
“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” I say. “By the way, nice to meet you, Mr. Governor.”
He’s not listening to me however. His eyes are quickly scanning the room. I follow his gaze to find that he’s found the woman who startled me. Somehow.
He tilts his head towards the woman on his left, who immediately sticks out as someone who looks out of place. She has short, spiky black hair that matches her lipstick and dress, and tells her, “Deal with that, please.” Without saying a word, the black-donned woman stands up and leaves.
“You seem like a model young man,” the governor says, his eyes turning lazily back to me. “Why don’t you have a seat for a moment?”
“Uh, sure, Mr. Governor,” I say, not really thinking of a way out of it. So I take a seat where the punky woman previously was, across from the lady who greeted me, who I can only assume is the governor’s wife. She’s currently very carefully eating angel hair pasta with small little bites.
“What’s your name, son?” the governor asks.
“Kevin,” I say.
“Kevin who?”
“Snyder.”
“Aha. Snyder and Schneider are two alike names,” he comments. “Yes, I see a bit of myself in you, Kevin.”
“I mean, names aren’t everything,” I say, “but I guess they are pretty similar now that I-”
I jolt a little as I hear what sounds like an explosion in the distance, followed immediately by screams reverberating from what sounds like several rooms away.
“Move aside,” Gov. Schneider says very curtly. Before I can even process what he said, his wife has slid out of her seat and stood up to allow him to pass, hands politely in front of her, like our elementary school teachers used to make us do.
Schneider quickly slides out of his seat as well and stands up to address the other diners, who are craning their necks around the doorway and chattering in frightened tones.
“An internal enemy threatens us,” Schneider says in a booming voice, causing the other voices to quiet at once. “But do not fear. These terrorists who seek to destroy our state, our country, our very ways of life, cannot prevail against us if we act as a United front. Do your parts, and I will do mine. Draw your arms and await orders.”
Still quiet, the crowd nods to him and each other, and to my amazement, each and every one of them materializes a pistol and shotgun. Even Schneider’s wife wordlessly procures a sniper rifle, which she sets up on the table and points at the entrance closest to the explosion. I draw my gun too, just to not look out of place.
The black-haired punk woman re-enters the bar from a side door, to which Schneider immediately twitches his head towards the entryway and orders, “Come.” She nods, and both of them briskly exit the room.
----------------------------------------
The three of us are startled when a side door slams, and my heart really begins to race with fury when I see who it is.
“Two o’clock,” I say to Zoe and Ruth in a low voice. “That’s her. Anja’s evil aunt.”
Zoe gasps dramatically and turns to see the black-haired woman, who seems to be dragging a woman out of the restaurant, a foot in each hand.
“But surely not the real one?” Ruth says.
“Could be either way. She’s followed us inside before,” I say darkly.
We watch in revulsion as Kierstyn, without hesitation, drags the woman to the edge of the walkway and pushes her off into the fire below, the woman screaming all the while. A man thunders out of the restaurant, shouting, “WHY? WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO MY ALICE?”
“Get your woman under control, or you’re next,” Kierstyn scolds him harshly.
The man collapses to the ground crying, to which Kierstyn disdainfully leaves him sitting there like a disgusting thing she scraped off her shoe.
“Wh- what did she do to deserve that?” Zoe questions, mouth agape with horror.
“I dunno. She probably got an abortion or something,” I speculate. “So naturally, the pro-life position was to kill her.”
“You realize what this means, right?” Ruth asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Schneider is a crazy megalomaniac who demands total loyalty, and doesn’t hesitate to chuck people out for who knows what offense.”
“Well, probably yes, but I was referring to the fact that there’s a secret way inside,” Ruth points out.