Chapter 65: My Chemical Romance
The inside of carriage six looked little different to the one Pumpkin was more familiar with, the only difference being the lack of any chairs. Instead, stacked crates lined the inside from floor to ceiling, maximising the available space to pack as much merchandise as possible for the long road ahead.
“Let’s try this again.”
Pumpkin’s teleportation proved much more accurate at close distance, instantly bringing him near the ceiling, leaving only a small hurdle to climb to reach the top, an easy feat with his claws extended. Dropping down into the crate, Pumpkin landed on a pile of apples, packed haphazardly into the box.
“Ugh, that takes a lot of me out of me,” Pumpkin panted, feeling like he’d just run a marathon after two consecutive activations of Chesire’s Glory. “Are you sure this skill isn’t broken?”
[Traits consume a fixed amount of energy per activation. Fatigue will diminish as your body, mind and soul develop.]
“So you’re saying I suck,” Pumpkin deadpanned, having mostly regained his breath after a few moments.
[Your words, not mine.]
Pumpkin couldn’t be bothered to reply, instead picking himself up and devouring the nearest apple. The consumption from Cheshire’s Glory was considerable, taking him from full to famished in just two activations, to the degree that he all but inhaled his first apple, barely bothering to chew before it went down to his stomach. The next apple was much the same, and the next, and so on until he’d eaten his way through a baker’s dozen, leaving a noticeable dent in the crate’s contents. Even then, Pumpkin wasn’t satisfied, and continued to eat (albeit at a slower pace) until he’d eaten a cat sized hole in apples, and had made enough room to sink down further into the crate. This wasn’t solely out of hunger, as whilst teleportation carried a cost, the toll wasn’t that extreme. Pumpkin had eaten until he felt uncomfortably bloated, and this had to do with his original reason for coming here.
After nearly two dozen apples, there was enough space to relocate the remainder, and so Pumpkin batted fruit around with his paws, until the bottom layer of the crate was revealed to him. Here, hidden beneath common goods and stuffed into individual glass containers was the true driving force behind the caravan.
[Valkyrie Dust: An alchemical powder most potente, a single inhalation bestows immense confidence, a surge of energy, and immense resistance to pain, alongside a persistent feeling of euphoria. Effects last anywhere between six to twenty four hours. Side effects include addiction, lowered inhibitions, hallucinations, and immense stress on the heart leading to injury and death.]
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Ooh, that sounds fun!” Pumpkin purred happily. “Gimme!”
Perhaps before, Pumpkin wouldn’t have been so eager to give this a go, but after acquiring a literal Nine Lives to his credit, he’d become a lot more bold in his pursuit of joy. Biting down on the nearest container, his jaws easily shattered glass tip. Now unobstructed, Pumpkin held the tube close to his mouth and took a deep breath.
—
Rest came easily to me as always, knocking me out barely a few minutes after reclining my head. My colleagues had been most envious of this ability to fall asleep on a dime, even in fraught circumstances, as it meant I always arrived at meetings and conferences well rested, even on those occasions where I was forced to slum it in economy class. Often, I’d been badgered for tips and tricks, only to leave my audience unsatisfied when I told them that this was merely natural selection at work, and not the effect of drugs, drink or meditation. Blinking away those errant thoughts, I pulled myself upright in my chair and stretched, working the stiffness out of my neck and body.
The sun was already up, as evidenced by the faint light peeking through the edge of the tarp, so I wasted no time in making myself presentable. While storing myself was functionally impossible, pulling the accumulated dirt and grime off of my body and consigning it to oblivion was a mere moment’s work, the convenience never ceasing to astound me. After all, time was the most precious resource, and even as a CEO, I’d had to spend far too much of it on self-care, so such a method could only be described as miraculous. With that done, I headed outside, ready to enjoy a leisurely breakfast before the journey resumed. Instead, I was immediately met at the door by one of the drivers, who wore an expression of profound consternation.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately, because such a face could mean nothing but trouble.
“Um,” The way the driver hemmed and hawed only confirmed my hypothesis. “You see…”
“Spit it out already.”
“Your pet got into the merchandise!”
“So?” I raised an eyebrow. “All of us are eating from the crates, the whole point of having a caravan was to maintain sufficient food and drink for the entire journey.”
“Not that merchandise. The merchandise.”
“Ah,” I sighed, finally understanding what the driver was getting at. “Alright then, show me the damage.”
One short walk later, and we were at the scene of the crime, the rearmost carriage in the convoy. Pulling aside the tarp, I was immediately assaulted by a facefull of white dust, the mere residue being enough to make my heart race. I stored it away without hesitation, the lack of notification letting me know that it was trash and nothing more. Of the many crates in the carriage, only one of them was shaking in place, and so it was this one I pulled from the stack, the crate weighing surprisingly light in my two-handed grip.
“Will? Is that you Will? Close the curtain, the light, it burns! Hiss Oh, my head, can you give me a rub? Daddy needs a pick me up.”
Pumpkin was flat on his back, resembling a wriggling puddle more than a cat, his eyes wide and dilated to the extreme, while his tongue oscillated wildly when it wasn’t busy with speech. I’d never been a big advocate for drugs, but even I recognised the signs of someone high as heaven.
“Goddamnit Pumpkin.”