The Red Pineapple was quiet save for the humming of kitchen appliances as I returned to the restaurant. Skylar or Lucky were nowhere to be seen. I spotted Carol in her tank and awkwardly waved. The orange octopus waved back with one of her tentacles. I stepped out into the dining area, but it too was empty. A soft creaking of a chair drew my attention to the drive-thru booth. The Native guy, Freddie, was chewing gum and doodling on the windowsill. The entire booth was covered in sketches and stickmen and abstract doodles. A small dream catcher hung from the monitor. Together with the green and purple stained glass, it looked like an art student’s notebook had vomited all over a room.
“Um, hi.”
Freddie flinched, nearly falling out of his chair and scattering his pencils all over the floor. “Don’t do that!” He adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose.
“Sorry,” I winced. “I’m Arthur, the new guy.”
“I know,” Freddie said. “You’ve already disturbed my vibe twice, bro.”
“Oh, well… oops.”
Freddie gestured at the booth. “This is my place. My bit of peace in the chaos. Gotta respect it.”
“Right, sorry, I’ll remember that. Um, do you know where Skylar is?”
Freddie frowned. He seemed to pretty much only have a neutral expression or a frown. “Can’t say I do, brother, but if she ain’t here, then she’s gone to Atlantis.”
I’m pretty sure I made the dial-up sound because Freddie rolled his eyes and explained. “It’s not underwater like people think. It’s in a separate dimension. That’s where the red door leads. Course, only senior staff are allowed to go, unless given permission by Carol. So if she’s in there, you’re gonna have to wait a while, bud.”
Somehow I shrugged the information off. I’d seen so much already. Why not add bloody freaking Atlantis to the mix? “So… what do I do?”
“Well, to start, you can get me Pepsi for ruining my space. And then you can help Lucky make some food.”
“I do not know how to do that.”
Freddie picked up his pencils and began doodling again. “Not my problem, hey.”
A bit annoyed, I grabbed Freddie a Pepsi from the fridge before walking over to the kitchen. I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the area. My eyes wandered over the stove and deep fryers, the racks of cutlery and the industrial meat slicer. I took in the giant mixer, the three fridges and the two stainless steel sinks. My cooking skills were limited to pretty much just the microwave, so all of this was way out of my wheelhouse.
I heard a door open and saw Lucky exiting the bathroom with a smile.
“You’re back!” She said.
“Yeah, I am,” I said.
Lucky looked me over. “And you didn’t die!” Her tail curled upward.
I chuckled nervously. “I guess not.”
“Hooray!” Lucky clapped. “How was your first trip?”
I sucked air through my teeth. “Uh, you know, it could have gone better.”
Lucky’s tail drooped momentarily. “Oh, that’s too bad. Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll ask Jaz for the rundown later. For now, let me show you how I run my kitchen.”
“Sure.”
Lucky grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the stove. She began a rapid-fire explanation of all the appliances and implements, ingredients and methods she used to make the menu of the Red Pineapple. Her mouth moved a million miles an hour and she didn’t give me any time to process, so when she finished, I was still reading the menu.
“So, any questions?” She was breathing heavily like she was so excited to tell me that she forgot to take breaths in between words.
“Maybe one or twenty-eight.”
“Don’t worry.” Lucky scampered off to the bulletin board on the freezer door. There were schedules and lists and all sorts of notes on it, but she grabbed the thin binder hanging off a thumb tack below it and handed it to me. It was a laminated guide to the Red Pineapple written on colourful construction paper. The steps were colour-coded and had doodles and simple diagrams next to them. In the corner, there was a chibi cartoon of Lucky winking.
I laughed. “You made this?”
Lucky beamed. “Yep. I had some help from Freddie.”
“It’s adorable.”
Lucky’s tail curled in satisfaction. “Ok, so read that and then let’s get you making a pizza. The dough is in the freezer.”
As I began to read the cute guide, Lucky busied herself in the kitchen. When I finished and had a rough idea of what was going on, I opened the walk-in freezer and peeked in. I pulled my head out and shut the door, blinking rapidly. Then I opened it and looked inside again. Among the shelves of produce and racks of pizza dough was a throne of carved ice. On that throne was a person in a large parka, the fur hood pulled up so their face was obscured. They were reading a book in a language I didn’t understand.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
I could only make out a pair of piercing blue eyes in the shadows under the furred parka hood.
“Okaaaaaay. Just getting some dough.” The parka person was creeping me out and the freezer was cold (Go figure) so I snagged some dough quickly. The blue eyes tracked my movements, cold and serious. Calculating. The eyes of a predator. (Not the creepy kind, the animal kind) I gulped, I think I may have bowed, and I got out of there. The figure turned back to their book without a word. As I closed the door behind me, I could still feel the cold air of the freezer rippling over my skin, giving me goosebumps. It felt like they could still see me through the heavy metal door.
“This place is crazy.” I thought that if I ever told anyone about it, they really would give me an all-expenses paid vacation to a mental institution. I could already feel the straight-jacket. “Lucky?”
“Hmm?” She spun around, holding a potato and a peeler.
I gestured to the freezer. “Why is there someone in the freezer?”
“Oh, that’s Bicoe.” Lucky laughed, a sound that somehow reminded me of a clear stream or a soft breeze on a sunny day.
I was pretty sure that was the dumbest name I’d ever heard, but I was more concerned about why they were in a room that could turn someone into an icicle. “Okay, but why are they in there?”
Lucky’s eyes narrowed as she smirked mischievously. “Oh you know, they’re just…chilling.”
At that point, the red door with the black symbols opened and Skylar came through. Dirt was smeared on her cheek and a scratch marred her brow. Tucked under one arm was a small wooden chest. It was decorated with carvings and studs that might have been jewels. I couldn’t tell, since it was covered in blood.
Lucky beamed at the blonde. “Skylar!”
Skylar flashed Lucky a brief smirk before she saw me staring and rolled her eyes. “What?”
I wanted to shout, “Why blood?” but I thought that would be very uncool, so I just asked, “How was Atlantis?”
Skylar raised an eyebrow. “You already know about that? Hmph.” She closed the door behind her and it clicked into place with an oddly echoing thrum. She walked into the office for a few moments and when she returned, the chest was gone. “It was um… rowdy.”
“That why you’re scratched up?” I asked.
Skylar crossed her arms, fixing me with an odd expression. “Yeah. That’s why.”
Lucky took the dough from my hands. “I was showing him around, but you should do his eval now. I’ll take care of this.”
Skylar dipped her head as Lucky skipped off to continue cooking.
“She’s nice,” I said.
Skylar snorted. “So you finished your first delivery, then?”
“Yep.”
She looked me up and down, which could have been flattering, but her expression made it seem more like she was analyzing a test specimen than anything else. “Well, you’re still in one piece, so it must have gone smoothly.”
I laughed nervously. “Yeah, about that…” I recounted the delivery and subsequent highway shootout. Skylar listened with growing concern and disbelief as I finished. “… so Jaz kinda exploded him and then we came back here.”
“Jaz exploded a Bitter Saint. As in he’s dead.”
I scratched my head. “I mean, unless they can survive being incinerated by a DIY bazooka, then yes, he’s dead.”
Skylar folded her hands together over her mouth as she swore softly. She seemed scared, which worried me.
“I’m gonna assume that’s a bad thing.” My deductive skills were super sharp like that.
Skylar didn’t reply. She headed straight to the office, where she began typing on the computer. I couldn’t see what she was looking up, but I did notice that the search engine was something named Oracle. Skylar was muttering to herself, her shoulders tense. I caught the word retaliation and let me tell you that did not inspire confidence in me.
“Wait, so if this is such a bad thing, then why did Jaz blow up the Saint?”
Skylar looked over her shoulder, her mouth set in a thin line.
I felt my heart drop. “Unless she didn’t know how bad it was either.” Alarm bells were going off in my brain now. Jaz seemed to have a pretty good grip on this whole Other Life thing and if she was in the dark about the Bitter Saints…
Skylar found what she was looking for on the computer. She read for a minute before resting her head in her hands and letting out a long, shuddering sigh. She closed out the page quickly.
I stood awkwardly in the doorway. “So…”
Skylar stood suddenly, knocking the chair backward. I stuttered and tried to ask something, but Skylar blew past me and marched straight over to Carol’s tank. The orange octopus floated up to the surface of the water and stretched out one of her tentacles. Skylar bent down and let Carol’s tentacle touch her forehead. They stayed that way for a full minute before I finally decided to ask Lucky what the two of them were doing. Of course, so far every answer that I had received had only brought on a dozen more questions, so maybe it was a bad idea.
Lucky took in the sight of the octopus holding its tentacle to Skylar’s forehead like it was giving some kind of weird seafood blessing. She was busy mixing something in a big steel bowl, but she answered me over her shoulder. “Oh, Skylar is just meeting with Carol in her office.”
I pointed back at the room with the computer where we had just been. “Huh?”
Lucky giggled. “Not that office. Don’t worry about it. They’re just having a conversation.” She must have noticed my expression showing a glimpse of how overwhelmed I was. Her smile softened. “Hey, why don’t you take a break for a bit.” She nodded over toward the few chairs and coffee table near the garage door.
I took her advice and plopped down in the chair. I held my head in my hands and concentrated on breathing for a few minutes. When my mind had settled a fraction, I looked up.
Skylar and Carol were still standing silently at the tank, connected by the tentacle. I could hear Freddie singing some pop song from the drive-thru booth. Lucky was humming along as she whisked up some dish, her light dancing causing the knives on her belt to jingle. A series of loud, metallic clangs echoed through the garage door followed by a tirade of muffled curses. Everything in the Red Pineapple was so strange and unusual, yet at the same time, it was so normal, so mundane.
Lucky came out of the kitchen, winked at me, then disappeared into the freezer.
I heard a couple cars pull into the garage, then voices. The garage door opened and in walked two people, both in the T-shirts and ball caps of the Red Pineapple. One was the short, stocky dude with the massive chin and the forearm tattoos that had delivered my pizza the other day. The other dude was wearing dark slacks and a long grey trenchcoat, along with sunglasses. He had very undercover-spy vibes going on. They both paused when they saw me, suspicion on their features.
“Argh, who are you, stranger?” the spy guy asked. His English was good, but I could still hear his underlying Russian accent.
The short guy reached his hands into his pockets and pulled out brass knuckles that were stained dark red and brown.
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“Whoa, whoa!” I said, lifting my hands in surrender. “I’m Arthur Hardwick, I’m the new guy.”
“New guy?” The Russian said, cocking his head. “I did not know we were getting a ‘new guy’.” He reached a hand into his coat.
I backed up, my eyes darting around for an escape. The two stepped closer, backing me against the wall.
“I just got here today!” I said.
“Or you’re spy,” The Russian said. “Who sent you? 8th Legion? Cataclysm? Bogongo Gang?”
“Salad League?” The short guy snarled, thrusting his chin close to me. It somehow felt more dangerous than the brass knuckles.
“Wait… Salad League? That can’t be a thing.”
The Russian pulled out an old Mauser C96 pistol. “Oh, but they are. And they’re a vicious, bloodthirsty band of cutthroat vegans.”
“That seems contradictory,” I muttered.
The chin guy growled and raised a fist.
I cowered.
The garage door rumbled open.
“Wait! Stop!” Jaz burst into the restaurant, grime, sweat and oil streaked across her face and her hand wrapped in a new bandage.
“Jaz, we’ve caught an intruder in the Pineapple!” The Russian said, pointing his pistol at me.
The short guy smacked his brass knuckles together with a clang. “In-terr-o-gate.” He sounded out each syllable with some difficulty.
Jaz rushed over and pushed them away. “Oh god, sorry, no no, don’t do that. Arthur here is not a spy. He’s our newest coworker.”
The Russian scratched his temple with the barrel of his gun in a way that would make any safety supervisor have an aneurysm. “Really? But he’s so scrawny and weak-looking.”
“Puny.” Chin guy said.
“He can’t possibly be up to this job,” the Russian said.
Jaz smirked. “Oh, he is, let me tell you. I already went out on a delivery with him. Look, I forgot to tell you when you came in. I was busy working.”
The Russian grinned. “You were smashing car with wrench.”
“Ang-ger man-age-ment.” The short guy grumbled.
Jaz scoffed. “I was… ugh, you don’t know how mechanics work.”
“Not like that, I know,” the Russian said.
“Man, shut your mouth, Red,” Jaz snapped, giving his chest a shove. Red grinned as he stumbled back. Jaz was strong enough to move the tall, broad-shouldered man backward with one hand.
Beside him, the stocky guy chuckled, sounding like an old cartoon grandpa. He then began coughing, a harsh hacking wheezing sound, like he’d been smoking a pack a day for the last 5 decades.
Jaz worked her hands, trying to calm down. “No, but seriously, Arthur’s cool. Don’t kill him. He’s one of us now.”
I still had my hands in the air, but I gave the scary men my most innocent smile.
Red narrowed his eyes and peered carefully into mine for a long moment. Just as it was becoming awkward or possibly sexually charged, I’m not entirely certain, he threw his head back with a laugh and holstered his pistol somewhere beneath his jacket. “Ha! Welcome aboard comrade! Pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand.
I slowly extended mine, unsure of, well everything.
He grasped my hand in a bone-crunching grip and shook it fiercely. “Call me Red, I am ex-KGB, but now my loyalty belongs to Red Pineapple. We are now brothers-in-arms.” He finally released my hand.
“Uh… thank you?” I held my right wrist with my left hand and tried to shake some feeling into the hand Red had crushed. He might as well have clamped it in an industrial-grade vice. “Wait, hasn’t the KGB been dead for like decades?”
Red ignored the question and kicked the short guy toward me. He stuck out a stocky, muscled arm, letting me get a good look at the tattoos on his forearms. The spirals were more complicated than I had originally thought. They were more like a bunch of interconnected knots, reminiscent of old Celtic designs.
I clumsily shook his still-armed-with-brass-knuckles hand and he grumbled his name, “Chin.”
I had been staring at his giant chin. It was like someone had taped a flesh-coloured cereal box to his face. “I’m sorry?”
“Chin. Name.” He nodded abruptly and pulled back his hand.
“You can’t be serious.” I looked at the others for help.
Red spread his hands. “True, his name is Chin.”
“That’s what we all call him,” Jaz said. “No idea if it’s his real name, but that’s all I’ve ever heard him referred to as.”
Chin planted his feet and put his hands on his hips. “Chin,” he said, adamantly. And that was the end of that conversation.
Apparently, a bigger chin meant less room for syllables.
Jaz faced me. “Well, now you should have met everybody, assuming you’ve seen Bicoe.”
“Is that the one in the freezer with the parka and the ice throne and the terrifying, soul-piercing eyes?”
Jaz grinned, wiping her dirty hands on the rag she kept in her back pocket. “That’s the one.”
“Uh, wh…what’s their deal?”
Jaz glances toward the heavy freezer door, currently closed. “Oh, they’re our security.”
I wrinkled my brow. “In the freezer?”
“Best way to keep them fresh and out of trouble,” Red explained.
I mouthed the word fresh but before I could inquire, Skylar pulled away from the fish tank. Carol withdrew her tentacle but stayed at the top of the tank.
Skylar blinked a few times and shook her head before noticing the crowd in the kitchen. “Oh, you’re all here. Perfect.” She called over her shoulder. “Freddie! Quit doodling on the walls and get in here!”
I heard rustling and bumping and pencils scattering across the floor before Freddie appeared in the kitchen. “What? You need something, Skylar?”
“We need to have a team meeting. Where’s Lucky?”
I motioned toward the freezer.
Everyone was looking at the blonde woman, waiting.
She shook her head and pointed to the octopus.
Jaz froze. “Wait, all of us? We actually get to talk to Carol?”
Skylar sighed. “Yep, everybody. Even Popsicle.” She gestured toward the freezer.
I looked between the employees. This seemed like a big event. “So, is this not normal, or…?”
“Only Skylar talks to Boss,” Red said.
“Oh.” I looked back at Skylar. She was more of a big deal here than I had realized. She didn’t look older than early twenties, and honestly, she looked more like she should have been modelling on social media than working in a pizza joint.
She walked to the freezer before looking back at us. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
Jaz, Red, Freddie and I looked at each other, uncertain. Chin, on the other chin, I mean, hand, stomped over to the fish tank, grabbed a step stool from under the table and climbed up to face the orange cephalopod. He leaned close as a rubbery, suction-cuppy tentacle reached up and touched his forehead.
“Yeah, like that.” Skylar opened the freezer and disappeared inside.
“He sure looked like he knew what he was doing,” I said.
Jaz scratched her head. “He has been here longer than anyone other than Skylar. I guess he could have had a chat with the Boss before.”
“Somethin’ big must be goin’ down, huh?” Freddie asked. “Any idea what happened?”
Jaz and I shared a look. “Um…”
“You did somethin’ on your delivery, didn’t you?” Freddie adjusted his glasses nervously.
“You could say that,” I shrugged.
“Oh no…” Freddie tapped his fingers rapidly on his thigh. “Please tell me this doesn’t mean overtime.”
The freezer door opened and Skylar stepped out, followed by Lucky and the parka person, Bicoe. Skylar scoffed. “What are you losers waiting for?” She pointed at the tank.
The rest of us all jumped and hurried to the tank, avoiding her gaze like a bunch of scolded school kids. I heard Skylar muttering unflattering things under her breath. She seemed rather exasperated.
As we all gathered around the tank, Carol reached out more of her tentacles. I balked at the sight of the wriggling suction cups and had a sudden urge to never eat seafood again, but as the rest of the Pineapple Squad allowed Coral to connect with their foreheads, I swallowed my myriad of uncomfortable feelings and leaned forward. The moment Carol touched me, it was like I woke up from a dream. I opened my eyes and I was in a completely different space. It was a lavish, carpeted office, with panelled wooden walls and large bookcases packed with old tomes, scrolls and assorted oddities. Several dozen snowglobes dotted the shelves. An oil painting of a Napoleonic officer duelling a samurai hung between the bookcases. A coffee table and several cushioned chairs were off to one side, while the main chunk of the office was taken up by a massive, fancy desk. There was a window opposite the coffee table. Outside was a crazy cityscape, with neon lights and flashing signs and a general haze of unknown smog. It was a regular cyberpunk haven out there. But grabbing my attention was the figure at the desk. It was an orange octopus, like the one in the tank, but this one was the size of a horse and clothed in a posh ladies’ outfit, pearl necklace and all. This octopus was giving off serious middle-aged bank teller vibes.
Everyone else was standing beside me in the office. They looked real; I couldn’t tell the difference between in here and out there, even though I was pretty sure I was still standing next to a fish tank in a pizza joint.
“Sweet Mother Mary!” Red groaned. “What is this witchcraft?”
Jaz scoffed. “This is not the weirdest thing you’ve seen, Red.”
The Russian tapped his hands over his chest, arms and face, making sure his body still existed. “But how am I here? I was in Red Pineapple, now I am here. Where is here?”
Freddie looked out the windows at the towering skyscrapers, flashing lights and neon billboards advertising every manner of good and service. A moment later, a man was thrown out a window before falling to the street five stories below. In the distance, a small explosion rocked a metal tower that looked like a rejected first draft of the Eiffel Tower. “Evil Vegas?” Freddie guessed.
Surprisingly accurate guess. Just gotta add more Tokyo and the lawlessness of a Mid-Western gold rush town.
A cheerful, British voice made all of us jump. “No, not Vegas, Freddie. Atlantis.”
It was the octopus. Carol. Our boss.
“So that’s what you sound like,” Jaz said.
Red narrowed his eyes at Carol. “Bloody English…”
Carol rolled her eyes and since her eyes took up a quarter of her body the motion nearly made me throw up. “You’re not in the Soviet Union anymore, Red. You aren’t at war.”
Red muttered in Russian.
I was busy looking out the window. “Wait, this is Atlantis. We’re really here?”
“No, not really. You’re in my office, which is Atlantis, but only because you’re connected to me. You can’t leave this room, you would just be back in the Pineapple.”
“Wow! This place is so cool!” Lucky gushed, her tail all bushed up happily as she practically sprinted around the office, examining everything she could. She picked up one of the snow globes that had a desert scene within it, pyramid and all. “Whoa! There’s a snake coming out of the pyramid!”
“Don’t touch stuff,” Skylar said, arms crossed. Her frown was even deeper than normal. Lucky pouted and put the globe back.
Bicoe scanned the room slowly from under their parka hood. I noticed they wore two katanas strapped over their shoulders. Even more terrifying.
Our boss, the giant octopus looked us over. Her eyes felt like spotlights as they roamed over each one. Carol brought her tentacles together above her desk like she was steepling her fingers. When she spoke, there was a curious tone to her voice. “Ah and once again, the Red Pineapple has Eight. As it should.”
I looked up and down the line. A dwarf with a giant chin and brass knuckles. A Native guy who was more interested in drawing than working. A muscular mechanic who built RPGs out of fire extinguishers. A mysterious ninja who lived in a freezer. A bubbly cook with a fox tail and an affinity for knives. A spy from the Soviet Union. A college girl who knew way more than she let on. And me a broke loser. What a motley crew we were.
“You must be positively wondering why I chose now of all times to have tea with you all,” Carol said.
I cocked my head. “Tea?”
One tentacle reached across the room to the coffee table and brought out a tea tray filled with steaming porcelain cups. She handed (tentacled?) them out. The tea was greenish and rather aromatic, but there were floaty bits of red and purple that seemed mighty suspicious. For some reason, my brain thought this seemed familiar, but the more I tried to snag the slippery thought, the further away it seemed. I shrugged. Deja vu wasn’t important.
Skylar, Bicoe and Chin all accepted the cups without a second thought. Chin began slurping his noisily. Lucky gushed about the flavour and thanked Carol as she cupped the vessel in both hands and sipped. The rest of us eyed the tea dubiously.
“I think my grandfather drinks this stuff.” Freddie sniffed it cautiously.
Jaz just set hers down.
Red wrinkled his nose. “In Motherland, we only drink vodka and blood of enemies.”
Freddie whipped his head around to look at the tall man. “You do?”
Red laughed. “Ha, tricked you!” He made a face. “About the blood. The vodka is true.”
Interrupting the boys, Jaz addressed Carol. “Yeah, we are wondering. What’s this all about?”
Everyone tuned in, interested to hear what was so urgent that Carol had brought them all to her real office for the first time.
The octopus folded her two front-most tentacles over the desk. “As all of you are aware, the Other Life is teeming with all manner of oddities. You’ve come to know some of them since joining the Pineapple. With them comes a variety of dangers that you all have learned to deal with.”
Red pulled out his pistol with a grin. “You can say that again.” He glanced at Chin, who clanked his brass knuckles together.
There was amusement in Carol’s voice as she continued. “You have learned to navigate the ecosystem of the Other Life here in the city, for the most part. Organizations are predictable, people follow patterns that can be studied. Bogongo Gang stays west of the river. Cataclysm is only active at night. Grishads only attack when they see the colour purple. The Zhaad can be appeased with gifts of minerals and metals.”
“You can fend off Salad Gang by throwing steaks at them!” Lucky said with a familiarity that I could only assume meant she had actually done that before.
“Indeed,” Carol said. “Of course, things become more complicated beyond the boundaries of Saskatoon, but generally speaking, the rules of the Other Life have been understood, yes?”
The employees nodded.
Carol continued. “One of those rules is to never look at a Bitter Saint.”
“That’s like rule number one,” Freddie said. “No one is dumb enough to break that one.”
Carol fixed her large eyes on him, unblinking.
“Unless, wait… oh my god!” Freddie faced Jaz and I. “That’s what you did on the delivery? You looked at a Bitter Saint?”
Red clicked his tongue like a disapproving mother. “Rookie mistake.”
I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks. “But I am a rookie! This is my first day! I accidentally glanced sideways when someone pulled up beside me. How was I supposed to know it was a homicidal maniac who hates eye contact?”
“Hey, guys, ease up on him,” Lucky said. “He’s right, it’s all brand new.”
“Thank you,” I said, glad someone was sticking up for me.
She continued. “It’s not his fault he did the dumbest thing he could have.”
“Wait…” I think she had just insulted me somehow, but before I could figure out how Carol cleared her throat (beak?) and got our attention.
Our octo-boss, who I was just now realizing wasn’t in water, spoke. “Yes, it is quite unfortunate that Arthur ran into the Saints so immediately and of course, we don’t blame you for accidentally looking. In fact, we should be congratulating you on surviving the encounter.”
“Ah, good point,” Red said. “Normally, Saints brutally slaughter anyone who crosses them. So, how did you survive?”
Chin squinted and glared at me. “Hmm.” I wondered if he needed glasses. Freddie and Lucky both looked at me with a surprised realization.
I coughed. “Um, that would mostly be Jaz’s doing. I just drove the car. Jaz was the one who blew them up.”
“Blew them up?” Freddie asked. “What do you mean?”
Jaz shrugged. “I rigged up a cannon with a bunch of junk in the back of the car and then shot them with the homemade rocket. Kaboom. No more Saint.”
Lucky’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her cheeks, her tail curled upward. “Eeee! You made a rocket launcher? That’s so cool!”
“Impressive,” Red said. “It lacks the finesse of a well-planned assassination, but great thinking in a pinch.”
Freddie grunted. “You made a rocket launcher out of trash but you can’t fix my microwave.”
“Don’t want to. There’s a difference,” Jaz said.
Freddie spread his hands. “What the hell?”
“Guys!” Skylar’s voice cut through the babble. Everyone shut up. She was angry, but I got the sense it wasn’t directed at us. “Cut it out. Jaz killing the Saint saved her and Arthur. But let me make this clear. It was not a good idea.”
Jaz scoffed. “What are you talking about? Anything that lets me not die horribly is a great idea.”
“Just think for a minute!” Skylar snapped. “A single Saint will hunt down and eliminate anyone who even looks at them. There’s a real big difference between looking at someone and killing someone. So now, think of what kind of retribution an organization made of vengeful psychopaths will enact as payback for exploding one of their own.”
Silence fell over the room. Each one digested Skylar’s outburst quietly. The phrase ‘a sinking feeling’ was one I’d heard before, but I didn’t think it was all that accurate. Now, however, I understood it perfectly. The dread that rose up at Skylar’s words seemed to pull me downward and crush me under its weight.
Chin grunted. “Gonna be bad week. Need more knuckles.”
“Bad week is right.” Carol took control of the conversation again. “However bluntly put, Skylar is correct. The Bitter Saints have a ferocious reputation for a reason. Their retaliation is… extreme.” One of her tentacles reached over to a keypad and she typed in a command. A holographic screen flashed to life over her desk and she flicked through the windows until it showed several dozen camera feeds that seemed to be recording live all over the city. She zoomed in on one feed in particular. It showed a rather scenic park near the river side, with manicured trees and flowerbeds and several picnic tables. There was a small mound in the centre of the green beneath a pine tree. Stabbed several inches into the ground was the blade of a European spear that looked like it had been snatched right out of a museum display. Tied around the haft, blowing in the wind was a black flag with a purple symbol of a horn.
“What does that mean?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
Freddie gulped. “I know what that is. Many cultures used a similar custom when they were… declarin' war.” He slowly met my eyes.
I was breathing heavily, my palms were sweating and I began to hear a high-pitched ringing in my ears. I had been freaked out pretty much the last two days, but now, I was actually panicking. The rest of the gang seemed nervous, except for Chin and Bicoe, whose face I couldn’t see. And Carol.
“Spot on, Freddie!” Carol said, far too cheerily. “This is in fact, the Bitter Saint proclaiming to the city that they are on the warpath. And since you, Arthur, were the one who first started the chase that led to the exploding of their comrade, you will be the primary target. Oh, what fun!”
I fainted.