For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the world and lose his soul?

Mark 8v36

Darius turned his head to the left and right, checking his reflection in the mirror. He still didn’t know if he liked how he looked. The crisp suit, the white shirt, the thin tie, well, that looked cool, really cool, but something was wrong.

Too young?

No.

Too small?

Somehow, he looked different and thought it might be the hat.

Was it making him seem shorter? That couldn’t be… a hat makes you taller.

Maybe like a little kid playing dress up, wearing his dad’s hat.

It was definitely the hat that was bothering him. When he put the hat on, it changed his entire look in the mirror. It was a man’s old-fashioned hat on a kid. It even had an old hatband with a little brown feather in it. He hadn’t worn it much since he got it, and now, after finally getting to study his appearance in a mirror, he knew why. He didn’t feel right in it, and it made him look even smaller. He didn’t like that.

Brock was one sink over getting ready in front of his own mirror. Brock was big. Taller. He was not tall for an adult, but he had a bulk to him, too. Darius considered Brock as still a kid, like the rest of them, but he looked like a man. Not as old as a man, but like a man. It was his size combined with that twelve o’clock shadow that did it. Darius didn’t want to have to shave all the time, but still, to look more like a man, even with the shaving part, would be better. Darius wished he had a presence like Brock did, and the stupid hat was taking him entirely in the opposite direction. And Brock looked cool, too. His skin was black as night, like Badrik. Long hair over that square jaw. Brock looked badass. Darius figured he must be like the cool older boy in the YA novels who made all the girls “suddenly dizzy” when he showed up on the scene.

Darius took his hat off, sat it on the tile shelf between the sink and the mirror, and studied his chin in the reflection.

No sign of a beard yet either. Not even a single hair.

“Do, ah… leprechauns have beards?”

Brock stopped combing his hair, thought for a moment, and nodded. “Leprechauns? Well, I guess so. Ya. I think so…” He canted his head, checked his look, and continued combing. “Ya. I think I remember. A cartoon picture or something from somewhere… like, this little red-haired dude with a red beard, or maybe it was orange.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. But definitely, all leprechauns wore green, though. And your suit isn’t green. So stop worrying about it. You’re not becoming a Leprechaun. It's just a hat they gave you. A gift.” He went back to combing his hair and mumbled, “At least I don’t think you’re becoming a leprechaun.”

“Very funny. I better not start growing orange hair,” Darius said, glancing at his hat. But the hat had a bit of a green hue to it. He thought he saw a little green there in that dark shadowy material, but he wouldn’t point that out to Brock. He checked Brock’s new suit for any green in it. He wore a suit with a cut similar to the one Darius wore, but Brock’s was heavier and thicker all over. The bulky suit made Brock look like one of those dispatch drivers in an old movie that ripped around on a chunky low motorcycle with big ice cream scoop fenders. Brock’s jacket was long and wide with two rows of black buttons. Mercury had called it double-breasted. It had been reinforced with heavy material over the shoulders, knees, and elbows. It had come with tall boots and long gloves.

“I like your suit. It looks really tough.”

“Ya. It feels tough. ‘It will wear like iron,’ Mercury said.”

“I wonder why I didn’t get gloves or boots?”

“You’ve got the hat. I didn’t get a hat. Nobody but you got a hat.”

“Ya. I know. And that worries me. But you also got the mystery bag.” He plopped the hat back on his head and looked sideways at the mirror. “I’m kinda afraid of what the hat will do.”

“Same as me with this suit. It’s a weird get-up. At least your suit just looks like a suit. Like you’re going to grad or something.”

“Ya. A little kid going to grad and wearing his grandpa’s hat, trying to look big.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to say when you get in there?” Brock asked, straightening his tie again.

“I don’t know. The truth, I guess.” Darius tipped the hat, checked the look, and then re-adjusted it, and finally, giving up, left it and brushed his sleeves. He didn’t know how many times he had brushed invisible lint off his sleeves.

Nervous.

He wished they could just go.

Behind them, one of the stalls flushed, the door clicked open, and out strode Nova. Taller. He glanced down at the bright red dress shoes. She was the same height as him now with the pumps on. Today, they were dress shoes. Since she had got them, they had been red high-top sneakers.

She strode to the sink beside him. She was also wearing a new crisp suit, in the same style as theirs, but hers was even more finely cut than Darius's.

“My shoes from Mercury look bitchen’ today. I know. You don’t have to say. But I see you staring and jealous.”

“Brock’s case changes, too,” Darius said and flicked his head slightly towards his buddy. He looked quizzically at himself in the mirror. “But I don’t know why my hat doesn’t change.”

“Change into what? Beret? You would look silly in beret. And you not French. And Brock’s case still not as good as shoes from Mercury. He still doesn’t know what case do anyway.” She said, checking her hair.

“It gives me things.” Brock countered.

“Mercury say dat.” Nova shrugged. “A tool kit? So what. It still never give anything. What is so magic?” She straightened her already straight tie. “My shoes better.”

“And I have a hat.”

“Yes. I like it. It cool. Look like Frank Sinatra hat. I like it. We still don’t know what it do.”

“It’s supposed to take things.” Darius didn’t know what that meant, but he hoped it wasn’t taking any of his height.

“Ah yes. But like case, hat doesn’t work. My shoes work.”

“They should have just given us three sets of shoes.” Brock said.

“Girl’s shoes?” Darius asked.

“Don’t be silly. If Mercury give shoes you, they boy shoes. He give shoes me, they girl shoes. And this thing about telling the truth. I hear you boys speaking this. You be careful Darius. Sometimes all the truth is not best, sometimes it is worst. No?”

She finished with a few touches of her hair. Darius thought the white blond spun glass always perfectly framed her crystal eyes and delicate features.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Ya. She could be right there, mate. You know, all that tweaking we did. Maybe we’ve nudged a few dominos a little too much. Maybe they caught us out on something we don’t know about yet. We’re pretty new at this.”

How bout totally new at this, Darius thought.

“I know I right. We are learning. I think back, you guys do stupid things.”

Darius looked at her reflection, and their eyes caught.

“Ok. Me too, sometimes, maybe do stupid things,” she shrugged those delicate shoulders. “But not as much as you two. You break law of Chaos; not even Mercury can help. I think you shud-up in there and not say too much.”

“What is this stuff about ME breaking the laws? I remember you guys doing some domino bashing, too.”

“We weren’t always together, man,” Brock said. He turned and put a hand on Darius’ shoulder.

“We’re not saying we don’t have your back. You know it would never be like that with us. We’re just saying we weren’t ALL there ALL the time. They can cross-check our stories. Question us separately like they do on cop shows man. So we can’t make stuff up, and we can’t lie. That would sink us. If you’re going to go in there and lay it all out, well, I’m with Nova; you could be giving them all the rope they need to hang us, even if we aren’t actually guilty of anything.”

“Yes. Is easy to make stuff stick to idiot, even if stuff don’t belong to idiot. Then everyone else stay clean.”

“Ok,” Darius said, showing his palms. “I get the point. Now, are you ready yet?” He looked at Nova.

“Of course. Of course. I'm just waiting for you boys.” Darius pushed his hat to a different angle. “I don’t know...” he said, studying himself in the mirror. “Catchers don’t wear hats, we wear masks.”

“Hat is cool. I already said. You look like Frank Sinatra. And not old fat Sinatra, but young cool Sinatra. You have dark look, like young mob gangster.” She turned and studying the front of his suit, slipped her fingers inside his jacket lapels. “Look nice. And like you say, hat is supposed to take things. And you catcher. Maybe hat catches.”

Darius was sure he just felt his breath catch. Nova ran her fingers down the inside of his lapels, pressed them flat, and then brushed his collar. His heart pounded a thud-thud, and then it started up and ran normally again.

“They give gifts. Like my shoes. Hat is special gift to you. You have to wear it.” She patted his shoulder. “From some dead lucky guy they used to know.”

“They didn’t say he was dead Nova. They said he was gone cuz nobody believed in him anymore.” Brock said.

“Brock. Dead. Gone. Whatever. He left his hat. Darius has been given it. Don’t worry so much Darius. Not so big deal. You look good.”

Darius turned, wished he had something cold to drink, and concentrated on walking to the exit. Brock and Nova fell beside him, and they strode across the black-and-white tiled floor, passing identical porcelain sinks and mirrors that gleamed along the wall.

They paused by the door as Brock picked up his case.

Nova looked at it, “I thought it was black violin case?” she asked.

“It was a violin case yesterday while were sightseeing. I guess that was because a violin case would fit in better around an orchestra. Today, it is a black briefcase, like a lawyer would carry. I think because we’re in the Multidimensional Halls of Justice, or whatever it is they call this place. We never would have been able to avoid that concert hall yesterday. You know how Mercury likes music. Yesterday, it was a violin case; today, it’s a briefcase. I like it better when it’s a backpack. It’s annoying having to drag it around all the time.” They pushed through the washroom door and into a narrow hallway. Brock strode on one side of Darius with Nova on his other side, her red heels click-clacking on the tile.

She was right; their Sinatra suits did look rad.

“I wish my hat would change into a ball cap. A ball cap would be ok.”

“You look stupid ball cap with suit. I would not even walk these shoes with someone with ball cap. And red runners don’t go with my suit. No. Today my shoes bitchin. Your hat always fancy. They match.”

“If you don’t want to carry it all over, then just leave it someplace. Check it with the concierge back at the hotel or something.” Darius said.

“Ya, I’ve tried that. I can’t. It just shows up in the next room or around the next corner. I’ve even tried losing it. When I was on my way to meet you guys for lunch, I suddenly had this bright idea to drop it in the hall, turn around and walk the long way to the diner. So I did. And when I turned the corner, it was sitting in front of the diner. I still ignored it, walked past it, and there it was in front of the table with you guys.”

“Case made you late for meeting us at lunch.”

“So then you don’t have to carry it. It will just show up where you are.”

“Ya. I’m not too sure about that. When I do that it’s like I can feel it getting mad at me. Last night, I did a little test; I grabbed it, went into the hallway and dropped it down the garbage chute. I got back to my room and thought I was safe. No case. I went into the bathroom and tripped on it and nearly fell head first into the tub.”

“It get you back for drop in garbage. My shoes definitely better gift.”

Brock glanced over to Nova and nodded in agreement.

“Ya. I think so. I think it’s safer just to carry it around. I don’t want it getting pissed at me again.”

“That’s annoying. It means my hat will probably do the same thing. I probably won’t be able to not have it with me either then.”

“The other guy was able to leave it,” Brock said.

“Because maybe he was dead,” Darius replied.

They exited the small side hall into a towering cathedral-like corridor made of marble and stone. It was a great hall was entirely deserted. Carved stone arches framed stained-glass windows. Coloured sunlight leaned in long muted rectangles of light across walls and floors of stone and marble far off into the distance in either direction.

Darius stood with his hands plunged into his suit pockets. “This place sure is massive. I think this hall runs in miles in either direction.”

“Do we know where we’re going?” Brock asked.

“No.” Darius replied. “But Mercury said we’d know it when we see it. Let’s try walking this way first. But we may have to double back.”

They began to stroll down the hall and then Nova stopped.

“No. This not right. The other way.” She turned around. The boys glanced at each other, turned, and joined her.

Periodically, along the walls were heavy doors set into alcoves. Each set of wooden doors seemed comparable to the size of a castle gate. None of them had any visible handles, knobs, or drawbars, but high front and center on each door seemed to be some exotic form of identification. A few were normal, or more normal, that they could identify. Numbers or letters in some foreign language or a shield hung there with a banner or field of colour. But mostly, the identification on the doors was strange. Some had clusters of crystals; some had swirling multi-dimensional images; others had slashes, like claw marks across them, and others had nothing they could see but gave off a scent, sound or vibration as they passed. Many doors had no marking or possibly a marking that they couldn’t perceive.

They walked for a bit and then came to a slow stop in front of a set of doors with the number ‘1830’ in brass relief on them. The doors' seams met between the numbers eight and three.

“This is us,” Nova said. “Our player numbers: Brock eight-teen, you eight, my three, and the drone - zero.”

She hadn’t finished speaking before the doors swung open. The room beyond was pitch black. The three of them peered cautiously across the threshold. They weren’t sure if the floor was solid. It seemed to be represented by a flat layer of swirling obsidian.

Nova cautiously extended the toe of a red shoe over the threshold to tap a solid floor they couldn’t see, and she stepped across. The boys joined her, their eyes searching in the darkness after the bright sunlight of the corridor.

The heavy double doors boomed shut behind them.

“All in attendance,” a deep, disembodied male voice said in the dark room. It continued, “Court is now in session. We will proceed. Accused are requested to make their way to the dock.” A spot of light came on to highlight a cramped seating box set with straight-back barewood chairs.

“Ah, with all due respect…” That answering voice was Mercury’s, and the three of them felt a touch of comfort. He continued. “A miscarriage of justice has not been clearly established, so proceedings indicate that the accused may be allowed to sit at the council table until a crime has been proven, without a doubt.”

“Barrister, your statement is sustained. The accused may proceed to the council table.”

“Thank you, Tribune.” Mercury’s voice replied. The spotlight dimmed, and a closer light came on to illuminate a table. It looked like a type of large wooden work table you’d find in a university library, complete with expensive looking antique leather chairs.

Brock placed his case on the table. Darius removed his hat and went to slide it onto the table, but he stopped and tucked it onto his lap as he sat. Nova sat down beside him and clasped her hands together. She looked calm, but he could tell her grip was tight; her fingertips pressed into white.

Nervous too.

A glow slowly materialized across the room, like a moon appearing through thinning fog. As the light grew, Darius glanced around for Mercury or anyone, for that matter, but despite the voices around them, it seemed they were alone. The glow continued to grow in size and formed into a distinct round shape, like a giant partially obscure face. Then another glow materialized beside this first one, and then another, until seven grey clouds shimmered.

The first cloud churned and rolled as the voice of the Tribune spoke.

“Barrister, you represent, in this case of interference across boundaries in the law of existence. How do your clients plead?”

“My firm has not yet received a response on a petition five zero two three dash seven alpha filed with the court regarding the specifics of these accused parties.” Mercury’s voice again. Darius glanced over his shoulder, but still, he could see nothing. He couldn’t even make out the doors that they had passed through.

“With regard to those you are defending, the accused is Darius Stormcloud.” Darius’ head snapped back around to focus on the cloud that was the Tribune. It had his complete attention while it continued.

Me?

“Nova Antinov and Brock Mapstone will be permitted to testify on behalf of the prosecution. Let the proceedings begin. In this court, it is mandatory that the accused make official testimony for the record. Mr. Stormclould, you may begin.”

Brock leaned towards him and whispered. “So much for that advice about not spilling all the beans there, chief.”