The smoke isn't getting to me as bad as usual. I'm probably just getting used to it, which is kind of worrying. That means I am getting cancer or something, losing my sense of smell and taste. It can't be good for me. And the cigar right next to me is only making it worse. Riot Girl isn't really much of a filter. For anything.. I'll have to air it out for a week so my room doesn't reek like tobacco. It already smells like river and industrial progress on some days.
We're waiting for the rest of our cabal of terrible miscreants to show. Doppel's checking his phone, trying to keep on top of the business of taking people's money legally like all businesses do. Sunday's on his best behavior with his own cigar. The spindly fingers turn and stoke the embers, sloughing off the length of ash to land on the mountain in the tray. A ring comes from his mouth and joins the sea of swirling clouds dancing in the hazy light. I cough and adjust myself in the worn chair. The sound echoes and settles with no one commenting on. There's a window. There's a window right there and they can just open it and end all the torment in the world.
"If they don't show," Doppel says, "I gotta bounce. There's an issue with the grocery supplier and they want a face to yell at."
"So, send one of the Doppels that's in time out," Sunday says, "Or in the corner. Or however you punish rouge Doppels."
"We go for pure rehabilitation and understanding when a Doppel breaks the agreement. Also, Doppels don't break the agreement when manifested fully. So, yeah. That last little raid has stretched me pretty thin."
"So, make more Doppels. Nonstop infinite Doppels. Doppels from sea to shining sea," says Riot.
"Lot of work goes into a fully-fledged manifestation. Not a snap my fingers thing. Takes time, room, the right headspace. I also like to put on a fun ceremony when I do it. Nothing fancy, but everyone needs cake on their birthday."
Riot and I do not disagree, even as the uncomfortable silence drifts back in through the air. Getting close the Sunday's now that I think about. Pay people to get in cages with little clothing and dance around, somehow find more whiskey and beer for everyone to drink, things to smoke, good times to be had by all. But all the thoughts in the world can't really help the moments tick by faster. I drum my fingers on the table. They need to be here, and I don't know what they want to say.
There's a knock on the door and we are saved from the terrible purgatory of small talk. Sunday yells to let whoever the hell it is in. And the goons on the other side do so beautifully.
"Sorry, sorry," says Alizarin as she crashes into a chair and kicks her feet up, "the trains got backed up. And the buses from upstate always take forever."
I shrug and I don't have anything to say. No one does. We're still waiting for Violence to waltz in. We got nothing. A knock comes again and Bloody Sunday doesn't even give out words anymore. He just has harsh grunts and vague gestures. And it brings in the Violence who slowly slips through the room. Her motions are back to graceful and serene, but they are careful. They don't show the bandages and the pain and the remnants of last night. She has nothing on her face, not even the blush or smug smile or anything really. She is calm and still and probably a little tired.
"Do you have a fun excuse for the class," says Riot.
"Overslept and part of me didn't want to come," Violence sighs.
"This was like half your idea though," Alizarin says.
"Yeah, but it's one of those things where you say you want to go out, but then the time comes and you just want to go back to bed and slip under the blankets and watch a movie or something."
Riot nods sagely and slips into her quiet patience. Still, she is still save for the smoldering embers in her hands slowly growing a length of ash. Sunday clears his throat and stands.
"So," he says with a suppressed cough, "Here we are again a with the world under our heels and a loaded- "
"Not today old man," says Violence, "sorry, but I'm not in the mood. Ruby thing happened last night and I'm still feeling Deadman slamming me into the dirt."
"And us rocking her world," Riot whispers to me. I barely stifle a classroom snicker.
"So, I was going to call one for tomorrow, but since little red riding hood over there called one for tonight, figured might as well hop on this bandwagon. Floor's yours, kid. But please, make it short."
Alizarin takes her boots off the table and adjusts her mask. The demon snarls and glares at all of us, but the mouth underneath is nervous, all things considered. Odd contrast, even odder still considering how steady her hands are.
"I'm in," she says, "the Hall thing, I'm in."
Sunday smiles and starts the gleam in his eyes shining and twinkling with the most innocent urge to destroy. I'm surprised he doesn't start stamping his feet and running laps, just to burn off the excess energy.
"Same," says Violence. More energy, more stupid child sugar rushes slipping through the air, through the swirls of smoke.
"Incredible," he smiles, "Took a good long while. Make sure you get your shoes shined since you both were dragging your feet."
"Bite me old man," Violence says, "It was a stupid idea, but now it's a stupid idea that I happened to fall for. Like you and all those telemarketer things."
"Bastards almost got me. Not my fault I don't understand computers. But that doesn't matter because you all understand that I have good ideas and now we come to all those little bits of the technical. While you've been flimflamming around, we've been actually doing things."
"Hey," Alizarin says, "I got the Solar Cycle. And Taita's had a chance to guide me through some of the ID tagging things. We have access to the garage at least. And there we go. I'm helpful. More helpful than Violence."
"Oh, shut up. So that's what we do. Shell game. We slip someone in the back with the ID vehicle while the rest try and breach the front," Violence sighs, "Easy-peasy."
"We need to go one farther," I say, "One step isn't enough. We need more than one feint. Maybe even two. Feints on feints on feints. You said a shell game. We need more than two cups."
"The roof," Riot says, "That's one more. I can get one more up there and head down from there."
"And we keep switching the one we back," Sunday says, "Frontal assault, back door, and roof."
"I already gave you the interior and the security specs as current as can be. Doubt they changed much. There's no money for it."
