Disclaimer: I own nothing concerning the MMORPG Maplestory, which belongs to Nexon / Wizet / Whoever owns Maplestory at the moment. I own only the rather inane idea of this fanfic. Max and Rae are mine too. ;)

I claim no rights, okay?

A/N: I maintain that I was delusional when I typed this and do not believe this is in anyway humorous. Which defeats the whole purpose of it's existence. In other words: epic phail. Anyway, tell me if you think I should leave or dump this. Not an invite for flaming. I have emotions too, y'know. D; Maybe my brand of humour is just different from yours. Yes, it's just another dumb excuse to cover up my lack of talent. ;p

Also, I don't ks f/ps, or own a 'sin that is capable of doing so. I don't experience a rush if I kill-steal (accidentally! I'm not some jerk. ) so… yeah. Just proving my innocence here.

I was gonna end it with wraiths plotting revenge and massacring the 'jolly' town of Henesys, but meh.

So sorry if you found it disappointing that you missed the chance to see Max feel up a wraith. Rae certainly does not share the same sentiments, and wishes to convey that if you request it, you will experience massive amounts of pain.

On with the story.

Wraiths.

Innocent creatures, lurking in the subway and terrorizing people like it was nobody's business. Fire mages kill them for the prized red whip drop; fanatical clerics claimed that they were 'purifying' their poor, god-forsaken, undead souls.

Me?

I kill them 'cause I enjoy kill-stealing the fire mages.

I just get a kick out of ksing them and their flaming arrows out of the map. When people say 'sins have a tendency to kill-steal everything and everyone, they're kind of right. I mean, with all that power we get… You just have to abuse and exploit it in all the right ways.

The irony is that I met my best friend, Max, when we totally owned a helpless fire mage. He was what we called a 'noob' back then (to me anyway) - a level 49 bandit with a worn Korean Fan. Anyway, I remember that the mage in question ran off bawling, us driving a horde of wraiths towards him.

In retrospect, it was one of the funniest days of my twisted life.

Yeah, Max is a regular riot. He's pretty powerful, he has an inexhaustible mesos bank account, and he's smart. But there's a downside.

Max… well. He isn't exactly what you'd call normal. Sure, he eats, he sleeps, he breathes and all that pizzazz, but seriously. I think he was dropped on a metal brick when he was little. That, or he has a lopsided brain or something.

You'll see why soon. The opportunity to see Max behaving like an abnormal human presents itself every other second.

Thunk.

I sprang up at the sound and hit my head forcefully on the underside of the top bunk bed of the Kerning Motel. Pain blossomed and spread across my head. To sum it all up:

It hurt like hell.

I spun around to glare at Max, who had undoubtedly made the noise. He shrugged, as if to say 'who, me?' and I groaned, leaning back on my bottom bunk. Years of Max-ness had taught me an extremely important fact of life:

Don't argue with idiots. Somehow, they always win.

Not even bothering to get up and starting my day with a highly nutritional breakfast of an orange potion, I started to doze off again.

Fwap.

'Holy Mushmom, can you stop that?' I growled, not happy at being woken up by strange and slightly disturbing sounds.

Max wordlessly pointed to a certain shiny object lying beside me. I picked it up gingerly as if it was some godlike object I dared not touch. Even though it wasn't, y'know.

Another frickin' ilbi to add to my impressive and vast collection of pointy objects.

If you're asking 'what's the catch?' you're one of the very few remaining people with precious little sanity left. Welcome to the ex-freakin-clusive club. Max tapped his foot, awaiting some form of response. I reluctantly tore my gaze from the shiny, brand-spankin' new projectile and focused on him.

'Your offering pleases Rae,' I told him grudgingly. 'Now what the hell do you want?'

He tilted his head to one side, a smirk on his pretty-boy face.

'Let me put it this way… Ever wondered what was under a wraith's cloak?'

My eyes widened and I involuntarily clutched onto the ilbi tighter. Bad move.

'Holy sh- ow, ow, ow, ow, owwwww. Crap, crap, crap, crap.'

I shot Max the Killer look. Couldn't he see I was bleeding to death here? But no, the resident idiot of Maple World was currently observing the sight of my blood dripping onto the free courtesy-of-the-management fluffy white carpet. Delightful view, I'm sure.

'It's going to take a miracle to get the stains outta that carpet.'

A bandage and a couple of laughs from a passing gang of clerics later, we found ourselves at the entrance of the subway.

We, as in one extremely pissed off Rae and one hyperactive Max, carrying a bunch of papers badly tied up with a mangled red ribbon from a ribbon pig.

'Okay, here's the plan.'

He pointed out the finer points of his 'master plan', spread out across all of 10 pages, with flippin' pictures, labeled diagrams and all.

Here's an easier way to understand it:

Rae catch wraith, Max lift up cloth. Then run like hell, 'cause it isn't gonna be pretty.

Unfortunately, the crude drawing of me hugging what I presumed was the undead monster and Max peeking under made me spit out what was serving as my breakfast- an orange potion. Anyone up for a Rae Delight? A delectable concoction of orange potion and saliva, drink within 5 days of opening. It'd be a huge hit, huh? But my unusual choice of projectile hit the target head on. The target being Max's face.

Which lost many of it's pretty-boy qualities.

Needless to say, I burst out laughing.

After Max had darted into the nearest washroom, we headed through the subway in silence, my racous laughter occasionally disturbing the eerie peace. That, and Max's complaints of 'it wasn't that funny'.

If you're thinking that everything's all simple and nothing can go wrong… Well.

No.

Just no.

'Cause this is a Max and Rae operation, and nothing we do ever turns out to be simple, or turn out halfway right.

Trust me on this- if I had a meso for every time a hairbrained scheme failed...

Lets just say I would be an extremely rich assassin.

'Quit killing the wraiths, Rae.'

I glared at him, not caring if he called me Medusa or something equally Max-like. We'd been at it for the past two hours or so, and we had as much chance of achieving his goal as the magicians of Ellinia had of forcing neon pink Y-fronts on Grendel's head and making him dance the damn Can-Can.

'Do I look as if I'm trying to kill the bastards?' I roared in frustration as I accidentally stabbed yet another wraith to its mysterious death, leaving a neatly folded table cloth behind.

'Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!'

'You do look as if you're on a wraith-murdering rampage, actually.'

5 hours later.

'The tablecloth tribe shall live with their secret for yet another day!' Max pointed dramatically at yet another aimless floating wraith. I stared at him incredulously.

'Are you serious? Does the Almighty Max finally understand the true meaning of 'give the hell up'?' I snickered. 'Does the law of 'persevere until you manage to annoy everyone' detach itself from your godlike pebble of a brain?'

I got up and chucked a couple of stars- hwabis, naturally- at the mysterious inhabitants of that dang white cloth on the off chance that it might drop the coveted red whip. They earned a pretty penny.

'Wait, I got an idea.'

Oh god, no. Not another idea.

Why the heck is he my best friend?

Henesys.

'I have to admit,' I grinned, flapping my tablecloth arms at yet another freckle-faced Henesys kid. 'This isn't such a bad idea.'

I was referring to the fact that I was currently chasing the younger inhabitants of Henesys, namely little kids bored out of their minds on a Saturday night. Heh, I think one peed his pants. Makes me laugh when they ran off screaming, and makes me laugh even harder that they were actually scared. I don't ever remember being scared of people wearing white tablecloths. I'd just refer them to the Niora hospital. But I was happy.

Yes, scaring the pants off young archer-to-bes made my day. Shut up, I know for a fact that I'm saner than anyone else here.

'Hey, Rae?'

I did not like that tone. I did not like that questioning tone. It meant I would probably be receiving some kind of expensive gift, then be dragged off to help him with some… 'experiments'.

'What?'

'You know the slime sweets? The ones dropped by the monsters on Halloween?' He received a 100% blank and non-comprehending stare. He sighed at my apparent lack of intelligence.

Max dug into his backpack, rummaging around for god-knows-what. Rolling my eyes, I continued chasing the little kids, occasionally going into dark-sight and whispering into a kid's ear that I was gonna 'get you'.

'Rae, they're like these.'

He proudly presented me with several gummy slimes protectively clutched in his tablecloth-clad hand that I recognized from Prendergast's Haunted Mansion. However, I still had no idea how they applied to me.

'Uh-huh. And..?'

He smiled sheepishly.

'Well, the green gummies taste like lime… So I was wondering if the real-life slimes would taste like-'

Oh. I could see where this conversation was going.

And I didn't like it one bit.

'No.'

'But-'

'Shut up if you like your limbs where they are.' I snarled.

'Sheesh, I was just saying that I had an extra godly-scrolled 15 Attack Work Glove on my hands…'

I whipped around, a smirk on my face.

'Now, that makes things a little bit different…'

I admit that the idea isn't very original. Even after re-editing it more than ten times, I still don't believe it scrapes the line at 'okay'. Well, it's the best I kind do at the moment which says something about my ability to function at 22:03, but please review.

And err, I might continue this after I rewrite it.