Soda and Weed

(Disclaimed.)

I was going to let that prologue sit there for a while, but this chapter was already pretty much written, and I could not sleep, so I just finished it up to post it.

Q: cheddarbiscuit, it seem like you have some sort of... Problem... with the game, and yet you're still writing fic for it. Why?

A: You're mistaken. The game was amusing. I friggen love it. But it has little to no replay value. The characters deserve better.

Chapter one:

London, England.

The Browns were waiting for a telegram.

The Browns were waiting for a telegram that would probably never come, by the looks of it. Edward sat down on the couch his elbow resting on the armrest and his chin resting on his hand. He drummed his fingers on his knee, and waited.

I wonder where Dad is. He thought for the umpteenth time that morning, but he could not answer that question. His Dad was rarely home. He could be gone for month on end, at least, staying as he walked towards the airship dock, 'Oh, I'm going to America for a while.' And then in a telegram a few weeks later he would tell them, 'I've heard of something on Ayer's rock I want to check out.' Then another telegram would arrive, 'I'll be in Siberia for a week or two, then I'm going to France maybe I'll pop by and take a breather.'

He never popped by for a breather.

Still, on and on the messages would go, and each time Eddie would walk over to a map and stick a pin on a giant map on his bedroom wall, tracking his father all over the world. He may never be home, but he did at least check in once every week or three. He had gone five weeks without a telegram now, he had never done that before. Never.

Eddie frowned. His Dad had missed a lot, because he liked adventuring. Sometimes, Eddie could not help but mutter to himself, He likes adventuring more than me. I think he likes even more than Mom.

But that hurt to say, so he did not. Every time he so much as thought it, he would change the subject as quickly as he could, and he would say, with just as much conviction, I don't need Dad here. I've gotten by jolly well without the old chap. Mum's enough for me. Mum's always been enough for me. It's not like I have to share her with brothers or sisters.

His frown deepened.

Of course, brothers and sisters would have been nice, too. That way, when he played pretend in Old Maid Beatrice's back yard, he would not feel so terribly lonely when he stepped back and seriously evaluated the reasons behind hunting for lost civilizations in her rosebushes. He gave an exasperated sigh and slouched on the couch, turning his head to his mother, who stood frozen, looking out the back window. She had always spared as much time as she could, but there were always her investments to look after. She did not work, after all, she invested her share the reward money, and investments had to be looked after, just like Old Maid Beatrice's back yard. When she was not giving him her undivided attention, she was given her stocks her undivided attention.

And now, her undivided attention was on their back balcony.

Eddie sighed again, slouching further on the couch, looking at the fire place, empty. It was the middle of summer, after all. A glass screen was over it, and he could see his reflection. He was blonde, blue eyed. Everyone insisted he looked like his father, but Eddie knew that was not true. His father had brown hair, and brown eyes. Eddie looked nothing like him. Nothing at all.

He got to his feet and paced the room, where portrait after portrait hung. He stopped in front of one of them. If he looked like anyone, it was his maternal grandfather. He had been a soft-spoken blonde man, but he had been an real-estate tycoon. Not the most glamorous profession. It was obvious who a young boy would rather be compared to, the dashing adventurer, his own father. He barely even remembered his mother's father, let alone wanted to be like him.

He continued pacing, and this time stopped in front of a family photograph. It took them hours to get his father to consent to sitting there for a photograph that only took a few seconds to take. He was such a restless man. It was worrisome.

He should be glad his Dad was gone so much, really. It made the times he was home more important.

The doors opened at that point, and both of them turned towards the door, expecting, or at least hoping, to see Gilbert standing there, dusty and victorious, rewards his in pockets and a smile on his face. Edward's heart knotted for a second.

It was just their butler.

"Madam, Mr. Evans is here to see you."

"I see." Margaret said stiffly, "Let him in."

With a curt nod, the butler turned around and came back with Jim Evans, Gilbert's friend and agent. He was a round man, with a wide girth and a reddened bulbous nose. He was forever flabbergasted; forever speaking in a rush, with a pair of tiny spectacles perched upon his nose, and they seemed to pop off when he was too excited, when seemed to happen quite a bit. He was intelligent, though and was capable of drawing sharp conclusions, with impeccable instinct and a vast memory for geographical and cultural knowledge.

"M-Margaret, s-something has happened to G-gilbert."

Eddie could feel the wave of shock spread through the room, but she held her head up high as she walked towards him. She showed no sign of panic as said, "Calm down, Mister Evans, and try to explain calmly—"

But Mister Evans could not explain calmly, "Well you see Margaret and American naval ship was in the mid-Atlantic—" rushed out from under his drooping mustache quickly, then his blue-grey eyes found Eddie and said just as quickly, "No, no I can't. Not in front of Eddie."

"Jim, please, Eddie is Gilbert's son."

He was not convinced.

"If something has happened to his father, he has a right to know."

"Quite right." Jim said, "Quite right."

"Now, please, tell me what happened."

Mister Evans took off his spectacles and cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from Eddie to Margaret. He clearly did not want to tell her in front of Eddie, but he did anyway, after taking a calming breath and cleaning his glasses, "An American naval ship was doing a routine training exercise in the mid-Atlantic." He repeated himself, "And they found the Maverick. They found his ship."

"I see. And they wired over to inform us that he will be in New York until he can return home?"

"Gilbert..." Again, Mister Evans looked warily at Eddie, "Gilbert was not on the ship."

His mother did not say a word. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, and she looked ready to faint. Before she did, she sat down on the couch, her knuckles white as they clenched in her lap. The only real sign of panic was her rapid breathing and pale face. Eddie knelt down in front of her, waiting for some order, either to stay or to leave. She eventually spoke up, "There was no sign of him?"

"None."

There was more silence.

It won't be so different without the old chap. Eddie told himself, You just won't get telegrams anymore, and he won't get reward money, but that won't be much of a setback, you'll see. Just stick a pin on your map every three weeks and you'll be fine.

"Was there any sort of clue as to what could have happened?"

"We—we don't know much." Mister Evans said, his eyes shifting from left to right. He fiddled with the chain of his pocket watch, "But it looked as if the ship were attacked. I'm afraid to say we can't determine who. We don't know where he was when he went missing, too, and the ship had obviously been drifting for days. I'm sorry, but—"

"Gilbert knows how to take care of himself." His mother's voice interrupted him, "We just have to find him."

"F-f-find him?" Mister Evans exclaimed. "It would take another adventurer, and you won't find one that will do it. Gilbert was the only one fool enough to travel the world, you know. There are sky pirates, and this new group he was investigating."

"New group?" Margaret asked, "Could they have had something to do with it?"

"I don't know, but they've been causing trouble everywhere. When rumor spreads that they captured or even... E-even killed Gilbert, no adventurer in their right mind would—"

"I say!" Eddie exclaimed suddenly, getting to his feet. "Why don't I go?"

His mother gasped and stood up, "No, Eddie—"

"He's my father. I'll go." Eddie replied, "What's wrong with a son wanting to look for his Father? Someone jolly well should!"

"Nothing, Edward, dear." His mother replied, "But this is suicide, your father very well could have been murdered, and you're so young, you—"

"You're Mother's right, Eddie, we should leave this to a Licensed Adventurer."

"Smashing idea, Evan old boy [1.]. I'll become an adventurer. Yeah, just like my Dad."

"Eddie... Do you really...?"

They stared at him, awestruck and bewildered, and it was Mister Evans that spoke up first, "How, how just like your father. One you get an idea in your head, it bloody well won't get out, will it? If you are so keen on questing, you need to go to the Adventurer's Association in the main part of town and register yourself, but you'll have a devil of a time doing it, I tell you. I'll help in whatever way I can when you get your license, but not a moment before."

"All right then!"

"Right then. I'd best be off."

And he was off, though the double doors and out into the world. After a brief nod good-bye to his mother, and after picking up his sword from his room, Eddie followed suit, walking down the peaceful cobblestone streets of the west end, and into the main part of London. The distinction between the old, aristocratic charm and modern English society was exiting and bracing. He paused just a moment to look around himself, the fountain in the square, the stately, white buildings.

He set on his way again, onto the Adventurer's Association's London headquarters, which was right behind the fountain and beside the museum. How hard could this be, right? Probably not too difficult, after all, the paperwork would be easy enough, and they could not send him outside of London for any tests—and there were always tests, something was reported stolen at least once a week, and fresh adventurers were always the type to bring it in, and even then, there were always sewer rats, which reproduced like wildfire and could never be wiped out. That was the old fall back.

He shuddered. He hated rats.

He stopped in front of the building. The arched entry way lead to a courtyard, and that courtyard lead to the door way, which was perched atop a series of stairs, and sitting at the top of those stairs and frowning slight was a girl in a bright red wheelchair.

"Carlos, where are you when I need you?" she grumbled to herself as Eddie walked up.

"Excuse me—"

"Yes?" she asked him. She had a slight German accent, and was very pale, as one would expect from a sickly girl, but she did not seem to frail or weak, she carried herself straight, despite her handicap, and the only reason he was certain she could not walk was because of the white woolen blanket securely wrapped around her legs. As she looked at him, she raised a hand to shield her light, clear eyes from the sun. Eddie was confused for a moment. Was she an... Adventurer? They let anyone join, didn't they?

She stared intently at him, a little puzzled frown on her face.

"Can I help you?"

He had meant 'Can I help you get down the stairs?' but that was obvious not what she had though, because she said instead: "What?" as she seemed to shake herself from a dream, "Oh, sorry, you looked so familiar, have we met?"

"No." Eddie replied, "I'm afraid we have not."

"Ah well." She shrugged, then she dropped her hand to the wheels of her chair, "You can help me get down these stairs." She said, "Or is that too small a task for an adventurer like you?"

"No. I'll help." He offered easily, "But, how exactly?"

"Just keep me from falling over, thank you." She said, and then she nudged the wheels forward, dropping down step after step, awkwardly, but without a hint of worry on her face, until he had to catch the chair and forcibly stop it, otherwise, she would have run him over.

"They really should make you a ramp or something." He commented as he straightened out his coat. She reached down and tucked the blanket back around her legs, then adjusted her shawl as she sat up again. She was wearing a cream-colored silk blouse underneath, with a blue scarf tied around her neck, pinned in place with a white brooch. Quite expensive tastes for a girl that had probably lost a battle against polio.

"No, I don't leave often." She told him, "And I don't return often."

"Ah?"

"Anyway." She said briskly, "I would wish you luck but I can already see you will find what you are looking for. See you."

And then she was gone, bouncing down the three steps that lead to London's streets just as awkwardly as she had the first ones, leaving Eddie to wonder how she managed to get up without someone's help, but instead he told the air, "What an odd girl."

Then he shrugged, climbed the stairs, and entered the cool, dark headquarters, ready for at least an hour of paperwork before he had to head into the sewers. The clerk was a plump young woman, with light brown hair and green tint to her eyes, and she appeared to be somewhat bored, and even the book in front of her could not help her. When Eddie walked up to her, she raised a thin eyebrow and seemed to be torn between two very boring things. She asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I would like to become and adventurer."

"Oh. Sure." She straightened up a bit, and reached for a small notecard, "Well, to start with, I'll need your name and address, and your birthday; it doesn't even have to be your real birthday."

"R-really?"

"No." she said sarcastically, "Most boys your age are working in factories, and our organization thinks that adventuring is just as dangerous."

"Pardon?"

"Hey, you could be un-employed." she said, then she peered over the counter to look him over, and said, unimpressed, "Oh, you're rich. Figures."

And then she went back to ignoring him.

It was quite a marvel she still was, Eddie thought to himself as he moved down the counter, and filled out the notecard. Name, Edward Johan Brown. Male. London, England. Age, 16. Birthday May 30 th, 1855. Height, 5"2'. Hair, blonde. Eyes, blue. Weight, 104. Skill: Swordplay.

Then, wondering what her reaction would be, he handed her the card back. She looked at him, then at the card, "You're not one hundred and four. I'm five two and I'm one twenty. Men are supposed to be heavier. You're not one hundred and four pounds."

Eddie did not say a word. She tucked the card away with the other 'B' surnames and looked him square in the eye, "Now, you go into London sewers, and you kill rats."

"Okay."

"And don't just walk to the bar, get a few drinks, and come back. You need proof that you've killed rats. You bring back their tails."

"That totally barbaric!"

"Hey, I asked the last quy for their heads. I want to collect the little skulls and decorate my desk. He never came back."

"Okay." Eddie held up his hands, "Okay! I'll bring the tails."

"Good." She slapped a cloth sack in front of them, "Bring them in this."

"Alright."

"And be sure to stock up on items first, so you don't wind up missing like the last guy."

"Fair enough."

"And be sure someone knows where you are."

Before he could thing, No, Eddie, you little blighter! You'll leave you're self wide open for mocking! He told her, "My Mum—"

"Awww!" He felt his face grow red under her teasing, "How cute!"

"Anyway. How many do I need to kill."

"All of them." She informed him, making quotation marks with her fingers, "As many as you see."

"Okay."

"So?" she asked cheekily, "You ready?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Congratulations!" the clerk smiled. She slapped a small leather book and fountain pen in front of him, "Here's your adventurer's notebook."

Eddie looked at the small red volume, then back at the clerk, who smiled just as brightly.

"You... You spelled Adventurer wrong. [2.]"

"And you should be working in the coal mines with all the other little boys."

1. it's the 1900's, he's British. He's talking like that.

2. in-game design flaw.

I've never written a purely humor fic before. I think it my inner angst habit showed there for a bit at the beginning, and my inexperience showed at the end. I think it is nice to use this just to unwind a bit. Maybe I'll get serious later. Dunno.