Yeah, I don't own it. Quicker update this time, but I was at school at 6:30 am and I thought, what can I do? I know, write some Making Fiends fic!

VI

Stage One: Gain her Trust

They found themselves in a pleasant-looking tavern downtown, where Marvin ordered them mint juleps and set to work charming Charlotte. Everything he did reminded him of his mission- when buying the drinks, it would have been so easy, he thought, to slip something deadly into her glass- but then Marvin didn't have any poisons on him, and there were too many witnesses. Best stick with the original plan- gain her trust, get close, then finish her off.

'So, what is your name?' Charlotte asked, her wide eyes on him as he sat down opposite her.

'My name- is Marvin,' he stated, noticing as he did so that his former habit of beginning his sentences with a possessive phrase had returned- something that now usually only happened when he was nervous. Charlotte didn't seem to notice, though.

'That's a pretty name! Where do you come from? Are you gunna stay for a long time? What-'

'Hey, hey, slow down,' Marvin laughed, enjoying her company without intending to. 'One at a time! I can't answer all those at once!' he paused, thinking. What was he supposed to tell her? He'd already given his real name- again- something, now he came to think about it, he really shouldn't have done- but that meant nothing when she was….he gulped….dead. But what else was he at liberty to divulge? He supposed the best thing to do was stick to the story he'd told Maggie- that he was a tax man.

'Uh, I come from, er, Clamburg…' he cursed inwardly, but Clamburg was huge, that didn't necessarily mean she'd guess he was part of the mafia, 'and I, uh, I came down here, just for a month, to collect taxes.'

'Ooh, taxes!' Charlotte, to his surprise, seemed genuinely interested and listened intently as he struggled to come up with a few more details.

'Maybe you should do my tax,' she said when he finished, 'that would be so much fun!'

'Er…' Marvin began, but as he opened his mouth to speak he realised the possibilities. Going to 'do her tax' as the blue girl put it might give him a better opportunity to get her alone and finish the job…

'Clamburg?' Charlotte said suddenly. The pair had finished their drinks and were headed for the door. 'I have a friend who lives in Clamburg! Her name's Vendetta and she's so nice!'

Marvin's throat went dry.

Vendetta? Nice?

Mort was going to return to an empty room.

Malachi sighed as he packed his case, looking across at Marvin's bed. It was a no-win situation. Either Marvin would have to take a life, or he would have to not only commit murder, but see to the demise of one of his best friends ,too. But what was the alternative? Gruesome death at the hands of one of Vendetta's fiends? It was too horrible to contemplate.

The purple gangster wasn't needed at the scene for another month yet, but at Vendetta's suggestion (and it was best not to ignore those, for when the fiendmaker said 'suggestion' she really meant 'order') he was heading out to Tinspit tonight to check on Marvin's progress and to gather various pieces of information on this girl Vendetta wanted finished. Marvin, he was told, already had all the info he would need, and a readthrough of this would suffice, she was not feeling generous enough to make two copies.

Malachi slid his Bible into the suitcase and did it up. Sighing once more, he took a last look at his room and headed outside. The weather was getting colder, the sun already low in the azure sky and orangeish leaves falling from the trees and skittering along the pavements. Malachi ducked into an alleyway as someone walked past, trying to conceal his presence and the existence of Vendetta's 'business'. As far as the town knew, the apartment building where his boss conducted her operations was vacant, and always would be. Rumours went round that it was haunted, and in all honesty, it was better things stayed that way. If they ever knew the truth…well, it didn't bear thinking about.

Malachi made it down to the station without being spotted, and boarded the next train. He had a while to wait before he reached his destination, so he took out his Bible and tried to find solace in its pages.

By the time Marvin returned to the Tinspit Hotel, it was dark and he was exhausted and overwhelmed. After their date, he had spent a further four hours with Charlotte, as she showed him around town, paying unnaturally close attention to every 'pretty, pretty feature, and they had ended their tour at what Charlotte called the 'Old Mayor's Place'- a spacious-looking house up for rent. As he chatted with the blue girl, she constantly pointed out how convenient it would be if he were to take the lease, as he could remain in Clamburg the whole time he was 'doing his tax rounds'.

To this, Marvin had replied he would think about it, and left it at that, but he noted with a mix or pride and sadness that Charlotte gave her trust away too easily. She had only met him this afternoon, and already he knew almost her whole life story. The green-blue boy was sure at one point she'd added the phrase 'now you're my boyfriend,' to the mix, and this, while ensuring he'd get to see a lot more of her, could be potentially problematic. From what Marvin could see, Charlotte was perfectly happy to tell anyone anything- the very reason why Vendetta's organisation would go under if she wasn't destroyed soon- and with her big mouth soon the whole town would recognise him, and it would be harder for him to carry out the deed without someone suspecting him.

He ran a hand through his hair. This was very tricky.

'You're back.' Maggie looked up from her desk as he walked through the foyer. 'You look like hell. Wanna drink?

Marvin accepted gratefully and allowed his hostess to lead him to the bar. Even after one day he could notice her warming to him- and was that almost a pleasant expression? Did she consider him a friend?

How many people were going to get hurt in this mission? He knew Maggie would not be happy when he up and left, and when she found out the true purpose of his quest…

'Rough day, huh?' the dark blue girl slid a glass of whisky across the bar and he downed it instantly. 'I know the feeling,' she went on, not allowing him a chance to reply, 'this dump might seem empty now, but on bank holidays it fills up like you wouldn't believe. Bankers, merchants, ordinary idiots, everyone heads up to Clamburg or down to Clamburg South to see their families, and I get stuck with their whining…' she stopped her rant to swallow her whisky, 'Like I said, you're not the only one who has it tough. So what, you collect a lotta tax?'

'Er….'Marvin began, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell at the front desk. Maggie hastily stood up and moved to answer it.

'We're closed,' Marvin heard her say from reception, and then another voice sounded, speaking low and fast, so he couldn't make out what it was saying.

'Oh, sure,' Maggie said, 'He's right in here…Marvin!' her head stuck round the door, 'some guy here to see you…'

That didn't sound good. Anyone out looking for him was trouble- likely one of Vendetta's goons, and he shuddered at the thought, stepping tentatively into the foyer. He braced himself…

'Malachi!' The blue-green hit man found himself bowled-over with surprise. 'My, uh, what…'

'Take heed, Marvin,' his friend said, 'I hast traversed to thine abode to warn thee of a situation most unholy…' both sets of eyes darted involuntarily towards Maggie.

'Er, perhaps we should talk about this upstairs,' Marvin said, 'My room! Is the first one on the left.'

Malachi nodded. 'A veritable suggestion. And good morrow to thee, maiden,' he said, tipping his hat to Maggie before turning and heading toward the stairs. As Marvin made to join them, he could have sworn he saw Maggie smile- a proper smile.

Mort had spent all day with Marion, trying as hard as he might to put off the inevitable, but his girlfriend had noticed even from the beginning that something was wrong. Now, back in Marion's dressing room after her last show of the evening, he knew his time was up. He had vowed to end it with her today, and the minutes of today were running out.

Mort realised his glasses were steaming up as he took a good long look at the girl he loved. He didn't want to lose her! But Malachi was right- it was far better to lose her as a girlfriend than to lose her altogether- to have her subject to the mercy of Vendetta and the fiends. No, he had to do it, for her sake.

He steeled himself and cleared his throat. 'Marion?'

'Uh huh?' she looked up, surprised at his expression. 'What's wrong, Mort?'

'I think we should break up.'

Yeah I didn't actually get round to much Marion/Mort this time around, but I've left it at a bit of a cliffie...I'll pick up the next chapter with where they left off. Not the best chap, I know, but I'm tired.