Prince Finn-Ice dashed back and forth through the room frantically, grabbing blankets, pillows, and the occasional sock or pair of pants, piling them carefully on and around his bed.
The New Puppy stood watching him from the cage. "What in the blazes are you even doin'?"
Finn-Ice poked his head out of the pile. "Well, Simon's taking longer than usual, so I'm gonna make a blanket fort to hide in. Then, when he comes sneaking in, I'll jump out and punch him in all his places!" he replied cheerfully. "THEN we'll see who's got the element of surprise!"
New Puppy raised an eyebrow. Although it was hard to tell with that big hat in the way. "Didn't realize you two played so rough all the time..."
"Oh, yeah!" Finn-Ice replied, carefully stacking pillows into a fort wall. Of course he and Simon fought a bunch! Simon was just so jealous and totally in awe of his majesty that it was no wonder he felt the need to challenge him by "liberating" all the awesome dogs he found and rescued from boring lives with boring owners. Hopefully, one day he'd see that it was a much better idea to become his dog-kidnapping minion and join forces, but that day had yet to come.
"It's kind of a pain in the butt sometimes, but I gotta keep my totally buff physique in shape somehow!" He continued, flexing his muscles where the New Puppy could see them. There was no reaction, or at least none he could see. Finn-Ice made a mental note to confiscate that hat after Simon was dealt with so he could make proper eye contact with him for training. Eye contact during training was important!
"...I see. Well, from where I'm standin', if you don't mind me saying, you don't benefit any from this arrangement other than a bit of exercise."
"Well, duh!" Finn-Ice exclaimed, climbing into the half-finished pillow fort and continuing his construction efforts. "But that's cool, Simon makes for a super-algebraic sparring buddy. Or a alge-buddy, even." Finn-Ice giggled at his own pun, reaching over a half-formed pillow wall for more building material. "Besides, how else am I supposed to get stronger? I mean, sure, I could just go fight random people, but Simon comes right into the castle to fight me!"
"Yeah, but what happens after you get strong enough to beat him?" New Puppy continued. "Does he keep trying to fight you or what?"
Finn-Ice, now fully walled into his fort, poked a slot in the wall for his eyes and rolled them at the New Puppy. "Hecks no! That's when me and my awesome dog-kidnapping minion roam the land and collect all the puppies in Uuu! It's gonna be slamacow-frostyriffic!" He was getting kinda tired of all these questions with obvious answers, if he had to be honest, but he supposed that whoever had owned the puppy before him hadn't taught him about obvious things like this. "Now shush, boy! I need to remain focused and vigilant, or Simon might beat me up, then drag you out of that cage and back to that gross junkyard your old owner had you guarding!"
O'Malley bristled at this. He was tired of a lot of things this unpleasant incident had thrown his way, and the frosty moron entombed in pillows repeatedly assuming he was a dumb animal was one of the greater peeves. "For your information, your highness, I'm mayor of that "gross junkyard", and I'd rather be back there than rottin' away in this glob-forsaken cage any day of the week! An' as for that weaselly "dog-kidnapping minion" of yours-"
A loud snoring noise from the pillow fort interrupted O'Malley's rant. He growled in anger, thinking the Prince to be mocking his frustration. After a moment, however, he realized Finn-Ice really was asleep, lulled to slumber by the cosy walls of his impenetrable fortress.
"Focused and vigilant, huh." O'Malley huffed as he sank into a sitting position. "Although I suppose I can't blame ya- that boy's takin' his sweet time to show his face. Maybe with a little luck, he'll have been eaten by some ice monster or somethin'..."
"OH YEAH, IN YOUR STUPID FACE! NOT SO BIG WHEN YOU'RE MELTING ALL OVER THE FLOOR, HUH?"
Finn watched as Simon repeatedly kicked the pile of slush and scattered ice scales that had once been a massive snow-cobra. "Dude, it's dead. You don't need to rub it in."
"Yeah, well, you haven't been chased by this thing every other time you've been here." Simon said, giving the slush pile one final kick before turning his attention elsewhere. "You're right, though. Gloating over finally kicking that monster snow-cobra's butt can come later. For now, we've gotta focus on why we're here. Where's my bag?"
"Uhh..." Finn scanned the area, then pointed to a familiar chunk of ice, half-buried in slush. "Over there!" He pointed as he ran over to the spot, Simon close behind. "It's still stuck in the ice, though... can't we just leave it in there?"
"Normally, I'd say yes, but I kinda stuffed my lockpicks in there when that thing showed up. Didn't have enough time to put them back in my waistcoat... plus, my nunchucks are in there too, and I don't really wanna face Finn-Ice unarmed, even with someone else there," Simon replied, kneeling by his frozen bag. "Maybe if we look for somewhere high up, we can drop it and let the fall shatter-WOAH MOMMA!" Simon leapt back as Finn struck the chunk of ice hard with the hilt of his sword, large cracks spreading from the point of impact. "...Ok, sure, that works too. Warn me before you do it next time, though!"
"Sure," Finn said, forcefully striking the block again. With a loud snap-crunch, the ice block broke in two, freeing the bag.
Simon stepped forward again, kneeling and inspecting the contents of his bag. After a moment of rummaging, however, his face fell. "Ohhhh boy." He pulled out his lockpick wallet, now looking worryingly frosty and battered. As he opened it, shattered shards of metal fell to the ground.
"Uh oh." Finn winced. "I'm sorry, dude, I must've hit it too hard. I guess we should've found somewhere to toss it from after all-"
Simon sighed, picking through the remnants. "It's fine... besides, your way probably had less likelihood of this happening than my idea. And we're not entirely out of luck-" Simon held up two intact picks and one with half a handle. "- I've still got a couple left. Plus, it looks like all of my tension wrenches are okay. As long as I'm careful with the cage door, we're still good!" He re-shouldered his bag and stood, tucking the heavily-reduced lockpick wallet back into his waistcoat. "Let's get this over with. You don't mind taking on your negaverse doppelganger while I deal with the cage door, right?"
Finn raised his fists excitedly in the air, grinning from ear to ear. Finally, he was going to meet his frosty double! "I am so pumped for this mirror match!"
"I should probably give you some tips on fighting him, though, just in case." Simon said, the two walking back down the ice corridor they knew to lead to Finn-Ice's main chambers. "First off: kicking him in the ankle works pretty well if you want a few free hits in, but he'll come back even angrier once the pain wears off. Secondly, watch out for that right arm of his. It's made of ice, its reach is farther than you think, and DO NOT LET HIM GRAB YOU WITH IT. He's got a grip like a freakin' clay golem on that hand." Simon made grabby motions with his right hand for emphasis.
Finn nodded. "Fair enough. Got anything else for me?"
"Kind of, but you might know about this one - I've noticed that when he's charging up an ice-lightning attack, you can kinda feel it in the air just before he actually fires it off... that way you know how to dodge when he starts gettin' all zappy."
"Yeah, I noticed that one. Took me a while, though… I still can't dodge every one of them, either," Finn replied, a bit quieter as they approached the entrance to Finn-Ice's chambers. "Anything else?"
"Nothing that you don't probably already know, really." Simon said, similarly lowering his voice as he and Finn peeked over the side of the doorway. "I figure you've been fighting alternate-me long enough to know things like 'knock the crown off' and other basic stuff like that."
"Haha, yeah." Finn chuckled. "Can you see him?"
Simon scanned the area, his eyes falling on the bed. "I don't think so. Unless he's under that pile of gross old blankets and underwear on his bed."
"Maybe he's in the middle of a laundry run?" Finn whispered. He couldn't think of any other reason for a pile of socks and bedsheets to be piled haphazardly onto a bed.
"Why would he make a laundry run when he probably knows we're..." Simon paused, thinking over past experiences. "... Actually, okay, yeah, that's way too possible. He's made worse decisions before." Still not taking chances, he edged into the room carefully, picking his way through wayward socks and scattered papers. Finn followed close behind.
O'Malley didn't rise from his position slouched against the wall as the two approached the cage, choosing instead to glower at them. "Oh, I take it this is the 'rescue mission'? Don't think I don't know what you're up to, son!"
"What, you'd rather be paper-trained by Finn-Ice?" Simon hissed, sizing up the new lock on the door. The basic shape didn't seem all that exciting, but Simon had enough experience to know he'd never seen a lock quite like it before. If it had been any other rescue, and he'd had a full set of lockpicks to expend, he'd probably have thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. The way things were, however, it was probably just going to be kind of a pain in the butt to pick successfuly. "Or did you plan on escaping on your own?"
"Better than being fake-rescued by the Ice Prince's crony." O'Malley snapped back, not bothering to lower his voice. "An' speak of the devil, why's he back in his stupid human disguise?" He jabbed a claw at Finn as he spoke.
Simon glanced away from the door's lock and back at O'Malley, fixing him with a baffled stare. "Okay, what?!"
"Don't play stupid with me, he all but told me everything about the little fake hero scheme you've got goin' on here. What, was it too hard for you to go out and actually save people?!"
"Back up a bit, dude," Finn interrupted. "What do you mean, human disguise? I always look like this!"
"Well, you sure were taller and bluer a few minutes ago, so forgive me if I don't believe you." O'Malley huffed.
"Okay, okay, wait," Simon interrupted. Had O'Malley seriously come to the conclusion that he and Finn-Ice were doing some sort of dog-kidnapping scheme together? Not that Finn-Ice hadn't tried making Simon and Gunter into his dog-kidnapping minions on several occasions in the past, but they'd never went along with it. "Just to clarify, Finn isn't the same guy as Prince Finn-Ice. Sort of. He's a version of him from an alternate universe, see, where-"
"BULL-HONKEY!" O'Malley yelled, finally getting to his feet and stomping over to the bars. "What kind of fool do you take me for?! 'Alternate universe'? Pfshh, like I'd really believe there are really two..."O'Malley paused mid-sentence, his eyes flicking between Finn and a point behind the two boys momentarily. "...Okay. Now I'm more inclined to believe you boys."
Finn and Simon turned around.
Behind them, Prince Finn-Ice stood, frozen in mid-sneaking pose, a sock sticking to his sleeve and a pillowcase stuck on one of the points of his crown.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
"Oh, what the HECK, puppy?!" Finn-Ice was the first to speak, folding his arms and glowering at O'Mallley. "I was THIS CLOSE to finally managing to turn the tables on that sneaky butt and you ratted me out! You're so not getting any choccy treats, miste-" The frosty royal was interrupted by a fist to the face, knocking him several steps back.
"DOGS CAN'T EAT CHOCOLATE!" Finn thundered, pointing at the Ice Prince in dramatic fashion.
"It's not real chocolate!" Finn-Ice retorted, rubbing his bruised nose. "It's just some gross waxy stuff that kind of tastes like choco- wait. You look familiar." He squinted at Finn, tapping at his chin with a finger of ice. "Did we meet that one time Simon and Gunter watched my homemade tv show collection?"
"I'm you from another dimension - one where you're not such a donk!" Finn raised his fists in a fighting stance, ready to take his doppelganger on. He couldn't say he hadn't sort of anticipated his alternate-universe self to be so... Ice Kingy, but he'd at least hoped alternate-him would at least have been less of a letdown than the giggling, wide-eyed maniac standing before him.
"Really?..." Finn-Ice looked over at Simon, a semi-hurt expression on his face. "Dude, you swapped me out for a younger, dorkier model of me? Really?"
Simon shrugged, but didn't turn away from the cage's lock again. "Age doesn't have anything to do with it, bro. Now the fact he hasn't tried to make me steal any dogs or bombarded me with terrible puns, THAT might have something to do with it..."
"But my puns are super cool!" Finn-Ice looked positively offended.
Simon, on the other hand, shut his eyes momentarily and groaned, looking positively nauseated at the flagrantly unnecessary ice pun. "Finn, when you two start fighting, punch him once from me for that pun. And can I borrow that little flashlight of yours?"
"Oh come on, if he's really another version of me, he'll find my puns chillingly good too, right?" Finn-Ice retorted, shooting Finn his winningest, razor-sharp-with-missing-gaps smile. "Am I right or what, Less Awesome Me?" Finn gave Finn-Ice a look of utmost disappointment as he passed his mini-torch over, causing Simon to wonder if there was a specific term for feeling second-hand embarrassment over yourself from an alternate universe. If there is, it'd probably describe how Finn is feeling right now...
"Dude, no. Not only are you overusing those puns, but they're just... they're not even very good." Finn shrugged.
Immediately, Finn-Ice's hands crackled with magical energy, bathing him in a frigid blue light. "HOW DARE YOOOOOU!" he shrieked, flinging ice magic at Finn, who saw it coming and ducked, dodging it just in time. Not wasting time, he lunged forward and kicked the Ice Prince in the chest. Briefly reeling from the blow, Finn-Ice recovered just in time to block a second kick with his ice arm, which he then used to grab out at Finn, narrowly missing.
As the two Finns fought on, Simon turned his attention back to the task at hand, looking over his remaining tools. O'Malley glanced over, lip curling slightly. "Jeez, kid, that's really all the picks you brought with you!?"
Simon didn't look up from the lock, shining Finn's mini-torch inside the keyhole and onto the lock from the side, in an attempt to get an idea of what he was up against. The ice it was made of, however, was too opaque to see much of anything through. "Heck no! The rest of them got smashed to splinters on the way here." He said, noticing some scratch marks around the keyhole. "You tried to pick this before me, right?"
"Yeah, but it's got some sort of magic timer on it that fills the cell up with ice when it runs out," O'Malley replied. "It'll give you about three minutes, but even without the finger-numbin' cold that builds up in here, I ain't fast enough for that… Oh, and I'm pretty sure there's some kinda security pin about five pins in."
Three minutes… Okay, no problem. Simon thought, inserting the appropriate tension wrench. In truth, he wasn't feeling entirely confident - most of his normal tool cascade had been shattered - but he wasn't about to let O'Malley know that, nor was he about to leave O'Malley trapped in Finn-Ice's castle where he could manipulate the Ice Prince into doing terrible things. He was pretty sure a manchild ice wizard with reasonable combat skills would be capable of a lot more criminal activity than a curious six-year-old with agile hands.
As he started picking with the rake, Simon noticed the lock had begun to glow with a faint blue light. Timer's started, I guess...
Behind Simon, Finn-Ice yelped in shock as he narrowly dodged a blow from the sword weilded by the shorter, less frozen him. Despite his best efforts to avoid the blade entirely, an inch and a half of his bangs fluttered, severed, to the floor like snow. "NO FAIR! Swords are cheating, man!" Simon never used swords against Finn-Ice! Sure, he used a lot of nunchucks, since that was what he was good at using, but still!
"What?! Don't be a baby!" Finn scoffed, still looking for an opening to swat Finn-Ice's crown off. "Can't you just, like, make an ice sword of your own or somethi-"
Finn had been focused just enough on the crown and Finn-Ice's head that he didn't see Finn-Ice grab the blade of his sword until it was too late, frost covering the blade as the fingers stuck to it like someone's tongue to a metal pole in December. Finn briefly felt the cold from the action spread through his hand before the sword was ripped from his grasp with insane amounts of force.
"Oooh, is that demonsblood? Swaaag!" Finn-Ice said, admiring the blade briefly before pulling it off his icy fingers and unceremoniously tossing it well out of Finn's reach. "Anyway, nuh-uh, mister, if Simon doesn't get to use big ol' swords, then I don't see why you get t-"
Finn darted forward, sliding on the icy floor like he'd done it many times before (he had, it was a very useful move to know when fighting Ice Royals) and slammed his heel right into Finn-Ice's ankle.
As Finn-Ice howled in anguish and hopped around, Finn taking potshots at him with his fists as he did so, Simon hissed in irritation as the plug of the lock nudged along slightly, taking him off-guard and causing the head of his already-brittle S rake to snap off. "Dangit!"
"I told ya there was a trick pin in there, donkus." O'Malley snapped through chattering teeth. A thick layer of frost was gathering on the walls of the cell, the enchantment evidently gearing up for ice-blocking the entire area.
"Yeah, I know! I was just expecting a serrated pin from Finn-Ice, not a spool pin." Inwardly, Simon kicked himself violently. Spool pins were a lot easier than serrated pins, and the embarrassment he felt over losing a pick to one wasn't helping his nerves. Perhaps that was the point of Finn-Ice including that type of pin in his new lock, to catch him off-guard? "Look on the bright side, though," Simon continued as he inserted his half-diamond pick into the lock, "Spool pins are usually some of the last pins to set, right? So I should be almost done he-"
An unearthly shriek of rage tore itself from Finn-Ice's throat, cutting Simon off. The frosty monarch, still slightly limping from the kick to his ankle, conjured a huge block of ice from the air and hurled it violently at Finn, who sidestepped.
Looking back briefly on hearing Finn-Ice's yell and seeing the expression on O'Malley's face, Simon saw the ice block coming, dropped what he was doing and ducked out of the way just in time to avoid it. The massive chunk of ice bounced against the cage door - shattering both the pick and tension wrench he'd left in the keyhole - then skidded back across the floor at high speed. Finn-Ice, too distracted by Finn trying to leap on his back and yank his crown off, didn't see the ice block coming back to him until it knocked him clean off of his feet.
"An' here was me thinkin' that was gonna break open the cage for us," O'Malley said, having also stepped out of the way of the approaching chunk of ice. "Guess he made the bars of the cage even stronger than I thought… Time's half gone, by the way. Hurry it up, boy!" Indeed, the frost on the walls had thickened further, and was even starting to form in places on O'Malley's hat and the long fur on his ears.
Simon ignored O'Malley and simply silently cursed Finn-Ice's bad aim - or possibly good aim, although he thought that might be giving him too much credit. He selected a backup tension tool and his last remaining pick, the hook-diamond with only half its handle, and after quickly pulling out the useless remains of the last pick, he set to work once more.
At least now I know the layout of the inside, Simon thought as he quickly went through the pins in order, this time prepared for the slight shift when he hit the spool pin. Now he just needed to apply a bit more pressure, and-
snap
Finn, oblivious to whatever was transpiring in front of the cage, kicked Finn-Ice's crown off the head of the prone wizard before he could react to being floored by his own attack. Jumping on his chest, Finn grabbed the front of his tunic. "Give up? I can keep punching you all day if that's what you-"
Finn was interrupted by his own shirt being grasped by huge, frigid fingers. He had forgotten about Finn-Ice's right arm. Finn had no time to react, only enough time to recall Simon's warning - its reach is farther than you think, and DO NOT LET HIM GRAB YOU WITH IT! - before Finn-Ice wrenched him off his chest and slammed him into the floor like he was made of cardboard. Dazed, Finn thought he heard Simon yelling as the enraged wizard got to his feet, but he could barely breath, much less make out Simon's words. Finn Ice snarled and slammed him against the wall, crushing the air from Finn's lungs. Finn gasped for air and kicked at Finn-Ice, but his legs weren't long enough to hit him and he struck only air. He clawed at the icy fingers digging into his shirt, trying to dislodge them, but Simon hadn't exaggerated - Finn-Ice's grip was utterly unshakeable.
It was then that somehow, through the haze of being winded and half-stunned, Finn noticed something.
Within the joints of those fingers, tiny, faint sparks of frost magic danced, too small and too faint to be seen unless up close. As Finn-Ice screamed the usual Angry Offended Crazy Wizard things that he'd heard a thousand times before from Ice King, Finn quickly looked up the arm to the wrist, then the elbow joint, and… yes, he was pretty sure he could see the same magic at work!
Finn remembered thrusting his sword into the source of a similar glow not too long ago, and what had happened to the creature that had possessed that glow. If he just had something to stab it with…
"FINN! HEADS UP!"
Both Finns turned their head to the source of the cry. Simon - the cage behind him wide open - held Finn's demonsblood sword, tossing it towards the two of them. Finn-Ice tried to intercept the blade, but, apparently no good at catching things with his non-dominant hand, fumbled, leaving the blade to drop right into Finn's outstretched grasp.
Not leaving the Ice Prince any time to react, Finn swung the sword as hard as he could with one hand, cleaving with a ferocity and accuracy borne of high adrenaline directly into the joint where the upper portion of Finn-Ice's ice arm met with his elbow. Immediately, Finn-Ice's forearm and hand crumbled apart into their separate components, the supply of magical energy keeping them together cut off. Finn dropped to the floor in a shower of icy finger-segments, landing on his feet as Finn-Ice stumbled forward, off guard. Seizing his chance, Finn launched a punch into the wizard's gut, followed by a vicious headbutt as Finn-Ice doubled over. Not letting up, Finn finished off with an uppercut to the jaw, yelling as he struck:
"AND THAT'S FOR THE BAD PUN!"
Finn Ice made a pained, surprised noise as the fist connected, crashing, limp, to the floor a second later.
After a few moments, Simon broke the silence. "...Wow. I was expecting you to just hold him at swordpoint until he let you go and then backed him into the cage, but daaang, that works too!" He kneeled and picked up a fallen piece of Finn-Ice's arm. "How'd you work out how to break his arm like that?"
"He had the same glowy bits of magic as before in the gaps where the bits of ice joined together," Finn explained, "so I just figured it was kinda like the sentry bug things - break the glowy parts, and the whole thing falls apart."
"Huh, that makes sense." Simon then paused, looking thoughtfully at the piece of ice. After a moment, he looked up, something suddenly occurring to him. "...Wait. How did fight him for this long and never think to do that? I didn't even know his arm had any glowy bits!"
Finn shrugged. "I dunno. I only really noticed when I had it practically in my face. You haven't ever looked at it up close?"
"That explains it," Simon snorted, dropping the chunk of arm into the pile. "I try not to get within grabbing distance of that thing as much as possible. I guess I might have noticed it too if I made a habit of getting all close and personal..."
"Hey, I hate to interrupt your little wizard-punchin' tactics chat, but my knees are still frozen to this floor." Finn turned around, as did Simon - sure enough, O'Malley was trapped in a kneeling position in front of the cage door, the fur on his legs interwoven with residual frost from the lock's powering-up. "Either of you gonna finish breakin' me out of here, or am I gonna end up dead from the cold like that poor sap in the corner?" He jerked a thumb in the direction of the battered and now frost-dusted wicker dog basket in the corner of the cage.
Finn approached the cage to get a better look. Lying in the dog basket, there was… Woah, didn't expect to see you here!, Finn thought. "Okay, I could be wrong here, but I'm pretty sure that dog isn't dead."
"Looks pretty dead to me." O'Malley replied. "You really think they've still got life in 'em even with their guts on the outside?"
Simon approached the cage, taking a screwdriver from his bag as he walked. "This is all I have, but it'll probably work okay as an ice pick… What's were you guys saying about a dead-oh!" Simon's eyes widened with surprise as he saw what lay in the basket, and he raised his fingers to his mouth, producing a piercing whistle.
O'Malley removed his finger from his ear, wincing. "...Okay, so that was entirely pointless, aside from givin' me a bigger headache than I had alreadySWEETMOTHEROFGLOB-!" O'Malley jerked violently to the side, freeing himself (and leaving chunks of fur embedded in the floor in the process) as the previously-considered-dead poodle ambled up beside him, glassy-eyed, and gave him a curious sniff.
Simon suppressed a schadenfreude-laden snicker as O'Malley lay on the floor clutching his shins in agony, bending to pet the zombie poodle's head as it approached him, tail wagging. "Geez, Schwable, you seriously slept through that entire fight? You're getting way too used to being here, buddy."
"Is he owned by Marceline in this world as well?" Finn asked, also petting Schwable, who gave Finn's hand a wary sniff.
"Yep." Simon grinned,
"Wait a sec," O'Malley interrupted, sitting up. "Marceline as in Queen Marceline of the Monster Kingdom? You know her?!"
"We should probably stick around a while longer," Simon continued, ignoring O'Malley. "She usually goes to rescue Schwable herself whenever Finn-Ice manages to capture him and I'm not around to fill in."
"I guess she's usually too busy with royal biz to do it herself most of the time?" Finn asked.
"Yeah, if it's not official Monster Kingdom biz, it's usually concerts. Plus, she kinda takes the overkill route - Finn-Ice might be a wad, but I kinda think breaking every bone in his body every time he steps out of line is too far." Especially when it doesn't even stop him trying again once he heals, Simon mentally added at the end. There was no need for Marceline to repeatedly maim a mentally ill old wizard when a minor pummeling had the same effect.
"Hey, c'mon, Simon, that's not true," a familiar voice said in a playful tone from the window. Simon and Finn turned around, and sure enough, the queen of the Monster Kingdom flew through the opening, evidently having finally found time to track down her pet. "I don't break every bone in his body!"
"She does so," Finn-Ice mumbled from his spot on the floor.
Simon rolled his eyes - He should have known that Finn-Ice was just playing unconscious so that Finn would stop hitting him. In Simon's experience, Finn-Ice was pretty impossible to knock out for more than a few minutes, but he was at least usually willing to accept defeat when downed. Although, considering the towering rage he'd been in moments before, his now-missing arm might have something to do with it as well. At least this time.
For now, he decided to ignore Finn-Ice's remark, instead turning his focus back to Marceline. "Hey, Marcy," he said, grinning. "How long have you been home?"
"Since this afternoon, but I only just realized Schwable wasn't in the castle garden a few minutes ago." Marceline replied, floating over to scratch behind the zombie poodle's ear." I've been up to my eyes in paperwork and royal stuff… It's been kind of a drag. I didn't expect to see you here, though... Bonnie said she wound up with two guys from an alternate universe in her lab yesterday and you were helping them get some sciencey stuff to send them back home."
"Yeah, I kind of got sidetracked with one of 'em." Simon gestured towards Finn, who was currently eyeing Marceline's crown curiously, as if he was surprised it was there. "This is Finn - Don't let the name and hat fool you, in his universe he's the human hero guy. Finn, this is Queen Marceline!"
"Wow, that's pretty weird." Marceline said, waving at Finn. "Hi, cooler Finn!"
"Cooler Finn?!" Finn-Ice exclaimed, outraged. "But I'm prince of-" Marceline whirled round briefly to face the still prone Ice Prince, snarling with suddenly monstrous features. "Uh… I mean, carry on." Finn-Ice muttered, shrinking back down to a faking-dead posture.
"Hi, uh, Queen Marceline!" Finn said, evidently not used to adding the title to her name. Simon hadn't asked much else about the Marceline from Finn's universe, besides her relation to Ooo's version of himself. He wondered if she didn't slay the vampire king in Ooo, or if she just never used the title there, not having a kingdom of her own.
"So... yeah, thanks for helping Simon get my dog back! Didn't think he'd be available for it - Bonnie said you guys had gone down to Junkyard Town for spare parts..."
Suddenly, before Simon could explain, O'Malley stepped forward, tail wagging happily and flashing her a winning smile. "Ah, 'dat's 'cause they were actually here to save me, matter of fact!" He said, doffing his hat. Simon gave him a confused look - not because he'd interrupted Simon before he could tell Marceline what a dirtbag he was, he'd expected that - but due to the utterly baffling change of accents. "I'm Mayor O'Malley of Junkyard Town, Your Majesty, pleased to meet you!" O'Malley continued, shaking Marceline's hand.
"What's he doing?" Finn muttered to Simon as O'Malley introduced himself further to Marceline.
"Heck if I know." Simon shrugged. He didn't like the idea of O'Malley talking to Marceline. When O'Malley talked to people who didn't know his tendencies, he tended to win them over, and that more often than not ended badly for the other person. Granted, he was pretty sure Marceline was too smart for that, but he could never be too sure what O'Malley had up his sleeve.
"And why is he putting on that voice?" Finn continued. "He kinda sounds like the secretary lady from that pre-war film about those dudes who trapped ghosts."
"I haven't seen that one…Sounds pretty cool, actually. When this is all over and done with, we've gotta trade movies some time." Simon replied. He was also reminded of a character from a film, however - A robber from a pre-war film who had disguised himself as a cop in order to learn the security for the houses he was robbing.
It suddenly struck Simon that knowing about that film made O'Malley's fake accent more appropriate than his natural accent, which he'd mostly heard in pre-war films coming from rough-but-heroic outlaws on horseback. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the conversation between Marceline and O'Malley.
"...But that's all behind me now. And a few years ago, back in Beachtown. You ever get out that way? Real fancy buildin's in the Penguin District! Or at least they was when I was hanging around there..."
"Psht, I used to hang out there. Not so much now." Marceline grumbled. "I had a really cool retreat in the Penguin District for heavy jam sessions a few years ago, but someone broke into it and stole all my instruments! Some of those guitars were really rare, too!"
Simon's eyes widened in shock.
No. It couldn't have been. It had to have been some other house.
"Geez, I think I heard about that," O'Malley replied, putting his hat back on, setting it at an angle where Marceline could no longer see his eyes but the two boys could. "Some sneaky crook just picked the lock and waltzed on in, right?" He gave Simon a look. "Did you ever find out who did it?"
"Dude," Finn whispered, nudging Simon gently with one elbow. "Is he talking about-?"
Simon didn't answer, too blindsided by this turn of events. He's bluffing. He's trying to lead me on. It COULDN'T have been...
"No," Marceline sighed. "Lucky for them, I guess - If I ever got my hands on the jerk that did it, they'd beg for death days before I was done with them. Gotta make an example of them and all that jazz - Nobody steals my guitars and survives to brag about it, right?"
"Nobody messes with the Queen of the Monster Kingdom, I gotcha," O'Malley replied. "Tell you what, though - I kept a good record of my dealin's back then. Maybe I could look through what's left of my old journals and see if any of the other people in the group I ran with had somethin' to do with it? What was the actual address of this place, anyway?
Marceline scratched her head. "Uh… 18 Thackery Way, I think? Yeah, that's it. 18 Thackery Way."
For the second time that evening, as O'Malley looked over at the two boys again and winked, Simon's guts froze over.
He's not bluffing.
"So, just to recap here - there I was, with a suitcase full of lifted gems, three giant, angry-lookin' kangaroo rat miners, bigger than I could handle even if there was one of 'em, suddenly cornering me and demanding to know what I was doin' on their land, right?"
"Woah," Simon said, looking up from the padlock to the gate. "So how'd you get out of there without getting beat up?"
"Eyes on the lock, kid, I don't wanna have to dig a broken pick out of there when I finally find my keys." O'Malley responded. Simon dutifully switched his attention back to the lock."Anyway, in situations like that, all you can really do is bluff as hard as you can - I spun some tale about being the local gem inspector - showed 'em my driver's license too fast for them to get a good look at it, that sorta thing."
"What did they say to that?" Simon asked. "Oh hey, I got it!" The padlock to the gate clicked open.
"Nice work, kid." O'Malley said as he helped the boy push the gate open just enough for the two of them to squeeze through. "Anyway, they believed me. And maybe a bit too well, at that - next thing I know, they're offerin' me "samples" of their gems to "evaluate!" I wound up gettin' out of there with gems twice the value of what I'd stuck in the suitcase."
"Why did they fall for something like that in the first place?" Simon was pretty sure that if he'd ever tried to pass himself off as a gem inspector, he'd have been kicked clean out of Uuu by angry kangaroo rats. Not that he'd ever want to get into a situation where he needed to. Kangaroo rats were usually nice people, and it wasn't like he wanted to steal any gems.
"The right body language goes a long way when you're tryin' to pull the wool over someone's eyes," O'Malley replied as they quietly crunched their way up the gravel path. "The most useful skill I ever learned was gainin' total control over my tail. Means I can wag it whenever I wanna look extra friendly… Although I guess you ain't gotta worry about that one, what with no tail and all." He looked around furtively, as if to check for intruders.
Simon wondered if O'Malley might be worried about burglars. He'd heard Dad tutting over a string of robberies in the area mentioned in the paper that morning. Considering how many houses O'Malley owned - especially this one, which was beautifully built, and almost looked like a haunted house - he could definitely understand why the old dog was keeping an eye out for people who weren't supposed to be there.
The lock for the front door was trickier than the padlock, and coupled with the fading light of sunset, it took a little longer to open, even with less anecdotal distractions from O'Malley. Simon enjoyed every second, however - the challenge of working out just how to get the pins to set was part of the fun for him, and made the click as he finally beat the lock all the more rewarding.
Simon looked around curiously as the two of them strode across the threshold. Inside, all the curtains were drawn, making the house feel almost cavelike.
"Hey, Mr O'Malley, where's the light switch?" he asked, peering into the gloom.
"Leave the lights off, kid," O'Malley replied as he headed down the hallway. "Don't want the neighbors thinkin' I'm actually at home when I'm just here to pick up some stuff - ah, here we go, jackpot!" O'Malley vanished through a doorway, and after a moment of further looking around, Simon decided to follow.
When he caught up with O'Malley, he was taken by surprise. The room he'd entered was filled with instruments! And not just any instruments, either - he recognized the keyboard in the corner as a really expensive one that Gunter had been salivating over in a catalog, and he'd seen several of the guitars O'Malley was taking off of the walls in the same catalog with really big price tags. Simon wondered why O'Malley had turned to a life of crime when he could play so many different things.
As O'Malley slung a couple of guitars over his shoulder, Simon approached a drum kit in the corner. He'd wanted to play the drums… maybe O'Malley could teach him more skills than just lockpicking.
"Hey, Mr O'Malley, I didn't know you knew how to play drums. Think you could teach me how?"
"Huh?" O'Malley looked up from setting down the keyboard, which had proven to be too much to carry along with the two guitars. "Sorry, kid, I don't play."
"Oh, okay." Simon said, a little disappointed, but not too surprised. There was only one drum kit to many, many guitars. Maybe he only played guitar, and the keyboard and drums were for when he invited friends over for jam sessions. "How about guitar, then?"
O'Malley snorted. "Kid, I don't play guitar either. These ain't my instruments."
"So why do you have so many of them in your house?" Simon frowned. Was he looking after them for someone? Or perhaps he just collected expensive instruments for some reason or-
"Hrm." O'Malley looked thoughtful for a second, suddenlly mulling something over. "Okay. To tell you the truth, kid, this ain't my house."
Not his house? Simon thought. But if it was a friend's house, why wouldn't they have given him the…
Simon was silent for a long moment. Then, shakily, he spoke again.
"...W-were any of them your houses?"
"Naw, but my house locks'd be too advanced for you right now anyway, kid." O'Malley responded, seemingly oblivious to the sudden look of infinite distress on Simon's face "Ain't bashin' how good you are, mind you - thing about lockpickin', son, is that knowin' about it means you can make your own locks really hard to get through. We ain't the only thieves in town, after a-"
Simon turned tail and ran before he could finish. With a growl of irritation, O'Malley unshouldered the guitars, leaving them on the floor as he sprinted after the human boy.
Simon made it down the hallway (he lied he said he was RETIRED why did he lie) out the door (i helped him HELPED HIM how many people lost their stuff because of me) and halfway down the path (I THOUGHT HE WAS COOL) before O'Malley caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning the boy round to face him. "Kid, where the blazes d'you think you're headed?!"
"The police!" Simon shouted. "I didn't wanna be a thief, I just wanted to learn how to do lockpicking! You LIED to me, and made me do… unlawful stuff!"
After a short pause, O'Malley let out a short, huffy sigh, giving Simon a stern glance. "...Okay, first off, keep your voice down. Now, fair enough, I lied to you. But lemme ask you somethin', kid: When you go tell the police what happened, how's it gonna sound when you say "I opened all those locks for Mr O'Malley, then helped him carry out all those stolen things to his truck"? Doesn't look good for you, right?"
Simon bit his lip. He hadn't thought about that, but he wasn't about to let O'Malley get away with this so easily. "Yeah, but I don't… I don't need to tell them I helped you put that stuff in your truck! and-"
"Kid, if you don't think I'm not gonna return the favor if you rat me out, you've got another thing comin'," O'Malley snorted. "Then they'll compare your fingerprints to the ones you left on the locks and the stuff you carried, and then not only will they know you're a crook, you'll be a liar too, and what'll your folks think then?"
Simon couldn't think of any way around that. He'd read books on detectives - fingerprints didn't lie, and there were probably a bunch of other clues he'd left behind in all those houses. His bottom lip trembled.
"An' that brings me to another point, kid - when they find out you've gone all "unlawful", as you said, they're gonna start askin' how you an' I met. Which'd lead 'em back to the safehouse an' the whole dang gang. Includin' Gunter. You think your mom and pop'll forgive you for gettin' your brother branded as a crook as well? An' more to the point... do you think he would ever forgive you?"
Simon's legs wobbled, then folded under him, and he collapsed to a kneeling position on the gravel. He looked up at O'Malley, eyes shining with tears.
"I-I won't tell anyone. Just- I don't wanna d-do this any more."
O'Malley kneeled down in front of the boy, fixing him with a look that a hawk might give a cornered mouse.
"Can't let you do that, kid." he said softly. "You're a vital part of this operation now… plus, if you do quit, I'm pretty sure I could frame you for the entire thing. An' I'm also pretty sure that even if I don't get linked to it, they'll still look into how you learned to break into places, which, again, will likely lead back to Gunter and the rest of the gang. Tell you what, though," O'Malley pulled Simon to his feet again, gently leading him to the truck, which was parked just outside the gate they'd entered through. "you ain't in any state right now to help carry all those instruments. Go sit in the truck while I load it up, let all this sink in, aight?" He opened the truck door, let Simon numbly wobble into the passenger seat, then shut it behind him, locking it.
Simon watched O'Malley head back through the gate, down the gravel path, and into the house that wasn't his. Then, alone in O'Malley's truck, with the smell of car, wet dog and stale chinese food, he started to cry. He was trapped. He couldn't even just leave the car and run for it, as he had no doubts that O'Malley would make good on his threat to drag him down with him.
Years in the future, Simon would lie awake thinking of comebacks to O'Malley's threats - I'll tell them you lied to me being chief among them - but now, only one thought crawled into his six-year-old mind.
This is really all my fault, isn't it?
He'd known from the start that O'Malley was a crook. He'd known he was incapable of flawless lies and trickery, and yet he'd trusted him.
Another thought slithered into his head unbidden.
Maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe I went along with it because deep down, I'm okay with it. Why else would I have thought he was so cool?
he covered his face with his hands and howled, more tears streaming down his cheeks.
I'm just as bad as him.
He was unaware just how much time had passed until he heard the click of the door being unlocked. By that time, his cuffs and nearly half his sleeves were drenched in tears and snot. As O'Malley flung himself into the driver's seat, Simon looked up at him, red-eyed and soggy.
"Got it all out? That's good. Put your seatbelt on, kid. Don't wanna get hurt if someone crashes into us, right?"
"I-I don't- I don't deserve to be safe." Simon sputtered out.
"Kid, there's a difference between "unlawful" and "lackin' in common sense"." O'Malley replied, reaching over and buckling Simon's seatbelt himself. "An' whaddaya mean, "don't deserve it"?"
Simon took a moment to respond, sucking in deep breaths to stave off the tears. Despite how rotten he felt, something inside him did not want to be seen crying by O'Malley. "I was supposed to be good. Like Billy the Hero. Now I'm… I'm."
O'Malley sighed, digging in his pockets for the keys to the truck. "Listen, kid. Beween you and me? You've got a lot of talent, and even more raw potential. But it ain't the type of potential for bein'' like that Billy guy."
He started the engine.
"And to be honest... your skills'd be wasted as a hero."
Simon stood at the window, watching the receding figure of Marceline carrying Schwable in her arms. Behind him, O'Malley stood, inputting Marceline's number into his phone, and behind O'Malley, Finn stood, glaring daggers into the back of O'Malley's head.
Finn-Ice still lay on the floor, too cowed by Marceline to even look up or say anything. He probably wouldn't move until they'd all left.
"Y'know, I've never heard anybody call her Marcy before." O'Malley finally spoke, pocketing his phone. "You two must be pretty close, huh?"
Simon didn't respond. O'Malley clearly knew the answer, anyway. He hadn't said much of anything since O'Malley winked at him, and still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to say goodbye to Marceline without screaming.
"...You and your friend come quietly an' maybe you'll still be close when you're let out of jail." O'Malley continued.
For a moment more, Simon didn't respond, hands gripping the edge of the window as he thought. Then, he spoke:
"I'll… I'll come quietly. But let Finn go home."
"I don't think so. Kid's seen too much. What if he-"
"Look," Simon said, turning around to face O'Malley, "Finn's home is in an entirely different universe from our own, remember? So he's not exactly gonna be able to tell anyone who can help me, right?" This wasn't entirely true, but Simon wasn't about to let Finn go to jail again due to him messing up a second time. And he was out of lockpicks, after all- he wouldn't be able to break the two of them out again.
"O'Malley snorted." Fine. If he leaves town, an' you come quietly, I won't be givin' your spooky royal pal a call." He patted the coat pocket he'd put his phone in. "Same goes for if your brother, that talkin' candy dog, or anyone else comes sniffin' around tryin' to bust you out or mess with my current operation. Got it?"
"So what's to stop us from just punching you and taking that phone?" Finn snapped.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I can just recall the number and dial it from a different phone. An' even if you punch the number out of my head somehow, I'm sure I can deduce where the Queen of the Monster Kingdom lives an' tell her in person. An' I'm sure that beatin' up an innocent old mayor like me will add even more tarnish to Simon's seemingly spotless reputation, am I right?"
"Innocent?! You're as innocent as a bucket of-" Finn's words died in his throat as O'Malley took his phone out of his pocket. Instead of finishing the insult, Finn simply growled through his teeth and stomped to the other side of the room.
"That's what I thought," O'Malley said, putting the phone away. "Well, Simon?"
Simon closed his eyes. "...Fine. Deal."
O'Malley nodded in approval. "Still a smart kid in the end, I see. Aight, let's get outta here - the cold is really startin' to seep into my bones… Hope there's a quicker exit than out that window, I'll be happy to be shot of this place."
Finn was about to follow O'Malley and Simon when he felt a tug on his sock. Looking down, Finn-Ice was laying there propped up on what was left of his ice arm, beckoning for Finn to kneel down. Finn was halfway into the kneeling position until the thought struck him that, on some level, Finn-Ice was at least slightly like him. And therefore had some of the same ideas as him.
"... Okay, just to make sure: Are you just trying to get me to kneel down so I'm in range for you to punch me?"
Finn-Ice paused."Well, I can't say I didn't consider it..." Finn rolled his eyes, then made to stand up again, only prevented by Finn-Ice grabbing the bottom of his shirt. "Wait, wait! I gotta ask: What was that thing all about with Simon and that puppy? Seemed pretty heavy stuff for a puppy."
"He's… really not a dog you want, dude." Finn replied.
"Not without serious training, anyway. He acts like a real downer for a puppy just now," Finn-Ice said. "But real talk, Less Cool Me - is Simon gonna be okay?"
Finn paused. From what he'd seen of him in the letters and in person, Simon always worked out a plan to fix everything in the end. He was smart, and very good at solving problems.
But he'd also never been trapped quite like this before.
"...I don't know."
