CHAPTER 31

"Smooth hustle. No guzzle and bustle."

"This is about to be superb!" said Ken as he walked down the hall with Enoch, lugging a broad range of supplies for partying prep work. "Can you remember the last time you have been so excited for a special day involving the arts and crafts of the heart, Enoch?"

Enoch shook his head in disagreement, mostly because he was a disagreeable Neanderthal of a serpentine stupidhead. However, he was actually disagreeing because he was simply unaware of his own happenstance. He could not recall the last time he had gone to work on a party for somebody. The last party he had been to was back in college before dropping out to join the army. Empire was his destiny, but Empire's destiny was not Enoch; he was a scalawag.

"I am very optimal about this experience," said Ken joyously. "Don't mess it up, you wad!"

Ken and Enoch met up with Kit in the cafeteria. They laid down their supplies and got to work on making the room spiffy with ornamental goods. Kit decorated like a little kid even though he was an old fogey. Ken was really good at making cute designs. He was like the grandma of the group. He even knew how to cook excellently and fine like Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg. It was a marvel to watch a buff echidna like himself excel at the great whimsy of cooking and other Feng Shui practices. He danced like a noodle among the olive oil. He was just such a spectacular arriver to the party's preparation. These last few stages were about to be a spring breeze thanks to his superior intellect.

Enoch was stupid at party life, so he failed to do well with the creative endeavours. Enoch had funny, flimsy robot talons on his hands, so he could not firmly grasp it like everyone else who was actually born with hands and deserved good things in their lives. It was so disrespectful that Enoch always had to intrude on better people's lives and ruin it for everyone. This was one of the main reasons why Wraith and his wise proverbs condemned the snaky twerp. He was a lout of uncontrollable idiocy and he deserved to be locked up in a box and tossed under a very damp tree in Sacramento.

"Hey man, what do you think of my paper dolls?" asked Kit to Ken as he showed him his experimental tribute. He hoped Wraith would respect the hedgehog hair designs he had installed upon his handiwork. Ken winked in approval of Kit's mighty deed of honour. Kit smiled his big cheeky smile with the facial tips approaching very near. He then ceased his labourious expression and returned to making more paper dolls for more care about Wraith's indelible aid to Empire. It felt like the right thing to do after all.

"What about you, Enoch?" asked Ken snidely. "Are you behaving or are you still terrible at life?"

"I'm doing the best I can," said Enoch with sweating forehead essence steaming up and coating his inner helm. He was toasting like a bread in the oven.

"What a boor…" Ken mumbled under his breath. Kit overheard this and snickered a bit. They all knew it to be true. Enoch was a razzle-dazzle heap of trouble and his tenured actions had to be quelled by striking for the heart of frivolity. Only then was Enoch's threatening state neutralized like a sword still used within the scabbard.

"Where is Wraith anyway, Kit?" asked Ken as he stirred the pot of glue for crafts with one hand and the bowl of oatmeal raisin cookies with the other. He was ambidextrous and a better solution to many problems than measly one-armed candidates that refused to acknowledge their cavalcade of oft forgotten strengths.

"Well, man…" Kit drawled. He took out some salad from his pocket and ate it. His turtle sensations demanded him to remain hydrated through the leafy goodness, so he always carried a spare repertoire of veggies. Sometimes it was carrots. Sometimes it was peas. Sometimes it was even corn despite corn being a starch and not a true vegetable. However, Kit was on a real salad craze ever since returning from the Treasure Hunter's deadly HQ. It could have been because he really enjoyed the trail mix that Ken graciously prepared for the team prior to the long sky trek. Kit might have also been deeply affected by the terrible stench of the garbage chute in which they had to venture through in order to reach the source of evil. The scent was pretty evil as well. Kit might have been attempting to rid his nasal cavities of the horrendous grief that lurked on his nostril sensilla. It was a plaguing mass of agony and turmoil; luckily, Kit was a hot spot for knowing the correct ways to repel the odiferous dangers. Leafy greens such as lettuce, spinach, and cabbage were purely ideal for exterminating the terrors of a harmful latching.

Ken blinked in confusion. Kit gasped as he realised that he had accidentally trailed off thinking about his joys of salad. He laughed at his mistake and Ken laughed to because he knew Kit way too well.

"Well, where is he?" asked Ken again, hoping the old tortoise's composure had been fully regained.

"He's here and there," Kit finally replied, embarking on his conversational life. "Like we said before, he's training at the gym to get his chakras back in balance. That tousle with his old man really threw him through a loop."

"Even though he won?"

"Yeah, man."

"But what do you mean about the 'there and here' component?"

Kit snapped with his fingers in anger of Ken's incorrect paraphrasing. "I said 'he's here and there'!"

Ken realised his mistake and looked down in shame. "Oh, you are right. I did err on that recollection of your past statement. My B, bro."

"Very B, man…"

Kn sighed, giggles aplenty, "Well, where is he?"

"Like I said…"

"'Here and there'?"

"Exactly, man. Wraith is wandering around the Empire building looking for more and more things to partake in like screwing in lightbulbs in the storage room and changing blinker fluid in the garage."

"Oh dear, what if he wanders into this very room?" Ken said scared as he looked around the cafeteria. He was proud of the interior (except for the Enoch areas). "What do we do, Kit. I'm freaking out here!"

Kit did an eyebrow straight up in shocking display. "Why?"

"It's a surprised! remember, you dolt?" Ken grabbed Kit by the shoulders and shook his friend with fear. It was a hard grip due to the firm muscles that grazed one another on the sides, both Ken's and Kit's.

"I know it's a surprise, man."

"Then why would you let him just wander around Empire? He could stop by the cafeteria at any time and see all that we have prepared for him. He isn't allowed to be given eyesight of any of this until we invite him in. The whole thing will be ruined if he does not stay far, far away. He needs to be at least a galaxy in range of our planning. I do not want this plot for friendship and adoration to fall through like a dumb coconut."

Kit and Ken looked at one another with the desperate eyes of heroes about to be killed. They would metaphorically pass away should Wraith had stumbled into their alcove and caught a wholesome glimpse of the current activities. Wraith would probably throw a ginormous fit as well, ending with the destruction of the tidings and a harshly critical lecture on the faith of rehabilitation. Wraith was undeniably the sovereign when it came to these sorts of cumbersome ideals. The stench of disrespectful turmoil mounted as a cognitive apprehension. Kit, Ken, and Enoch were in immediate danger.

"Who can we trust to not make a mess of our grand tribute?" asked Enoch.

"Shut up, Enoch, I am musing on this sort of issue, man…" said Kit as his tortoise mind wandered throughout the distinct possibilities like a rat escaping from a cheese maze. Everything seemed so unethical. Kit was very concerned about the wellbeing of his team. Such relied heavily on the mental state of their leader Wraith the Hedgehog. Stability as such was a detriment to the health of the entire Empire ecosystem. Should they fail to please his royal terms, Wraith may defect to the enemy, becoming the most powerful Treasure Hunter to have ever lived, which would most definitely be the worst outcome, but still a likely one.

"I love this," murmured Ken in smiling frustration. "Dude, we can't do this…"

"We can!" Enoch slammed the table with a hard robotic fist, metal clashing with wood like a neo apocalypse. "Dang all of this!"

"Shut your stinking face!" roared Kit. He hopped aboard the table and rammed his bony head into the bionic snake's thick chest plate. The metal cracked slightly, marring bought the suit integrity and the mental integrity of Enoch himself. Kit saw the damage and seethed at his own inability to calm himself down. He felt his own blood gush from the severed bruise along his scalp line. He reached out a hand, seizing Enoch by his metallic collar. He wanted the drama to end, and Enoch was being nothing but a unhealthy source of the scads of rebellion. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" He roared again, quite unbecoming of his turtle classification, but nonetheless a suitable asset to his deeply undermined culture. Kit was mad and he was about to unleash his fury with more depth than ever unleashed before. The prior misconceptions would be derailed and the hunt for proof towards the goal line had become an ascertained reality. "SHUT UUUUUUPPPP!"

Enoch rolled his eyes as he arose after the enraged tortoise beat him to the ground with a flurry of ravaging punches. "I feel your pain…" said Enoch.

Ken said nothing. All he knew was that Wraith was right the whole time (Wright in a way, but not like the brotherly airplane pioneers). "Dang…" he said as he felt the back of his neck and whisked away his hand past his long, gorgeous locks like a sentimental dinosaur that was not balding.

"I understand…" said Enoch and he looked Kit deeply into his turtle eyes. The reptilian looks were shared by the advancement of species and culture. Drama was a soothing beacon of detrimental knowledge, but none was shared to be a wholesome decree. The dangers of life were overcoming the swamping glare of the lost times. Past times were becoming a shade of raucous drivel.

Kit touched his forehead and felt the coagulating residue of his anger. He rubbed his fingers together and cursed the staining upon his gloves. "This is an unpleasant experience. I hereby elect Enoch to be the person to distract Wraith. His undeniable coverage of all bases of hate will perform the greatest in our journey towards a good surprise party for our marveled leader."

Enoch studied his damage. His chest hurt from the piercing microscopic shrapnel embedded. The rage induced from the slew of punches gave his mind a dramatic sense of ironic behaviour and it fueled his unholy fire. Enoch felt his iron clavicle with his brunt rubber of a calloused hand. He could sense the quieted anger fuming amongst the area. He had once been friends with the other two in the room, especially with Ken. But ever since Wraith had joined his team, nay, Empire as a whole, his world had changed. Empire was his home no longer and was more of a prison that encamped its privilege into his mindset like a scouring maelstrom. The death of his reality was a preconceived morality that had gotten firmly rooted in the highly superior viewpoint of a much greater force. Wraith was the goal, the headliner of the newly established reality. Enoch had no choice to survive but only to give into the mutability of his world. The intangibility was hard to perceive, especially when taking into consideration the unsanctimonious culmination of the rude outpourings of his vision. He was an organic specimen, riddled by the stain of morality. He was now a flaw in the universal design of all perfection and it was a fact he would have to live with for the rest of his miserable life. Enoch was a product of dangerous tamperings with the metaverse, and now he had to reconcile his existence with the pain that so persisted throughout the coming ages, be it for decades, centuries, millennia, or even aeons.

"I will go," said Enoch. And then he left, off to search and retrieve Wraith. His goal was to end the spoiling of the majestic court of appreciation that would be spilt from the chalice of gratitude. A wise leader needed his commemoration in the most justified manner. Enoch would be that catalyst to spawn greatness from his horrible insolence.

"Go get 'em, tiger," said Ken with a wink as Enoch exited through the sliding mechanical doors.

Kit sighed and sat down on the bench. He felt a mixture of sad, glad, and rageful ire. He wanted to wring Enoch's dumb snake neck, but knew it was an unwise decision. Deep down, he still liked Enoch, but it was a painful thought to perceive. His reality was being tainted by the evils of the Treasure Hunters, but it was only natural. "I don't know if I handled the situation correctly."

"You did," said Ken.

"I did?" Kit said sadly as he took some lettuce from under Ken's paper dolls and downed it like a Kool-Aid Jammer.

"Aye, you did your best, bro," said Ken. "I believe if Wraith were here now, he would have been greatly impressed by the majestic actions you took to put that shameful man in his place. You said the right things, not necessarily at the most opportune times, but you did a great deed in making sure your point got across nonetheless. And for a conquest of words such as that, I commend you greatly for your wholesome actions and wish to die by your side in an act of laying down my life in order to perform much needed effective repurposing to your literary nomenclature."

Kit smiled with hearty embrace of his cheeks adourning his brow. They were like two pillows lingering beneath olive clouds. The grand scheme of things was looking more like a propositioned article of the best book money could buy. Kit was the pen and Ken was the author; the two sculpted the triumphant procession of the ideologies. Wraith was their consumer.

"Are you aware of what I just said, Kit, my friend?" asked Ken with a concerned display along the creases of his Echidna countenance.

Kit looked down and smiled more to himself. He then looked up, winked at Ken. Ken smiled and winked back. They then slammed their right hands together in a manly embrace, launching small traces of electricity from their sparkling blood, sweat, and tears. The slight residue of static cling flittered through the air and dissipated into the atmosphere seamlessly. Ken was a bit saddened that he could not allow the radiant energy travel up and into his nasal pathways, granting him further bloodbonding with Kit and sacrificing the luxuries of leisure activities for more labour recycling.

"It's all good, man," said Kit with the tired eyes of a job well done, at least for the time being.

"Yes," said Ken and he and his tortoise companion returned to the festivity preparations.