"I swear," Malekith started, breaking the silence of the breakfast table, "Hellebron was up to it again. All. Fucking. Night."
"What, so you couldn't hear your mom?" Malus retorted.
"Eat a dick. She said she'd only host her 'party' once a week. This is easily the third time since Monday."
Malekith paused to make brief eye contact with everyone else at the table, "do you have any idea how hard it is to study when there's a blood-orgy next door?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure it was very difficult to 'study'," Rakarth started, "we all know you were watching anime or jerking off. Besides, it sounds like the pleasure cults have toned themselves down if they're only having orgies."
Malekith ignored the scathing remark, "I've got to stop her if I'm ever going to retake my rightful place on the throne."
Malus spoke up angrily, "stop calling Valedictorian the throne!"
With deftness and speed, Malekith quickly withdrew a large can from the backpack leaning against his chair, "watch your tone, schizo-boy" he said while dangling a can of monster energy.
Malus quickly went silent and looked down at the table while Malekith replaced the can and adjusted the gauze on his arm.
"Want that I should scuttle them? I could board their vessel with me cutlasses and-"
Rakarth, in an uncharacteristic blurt, cut off Lokir, "Fuck off, Lokir. As amusing as it would be to see you try to use those Walmart machetes, we all know Hellebron would kick your ass."
"Arrgh" Lokir grunted.
"That's right, she was the captain of the fencing team way back when…" Rakarth mused.
"Yeah," Malus started, "back when she went here with Mor-"
The conversation was cut by the sharp tolling of a bell.
"Yarr, I be settin' sail for first period." Lokir remarked as he slipped on his backpack.
A loose chorus of affirmative grunts followed as the band rose from their seats and dispersed.
"And so, by following the formula and practice, not only can you turn your enemies into lead, you can teach them SEARING DOOM!"
Mr. Gelt, doing his usual theatrics, failed to garner similar enthusiasm from the chemistry class. Somewhere on a lower floor, a muffled yet synchronized call of "DOOOOOOOOOM" rang out in response.
Malekith stared at his notebook between rounds of scanning the classroom in an effort to look attentive. Out of the corner of his eye, the chemistry teacher held a sword aloft and with a wave of his staff the sword came crashing down onto Mr. Gelt's desk.
"You'd swear it was made of lead, because now it is!" The class remained silent as Mr. Gelt analyzed their reactions, "You'll have the rest of class to work on your formulas. Turn them in on your way out."
Malekith scratched the formulas into his notebook via a dull pencil. His writing was methodical, a practice he had inadvertently developed from years of school.
Maybe if I put sedative in her wine? Maybe Laxative? Has anyone made an un-Viagra for women?
Trapped in his state of thought, the minutes passed while his formulas remained unfinished. Before he knew it, the next bell had rung. Without a word, the students rose and formed a line to turn in their papers and exited the room. Malekith, despite the half-finished nature of his work, had other matters to be concerned over.
Sitting silently at the same table as before, Malekith picked at his lunch. Across the table, Rakarth ate his usual posh food. On either side of him, Lokir struggled to eat a sandwich made of homemade hardtack while Malus omitted food entirely in favor of his monster energy drink.
Tables had been set up throughout the auditorium in such a way that different cliques had their own tables to congregate. The wall on the opposing side of the room was made entirely of glass and readily displayed the same gloomy landscape and dim sunlight. The bright white light of the overhead lamps helped to counter this and gave a sense of shelter.
Rakarth looked up at Malekith, "still pondering on your neighbor's debauchery?"
"I'm not sure what to do."
Malus interjected, "you could always drug their wine, it worked once."
"No one's going to let me near their wine after that," Malekith replied, "and besides, Hellebron wouldn't give me the time of day on account of my mother."
Malekith briefly recalled the incident, wine, laxative, fire, searing pain…
"Yarr, then how's about we break up the party? I've got me mask so they'd have narry an idea who done it."
"I'm sure there are many pirate impersonators who flaunt their machetes in town." Rakarth remarked with his usual blank yet condescending expression.
Malekith pondered the notion, his desperation adding to how seriously he took it, "We'll keep that as a backup plan."
"I can't fucking believe we went with the backup plan," Malekith whispered to Malus, "are you sure you don't want to help? Maybe let Tz'arkan out for a bit?"
"You can't really call it a backup plan if you didn't have any other plans" Rakarth chimed.
"I can't, I repressed the daemon before I arrived. He vied for control of my soul but…"
"Dammit," Malekith started, "so that's where that can of monster went."
"Quiet," Rakarth interrupted, "I can't believe I have to explain this to you two but if you don't want to be noticed then you must be silent."
"Yarr, I be the skiff on still water."
The four, under the cover of night, crouched in the bushes waiting for their opportunity. Dull, yellow light streamed from the nearby house, providing a contrast to the dim light of the waning moons.
The structure was mansion-like, with great quantities of polished stone present in it's lower walls and a tower protruding from a rear corner. Around it stood a black wrought iron fence so dark that it blended into the night's landscape.
Figures and silhouettes flashed behind the smoked glass of the windows, "far too many to just be Hellebron, it must be happening again" Rakarth deduced.
Malekith looked over at Lokir while Malus and Rakarth kept their gaze fixed on the window. The laughter echoing from the house was slowly changing into a more sensual tone. The pace and progression of the event was indicative of the expertise honed by the pleasure cults.
"Are you ready?"
"Aye, I've brought me booty, nay boarding pike nor staunch crew would hinder the scuttle."
"I'm starting to wonder how much of what you say is intelligible" Rakarth whispered.
In the dim combined light, Malekith glanced at what Lokir had brought. In his hands were a long, flat board and a round stone about the size of an apple. These were in addition to the usual pair of cheap machetes sheathed at his sides.
Catching his words in his throat, Malekith refrained from asking further about Lokir's exact plan. It would make denying affiliation easier.
Meanwhile, the brothel's chorus of moans from Hellebron's mansion grew louder and would likely continue for several hours late into the night.
"Now!" Malekith signaled to Lokir.
Quickly and quietly, Lokir stood and vaulted over the fence, setting out for the nearest window. The silhouettes only grew more frantic on his approach.
Holding the stone aloft, Lokir shouted, "fire!" In a well-rehearsed movement, he hurled the stone through the window, shattering the smoked glass. The sensuous sounds came to a sudden stop as profanities of curiosity replaced them.
Lifting the board into the broken window, Lokir shouted again, "prepare to be boarded!"
Drawing his machetes as he ran up the board, he disappeared into the window as shouts of anger met the intruder.
"How long do you think he'll last?" Malus asked openly.
"I suspect he's being escorted out now." Rakarth replied.
A few minutes passed before the front door swung open, casting the same dull, yellow light dangerously close to the bushes they were hiding in.
"Get the fuck out of here you little shit!" Hellebron's voice rang distinctly, being shrill and reminiscent of a crone.
Holding Lokir off the ground in one hand, she threw him down the stone steps of her front door. Waiting until he had reached the bottom step, Hellebron slammed the door behind her.
Quickly leaving the bushes to retrieve their injured comrade, Malekith was surprised to see Lokir spattered with blood.
"Are you ok? Did you actually hurt anyone?"
Lokir coughed, "Nay, 'twere already blood a plenty in that whore house" he coughed again before continuing, "me cutlasses weren't ready for the occasion, if only I'd brought me sea-dragon cloak…"
"That trench coat wouldn't have compensated for your lack of swordsmanship" Rakarth remarked as he calmly stepped closer.
Sharper voices began to murmur through the broken window, Hellebron's being distinct, "how much is this going to cost?"
Each offering a shoulder, Malekith and Malus hoisted Lokir and made a quick exit of the premises with Rakarth taking the lead.
At least I can have some peace tonight.