If you had been idly wandering the streets near Lina's apartment in the twilit gloom of early morning, you might have expected to see nothing more than the oblong black and gray zebra-stripes of a city in half-dark, ghostly with the perfect immobility of insubstantial architecture. If you had looked more closely, however, you might have seen this: smaller shadows floating, flitting, hidden and furtive. Along they scurry, skating at the edges of puddles of light. They project an aura of mystery and danger, for their business is covert and the risks perilous beyond telling.
These are the few…the proud…the oppressed.
But soon they shall be oppressed no longer. No more shall they labor thanklessly as faceless victims of a vicious scourge. No more the corvée, the fearful toil that makes fingers raw red twigs, vertebrae a painful gauntlet, and motion a thousand agonies. No more shall they suffer the brutal consequences of noble failure to fulfill impossible demands. No, today they take action, today they turn the tables, today the CAWUAT will have its revenge!
…And what, you may ask, is the CAWUAT?
That's simple. It's an acronym. A very nice one too, or at least so think its inventors.
Chefs And Waitpersons United Against Tyranny.
Zelgadis was waiting at the back table when Lina stalked into the café, still smoldering. She fell into the chair and gave him a gimlet-eyed gaze. He sipped his coffee. Lina stared, glared, glowered and evil-eyed. Zelgadis, to all appearances, remained unperturbed. Lina took a deep breath. Zelgadis looked up. His eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his sensitive ears and dove for cover with all the considerable haste he could muster.
Then all hell broke loose.
Or Lina threw a temper tantrum.
Whatever you want to call it.
Out of consideration for her still-empty stomach, she took care not to burn down the café in the process of attempting to burn down Zelgadis.
Liberation Army Soldier Number 114 (Reconnaissance and Infiltration Unit) stealthily approached The Enemy. True to form, The Oppressor was currently engaged in the torture and humiliation of an Innocent. Soldier Number 114 felt her cup overflow as her heart swelled in pity for the tormented victim. No more, she vowed to herself, no more shall I permit this base cruelty. Have no fear, for thou shalt be delivered posthaste. As the reader may have guessed, Liberation Army Soldier Number 114 read far too many penny-dreadfuls and was an enthusiastic aspiring Shakespearian actress, albeit a rather inept one. This, however, mattered not, for her heart was pure. With these noble sentiments then, Soldier Number 114 made the first bold gesture against The Tyrant:
"Hello, my name is Sarah and I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order, sir, ma'am?"
At the waitress' trembling intrusion, Lina paused in chewing out Zel and turned to order. Zel contrived to look relieved under the mask as he lifted his hands from his painfully ringing ears and patted out a fire on the edge of his cloak. Lina shot him a glare before preparing to rattle off a string of entrees to make sure he knew he wasn't off the hook. It was simply that when it came down to priorities, food took a higher place on the list than Zelgadis. So Lina named a dozen or so items to whet her appetite.
"Will that be all, miss?"
"No, actually, I'd also like a…"
At this, the waitress let out a bloodcurdling wail, and while Lina and Zelgadis sat stupefied at this apparent descent into utter insanity, raised her pad and pen in a dashing martial pose, and yelled out:
"GET HER BOYS! FOR FREEDOM AND LIBERTY
CHAAAAAAAAARGE!"
At these fateful words, a mighty rumbling erupted from behind the tightly sealed
doors marked "Employees Only," which soon burst asunder under the onslaught of an army of busboys, dishwashers, cooks, and wait staff, all armed to the teeth with the various implements of their professions and screaming fearsome war cries to the high heavens. An awe-inspiring sight indeed, felt Soldier Number 114, the very image of Justice Provoked to Righteous Wrath.
Lina and Zelgadis, however, were not there to be inspired, having run like hell some time ago.
"Does this happen to you often?"
"Shut up and run, smart-ass."
Both Lina and Zelgadis were doing just that at the moment, Lina energetically puffing and panting, and Zelgadis smugly loping along beside her. He hadn't touched the speed his demon side gave him and so was not tired in the least. Running that fast tended to attract attention. And Zelgadis hated attention. Besides, he was fairly sure Lina would fireball him out of sheer frustration if he sped off and left her eating his dust. Come to think of it….
"Why don't you just fireball them?"
"Because I'm a mature and responsible person. I don't solve all my problems with violence."
"So you incinerated the park accidentally?"
It would probably be wise not to call attention to that incident, whispered the side of him that did not at all like living dangerously.
"Shut up! I can't roast waitresses, alright? My friggin' scary big sister's a waitress. She'd kill me."
Of course, if the situation got any worse, she might just have to suffer Luna's terrifying wrath. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
"Shit! Move it, Zel, they're gaining on us!"
Indeed, the urge to do grievous bodily harm to Lina seemed to have given wings to the Liberation Army's feet. They raced forward in a hungry surging swarm, inexorable and ground-eating as the sea. Zelgadis looked back over his own shoulder, and realized there was no help for it. If they kept at the present speed (which already seemed to be pushing the limits of Lina's short-legged sprint) the rabble would be on them in less than a minute. So he wordlessly reached out with one hand, grabbed Lina's waist, threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder, and turned the demon speed all the way up.
The Liberation Army howled and picked up its pace, some of the more portly chefs falling by the sidelines.
The first thing Lina did after she got over the shock of having been slung around like a sack of potatoes was hit Zelgadis as hard as she could where she estimated his kidney should be. This hurt her much more than it hurt him, as there are distinct advantages to having stone skin. The second thing she did after regaining her breath was to do what came naturally.
"WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF PICKING ME UP LIKE THAT? PUT ME DOWN, YOU ASSHOLE!"
They broke out of the dank street Zelgadis had been sprinting through into a broad plaza, the Liberation Army (now down to a core group of very, very athletic members) trailing exhaustedly behind. Zelgadis was astounded that they had managed to keep up as well as they had. He was running so fast that the buildings at his sides had blurred into an indistinguishable mass of color. It shouldn't be humanly possible.
But then again, Zelgadis knew very well just how strong a motivating force the desire for vengeance could be.
Now that Zelgadis had reached an open space through which he could run unimpeded, the Liberation Army had no chance in hell of catching up. Most of their members were already collapsed in panting puddles of sweat along the wayside. Those who remained huddled in a semi-liquid state themselves, watching resentfully as Zelgadis and Lina streaked across the square in a black and red blur. The CAWUAT Liberation Army was beaten and they knew it. So they did the only thing a defeated army can do: They called down curses on the enemy.
"Insatiable fiend!"
"Demon!"
"Enemy to all who live!"
"Hellspawn!"
The morning crowd at the central plaza had been bustling unconcernedly about its business. Elderly matrons haggled over chickens and lengths of woolen thread, and younger matrons fought to keep their children in line. A squabble between two young women had broken out over an especially expensive swath of lace. Butchers, bakers, clothiers, and trinket-sellers hawked their wares. A large group of young men huddled in front of the postings of the latest race results, a few cursing and a few crowing in delight, but all going off to the betting stalls afterwards. A couple of pickpockets lounged in the shadows, waiting for the chance to relieve some unwary gentleman of his wallet.
When an ominously black-cloaked man carrying a kicking, squealing redhead came crashing through the happy chaos of the marketplace at an impossible speed, followed by a worn out lynch mob yelling something about demons, the crowd came to the only conclusion it could. A grabbing hand pulled down the hood of the black-cloaked man to reveal a face that could never pass for human and the Liberation Army watched in dismay as their "demon" was rescued from the clutches of the real thing.
Zelgadis cursed with great creativity and fluency in every language he knew, dead ones included, as he felt someone yank Lina (also cursing) off his shoulder. This was not good, not good at all. He was hemmed in by an angry crowd intent on doing him serious damage, and it was only a matter of time before they found out that although blades might not cut him, his head could be bashed in and his bones broken just as well as anyone else's. It would take considerably more effort of course, but the mob looked quite determined. If he fought back, he would wind up killing some of them and there would be police patrols out for him for the next several months. At any other time he might have considered risking it anyway, but not now, not when he was so close to the Philosopher's Stone. His best bet, he glumly concluded, was to hope he could survive the beating long enough to get thrown in jail. He could always escape from jail.
Damn.
Lina screamed in rage and ducked away from the motherly woman and the Farmer John look-alike who had been comforting the "poor little thing" after her "rescue." Dammit, she had to get to Zelgadis. The concerned townsfolk (the idiots!) had borne her across the plaza from the site of the main commotion. By now what had started out as a fairly usual mob had grown to a fair-to-middling sized riot, and the square was packed wall-to-wall with bodies. By jumping as high as she could, Lina could just barely see the sun glinting off Zel's hair. She took a sighting in that direction and dived back into the morass of humanity to attempt to claw her way through. Spells in a furious, frightened crowd like this would be idiocy. Though she might escape unscathed if she were fast enough, having the entire city hunting for her was not an appealing prospect. By dint of liberally applied elbowing and foot-stomping, Lina fought her way to the mob's edge, arriving just in time to see a hefty petunia-filled stone urn crash into the back of Zelgadis' head. To hell with caution, this was bad. He collapsed to his knees and Lina began a fireball. The sphere of flame had just appeared in her palm and begun to grow when the guard arrived on the scene. Zelgadis was dragged away by two guardsmen, and with much shoving and yelling of "Go home!" "Be about your business!" "Nothing to see here!" the mob was dispersed. Lina was left at the end of the now-quiet plaza, wondering "What now?"
Well, Zelgadis was out of the way now. She knew where the Philosopher's Stone was (more or less) and with a head start, she could get it long before he did and disappear into thin air until he stopped looking for it. The prospect was mind-boggling. She, Lina Inverse, already the most powerful black magic user to have surfaced for generations, the sorceress supreme, could have a Philosopher's Stone, the most powerful and most useful magical artifact there was, all to herself. With that kind of an amplifier, she'd be almost invincible. Hell, with that, she could cast Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave…. Maybe she could even throw Nightmare magic around like normal spells!
….
….
….
Aw, hell, who was she kidding? Zelgadis wasn't such a bad guy. Stuck-up and a bit of a smart-ass, but not bad. Not that being a smart-ass was all that bad either. In terms of intelligence and wit, it certainly put him worlds ahead of some of the people Lina had had to deal with. Naga for one. Besides, he was paying her, wasn't he?
Right. Things to do tonight: Break Zel out of prison.
AN – Ah, crap, I suck at these things. Never know what the hell to say. You guys who reviewed, thanks. You made my day. Hell, you guys who just read it, thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I will do my best to improve the caliber of writing as it goes along.
deleria – New chapter ought to be coming soon, if I can ever re-establish contact with my beta-reader.
Karris – Thank you for the compliments. London is fun to write because it requires a minimum of historical accuracy – now mind you, the accuracy ain't too hot here, but I think I got parts of it right at least. In any event, researching the niggly details that come to mind is entertaining.
Poetry in Motion – I'm flattered. Characterization is always the part I worry most about. Hopefully it won't crash in the last chapter or sag along the way.
Anyway, read it, read something else, have fun, do whatever the hell you want! Go on, now! Shoo! Y'know… carpe diem baby…and all that.