Zidane's Flashback:
"Oh...my goodness. Zidane, what is that thing?" Dagger's brow furrowed in confusion as she gazed at an odd rectangular box seated on the stage. It was about six feet tall – it could have easily held an average person, and there was the outline of a humanoid creature drawn on the front of it, with holes where the feet, hands and head would be.
"That box? I don't know...I think it has something to do with that guy's supposed 'magic act,'" Zidane replied, gesturing toward a poster on the wall of the tavern. The poster showed a picture of a middle-aged man with long, stringy black hair, a black moustache and goatee, and a horrible, horrible rhinestone studded cape slung about his shoulders. Beneath the picture, big friendly black letters proclaimed, 'Don't miss the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles, the world's most mysterious magician! In town for one night only.'
"I see. Does...does he lock people in there?" Dagger glanced at the poster of the man nervously.
"He might," Zidane replied absently, scanning the small room for a free table large enough to seat their entire group. "Hah!" he shouted triumphantly as one at the side of the stage came into his view. "Let's go, guys."
"Well, look at that," Steiner muttered, reading the poster intently. "That's tonight. We shall be treated to quite a show indeed."
"What's that, Steiner?" Dagger turned to face the Knight of Pluto.
"Ah, it's nothing, Your Highness."
Dagger nodded and turned to follow Zidane. Steiner headed off after them, stepping aside to let Vivi pass.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you, in town for an exclusive one-night engagement at out fine establishment, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles, the greatest magician in Gaia!"
"I'm sure," Freya murmured as the tavern owner stepped aside, pressed the play button on a nearby tape deck, and gestured with a sweeping motion of his arm to the man climbing the three steps from the floor to the stage, singing as he went,
"Oh, now, never was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr...me..."
"That's...the man from the poster, isn't it?" Zidane noted thoughtfully. "Wow...I guess when they said tonight, they really meant 'tonight.'"
"Apparently," Steiner commented. Magical Mr. Mistoffeles strode confidently across the stage, stopping in the centre. He waved to the crowd, smiling a huge, hugely cheesy smile.
"Hey there. How are all you fine folks doing this evening?"
A few unenthusiastic murmurs greeted the "magician's" question.
"Good, good! I am absolutely thrilled to be here. I can tell we're gonna have a lot of fun together, can't you?"
More unenthusiastic murmurs.
"Not all at once, now," Amarant muttered sarcastically.
"I'd feel sorry for that guy," mused Zidane, "if it weren't for that cape."
"You're right, Zidane," Freya agreed. "That cape absolves us of any obligation to feel sympathy for the man."
"Shh! I'd like to watch this," Dagger informed her table-mates. "I've never seen a magic act before!"
"Oh, come on, Dagger! You're more of a magician than this guy could ever hope to be!" Zidane protested.
"I meant that I've never seen a real fake magic act before," Dagger amended. "I think it might be very entertaining."
Zidane shrugged and turned his attention to the stage, where the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles was in the process of hammering a nail, procured from one of the pockets of the tuxedo accompanying his rhinestone-studded cape, up his nose.
"Oh, yeah," the young man commented dryly. "That's quality entertainment, alright."
"Oh, come now, Zidane," Freya admonished lightly. "Let's keep an open mind."
Zidane shrugged. 'I guess there's nothing better to do right now...other than hammer a nail up my own nose.' He turned to face the front of the tavern, where the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles was now trying desperately to find an audience volunteer to yank the nail from his nose using the other end of the hammer.
"Anyone, folks? Any adventurous spirits out there? Any doubters? This is your chance to see for yourself that I'm no fake!" the self-acclaimed magician called out. Finally, a hand shot up at the back of the tavern, and a short, dark-haired girl in white pants, tunic, and cape bounded up to the stage.
"For the sake of justice," she proclaimed proudly to the tavern, "I shall expose this fraud for what he is!"
"Hey, nice rack, sweetie!" an unidentified man called out from the crowd. More such comments, joined by cat-calls and whistles, followed. The girl's eyes filled with tears, which she angrily dashed away with the back of her hand. A decidedly angry growl, from a certain chimera that some of you may be familiar with, quickly brought the commentary on the young girl's chest to a close.
"Let's just get to it, okay?" she said grumpily to the glowing mass of rhinestone, cheesy grin, and straggly facial hair.
"Agreed," he replied, his voice rather nasal from the nail up his nose. He handed her the hammer. She flipped it over, caught the nail between the two prongs on the end, and began to pull gently, but steadily downward. The nail, covered in a coat of blood, slid out with a sickening squish sound, and landed in the girl's hand. Her response was immediate and drastic. She shrieked, hurled the nail out into the crowd, and darted from the stage, presumably to go wash her hands.
"Uh, Dagger? You okay?" Zidane murmured to the young Alexandrian ruler, who now looked rather green.
"Oh, just fine," she assured him with a shaky laugh. "It's rather fascinating, isn't it?"
"I suppose you could call it that," he agreed warily. 'Geez,' he thought, 'I wonder what this hack is gonna do next.'
"I do wonder what mystical feats the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles has for us next!" Steiner exclaimed in an unwitting paraphrase of Zidane's thoughts, leaning forward in his chair to better see the stage, and fairly glowing with excitement.
"Someone really needs to get out more," Zidane muttered to Freya, gesturing toward Steiner.
'Agreed," she replied.
"And now it is time for 'The Cabinet of Mystery!'" Mr. Mistoffeles wheeled onto the stage the large box that had so worried Dagger earlier. "First, I'll need a young lady from the audience."
Silence.
"Anyone?"
Silence.
"Anyone at all?"
The Magical Mr. Mistoffeles sighed, exasperated.
"If someone doesn't volunteer, I'll just pick someone at random," he warned, scowling.
"Hey, I'd do it," a voice called out from the crowd, laughing, "but I ain't a lady!"
Mr. M. was on the man immediately.
"Ah, but that doesn't matter at all, my dear fellow! It is just my experience that women tend to wear less loose clothing that could possibly get stuck in the..." He waved his arms in a gesture that was supposed to be mystical, but fell sadly short. "...Cabinet of Mystery."
"Okay...so, should I come up?"
"Most definitely, sir!"
With a shrug, the young man started up to the stage. He was so completely average and ordinary that I'll not waste your time on a lengthy description of him. All you need to know is that this young man contained boundless energy, made very clear in the way he bounced up to the stage and stood, noticeably vibrating, awaiting his instructions.
"Now, my good man, would you be so kind as to step into the...Cabinet of Mystery?"
"If he does that stupid arm wavey thing one more time, I'm going to take the..." Zidane waved his arms dramatically. "...Cabinet of Mystery, and throw it into a river with him locked inside!"
On stage, the jittery young man stepped inside the cabinet, which the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles shut with a muted 'click.' A continuous 'thunk' could be heard as the young man's head connected with the top of the cabinet as he bounced up and down.
Out in the audience, Dagger gasped as the magician withdrew a large, flat blade from a hook on the side of the cabinet and shoved it into a slot in the front of the cabinet...or at least, began to. He stopped abruptly as the jittery young man locked inside gave a yelp.
"Hey! That hurt!" he protested.
"Uh..." the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles began helplessly, aghast at what had almost happened. "Let's skip this one."
He unlocked the cabinet, and the bouncy young man bounced back down to his table.
"Dammit!" the magician murmured. "I had that one down cold in rehearsal!"
The he looked up and smiled brightly.
"Oh, well," he chirped. "These things happen. Now, for my next astounding feat of prestidigitation, I'll need two more audience volunteers!" The Magical Mr. M. scrutinized the crowd with bated breath. "Any takers?"
An evil smirk crossed Zidane's face. "They'll do it!" he called out, waving his arms to get the magician's attention, and then pointing to Amarant and Freya, who were simultaneously tuning out the rather atrocious act with a conversation of their own. "Pick them, cat-man!"
"Ah! Excellent!" exclaimed the aforementioned 'cat-man.' "We have a pair of brave souls! Will you folks come on up to the stage, please?"
"Uh...no," Amarant replied shortly.
"Erm...what does he want? Why is he calling us to the stage? Is it even us he's calling?" Freya murmured. The red-haired man sighed.
"He wants 'audience volunteers' for his next trick, and Zidane told him we'd do it."
"Oh! Why did Zidane tell him that?"
"Damned if I know."
"Hmmm...he isn't going away." Freya glanced up at the magician, who hovered at the edge of the stage just above their table, still waiting with a terribly pleading expression for them to join him on stage. "I hate to say it, Amarant, but I don't think we've much of a choice. Perhaps we should just go up?"
"Hmph! I don't hate to say it, but never in a million years."
"But then the poor man will be without his volunteers! He won't get to perform his magic trick!"
"Good."
"Or he might recruit some other poor souls from the audience."
"Better them than me."
"What could go wrong?"
"A man nearly had a saw shoved through his stomach. I'd rather not find out."
Freya sighed. Time for a bribe.
"If you go along with this, I promise not to speak a word to you for a week."
A silence followed.
"A whole week?"
"A whole week."
"Make it two."
"...Okay, two weeks it is."
"Fine. Let's get this over with."
Amarant climbed to his feet and hauled himself up over the edge of the stage. Freya shook her head and walked around to the steps.
"...Was that terribly necessary?" she inquired, brushing a clump of dust from his shoulder. "They do have those steps there for a reason."
"My way's easier. And anyway, woman, you promised me two weeks,"
Shrugging, she turned to the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles.
"Where do you want us?"
The Magical Mr. M. made a sweeping gesture toward two chairs, placed side by side in the center of the stage.
"Have a seat, my dear friends."
"We aren't your friends," Amarant pointed out. "We just met you. We probably still wouldn't be if we'd met you before..."
"Erm...alright. If you would please sit down, my good gentleman…"
"I'm also not your gentleman, good or bad," he informed the magician, plunking down in the chair on the left.
"Or even a gentleman at all," Freya added, taking the other chair, ignoring the stony glare she was receiving from the bounty hunter.
"Uh...very well," Mr. M. conceded, wishing desperately that he had chosen different volunteers. Perhaps that cute little dark-haired girl in white again...But, as he had chosen these two, he was determined to make the best of it. The Magical Mr. Mistoffeles prided himself on his resourcefulness.
He reached into a pocket on the inside of his cape, and withdrew a pair of handcuffs. Holding them up for all to see, he wondered uneasily if the things would even fit around that man's wrist. Adjustable or no, he didn't see how they possibly could...
"Uh...what are those?"
With a heavy sigh, the magician turned to address the source of the question. Amarant eyed the man warily, his arms crossed.
"These are handcuffs," Mr. Mistoffeles replied with a smile. "They are, in fact, the very basis of my next trick."
"Ooh! Handcuffs! Kinky!" shouted the unidentified man from the crowd that had earlier reduced the young girl to tears by commenting on her chest. This time, no catcalls, whistles, or additional comments followed. Likely the 'I-will-kill-you-if-you-make-a-single-sound-so-help-me-gods' expression on Amarant's face had something to do with it. Chuckling, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles strutted over to the two chairs, dangling the handcuffs before the noses of his unwilling 'volunteers.'
"Now," he announced, "I have here a pair of ordinary handcuffs, not altered in any way. If you will, my dear, please give me your hand."
Freya held her hand out, beating down the urge to shove the man headfirst into the cabinet 'o mystery and take off. She flinched at the click of the band of metal closing around her wrist.
"And now you, sir," the performer addressed Amarant. Heaving a long sigh, he stuck out his wrist.
"That isn't gonna fit me," he informed Mr. M. coldly. The next second, the click of a handcuff closing sounded. "Well, I'll be damned..."
"As you can see, folks, our friends are quite undeniably joined at the wrist."
He motioned for them to stand up and hold up their wrists for all to see.
"Hey, I read a book about this! Those are trick handcuffs!" a high, feminine voice called out from the crowd. All eyes darted in its direction, to behold a small, very slim girl with masses of brilliant red hair tumbling about her shoulders, stand up on her chair.
"They are not!" Mr. M. protested, his lower lip quivering slightly.
"Are too!" the girl insisted.
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not, you flat-chested little brat!" the ever-so-foolish Mr. Mistoffeles shrieked. The girl stiffened, and a dangerous expression came into her eye. Then an expression of eerie calm passed over her face as she began chanting.
"Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows – "
The girl's three companions: the dark-haired girl in white, the chimera- man, and a tall blond swordsman garbed in blue, were on their feet in an instant, herding people out of the inn, shouting "Dragon-Slave alert!!!"
"Hey...guys?" Zidane spoke up. "Do any of you get the feeling that we should get away from the table right now?"
"Yes! Let us hurry!" Steiner agreed, leaping to his feet and tucking a very indignant Vivi under his arm as he did so. Rolling his eyes, Zidane followed Steiner and Vivi out into the crowd, behind the angry red-headed girl. Dagger sprinted after them.
"Uh...what's going on?" Amarant felt the pit drop out of his stomach. Something really bad was going to happen; he could practically smell it. And it wouldn't be something dramatic, either. Likely, it would just be really stupid.
"I...I think the girl is trying to cast some sort of spell on our friend the magician," Freya replied hesitantly.
"It's not just a spell!" a voice proclaimed from behind them. They both turned to see the blond swordsman sprinting toward them. "It's the Dragon- Slave! We've gotta get you two off this stage! Quick! She's almost done!"
"DRAGON SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!!!" the girl shrieked just as the blond man dragged Amarant, who consequently dragged Freya, from the stage.
And onstage, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles – along with the key for the handcuffs – stood, frozen, watching helplessly as his moment of demise rapidly approached. One thought and one thought alone echoed across his mind:
"Oh, shiiiiiiii-"
A tremendous explosion rang out through the tavern...which promptly ceased to be a tavern. From the outside, it appeared as though a gigantic ray of energy had shot through the wall of the building, and then spread into an even more gigantic, all-encompassing fiery bubble of destruction.
Amid the pile of scrap wood that was left of the tables surrounding the stage, the late magician's volunteers struggled to remove themselves from the doggie-pile that had formed.
"...he had the key on him, didn't he?" Amarant growled.
Freya nodded mutely, an expression of utter misery on her face.
"And you asked what could possibly go wrong."
She merely nodded again, her expression becoming more nauseous by the second.
"Think there's any point searching the stage for the key?"
She shook her head.
"Yeah, I don't think so either."
Silence.
"Well? Aren't you gonna say anything?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, right. Our deal. Eh, what the hell? I don't wanna be chained to a mute, so talk away."
She sighed, moving her arm experimentally, checking for permanent damage.
"...I hate magic shows."
"Yeah, so do I."
"Could this day get any worse?"
"It can if you keep saying that."
"How did both of us manage to land on my arm?"
"One of the mysteries of the universe, rat."
"Before you call me that, remember that you have to spend an undefined amount of time with me at very close quarters."
"Oh, what're you gonna do? Talk me to death?"
"I can try."
"...Can the deal be back on?"
"No."
"Dammit."
"Oh...my goodness. Zidane, what is that thing?" Dagger's brow furrowed in confusion as she gazed at an odd rectangular box seated on the stage. It was about six feet tall – it could have easily held an average person, and there was the outline of a humanoid creature drawn on the front of it, with holes where the feet, hands and head would be.
"That box? I don't know...I think it has something to do with that guy's supposed 'magic act,'" Zidane replied, gesturing toward a poster on the wall of the tavern. The poster showed a picture of a middle-aged man with long, stringy black hair, a black moustache and goatee, and a horrible, horrible rhinestone studded cape slung about his shoulders. Beneath the picture, big friendly black letters proclaimed, 'Don't miss the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles, the world's most mysterious magician! In town for one night only.'
"I see. Does...does he lock people in there?" Dagger glanced at the poster of the man nervously.
"He might," Zidane replied absently, scanning the small room for a free table large enough to seat their entire group. "Hah!" he shouted triumphantly as one at the side of the stage came into his view. "Let's go, guys."
"Well, look at that," Steiner muttered, reading the poster intently. "That's tonight. We shall be treated to quite a show indeed."
"What's that, Steiner?" Dagger turned to face the Knight of Pluto.
"Ah, it's nothing, Your Highness."
Dagger nodded and turned to follow Zidane. Steiner headed off after them, stepping aside to let Vivi pass.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you, in town for an exclusive one-night engagement at out fine establishment, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles, the greatest magician in Gaia!"
"I'm sure," Freya murmured as the tavern owner stepped aside, pressed the play button on a nearby tape deck, and gestured with a sweeping motion of his arm to the man climbing the three steps from the floor to the stage, singing as he went,
"Oh, now, never was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr...me..."
"That's...the man from the poster, isn't it?" Zidane noted thoughtfully. "Wow...I guess when they said tonight, they really meant 'tonight.'"
"Apparently," Steiner commented. Magical Mr. Mistoffeles strode confidently across the stage, stopping in the centre. He waved to the crowd, smiling a huge, hugely cheesy smile.
"Hey there. How are all you fine folks doing this evening?"
A few unenthusiastic murmurs greeted the "magician's" question.
"Good, good! I am absolutely thrilled to be here. I can tell we're gonna have a lot of fun together, can't you?"
More unenthusiastic murmurs.
"Not all at once, now," Amarant muttered sarcastically.
"I'd feel sorry for that guy," mused Zidane, "if it weren't for that cape."
"You're right, Zidane," Freya agreed. "That cape absolves us of any obligation to feel sympathy for the man."
"Shh! I'd like to watch this," Dagger informed her table-mates. "I've never seen a magic act before!"
"Oh, come on, Dagger! You're more of a magician than this guy could ever hope to be!" Zidane protested.
"I meant that I've never seen a real fake magic act before," Dagger amended. "I think it might be very entertaining."
Zidane shrugged and turned his attention to the stage, where the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles was in the process of hammering a nail, procured from one of the pockets of the tuxedo accompanying his rhinestone-studded cape, up his nose.
"Oh, yeah," the young man commented dryly. "That's quality entertainment, alright."
"Oh, come now, Zidane," Freya admonished lightly. "Let's keep an open mind."
Zidane shrugged. 'I guess there's nothing better to do right now...other than hammer a nail up my own nose.' He turned to face the front of the tavern, where the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles was now trying desperately to find an audience volunteer to yank the nail from his nose using the other end of the hammer.
"Anyone, folks? Any adventurous spirits out there? Any doubters? This is your chance to see for yourself that I'm no fake!" the self-acclaimed magician called out. Finally, a hand shot up at the back of the tavern, and a short, dark-haired girl in white pants, tunic, and cape bounded up to the stage.
"For the sake of justice," she proclaimed proudly to the tavern, "I shall expose this fraud for what he is!"
"Hey, nice rack, sweetie!" an unidentified man called out from the crowd. More such comments, joined by cat-calls and whistles, followed. The girl's eyes filled with tears, which she angrily dashed away with the back of her hand. A decidedly angry growl, from a certain chimera that some of you may be familiar with, quickly brought the commentary on the young girl's chest to a close.
"Let's just get to it, okay?" she said grumpily to the glowing mass of rhinestone, cheesy grin, and straggly facial hair.
"Agreed," he replied, his voice rather nasal from the nail up his nose. He handed her the hammer. She flipped it over, caught the nail between the two prongs on the end, and began to pull gently, but steadily downward. The nail, covered in a coat of blood, slid out with a sickening squish sound, and landed in the girl's hand. Her response was immediate and drastic. She shrieked, hurled the nail out into the crowd, and darted from the stage, presumably to go wash her hands.
"Uh, Dagger? You okay?" Zidane murmured to the young Alexandrian ruler, who now looked rather green.
"Oh, just fine," she assured him with a shaky laugh. "It's rather fascinating, isn't it?"
"I suppose you could call it that," he agreed warily. 'Geez,' he thought, 'I wonder what this hack is gonna do next.'
"I do wonder what mystical feats the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles has for us next!" Steiner exclaimed in an unwitting paraphrase of Zidane's thoughts, leaning forward in his chair to better see the stage, and fairly glowing with excitement.
"Someone really needs to get out more," Zidane muttered to Freya, gesturing toward Steiner.
'Agreed," she replied.
"And now it is time for 'The Cabinet of Mystery!'" Mr. Mistoffeles wheeled onto the stage the large box that had so worried Dagger earlier. "First, I'll need a young lady from the audience."
Silence.
"Anyone?"
Silence.
"Anyone at all?"
The Magical Mr. Mistoffeles sighed, exasperated.
"If someone doesn't volunteer, I'll just pick someone at random," he warned, scowling.
"Hey, I'd do it," a voice called out from the crowd, laughing, "but I ain't a lady!"
Mr. M. was on the man immediately.
"Ah, but that doesn't matter at all, my dear fellow! It is just my experience that women tend to wear less loose clothing that could possibly get stuck in the..." He waved his arms in a gesture that was supposed to be mystical, but fell sadly short. "...Cabinet of Mystery."
"Okay...so, should I come up?"
"Most definitely, sir!"
With a shrug, the young man started up to the stage. He was so completely average and ordinary that I'll not waste your time on a lengthy description of him. All you need to know is that this young man contained boundless energy, made very clear in the way he bounced up to the stage and stood, noticeably vibrating, awaiting his instructions.
"Now, my good man, would you be so kind as to step into the...Cabinet of Mystery?"
"If he does that stupid arm wavey thing one more time, I'm going to take the..." Zidane waved his arms dramatically. "...Cabinet of Mystery, and throw it into a river with him locked inside!"
On stage, the jittery young man stepped inside the cabinet, which the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles shut with a muted 'click.' A continuous 'thunk' could be heard as the young man's head connected with the top of the cabinet as he bounced up and down.
Out in the audience, Dagger gasped as the magician withdrew a large, flat blade from a hook on the side of the cabinet and shoved it into a slot in the front of the cabinet...or at least, began to. He stopped abruptly as the jittery young man locked inside gave a yelp.
"Hey! That hurt!" he protested.
"Uh..." the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles began helplessly, aghast at what had almost happened. "Let's skip this one."
He unlocked the cabinet, and the bouncy young man bounced back down to his table.
"Dammit!" the magician murmured. "I had that one down cold in rehearsal!"
The he looked up and smiled brightly.
"Oh, well," he chirped. "These things happen. Now, for my next astounding feat of prestidigitation, I'll need two more audience volunteers!" The Magical Mr. M. scrutinized the crowd with bated breath. "Any takers?"
An evil smirk crossed Zidane's face. "They'll do it!" he called out, waving his arms to get the magician's attention, and then pointing to Amarant and Freya, who were simultaneously tuning out the rather atrocious act with a conversation of their own. "Pick them, cat-man!"
"Ah! Excellent!" exclaimed the aforementioned 'cat-man.' "We have a pair of brave souls! Will you folks come on up to the stage, please?"
"Uh...no," Amarant replied shortly.
"Erm...what does he want? Why is he calling us to the stage? Is it even us he's calling?" Freya murmured. The red-haired man sighed.
"He wants 'audience volunteers' for his next trick, and Zidane told him we'd do it."
"Oh! Why did Zidane tell him that?"
"Damned if I know."
"Hmmm...he isn't going away." Freya glanced up at the magician, who hovered at the edge of the stage just above their table, still waiting with a terribly pleading expression for them to join him on stage. "I hate to say it, Amarant, but I don't think we've much of a choice. Perhaps we should just go up?"
"Hmph! I don't hate to say it, but never in a million years."
"But then the poor man will be without his volunteers! He won't get to perform his magic trick!"
"Good."
"Or he might recruit some other poor souls from the audience."
"Better them than me."
"What could go wrong?"
"A man nearly had a saw shoved through his stomach. I'd rather not find out."
Freya sighed. Time for a bribe.
"If you go along with this, I promise not to speak a word to you for a week."
A silence followed.
"A whole week?"
"A whole week."
"Make it two."
"...Okay, two weeks it is."
"Fine. Let's get this over with."
Amarant climbed to his feet and hauled himself up over the edge of the stage. Freya shook her head and walked around to the steps.
"...Was that terribly necessary?" she inquired, brushing a clump of dust from his shoulder. "They do have those steps there for a reason."
"My way's easier. And anyway, woman, you promised me two weeks,"
Shrugging, she turned to the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles.
"Where do you want us?"
The Magical Mr. M. made a sweeping gesture toward two chairs, placed side by side in the center of the stage.
"Have a seat, my dear friends."
"We aren't your friends," Amarant pointed out. "We just met you. We probably still wouldn't be if we'd met you before..."
"Erm...alright. If you would please sit down, my good gentleman…"
"I'm also not your gentleman, good or bad," he informed the magician, plunking down in the chair on the left.
"Or even a gentleman at all," Freya added, taking the other chair, ignoring the stony glare she was receiving from the bounty hunter.
"Uh...very well," Mr. M. conceded, wishing desperately that he had chosen different volunteers. Perhaps that cute little dark-haired girl in white again...But, as he had chosen these two, he was determined to make the best of it. The Magical Mr. Mistoffeles prided himself on his resourcefulness.
He reached into a pocket on the inside of his cape, and withdrew a pair of handcuffs. Holding them up for all to see, he wondered uneasily if the things would even fit around that man's wrist. Adjustable or no, he didn't see how they possibly could...
"Uh...what are those?"
With a heavy sigh, the magician turned to address the source of the question. Amarant eyed the man warily, his arms crossed.
"These are handcuffs," Mr. Mistoffeles replied with a smile. "They are, in fact, the very basis of my next trick."
"Ooh! Handcuffs! Kinky!" shouted the unidentified man from the crowd that had earlier reduced the young girl to tears by commenting on her chest. This time, no catcalls, whistles, or additional comments followed. Likely the 'I-will-kill-you-if-you-make-a-single-sound-so-help-me-gods' expression on Amarant's face had something to do with it. Chuckling, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles strutted over to the two chairs, dangling the handcuffs before the noses of his unwilling 'volunteers.'
"Now," he announced, "I have here a pair of ordinary handcuffs, not altered in any way. If you will, my dear, please give me your hand."
Freya held her hand out, beating down the urge to shove the man headfirst into the cabinet 'o mystery and take off. She flinched at the click of the band of metal closing around her wrist.
"And now you, sir," the performer addressed Amarant. Heaving a long sigh, he stuck out his wrist.
"That isn't gonna fit me," he informed Mr. M. coldly. The next second, the click of a handcuff closing sounded. "Well, I'll be damned..."
"As you can see, folks, our friends are quite undeniably joined at the wrist."
He motioned for them to stand up and hold up their wrists for all to see.
"Hey, I read a book about this! Those are trick handcuffs!" a high, feminine voice called out from the crowd. All eyes darted in its direction, to behold a small, very slim girl with masses of brilliant red hair tumbling about her shoulders, stand up on her chair.
"They are not!" Mr. M. protested, his lower lip quivering slightly.
"Are too!" the girl insisted.
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not, you flat-chested little brat!" the ever-so-foolish Mr. Mistoffeles shrieked. The girl stiffened, and a dangerous expression came into her eye. Then an expression of eerie calm passed over her face as she began chanting.
"Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows – "
The girl's three companions: the dark-haired girl in white, the chimera- man, and a tall blond swordsman garbed in blue, were on their feet in an instant, herding people out of the inn, shouting "Dragon-Slave alert!!!"
"Hey...guys?" Zidane spoke up. "Do any of you get the feeling that we should get away from the table right now?"
"Yes! Let us hurry!" Steiner agreed, leaping to his feet and tucking a very indignant Vivi under his arm as he did so. Rolling his eyes, Zidane followed Steiner and Vivi out into the crowd, behind the angry red-headed girl. Dagger sprinted after them.
"Uh...what's going on?" Amarant felt the pit drop out of his stomach. Something really bad was going to happen; he could practically smell it. And it wouldn't be something dramatic, either. Likely, it would just be really stupid.
"I...I think the girl is trying to cast some sort of spell on our friend the magician," Freya replied hesitantly.
"It's not just a spell!" a voice proclaimed from behind them. They both turned to see the blond swordsman sprinting toward them. "It's the Dragon- Slave! We've gotta get you two off this stage! Quick! She's almost done!"
"DRAGON SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!!!" the girl shrieked just as the blond man dragged Amarant, who consequently dragged Freya, from the stage.
And onstage, the Magical Mr. Mistoffeles – along with the key for the handcuffs – stood, frozen, watching helplessly as his moment of demise rapidly approached. One thought and one thought alone echoed across his mind:
"Oh, shiiiiiiii-"
A tremendous explosion rang out through the tavern...which promptly ceased to be a tavern. From the outside, it appeared as though a gigantic ray of energy had shot through the wall of the building, and then spread into an even more gigantic, all-encompassing fiery bubble of destruction.
Amid the pile of scrap wood that was left of the tables surrounding the stage, the late magician's volunteers struggled to remove themselves from the doggie-pile that had formed.
"...he had the key on him, didn't he?" Amarant growled.
Freya nodded mutely, an expression of utter misery on her face.
"And you asked what could possibly go wrong."
She merely nodded again, her expression becoming more nauseous by the second.
"Think there's any point searching the stage for the key?"
She shook her head.
"Yeah, I don't think so either."
Silence.
"Well? Aren't you gonna say anything?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, right. Our deal. Eh, what the hell? I don't wanna be chained to a mute, so talk away."
She sighed, moving her arm experimentally, checking for permanent damage.
"...I hate magic shows."
"Yeah, so do I."
"Could this day get any worse?"
"It can if you keep saying that."
"How did both of us manage to land on my arm?"
"One of the mysteries of the universe, rat."
"Before you call me that, remember that you have to spend an undefined amount of time with me at very close quarters."
"Oh, what're you gonna do? Talk me to death?"
"I can try."
"...Can the deal be back on?"
"No."
"Dammit."