Chapter 2
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Notes: Well! I suppose Magus/Lucca it is. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and for your opinions. They were very helpful. I think that only an inspiration for an absolutely perfect Frog/Lucca scene could change it now (or if I decide that I really like the name-crunchie of 'Log' ^_^).
Oh, and before I forget again, I didn't mention this in the first disclaimer, but I don't own the Jellicles, who kind of elbowed themselves into the story whether or not I wanted them there. They are owned by T.S. Elliot, I think, and to some extent, Andrew Lloyd Webber, who chose to write a musical about them. Well, about the poems by Elliot, at any rate.
Anyway, the point is that I don't own them, and I'm glad. I would hate to be known as the person who came up with the concept of having grown men and women put on spandex, six pounds of face paint, tails, and then wrap their legs around their heads.
That, I believe, would make me even sicker than I already am. ^_^
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The following evening at exactly 6:58, not a moment sooner or later, Lucca let the heavy iron knocker fall back into place onto the front door of Magus' evil fortress. As a deafening boom rang out through the air, she clutched the book in her left arm and the bag of Cheezies in her right more tightly, wondering, not for the first time, if this was such a good idea.
Sure, she'd been very, very bored recently, and it had been an awfully nice book that Magus had given her - 'How to Become an Evil Villain: 12-Step Program' - but was turning against everything good and decent in the world really the way to deal with it? If she did this, she would be required to fight against Crono and Marle. After all, Crono had become rather addicted to heroism since their defeat of Lavos, and had since been able to sniff out an evil villain, and the opportunity to show of his swordsmanship, from miles away. Was this really what she wanted: to fight against her best friend? Wouldn't it be better to start an orphanage, or something else all human-interesty like that?
Just as she was about to turn away to go home and give the matter more thought, the door swung open.
"Hello, Lucca," Magus greeted, smirking down at her. Ah, hadn't he known that she would come!
"H-hey, Magus," she replied, bidding her chance at freedom a sad farewell. "I brought your book back."
"Oh, that was a gift to you. I think you might be able to make good use of it."
"Oh! Well, thanks. Although, there are a few things I disagree with in here. Like, why is it necessary to explain your nefarious scheme to your enemies BEFORE destroying them?"
"Well, because after you destroy them, they're dead," he replied patiently. "And they can't seethe silently and bitterly at your brilliance and their failure if they're dead."
"Alright. I guess that makes sense," she shrugged as he stepped aside to let her in.
"We can discuss the rest of the book later, if you'd like," he called over his shoulder as he led her down a dimly lit corridor. "For now, though, we have a big task ahead of us: planning your career."
"My...career. Isn't it just to be evil?"
"Lucca, Lucca, Lucca," he sighed sadly. "There is SO much more to it than 'to be evil.' First, you need motivation. Do you have motivation?"
"Because you told me to," she replied immediately. "And you bribed me with a book."
Magus sighed, coming to a halt in the dimly lit hallway.
"You see? We have a lot of work to do."
"A really, really cool book."
"A LOT of work."
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"Any luck yet, Crono?" Marle demanded, striding into his study, or, as he had taken to calling it, his 'Secret Hero Lair.'
Crono, his expression grave, stood up from behind the desk and began to answer, but was cut off my Marle, who rushed on.
"This is so terrible! A new threat to the planet! And here we are, with no idea who it is!"
Crono waved frantically, but Marle was oblivious.
"I hate when this sort of thing happens! I keep trying to ask Munkustrap and Victoria, but Munkustrap just keeps looking scared and then telling me that 'friendship is nothing in the face of a struggle between good and evil,' and that I must 'put aside all such ties.' And as for Victoria, well, she just keeps batting the tassel on the end of the draperies!"
Crono shook his head in despair.
"You're right, Crono!" Marle proclaimed, striking a dramatic pose. "It doesn't matter who the villain is! If we are truly heroes, then we shall find the villain wherever he may lurk!"
The young redheaded man looked quite offended. Recalling their last argument, and how long he had gone on and on about the topic, Marle hastened to correct her statement.
"Wherever he or she may lurk," she amended sheepishly. After all, if Crono got talking again, she'd NEVER be able to shut him up! She'd never seen such a talkative man!
Crono nodded, satisfied. Then he sighed. How to best make his radiant and lovely, but incredibly dense wife understand what he had recently found out? Suddenly, as a wig of purple hair styled in a chin-length bob caught his eye, a little light bulb appeared above his head.
Darting across the room, he snatched up the wig, shoved it on his head, and began shooting at imaginary targets with an imaginary gun.
Marle giggled.
"Crono, you're so silly!"
Crono gestured frantically. Marle frowned as she sank into a high-backed leather chair.
"Wait a second...you're trying to tell me something, aren't you?"
Nodding frantically, the young man redoubled his efforts to take down those darned imaginary monsters flying about.
"Good idea, Crono! I'll send a message to Lucca right now about what's going on! I'm sure she'll want to be a hero again, too!"
And with that, Marle leapt to her feet and bolted from the room, leaving Crono wearing a purple wig and looking rather foolish as a young custodian made his way into the room. Catching sight of the prince consort topped with a mop of purple, he stared for a moment in frightened awe, and then began to back away slowly, only to knock into the young Guardian queen, who chose just that moment to poke her head back into the room.
"Oh, excuse me, Pierre," she beamed at the young man, who smiled bewilderedly back. "Crono, when I get back, we can start making plans, alright? Of course, we'll both need costumes. I think you'll look adorable in the spandex!"
And so she disappeared from the room again, followed by the young custodian, Pierre, who reflected that he'd had quite enough of the insanity that life in Guardia Castle tended to be, and that he was going to see if the circus needed any extra help.
At least he might get some sense of normalcy there!
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"Magus, where do you find these places?" Lucca demanded, staring in bewilderment at the massive catalogue he had just dropped with a resounding thud onto the heavy oak table in front of her. "'Baddies: Today's Favourite Evil Villain Retailers,'" she read slowly.
"The owner of the chain is a good friend of mine," Magus told her casually, glancing sideways to see if she were properly impressed. "I should be able to get a discount."
"Well, that's something, at least," she grumbled.
"Hey, even a five-percent discount on an acid vat costing ten thousand gold pieces regular price is going to save you five hundred gold pieces."
"Ten thousand?!" she screeched. "Geez, Magus, how much do you think babysitting and mechanical repairs pay in Truce?"
"And with those five hundred, you can buy an awfully sharp-looking evil villain costume," he rushed on, seeming not to have heard her.
"Costume?" she repeated, voice low and ominous. "No one told me anything about a costume."
Magus sighed and put an arm around her.
"You skipped Chapter Seven, didn't you?"
"What chapter was that?"
"'Dressing For Success: That Elusive Air of Menace,'" he replied.
"Oh, yeah. That looked boring," she said, wrinkling her nose and reaching for the large iron pot of Cheezies.
"Well, then we'll just take some time out of the budgeting to discuss wardrobe," he told her inexorably.
"But I don't wanna!" she whined.
"A good first impression is important."
"Can't I just do it with a speech or something?"
"No! You have to dress properly!"
"What's wrong with this?" she demanded, gesturing to her typical garb of black shorts, green sweatshirt, and orange smock.
"That?" he scoffed, idly picking a Cheezie out of the pot and reaching for his goblet of Mountain Dew. "Where do I begin? First of all, aside from the fact that the colours clash horribly-"
"Hey, I like green and orange!"
"Green might be alright in touches, but orange is far too upbeat for an evil villainess. And not only that, the style just screams, 'cute brainy team-mate,'" he finished with a shudder.
"I think it's sickening, the emphasis that people put on clothes," Lucca said airily, reaching for her own goblet, and then grimacing as she took a sip. "Where did you get this stuff, anyway?"
"The fabled Market of Anachronism," he replied. "I picked that up for an awfully good price, too."
She peered closely at the furry little creature seated on the mantle that he was gesturing to.
"Uh...what is it?"
"A little robotic dog," he said. "Its name is Mr. Woofy, and when you turn it on, it hops a little, barks, and does a back flip."
"And I'm taking lessons from YOU on how to be menacing?" she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses.
"Do not disparage my flippy-dog," he growled, gripping her collar and dragging her closer until they were nose-to-nose. Unfortunately, as he did so, her arm flew out as she gave a startled shriek, and knocked directly into his badly-placed goblet.
"Oh, no! The magazine is getting all wet and sticky!" he moaned in despair, carefully picking the catalogue out of the puddle of Mountain Dew.
"I'll clean it up," Lucca sighed, climbing to her feet and starting out of the room.
"No, you sit down and start planning your evil hideout," Magus ordered, dragging her back to her chair and handing her the catalogue. "I'll clean it up."
"Yeah; it WAS your fault, anyway," the inventor huffed.
Magus beamed. Or rather, smiled slightly in faint satisfaction. Beaming by comparison with his ordinary expression.
"Well, it's good to see that you absorbed something from my gift."
"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.
"The art of blaming others for everything. Remember, Lucca, nothing is ever your fault when you're an evil villain. It's your parents' fault because they didn't hug you enough, or your schoolteacher's fault because he didn't let you be on the soccer team, or your schoolmates' fault because they made fun of you. In a pinch, you can simply blame the whole world because it never treated you fairly."
Lucca blinked several times.
"I just meant that this really was your fault. You grabbed me, after all."
"It was not! It was my mother's fault for instilling psychotically violent tendencies in me at a young age!"
"Uh...yeah. This book really is your bible, isn't it?"
"And it will become yours," Magus announced grandly as he swept from the room.
"Right," Lucca sighed as she flipped absently through the catalogue. "Somehow, I don't think this guy has all his oars in the water." Then she stopped and stared in disbelief at the page in front of her. "They're selling the RACK in here?!"
"Always a good investment," Magus noted as he re-entered the room, nodding with approval. "Although, you have to make sure you don't settle for the old, rusty iron ones. They tend to stop working right at the breaking point, and although it is fun to hear your victim screaming out in prolonged agony, it's massively irritating to have to go searching for an oilcan. It just doesn't present a very professional last impression."
"Magus..." Lucca began, shaking her head helplessly. "What happened to you? Have you always been like this?"
"Like what?" Magus asked, honestly bewildered, as he approached the table and wiped up the spilled Mountain Dew before tossing the rag into the large stone fireplace.
"Never mind," she sighed, rolling her eyes as a spark leapt up from the fireplace and caught on Mr. Woofy's fur, sending the small toy up in flames.
"Ah, well," Magus shrugged, eyeing the charred remnants of the flippy-dog. "You win some, you lose some."
"And I guess that's a crucial attitude to have when pursuing a career in evil villainy?" Lucca asked sarcastically.
He nodded, smirking proudly.
"You'll be a student worthy of my skill."
Lucca raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult..."
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End Notes: Eheh...well, the conversation about the rack wasn't really supposed to happen, but I'm pretty proud of the rest of this chapter. And I think I'm probably just going to go with Magus/Lucca this story and save my Lucca/Frog urges for a different tale. ^_^
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Notes: Well! I suppose Magus/Lucca it is. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and for your opinions. They were very helpful. I think that only an inspiration for an absolutely perfect Frog/Lucca scene could change it now (or if I decide that I really like the name-crunchie of 'Log' ^_^).
Oh, and before I forget again, I didn't mention this in the first disclaimer, but I don't own the Jellicles, who kind of elbowed themselves into the story whether or not I wanted them there. They are owned by T.S. Elliot, I think, and to some extent, Andrew Lloyd Webber, who chose to write a musical about them. Well, about the poems by Elliot, at any rate.
Anyway, the point is that I don't own them, and I'm glad. I would hate to be known as the person who came up with the concept of having grown men and women put on spandex, six pounds of face paint, tails, and then wrap their legs around their heads.
That, I believe, would make me even sicker than I already am. ^_^
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The following evening at exactly 6:58, not a moment sooner or later, Lucca let the heavy iron knocker fall back into place onto the front door of Magus' evil fortress. As a deafening boom rang out through the air, she clutched the book in her left arm and the bag of Cheezies in her right more tightly, wondering, not for the first time, if this was such a good idea.
Sure, she'd been very, very bored recently, and it had been an awfully nice book that Magus had given her - 'How to Become an Evil Villain: 12-Step Program' - but was turning against everything good and decent in the world really the way to deal with it? If she did this, she would be required to fight against Crono and Marle. After all, Crono had become rather addicted to heroism since their defeat of Lavos, and had since been able to sniff out an evil villain, and the opportunity to show of his swordsmanship, from miles away. Was this really what she wanted: to fight against her best friend? Wouldn't it be better to start an orphanage, or something else all human-interesty like that?
Just as she was about to turn away to go home and give the matter more thought, the door swung open.
"Hello, Lucca," Magus greeted, smirking down at her. Ah, hadn't he known that she would come!
"H-hey, Magus," she replied, bidding her chance at freedom a sad farewell. "I brought your book back."
"Oh, that was a gift to you. I think you might be able to make good use of it."
"Oh! Well, thanks. Although, there are a few things I disagree with in here. Like, why is it necessary to explain your nefarious scheme to your enemies BEFORE destroying them?"
"Well, because after you destroy them, they're dead," he replied patiently. "And they can't seethe silently and bitterly at your brilliance and their failure if they're dead."
"Alright. I guess that makes sense," she shrugged as he stepped aside to let her in.
"We can discuss the rest of the book later, if you'd like," he called over his shoulder as he led her down a dimly lit corridor. "For now, though, we have a big task ahead of us: planning your career."
"My...career. Isn't it just to be evil?"
"Lucca, Lucca, Lucca," he sighed sadly. "There is SO much more to it than 'to be evil.' First, you need motivation. Do you have motivation?"
"Because you told me to," she replied immediately. "And you bribed me with a book."
Magus sighed, coming to a halt in the dimly lit hallway.
"You see? We have a lot of work to do."
"A really, really cool book."
"A LOT of work."
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"Any luck yet, Crono?" Marle demanded, striding into his study, or, as he had taken to calling it, his 'Secret Hero Lair.'
Crono, his expression grave, stood up from behind the desk and began to answer, but was cut off my Marle, who rushed on.
"This is so terrible! A new threat to the planet! And here we are, with no idea who it is!"
Crono waved frantically, but Marle was oblivious.
"I hate when this sort of thing happens! I keep trying to ask Munkustrap and Victoria, but Munkustrap just keeps looking scared and then telling me that 'friendship is nothing in the face of a struggle between good and evil,' and that I must 'put aside all such ties.' And as for Victoria, well, she just keeps batting the tassel on the end of the draperies!"
Crono shook his head in despair.
"You're right, Crono!" Marle proclaimed, striking a dramatic pose. "It doesn't matter who the villain is! If we are truly heroes, then we shall find the villain wherever he may lurk!"
The young redheaded man looked quite offended. Recalling their last argument, and how long he had gone on and on about the topic, Marle hastened to correct her statement.
"Wherever he or she may lurk," she amended sheepishly. After all, if Crono got talking again, she'd NEVER be able to shut him up! She'd never seen such a talkative man!
Crono nodded, satisfied. Then he sighed. How to best make his radiant and lovely, but incredibly dense wife understand what he had recently found out? Suddenly, as a wig of purple hair styled in a chin-length bob caught his eye, a little light bulb appeared above his head.
Darting across the room, he snatched up the wig, shoved it on his head, and began shooting at imaginary targets with an imaginary gun.
Marle giggled.
"Crono, you're so silly!"
Crono gestured frantically. Marle frowned as she sank into a high-backed leather chair.
"Wait a second...you're trying to tell me something, aren't you?"
Nodding frantically, the young man redoubled his efforts to take down those darned imaginary monsters flying about.
"Good idea, Crono! I'll send a message to Lucca right now about what's going on! I'm sure she'll want to be a hero again, too!"
And with that, Marle leapt to her feet and bolted from the room, leaving Crono wearing a purple wig and looking rather foolish as a young custodian made his way into the room. Catching sight of the prince consort topped with a mop of purple, he stared for a moment in frightened awe, and then began to back away slowly, only to knock into the young Guardian queen, who chose just that moment to poke her head back into the room.
"Oh, excuse me, Pierre," she beamed at the young man, who smiled bewilderedly back. "Crono, when I get back, we can start making plans, alright? Of course, we'll both need costumes. I think you'll look adorable in the spandex!"
And so she disappeared from the room again, followed by the young custodian, Pierre, who reflected that he'd had quite enough of the insanity that life in Guardia Castle tended to be, and that he was going to see if the circus needed any extra help.
At least he might get some sense of normalcy there!
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"Magus, where do you find these places?" Lucca demanded, staring in bewilderment at the massive catalogue he had just dropped with a resounding thud onto the heavy oak table in front of her. "'Baddies: Today's Favourite Evil Villain Retailers,'" she read slowly.
"The owner of the chain is a good friend of mine," Magus told her casually, glancing sideways to see if she were properly impressed. "I should be able to get a discount."
"Well, that's something, at least," she grumbled.
"Hey, even a five-percent discount on an acid vat costing ten thousand gold pieces regular price is going to save you five hundred gold pieces."
"Ten thousand?!" she screeched. "Geez, Magus, how much do you think babysitting and mechanical repairs pay in Truce?"
"And with those five hundred, you can buy an awfully sharp-looking evil villain costume," he rushed on, seeming not to have heard her.
"Costume?" she repeated, voice low and ominous. "No one told me anything about a costume."
Magus sighed and put an arm around her.
"You skipped Chapter Seven, didn't you?"
"What chapter was that?"
"'Dressing For Success: That Elusive Air of Menace,'" he replied.
"Oh, yeah. That looked boring," she said, wrinkling her nose and reaching for the large iron pot of Cheezies.
"Well, then we'll just take some time out of the budgeting to discuss wardrobe," he told her inexorably.
"But I don't wanna!" she whined.
"A good first impression is important."
"Can't I just do it with a speech or something?"
"No! You have to dress properly!"
"What's wrong with this?" she demanded, gesturing to her typical garb of black shorts, green sweatshirt, and orange smock.
"That?" he scoffed, idly picking a Cheezie out of the pot and reaching for his goblet of Mountain Dew. "Where do I begin? First of all, aside from the fact that the colours clash horribly-"
"Hey, I like green and orange!"
"Green might be alright in touches, but orange is far too upbeat for an evil villainess. And not only that, the style just screams, 'cute brainy team-mate,'" he finished with a shudder.
"I think it's sickening, the emphasis that people put on clothes," Lucca said airily, reaching for her own goblet, and then grimacing as she took a sip. "Where did you get this stuff, anyway?"
"The fabled Market of Anachronism," he replied. "I picked that up for an awfully good price, too."
She peered closely at the furry little creature seated on the mantle that he was gesturing to.
"Uh...what is it?"
"A little robotic dog," he said. "Its name is Mr. Woofy, and when you turn it on, it hops a little, barks, and does a back flip."
"And I'm taking lessons from YOU on how to be menacing?" she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses.
"Do not disparage my flippy-dog," he growled, gripping her collar and dragging her closer until they were nose-to-nose. Unfortunately, as he did so, her arm flew out as she gave a startled shriek, and knocked directly into his badly-placed goblet.
"Oh, no! The magazine is getting all wet and sticky!" he moaned in despair, carefully picking the catalogue out of the puddle of Mountain Dew.
"I'll clean it up," Lucca sighed, climbing to her feet and starting out of the room.
"No, you sit down and start planning your evil hideout," Magus ordered, dragging her back to her chair and handing her the catalogue. "I'll clean it up."
"Yeah; it WAS your fault, anyway," the inventor huffed.
Magus beamed. Or rather, smiled slightly in faint satisfaction. Beaming by comparison with his ordinary expression.
"Well, it's good to see that you absorbed something from my gift."
"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.
"The art of blaming others for everything. Remember, Lucca, nothing is ever your fault when you're an evil villain. It's your parents' fault because they didn't hug you enough, or your schoolteacher's fault because he didn't let you be on the soccer team, or your schoolmates' fault because they made fun of you. In a pinch, you can simply blame the whole world because it never treated you fairly."
Lucca blinked several times.
"I just meant that this really was your fault. You grabbed me, after all."
"It was not! It was my mother's fault for instilling psychotically violent tendencies in me at a young age!"
"Uh...yeah. This book really is your bible, isn't it?"
"And it will become yours," Magus announced grandly as he swept from the room.
"Right," Lucca sighed as she flipped absently through the catalogue. "Somehow, I don't think this guy has all his oars in the water." Then she stopped and stared in disbelief at the page in front of her. "They're selling the RACK in here?!"
"Always a good investment," Magus noted as he re-entered the room, nodding with approval. "Although, you have to make sure you don't settle for the old, rusty iron ones. They tend to stop working right at the breaking point, and although it is fun to hear your victim screaming out in prolonged agony, it's massively irritating to have to go searching for an oilcan. It just doesn't present a very professional last impression."
"Magus..." Lucca began, shaking her head helplessly. "What happened to you? Have you always been like this?"
"Like what?" Magus asked, honestly bewildered, as he approached the table and wiped up the spilled Mountain Dew before tossing the rag into the large stone fireplace.
"Never mind," she sighed, rolling her eyes as a spark leapt up from the fireplace and caught on Mr. Woofy's fur, sending the small toy up in flames.
"Ah, well," Magus shrugged, eyeing the charred remnants of the flippy-dog. "You win some, you lose some."
"And I guess that's a crucial attitude to have when pursuing a career in evil villainy?" Lucca asked sarcastically.
He nodded, smirking proudly.
"You'll be a student worthy of my skill."
Lucca raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult..."
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End Notes: Eheh...well, the conversation about the rack wasn't really supposed to happen, but I'm pretty proud of the rest of this chapter. And I think I'm probably just going to go with Magus/Lucca this story and save my Lucca/Frog urges for a different tale. ^_^