Chapter 6: And Furthermore, Shut up!
------------------------------------------
"Will you hurry up?!"
Magus regarded the source of the very annoyed question, calmly.
"I prefer to walk. It's much more dignified than scampering like that."
"Oh, great. Let's see how much your "dignity" helps you when we're back in prison."
"I think you know that won't happen."
"Of course not," Lucca scoffed. "I'd be back in prison, and you'd be running home to your security blankie."
"I do not have a blankie," he said icily. "It's a cape."
"Whatever! Will you just hurry?! Do that stupid floating trick, or something."
"Lucca, I am trying to cultivate in you the proper villain conduct. What if we ran into another evil team? You would be out of breath, sweaty, hair all mussed up…" Here, he trailed off.
Lucca blinked, noticing that the world had become a much less annoying place for her, and thus concluding that Magus had either left or stopped talking.
"Uh, Magus?"
"Hmm? What?" he asked innocently, surreptitiously wiping a thin trail of drool from the corner of his mouth and banishing some rather enticing mental images of the girl at his side in just such a dishevelled state, and a decided lack of clothing due to the things he had been doing to her in the mental images to get her into that state.
She rolled her eyes.
"Never mind. I'm sure if I knew, it would just creep me out."
He gave an annoyed grumble.
"So, explain to me one more time why we couldn't take the Epoch all the way to your house."
Lucca laughed.
"You've obviously never met my dad."
"Actually, I have. He's the one with the moustache who keeps calling me Janet, right?"
"Dad's weird," she noted, shaking her head sadly.
"It obviously hasn't skipped a generation, either."
"What was that, Janet?" she grinned. "Anyway, we can't take the Epoch to my house because, although Dad is completely oblivious most of the time, if you put a machine in front of him, he suddenly wakes up. And I don't want him asking any questions. I've had a hard enough time getting Mom squared away."
"So, this explains why we've taken the Epoch into the forest and hidden it behind a tree?" Magus asked sarcastically. "I leave it to your conscience if some idiot child finds it and accidentally removes himself from existence."
"Oh, that couldn't happen," Lucca said easily. "Even if a kid found it, time is still forward-moving."
"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to lead to a headache?"
"Well, think about it. Did we ever run into alternate, slightly younger versions of ourselves when we were travelling all over time?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"You're welcome!"
"Uh…"
"Anyway, the reason is that time kept moving at a constant rate in all the times we visited, even when we weren't there. The Epoch didn't work with measures of time any smaller than years. It's why we couldn't go back just a few minutes to save Crono. And furthermore-"
"And furthermore," Magus interjected, "shut up!"
She looked wounded.
"I've always found it interesting," she shrugged.
"Yes, well, if we were going to list everything wrong with you, we could be here for days. And since "the Epoch doesn't deal with measures of time smaller than years", we couldn't go back and recover them, so they'd still be days wasted."
"Fine," she pouted. "So, what are we going to do when we get back to my house?"
"We're going to hammer out your evil plan once and for all," Magus replied firmly. "We've left it up in the air to deal with minor details for far too long now. Worrying about minions and costume-"
"And whose fault is that?" she murmured.
"-before you've even got your plan worked out is the true sign of an amateur. It's like…well, it's like writing a story without bothering to nail down a plot!"
"Hey!" a voice remarkably like Rhianwen's called from the sky. "Before you criticize the way I write my stories, Mr. Smart-Ass, try remembering that you're in one of those stories right now, and if you tick me off, bad things could happen to you!"
"Like what?" he scoffed. "You're far too much of a 'shipper to kill off one half of your favourite pairing."
"Favourite pairing?" Lucca repeated bewilderedly. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, it just so happens," Rhianwen's voice began smugly, "that I've recently become something of a Lucca/Frog 'shipper, and I'm totally open to employing my newfound tendencies here. And you know what that means! There'd be no reason to keep you around."
"Oh, come on! What about Lucca's evil training?"
"That's continuity," Rhianwen scoffed. "I don't care about that, as long as there's 'shippiness!"
"Fine, fine, no more wisecracks," Magus grumbled.
"Thank-you," Rhianwen said airily before shutting up to let the story take its course once more.
"Okay, what in the hell was that all about?" Lucca demanded.
"Never mind," Magus sighed. "I hate authors who can't keep out of their own stories."
"Uh…kay," Lucca said slowly. "So, let's keep going, okay?"
"All right."
----------------------------------------------
"No! It's absolutely out of the question," he expostulated twenty minutes later, pacing up and down Lucca's bedroom. "The deal was that we were coming back here to work on your evil plot! You didn't say a thing about playing with those silly robots."
"These aren't the robots," she informed him primly from her drafting table. "These are mechas. There's a difference. Please learn it."
"Robots, mechas, what difference does it make if you don't have a plot to employ them in?!"
Lucca shrugged.
"I get the satisfaction of a hard day's work."
"Get your satisfaction after we've mapped out your plan!"
"Fine," she grumbled, hopping off the stool and approaching him. "Well, I figured that, to eliminate that song-"
"What, "Bad Moon Rising"? I still don't see why-"
"Hey, you got a better idea?"
Magus sighed.
"Continue."
"Thank-you. I figured that the easiest thing to do would just be to travel back in time and strongly urge the man who wrote that song, not to."
"And how will you 'urge' him?"
"See, that's where the mechas come in."
"You plan to…threaten the man with certain death by mecha if he doesn't promise never to write that song."
"Exactly!"
"So, what do you do if you leave his time, return to your own day, and find that he has lied?"
"I give him three chances, and then it's squishy time!"
Magus was silent for a long moment.
"Simple, yet effective. Although, I do have a problem with this 'three chances' policy of yours. A true villain would just squish him right away to get what they wanted in the first place. Reasoning isn't very villainous."
"Yeah, well, maybe villains aren't very smart. I hold to what I said earlier about "those who can, do, and those who can't, become evil villains."
"If you feel that way, perhaps we should just stop this all right now."
"Great! I've been hoping you'd say that!"
"What?! No! Not after we've come this far!"
"How far? All we've done is get me a stupid-looking outfit, get thrown in jail, and steal the Epoch."
"Ah, but now you've decided upon a plan, which is the most difficult step."
"Well, I guess…and I have always hated that song…"
"As much as I don't understand going to all that effort to eliminate a song. I suppose you do have to start somewhere. It's what How to Be an Evil Villain in Twelve Easy Steps says. Starting with an over-ambitious project is just asking for disaster. Start small. And your plan's small, all right. Ah, well. Eventually we'll get you onto the important things, like conquering kingdoms and overthrowing governments."
"Yeah, great," she agreed sarcastically. "What am I supposed to do with a kingdom?"
"Conquer it, of course," he scoffed. "And then rule it with an iron fist!"
"Will an iron wrench do as well? How about an iron screwdriver? Ooh! Ooh! An iron hammer!"
"You're missing the point," he informed her grumpily. "But it's no good to get ahead of ourselves anyway. For now, we'll focus on the plot at hand."
"Okay," Lucca shrugged. "But I think I've got my plan as figured out as it's going to get."
"Fool!" Magus jeered. "You have your objective, not your plan."
"I have the plan, too," Lucca assured him easily.
"Oh, really. Then who is your target?"
"The guy who wrote "Bad Moon Rising"! Who do you think?"
"And his name is?"
"Well, geez, I can't really say it here," she replied, glancing nervously about her. "We're not allowed to bring real people – er, that is, we're not allowed to bring people of an alternate dimension known as 'reality' – into the story. Let's just say that he may or may not be John Fogerty."
Magus was silent for a moment.
"Very well. And do you know where you'll find the man?"
"At his house, of course."
"And do you know where that is?"
"Right here," Lucca replied immediately, withdrawing a huge rolled-up map from behind her drafting table, unrolling it, and indicating a dot drawn in red Magic Marker, with a gigantic green sticky arrow pointing to it, as if the red dot hadn't been enough, not to mention the various angry and rather rude phrases scrawled around it in the same red pen.
"I see," Magus said slowly. "Now for the final question. How do you plan to lure him to a secluded location long enough to give him your terms?"
"Well, I've been watching him for the last few days now, and talking to a few people he knows – in disguise, naturally – and he goes out for a jog at seven every evening. I'll get there early and stash my new mecha – hopefully I'll be able to talk some kid into piloting it for me – and then I'll follow the target at a safe distance until we reach that spot. It's about the halfway point on his daily route, so I should be pretty safe."
"I don't know what to say," Magus finally said, a tiny smile making a tentative appearance. "You do your work thoroughly, don't you?"
"Of course!"
"I knew your potential would be great. You'll truly be a force to be reckoned with someday…once we get you onto worthwhile schemes."
"Hey, I think getting rid of a song I don't like is plenty worthwhile!"
"But the song itself is hardly universally hated."
"Yeah, but I don't like it," Lucca shrugged. "And that's what really matters, since I'm the girl genius behind the plan, right?"
"I can't argue with the twisted logic of a budding young villainess," Magus informed his reflection in the mirror hanging on her door.
"Hey, I ain't just a pretty face," she chuckled.
"You certainly aren't," Magus agreed carefully.
"Geez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was clever!"
"Oh, shut up. Now, get some sleep, will you? We have a big day tomorrow, putting your first evil scheme into effect."
"Uh…tomorrow?" she echoed. "About that…"
"What," he growled, fixing her with a stern glare.
"Well, with all the getting arrested and stuff, I haven't had time to build the mecha yet. I've just got the plans drawn up. It'll probably take at least a week, what with ordering the supplies from the city and allowing for a margin of error and everything."
"Oh, great," he grumbled. "I assume you'll be starting tonight."
"I would, if I had my supplies," she sighed.
"When will that happen?"
"In about four to five business days."
"Damn it! What are we supposed to do until you can start construction?"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation and crossing the room to flop back onto her bed. Then she sat up and smirked. "What does The Book say comes next?"
"The Book?" he echoed.
"That bible of yours."
"Ah! Twelve Easy Steps! Why didn't you say so?"
"I think I just did…"
"Shut up. And to answer your question, I think the next obvious step would be an evil lair," he continued, casting a critical eye about the tiny room, sprinkled liberally with piles of books, bits of wire and machinery, and an impressive array of tools.
She blinked.
"What?"
"A secret hideout. A den of iniquity. A deathtrap for heroes and salesmen alike."
"Okay, I know you took that directly out of Twelve Easy Steps."
He crossed his arms and looked away huffily.
"So?"
"Just making conversation. Anyway, where do you suggest? Evil property isn't exactly in high supply around Truce."
"For now, I believe we'll get you set up in the basement of my castle."
"Your castle?" she echoed nervously.
"Is there a problem?"
"Well, no…it's just so…creepy."
"Thank-you. That's the atmosphere I was going for."
"Yeah, great. But why do I have to work there? Why can't I just work here?"
"For several reasons," he replied, picking his way through the mess covering the floor and taking a seat at the drafting table. "First of all, it's like your clothes – altogether too "cute brainy team mate" for your purposes. Secondly, it's far too cramped. Do you honestly plan to build your little robots and things in here?"
"No, I'll do those in the workshop. Dad'll probably help."
"Absolutely not!"
"What? Why?" she asked, astonished.
"You honestly mean to involve your father in your evil plans?"
"Well…"
"Exactly."
"But…he probably wouldn't ask any questions," she said hopefully.
"It's not possible," Magus said firmly. "Tomorrow, we'll get you a workshop set up in my castle."
"Okay, fine. But if I get attacked by a single Save Point down there-"
"Don't worry about that," Magus interjected somewhat resentfully. "You, Crono, and that fly-eating weakling destroyed everything living in it. The Save Points included."
"Good," she said smugly. "And I assume I'll have some privacy?"
"I thought that was the point."
"No, I mean, you're not going to show up and demand to know while I'm wasting my time on killer robots when I could be breeding mutant cat-people or something, are you?"
"Very possibly; why?"
She ground her teeth.
"Wrong answer, pal. Look, thanks for the offer, but I think I'll just work at home."
"Fine, fine, no interruptions unless they're necessary."
"And?" she pressed.
"And…and telling you that that's not how I'd do it – even though my way is almost certainly better – is not necessary."
"Thank-you," she said even more smugly. "Now, go away so I can sleep."
"Very well. Goodnight. And may your sleep be free from nightmares of fuzzy little bunnies playing merrily in sunshiney, daisy-filled fields."
Lucca shook her head in silent despair as Magus shuddered at the mere horror of the thought of fuzzy little bunnies in daisy-filled fields.
"Whatever you say," she sighed. "Now, go away, okay?"
"Fine," he grumbled, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him.
--------------------------------------------
The next morning, as Lucca stood before the massive door to the dark, gloomy, decidedly ominous-looking castle, she felt a chill creep down her spine as she stared up at it, waiting for someone to answer her knock. This, it seemed to her, was rather odd, as she had felt no such chill the last time she had been here. Reflecting that she had just caught a draught, she put the matter out of her mind as the door swung open and her host escorted her inside.
However, when they reached the library that he had been leading her to, and she saw a various assortment of home decorating magazines – or rather, evil home decorating magazines, as if there are any other kind – she reflected that maybe she had some powers of prophecy, and the chill down her spine had been a sign to run as far as she could, as fast as she could.
Yeah, she thought to herself as she took a seat opposite Magus, who had already begun to suggest various colour schemes she might want to experiment with and the different places that she could put the Bottomless Pit of Doom, this is going to be a looooooooong day.
--------------------------------------------
End Notes: [Waves cheerfully] Bye!