Chapter 5: Calm Before The Storm

Disclaimer: I don't own Kesskass or Gazelle. Though Gazelle has no canon backstory as far as I can tell. He's cool anyway.

Things I DO Own: I own Amelia and Sisera, and am willing to sell the rights to them for a sub sandwich (the sandwich must, however, be fresh)

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait. Due to an unfortunate alignment of the planets (and my statistics final, ACT, and test for second-degree black belt all coming due within the same two-week timeframe), I had to put this fic on temporary hiatus so I could study. I should have more time now.

This chapter is a little slow, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. The next two chapters are... more action-oriented. Yeah. So they shouldn't take as long. And they'll close out Part One! Aren't you excited? Don't overwealm me now. Reviewer replies will be on my xanga soon.

"A new generation of children will bring order to this age."

"You're a good friend, but unfortunately, our interest is not mutual, we both have become burdened with so much, and we don't have time for fun anymore."

"There's always time for fun, it's Friday night."

"Let's dance." - Kun Lan and Harman Smith, Killer 7

77 A.F.

Mysterious origin aside, the knife was very useful. Despite its strange appearance, it was perfectly balanced, perfect for delicate work. It handled like a particularly sharp dream. Emilio didn't know how Needles had found out about it, but he had shown up at the Triballus residence a week after the play with a book on wood-carving and a block of the stuff that he claimed was "extra." Emilio, who knew nothing of wood's curent price on Gunsmoke, accepted it without thought.

Three blocks into his self-education, he managed to turn out a crude aproximation of the human form. He was shocked when his father seemed more concerned about the price of the material than with his craftsmanship. Fortunately, in his horror at his son's carving up a valuable resource, Joseph entirely forgot to think about what the carving had been done with.

Thereafter, Emilio was more modest about his accomplishments, at least until Needles arranged for the boy's work to be sold. Within several months of his first attempts, he had sold several for $$199.99 a piece! For that price, Joseph couldn't complain (although he muttered about Allegro being creepy when he found out where the material had come from). At first they were only sculptures, but the desire to make his own puppets overwhelmed him. He had to try it. His progress here was slow at first, but seemed to snowball as he went along. At first the moving parts were clumsy, but he kept at it, and soon he sold one of them to a traveler for more than one of his sculptures.

His plays were going well too. There was a new one every other month. If one of his friends temporarily lost interest in the shows, he simply recruited new members for the act. By the fourth production, there were more than a dozen possible players.

Joseph was both amazed and slightly scared at these developements.

It was Gelton who finally came up with the name. He was in the bakery buying bread for sub sandwiches, because Needles was feeling like one or two or five, when Emilio walked in to speak to his father.

"Hey kid," he called, "walk back there and tell your dad to move his ass."

"Nah, I don't wanna get killed."

"Whatever..." Gelton said, sighing dramaticly and staring at a crumpled up piece of paper money, "I guess I'll just have to give a hundred double-bucks to someone who's brave enough..."

Emilio's eyes widened. He'd been making some money, but his dad had been making him save most of it (and the amazingly awesome Needles wasn't going to step in on his behalf here; when Emilio had complained, Needles had taken Joseph aside and advised him on how to invest the money correctly). Spending money would officialy rock.

"You're lying."

"Nope."

"You weren't gonna give me money."

"I was, but I'm not now."

"You were not."

Joseph walked up to the counter holding Gelton's bread.

"So, what's going on guys?" he asked.

"Gelton said he would have given me a hundred double-dollars to tell you to hurry. But he's a," he slipped into his British accent here, "filthy liar."

"That isn't a nice thing to say, Emilio," the baker replied.

Gelton laughed.

"He doesn't offend me much." He looked vaguely thoughtful as he counted out the bills to to give to Joseph. "Actors are like that. It's only right that Emilio the actor-extrordinaire is quirky."

"I'm not quirky!"

"Yeah, you're pretty quirky."

"Am not! I'm just good at doing plays!"

Gelton grinned.

"So, you admit you're a twelve year-old player? Pretty quirky. And easy to annoy. You should work on that, player."

"Dad..." Emilio whined.

"Gelton, quit calling my son a player," Joseph said, rather half-heartedly.

"I'll quit calling him a player when he quits playing. But why would he want me to? I think 'Emilo the Player' sounds kinda catchy myself. Later."

He turned and walked out, his majestic exit spoiled only by his hair being blown into his face as he walked under one of the bakery's fairly powerful ceiling fans.

"Weird guy," Joseph commented. "So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Mom told me to tell you she'd left this grocery list on your clothes and you'd still left it at home. She says she's gonna smack you if you come home without this stuff."

Joseph took the list and frowned.

"But I just got milk!"

"That wastwo weeks agoDad," Emilio said patiently.

"Are you sure? We don't use that much milk..."

"You eat two bowls of cereal a day. And we had a quiche."

"And cheese?"

"We haven't had any for a week and a half. We used the last on that quiche."

"I know we have eggs!" Joseph snarled at the list. Then it hit him.

"Not the quiche again!"

Emilio nodded.

"That's it, Player! We're going shopping. And there will never be another quiche under my roof!

Ironically, Joseph was right about that.

Kayin was sitting on his porch, playing harmonica and watching the sunset when Emilio arrived. Sean Bostalk, now approaching two years of age, sat on his dad's lap listening to the pretty music. Against all odds, the child was happy and healthy, but it had been a near thing. Kayin and his wife both watched the boy as if they thought he might crumble to dust at any second.

"Lemme guess," Kayin said, "You want Cam, right? He's inside. A bit late though..."

"Well..." Emilio replied, "actually I was wondering if you could read this." The boy held out a collection of papers. Kayin took them, interested. After a moment of study, he responded.

"You want to put on the Aria of Don Giovanni?" he asked. "Who introduced you to this one? Needles, I suspect?"

"Yeah, he said it would be really cool to do, but I'd have to go to you for the music, cause he and Gelton can't read it. He told me what it was about."

"I imagine... But who do you think will come to watch a puppet show in Italian?"

"I dunno. I just want to try. Can you teach me to sing it?"

Kayin stared. Could he teach the boy to sing? In his heart of hearts, Kayin's worst fear was that his gift was just that and nothing more. A gift. Bred into him, like he was nothing more than a machine, capable of only spitting out his programing. The thought nauseated him. He'd taught quite a few kids how to play instuments, and some of them had become fairly proficient, but he'd never seen one of his students go beyond playing to entertain the family, or maybe taking requests in a tavern somewhere. He'd tried to teach Cameron how to play an instrument, but his older son hadn't been interested. The explanations and illustrations he'd thought were brilliant, interesting, absolutely magnificent had fallen utterly flat before his child's apathy. But Emilio wanted to learn, and go far...

Yes, he could teach Emilio. And if the kid wanted to hemmorage brains with a high C, he'd teach him that too. To hell with Needles and their agreement! Needles had broken it himself by modifing the Nebraskas. He didn't deserve to die here, gifts unacknowledged. He'd teach Emilio; and when Sean was old enough, him too! He'd open up a school of music to the glory of his art!

Emilio, although slightly more perceptive than the average twelve year old, didn't realize that he had just been the cause of an epiphany. It was just as well, because Kayin's train of thought was becoming steadily scarier.

"Kid, can I teach you to sing? We're going to make you into the most marvelous voice on Stantal!"

Sean laughed.

The four of them sat around the table, staring at their cards. The game was a variation on the old Earth game of Texas Hold'em, and their poker faces were prefect. Amelia looked like she was freezing cold, but that was normal for her, even in the desert planet's summer. Kesskass almost pitied her. Pity was not an emotion he could feel, but the sight of her wrapped in three layers of clothing and still shuddering at the slightest breeze evoked something.

Gazelle looked bored with the game and his opponents. It was a practiced look, perfected by countless years of nonchalance. In reality, he now held a full house, and was having to fight back a grin. The pot contained over two thousand double-dollars. This was a beautiful thing.

Kesskass didn't know what Gazelle was holding, but the man had just raised again. His boredom seemed too perfect for Kesskass to risk any more money on a pair. He placed his cards face down.

"Dealer folds," he said, ending the last round of betting.

The other three showed their personal cards. Gazelle grinned as he raked in the chips. Amelia scowled. Sisera looked at his hand lying on the table and sighed.

"That's simply awful," he hissed. "Are you trying to give him our money, Kesskass?"

"You know I can't afford to throw away cash, Sisera. We all lose sometimes."

"That's the sort of attitude I expect from humans. Annoying. Defeatist."

"Accompanied by hand gestures." Amelia continued for him, keeping her face as straight as possible.

"Bitch," Sisera responded, lifting a glass of water to his mouth with his foot. The act would have been fairly impressive had it not been preceeded by his playing cards. There was a long silence.

It was Gazelle who broke it first.

"Why is this necessary? What will it accomplish?"

"We aren't capable of understanding that," Kesskass replied. "We aren't worthy to stand in our master's presence, and certainly not to question him."

"Your master, not mine," Gazelle said, "I serve no one."

"Then... why are you here?"

"Because I have nothing better to do. But I am no servant, and I'll kill you if you say so again."

"I'd love to watch you try, old friend."

"Easy boys," Sisera responded, "we're here to discuss killing them." He jerked his head meaningfully towards the nearest window.

"You have a plan, Kesskass?" Amelia noted. "It could get messy if we just have a showdown in the town square."

"You're scared?" Gazelle laughed.

"Hardly," she said, "I want this to go as smoothly as possible."

"I haven't got any appointments. A showdown is good enough for me."

"Nevertheless," Kesskass stated, "we've got to destroy this town, and slaughter everyone in it. We could win a straight-up duel with Allegro and his lackeys, but it would probably end with one or more of us crippled or worse. And the Nebraska Pair are here too. They've been modified."

"So?" Gazelle mocked. "Modded humans are still just humans. Not our calibre. Just a fun little bonus."

"Gazelle..." Kesskass warned.

"Sisera's right, it's your negative attitude that causes you to lose. Look at me. Cheerful, upbeat, and now," he gestured to the pile oif chips, "rolling in it. But I'll play along. What's your plan?"

Kesskass explained. The others listened carefully, and one by one began to grin.

One afternoon, Emilio came by Isabel's school to walk her home. He intended to talk to her about the Aria. Also, she was fun to hang out with, which probably counted for something.

"So," she asked when he was done telling her about it, "how are we going to sing in Italian?"

"Kayin said he could teach us how to say the words, and what they meant..."

"But no one else will know what they mean."

"But we will." Then, as an afterthought: "We can probably get Needles to print out programs."

"He'd do that?" Isabel asked.

"He's loaded," Emilio replied, "and he likes me. I can talk him into it." Isabel started to reply, then hesitated.

Finally she said, "What do you mean, 'he likes you'?"

He saw her unspoken question immediately.

"No, no no! Not like that! He isn't a pervert!"

"How do you know?"

"I just... I know. He likes me, but not like that."

They walked in silence for a while. Eventually, they reached Isabel's house.

"Will you do the show?" he asked, "I'd really like you to."

"Sure," she said. He beamed.

"All right! Talk to your Dad about when we can all meet at Kayin's, okay?"

"Okay." She walked inside, and Emilio turned towards home.

Vash had volunteered to help Emilio clean up the Globe. It needed it; things were strewn everywhere, and the place had become a sort of storage closet for some of the boy's unfinished work.

While they worked, they talked. Emilio told Vash about the new play, and the plant told him about the time he'd stopped a drunken gunfighter from killing a barmaid by throwing a bottle at his head.

"That's awesome," Emilio said, "I wish I could do stuff like that."

"You don't want to do that."

"Yeah I do!"

"No you don't. It always scared me whenever I had to do things like that. I'm glad it's over."

"So," Emilio said, "you're never leaving this town again?"

"I don't want to," Vash said, "but you'll come with me if I go." Then the tone of his voice changed to one of mockery. "Or... would you rather stay here with Isssabelllll!"

"What are you talking about?" Emilio replied, feigning ignorance.

"I've seen the way you talk to her, Leo," the Stampede said, grinning. "You're in LUV!"

"I am not in love!"

"No, you aren't. You're in LUV. There's a difference."

"I am not!" the boy protested.

"Then why the big reaction?"

"Cause she's Isabel!"

"And?"

Emilio was very quiet. He swept the small building with such intensity that Vash thought he might have a stroke at any second. It was almost funny, but Vash could see that the boy wasn't amused. He spoke again.

"You don't have to be mad at about it. I was just teasing."

"I know," Emilio said, "you've done it before."

"You'd make a cute couple!"

"Would not!"

"Come on, aren't you a bit old to be scared of girls?"

"I'm not scared. But it'd be weird. What would the kids look like?"

They both laughed at this.

"Let's see," Vash mused, "they'd be strawberry-blonde," he ruffled Emilio's red hair, "blue-eyed, pale, but no freckles at all." He pretended to think for a minute, then looked down at Emilio and added, "and really short."

"Hey!" Emilio screamed.

"You're short."

"I'm gonna hit you!"

"Angry short guy on the loose! The carnage is incredible!"

"I think Emilio the Player is a great title," Kayin said.

"I don't," Emilio said. The Player and his group were at the Bostalk residence learning to sing. Joseph was there providing snacks, and Emilio was tremendously embarassed.

"I think it's a fantastic stage name," Joseph added, "perfect for the grand guignol!" When everyone stared, he added.

"That's French for 'puppet show.' Thought I'd get in the Aria spirit!"

"But Mr. Triballus," Galpez said, "the Aria of Don Giovanni is Italian."

Everyone laughed. But Isabel, who was feeling charitable, added:

"I think it could be a nice title for our act. Emilio and Company's Grand Guignol. What about you guys?"

"Forget everything bad I've ever said about you, Kesskass," Gazelle said.

"A great burning..." Amelia murmured, "I'm going to stand in the fire and roast marshmallows."

"I'm going to amputate some limbs," Sisera chuckled. "I'll be bitter if I want to!"

Kesskass looked at them. Monsters through and through, not a redeeming feature to be found. Two weeks from today, they would slaughter three and a half thousand fairly innocent people. But in their defense, they'd been created for it.

Total slaughter. For a moment, Kesskass could smell the dust and blood and smoke of the battlefield.

"Our purpose?" he asked.

"Who the hell needs purpose!" they chanted back.

This was going to be fun.

PREVIEW:

Emilio: Someone once told me that back on Earth, there were forests that needed fire to survive. The fires would burn away the undergrowth, the old and dead trees, and cause the seeds for the biggest trees to open. Everything burned paved the way for the next generation. But this fire isn't like that. It burns away everything healthy and leaves monsters. And over it all stands an evil man, laughing at...

NEXT CHAPTER: The Fall of Little Jericho