The World Of Destiny Island
A/N: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square-Enix blah, blah blah...
Precious is by and copyright Depeche Mode, from their album Playing the Angel.
Precious
The fairgrounds had a few large sooty spots across the empty lots, each with a reversed, spread-eagle-Kairi-shaped mark in the middle.
Kairi got up out of the last spot, brushed the soot and dirt from her coat and trudged towards the city.
"Look. You left your mark on the world again," Frega laughed and laughed. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"
"To buy a gun," she rasped. She expected another blow to the head, but he just sat on his haunches and flipped through his day planner.
"Don't be too long," he said.
She got as far as the Seventy Cent Store before guilt made her turn back around. She didn't like magic, but she wasn't a quitter either...
It hit her.
"I've got stockholm syndrome," she said. A bum in the near alley looked at her and quickly looked away. "He's brainwashing me! Me!" The only cure for this was to do something reasonable.
I have to call Mom... her heart constricted. She went into the store and asked to be directed to the phone.
Destiny Island had all the latest technology in communications; unfortunately, the limited wealth of the town allowed only one phone for the entire island. That little commodity fell under the watchful eye of Paul the Merchant, owner of the only grocery store in town. He was busy brooding over the sudden drop in business when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Paul?"
"Kairi?" the sound of the phone being shifted, "Is that you?"
"It is!" Kairi wiped a little tear from her eye.
"Where have you been, girl? You know the Mayor went looking for you weeks ago?" More little tears fell on her cheeks.
"I got caught up in something, Paul, but I'm okay. I'm okay!"
"That's good to hear, did you need some money, Kairi? Are stranded?" She would've loved to stay on the phone and listen to Paul's sincere voice for hours.
"I'm fine, Paul. I just wanted to ease my Mom's worries, that's all."
"Well, she did leave town already. I'm sorry."
"That's okay. Has anyone seen my Dad yet?"
Paul was quiet for a couple of seconds. Kairi remembered that she was supposed to be in some tragic denial about a bunch of unexplained deaths. Damn, why couldn't people just hold out a little hope?
"No, darling."
"I can't stay long," the pity in his voice annoyed her, "but if you hear from my Mom, could you tell her that I called? Tell her I'm fine, tell her that I'm in Luca. Okay?"
"Luca?"
"Bye, Paul!"
The call cut her paycheck in half.
When she had her composure in place and returned to the fairgrounds she discovered a short note written in the dirt: Went To Caves. A precise arrow pointed towards a towering wall of black rock and several old barricades covered with black and yellow caution tape.
Was this supposed to teach her something? She grit her teeth. He wanted to play in the dark? Fine. With her glowing onion in hand she headed for the shadows.
"Master? Master! Yoo-hoo!"
What a dump. Kairi stood in the low archway plastered with generations worth of DANGER signs. They were a surefire way to attract bored teenagers. She could see their graffiti all over the place, and all the beer cans, broken glass, and burned out cars looked so strange against the background of broken monoliths. Here a cracked face watched over the old dump; and there lay a giant fountain on its side. Kairi picked her way through the junkyard, making sure not to scratch herself on anything, she really didn't want to go to the hospital again.
"Master?" she called again. This place is a maze and a-mazing! Dad would've loved that pun.
She found him sitting atop a pile of cut slabs sketching the stones arranged in a careful circle around him. He was pretty good at it. She peered over his shoulder and watched a group of soldiers take shape beneath the chalk in his thin fingers.
Frega didn't appear to notice her sidling up so close to him. She thought she could get away with kissing him on the cheek.
"Don't even think about it," he said when she puckered her lips. He looked up from the notebook and glared at her. "If you ever attempt to do that, then say Fare Thee Well To Thy Eyebrows. I can cast lightning spells that'd melt your genes to a puddle!"
"Grouch," Kairi sniffed. "What are you doing?"
He nodded at the arrangement of stones, large pieces that she would never believe anyone had the strength to move. The stones formed a mural, a story of some battle.
"The dwarves used to live underground, way underground, more than four thousand years ago," he explained. "They migrated to the surface and brought all of their handiwork, even the ancient palace of the Dwarf King. Bit by bit they moved pieces upward and reassembled everything here."
"And they threw away the stuff that broke?"
"I'm sure they had every intention of repairing everything that held significance. Look at this. This one, they probably didn't even realize its value." He waved at the length of stones. "Do you know what story this tells?"
"Some old battle?" she fidgeted. History was so dull– except for documentaries about war machines.
Frega gave her one of those looks that said she was close to getting her ears boxed. Kairi got up and took a closer look at the warrior leading the attack.
"What's that he's riding?"
Frega looked at her in surprise.
"Surely your educational system isn't so dismal that you haven't heard of a horse?"
"I know what a horse is! I've never seen one with that many legs."
"Alright, it's a badly realized horse. Dwarves didn't see much of 'em underground."
He shut his drawing journal and hopped to the ground.
"Come on, Jailbait," he sighed. "Let's get back to work."
"Welcome to tonight's episode of The Dating Game!"
Bright lights and cheesy game show music roused Baralai out of his doze. He was sitting on a high stool in the middle of a pink and red nightmare of a set in his dress uniform. Vargas strode from offstage, cards in hand, stage makeup plastered on and a huge grin.
"I'm your host Lord Vargas, bringing you voyeuristic vultures– or loyal viewers– in on the most dangerous game ever played with the human heart. Tonight's victim is a forty-two-year-old exiled Dragoon Knight from the Island of Destiny. He's divorced, a father, a smuggler and an avid collector of the works of Danielle Steel. His hobbies include drinking, sunbathing, wine-tasting, museum critiquing and antique collecting." He winked conspiratorially at the camera and stage whispered. "And in case you're wondering ladies, yes, the carpet does match the drapes."
Baralai sat with his mouth open, humiliated and horrified while the audience made catcalls and whistled. Vargas rolled his eyes.
"There's no accounting for taste with some people, am I right?
"Last week we sent our hopeless case on a date with three lovely ladies wa-a-ay out his league, and tonight we're going to hear how it all went. Are you ready?"
The audience clapped and yelled.
"Will our lovely ladies please join us on the set?
"Our first bachelorette is a dancer who divides her time between her career and her hobby as a real estate broker, please give a warm welcome for Miss Ruby!' Ruby stepped out onto the stage wearing a tight Little Miss Bo-Peep outfit that was cut to show off her two talents. She waved at the audience and bowed forward slightly, almost coming out of her top.
"And our second bachelorette is a barista from lower Mysidia who's hobbies include making shit up and home wrecking– Miss Mary Susiana!" Sus ran onto the stage wearing a gold bikini.
"Hi-eee!" she hopped up and down and waved both arms at him.
"And finally we have our third bachelorette, a belly dancer from Eblan who likes dogs and long walks on the beach. Give a warm welcome to the pleasurable Miss Shad-elle!"
Shadow danced onto the stage, swinging his roomy hips in ways that seemed impossible for normal human bodies.
It's creepy, Baralai thought, but he sure has a nice set of– eearrrgh! Must... gouge out... own... eyes...!
"This must be some horrible dream," he said out loud.
"So ladies, how did your dates go?"
"Awful!" Ruby crossed her arms.
"Okay I guess," Sus shrugged.
"As long as I get paid…" Shad-elle said.
"Awww," the audience said sympathetically.
"Dear me!" Vargas put a hand over his chest. "And we had such high hopes! What happened?"
"It started out all right," Ruby said, "But once we got to dinner he would not shut up about his ex! I mean, come on! What woman wants to hear that? Then as we were leaving this Dr. Unne guy comes up to us and accuses me of being a hooker! And did he defend me? Oh there was some punches thrown, but I got the feeling it wasn't even about me.
Worst date ever."
"Please. You just don't understand him," Sus rolled her eyes at Ruby. "He's sensitive! For example: after our fabulous date we had beautiful movie sex under a star-filled night. He cried for about a half hour afterward. True story."
"Why god? Why?" Baralai put his head in his hands and muttered while the audience died of laughter.
Laughter... he heard someone laughing.
His eyes opened. He was under a painfully bright light, and it was the only source of light in the room. He pushed the swinging arm of the accent lamp away and blinked.
"Excuse me?" Baralai said. "Hello?" He sat up on a plush couch in a gloomy living room.
"Yes?" Vargas answered from the dim corners. He walked into the light with the weaselly man behind him.
"Where's Myrna?" he asked the man. His own voice didn't sound right in his ears and he had a massive headache.
"Madame Mayor? Oh dear," Vargas sighed. "We don't know. There's been an accident, you're confused."
Baralai tried to stand up, but the floor wobbled under his feet.
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you. We're very interested in your health."
"Where am I?" The memories started to come back. He'd been looking for the Mayor, and he ran into Garm– that wasn't a dream was it?
"You're safe in an undisclosed location."
"I'm in your house, aren't I?" Baralai stood up, even if the room spun. "And... and you goons clubbed me!" He rubbed the back of his head where a large knot was forming.
"It was an accident," weasel-man said, his eyes shifted back and forth like a cartoon character's.
"A miscommunication," Vargas amended.
"What do you want? Is this how you intended to treat the Mayor?"
"Oh stop it!"
A young boy joined them from the shadows. Baralai put his age around ten or twelve, he was sunburned, he had an insolent look in his eye, and his hair... It was all spiked up the center and blue.
"Whine, whine, whine!" the kid reprimanded. "You're a dragoon knight! You're tough enough to take a little beating!"
Flashback...
"Whine, whine, whine!"
"Master... I'm just a little... ugh... concerned...," a sixteen-year-old Baralai shuffled into the teacher's area with a spreading blood stain on his chest. He could barely move for the pain, to say nothing of the wooden training spear still protruding from his back.
"So go to the infirmary and take a number! Be a man!"
End flashback...
"I know you," Baralai said. "You're that kid who gave me the invitation!" The boy backed up a couple of steps before the large man with the hammer kicked him forward. It was such a small movement from the man, but the little body hit the floor as if thrown and suddenly the brat was just a delicate little child. The boy picked himself up glared defiantly.
"Errol is my charge, sir," the man said. "If he's said or done anything disrespectful I will deal with him."
"Who are you?"
"Captain Ysamir Antilles, lancer," the man saluted.
"And I'm Os," the little weaselly man added. "Formerly of Os and Steve."
Baralai ignored the loathsome man and stared at the only other knight left in Mysidia– not even the old woman knew about this one. "What are you doing here? I've looked everywhere in this city for one of you and here you were the whole time?"
"There's not much time to explain–"
"There never is."
"I have obligations, sir," the captain said quietly.
"To me," Lord Vargas stepped in between the men. "And to our Society."
"Are you aware of what the Governor's done?" Baralai ignored Vargas.
"Oh yes, sir. Fully. I've been monitoring the situation closely and I can tell you, happily, that most of the contents of the Vault are on their way to alternate locations."
That the man would openly speak of this in front of people outside of the Order absolutely baffled the Praetor. But there were more pressing concerns.
"Do you know what I had to do today for the old cleaning woman to find out this information that you could've told me?" Baralai demanded. He pulled off his shirt and showed them the deep scratches on his back. Eyebrows were raised. "You see? Do you see?"
"Uh," Captain Antilles hesitated.
"I had to help her rearrange her bedroom. She wouldn't make up her mind about the new layout... moving that damned armoire all day! And then her cat attacked me!"
"Sir. I'm sorry."
"Don't feel bad, sir," Errol said. "She does that to everybody, she's just lonely."
"I kind of got the feeling she just likes to watch men lift things," Captain Antilles said. All three of them stood quietly lost in their own horrific thoughts, Baralai absent-mindedly scratched at his arms.
"I'm so sorry about Captain Antilles and Os' behavior," Vargas waved at them to get their attention. "They just forget how to deal with civilized people after a while. No harm done, I hope?"
"What do you want?" Baralai snapped, pulling his shirt back on.
"Only to talk." Vargas looked at him earnestly. It was an expression that Baralai didn't trust. "Please. Would you like a drink?"
"I think I'd rather just go, if you don't mind," Baralai headed for the door.
"You can't go yet."
"Why? Because you're holding me against my will?"
"Of course not! That's ridiculous," Vargas blocked his path. "I would just like to take this opportunity to offer you a job."
"I thought you wanted to offer the Mayor a job; speaking of which, it's the middle of the night and she's still missing– goodnight."
"Please, hear us out," Vargas scurried back toward the noisy shadows. The lights in the room finally went up to reveal that they were surrounded by dozens of robed and hooded figures.
"Well? What do you think?" Vargas asked.
"I think you're creepy."
"But wait!" On that cue the figures opened their robes to show the glittery dance costumes beneath.
"Believe it or not," Baralai's eyes swept across the lines of dancers, "this actually makes me feel worse."
"We aren't creepy, we're the good guys!" Os said. "We are... The Society of the Black Wave."
Uh-oh, I sure hope this isn't going where I think it is. However, he could hear the faint sound of a live orchestra tuning up and that made him nauseous. Musicals and the supernatural– he couldn't stand them.
"Four thousand years ago–" Vargas began, but Baralai cut him off.
"I don't want to hear it, okay?"
"But our secret origin–"
"Ancient threat spells end of existence as we know it. We get people saying the same kind of nonsense all the time." Usually this nonsense comes from an eclectic group of warriors who sail into port and attempt to openly ransack every house in town.
"Well yes but–"
"You're looking for a powerful talisman."
"Right, and–"
"You need my help."
"In a roundabout way–"
"Get a life." He stepped around Vargas, the crowd of jerks in fishnet stockings muttered to each other.
"Sir," Captain Antilles met him at the living room door. "Please, hear these people out. Most of them are useless, but I do believe that the danger Lord Vargas speaks of is very real."
"You do?" The word of a knight had a lot more weight than a secret society hobbyist, but still... "Then you should take care of things through the proper channels. Don't encourage the crackpots." He didn't care if Lord Vargas and his geeks could hear him.
"Please listen, sir. I should think you'd be interested in the immediate safety of your friends, the Unnes."
"I should hope that for your sake that wasn't a threat," he whispered.
"No, sir. I mean to say," he leaned in, "they don't intend to let you leave this city, sir, and the last one to see Dr. Unne alive is in this room." The Praetor whirled around and stalked back into the living room.
"Alright, let's get this over with."
"What?" Vargas blinked.
"You heard me. You win. Sign me up for the crazy club!" Baralai cried.
"You don't have to be rude about it," Vargas was completely thrown by the reversal, but it was enough to bring a smile to his face. "Really?"
"You've convinced me. Completely! Yes, I'll help save the world! How could any moral person do otherwise?"
"This is wonderful! I am so glad that you're so reasonable," Vargas swept his hair back again in a movement that was getting irritating. "You have no idea how obstinate people can be! And we didn't even have to offer you the monkey!"
"The monkey is a nice incentive, sir," Captain Antilles said.
"Leave us! We have much to discuss!" Vargas waved the lackeys away. They were incredibly disappointed that they didn't get to perform their song and dance. Eventually they all filed out and only Os and Captain Antilles remained. Vargas wandered over to the bar and poured himself a drink. "Would you like a monkey? They're great around the house."
"No thanks, I'm never home often enough to keep pets," Baralai casually looked around for the exit.
"I wonder what the Captain said to you to make you change your mind," Vargas said. He looked over his glass at the Praetor with a measuring gaze. "Errol told you about Dr. Unne, didn't he?" Baralai shrugged, outwardly he was completely at ease. "The boy has been difficult to control; kids think they know everything."
"Everybody thinks they know everything. Don't punish the boy for his impetuosity, I wouldn't have paid much attention to you if you didn't have information about the good doctor. Where's he been for the past two months?"
"And you're concerned? I heard that the two of you were bitter enemies." Vargas was looking at him carefully. Baralai remembered that their initial target had been Myrna and that Antilles had hinted that Dr. Unne may be dead (or that he was alive but the last person to see him in that condition was... why the hell does everyone have to be so vague?)
"The man's ego won't let him do anything that didn't glorify his intellect, he's become completely self-serving. I assumed that he decided to leave his family and his life because he felt entitled to greater things, it's no secret that he's unhappy. But since he didn't see fit to let the mortals know his intentions I can't say for sure.
"I only care about the town and my friend. If the man's dead, great, the Mayor needs closure. If he's alive and well and he doesn't care about her anymore..."
"Based on your personal experience, wouldn't dead be better?" Vargas asked, swirling his drink.
"Maybe, but not knowing either way isn't doing much for our town."
"That's funny, I thought you guys left town to investigate the illegal transfer of the island's ownership, and to find a missing girl. I thought this wasn't about the doctor at all. I thought that as soon as she had this little 'mission' that she'd taken a step towards living a life independent of the man."
"Lord Vargas, I told you why I cared; would you mind telling me what your interest in this little soap opera would be? And why you or your underlings felt it necessary to burgle my house?"
"The book," Vargas laughed. "Sorry about that, that was all Errol. He's the lowest of the low in your Order and naturally he was fascinated by you and your son, and your life. We were only interested in the Unnes.
"Do you know the odds of finding a natural White Wizard?"
The odds of finding a natural White Wizard are said to be one in a million. That means in a country with one million people you may find an individual with the inherent ability to cast White Magic. Anyone can go to The Center of White Magic in Burmecia and learn to practice medicine; a small number of those may discover the ability to work with magical energy and become competent Mages; an even smaller number can devote all their energy to the study and become White Wizards; but one person in a million will be able to cast the more powerful spells and do so without the use of energy-storing devices, stones, or Mist treatments– natural White Wizards. This ability manifests itself in various ways, some wizards are immune to poisons, a couple had lived freakishly long lives, and others have the ability to heal themselves.
Though he was an active child, Dr. Unne didn't have a scar on his body until some group tried to vivisectify him when he was fifteen. After that it seemed that Unne actively tried to collect scars and made a conscious effort not to let them fade. That was the drawback to Mankind's Gift, in spite of the records of tragic loss and disaster some people still believed that the GIft could and ought to be controlled and studied.
Baralai didn't like Zephram Unne, but he prayed that this secret society wasn't holding the doctor in some secret lab and trying to open him up to see how he worked.
Errol had said that they wanted Myrna to convince Unne to do something, and now they no longer seemed concerned about getting to her. Did they kill him?
"One in a million. So you know," Baralai shrugged. "How did you find out?"
"We have members who attend the Center and were able to check the records," Vargas said. In the face of Baralai's apparent nonchalance on the subject Vargas relaxed.
"Makes sense." Idiots! Careless Incompetents!
"He would've been a considerable ally in our struggle," Vargas explained.
"Or a tool," Baralai said. Vargas flinched at the idea, he actually flinched.
"Good god! We're not monsters!"
"You orchestrated his disappearance?"
"Well, it was only going to be a temporary disappearance," Vargas said guiltily. "We isolated him, explained ourselves and offered him the opportunity to help us– and he did accept the offer, by the way."
Baralai didn't believe a word of it.
"What happened next was a, a miscommunication, there may or may not have been threats issued by a former member of the society. Unne took it all the wrong way, and then that freak storm came up, ship capsized, many men lost. It's too horrible to go into," Vargas refilled his glass. Master Duncan would've disapproved of his student's substance abuse.
"Errol told me that Dr. Unne was alive, and I can see no reason for you to bother the Mayor if he were dead," Baralai said. You manipulative, cruel bastard, he thought.
"True," Vargas grimaced. "We suspected that he went into hiding after we lost him in that freak storm, I mean, he's invincible is he not?"
"Guy can drown like anyone else."
"Ah, really. Didn't know that. Probably a good thing we didn't, believing he survived we set up a network of informants, and lo and behold he turned up. We don't know where he is, exactly, but we're zeroing in on his location."
"And you were going to get his wife to help plead your case once you found him," Baralai said with a faint smile.
"Absolutely! And once we found out that the Enemy had taken his daughter we thought she'd surely want our protection and she'd help."
"And who's this enemy?"
Vargas winked and waggled his finger at him.
"Ah-ah! Soon, all will be revealed."
I sense an insanely long and pointless monologue coming. I better get out of here before I start talking like this.
"I need to use your bathroom," he stood up. He could see Captain Antilles and Os sitting on the couch playing with Game Station handhelds. Vargas didn't look all that alert either.
"Right down the hallway and up the stairs to the left."
"Thank you."
He walked out of the study and down the hall, opened the front door and walked out of the house.
"You're the first opponent to beat Bloody Murder since his winning streak began! How do you feel?" One of the arena staff asked.
"I feel," Wakka held his aching stomach and thought for a moment. "Faint." Zidane and Locke had him by the arms and were keeping him upright.
"I can't believe a little guy like you beat Bloody Murder." Dio, the speedo-wearing owner, insisted on presenting the winners with their checks personally. So Wakka had been escorted up the longest flight of stairs to the owner's box. A small crowd gathered on the red carpet, a photographer slowly set up his camera to record the moment and a nurse pulled all of Wakka's fingers straight.
"Good god, kid," she checked his ribs. "You're built like a brick shithouse, I thought for sure you'd be, y'know, dead."
"Hey, bro, look what I got," Chappu opened his hand. A glistening eyeball with the optical nerve still attached lay in his grimy palm. "Souvenir, heh heh," Chappu chuckled. Wakka slapped the disgusting thing out of his hand.
"And now, here is your prize!" Dio handed Wakka a slip of paper. "Five hundred... battle points!" There was a blast of cheesy fanfare music. Dio threw a handful of confetti over Wakka.
Wakka choked. Chappu turned a pretty shade of pink.
"Battle points, hm," Locke said calmly. "And about how much is that in munny?"
"Nothing," Dio said.
"Nothing? Then what was the whole point?" Sus demanded.
"The point is to collect points and trade them in for something rare!"
"Oh wonderful, it's like that crappy pizza place in Pravoka," Chappu said. "So what's worth 500 battle points and peeing blood for a week? Candy necklaces? A superball?"
"Well, first you get this complimentary camera from the Gerad Foundation," Dio handed Wakka an antique-looking 35 mm camera with a large flashbulb attached to it. The thing weighed a ton. Chappu took it away before it slipped out of his hands.
"Here you go," Chappu handed the camera to Lilo.
"Sweet! Thank you."
"Are you sure you don't want to continue?" Dio asked. Wakka growled in way that was disturbingly similar to Bloody Murder. Dio held up his hands and took a step back. "Alright. Then, Bob, tell us what he's won!"
"It's a brand new living room set!" The hidden announcer yelled. The far wall lifted to reveal a sofa and loveseat set, two end tables and a huge slab coffee table rotating in a display with a couple of smiling models. "This sofa and loveseat combo are accented with a three-piece carbonite set..." the announcer rattled off the list of qualities. The crew 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over the tasteful but dull set valued at fifteen hundred munny.
"And it's all yours for the low price of 480 BP!" Dio said and put a hand on Chappu's shoulder.
"Please don't touch me," Chappu said and tried not to look at Dio.
"Smile everyone!" Lilo called. Stitch helped her hold the camera straight while she waited for the crew to pose for the picture. "Say cheese!" The powerful flash went off.
"Ouch!"
"My eyes!"
"Something's wrong with Locke!" Sus screamed.
Locke lay on the floor, twitching and drooling excessively. The curtains in the display area were on fire, and the natural leather seats were scorched.
"That's just disgusting, hey kid, knock that off!" Dio nudged Locke with his foot.
"There they are!" Aerith shouted. Cid, Seifer and Aerith stood behind the partition that separated the owner's box from everyone else.
"Everybody freeze!" Seifer ordered. "You are all under arrest!"
"On what charge? How dare you imply that we're doing anything illegal? Thumb wrestling is not a blood sport! Lawyers!" Dio roared. Five men in expensive business suits leapt between Dio and Seifer, briefcases open.
"I'm not talking about you, idiot!"
"Lilo. Take their picture!" Mog whispered.
Lilo lifted the camera to her eye and pressed the shutter.
A wall of flames swept across those unlucky enough to be in the path of the camera's extremely powerful flash. Spectators scattered in an attempt to find a water fountain or a clear space to put out of their burning clothes.
"Let's get out the frell outta here!" Chappu said.
"Here, jump on the furniture," Dio said. "We'll beam it directly to your ship's hold."
"That sounds dangerous," Mog said.
"Or you can fight your way past them, I'm not picky," Dio pointed beyond the lawyers at the angry Cid and even angrier Seifer. Zidane and Sus dragged Locke onto the couch, Wakka sat down on the loveseat, Lilo, Stitch and Mog climbed on top of the coffee table.
"Thanks for the camera!" Lilo said to Dio.
"Ha! No problem little girl! As for you, Wakka, come back and fi– I mean, thumb-wrestle again, young man!"
The battle arena disappeared in a haze of special effects and light.
Instantaneously the whole furniture set and seven people burned to a bright red shine (one of them flailing violently and drooling) appeared in the Altoona's cargo hold. Everyone screamed from the instant sunburn.
"Aaah! Aaaah! Let's never do that again!" Sus cried.
"Wow!" Chappu said, his enthusiasm not at all dampened by the first-degree burns on his legs, arms, and face. "Just like on... uh, some show I heard about that I never watch."
"Zidane, start the engines," Wakka said miserably, trying to move as little as possible. The pilot slowly got up and shuffled towards the service ladder.
"Water, water," Stitch limped off towards the kitchen area with Lilo in tow.
"Should we put something under his tongue?" Chappu kneeled by Locke. "What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know! We have to take him to the hospital!" Sus screeched.
"Blblblblblblblbl... urk!" Locke foamed at the mouth.
"Calm down everybody, and get yourself to a seat– with seat belts, Chappu," Wakka said.
"Hey guys!" Chappu leaned over the coffee table. "You've got to see this!"
The three men of the Black Wave Society stood patiently for a few minutes longer before Captain Antilles said in his mild-mannered way:
"I don't think he's coming back."
To Be Continued