Chapter 07: Altered Ego
"I truly dread the day that you take the throne, you know."
The Royal Venusian dining room was a cold room. Not literally, of course, the Kingdom of Venus was doing more than well enough to heat their royal palace properly, but despite the lavish decorations and trimmings, it was as if the thousands of arguments and stiff interactions between the royal family had just worn at the environment. Even inanimate decorations could only take so much nastiness before they started to wear down, so it seemed.
Princess Venus kept her eyes down on her bowl, stirring a large bowl of a gourmet soup, trying to keep her disrespect of her parents down to a subtle level. But she was making it particularly hard tonight.
"You hear me?" she continued to prod, looking down the long golden dining table at her daughter. "You don't have anything to say to that?"
"It's not exactly breaking news," Venus muttered through gritted teeth, lifting a spoonful of the soup to her mouth.
"I just don't understand you, why...why are you like this?" she continued. "Do you understand, the responsibilities and the...the gravity of your birthright? Spending all this time off-world, gallivanting around, letting the whole galaxy see you, it's...where did you pick this up from?"
Venus sighed, setting her spoon down on the edge of the bowl. "A whole galaxy of things to do, and you'd have me sitting here in saunas for the rest of my life."
"We are a secretive people, daughter!" Her voice was starting to become a little shrill now. The Princess used to wince at that tone, but she was so used to it now it didn't even affect her. "We have been for dozens of generations, what makes you so special, so different, from our ancestors?"
Venus cleared her throat. "Well, mother...you are a secretive person. Your mother was a secretive person, and her mother, and her mother before her. And I am not."
"You turning eighteen was not supposed to be an open invitation to...to just go wherever you wanted all the time!" she added. "Your home is here! You belong here! Not to mention some of the things you do when you're not here, I...daughter, I have no understanding of why you waste your time with the Moon Princess."
"I like her," Princess Venus answered quietly. "Nothing else to say. She's nice, kind, fun to be around."
She wanted to use the opportunity to throw a barb at her mother, but resisted the urge.
"There's nothing in it for us," the Queen of Venus said, clanging her fork against her golden dinner plate. The Princess finally glanced over to see her practically attack a collection of broccoli with a series of violent stabs. "That Kingdom is practically worthless now, there's no point in making an ally of her." She rolled her eyes.
"She's marrying the Prince of Earth, if you haven't heard the news," Venus grumbled. "That's not nothing."
"Oh, yes, practically...crawling on her hands and knees, rattling a little cup out, looking for charity." She clapped her hands together underneath her chin. "Oh, oh please, mighty Earth Prince, please, save my worthless world! I'll let you lead me around on a leash everywhere we go, if only you'll toss a couple coins my way!"
"It's not like that." Princess Venus tried to be patient, as she knew she was obligated to give her mother some respect, but it was getting harder with each moment. She glanced over briefly at her father, the King, who just sat there meekly, uninterested in taking a side or standing up for anyone. She wondered who she disliked more. At least she had a spine.
"I'll tell you this. If it came to it. I'd sooner burn this entire planet to the ground and toss myself from the top of the Pioneer Tower than beg someone to bail us out." The Queen nodded. "Oh yes, I'd have this entire planet smashed into space dust first. What kind of a...a royal supplicates themselves like that?!"
"Well, given the state of things, it seems...entirely possible that I might yet live to see this entire planet on fire," Venus said bitterly, glancing over at her mother.
"Oh, uh...no," the King finally spoke up. "It's...it's not that bad." He shook his head. "Really, you...you shouldn't say such things." As quickly as he had made himself heard, he grabbed a goblet in front of him and took a drink from it, trying to extricate himself from the conversation.
"Oh, and leaving the planet is one thing, but so help me, if you were to tell anyone about our financial situation, I'll have you locked in the dungeons," the Queen spat. "And if you think I'm joking, just try it."
"Oh...believe me, I don't think you're joking," the Princess replied dryly, beginning to violently stir her soup in front of her.
"I still can't believe you...you actually gave away one of Sita's knives. For, for nothing!" Her face wrinkled, Venus glancing over to catch a peek at her distorted face before taking another spoonful of soup. "You just gave it to her, to a girl with...with nothing but a broken Kingdom to her name!"
"They are my knives, mother," Venus replied warningly. "My knives, to do with as I wish, and I gave one of the dozen that I have to my close friend on what was a very special day for her."
"Why do I have the bad feeling that...that whenever you take the throne, you'll just start giving away all the crown jewels on random whims?" she continued to berate. "That knife was an important part of Venus history. It belongs here. And if that's how you treat them, then perhaps they shouldn't be yours."
"I have eleven more just like it," Venus hissed, barely holding on to restraint now. "I think we'll be alright."
"Oh...you just don't get it," the Queen lamented. "You'll never get it. You don't want to get it." She shook her head. "Sometimes, I...I wish we had decided to have another child—"
Finally, the Princess stood up from the table, extending up to her full height. "You know, it's comical that you treat me like this when I'm here and then actually wonder why I like to spend so much time off-planet!" she snapped. With that, she stormed off, turning down and stomping over towards a hallway behind her. As she disappeared into the hall, she put her right wrist up to her mouth. "Prepare my shuttle!" she grunted.
"
It had been a long day for Kunzite, staking out and keeping an eye on an entire alleyway. Thankfully, this part of Latium was rather light on authorities, as if they had resigned to giving it up to the undesirables, letting them roam free so long as they stayed out of the nicer places in the world. So nobody was around to find it suspicious that a man was hanging around behind a fish market for an entire day.
He may have never tried to sell Imperium before, but Kunzite understood enough about the nature of shady black market deals to know that his proposed meeting place had to be protected. Fortunately, nobody had come through to set up traps or do anything that might interfere with his deal, although he had little doubt that a few of the hundreds of people he had seen go through the area were scoping it out. Ultimately, he could only control what he could control, and there was just plain going to have to be some risk involved in selling Imperium to Imperium dealers. Well, if anyone was equipped to handle such a situation, surely it was him.
Still wearing his rather embarrassing outfit from the day before, the Earth general stood at the east end of the alley, throwing his gaze over his shoulder every now and then but otherwise focused entirely on the space in front of him. A stretch of bland concrete and brick, maybe a hundred paces in length, just a way to cut across streets a little faster and not much else. Just deserted enough to be a good place for an exchange of illicit goods, but just public enough to make things unlikely to go sour.
And then, he thought he saw it. Three men wearing gray outfits, two of them wearing bland hats, walking down the alley from the other side. One of them, the one on the left, had a large sack slung over his shoulder. Kunzite felt the small plasma launcher tucked underneath his overcoat, capable of being whipped out and fired in the time it took to blink. He hoped he wouldn't have the opportunity to use it.
Slowly, he began walking down the concrete path, constantly aware of everything happening around him, as much as there wasn't really anything happening on either side of him. He tried to ignore the fact that he was outnumbered, and instead focus on the fact that he had spent the last day preparing for this.
And then, the collection of people met up near the middle of the alley. All three of Kunzite's prospective partners were quite large, and to most men would have seemed intimidating, but Kunzite had at least half a head on all of them.
"So. You're the man with the magic mix?" the one on the right asked, holding his hand out towards Kunzite, palm out towards him. "That's far enough."
"Which one of you is the man in charge?" Kunzite asked, looking the three over cautiously. The one in the middle seemed to be a bit older than the others, which instinctively made him guess that he might be the head of the outfit.
The one in the middle picked his head up a bit. "Of the three of us, it's me. I've been given authority to approve or deny this transaction. So, why don't we get to that part?"
"As long as you've got your end covered," Kunzite said, looking over at the large sack the man on the left had over his shoulder. "Give me a look."
The man swung his arm down, letting the bag fall to the concrete ground, and then bent down to undo the thick threads that tied it closed.
"Where'd you find this shit, anyway?" the man in the middle asked, eyes darting down to watch his lackey open the sack up.
"That information would cost you a lot more than what's in that sack," Kunzite said simply, watching as the inside of the bag was exposed. Full of rolls of paper currency, a hugely significant representation of wealth. Creds, accepted everywhere in the galaxy with no headaches or reservations, one of the many amazing innovations of King Kasios's reign and a sign of the co-operation the galaxy had been partaking in recently.
"Four hundred thousand for the whole thing," the man said. "Like you said. We want it all."
"Sounds good to me," Kunzite said. "And I'm open to continuing our partnership going forward."
"Depends on how this goes," he said simply, as Kunzite went over to the wall to his left, kneeling down by a couple of large cinder blocks at the base of the wall and carefully pulling them out and apart, exposing a small gap in the construction. He reached in, pulling out a small parcel wrapped tightly in a thick brown paper.
Kunzite stood back up, holding the package in his right hand as his left hand quickly unfolded the edge, opening it up enough to allow the three gentlemen a few paces from him to see inside. Twelve perfectly symmetrical cubes resembling glass were within.
"Toss one of them over," the man on the right instructed, pulling a reader out from his right-hand pocket. Kunzite walked back over in front of the three men, reaching into the opened package and pulling one of the uncias out. He gently tossed it over to the man, who immediately stuck the tip of the reader into it and waited.
After a few beats, he looked over to his right and nodded.
"Alright, you've got a deal." The middle man bent down to pick up the sack of money, taking a few steps forward towards Kunzite with it, right hand out towards him, reaching towards the package. "Alright, let's do it."
Kunzite glanced down towards the large collection of cred bills. "Actually, I—"
His insistence of being allowed to check the money for its authenticity was cut off as, perhaps a beat too late, he noticed the large ring on the man's right hand. Excessive, oversized, not at all fitting with the rest of his dirty outfit...suspicious. Highly suspicious. A beat earlier, and he would have been able to do something with that knowledge. But the man already had his hand on the package of Imperium, the large central piece of the ring pointed right at his chest.
Kunzite was ejected halfway down the alley, a loud boom and a massive concussive blast spewing from the ring and right into the Earth general's ribcage. All the air was sucked from his lungs as he was launched through the air, feeling as if he had just gotten hit by a freighter ship mid-jump. He could feel multiple ribs fracturing in his chest. And then, he hit the ground, haphazardly rolling across it, limbs askew as he tumbled back near the sidewalk.
Through the significant pain, Kunzite had enough of his mental faculties working to feel very stupid, not catching onto the ruse in time to actually counter it. He had relaxed too much, not done enough to secure the transaction, let them control too much of the exchange! As a guardian of the Prince of Earth, he should know much better than that. What was wrong with him, letting a few Imperium smugglers get the jump on him like this?! He'd have to find a way to refocus his mind, this sort of lapse was unacceptable.
And then, he was back in the moment, momentum from the concussive wave finally halting, as he crumbled into a heap a few paces short of the sidewalk. He could hear the buzz of people behind him, as the blast had made quite a loud sound and attracted much attention. He looked up, seeing the three men sprinting away, now in possession of both the sack of money and the Imperium. He wasn't going to catch them. Not even he could overcome that big of a lead, not with broken ribs. He mentally let go of the exchange having gone bad, pushing it from his mind, so he could focus on the task at hand. He had to get out of here before the authorities showed up, he had to get back to the Earth palace, and he had to come up with some excuse for his injuries. Turning around, looking at a small gathering crowd, he quickly stepped forward and pushed his way through roughly, lies already being spun in his head as he made to disappear.
"
"Well, I'm sure if you were going to be beheaded, it would have happened by now," Maria said, sweeping the large whirring brush underneath the bed, using the long rod it was attached to in order to get everywhere along the polished tile.
"I'm just...I'm so embarrassed, that's my first ever interaction with the Prince?" Julia angsted, standing up on a stepladder and putting up a new set of curtains around the bed. "I was so...excited when I got this detail, and...first time I actually get to speak to him, I'm begging for my life?"
"Julia!" Maria said emphatically from down on the floor. "I'm pretty sure you were, at no point, begging for your life! Calm down! The Prince isn't like that, and...he's getting married in a few cycles anyway, you think he cares about something like that right now?"
Julia sighed, finishing putting up the velvet curtain and stepping down to move to the other side of the bed. "Yes, I...okay." She grimaced as she moved the stepladder over. "Breaks my heart, though."
"What?" Maria popped her head up to look over at her fellow palace maid. "Him getting married?"
Julia had a bit of a forlorn smile on her face as she began to unfold the brand new curtain, preparing to put it up.
"Oh, oh, don't tell me!" Maria said, unable to resist grinning up at her. "You weren't actually—"
"Well!" Julia countered defensively. "I mean, it...I thought, maybe that...if I actually got assigned to tend to his bedroom, we might run into each other a few times, and...who knows what can happen?" She shrugged, frantically putting the curtain up. "You know...stranger things have happened!"
"I'm not sure that's true," Maria said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, what girl hasn't had themselves a little fantasy about Prince Endymion, but...you weren't getting your hopes up, were you?"
"How can I not?!" she protested, stringing the thick curtain up along the top of the bed. "I mean, Gods! That...that voice, and that smile!"
"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Maria said, pulling the brush out from underneath the bed and standing up, watching Julia finish her work.
"I mean, he may as well have been constructed in a lab!" Julia continued to gush. "That...that nose—"
"Why, thank you."
Julia froze, hands caught in midair as she watched the bedroom door swing open. Endymion entered the room, holding Serenity bridal-style in his arms, carrying her across the threshold. Her eyes went as wide as dinner saucers.
"For the record, your friend is correct, we're a civilized people and we don't behead people over minor infractions," Endymion said, revealing how long he had been eavesdropping on the maid's conversations. "And thank you, I like my nose too. It's at least my fourth-best feature."
Julia was frozen atop the small stepladder, looking even more terrified than she had been a few days before in the presence of the Prince.
Endymion went over to the bed, gently setting Serenity down on it, who looked decidedly less amused with Julia's little daydream. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking quite grumpy.
"Alright, you done?" Endymion asked, snapping Julia out of her haze and getting her to look up at the curtain before nodding. "Oookay, let's go, then," he said, bending down slightly to give the maid a light little tap on the backs of her legs. With a whimper, Julia jumped down off the ladder, picked it up in her right hand, lifted it up over her shoulder, and sprinted over towards the door.
"I like the curtains, by the way!" Endymion called out at her retreating back as she bolted from the room. Endymion turned to look at the other maid. "You should tell her to lighten up," he said nonchalantly. "It's bad for your health to be scared for your life all the time."
"Yes, Your Highness," Maria said quickly, bowing before following her friend out the door, leaving the soon-to-be royal couple alone.
"I'm not so sure I like your nose," Serenity said jokingly, looking over at Endymion. "It's pointy."
Endymion turned to Serenity. She still carried a slightly-miffed expression. "Oh, don't tell me you're mad at her." He pointed over his shoulder at the door behind him. "Come on, let a girl dream."
"I'll have her thrown in the dungeons first thing tomorrow morning," Serenity said with a playful little grin, scooting over to the edge of the bed and standing up. "Unless you were to...make me forget all about it tonight."
"That can be arranged," Endymion replied, sitting down up near the head of the bed as Serenity made a beeline for the bathing chamber in the adjacent room.
After watching Serenity disappear into the side room, Endymion looked up at the end table by the head of the bed. A small, circular holo-projector was blinking a gentle blue light, prompting him to pick it up in his right palm.
Humming a little tune, he tapped a tiny button along the lip. A holographic projection of an audio wavelength popped up from his hand, floating a little in the air. It began to expand and jitter about as a voice emitted from the little projector.
"Your Highness, just passing along a message from the medical staff. Uh, Kunzite's going to be out of commission for a few days."
Endymion's smile disappeared from his lips, blinking rapidly as he listened to the message.
"Nothing serious, he's totally fine...had a little training accident, fractured some ribs. Don't worry about it, we got him, four or five days at most he'll be fine, just...letting you know."
Endymion's head unconsciously recoiled a bit, mouth opening slightly in shock and confusion as he took the message in.
"Uh, if you...if you wanna see him, he's in his room, resting." The projector shut off, leaving Endymion staring at the air right above his open palm.
Giving his head a little shake, he stood up, haphazardly tossing the projector down to the table. "U-uh, sweetie! I, uh, I've gotta run, be back as soon as I can!"
Without waiting for a reply, Endymion booted it out the door, dashing into the hallway, almost skidding as he swung around the corner and ran off.
"Huh?"
Serenity cracked the washroom door open slightly, peering her head out into the suddenly vacated room, looking around.
"E...Endy?"
"
The electronic door to Kunzite's personal room slid open, allowing Endymion to see exactly what he was dreading. The Crown Prince winced on laying eyes on his most trusted guardian, laying upright on the tight, compact bed. Quickly, he entered the room.
It was hard to imagine a more bland room than Kunzite's personal chambers. The man spent practically no time in there other than to sleep, and as such he had done remarkably little with it. Endymion could have easily mistaken it for a prison cell, with it's plain makeup, little more than a bed, a couple of tables, a desk against the far wall, a stool, and a wooden shelf. He often felt bad for his general, living in such a basic room in what was otherwise an opulent palace, but he could never get him to show any interest in making anything else. Right now, Endymion wasn't even thinking about the dull room. He was thinking about his guardian, sitting there, shirt off and a giant brace around his upper torso.
"Oh, no, I'm…" Endymion grimaced, going over to Kunzite's bedside, worry etched onto his face. "Kunzite, I'm so, so sorry, I—"
Kunzite put his right palm out towards the Prince. "Your Highness, it's fine, really, stop apologizing, please."
"No, no, I…" he shook his head, looking down at the large protective shell that was guarding Kunzite's rib cage as it healed. "Kunzite, I...look at this!"
"It's nothing," Kunzite insisted. "Minor injury compared to the ones I had during my training, I heal much faster than most humans, I'll be fine in a few days, w-wipe that look off your face."
Endymion scoffed, looking around the little room. "How many?"
"Three," Kunzite answered, trying to smile to put his charge at ease. "Don't worry, it's my job."
Endymion pulled a little stool over towards the bed, sitting down on it after getting it up close to the edge. "What happened, buddy?"
Kunzite hesitated, reaching over to a small table by his bed to grab a black remote. He tapped a button on it, causing a dull thud to sound off from the door, locking it securely.
"I was stupid, careless, let them...let them get the jump on me," Kunzite muttered. "Completely my fault, I...I can't believe I let that happen."
"You mean the Imperium dealers?" Endymion asked.
Kunzite nodded. "I'm the one who's sorry, Your Majesty, I...when I'm healed, I give my word I'll be refocused, things like this can't happen. I'm just thankful you weren't there."
Endymion ran his fingers through his hair. "I put you out there by yourself, I...I'm sorry." He gestured at the brace. "No, this...this is me, buddy." He rubbed his forehead, hunched over on the stool. "I...I don't even—"
"For the last time, it's perfectly fine," Kunzite said, doing his very best to sound comforting. "Endymion, think of it like...my role in life, the reason why I'm here, is to have things like this happen to me, so they don't have to happen to you." He pointed down at the brace. "This, this happens to me, I break a few ribs...but if the same thing had happened to you." He gestured at Endymion. "What would happen to you? Shattered rib cage? Broken legs?" He nodded. "That's what matters. I'm happy to take on a little pain if it means protecting you."
"Kunzite, that...that doesn't make it okay for me to...I put you in that position." He shook his head, face wrinkled with regret. "That's not...I shouldn't be doing that." He leaned forward towards Kunzite. "I'm sorry, I'm the sorry one." He pointed at the brace. "This, I...I'm not gonna let this happen to you again." He puffed out his cheeks. "If...if there was an assassin who took a shot at me and you...and you took the blow for me, that's one thing, but…but this...this is something else."
"It doesn't matter, Your Highness, I'm fine. Just be grateful that it was me taking this, and not you, that's the only thing I care about." He nodded. "It was actually a...very cool little weapon they had, I don't know how it works without...ripping the wearer's arm clean off—"
"I'm sorry," Endymion insisted. "I don't care if you don't want me to be sorry, I am sorry. This is on me."
"Alright, just...just forget all of it, okay? Soon as I'm back on my feet, I'll clean all this up, and we'll...we'll discuss our next moves."
Endymion nodded. "R-right."
"Look, Your Highness, it...it wasn't a bad idea, but...maybe we should take this as a sign," Kunzite suggested. "At this point...I could clean all this up, make it like none of this ever happened, and that'd be the end of it, we...maybe we should just do that."
"B-but what about the people who did this to you?" Endymion asked, gesturing at the wound on Kunzite's chest. "Don't you—"
Kunzite's face wrinkled a bit. "In a couple cycles, they'll probably be in a prison cell, or worse. They're street level Imperium dealers, if you're talking about revenge, all we have to do is wait a little bit."
Endymion tilted his head a bit, regarding these comments carefully.
"We'll talk about it more when I'm up," Kunzite said. "For now, just...stay out of trouble, Nephrite'll be there to protect you if push comes to shove, can't imagine why it would...and forget all of this for now."
Endymion stood up. "Alright...feel better, huh? I'll make this up to you."
Kunzite scoffed. "No, no, it's...it's my job. Just...look, we tried. And I'm not saying it wasn't worth a try, or that it was a bad idea, but...we both live in a palace." He shrugged. "Maybe...maybe black market Imperium smuggling just isn't for us."
"
Endymion slowly walked over the threshold into his bedroom, moving much more deliberately than he had when he had left. Immediately, Serenity looked over from her position sitting up on the bed, legs folded underneath her.
"Where'd you run off to?" Serenity asked. "Disappearing like that, I...what was that about?"
Endymion was silent, vacantly looking around his room, mouth closed and chin wrinkled as he held his jaw together tightly. It almost looked as if he had never been in the room before, and was examining it for the first time ever.
"Endy?" Serenity prompted, snapping him out of his daze.
"O-oh, uh...I'm sorry," he said with a quick smile that faded. "Kunzite got hurt, he...he broke some ribs."
Immediately, the mild irritation melted off of Serenity's face, to be replaced by surprise and concern. "Oh, no!" She kicked up into a standing position. "H-how bad is it?"
"Uh, thankfully...he'll be fine," he said. "Training accident, you know how intense he can get."
Serenity nodded. "I'm sorry, I...well, at least he'll be okay."
"I just had to go see for...for myself," Endymion mumbled, glancing back at the bedroom door. "Give him a few days, he'll be a hundred percent. Nothing to it. But I needed to...I wouldn't feel right until I actually saw him."
Serenity sat back down on the edge of the bed, easing up slightly. "I understand."
The two just hung in an awkward silence for a few moments, Endymion looking around his room, Serenity watching him.
"Uh, I'm...I'm going to pick out an outfit for, uh...a meeting," Endymion said, pointing over at his walk-in closet across the room.
"Who are we meeting?" Serenity asked.
"N-not...not necessarily you, uh...some officials from Saturn are flying in sometime this cycle, trying to get us to...to involve ourselves in the civil war happening over there." Endymion began shuffling over towards the closet. "I want to...figure out what I want to wear."
"Do you want my help?" Serenity asked, brightening up a bit. "I'd love to help you pick out clothes! And...I mean, you'll...have to be taking your clothes off a lot to try things on, I wouldn't want to miss that," she added suggestively.
"Uh, no, this...it's a question of diplomacy and style, and...very boring, trust me," Endymion said, going over to the closet. "Go get a massage, maybe."
"Oooh," Serenity said, getting back to her feet. "I like the way you think."
Endymion backed into the closet, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Love you!" he called out loudly. He silently slid a bolt along the top of the door down, locking it, before turning around and looking around the room.
Rows upon rows of set outfits, each one perfectly splayed out on a little metal rack, stood at attention before the Crown Prince. All the walls were made of perfectly reflective mirrors, guaranteeing the ability to view oneself no matter where you stood. Blinking a few times, Endymion began to stroll down the first row, eyes trained on each set of clothing as he past it.
You could have easily clothed a village with Endymion's collection of outfits, so long as the village was populated entirely by moderately tall, thin males. Some of them he had only ever worn once or twice, being kept for a very special occasion that may or may not ever occur again. As he strolled down the row, he could recall each one and it's supposed use. A garish purple suit for the Opera, elaborate silk robes done in the tradition of the Kojiki faith for diplomatic trips to Mars, a lightly-armored dinner jacket set for when you were concerned a high-class event might devolve into a fight, a diamond-studded undershirt and jacket combo for ceremonies on Mercury…
It took some time for him to find something that caught his attention. He stopped in front of a jet black jacket and pants combination with a white shirt underneath, the simple garb completed with a black necktie right above the collar. Three buttons on the jacket, three more on the undershirt. A pair of white gloves hanging out from the front pocket. And a black cape hanging from the shoulders.
A bit of fashion that had originated from the western hemisphere maybe two hundred years ago, often referred to as a tuxedo. He lifted the jacket and shirt off the rack, looking it over, examining it.
Nodding to himself, he hung it back up, then looked over at the far side of the room. Rows and rows of shelves over there. Quickly, he swept over towards it, immediately navigating between the first two rows, hand up to his chin as he looked for something.
Accessories. As many as you could ever want. Cufflinks, belts, bracelets, scabbards, whatever you needed to spice up your outfit you could find here. The Prince wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but surely it had to be somewhere here. If it wasn't here, then it didn't exist.
After passing over a collection of earrings, he found his attention being taken by a hat. A large, tall hat, black with a flat top and a broad brim, propped up on the top level of one of the shelves. Another fashion development from a couple hundred years ago in the western hemisphere, if he recalled correctly. A top hat. He picked it up, looking it over, although his attention was snatched away when he realized that the hat had been covering up another object on the shelf.
A roughly oval-shaped strip of white hardened cloth, two symmetrical holes cut out near the middle, the cloth slightly curved in a few spots. A thick piece of string was tied to either side, threaded through two holes on the edges. He picked it up.
A few years ago, the Earth Palace had thrown a masquerade party, complete with a ballroom dance. He remembered it vividly, an especially fun and amusing night, as neither Kunzite or Nephrite seemed to particularly care to be forced to wear the decorative masks, but had no choice in the matter. And, of course, Serenity had loved every second of it, and he loved that she had loved it. This had been his mask.
Looking the simple, almost cheap mask over, he thought about it for a few moments, then nodded once again.
"
Tugging at the wrist of his right-hand glove, pulling it taut on his hand, Endymion looked into the wall mirror closest to him.
It still fit perfectly, as it hadn't been that long ago he had been measured for it. The vast majority of the outfit was black, which he thought gave himself a look of professionalism, as well as a touch of intimidation. The white of the undershirt, mask and gloves perfectly complemented everything else. The combination of the hat and the mask covered up a good portion of his face. The cape waved every so slightly behind him, reacting to every little movement he made.
He stared at himself in the mirror for several beats, tilting his head back and forth, carefully regarding everything about his appearance.
Satisfied, he began to pull his gloves off.
"
The private classroom where Endymion had been educated by a slew of elite scholars remained well-stocked, as the Prince had only concluded his official education a year ago and it was important that he had access to whatever educational accoutrements he needed, in the event that he wished to advance himself in any one particular field to a further degree. He was grateful for that, in this moment, as he pulled a series of glass jars down from a metal shelf in the back row of a large storage room, placing them into a small green basket.
Satisfied, he turned away from the large collection of chemicals and powders, slowly walking out of the storage room, back out into the square chamber that he had been given countless education lectures in. On a long desk against the east wall, he had already set up a large collection of glassware, with a couple of little burners on the left side.
Endymion set the basket of materials down on the left corner of the table, and then reached forward to twist a little black knob at the base of one of the burners. A small flame jumped up from the nozzle in the middle of it, dancing up into the air.
"
"Dude, once you ride in something that doesn't have wheels...like, even once, you'll never be able to go back to wheeled vehicles," Flavio said, bending down a bit to take a bite out of a bundle of meat wrapped in a thin sheet of bread. "Honestly, you might not even wanna do it, it'll ruin all your other trips for you. Believe me, it kills me having to commute around in that shitty four-wheeler after trying that transport over in the capital city."
"I think I'll manage," Otho replied from the other side of the small round table. The two street level Imperium slingers were having a late breakfast, sitting in an outdoor seating area just next to a meat cart, a popular dining location in Latium. At this particular moment, it wasn't especially busy, as it was past peak breakfast time and before peak lunch time. Still quite public and visible, but not packed. "Besides, with the money I'm making, maybe I'll end up buying an anti-gravity transport soon."
"Oh, stop that," Flavio chided, waving him off. "You don't wanna do that, you're not making that much yet—"
The rest of his sentence never got out, as his focus was absorbed by a most curious sight. A man had come up next to their little table, stopping just a step before it, standing there. Flavio blinked a few times, wondering if he was somehow seeing things, but Otho also turning to regard the odd man confirmed that what he saw was actually there.
The man was dressed far too well for being in such a low-class environment, a mostly-black outfit that belonged at a grade ten restaurant or a fancy merchant party. The large, flat-topped hat atop his head was almost enough to make him look comical, but it was the basic mask covering his eyes and the cape over his shoulders that made him especially hard to take seriously.
Finally, after several beats, Flavio adjusted himself slightly in his seat. "Hey, buddy, there's no kid's birthday party here, you're in the wrong place, get out of here."
Wordlessly, the well-dressed man placed his right hand down flat on the table, getting both men to flinch back a bit. But, just as quickly, he lifted his hand back up, revealing that he had just set a tiny paper envelope down on the table. The two men looked down at it.
"You want the rest, you get me a meeting with the man in charge," he instructed, voice slightly gruff and gravelly. "And I mean in charge."
With that, he silently turned around, walking away from the two. After a couple beats, Otho reached across the table, carefully grabbing the envelope in his fat fingers and pulling it over.
"Careful, that guy...clearly not all there," Flavio warned. "Might have his own...piss in there or something."
Otho, however, on opening the edge and peering inside, had a reaction that was decidedly not one of disgust. "Uh…"
He looked over his shoulder, looking for the strangely-dressed man, twisting his head about before finding him, having taken a seat across the plaza, at an empty table. He seemed oblivious to the odd looks he was getting from everyone who walked by him, just sitting there, gaze transfixed on the two men he had just presented his little gift to.
"We're, uh...we're gonna wanna take this in," Otho said nervously, standing up. "Come on, finish eating, let's go!"
"
The small brownstone building had been subject to the ravages of time and neglect, no different from any other building in this part of the town. The two-story complex looked quite sturdy, but otherwise the structure was a rather sad and depressing sight. Paint chipped, stones missing from the walls, and windows dirty and curtained off. It looked like a building that might serve as a den for an Imperium kingpin.
Two large men in black uniforms were milling around right outside, no doubt guarding the location. In a nicer city it would have been suspicious. Here, you just didn't want to stare too long at them, lest you become a target.
Endymion, still wearing his 'disguise', had been escorted to the building by the pair of Imperium dealers, a silent trek through city streets. It would seem that Endymion's little taste of Imperium had earned him enough respect from the pair, as they refrained from making further cracks about his clothes. He held a small paper package in his right hand, the ticket by which he would be granted admission to meet whoever called the shots in this particular racket of Imperium smugglers.
He was guided through the front doors of the building, large and green made of thick steel. He heard it locking behind him. His insides were doing flips as he was trapped inside, glancing around to find at least a dozen men milling about on mismatched couches and chairs, watching handball on a holographic projector in the northeast corner of the first floor. Any one of those men were bigger and likely stronger than him, despite Endymion's training courtesy of his guardians.
He just prayed his terror wasn't being displayed outwardly.
They led him into a side room over to the right of the entrance. To his surprise, sitting behind a wooden desk, was the least imposing individual he had seen thus far. In fact, the individual behind this desk didn't look like she belonged at all.
Yes, she. A woman was sitting there, bright orange hair falling just short of her shoulders, wearing a red jacket and blue scarf. She was...honestly, rather attractive, curves quite eye-catching and face pleasant to view. For a moment, Endymion wondered if this was a joke. But, he had to admit, the two large men flanking her were rather convincing.
He slowly walked over to the desk, feeling a handful more large men behind him, watching his every move. Even though they had not drawn weapons, he could almost feel the barrels of their plasma blasters on his back. One wrong move, and he'd be filled with holes before he could turn around. Or maybe just wish they had killed him.
What in the hell was he doing?
He set the package down on the desk in front of the woman, who immediately reached forward to open it up. She peeled the paper back to expose the libra of refined Imperium.
"Well, I could hardly believe there was so much as a scrap of Imperium like this in the entire universe, much less a full libra," she said, voice slightly shrill and abrasive. "But, now there's even more...I have to ask." She looked up at Endymion. "How much of this stuff do you have?"
Endymion was silent at this question, standing there, trying to look intimidating. He had no way of knowing if it was working. Probably not.
"What's with the tuxedo?" she asked, pointing at Endymion's jacket.
Endymion thought for a moment, trying to feel how close the people behind him were. He had to execute this perfectly. He took a brief glance down at the desk, finding a potted plant to the woman's immediate right that he thought might suit his needs.
"I like to dress up," Endymion replied, battling the tumultuous battle inside his gut that was enough to make him want to puke.
She nodded, giving an amused grin. "What's with the mask?"
"...facial scars," he answered. He just had to focus on following the plan. If he could just stick to the script, he might have a chance. He had thought of everything, he just needed—
"What's your name?"
Shit.
He hoped that his sudden shock at the question didn't register on his face, his mind frantically scrolling through various names that he could use. Every one that popped up in his panicked mind was quickly spat out as being a name from someone close to him, possibly implicating him. He needed a name, something that wouldn't link him to the palace, something...something…
"Hey? Name?" she insisted.
"...Tuxedo Mask," Endymion managed to blurt out.
An extended silence, Endymion mentally kicking himself throughout its duration. How could he forget to come up with a fake name?!
"Excuse me?" she demanded. "What was that?"
"Tuxedo Mask," Endymion doubled down, figuring that he was stuck with it.
She gave a little laugh. He was sure he heard a couple from behind him as well. "No, seriously, cut the...cut the shit, what's your name?"
"I just gave it to you," he insisted.
"Alright, fine...Tuxedo Mask," she said, giving him a curious look before standing up. "I'm Mimete. I run the Imperium black market around here. And not even a day ago, I had a man come to me with a batch of product. Looked very, very similar to what you've brought me today." She pursed her lips together. "You know, I'm not saying coincidences don't happen, I just...don't really believe in them."
"Right. Well, that was my partner. And I'm here because I'm not entirely happy with how that transaction ended," he said, voice low and even.
Mimete laughed, head kicking back slightly as she gave an obnoxious cackle. "Oh, not entirely happy?" she repeated. "You don't say?"
"So, here's my proposal," Endymion continued. "One million, one hundred thousand creds. In bills."
"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed, still obviously amused by this interaction. "Wow, I...I knew you weren't completely right upstairs, but...man!" She laughed again. "One point one million, how do you...how do you figure?"
"Four hundred for what you stole from my partner. Four hundred for what I've brought to you today. And I'll say, a hundred thousand for each of his ribs that you broke. And we'll let this go."
He could hear uproarious laughter getting kicked up behind him. He tried to not let it bother him. His focused remained on Mimete, in front of him, as she similarly laughed his request off.
"Oh, boy, boy, BOY!" she shouted. "You...you're something else!" She wagged her finger over at the Prince in disguise. "Where the hell did you come from?! Gods, I've seen some nutters in my time, but...wow!" She blinked a few times. "Three broken ribs? That's it?" She gave a little shrug. "Your boy is tough, then. That would have killed most men."
Slowly, with a subtle move of his right leg that could barely be detected, he scraped the bottom of his shoe along the floor, dislodging something stuck underneath it.
"Either way, I mean, after what we did to your friend, I...buddy, not that I'm complaining, but, you really should have gotten our message yesterday. Take the loss and move on." She pointed up over Endymion's shoulder. "Alright, my associates here are gonna have some questions for you about your source of product. We can do this the easy way, but personally, I prefer the hard way."
Endymion raised his hand up towards Mimete, palm out. "Oh no no, you...you misunderstand."
She squinted over at him, tilting her head a bit. "How do you figure...Tuxedo Mask?"
"We...we got your message, loud and clear," Endymion explained, sweating buckets underneath his tuxedo as he felt the men behind him were mere paces away. "It's just...you ran off so fast, you didn't get a chance to hear our reply."
His felt the tiny little object underneath his shoe, beginning to apply pressure down onto it, pressing his weight onto it.
"So...Mimete. If. I. May."
He heard the little crack as the object beneath his shoe broke. A tiny little capsule, cracking open like an egg and releasing a splash of a white liquid. He quickly stuck his heel into the tiny puddle, just as Mimete's eyes dropped down towards where the sound had come from. He felt a slight bubbling under his foot, as the powder on his heel reacted with the liquid he had just released.
Mimete opened her mouth. Probably to order her underlings to grab Endymion. Whatever it was, it never got said.
"
The uneventful, dull day was suddenly interrupted by a horrific, inexplicable, violent burst of sound. A loud screech, ear-splitting, blasted in all directions from a poor-condition brownstone, the piercing sound so deafening and unpleasant it was practically a visible pulse. Everyone within three dolichos would hear it, everyone within a single dolicho would get a migraine from it. And to those on the same street? Well, you'd be in dire need of an appointment with a scientist who specialized in ear treatments.
Everything made of glass on the block was shattered into millions of pieces, the unholy screech practically vaporizing it all into dust. In nearby buildings, people were sent flying to the floor, hands over their ears, desperately trying to protect their sensitive eardrums from any further assaults. At ground zero, it was so deafening, you couldn't have been blamed for fearing that it might just destroy the entire building.
And then, as quickly as it had come into the world, it left. As far as almost everyone who heard it would ever know, it was an inexplicable act of the Gods. There was plenty of evidence that it had happened, broken glassware and damaged eardrums, but there would never be any sort of explanation for it.
"
Endymion had to act quickly. Everyone in the room, and he knew in the rest of the building, would be disoriented for several beats. For his part, the genius scientific minds on Mercury had spared him any actual harm. Two little blue beads in his ears, in normal circumstances hardly even visible, would fill to expand his entire ear canal when they detected high-decibel sounds, covering the entire eardrum in a thick cushion of protection. Hardly any of the horrific screech had gotten it's way through, and as soon as the noise had passed, the beads contracted again into tiny little specks. A spectacular little invention.
He grabbed the potted plant on the desk, taking the quickest of glances down at Mimete, who had fallen to her knees and was clutching at her ears, slowly shaking her head, giving off little moans of pain. He dumped the plant and dirt out of the pot onto the floor, and then reached down to his belt buckle. He ripped a large tablet off of the back of the buckle, crushing it between his right thumb and index finger and letting it fall into the bottom of the container.
Then, spinning around and backing against the left wall of the room, away from everyone else, he began to dance his fingers along the buttons running down his tuxedo jacket, stopping on each one to pull a tiny little ball of what looked like a white chalk from each one. Soon, he had half-a-dozen of the pebble-sized balls in his hand. He held them over the pot, which now had a coating of the foamy white liquid along the bottom of it.
"Ohhhhh...ahhhhh..." Mimete finally got to her feet, hands still up on her head, squeezing her eyes shut tightly in pain. "Oh...oh, what in the…" Both of her ears were bleeding profusely, little streams of blood pouring down the sides of her face. "Holy...holy…"
Endymion glanced over to his right, seeing four men just starting to gather themselves and get up off the floor, each of them bleeding profusely from their own ears.
"What the shit was that?!" Mimete yelled, drawing Endymion's attention. "You—"
"Would you like to hear it again?!" Endymion growled, threateningly holding his hand over the small brown pot, ready to drop the rest of the chalky powder in.
"No, NO!" Mimete yelled, holding her hands out towards Endymion. "No, no, that's...don't!"
Endymion just stood there, waiting for someone to do something to prompt him to kick off yet another chemical reaction that would deafen everyone within range. Nobody made a move.
"Ohhh…" she pressed her fingers into her temples, massaging her head. "My...my ears…"
"Temporary," Endymion snarled. "This much, on the other hand...shred your eardrums permanently! Not that you'll care. You'll black out from the pain, and then I'll kill you and take whatever I want!"
"I...I got no idea what you're saying, I can't hear shit!" Mimete said, sounding a bit frantic. "Okay, just...just…" She looked over at the four men on the other side of the room. "Someone, go get him his money!"
"I...I can't hear you!" one of them shouted, still wincing and rubbing at his ears.
Mimete emphatically pointed at Endymion. "Him!" she shrieked. She then raised both her hands up, rubbing her thumbs along the tips of her fingers. "Money!" She pointed towards the door to the room. "Go!"
Two of the men got the message, ducking out of the room, staggering off, balance slightly out of whack in the aftermath of the sonic eruption.
"Ohhh…" Mimete continued to moan, grabbing a couple of loose pieces of paper from her desk and pressing them up to the floods of blood coming from her ears, trying to soak it up. "My head…what the hell is that stuff?"
Endymion swallowed down some bile that had built up in his mouth. "Just a bit of science."
Her eyelids fluttered about, shaking her head violently. "Uh...hey...Mask," she managed, clearly still struggling with the after-effects of the sound burst. "Tuxedo Mask, whatever, uh...maybe we got off on the wrong foot."
Endymion glanced over at the two men who had remained behind in the room, then turned back to Mimete.
"Look, uh...I'll consider us square if...hey, if there's any more of this stuff, bring it here," she suggested, pointing at the paper bundle on the desk. "It's incredible stuff. I mean, maybe...maybe I had the wrong idea about what kind of operation you're running. Maybe we can work something out."
The two men re-entered the room, a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder. He ripped the mouth open, presenting it out towards Endymion. It was loaded with bundles of money roughly stacked on top of each other. He tossed it to the floor at Endymion's feet. Satisfied with the payment based off cursory inspection, the Prince ducked down and quickly shrugged the strap onto his shoulder, lifting the heavy collection of currency up.
"Alright, uh…" Mimete pointed at another one of the men. "Can you hear me?! Can you hear me?!"
"Uh…" the man raised his right hand up and shook it back and forth in a gesture best representing 'kind of'.
"Okay!" Mimete pointed at Endymion. "Escort him out!" She spoke slowly and emphatically. "Make sure nobody gets in his way!"
Slowly, Endymion shuffled over towards the door, the three men who hadn't just been given an order giving him a wide berth. The fourth man went out in front of him.
"Be in touch?" Mimete asked. Endymion gave no verbal or physical reply, warily walking across the room and following out the door. "Alright, we gotta evacuate, round everyone up!" she instructed.
"
Two streets south and a block to the east from the brownstone, Endymion finally stopped his hurried, hunched, paranoid walk. He straightened up, glancing behind him, finding nobody pursuing him. Hand still clutched around the pebbles of powder, brown plant pot tucked underneath his left arm, brown sack slung over his shoulder, he could only imagine how he looked to passerbys. Fortunately, the people he did see milling about still seemed to be in a bit of a daze, wandering around in confusion, far more interested in whatever had assaulted their eardrums.
He stopped next to a small transport, room enough for maybe four people, a rectangular-shaped vehicle, black with white decals, the interior protected by a spherical bubble of metal.
He slipped the little pebbles of powder into his left pocket, and reached around himself to pull a tiny remote from his right pocket. He tapped a couple buttons on the remote.
The bubble of metal retracted, exposing the four-seated transport's interior. He tossed the large bag of money into the seat across from the pilot seat, set the pot in the foot well below the seat, and then quickly jumped up into the main seat of the shuttle. Finally relaxed a bit, he leaned over, opening the bag of money, both hands roaming through the creds, making sure that he hadn't been given anything else.
Taking in a deep, settling breath, he straightened back up in the seat. Hand dancing along the main console, the shuttle activated, jumping up to levitate a bit above the ground. He leaned his head back, a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips.
And then, he keeled over, retching, vomiting the contents of his stomach out into the leg space beneath him.
It took a few pushes for Endymion to purge everything out, an unpleasant soup of half-digested food and stomach acid building up on the floor of the shuttle. Finally, with a couple of final pumps, he was empty, all the tension in his body seemingly being released through his digestive tract. He lifted his head back up, taking in a deep breath of air, sucking down oxygen. Unfortunately, the smell from his mess made this process quite unpleasant for him.
Reaching up to wipe some spittle from his lip and chin, thanking every God that there was that nobody could see him right now, he meekly reached forward, the shuttle beginning to shoot forward down the rough street, agnostic to the condition of the road thanks to the anti-gravity pads. Endymion sighed down at the mess beneath his feet.
Perhaps, because of this, he was completely unaware of the small figure, hooded in a golden cloak, emerging from an alley behind him, watching him putter off into the distance.