"They're a little dull, and rusty, but they'll last."

A little dull, and rusty, was far from what they were. While he was able to see them on that day that happened last September, he wasn't able to take all that grand a look at them. The sky was overcast, and the shop wasn't all that well lit, and he was a bit blindsided by his excitement over seeing them to take notice of their many flaws. Mr. Bonnaire was doing only as a salesman would in enticing him with pretty words so he'd buy them; after getting the license that showed him as being a citizen of Germany, then going back to the shop for the claw-shaped knuckle dusters, then seeing them for what they really were, he should of shook his head then voiced his disinterest in them. Instead, he bought them, and the two knives and pair of brass knuckles, then went home.

The six-inch blades, he thought while on the way home, could be cleaned to look like new. He could also use one of them knife sharpening kits, or stones, on them to work their dullness away. He spell-sent his purchases home, then went home himself, then felt himself compelled to dive into his curiosity over his new dusters. While he stashed the knives and brass knuckles in one of his dresser drawers, he donned the dusters; they damn near fell apart on him while he did so.

The leather gloves were found to be very badly cracked and dry on the inside. Some of the blades were found to be loose on the part that they went into. The bands, that went around the arm right under the elbow, were found to be slit. And one of the light-weight bars, that connected the glove and its attached blades to the arm-worn bands, was broken in the middle. Along with knowing that they were homemade, he knew that he'd not be able to sanely display them in his room, so he put them in a box, which was then stored in his closet. After seeing the state of his dusters, he checked the other items that he bought for issues that he hadn't noticed before buying them—quite relievedly, the skull and crossbones knife, that had a knuckled guard, and the spiked knuckle knife, and the pair of brass knuckles were all in good shape; all of the items that he bought for his brother were in fine shape while the ones that he bought for him, and that got his attention, weren't. He was blue over this for all of twenty minutes before the idea of going to one of them arts and crafts stores, and then a hardware store, came to him. He could repair the dusters himself, then clean and sharpen the blades, then put them up in his room.

"Course, was never able to do that." Lhaklar thought while taking the chair to the dining room table out from where it was then setting everything that he had in his arms down on the table. "Too much shit going on last year for me to make the trip to them stores, or fix my dusters up."

Now that things looked to be a little more mellow, he decided to go on and get his dusters a stand to be displayed on and then the stuff to both clean and repair them with. Once he sat before the item that he was about to perform a sort of surgery on, he got to work; the first thing that he did was use the slotted screwdriver to remove the base from the gloves. He then removed the blades that were still attached to them. Seeing as the gloves were so badly maintained, he threw them away then took the new pair up from where they were. Before applying the glue to the back of the two bases, he cleaned, then buffed, them well; a small squirt of E-6000, which was the only glue out there that could be applied to both metal and fabric surfaces, was put on the back of the bases then the bases were put to the side until the glue became tacky. Once the glue was tacky, he flipped the bases over then pressed them to the backs of the gloves.

Once the bases were on the gloves, he grabbed one of the blades then went to work in cleaning it with the solution, which was nothing more than nail polish. He did this in turn, so to let each blade dry before going on to use the 3-in-One oil on them. He was just gearing up to put the first blade on one of the bases when the chair across from him was pulled out from under the table; his father, while slow in sitting down, wasn't slow in acknowledging him, or what he was doing.

"Take it that you have a big interest in these handheld melee weapons?" his father asked.

"Only if they look fitting to me." he replied.

Going by feeling alone, he knew that the eyes, that, except for being silver, looked so like his own, were looking down at what he was trying to put together. He continued working on his dusters, regardless of his father's presence and of the nervousness that he brought along with him. It was very important that he keep his eyes on where his hands went on the blades and that he see where they were suppose to go on the bases—he didn't want to screw up his dusters, or cause himself to bleed and then his father to flip out on him being cut.

While he wasn't a big fan of them large, handheld melee weapons, like swords, spears, axes, and knives, he was a fan of the type of weapon that one could wear on their hands and that looked like fingernails or claws. About two years ago, he became a Freshman owner of one of them types of weapons that looked like what Freddy Krueger would wear; sadly, they were no longer in his possession. They were confiscated, one by one, and then put in his father's weapons room. The weapons that he was currently working on looked like what the Wolverine would wear; he was to try his damnedest to keep them in his possession for a while.

While he watched the movies, and knew the characters well, he wasn't obsessed over Freddy Krueger or the Wolverine. He did think that they had good weapons on them, though. In his mind, the weapon that he use to own, and the weapons that he currently owned, were just as good as them; they were easy to wield, were light-weight, and there was nothing to hinder the one who used them from using them.

"Use them yet?" his father asked.

"No. Haven't had reason to." he answered.

His old weapon, which was a set of finger knives, was bought on the planet Viro. Once he and his mother were home from their trip to the planet, he hid them in a Cigar box then put them under the ground, right before the first step of the porch that went to his family's old residence. While he didn't have an intention to use them, he found himself as doing so one day; after the phone lines went down, and he and his brothers decided to go to their mother's old workplace to see if she was okay, they found that she was both surrounded by people that they didn't know, or remember, and that one of them had his hand on her. Trobrencus, who started fighting Bile right after they arrived to the Food Lion, and Bahne, who he warned to stay away from him after noting that she was coming towards him, probably still had the marks from his knives on them.

He used them on his father too. The man, along with entering his family's old abode illegally, had taken all of their material possessions and then waited for him and his family to come home so he could abduct and then take them to Moas. If he recalled correctly, he used them on him more than once.

"Think I used them on a Goblin or two too." he thought after the first blade was in place.

"Where'd you get them?" his father asked.

"From the pawnshop in town." he replied.

"The same one that you bought the guitar, and the two guns, from?" the man asked.

"Uh-huh."

He and Hazaar came home from the dump about four hours ago. Along with doing their now-usual in taking a shower after returning from a trip to the dump, they cleaned all of what they found then gave it out. Everyone was more than happy to see and then receive what they found—Eshal especially so! Hazaar found her another of them poseable dolls, but this one wasn't a representation of one of the planet's known ape species, or was anatomically correct. It did resemble a real baby, though. It had soft, brown hair, blue eyes, and life-like wrinkles on its feet; it was wearing a polka-dot outfit that had a pink bib on it that said Daddy's Little Girl on the front. It wasn't until after Eshal received it that it was noticed that the bib was reversible, and that it had Mommy's Little Girl on the back.

All of the stuffed animals that they found were given a round in the washing machine. After being removed from that appliance, they were hand-dried then given to their sister; it looked like Eshal still had an interest in them, and it looked like she enjoyed the priviledge of getting them too. She liked the other items that she received too.

He and his brothers acted happy and excited about what was found for them too, but they were more mature than Eshal over what was given to them. Their father was more than a little ecstatic over what was found for him; as expected, World War Five did happen after the two swords were brought out.

While their father wasn't as interested in the Sawfish sword, he was interested in the other one. Bile and he "fought" over it for nearly an hour before it was suggested that a sort of "reimbursement" be given to both the one who found it and the one who wanted it—€45 was given to Hazaar while Bile was promised the next sword that was found in the next dump that was picked. Bile was able to keep the other sword; there was just not enough squabbling available to worry about who got it.

"What happened to the guns that I bought and then transferred to you?" Lhaklar asked his father.

"Spell-sent home. They're in my weapons room; all propped up and ready for the ever-wondering eyes of my visitors to see." his father replied.

"Take it that the bat-related things, that I gave you, got the same treatment?"

"Yes, as did the Platypus items."

"And the flask kit that Hazaar found and then gave to you?"

"Sent home, where it'll stay for a while."

It was a shock to all of them that the old man didn't seem all that interested in the flask kit that Hazaar found for him at the dump. The man, while appreciative towards the gesture of his second youngest son finding it for him, had disclosed an interest in either selling it to a friend of his or keeping it in his possession until someone who had an interest in it showed up. Hazaar, while upset over this, wasn't upset for long—he found a few other things that did gain the old man's attention, and that he was very keen on saying he was keeping.

One of the items that he found was a perfectly preserved, but wet, bat. It was in a globe that had a very dark metal base on it. Another was of this preserved bat that was both hanging upside down and on a metal chain—as strange as it was, it was a necklace of sorts. The next item that was given over, and that was kept, was of this odd and alien-looking winged creature that was in this small mason jar. The final item that was kept was a long, dark brown wool and cashmir coat—it did look up their father's alley, so there was no surprise on his end that he'd like it.

"Any "spiders" come creeping your way since me and Hazaar, and Bile, were away from the roost?" he asked.

"Funny, son." his father returned.

He finished the repairing of his weapons then slid them across the table, so his father, who looked to be very interested in them, could see them up close. Once his weapons were looked over, then returned to him, he picked them up then excused himself. He went up to his room, where he spent the next two hours in.

He looked at the book that Hazaar gave to him on Christmas, then at the one that was about Korea's Love Land park, then listened to some music. He was about to switch CDs when the horn of his mother' car was heard. Seeing as he had nothing better to do—other than go down to say hello to his mother, and try to rein in his horniness, of course—, he left his room then went straight to Guyunis's.

After entering his brother's room, he stopped short then fought to not smile. Most of what was found for Guyunis was on his bed; Guyunis was looking it over while also trying to keep an eye on his cat, who was having a blast in going from one of the things that were found for her to the next. Instead of making his brother jump by just speaking without knocking and then making his presence known, he knocked then cleared his throat.

"Hmmm, wonder what it'll be that you'll crack open and then have fun with first." he said after clearing his throat.

"Question tha-k-t I want to know too." Guyunis returned.

"If I were you, I'd make that polariod become a small poster." Lhaklar winked his left eye.

"I'll probably to that." Guyunis said. He then pointed at his cat. "Sabine says thank you for wha-k-t was found for her."

"Don't be saying your thanks to me on what was found for her. It wasn't me that found it." Lhaklar said.

"I know, bu-k-t, still, thanks."

"Welcome."

An activity that he thought was odd began right after he entered the room. Guyunis put the model of the Bone To The Bone motorcycle to the side, then he put the other models that he was given in a neat stack beside it. After doing this, his brother made a pile before them of the other stuff that he was given. It took him a while to realize that his brother was organizing all of what he was given.

The four Ripley's Believe It Or Not books had fine covers on them that moved whenever one moved them; he found that as being rather cool. Hazaar managed to find two books on motorcycles for their brother; he also found him a few knives, and two pairs of boots. The motorcycle alarm clock, that was also found, was another thing that Hazaar came across—Guyunis was more than happy to receive that!

In all, Guyunis had seven models on his bed—the one of a rather bloody, and near-naked, female vampire, and the one of Halle Berry as the Catwoman, were found by Hazaar while the rest were found by him. He was honestly looking forward to when his brother started putting them together, and when he started putting them on one of his shelves.

Sometime after last year's Christmas, Guyunis did a little rearranging and decorating in his room. Most everything on the walls was taken down and everything on his bookcase was removed from where it was and then either cleaned and returned to their former places or given new homes. No one really knew where the shelves came from. They were put on the walls just before Guyunis dived into the first of his Christmas-received models. Rather surprisingly, Guyunis sold the Tibetan rug that he found in one of Colorado's many dumps last year—with it looking to be a rather expensive rug, maybe it was where their brother came up with the dough for his shelves?

It was nice to see that his brother's room was more lived-in. It was also nice to see that the chicken poster, and the cuckoo clock, were back up; a few weeks ago, Guyunis took them down. The clock was noted as not working, and needed a maintenance check before being put back on the wall that it was on, and the poster needed a piece of cardboard behind it to make it not so flimsy. The poster was back to being behind his brother's bedroom door, while the clock was sitting rather cozy-like beside the room's one window. When the poster was removed from where it was, it was his wish and hope that it'd be put on another of the room's walls, so not to be overlooked by anyone who came in. Sadly, that never happened.

He hoped that, when the move from the planet was done, his brother would be allowed to keep all of what he owned and be able to display it in the room that he was given. Now that Guyunis and the old man were getting along, and were talking to one another, and now that Guyunis was nearly back to sitting in his old chair at the table, he was starting to wonder where his room at the mansion would be. Would it be across from his, or Bile's, or would it be down the hall from them? Would Guyunis get the priviledge of having the room beside his own be connected to his and then be converted into a display place for his hunting trophies and models? Would Guyunis's room be on the same level as his and his brothers'? If he recalled correctly, his and his brothers' rooms, and Eshal's room, were all on the second level; he hoped that Guyunis wasn't given a room away from theirs and that he'd be treated as an equal to them after the move was made. It'd be a dirty shame if the old man went and started treating him as second best, or as someone who didn't matter... and it'd be infuriating too.

Guyunis was one of them, and he deserved the same treatment as them. He was their brother, not someone who needed to be swept to the side, or only thought of when certain events came around, or when he was brought up by someone in the house.

"Think I need to go down to the basement for a bi-k-t." Guyunis said. He turned from the now neatly organized pile that was on his bed then started towards him. "Need some board for that polariod, and there's some down there now tha-k-t I can use."

"Want me to blow it up to being like a small poster?" he asked.

"Sure. Keep an eye on Sabine while you do that, okay? She's a bit crazy righ-k-t now."

"Will do."

Unbeknown to his bruder, who was thinking that it'd be the motorcycle model that he'd build first, it wasn't that model that he wanted to break open, build, and then display in his room. It was the one of the Kayan woman, who had brass rings around her neck that made her neck stretch up to eleven inches, that he was more interested in doing. If his model paint and glue supplies hung in there, he'd do the bone motorcycle, and then the model of the man who had the real long fingernails, next. With his having as many unopened models as he did, he might not get any next month or the following one.

While he liked all of the things that were found and then given to him, it was the mutilated doll that he found himself as not having all that much pull towards. He wasn't a doll-man, nor did he like dolls. Dolls were for girlies; the stuffed bear that Bile had wasn't a doll, and didn't look girlie-approved, so Bile was safe on account of that. The doll, while cool, and non-girlie, was still a doll. He'd have to speak to Lhaklar on it because, honestly, he saw no reason to keep it, or display it in his room. If his bruder wanted it, he'd let him have it and, if not, he'd speak with Bile on it before making the decision to go to the place where he knew dolls were sold and then sell it to the person who ran it.

With what was found for him at the latest dump that his bruders searched, he might need to get another shelf put up in his room. He didn't want his already present shelves to get overloaded with models, or just build and then store the models that his bruders found for him somewhere in his closet. Seeing as he and his family were slated to be removed from the planet in November by the man who continued to call him 'son', he might need to approach him on getting some shelves or something put up in the space where he was to sleep and half-so live in soon.

He wasn't stupid by any means. He knew very well that his family were to be relocated to some planet called Moas; unlike the previous few months, where he was against it, he was looking forward to when it happened. He was curious about the planet, and the residence that he was to be moved into, and he was halfway hoping for the time to go by a little quicker so he could see what was in store for him. According to the man who was his mutter's husband, he had a big place that was situated on a large plot of land; after the move was made, would he be allowed to be the "son" of his mutter, or be looked at as a butler or servant in that big house? Would he be given a closet-space to sleep and live in, or a room that was as big as his bruders' own? Would he have to take his meals in secret, or be allowed to take them in while having his family around him? Would he be allowed to sleep on an actual bed, or on the cold, hard floor? Would he—

"Stop!" he told himself. "Tha-k-t man doesn't seem the type to do that to anyone."

"People change, remember that." the voice inside him, which he hadn't heard for a while now, said to him.

"Maybe he won't." he said. "Maybe he's a good man, and won-k-t do as everyone else that's loaded with dough has with me."

"Nadja and Leon sure started out nice only to turn sour in a heartbeat. So did their daughter, remember?"

"Mum wouldn't le-k-t him treat me like a slave or servant either. I'm sure of tha-k-t."

"Are you? Money changes people, and you're to be moved into the home of a rich person soon... a rich person who might just turn your mutter, and bruders, against you."

"Stop! Just stop."

The voice that he heard had tormented him for weeks after he found his family's former apartment as being empty. In a way, it was the only company that he had in the two months that he spent on his own. It was also the only sense of comfort that he got in that time too. This voice stopped being heard after his mutter came to claim him. The dreams that took its place, while scary to both him and his mutter, who he woke up on the nights that he had them, were annoying but he managed to overcome them. They had yet to make a return; why had the voice returned? The last time he heard this voice was on the twenty-secondth; the day after the man who was his mutter's husband called him 'son'.

He didn't want to hear this voice, or experience the dreams again; he wanted to go on with life as he knew it, and be happy while experiencing it.

With a considerable amount of effort, he silenced the voice then went down the stairs. He went to the basement—an area in a residence where he use to find himself as staying in during his containment periods, where he wasn't needed to do any chores by the members of his former adoption families—then did as he needed to do in finding one of the available cardboard boxes and then cutting a piece of it that'd fit the polariod that Lhaklar had probably already blown to being the size of a small poster by now. After the poster-cut was made, he went back to the main portion of the house.

While his trip across the kitchen was unmarred, the one across the dining room was. His mutter and her husband were speaking in the living room; it sounded like they were talking about him, and about some company that his mutter was halfway willing to let come over. After hearing them, he stopped then stood by the window that looked in on the living room, just out of sight of his parent and her spouse. He started listening to them as they spoke to one another.

"Don't you think it's a bit soon? You and he just got in with one another; I'd hate to see any progress that you've made with him be dropped after another party comes in." his mutter was saying.

"He's going to have to get use to him one of these days, Angel." his mutter's husband returned.

"Don't do as you did two years ago, Tazir. Too much on his plate is not good. For both him, me, and his brothers. Eshal too."

"How's one person adding too much on his plate?" the man, who sounded a bit annoyed, asked. "Angel, I'm not throwing out invitations, or calling everyone then saying for them to rush over here. I know better now than to do that."

"And yet you want to bring him here."

"Nine days ago, you seemed very for this happening."

"And, with what was exhibited in him on the twenty-first and twenty-secondth, I decided to not be like that."

"Angel!"

"Don't start it, Tazir. Guyunis has gone through a lot over the years; to allow for people in the family to come over could spell trouble, and not just for him either."

His mutter went on. Saying how changed he and his bruders became after Mr. Surfeit and his daughter moved in, and how long it took them to get use to them and then make a return to how they lived their lives. She went on about the challenges that he and his bruders had to face with the man who was her husband when he decided to go to Jerk Town on them, then with their sister, who decided to turn on them.

His hand reached up to touch the chain that was wrapped around his neck. This act of his, which he very nearly stopped doing a couple of months ago, returned after the man and his daughter moved into the house; he had yet to stop it. While his old chains, which came from the Meyer's attic, were no longer around, he had managed to find a few lengths behind a building; after finding them, he took them up then started wearing them. He knew that his mutter didn't like his use of them but he wasn't able to stop the habit; according to his bruders, they looked cool on him while, with him, their use was a lot more dense than that. While he knew they were cool on him, and brought out his image, he also knew that they served the purpose of his remembering his past.

While he tried to take them off a few times over the months that his mutter had him, he hadn't been able to do so. Maybe he'd be able to do that one day but, right now, not now.

He was about to move past the window, and go back up to his room, when his mutter and her husband resumed what they were speaking about. His blood ran cold when he heard this next part of the conversation.

"I don't know, Tazir. I just think it's not the right time to do this." his mutter said.

"Angel, you know Cheshire well. He'll not hurt a hair on any of them boys, Guyunis included." the man said.

"Yeah, but—"

"He wants to see and spend a little time with his grandchildren, Angel. Guyunis included—not sure if you know or not but the man's been speaking of Guyunis like he's a grandchild of his. He's also very open to calling him his grandson and he won't stop, even though I've cautioned him on it."

"If the others found out—"

"They won't."

"How do you know that? With your nephew in the Americas, his parents are probably constantly on the horn with him and might well find out that he's here... or you might slip up in telling them... or they'll hear him in the background then make the automatic decision to come over and create trouble. This place isn't as big as the mansion—it can't fit my grandfather and his family, my great-grandfather and his family, Trobrencus and his family, or the rest of the Surfeit and Ubalki clans."

"Do you trust me?"

"..."

"Angel, listen, even if they found out by some means that he's here, they won't be allowed to come in to bother anyone. I'll be sure to tell them something if they found out that he's here. No one from my father's side of the family will be coming over to play visit, or to hold the place up for a while, and the same goes for anyone else on my mother's side of the family. You can trust me on keeping things low, slow, and content for both you and the boys. I give you my undying promise to look after all of you, and to keep things to a down-low when he's here."

"I don't know, Tazir." there was a pause before his mutter said something that made him run past the window then up to his room, where he'd simply stay in for the next few hours, worrying half to death about what may or may not happen in the impeding few weeks and months to come. "Let me think on it, okay? I'll give you my answer on his coming over in the next few days."