Chapter Eight

Thicker than Glass

"Any luck down by the coaster?" Nack called out across the glass walkway; the yellow bear shook his head. Nack groaned, rubbing his temples in irritation. They had broken up to search the entirety of Twinkle Park and yet hadn't had a speck of luck in finding Stella. He supposed it was a given—how was one expected to find a single child in a massive amusement park? It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And just like that needle, Nack had a distinctly bad feeling that this was going to come back to stab him in the ass.

Bean emerged from behind the carnival games to rush up to them, crawling expertly up Bark's back to rest on his shoulder. Nack shot him a look and the bird just shrugged—he hadn't been able to find the girl either. Though admittedly the weasel often doubted Bean's ability to pay attention long enough to find anything, much less a whole individual. Hell, he wasn't even paying attention to Nack anymore—he was pawing through the bag of stuffed animals that Bark had slung over his back.

Nack groaned and leaned against the window of the glass walkway to look at the city beyond—he hated to humor the idea, but it had to be considered that Stella might have left the park without them. And if that were the case then they'd never find her. Station Square was simply too big for that. Twinkle Park was already enough of a challenge, but the whole city? At this point it would be more realistic to hope SHE came back to THEM.

He grit his teeth. Fat chance, after what he had said to the kid…

Regret was not his thing. He simply didn't utilize it. Feeling bad was for little girls and ninnies, and mercenaries who were destined to fail at their job. Simply put, a man couldn't do that kind of job while feeling regret. It involved too much harm pushed onto people who weren't always deserving of it. A mercenary had to have an iron will that shut out all regret, or at the very least a nasty attitude that put themselves before the needs of others. Nack generally prided himself on having an unpleasant yet productive combination of both—a combination that didn't allow him to feel bad just because some little brat had burst into tears.

Yet here he was, feeling bad about it.

It was definitely an alien feeling and Nack didn't like it in the slightest. A nasty tightening in the stomach, almost like he was sick, tugged at his insides and questions he didn't want to answer bombarded his mind. He didn't even LIKE kids, for god's sake. They were irritating little attention hogs who could never take care of themselves. Always needed someone to hold their hand to do anything, needed to be told everything, and couldn't defend themselves worth a damn. Kids were worthless as far as he was concerned.

…But it had been fun. The kid was snappy and she knew how to drive a hard bargain. She was independent enough to run away for what she thought was the right thing to do—something both he and his sister had done as children. And even though he hated the fact that kids couldn't do anything on their own, he had to admit that playing with the airsoft guns and catching the carnival scam had been…fun.

He groaned.

She whines like a child. She's demanding and ignorant and gets scared by the littlest interactions with the real world. Sheltered, annoying little brats…is that something we really need? She probably doesn't even understand the damn worth of what she's paying us—kids don't get currency. She's probably lying to us. Just let it go, Nack…just let it go.

"Goddammit." He groaned. "Did you two check the game corner yet?"

"Yeah, that was on m—" Bean began, but was interrupted by the harsh sound of glass shattering everywhere—Nack flinched as a bullet whizzed past his head, smashing the window in front of him into nothing. The shards fell down below, a good hundred feet below the glass walkway that the Hooligans were standing in. Shrill screams rang out as the parkgoers began to panic and try to push their way off the walkway. Nack stood solid, staring at the open panel in front of him, trying to form coherent thoughts.

That bullet hadn't been meant to hit—it had been to get his attention.

Hesitantly, he turned to face the shooter.

Jeb towered over the remaining denizens on the glass walkway, firmly gripping a fifty caliber wheel pistol—a thick but pliable metal rod extending from under his dress shirt was attached to his hoof to wrap around the trigger and held the gun in place. His jacket was thrown to the side in favor of exposing his massive size to the world; not a sight that wouldn't send chills through any mercenary that knew the warthog. Jeb used his weight well, as could it be a deadly weapon. Just as deadly as the polished tusks shining in the cheap lights of the midway.

Nack took a hesitant step to the side, reaching for his own gun. Within seconds he was face to face with the massive barrel of Jeb's gun. His hand drew away from his weapon, raising up beside his head with one finger casually pointing behind the massive pig. Jeb raised an eyebrow questioningly; it was not enough time to think about how to prevent the massive gloved fist from slamming into the side of his face. Jeb toppled to the side as his weasel target scurried to Bark's side. A triumphant grin spread over his face as he pulled his gun out.

"Can't get the drop on me, Jeb! Thought you would've figured that out by now, but I guess not." Nack sneered; Bark rolled his eyes. "The hell is this about? I thought we made a deal! That, y'know, didn't involve killing me!"

Jeb groaned loudly as he hefted himself to his feet, a smirk spreading across his face as he flicked out the other gun holder under his shirt sleeve. The gun at his side clicked into place with no trouble at all. "Well, I'll say that we did done make that deal, boy. But I'm awfully sorry to tell you that you done got outbid."

One hoof gestured at the ceiling high above them—on one metal support beam sat Svetlana Vasin grinning maniacally down at them with her painted lips. Her free hand held her signature white gun up by her shoulder, with Stella wrapped in the other. The small fox kicked violently against the hold of the older woman uselessly, unable to yell with Svetlana's hand planted firmly over her mouth. Nack swore under his breath, realizing his mistake in assuming that he had to FIND the wolverine. Of course Svetlana had been following them the whole time.

But why take Stella…? Svetlana knew it wasn't in Nack's nature to care about anything, even if the care was minimal. Hostages weren't her thing in situations involving him, because she knew well that he wasn't particularly prone to making sacrifices for others. And she couldn't possibly know what he was thinking—Svetlana Vasin may have been crafty but she was no mind reader.

The weasel narrowed his eyes. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. Whoever had hired Svetlana hadn't stopped their attack at the Frost parents—they wanted something with the Frost child as well. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what that might be but at the moment, he didn't really care. All he knew was that this situation had just become too dangerous for comfort and it needed to end.

But how…?

There were three of them, true, but that had only been an advantage when Nack thought his solitary opposition was going to be Svetlana. He wouldn't even trust a group of ten to go up against Jeb safely, much less his efforts combined with the crafty wolverine woman. The boar had a reputation of being a murder machine, especially when he was angry…or when he had enough incentive.

All three of the Hooligans were snapped out of their reverie by a loud shriek and a string of angry Russian. Stella had bitten down hard on the wolverine's hand, arm shooting out to elbow the woman in the stomach. Svetlana reached back to grab the child, but it was too late. Stella was already sliding down the side of the metal support to hang high above the battle. Nack could see her limbs shaking, and the fear in her eyes—but there was certain amount of determination in those eyes as well.

"N-Nack!" She shouted. "T…the glass! Look at the GLASS!"

He exchanged confused looks with Bark; what the hell did the kid mean? Bean poked his head over the polar bear's shoulder, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he stared down at Jeb's feet—they followed the bird's crazed gaze.

Then their eyes widened.

Tiny cracks were spidering out from under the hoof of the massive boar, the glass underneath struggling to keep the massive beast afloat. The thick and clear material had been specifically for walking upon by all folks despite their shape, size, and species…but Jeb was far too massive. The glass couldn't take the stress for much longer and the slightest push would be over the edge. Nack glanced at the cuts weaving up and down the hallway…it was risky, but it was pretty much the only thing they could do. It was either that or get gutted by Jeb.

The choice between possibly dying and definitely dying was a considerably easy one.

"Bean, throw a bomb at his feet and blow out the glass pane. We're going to run for THAT EXIT THERE, do NOT go anywhere else, it HAS to be that one!" Nack hissed under his breath as he pointed at the closed door behind them. Bark gestured at the girl hanging on the support beam above them—Nack shook his head. "She's coming too. STELLA!"

"W-WHAT?"

"JUMP WHEN I SAY!"

"WHAT?!"

"Go!" Nack pushed the bear towards the door; Bean snapped his fingers and launched an explosive at the feet of the pig. It rolled innocently in front of his hoofs; looking down at the cracks running away from his feet, Jeb paled visibly and moved forward to follow after them. It was no use—Bean was throwing bombs at every pane up to the door.

"Bark! Get Bean on your shoulder, and hold out your arms! Do NOT miss, we need that fifty million and we ain't gettin' any of it if she drops down and dies!" Nack ordered; the bear nodded and held up his arms as he ran in front of the weasel. The purple mercenary pointed up at the girl and she shook her head wildly. "STELLA! If you jump, you will NOT die! If you DON'T, you will die without a goddamn doubt! So just JUMP already!"

Tears gathered in her icy blue eyes as she glanced back to the rage-filled eyes of the wolverine crawling down the beam. With a fearful nod she released her grip on the metal beam, falling away from the sounds of loud cursing in a thick Russian accent. The girl covered her mouth—even in this time of terror, the infantile fear of not seeming brave enough tugged at her. Or maybe it was just a strange urge to impress the odd mercenaries she hired. The girl wasn't sure anymore.

Right now, as she landed in the thick and furry arms of the polar bear, she didn't really care. Bark tucked the girl against his chest as he smashed through the wooden door blocking the walkway from the rest of Twinkle Park. A riot of explosions sounded loudly behind them, accompanied by an offsetting chorus of maniacal laughter from the green bird watching the chaos from his shoulder. Nack trailed behind them all to send a few bullets into the fray, just to be sure.

The group collapsed against the ground of the midway, ignoring the screams and stares of the other patrons. Stella rolled off the polar bear to pant loudly; never before had the sheltered child felt such fear and such…exhilaration. A wild grin passed across the child's face—they had just gone against the chance of death and they had WON. They had won against death with their own firepower, strength, and cold hard wiles. Her fists balled up, still shaking slightly, as she jumped to her feet.

"You DID it! You absolutely freakin' DID IT! Oh my GOSH, I thought she was gonna get me, and I thought that big guy was gonna gut you guys, but they DIDN'T!" She squealed. Nack pushed his hat over his face with a groan, failing to conceal the small grin pinching at his lips. "Bark got him right in the side of the face like BAM! And Bean got every dang pane, he wasn't catchin' up to you, that's for sure! And ya…you got what I was sayin' about the glass…and you…told Bark to catch me…even after what you said earlier…?"

"Guess I did." Nack muttered, still laying on his back. Bark pushed him upwards and pulled his hat away from his face. The weasel scowled and batted the bear's hands away from him—Bark simply shrugged and returned to tending the excitement of the green bird aside him. The fox girl giggled softly as she watched the bird bounding around the midway with fearful eyes from the crowd on his back, and Bark half-heartedly chasing him past the carnival stands. Then she turned to Nack.

"You're a hard guy to get, you know."

"I hate kids."

"Yeah, I know." Stella said, sitting down next to the weasel. "But whatever. Y'know, I really hate mint. But y'know what I like? Mint chocolate chip cookies. That's weird, right? Auntie Nessie always said it was super weird. But when the chocolate cookies pair up with the mint bits, it makes the mint seem really good somehow. I think so anyways. Do you think if an annoying kid pairs up with the Hooligans, that the kid won't be so annoying? That the kid might actually be good?"

"…Kid." Nack chuckled as he stood to his feet, helping the little girl to her feet and shoving his gun back into its hostler. "There ain't nothin' good about the Hooligans."

Stella just laughed.