Chapter Thirteen
Snow On the Roof
Sunday came so quickly; the weekends always seemed to fly by.
They were stuck waiting in their room for the ceremony to start. Nack lay on the soft bed with his arms behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling as his two partners explored the room around them. Or, more accurately, ransacked it. What they had been given to stay in was undeniably extravagant: a large, two bed room decorated with antique lamps, beds encrusted with a mantle of polished gems, and classic paintings easily worth millions. The weasel liked his riches but he couldn't imagine how someone could live this way. It was like being housed inside a particularly gaudy kaleidoscope, with all the bright light induced headaches that came along with it.
He tipped his head to the side to watch Bean. The bird was making rounds about the room, meticulously snatching anything that he could shove into the burlap sack that typically was kept in the bottom compartment of the Marvelous Queen. Several of the paintings had already disappeared into there; meanwhile, some of the smaller things had been tucked either into his ascot or under Bark's red hat. The bear didn't seem to care about the commotion the bird was making; he just lay against the wall with his hat seated against a leg for easy access.
"Do you think if I pick at it, I could get these rubies out? I mean, a well placed cherry bomb could probably pop them out too…" Bean speculated, perching on one of the bedposts. One gloved finger tapped against the shimmering gem embedded in the headboard. Nack rolled his eyes and waved the bird's hand away from above his head. "Boy, ain't you been talkative today! What's your problem? We might actually be able to break even to our original payment fee if we get enough stuff out of this house."
"Ah, shut it. We ain't gonna find anything if you keep flappin' yer damn mouth instead of looking, so get back to work." Nack snapped. It didn't seem to faze Bean much. The bird simply shrugged and climbed off the post, taking to rifling through the drawers of the bed stand. The weasel knew, however, that the same flippant response wasn't coming out of the bear sitting aside the window—he could feel the burning, red eyed gaze narrowing in on him. Bark was nothing if not a man with an intimidating presence.
"…What? What d'ya want?" Nack grunted; Bean paused and looked up to the two Hooligans. The weasel leader had pushed his hat over his face to avoid the inspecting glare of the bruiser. "We got what we're here for, we completed the damn mission. So get off my back."
"If we completed the damn mission then why're we still here?" Bean supplied for the silent bear. Nack shot a scathing glare at the duck—as usual, it had no effect on the duck, who bounded over to his partner with a goofy smile on his face. Within seconds he was upon the bear's shoulder, resting comfortably against the head of the yellow furred brawler.
"Because we were invited to the damn ceremony."
"What does that matter to us?"
Nack grimaced. The dynamo's abilities to read Bark's intentions were uncanny and it more often than not tended to bite the weasel in the ass. And already this was going in a direction he didn't like. "Because we were invited. It's a fancy party with free fancy food, who the hell is gonna turn that down?"
"You're suspicious."
"Suspicious a' what?! I ain't got nothing to be suspicious of because I gotta give a damn to be suspicious! And I don't give a damn so I guess I ain't suspicious, AM I." Nack snapped, sitting up to level his own bitter glare at the polar bear and his companion. Neither seemed particular phased, nor convinced. "Yeah, sure. The situation here don't seem quite right. So the whole vibe in this place is off. So I don't think that all of th' pieces match up! So what? We got paid. It ain't my problem no more."
"But we're still here." Bean supplied.
"Ya already made that clear, jackass!" Nack shouted, practically jumping off the cushioned bed in frustration. "Yes! We are still here! We're gonna attend the ceremony! Maybe I'm just a LITTLE bit curious about this bullshit. We did almost get killed to get where we are now, after all, so I think I can reserve that damn right! Especially if somethin' in this stupid place is gonna pop out and kill the kid I spent my time on protecting!"
The room went silent. Bean peeked over Bark's shoulder, hands digging into the green scarf around the bear's neck, as the yellow polar bark just focused intently on the huffing weasel. Nack's hands had clenched into fists, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face as he tried to collect himself. His purple fur seemed to puff itself out in frustration as his mouth curved upwards into a snarl, revealing the uncomely length of his massive and intimidating fang. For some time they all simply stood there, almost as if in a shoot-off.
"Na, can lie not. Self."
Nack raised a brow, despite still being clouded in frustration; Bark was talking. Bark NEVER talked. Even Bean was looking at the bear with some amount of surprise, and there was very little that the bruiser did that surprised the duck. Nack himself had never been unaware that the bear could talk—he would've considered himself a supremely (more) unfit leader if he hadn't—but they all knew it wasn't something the bear never did. It had always been simpler to just let Bean work as his interpreter as opposed to showcasing the polar bear's somewhat limited grasp on speaking his second language.
"Nack lie lot. To self too. Only lie…" Bark paused as stress crossed his face.
"Can only lie so much." Bean patted the bear on the side of the head, supplying what the yellow beast needed. Bark nodded.
"Ya. Can only lie so much. Give up is need."
"Well, you heard it from the bear's mouth, Snaggletooth." Bean chuckled, resting his elbow on the top of Bark's head. Nack gaped as the bear had wrapped his scarf back over his mouth again, eyes closing as he leaned back against the white painted wall in satisfaction. "You can only lie to yourself so much. We can't do much of anything if you ain't gonna be honest with us. It kinda is easier if we reserve the lying for the public and stay clear between each other."
"What, you wanna call us a happy family and sing campfire songs next?" Nack grumbled irately. But his aggressive resolve had died down; body unlocking from its tense posture and flopping back into the cushions of the bed below. "Alright, I'll be honest with ya, then. I don't like this place. Somethin' seems a little bit off about it and I can't place what the hell it is. Auntie and Uncle seem like nice, upstanding people so that puts an even more annoying wrench in it."
"Is it the fact that all the maids seem scared? Like, always?"
"Huh?" Nack stared over at Bean; the dynamo had a mischievous grin spread across his beak. "The…maids?"
"They seem skittish."
"They're…lemmings. Lemmings tend to be skittish."
"How 'bout the dozens of guards who look they came straight outta the mob?" Bean's grin didn't waver at Nack's comeback—if anything, it only grew. "Big, massive snow wolves who look ready to bite anyone who comes near. THAT'S pretty suspicious, if you ask me."
Nack was about to reply, but a quiet knock came from the door of the guest room. He stared at it, slowly moving forward to open the door—keeping the chain latch firmly bolted. Through the small crack of open doorway, he saw one of the young lemming maids. What looked like one of the few suitcases from the Marvelous Queen was clutched tightly in her hands. Her beady eyes darted back and forth nervously—common behavior for a lemming, but a bit over the top. As if some sort of predator was waiting to pounce down on her. She squeaked loudly when she realized that she was being watched from the open door.
"H-hello, sir, I…I am E-Emma Lemming! I, ah, I'm h-here to deliver your l-luggage, sir!" She stuttered, pushing out the suitcase in an almost defensive gesture—unfortunately, it seemed too heavy for her to actually hold it up as a shield. Nack studied it carefully; it had looked like one of the suitcases from the Marvelous Queen but upon further inspection he realized it wasn't. It was too big, too bulky, and far too new looking. The Hooligans didn't keep much with them, but most of what they did was beaten down and used.
"'S not ours." Nack grunted, moving to close the guest room door. Quickly the lemming maid shoved her foot in between the frame and the closing entryway. A clear expression of pain passed over her already trembling features—the weasel drew the door away from her throbbing foot in shock. "The hell did you do that for?!"
"I…I am q-quite sure that this i-is your l-luggage, sir." She pushed the suitcase forward against the crack of the door; it seemed to take all of her strength to shove the sizable case against the door. The more Nack looked at it, the more he knew it wasn't theirs, but it didn't seem like the girl was going to give up—with a quick motion he undid the chain latch and let her push the suitcase into their room. Bean and Bark stared at it in confusion. They didn't seem to recognize it either.
Nack shrugged in vain—he supposed if there was going to be a luggage mix up, at the very least he could do was profit off it. Anyone else staying in this manor would undoubtedly be a very wealthy individual, and whatever they chose to lug around in a suitcase too heavy to carry would likely be worth a fortune. Just another thing to add to their profit…he glance over to the lemming maid from the side of his eyes.
"Miss Emma, was it?" He leaned against the side of the door and the maid balked immediately, fear crossing into her eyes. "Hey, calm down. I just wanted to ask you a question or two about this manor. That's okay, ain't it?"
"I-I suppose." She said uneasily.
"We were wondering what was with the guards around here. It seems a little bit excessive for a mansion in the middle of nowhere." Nack asked casually, leaning towards the brunette lemming. She shuffled back quickly, ears flattened and cheeks red. It was clear as day that most of the staff in the manor didn't have much outside world exposure—anything seemed to make the maids uncomfortable. Still, steadying herself against the banister of the hallway, the lemming straightened herself up to look them in the eye (albeit with much effort).
"T-that's a, uhm, that's a g-good question. Th…w-we don't really know? T-they were hired by M-Mr. Fairfield after the death of t-the mister and missus." Emma explained. Her tone was uncertain, almost fearful; Nack was starting to get the idea that living under the Frost Manor was somewhat of an uncomfortable ordeal. "T-the staff objected, b-but Mr. Fairfield said it was n-necessary to keep the Frost Manor and the Frost h-heiress safe…"
"So Uncle hired the goons, huh? To keep Stella safe?"
"I…it's been the utmost p-priority of the F-Frost Manor to keep the Frost h-heiress clo…s-safe." Emma quickly averted her eyes, unable to meet the narrowed glare now fixed on her. "T-there are those who would c-come after the young m-miss if she wasn't protected. S-she's the majority heir, a-a-after all…s-so Mr. Fairfield decided to hire them."
"And that's all you know?"
"Y-yes?"
"Really now?"
"Y…yes…?" Emma said nervously; her eyes immediately darted to the revolver hanging from Nack's hip and the weasel grinned, passing his hand across it. Bean let out a hissing laugh of amusement as the lemming maid cowered away from the bounty hunters. "A-alright, alright! W-what I do to keep a job…l-look, it's just a rumor. But a lot of the maids th-think that M-Mr. Fairfield hired the new s-security from the muh…from the m-mafia. Or a-at the very least from somewhere kinda, u-uhm…shady."
"Kiddo, I know my shady, and those guys fit the profile perfectly." Nack mused, fishing out a cigarette to light up. She cringed at the sight, fingers covering her noses. "I knew there was somethin' shifty here. And it looks like it all goes back to Erik Fairfield. Probably has something to do with the fortune, I'd imagine…so why the hell did he let US into the picture…?"
Nack paused, taking a long drag off his cigarette as he slowly turned around to approach the suitcase; the lemming maid behind him took the chance to scamper off desperately. The weasel held out a hand, gesturing Bean and Bark to move to separate corners of the room—it left the mysterious suitcase surrounded. Slowly, he withdrew his revolver, and reached out to unlatch one of the locks.
Without warning, a set of claws ripped through the hard leather. All three of them jumped away from the suitcase, with a lit bomb sparking to life in Bean's hand and the Bark's massive fists held out in front of himself. Silence filled the room for a second, the only noises being the fizzling of Bean's bomb and the loud click from the hammer of Nack's revolver. The arm holding up his gun was supported under the elbow by his free arm, but right at the moment, his fingers itched for the other revolver hanging from his belt. It was too tense for his liking to only have one gun in his hands.
His anxiety was proven right when, seconds later, the claw ripped at the leather again and split the suitcase in two to reveal a white furred female wolf. Her eyes, like the downstairs guards, were a vibrant gold. They stood out even more under the swathes of black fabric wrapped around her muzzle and forehead, the makeshift mask traveling downwards into the v-neck of a black bodysuit. Sharp, intimidating claws protruded from her paws and the white muzzle curled into a snarl.
The trio weren't even given a second to respond; the wolf immediately jumped at Bark, tearing her claws across the front of his face. With a swift upward lunge of the fist, she slammed into the ceiling roughly only to fall back to the ground on all fours. She spun on the heel of her foot to launch herself at Bean; the action was promptly met with another fist in the side as Bark rammed the woman against the wall. She slinked out of the grip right before it could tighten, throwing a foot out underneath his legs and knocking the bear to the ground with an unceremonious crash.
Quickly the wolf dodged out of the way of the mass only to be met with a barrage of bullets. Nack's hand finally met with the revolver at his side, both guns clutched in his hand with his finger rapidly pulling the trigger. The only response he got was the woman kicking the footboard of the bed out of place and into the path of the bullets. Grimacing, the weasel ducked behind the doorway to reload his guns.
While he did this, the she-wolf found herself barraged with what almost seemed like a wall of explosives. Jumping atop them and flipping from bomb to bomb, they dynamo grinned when he saw a flash of fear in the woman's eyes—she was only barely managing defense against the bombs. As they hit the bed, they let out a fierce explosion that blew all of them through into the next room. Nack cursed under his breath and slipped back into the guest room to rest against the remains of the destroyed wall with a reloaded revolver in each hand.
Dust and silence followed the explosion; peeking around the splintered wood, Nack couldn't see a trace of the assassin. And that was all she could possibly be: an assassin. He didn't know why and he didn't care. All he could connect was that a wolf, looking much like the security of Frost Manor, was trying to kill him. Whatever the hell was going on didn't matter. Nack had never been too fond of anyone trying to kill him, especially when they clearly were working for the people that he had ended up doing a favor.
Some people just don't know how to repay shit, he thought before slowly easing himself into the room. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bark groaning as he lifted himself up, with Bean unconscious by his side. The bird had never been very good with hard hits—he could definitely dish them out but he could never take a genuine frontal attack to his person. But Nack had to admit that it did put them in a nasty spot without their clear advantage that was the dynamo.
His finger hovered over the trigger of his gun as he carefully side-stepped into the room with his back against the wall. The last thing he wanted was to show his blind spot to the she-wolf that had to be here—somewhere—in the room. The weasel caught the polar bear's red eyes; one gun waved in the direction of the broken wall. Bark got the message and, throwing the unconscious Bean onto his back, slowly moved to block the open escape.
Silence. Nothing.
And then Nack realized that he was feeling a breeze against his face.
With a jerk, the weasel snapped his attention onto the window on the far side of the room—the glass barely hanging onto the frame, with the majority of the shards lying against the rich red carpet. Within moments he was over at the mess, jerking open the broken frame to push himself out over the three stories of the Manor below him. One foot secured him on the window, with two fingers looped around the upper frame to keep in him in place while he scanned the surrounding roof.
He was interrupted by a slash that came from above his muzzle.
The weasel was thrown across the open roof, slamming against the shingles as he rolled down the slight slope to rest in the drainage gutter. The water was ice cold, almost half frozen, and caked in snow; the sharp sensation had the weasel clambering out in seconds. He was greeted by a foot slamming down on his hand, twisted back and forth until he finally released his grip on the revolver he hadn't lost when the assassin had hit. The wolf quickly kicked the weapon across the shingles; it slid down into the pipe far out of his reach.
"You think you're hot stuff, huh, you little shit?" Nack grinned—it was a loose, unconfident gesture. It wasn't easy to talk too big while lying in front of an enemy with no weapon, especially with the blood caking his white muzzle and running down his exposed tooth. "You don't know shit. You're just a little newcomer."
"Brazen words for a man pushed against the side of a roof with not a single weapon in hand." The assassin finally spoke, her tone harsh and snappy. Nack chuckled, coughing slightly. He was dismayed to see flecks of blood falling out below him as he stared at the shingles. Wobbly arms barely managed to lift his body; with a swift kick from the wolf, he slammed back against the roof. Her foot remained firmly against his chest. "You call me newcomer and yet you bleed underneath my feet."
"That what you're into, honey?" Nack managed to grin smarmily at the wolf. Her eyes narrowed threateningly. "Hey, I don't judge…I just have to say. You can't call yourself a newcomer if you're so underprepared."
"Underprepared? What….?!" Her eyes widened as the weasel smacked an arm against her leg, tripping the wolf up as he rolled away from her grip. With an enraged roar she fell to all fours to rush him…only to be greeted with the barrel of a small gun. Her eyes widened as the cold steel pressed against her forehead. "W-what…how?!"
"I'm a sniper, kiddo. You think I'd just have two guns?" Nack chuckled. "One or two revolvers on my person wouldn't keep me safe. I'm a busy man who gets into busy business! And right now, my business is why the hell you're trying to kill me."
The wolf stared at him; fear was in her eyes but she stayed silent.
"You work for the Frost Manor, don't you? You're with those security guards from downstairs. I saved your precious heiress, so I'm kinda on the confused side of why the hell you'd want me dead." Nack elaborated. Still she said nothing. "Look, this is kinda important and I kinda have places to be. A doctor, for one."
"I…cannot. It is the pledge of the Auroran Wolves to not turn on an employee." She dipped her head, as if awaiting her death. Nack just groaned in annoyance, flipping the small gun back into his belt. She shot him a questioning look.
"The Auroran Wolves, I know your kind. You're a member of one of the biggest mafias that the Arctic of Mobius has to offer." He snorted. "Real focused on tradition, right? Look, I'm really impressed by your dedication—I sure as hell wouldn't have it—but this really isn't the time for it. We can keep fighting and one of us will get killed, or we can knock it off and you can give me the information I need."
"….I am sorry. Nothing personal. You just MUST be deceased before the ceremony." She bowed her head and then lunged forward at the weasel. Immediately Nack dropped to his knees, letting her fly over his body as he rolled over the revolver that had been lodged in the gutter of the roof. Nimble fingers reloaded the familiar metal, and swiftly he spun around to face the assassin before she could dig her claws into his neck.
Blood streamed past her fangs as bullets riddled her chest, body slammed down against the roof as she twitched violently. Nack cringed at the sight—it was never pleasant when they didn't die immediately. Especially when they couldn't possibly survive. With a sigh, he slipped one last bullet into the chamber of the gun and held it against her head.
"Sorry, kid."
The shot rang out across the woods, seeming louder than the barrage he had sent into her chest. Nack pocketed the revolver back at his side as he limped back through the window to collapse on the red carpet below. He was quickly pulled up to rest in Bark's arm, right next to Bean's unconscious body—a small grin passed across the weasel's face.
"What're you, my mom?" He coughed out. The bear just rolled his eyes as the weasel settled into the soft fur. Before sleep could take him like it had the dynamo, Nack's eyes snapped open suddenly. "What time is it?"
Bark looked around, finding a clock and jerking his head at it. Nack struggled to lift himself up to look at it. When he saw it, though, his eyes narrowed immediately. "We're late for the ceremony."
Bark sent him an incredulous looking, clearly expressing a concern of them going to the event in such a state. Nack shook his head vigorously, kicking his foot across the span of the bear's chest to kick at Bean. The bird murmured in irritation, shifting back and forth as he tried to return to the conscious world. Nack rolled his eyes; he didn't time for this, or to explain it all to Bark.
"Just trust me on this one. We HAVE to get to that ceremony as soon as possible."
