Chapter Three: Meetings and Impressions

Critic stared into his coffee, hands curled around the porcelain mug in an attempt to warm himself. This was the second time this month the heat in his apartment had been shut off. While it was true that he didn't feel the cold as badly as he used to before he became a Disciple, the fact remained that he still preferred his living quarters not resemble an igloo. There was also the fact that his job didn't exactly pay...at all. Death really didn't have a concept of money, and the one time Critic had broached the idea of monetary compensation to his Boss, he had been laughed out of Death's Office. So in order to keep himself from starving(not something he fancied, since his immortality would keep him alive even if he was a walking skeleton), he began to take on odd jobs here and there-eliminating a rogue pack of pixies, acting as a guide for tourists dumb and/or suicidal enough to want to visit the seedier parts of Awesomia, and once in a while helping his cousin Dominic at his bar, the Pixel Palace.

That was where he was now, waiting for Spoony to arrive with Miss Layla Green. Dominic, an immigrant from Ireland, had declared his bar a neutral zone, a rarity in the city. Fans in the ceiling dispelled any magical auras, and Dominic was not shy about throwing anybody who violated Neutrality out on their ass. Of course, being half-banshee also helped to discourage any ruffians. "You doin' OK, Douglas?"

Critic sighed. "You know you're the only one that calls me that?"

Dominic nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm a bit worried about ya. You know you're not going to find G..."

"Don't say his name!" Critic yelled. Dominic blinked at him, and Critic sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Good God, Dominic, what the fuck is in this?"

"Whiskey. Look, Douglas, you're not going to find your twin unless he wants to be found. Same with Robert. In your twin's case, it's because you know what a twisted fuck he was before all this. With Robert..." Dominic let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, and Critic felt tears sting his eyes.

"I never should have taken his side. He...knew just how to manipulate me into going against Rob, even though I knew it was wrong. And because of him, I may never have a family again."

"What am I, chopped liver?"

Critic glared at him. "I meant..."

Dominic smiled and patted his shoulder. "Relax, Douglas, I know what you meant. I keep hoping you and Rob will reunite someday. I know there probably won't be a tearful reconciliation, but..." Dominic shrugged, and Critic took a gulp of the whiskey-laced coffee.

"Yeah."

There was a ringing sound as the front door opened, causing the bell that Dominic had placed above it to move. Critic turned around on the bar stool, watching as two people walked in. He recognized Spoony, and guessed that the rather buxom red head with him was probably Miss Green. She had on a long sleeved blue shirt and a red skirt that stopped just above her knees.

Dominic spoke up, all business. "Welcome to the Pixel Palace, gentlemen and Milady. Is there anything I can get for the three of ya?"

Spoony looked surprised for a brief second, then shook his head. "No thanks, we're here to talk to Critic."

Miss Green spoke up, her voice surprisingly smoky. "I'll take a whiskey, neat." Dominic nodded, and poured her drink. She raised the glass at him in salute. "Slainte."

"Same to you, Milady. Well, I've got to go polish the tables." He moved off. Layla took a large gulp of whiskey, then faced Critic.

"You don't look like much, I gotta say. Scrawny fucker, aren't you?"

Critic felt his hackles rise. "Well, pardon the fuck out of me for not looking like a goddam body builder. Are you forgetting that this 'scrawny fucker' can take your life away like that?" He snapped his fingers, and Layla growled at him.

"Oh, I'm so scared. Goddam fucking bureaucrats, Disciples. Oh no, someone brought back a loved one! We have to kill them!"

Critic laughed derisively. "You ignorant little shit. Have you ever seen a Ghoul? They're NOT the same people they were when they were alive. Necromancy and...whatever the fuck it is you do are complete opposites. Come to think of it, what can you do? Spoony told me you're a Healer, but I think that's a bunch of bullshit."

Insano took over. "Spoony wouldn't lie!"

Critic rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying he would, but maybe he misheard. Mages can have healing powers without being Healers. I'm just saying, prove it."

Spoony sighed. "How? I don't have any weapons on me, and this is a Neutral Zone, so I can't use magic."

Layla looked over at Dominic. "Could you come over here a moment, please?"

"Certainly, Milady. What can I do for you?"

Layla smiled at him. "Are you a banshee?"

"Half, Milady. Which means my screech isn't instantly fatal. Why?"

Layla sighed. "Could you screech at me? I need to prove to numbnuts here(she pointed to Critic, earning a "HEY!" in response) that I am what I say I am. Banshee screeches are generally immune to most healing spells, right?"

Dominic looked worried. "Yes, but, Milady...I..."

"Please?"

Dominic sighed in resignation. "Fine. You lot, fingers in your ears." Critic and Spoony plugged up their ears, and Dominic took a deep breath, then opened his mouth wide. The screech began, a low sound at first, then building and building until it was a high, wailing sound that seemed to double and treble with echoes. Layla was convulsing, blood pouring from her eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. Dominic stopped, and she toppled off her stool, landing in a heap on the floor.

Critic knelt down and turned her over. "See, what did I..." his eyes widened in disbelief. "Tell you." The blood had vanished. Layla's body shuddered, and she took a long, deep breath before opening her eyes.

"Now do you believe me?"

Critic grinned at her. "I suppose I'll have to, Miss Green. My apologies." He helped her to her feet, and she grinned back.

"You know, you're not as big an asshole as I thought."

Critic chuckled. "Yes I am. But I said I'd watch out for you, and that's what I intend to do. So long as you don't bring anyone back from the dead."

A small man scurried down a dark alley, wringing his hands in glee. "Oh, he's going to be so proud of me! So proud!" He stopped in front of a warped, rotten door that had once been painted a bright blue but was now black with dried blood. There was a slit in the door just above the man's eye level. He shivered all over, then knocked: two light taps followed by one quick rap.

There was a creaking sound, and the slit opened, revealing a pair of murky red eyes. The eyes looked down, and the man waved. The slot closed, and after a few seconds the door opened, the rusty metal hinges wailing like banshees. A gorilla of a man filled the empty frame. "Whaddaya want, Mickey?"

Mickey gulped. "I wanna see him. I got news he's gonna want to hear." He took a flask from his hip pocket and swallowed a dose of liquid courage. "And I ain't leaving until I get to see him."

The gorilla gave him the once-over, then stepped aside. "OK. But this had better be legit. He wasn't too happy the last time, remember?" Mickey's teeth chattered in fear.

"Honest, Tom, this is on the level. Why would I lie?"

"That's a very good question."

Mickey jumped twenty feet in the air as Gerrick 'Guy' Walker materialized in front of him, a wicked smile on his face. "B..Boss...umm...I..."

Guy continued to smile, speaking in a pleasant, conversational tone. "After all, it's not as though you lied to me many, many times before. You gnomes, always so hard to get a handle on. But you remember what happened last time. Of course you do. So, if you're here to tell me another lie, don't bother." He raised his left hand, palm up, and dark lightning crackled in his fingertips. "I'll make it permanent this time."

Mickey's words came out in a horrified rush. "I saw your twin coming outta the Palace with this really hot chick and that weird alchemist dude and I think she might be the Healer and Critic's keeping an eye on her for some reason and please don't kill me I'm telling you the truth I swear!"

Guy lowered his hand, grinning in a way that reminded Mickey of a shark. "Dear Doug is back in town, and he didn't even try to find his own twin for a touching and tearful reunion? Dear me. Tom, see to it that Mickey is escorted out of here safely. I've got some business to attend to."

Guy strolled away down the corridor, brushing by Mickey, who shivered as the black aura passed over him. He stopped in front of a large black door with runes carved into it. Guy pressed his fingers into the topmost rune, then traced a pattern in the door, mumbling under his breath. The door opened, and Guy stepped into the tiny cell behind the door, smiling benignly at its occupant.

Rob was sitting on the cold metal floor. His hands and feet were shackled to the wall with silver cuffs and chains, and around his neck was a silver collar carved with runic symbols. He looked thin and underfed, but his eyes burned with rage as he looked up at his brother. "Guy, I swear by my Soul if you don't let me out...!"

Guy giggled madly. "You'll what, turn me into a toad? You couldn't even pull a rabbit out of a hat. I don't know why you keep trying to get free. I'm the only one that can take the cuffs off." He knelt in front of Rob, pressing hard on one of the runes on his collar. Rob screamed in pain. "All those times you said you were better than me, all those times you tried to keep me from finding out the truth...and now you're at my mercy. How humiliating for you."

"What do you want, Gerrick?"

Guy looked furious, and wrapped his hands around Rob's throat,pressing down on every rune at once. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! NEVER CALL ME THAT!"

Rob convulsed in pain, screaming at the magical onslaught. Guy removed his hands, and smiled. "See what you made me do? Silly me, losing my temper. I came to tell you that our dear brother is back in town! Isn't that just delightful?"

Rob blinked. "Doug's back? Where? When?"

"Mickey spotted him coming out of cousin Dominic's bar with some other people, one of whom may just be the Healer I've been looking for. I think I should pay a visit to Dominic."

Rob chuckled. "And if you did visit, would you keep to Neutrality? You may be powerful, but a banshee screech could still give you a massive headache. Even if Dominic isn't a full blood banshee."

"Very true. I suppose I'll talk to him some other time. Goodnight for now, dear Robert. I do hope you have pleasant dreams." He left, sealing the door behind him, and Rob slumped, ignoring the aches and pains.

He had been his brother's prisoner for six months now, and it looked like he was never going to get out. Rob had sorely underestimated just how strong Guy had become, and their Duel had left him half-dead. He had passed out, and when he came to, he was in this cell, shackled to the wall with silver-the one thing that could suppress a Mage's magic. He shivered, dreading what would happen if Doug got into a Duel with him. His brother had never been too good at combat magic, preferring to use his skills in other ways. Guy would kill him in seconds.

Rob curled up as best as he could and went to sleep, crying quietly.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but it's home," Critic said, pushing open the front door to his apartment. Layla stepped in, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's freezing!"

"Oh. Right. I...well, I don't really feel the cold or heat like I used to. Side effects of being...what I am. I should probably try to remember that others aren't...I've got a jacket in my closet you can borrow." He rushed into the bedroom, returning with a thick wool coat. "Here. It should keep you warm enough."

Layla wrapped herself in the coat, then sat down on the couch. "So what are your Skills?"

Critic laughed once. "You mean besides the ones most Disciples have? I'm brilliant at Protective Magics, I can read a person's history from an item they owned, I've got some training in combative magic-but I'm not very good at that, and I'm slightly telekinetic."

"Slightly?"

Critic sighed. "If I concentrate real hard, I can make medium sized objects move. Gives me one fuck of a headache after, though. How about you?" His jaw dropped when his coffee table, television, and easy chair floated up to the ceiling. "Umm...I more meant what Skills do you have. I mean, besides the Healing."

"Protective Magics, like you, Earth Magics-I can make things grow, I'm good with animals, Telekinesis, as you saw, some Telepathy, Languages, and I've got an eidetic memory. Of course, that last one isn't magical per se."

Critic nodded. "Yes, I figured." He sighed. "We need to make sleeping arrangements, since I've only got the one bed, and it's barely big enough for me. There's the couch, but I don't know how comfy you'll be on it or what you're used to sleeping on..."

"The couch will be fine, Critic. I appreciate what you're doing for me." Layla grinned at him. "Tell you what. I'll make dinner as a gesture of thanks."

"Oh you don't have to..." Critic fell silent at Layla's wide eyes. "Fine, just stop with the puppy dog look."

"OK!" Layla giggled, and Critic shook his head.

This was going to be an interesting job.