To my delight and surprise, people actually wanted a Thrasher and Scapegrace chapter! I hope this suffices, I wanted to get it published ASAP. I tried to make it funny, so tell me if I succeeded/failed.

P.S – I'm planning out a China chapter and Valkyrie chapter. Coming soon…

Scapegrace was enjoying having his old body back.

Of course it wasn't as beautiful as the woman he had once been, and admittedly bits did keep on falling off it, but it was like coming home after a long, hard day at work.

Except he had never really had a long hard day at work. Before the war, he had been the Killer Supreme, then the Zombie King, then a beautiful woman. He had never really had a proper job, if he thought about it.

So maybe that was why he was stood in front of Grand Mage Sorrows, trying to outline his best characteristics and qualifications so he could get one.

"So, uh, yeah…" he trailed off lamely after telling her how good he would be at reconnaissance because of how inconspicuous he was. That was the best point he could think of. He didn't have anything else.

China Sorrows looked over him from her desk. Scapegrace tried to avoid looking at her, even though he had a sneaking suspicion that her spell of beauty didn't work on him. After all, his heart belonged to another, now.

After the showdown in the Necropolis and Thrasher's – no, Gerald's – momentary death, he had felt awful about how he had treated the poor man, and so they had sat down and had a long talk about themselves. Scapegrace, like a blind fool, had forced himself into thinking that he didn't love his first-ever zombie, but with Thra-Gerald's help he allowed himself to open up and let him into his heart.

Admittedly, they hadn't gone on a date yet, but it was a working progress. And their bodies were getting fixed, so now bits weren't falling off of him regularly. Life was good.

He swallowed nervously and met the Grand Mage's icy blue eyes. He was sure he saw a smile dance across her face before she gave a delicate sigh and spoke.

"Scapegrace, you do not possess the qualities that a spy would need to be successful in the field." His head dropped. "But," she continues. "I have to say that you are correct in that you are a very inconspicuous man. So I propose a test."

He had perked up again now. A test sounded promising. But he had never been good at tests.

"You and your partner, the other zombie -" (his heart leapt at the mention) "- will go and gather information tonight, under the guise of a date, on the plans of a certain woman." Her mouth twisted slightly on the word. "She will be at the Ritz in Dublin tonight, meeting an informant. Your table will be right next to hers, and as you walk past it, you will drop a microphone into her coat pocket. If you succeed, we will see about your future career. If you do not, the loss of your life is not that much of an issue to me."

An idiotic smile spread across his face before he could help it.

"Of course, ma'am," he saluted her.

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand in dismissal. "Now get out. And don't tell your imbecile of a boyfriend."

Delighted, he hurried from the Grand Mage's office, eager to get home to share the good news with Gerald – and also Clarabelle.

Clarabelle, bless her, had always loved the idea of him and Gerald being together (she called it 'shipping' them). Once they had shared the good news with her, she had proceeded to cry and laugh and hug them all at the same time, which had been an admittedly overwhelming experience. Ever since, she had been hounding Scapegrace about their first date.

Nearly running through Roarhaven, he reached their house and flung open the door.

"Vaurien!" someone squealed, and hurled themselves into his arms.

It was Clarabelle. Of course it was Clarabelle. Th-Gerald was very cautious about their physical relationship. As he patted her awkwardly on the back, he looked over her shoulder to see Gerald hovering in the doorway, smiling slightly. His heart stuttered.

"Hi, Clarabelle," he said, removing her arms from around his neck. Gerald had ducked back through to the kitchen.

"How did it go with China, Scapey?" she asked him brightly.

He grinned at her. "Wait until you hear…" he said, trying to inject an aura of mystery to his announcement.

Clarabelle just laughed. "She gave you a test, didn't she?"

His smile fell slightly. "How – how did you know?"

"It's just the kind of thing that she'd do. Let's go and tell Gerald!"

She grabbed his hand and tugged him through to the kitchen, where Gerald was making him a cup of tea. He turned slightly pink when he saw them, and knocked over the sugar pot.

"V-Vaurien!" he stammered, turning even pinker. Scapegrace just smiled at him, trying to tell him that it was okay, because he was so cute.

"I have something to tell you," he said. Thra-crap, Gerald looked at him, as trusting as a puppy. He felt a jerk in his stomach. Still he puffed himself up self-importantly and announced: "We have a date."

Clarabelle squealed and clapped while Gerald turned a deep shade of red and exclaimed, "Oh, Vaurien! Where to? Not that I'm bothered, I'm happy just to be with you-"

"The Ritz," Scapegrace interrupted. Gerald gasped and Clarabelle screamed even louder, but it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to see that he was making his friend, and, well, almost-boyfriend, happy.

"Better start getting ready," he winked at Th-Gerald. "This is going to be fancy."

In retrospect, Scapegrace could see that everything was going badly from the moment they had walked in through the posh double doors.

For a start, Gerald had knocked over a vase and spilled expensive-looking roses everywhere, earning them more than a few dirty looks from the doorman, barely five seconds after entering.

Then Scapegrace himself had misplaced the tiny microphone that the Grand Mage had given him, and had spent several frantic minutes in the bathroom trying to find it. Finally finding it and emerging victorious, he found a smug waiter and an embarrassed Gerald waiting for him.

"What did you say?" he whispered to Thra-Gerald as they weaved through the other tables. "What was your excuse for me taking so long?"

"I…" he hung his head in shame. "I might had said that you had a bad case of diarrhoea…"

Scapegrace didn't know whether to break into hysterical, panicky laughter or burst into shameful tears. He ended up making a choking noise, eliciting concerned looks from several diners and Gerald grabbing his arm in concern.

"I'm fine," he muttered, trying to quell his anger so that he didn't cause a scene. He had to prove to Grand Mage Sorrows that he was the perfect undercover agent.

Once they were seated, Scapegrace began calculating the perfect way to drop the mic into the pocket of the woman. It wasn't hard to figure out which woman; she was almost as beautiful as China, but her features were harder and crueller. She looked like the kind of woman who would incur the wrath of China Sorrows.

They ordered and made small talk until Scapegrace made the excuse to go to the bathroom. He walked right past the woman, and then artfully (or so he thought) bumped into her chair. In doing so, he managed to drop the microphone into the inner pocket of the stylish coat on the back of her chair.

"Oh, sorry," he smiled slightly as she turned and gave him a frosty look, before turning back to her dinner date.

When he was in the bathroom, he thought about how odd it was that she still had her coat with her in a restaurant like this. He shrugged it off, though, extremely pleased with himself.

He returned to Gerald, noting happily that the food had arrived. It seemed that this night would be perfect. He kept glancing at the woman, checking that she hadn't noticed his interference. She didn't seem to.

Halfway through the meal, Gerald cleared his throat and spoke in a quavering voice.

"Vaurien," he stammered, looking close to tears. "You keep on looking at her."

Scapegrace almost choked on his veal. "What?"

His lip trembled. "The beautiful woman behind us. You're interested in her, aren't you?"

Scapegrace swallowed hastily. "No, Gerald, you don't understand-"

"No, I understand perfectly, Vaurien," Gerald stood up, knocking his chair over. People were turning to look. "You're not interested. Fine."

"Gerald," he hissed, looking round at the other diners. "Listen to me-"

"Goodbye, Vaurien," Gerald said dramatically, and ran out.

Now everyone was staring. Scapegrace sank down in his seat and put his head on the table.

"Congratulations," Grand Mage Sorrows said when he entered her office. "You actually succeeded. Eliza Scorn did not suspect a thing. And nor did she decapitate you in a restaurant full of people."

Scapegrace didn't answer. Being decapitated was preferable to this.

"We will send you out on another occasion." She waved her hand regally. "You may leave now."

He slunk home, with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Gerald was going to be so upset, and all because he was being a career-driven idiot. He sighed as he slipped in the front door, expecting to be confronted by a crying Gerald or angry Clarabelle.

He got neither.

Instead, they were both laughing?

"Oh, Vaurien, please forgive me!" Gerald said. "It's just that I've always wanted to cause a big scene in a fancy restaurant, it made me feel like a diva-"

He was shocked into silence by Scapegrace coming forward and enveloping him in a hug.

"I thought you were angry at me!"

"Never at you," Gerald murmured. "Never."

Scapegrace closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. So he hadn't lost a lover after all. And now he was a spy. All was well.

The perfection of the moment was punctuated by Clarabelle giggling to herself on the couch, muttering "I ship it" under her breath. But even that was pleasant, in a way.