Ch 3. Tanks and Throw up?
The iron engines roared with ferocity as steam hissed and gears clanked. With a vroom-VROOM, the new Hamelin military tank, Porco Moco, was ready to rumble. That is, had there not been a sharp pop and a leak of steam from the deadly machine.
"Oh, screws, not again!" A mechanic with bleach blonde hair ran to go turn the machine off, stopping the steam. He wiped the sweat off his pale forehead, now covered in grease. Another mechanic with feathery white hair jogged up with a toolbox the size of a chest. He pushed his glasses up before examining the problem under the tank's hood; trying to find where the steam had leaked out and interrupted the machine's functions.
"Hmm…Mmm…Rats, I can't see anything with these old eyes of mine. I may know what I'm looking for, but I can't see a da-"
The man was interrupted as a monkey creature hopped to his side, curiously looking into the heart of the robot. The man's eyesight may be failing, but he still recognized the familiar. "Babanas?" The Aye-Aye Catcher screeched cheerfully and jumped down to the feet of its master-a man with unkempt hair and worn-out clothes.
"Oh, Mr. Swaine, you're here!" The elderly mechanic made way for the other man as Swaine looked in, placing a tiny flashlight into his mouth. His brown eyes wandered for a bit before they rested on a broken pipe that was twisted the wrong way.
"Babanas, Gunther, c'mon out boys." The Aye-Aye Catcher sat at Swaine's feet as his Hurlabaloo jumped out, flexing its oversized biceps. "I need a different pipe, size A23 and variation 78." The familiars waddled away, knowing exactly what their master requested.
As the man continued to examine the insides of the tank, the other mechanics talked amongst themselves.
"Man, that guy must really know what he's doing if he knows exactly what kind of pipe is needed from the top of his head!"
"Well, what do you expect? He IS the Top-Head engineer."
"He's good at what he does, that's for sure."
"Yeah…and he seems pretty close to the emper-OW!"
Gunther had thrown a spare gear at the mechanic discussing his master's friendship with the prince; he knew his master never liked it when people talked about that, so he hated anybody who spoke of it while he was around. Meanwhile, Babanas carried a large curved pipe to his master who was almost completely in the machine.
After a few minutes of tinkering, Swaine closed the hood and stepped back. Walking over to a control panel, he pulled a red leaver and brought life to the once broken tank. It roared with life and moved with ease. Porco Moco had a short, sturdy snout canon that was suddenly being aimed at a mechanic with messy red hair and mustache. With a short pop, it fired.
"W-whoa!" The redhead jumped out of the way, expecting a deadly blow. However it was only a harmless pellet of rubber. The target was clearly confused, and then heard Swaine laugh.
"Hahahaha! That's what you get for making me come here when I'm busy, Sam!"
The redhead rolled his brown eyes in annoyance. "Very funny, Mr. Swaine."
"Hmph," Swaine shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms. "So, I'm assuming the 'breakthrough' you were talking about was getting this hunk of metal moving around?"
"Yes, and thanks to you, it's finally stable! It's almost complete!" Sam ran up to the controls and enthusiastically toggled with the controls like a child and his new toy. The tank's tires rolled and the canon shifted left and right. "All we need to do is give it the official practice run and get it approved by the Prince! C'mon, I'll get the track equip-"
"Whoa, there, sonny." An elderly mechanic placed his wrinkled hand on the young man's shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "I want to do it as much as you do, but it's pretty late; why don't we do it tomorrow? Ol' Moco here isn't going anywhere."
"Well…but…We can…H-hey, Mr. Swaine! What do you think?" The young mechanic called out, but was not answered; the Top-Head engineer was gone, nowhere in the room. Questions rose up on all sides of the machinery room.
"Eh? Where did he go? Mr. Swaine? Swaine?"
"Did he just leave? Without saying anything?"
"Maybe he really was busy…He did say over the phone he had company…"
"Wait, HE had company? Who was it?"
As the workers continued to talk, Swaine made his exit from the palace. One of the many skills he had gained from being a thief once was the ability to escape from a tough situation without anyone noticing him-stealth was his middle name.
He rubbed his head, trying to ease his headache. He liked his job, but all the attention he got for it was making his head spin. Being in the spotlight simply wasn't his style-another thing he gained from being a thief.
As the man left the palace, he rubbed his eyes. "Man, maybe Esther's right…I don't exactly feel like my best right now. For crying out loud, would it kill Sam to take a break from that stupid machine for-" His thoughts screeched to a halt as a Medixx flew in front of his face, concern glowing in its eyes.
"H-huh? Joules?" Swaine recognized the familiar and looked behind it to its master, who he knew very well.
Prince Marcassin stepped forward to Swaine. "Good evening, Gascon."
Swaine looked around, making sure no one heard his real name. "Geez, Marcassin, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? It's Swaine, got it?"
"Well, nobody else is around, so I thought it'd be okay…but that's not why I'm here."
The ex-prince snorted, "Let me guess; you followed me out here to try and convince me into another one of your 'ideas'."
"Well…no, actually, not this time."
"Eh?" Swaine was confused at this; what else would his little brother need from him?
"I've noticed you haven't been looking that well as of late…And I know you've been busy with that new tank." The prince's Medixx perched on its master's shoulder as he continued, "I was worried for your well-being, Gas-I mean Swaine."
"What, you too?"
"Yes, I-wait, what do you mean 'you too'?"
Swaine scratched the back of his hair. "The thing is…I met up with Esther back in the procession today. You remember her, annoying blonde tamer girl?" Marcassin nodded as he tried to hold back his laughter. "She fell down some stairs, so I invited her over to my place to patch her up and talk, but then I got called back here for work again…Anyway, she said the same thing." However, the man then stretched his arms above his head casually as if nothing was wrong. "But I'm fine, really. I just need some sleep."
Swaine walked away, waving to his brother. "Don't worry, I'm alright. Just gotta get home." He let out a stretched out yawn, "'Night, your highness."
The ruler of Hamelin still looked worried but replied, "Okay…Good night…Swaine."
Swaine turned the knob of his home, checking to see if it was locked. The door didn't budge. "Good, looks like Tin-Tin got the job done right." He knocked on the aged wood. "Hello? Tin-Tin, it's me."
Nothing. Nothing but the whistle of the silent air around him.
"Tin-Tin? You in there? Anybody?" The man knocked again and tried the doorbell.
Still nothing.
"Maybe he's not back from walking Esther out yet? But it shouldn't take this long…should it?"
Walking back a few feet, he pulled out his prized gun, a Highwayman's Handgun. Aiming at the door, he fired with a pow, successfully unlocking the door. He had improved his gun to work on unlocking doors as well as chests.
"…Bleughh…Hurgh…!"
"Huh?!" Swaine heard sickly noises coming from his home-his bathroom, to be exact. He ran to the door of his bathroom, discovering the source of the sounds-along with an unpleasant sight.
Hunched over the toilet was Esther, her blonde hair a mess as she coughed up disgusting blobs of red and purple. She looked up, her tired blue eyes half closed and her skin a sickly shade of green.
"E-Esther! What happened?" Swaine rushed over to steady herself.
The tamer coughed a bit before answering, "S-sorry…After you left…I finished the crownberry juice…b-but then I started to feel really sick…" She coughed a few more times. Tin-Tin appeared in the door way, worried for his friends. Swaine looked to his familiar and his friend, then glancing at the clock from the hallway; it was pretty late, and Esther wasn't in good shape.
"…Can you stand?"
"I-I think so…" Esther tried to stand up, using her friend as support. Leaning on Swaine's shoulder, she let him lead her into the bedroom. She was laid down and covered in the sheets.
"You better stay here for tonight. Walking you back while you're puking in the streets doesn't sound like the best idea right now." Swaine looked at his Beam-Man. "Yo', Tin-Tin. Go fetch a bucket and some water." Tin-Tin gave his master a salute and marched away. He returned with a wooden bucket as he spilled some of the water from a glass.
"Here, drink some of this and get some rest," Swaine gruffly commanded his friend. As she sipped her water, he placed the bucket at her side on the floor. "Aim for this when you don't feel so hot, 'kay?" Esther weakly nodded.
"Good. Here, Tin-Tin." The man called out to his familiar and back into his chest the robot went. "I'll be snoozin' on the couch if ya' need me. Get some sleep, babana girl." There was no response, so he turned around. Esther was fast asleep, her blue eyes hidden behind her dainty eyelids, and was steadily breathing.
Swaine smirked and made his merry way to his couch, collapsing on the musty furniture. Not the most comfortable place to catch some winks, but it was enough to make him fall asleep as soon as his head made contact with the dusty cushions.
The whine of the telephone awoke Swaine from his slumber. He woke up from his dream with a grunt, knowing all too well who was on the other line.
He groggily picked up the phone and brought it up to his ear with a yawn. "Hello? Sam?...Yeah, it's me. What is it this time? It's six in the morning, for Pete's sake…Can't this wait?...Look, I've got a friend here and she's really sick…" He suddenly grew more alert. "What?! No, no it's not like that! She's just an old friend of mine!...Honestly, where do you get these crazy ideas?...Okay, okay, fine. But don't call me again, you got that?!"
SLAM! The phone was roughly put back in its original position. The man made his way to the bedroom to check on his guest. She was lying on her side, curled up in the sheets. He walked over to the wooden bucket, relieved that it was bare of any signs of puke.
He sat on the side of the bed, gently poking at her arm. "Hey, you awake, Esther?"
The woman cracked open her eyes, awakening from her slumber. "Hmm…What time is it…?"
"'Bout six, but you probably still need some more rest." He got up and walked to the door before calling out, "Gunther, out you come boy." The blue Hurlabaloo hopped out, eagerly grunting. He caught the keys his master tossed to him, "You know what to do, alright?" The hurly familiar grunted again cheerfully. "Good," He glanced at Esther, "Keep an eye on blondie here and make sure she doesn't fall down again." The man smirked, expecting his friend to respond in her usual manner, but instead Esther merely nodded with her eyes half closed.
Swaine raised an eyebrow at this. "Huh, I guess she's still sick or sleepy…" As the woman closed her eyes and snuggled under the simple sheets again the mechanic left the room and then the house.
After the sound of footsteps faded and grew further away, Esther got up, not showing any signs of fatigue. Swinging her legs over to the floor, she walked to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. The water was tinged green as her unhealthy complexion washed off of her face. Yesterday she had found a spot on the bathroom wall that grew a green mold. She had scraped off some and mashed it into a fine powder and applied it to her cheeks, giving her face a sickly appearance.
This was part of her plan to help her friend; she had to act sick to give her a reason to stay, and judging by the persistence of Swaine's caller from work, he would have to go away from the house. After concocting a fake mixture of puke (some crownberry juice and a few apple slices mashed up) and putting on the grand performance last night, her plan was set in motion. She kept her fingers crossed that Swaine would be forced to go back to work again, and luckily this happened.
"Okay, time for phase two. Come on out, everybody!" Esther's three familiars as well as the three she tamed for Derwin. They all lined up along with Gunther, who didn't seem to mind what his master's friend was up too.
"Alright, everyone, we're going to help Swaine by giving his house a nice big spring cleaning!"
The seven familiars looked at each other confused; what exactly was a 'spring cleaning'?
"We're just going to clean his house a bit." She walked over to the fire place mantle and wiped her finger on it, leaving a stripe in the dust. "I know it may seem like a lot to do, but the house is small and if we work together we can do it in no time!"
The animals were still a bit lost, but they trusted the tamer and cheered along with her. Grunts, chirps, clanks, and squeaks rang out, excited for their mission. The woman rummaged in her bag and pulled out a rubber hair tie. Tying her blonde hair into a ponytail, she turned back around to her cleaning crew.
"Okay, let's start Operation TLC!"
There was a silence. "What?" Esther's Electrongo crossed his wings in front of his chest and gave his owner a suggestive look, raising a feathered eyebrow. The master began to blush, "W-What?! It's not like that! Don't give me that look!" She turned on her heels, heading for the bathroom. "By TLC I mean giving the house some tender loving care, and that means cleaning it, nothing else! And it has nothing to do with Swaine! Well…okay it does but not in the way you're thinking about! It doesn't….mean we're giving…HIM…'tender l-loving care'…" Her face was now a lovely shade of red. Gogo and the other familiars chuckled at this before Esther tossed some towels at their faces.
"Th-There! Now let's quit it with the jokes and get to work!"
AU: That energetic mechanic, Sam, was a small OC I made for the story.