Chapter 28.

The

Flames

Among

Water;

Act I,

Part V

"Another brawl in the square
Another stink in the air!

Was there a witness to this?
Well, let him speak to Javert!

M'sieur, the streets are not safe,
But let these vermin beware!
We'll see that justice is done!

Look upon this fine collection,
Crawled from underneath a stone.
This swarm of worms and maggots could have picked you to the bone!

I know this man over here,
I know his name and his trade
And on your witness, M'sieur, we'll see him suitably paid.

But where's the gentleman gone?
And why on earth did he run?

You will have a job to catch him,
He's the one you should arrest!
No more bourgeois when you scratch him than that brand upon his chest!

Could it be he's some old jailbird that the tide now washes in?

Heard my name and started running,
Had the brand upon his skin and the girl who stood beside him when I turned they both had gone . . .

Could he be the man I've hunted?

Could it be he's Jean Valjean?"

"The Robbery/Javert's Intervention" - Les Mis'erables

~X~

Simple-soled shoes tapped against the cobbled ground. The young man wearing them kept his head down, his features hidden from all eyes that took him as another nameless face in a crowd. That suited him just fine. It gave him more freedom to roam about. A blind shoulder roughly bumped into his, making him miss step. Paying it no mind to the perturbed voice of its owner, he pressed on. No time to waste on foolish, random strangers.

She had to be here somewhere. This city was massive but not so much like trying to find a needle in a haystack. After all, he had been scrounging and scrapping by here all his life; he knew it like the back of his hand.

But then again so did she.

The young man slowed to a stop. His hands, undetermined from a distance, shook.

Had he been wrong in telling the Sire about their sister? His sister? The one person he would give it all for? Someone he had wanted so badly to give a better life to? A life she deserved? He had been crushed when she had simply vanished from his side one day. He had worked himself to the bone to try and only to find her in her own contentment. In her own peace.

"My life shouldn't be lived for the sake of one who had lived and died long ago. My life is my own to cherish. We've sacrificed enough for the sake of this "rebirth", brother. I've moved on. Why can't you?"

She seemed happy as she was. She was smiling again. Did he really have to let that slip away from her like everything else?

. . . No. No, No, NO! What was he thinking? Why was he doubting himself now? The plan is perfect. The plan is flawless. Their life would be preserved to until eternity! There would be nothing more to sacrifice! The world would be perfect!

Besides, now that the Sire knew about her . . . It was too late to stop it all now . . .

". . . AUGH!"

The young man raised his head. What? What was that?

" . . . BLOODY HELL! What ARE y- GRAH!"

Screams. Lots of them. Coming from over from Hillgreen Street. The White Ivy bar's location. What could be going on over there to cause such commotion? The young man calmly hurried over to the corner leading to the said street. He could hear the tell-tale signs of a fight, muscle striking flesh, the audible cracks of bones. He winced as he peeked around the brick. He had been an unfortunate victim to cause these sounds when he had been foolish enough to –

FWOOSH! Bright fire whipping into the evening air . . . Wild hair burning like the evening sun . . . .

BANG! BANG! An ancient side arm . . . Eyes cold and green like emeralds . . .

The young man felt everything in him choke on air. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no ohnoohnoohnoohnoohno Great great lord, no! It couldn't be . . . It just couldn't be! Not here! Not now!

The young man felt light-headed. His quivering feet ever so slowly started drifting backwards. He . . . He, he had to run. He had to get away!

And so he did. Almost falling to the ground, he picked himself up in time and sprinted into the crowds, colliding dumbly with everyone like an escaped convict. Truth be told, given who it was he saw back there, he felt more like a dead man trying to escape the guillotine.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't! He had to hurry! He had to tell the Sire! Someone! Everything would be lost if he didn't do something! Everything would be for nothing!

He'll, he'll, he'll go to them! Yes! That's it! Them! He knew where they were and he could catch them before they got too far! If anyone could do something about this, they could!

He just hoped it wasn't too late . . .

~X~

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud – Crash!

Myowr!

"Riley, be careful! We can't waste time tripping over our feet!"

"Hey, it ain't my fault! We've been running for ten minutes!"

"G-Guys, I-I need – Hah, hah, hah! – I need to stop! I'm losing my breath!" Blue knees collapsed with lack of permission, Cassie leaning heavily against the wall of the alleyway with heavy pants sounding similar to that of a smokepipe. Her limp tail fell behind her, dark blue clouds floating in perfect time with each puff of air she secreted. Her small hands pressed to her chest, her heartbeat running madly with the number of miles she had just endured and from the reeling shock of nearly getting speared by magic ten minutes earlier. She had to wait two minutes before she could get a sigh out. Tonight has definitely not been the most glamorous way she's started an evening.

Riley followed her lead, clumsily propping up one hand against the brickwork above her, the other dangling on his side as he struggled to catch his own, exasperatingly sliding Jawbreaker off his back to hang off in his free hand. Sharkman strength, even only half of it, could only take you so far. Tuff, being the last and the most reluctant to stop in fear of the buzzing of his head screaming GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAYYOU'REGOINGTODIE at him and the distant far-off sounds of a fight growing any closer, finally allowed himself to slow his pace. His sandals echoed light splashes from the small puddle of water beneath his feet . . . At least, he hoped it was water.

The adrenaline gradually began to die down, the muscles in his legs finally getting a say in his poor decision to attempt a marathon run from the moment he grabbed Cassie's outstretched hand back at the White Ivy's back entrance. The frantic pulse she felt in her hand had pressed him on until this point, where he could safely assume that he had no idea where they were. The quiet was only interrupted by their haggard breathing. The trashcan that Riley had tumbled into lay on the already filthy ground, its smelly contents now strewn for any hungry form of pestilence to devour and its ghastly scent threatening to poison their nostrils. Any indication of civil life in the alley were the random poster set here and there, long vandalized by either marker or torn off completely from the nail.

Tuff gulped down the exhaustion bubbling down his throat and turned to look at his brother and Cassie. "A-Are you both alright?"

Cassie raised her head, her bangs sticking to her forehead from the sweat as she nodded. "Out of breath but nothing important missing, I'm okay."

"Ditto." Riley added with his head lowered and a finger raised.

"Okay, good." Tuff allowed his body to fall against the wall parallel to Riley and Cassie's. He looked up at the sky, the daytime colors of white clouds and blue air were gone, replaced with a pallet of reds and oranges that Tuff found himself recalling to the eyes of the woman only inches from him. A woman who was almost killed all because of some, some vagabond Orca treasure hunter and his equally as sketchy friend.

That thought swiftly turned all of his tired fear into renewed anger. He hid nothing of the growl that built up in his throat as he threw his hands up. "What just happened?! Seriously, what just happened?!"

Riley barked out a laugh. "You're asking us? You're the closest thing our dynamic trio has to brains, I would have thought you'd have it figured out already."

Tuff rolled his eyes. "I know that, Riley, I was being sarcastic. I know what happened; we almost became Fishwoman and Sharkman shish-kabob thanks to that- That- That–" His face scrunched together with frustration when he just then realized he had no name to the snout in his memory. "– That giant, so-called, freelance worker!"

"That's the best ya got?"

"Oh shut up, Riley. I'm tired."

"We're all tired." Cassie finally got her breathing back under control, no longer doubled over as she slowly righted her back straight. Orange eyes clear, she stated, "We've been on our feet all day with little to eat and drink aside from some tea. We're cranky, without heart crystals, without information, it's only natural we're so hot under the collar."

"Says the girl with the collar extended over her chin." Riley joked, taking a stab at dry humor.

Cassie gave him a look but smiled.

"Not the point. No one's at fault here, so let's not start pointing fingers." She looked towards Tuff pointedly, whom tried, and failed, not to look guilty. "Those two seem like professionals, I doubt they meant to be followed."

"They're still shady. What kind of person goes up against what sounds like droves of bandits, steals something from them and not expect to be followed?"

"I dunno, ask the horse!" Riley quipped.

"Hey, I'm serious."

"We know you are, Tuff." Cassie said. She tried to stand up and succeeded, but not without her legs warbling like jelly. Boy, am I out of shape! "But there's no point in dwelling on it further. I doubt we'll be running into those men again and if we do, it probably won't be for a long while."

Riley sighed as he rotated his now tense and sore shoulders. "So what do we do then?"

"What we had planned on doing earlier. We find a place to stay for the night and in the morning, we try to figure our next move. There's still some more of this city we haven't covered yet, maybe we'll have better luck there then we did around the Town Square."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. If Vince was at that mosaic, I don't think he stuck there long with that big of a crowd. The buildings get less dense the further out you go on an island, go far enough and there's bound to be a forest close by where anyone could disappear into, even a Were-Shark."

"Yeah, but we'll have to be careful." Tuff started, absentmindedly readjusted his satchel. "If any more of those bandits show up, we'll have to –" He abruptly stopped, his hands freezing and his face falling.

Riley and Cassie looked at him. "Hey, brother, what gives? One of your ulcers actin' up again?"

Tuff didn't respond, all of sudden fascinated with running his hands over the leather strap over his chest. Wordlessly, he yanked off the bag and examined it every corner of it, an expression of bewilderment and panic growing over his face. Cassie, somewhat unsettled by his face, stepped towards him. "Tuff, what's wrong? Did your bag get damaged? –"

"This isn't my bag."

Cassie's ears flipped up. "What?"

Tuff's head shot up, his sea green eyes wide and skin paling in growing hysteria. "This isn't my bag! I thought this was my bag, but it isn't, it isn't!" He jostled the imposter bag in her direction, making her reel back to avoid getting hit in the nose. "My bag is gone!"

"Okay, okay, we get it! Your bag's gone, Tuff, don't get all dramatic or an ulcer really is going to act up." Riley said to him off-handedly. "Okay, it's gone, big whoop. It was too boring-looking anyway, I don't see the problem."

Cassie swore she could hear the small, very thin twig of patience snap from within Tuff's head as he curtly creaked his head around to look at his twin. One of his eyelids twitched madly as Tuff ground out in a tense jaw. "That boring-looking bag was where I was keeping our money. What you and I had, what Cassie had, and what was given to us back on Pound Island." His hands were practically strangling the fabric of the satchel as he snapped in finality. "If all that is gone, dear brother, then we have NO MEANS OF FINDING LODGING FOR THE NIGHT, OR ANY OTHER NIGHT!"

". . . . . . Oh." Riley murmured sheepishly. His frightened expression bordered on "tiny-turtle-tucking-into-his-shell" and "Were-possum-just-about-to-play-dead". One could have felt pity for him as his mouth upturned into a pathetic grin. "Heh, heh, well, uh . . . . There are worse ways at loosing money at a bar, ha, ha, ha . . . Right?"

Cassie and Riley both jumped at the deep snarl. "YOU THINK THAT'S THE –" Tuff looked near ready to just jump Riley and throttle him out of pure agitation but stopped suddenly in mid-attack. "Wait, what'd you say?"

Riley, an arm thrown instinctively over his head and in front of him in defense, peeked out at him timidly. "Huh?"

Tuff, now strangely deflated of anger, reached out and pulled down one arm to look at Riley. "What you just said, what was it?"

"Uh . . ." Riley blinked at him. "Just that there are worse ways to lose your money?"

Tuff shook his head. "No, no, no, I got that, you said something about a bar and –" For the second time, his face fell. Realization dawned on his mind. The Bar. The White Ivy. Another satchel. The Bandits attacking – Table flipping – The Orca handing him his satchel, or one almost just like it – "Oh, that conniving bastard."

Cassie felt herself tense in surprise. Since when did Tuff swear? As long as she had known him for the past couple of weeks, she never once heard him say anything so vulgar. At least not in common Archipelian. "Tuff, what is it? Who's the –?"

"The Orca! Back at the White Ivy!" Tuff whirled on her so fast she nearly took a step back from the look of pure outrage on his face. "His bag and mine look almost exactly alike! During all that commotion, he switched them!"

"W-What?" Cassie looked at him in disbelief. "Oh, Tuff, c'mon, you can't honestly believe that –"

"How else would you explain it, Cassie?" Tuff inquired. "He heard us talking about our money when he and his partner came in and was obviously trying to goad us into hiring them after that long-winded explanation of his." He pointed to the bag. "And when the bar was attacked, he saw an opportunity to rob us and took it! I bet that other guy saw my bag and decided to flip the table as ploy to flip this bag over our heads and grab mine."

Cassie looked completely unconvinced at Tuff's so-called accusation. A vine-curl design similar to the plants in the White Ivy grew on her tail as she fixed him with a stern look. "Tuff, that is just ridiculous! Your bag and his bag getting switched was not some cheap ploy to rob you; I doubt that Orca even saw your bag when we almost got blasted to bits. He wasn't even looking when he handed this bag to you." She tapped that evidential bag, never taking her eyes off of his surly face. "He was keeping a lookout for us so we could get away! If he was so worried about what was in your bag, he would've just ripped it out of your grasp and turned tail before things got messy, did you even think about that?"

Tuff felt his cheeks flush at her lecturing him. He just could not understand her. She could possibly be defending a thief, and possible murderer, and she was giving him a speech about easy-to-do thieving methods? Unbelievable. "And did you even think that maybe his "keeping a lookout for us" was just a ploy so he could steal us blind?" He countered, his fingers curling in quote.

"Okay, now you're just being paranoid!"

"At least I'm being careful!"

"Excuse me?!"

"I saw how you were staring at him, looking at him like he was some big-shot gentleman from the upper crust side. I bet you totally forgot that Riley and I were even right there next to you!"

"What?! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Oh, believe me, Miss Cassie, I can hear myself just fine. My eardrums are still perfectly intact after that little show back there. But it sure makes me wonder about yours, though!"

"What did you just –!"

A thick, hairy arm thrust itself between them, cutting off the rapidly boiling argument and the last few centimeters that would joined Tuff and Cassie nose-to-nose. "WHOA! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, easy, guys! Heavy alert!" Riley quickly squeezed himself in between his brother and the Blue-Skinned Woman and carefully pushed them both apart. "What gotten into you two? C'mon! This is no time to fight!"

Both parties simply jerked their heads away from the other's view, huffing irritably and crossing their arms over their chests, Cassie's tail now a zigzag mess of lines with crackles of light threatening to burst and Tuff's fingers angrily tapping at the muscle of his arm.

Riley looked at the both of them with a frown. He made a rude sound and ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Man, and people think I'm the irrational one." Tuff gave him an insulted look.

"And just what do you mean by –" Riley snatched the trouble-causing bag out of his hand before he could even begin to rant. "Oh calm down, Tuff, there's been enough steam let loose for one day." He fiddled with the latch on the flap before flipping it open and sticking a hand in.

Cassie looked at him out of the corner of a sparking eye. "Riley, what are you doing?"

"Looking for a wallet." Riley said simply.

"Riley, I don't think karma is going to much help to us now." Tuff pointed out dryly. "We need somewhere to sleep, but I rather chance the streets than a holding cell."

"Hey, Mr. Pout-Fish, I'm not robbing the guy," Riley stuck his tongue out at him, still rifling through the false satchel's contents. "If that Orca was a hunter of some kind or another, he's got to have some sort of identification on him, right? Once we know who he is, we could go wait at the fountain or somewhere out in the open until we run into him again."

Cassie and Tuff looked at Riley in absolute wonder. "Uh, that's . . . That's actually a pretty good plan, Riley."

Riley paused in his digging to puff out his nearly bare chest in pride. "As if you ever doubted? I'm full of great plans!"

"Like that one time you tried tickling a buffalo into lactating milk?" Tuff deadpanned.

"From the front, it looked like a female!" Riley insisted.

"Riley." Cassie groaned, trying to keep her voice as patient as possible with her tiredness. "Is there a wallet in there?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, I dunno," Riley quickly returned to the inside of the satchel, one red eyebrow arched high as he peered within. "I mean, this guy seems to be traveling light, all that's really in here is that book from earlier, some weird-looking little balls, a big lump of leather and – Oh! Hello!"

Cassie's ears perked up at the slight up beat in his tone. "Did you find something?"

"Yeah, I think so . . . It's not a wallet, but," Meeting some resistance from the bulk of the other items, Riley managed to pull whatever-it-was out without any damage. "It may be something."

The three of them peered at it. The package was small, just about fitting Riley's hand like a roll of bread, covered in thick paper wrapping and tied up in string. It was hard to tell if it was sturdy or not but a quick toss from Riley's hand and its quick descent showed its heftiness. It looked like a standard package but nothing could be ever be determined by first glance.

Cassie made a small noise thoughtfully. "That's a pretty small parcel. Do you think the Orca and his friend bought that in the market we went to this morning?"

"I don't think so." Riley shook his head. "It doesn't smell like it came from the market." He gave it an experimental sniff. ". . . It seems like seawater, moss and . . ." Sniff. Sniff. ". . . Oil?"

Tuff fingered the package with careful hands, feeling for any wet stains or anything else that stained, like blood. "Do you mean like engine oil or body oil?"

"Nah. Like, uhm," Riley turned the thing in his hand around as he tried to think. "No, not like olive oil, but sort of like those weird girly oils that females put to moisturize or something. Why they don't just use water is beyond me –"

A small blue hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it in mid-rotation. "Wait, Riley, stop turning it. I think I just saw something." She gently turned his hand over flat palm-up, and flipped the little package over and over until – "Here! Someone wrote something, an address!"

The writing was legible but rushed, looking a little shabby from the obvious struggle of writing on an uneven surface in pen. The words were still clear to whomever it was meant for. "Professor James Potter, PHD. 1789 Flower Avenue, Opalliou. I wrote it in case you forget, pendejo!"

"Pendejo?" Riley repeated the odd word.

"Yeah, this was definitely meant as a delivery." Tuff concluded with a wry look. He could almost hear the heavy tilt and roll of the Pandorian's accent ringing in the liberal insult.

"That would explain why those two men came here. They probably would be over at this Professor's address by now were it not for –" Cassie ducked away from Tuff's gaze, her cheeks tingeing blue. "– Well, we all know what by now."

Tuff felt guilt quickly squish any ounce of anger he had projected at Cassie the moment she looked at him. Were it not for the task at hand, he'd be trying to apologize, talk, beg, do anything just to have her look at him again. What was he thinking, going off at her like that? It's not like any of this was her fault, she was just being honest and he – "Mmm! So, we know what their plans were now, more or less."

"Yup!" Tuff grunted when he felt Riley's muscular arm coil around his shoulders, giving him a rough shake. "So now, we pick up where we left off! We go see this doctor guy, drop off this whatchemacallit, and just bide our time until we see Tall, Big, and Orcky again! It's a snap!"

Tuff pulled a face at that word. "Orcky?"

"Hey, it's either that or Gigantor the Whale's cousin."

". . . I think I prefer "Orcky."

"Thought ya would!"

Cassie looked at the two in bemusement before she shook her head sensibly. "Hey, hang on, guys. Whose to say that the Professor even is still at this address? There's a strong chance he might not be there at all. And I can't help but think he'd be a little reluctant to let in two men with pointy teeth and an even stranger blue girl with a tail into his house with a package that was meant to be from someone else."

Riley absorbed her words for a beat of silence . . . Then shrugged impishly with his shoulders. "Eh, worth a shot!"

~X~

"AGGH! Just stand still and Die, you smarmy, lowlife sonuvabi–!"

CRACK!

The rest of the Bandit's rude retort died on his lips, his right molar taking off into orbit before falling flat to the ground.

Jess looked down disdainfully at the dime-a-dozen thief as he rubbed his stinging knuckles. "Ach, ya talk tough, but your head's as soft as pudding. How the hell you made it as a bandit I'll never know." Giving a sharp "Tch", he spun on his heel and walked away. "Quality has definitely been trumped by quantity if guys like this are –"

FWOOSH!

"ACK!"

Jess dove to the ground, almost ripping his shawl against the rough stones and just missing the lick of flame that grazed an inch above his ears. "HEY! WHOA! What are you doing?! I'M the GOOD guy, remember?!"

Keg blinked owlishly at the sight of his partner practically hugging the pavement, arm outstretched and green eyes still sparking from of the adrenaline of a meager fight consisting of only a couple of minutes. Jess felt the strong urge to jump up and whap him a good one proper on his head but settled for shooting him an icy glare instead. How can a guy get so hyped up in so little time? You think he'd learn to control that by now . . .

His partner slowly came to his senses. With a shake of his head, he lowered his hand and ran his claws through his frazzled bangs, briefly showing the quickly slinking edges of black disappearing under his collar. "Uh, right. Uhm, sorry, Jess. I, uhm, thought you were an extra bandit."

"Clearly." Jess huffed irritably. He pushed himself back to his feet, dusting off what dirt caught on his clothes with a deep frown. "God, Keg, with how long we've been working together, I would've thought that you could recognize the sound of my boots by now."

"I was on a battle high." Keg claimed.

"So was I, but you don't see me trying to put lead in your hide!" Jess shot back.

"Not anymore, you mean?"

"I was still a rookie then, that doesn't count."

"So was I, so that kick I gave you in the seat of your pants in return doesn't qualify either."

"I let you get that kick in!"

"Uh huh, Suuurrree you did."

Jess threw his hands up in aggravation. "Dah, whatever! The point is don't attack your partner! Especially with your track record of partnerships!"

"You ducked in time, didn't you?" Keg said. "Besides, it's not I would've killed you, that flame would have at best just singed your fur."

"That's another thing, like I need another trip to the groomer's?"

"Just pluck off the burnt tips!"

"No, you can't, then it'll stick up and be unkempt and it'll never go down!"

"You never hear me complaining about my hair."

"That's because your hair's a crow's nest at this point, I'm amazed that there aren't any in there right now. You need to take a machete to that thing."

"I would but I just melted it."

" . . . Wha- was that supposed to be a joke? Was that a joke? Man, that's terrible."

"What was so bad about it? It's funny because it actually happened!"

"It's only funny when you are funny. Which you are not."

"I can never win with you, can I?"

"Which is why I'm your ever-reliable partner. Which is more than I can say for these cabrons."

He pointed with one claw in indication to one of the two, three, four, five hilariously beaten outlaws who lay strewn all over the street. One or two had been lucky enough to land on the ground in their defeat. One found himself dangling limply by the back of his belt on a window pike. Another had been plowed face first into an innocent fruit stand that had the misfortune of being set up right across from the White Ivy that day, the once delectable fruit now a big dripping pile of mush and pulp. The final one, the leader who had sought fit to use them as target practice, had just met his fate by Jess's right hook, mumbling incoherently about birds in a daze. "Half of them were squealing for their mamas before we even got to them."

"Yeah, the quota for bandit bravery does seem at a low, doesn't it?" Keg gave their fallen adversaries – If you could even call them that – A dry look. "I mean, I've fought Were-Kittens that were tougher than this."

"You've fought declawed Were-Kittens tougher than this."

"Heh. They were cranky!"

"Oh, boys?"

Both men turned their heads. Delha rose from the shattered remains of the front door, looking only a little worse for wear with her braid loosening a few stray chucks of white and her dirtied apron torn in lopsided strokes, her large frame easily avoiding any scratches or splinters, her hands sporting bruises, a now heavily bent crowbar that had seen better days and the satchel that Keg had near forgotten completely about in the attack. "I hate to break up yer li'l joke fest, but given how many folks are startin' to poke their noses in, I think ya'll might wanna start makin' tracks." A quick glance around confirmed Delha's warning.

Now that the jarring sounds of battle had subsided, fearful, wary faces peeked from cracked open windowsills in upper and lower floors from the surrounding buildings, doors opened to reveal others who seemed stuck between darting back in or coming out with brooms armed to strike and from the corner turn at the end of the street a small crowd stood in a gathering and took a step back at the bodies of the comatose criminals and the two frightful-appearing burly treasure hunters.

Neither one had to guess what was spooking them, having no need to look down and see the few splatters of blood that marred their clothes. Typical that such weak bandits would bleed so much.

Delha huffed at the apprehensive looks, brushing the back of her hand against her sweaty brow. "I swear some people jes don't know when to stay out of someone's beeswax. Nuttin' to deal with then but a whole lotta ugly comin' from a never-ending parade of stupid. You think they got more sense then what they were born with!"

Keg gave a small sound of amusement. "Well, if people don't have something to fear than they would hardly be human. That's been my experience." His snout turned up into a dark grin at that statement, which vanished abruptly when Delha nonchalantly tossed his satchel right into his face. Jess snorted at the surprised look on his face as the bag fell into his arms, allowing him a view of the smiling bartender. He winced at the ruined front of the bar behind her. "Ah, speaking of which, I do apologize for all the trouble. Chaos has a bad habit of following us and I mistakenly thought it cut us some slack today."

Delha waved him off with a calm smirk. "Ah, don't sweat it, sweetie, the White Ivy's taken worse damage durin' happy hour. I wouldn't still be here if I let a little attack like this scare me." Her mouth curled vindictively as she looked back at the Orca. "You can settle the bill though by makin' sure these jokers here take their medicine in a very tight and very tiny jail cell before ya run off."

Keg's chuckle was much more light-hearted as he took the satchel strap and began looping it over his head. "I doubt a renegade like me will have that much of an influence, Ma'm, but we'll do our best to make sure –" When he felt his hand touch at what was supposed to be at the tick rounded spot within the bag's insides, his face fell.

It was gone. The package was gone.

He almost got himself stuck in attempting to yank off the bag, but corrected himself quickly before grasping it in both hands and peering at it in confusion not going unnoticed by his partner. " 'Ey, what's wrong? The bag need washing again?"

Keg didn't respond, something that made Jess lower his ears so they were halfway to touching the sides of his head. His ears only lowered when the Orcaman opened the flap, stuck inside half of his snout for a total of two seconds before shooting back up, back in and back up again so swiftly it made Jess almost think of one of those dumb bird drinking toys. "You're nervous. Something's wrong." He said in both trepidation and finality.

Keg said nothing once more, simply holding out the open bag towards him. Jess came over and took it, also looking inside expecting to see what he had seen his partner put inside just last night . . .

. . . And instead, finding a simple pouch rounded with money like a pregnant cat, a book labeled "Famous Places For The Clueless Travelers", a worn notebook, a paperclip and a mound of wool that he knew he had never bought. This wasn't his bag. The package was not here. Their paycheck was gone.

Jess immediately felt like ripping apart this imposter accessory like a gutted fish, the pure rage inside him bubbling like boiling broth in a stewpot. He couldn't believe it. He just could not believe it! They had wasted a whole night, going out in the freezing cold ocean, had gotten only a few waves shy from catching their death of colds, almost getting their heads blown off from pure chumps, getting hardly any decent food or sleep, just to lose an item that was worth five times their debt?!

Jess wanted to throttle something. He just wanted to howl at the top of his lungs. Did someone up there just hate them? Was there some sort of conspiracy going around just to make their lives difficult?! . . . Aside from the obvious one.

Either used to the strangling, frustrated motions of the Pandorian or completely oblivious to the rising desire of bloodlust thundering in his head, Keg's expression conveyed only hopeless bewilderment in a way that make even sea lions weep. "What could have happened? I know I grabbed the right bag. Where else could the egg have gone?"

Jess froze. The anger in him instantly fell into a simmer, realizing agitation overriding the wish for mangled corpses and spilt blood, leaving him still stiff in his sigh and in the roll of his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Opening them, emerald flitted in his eyes like the light of a lake that held nothing but burning condemnation for the two men and the singular woman who they had helped escape.

"I think I know Where."

ME: Yeah, the kid has the bracelet, you had to be a yutz and forget abou– OHWAIT, That's the second Mummy movie. Oopsie!