AN: This chapter is a bit shorter than my others, but I was busy celebrating Easter with my family. It was either a shorter chapter today or a longer chapter that'd premiere next week. So I went for the shorter chapter.
I got a few more questions in the reviews so I'll try to answer them as best I can.
-Responses-
deadpoolthekid42: Redstone is fairly tricky. If you think the stuff at the fair was complicated, you should see the boss fights Hypixel wires up on his adventure maps. That stuff is crazy.
AxeHelix: If you want to know what happened, check the Omake below. As for alcohol, since Thick and Mundane Potions aren't used for anything (seriously why are they even in Minecraft) I'll say they have the same effects as a shot of alcohol.
Yuri fanatic: Check the Omake below. Also it's Wynn not Wayne.
gs gaming: I'm not the riddler. Maybe I'll invest in a book of riddles instead of coming up with them myself.
AwesomeCoolGuy5: A block is about one meter so a mile would be about 1610 blocks...but that's a bit of an exaggeration. The shot she took alone is supposed to be a testament to her archer skills. Precision and distance.
Slenderbrine: Not sure if you've heard of the TV show, 'Kid's Next Door?' They came up with acronyms for every episode. I wish I had them come up with something for the N.E.R.D.S.
Void of Shining Darkness: Thanks. I like my Omake's too.
Laner: The Omakes. It's entirely up to the viewer if they're canon or not. The first holiday-themed one obviously wasn't canon since it wasn't December in Minecraftia and Carys wasn't watching them at the time. As for the others, they all could have been canon or extra. But for the sake of not confusing everybody, I'll say the Omakes are completely canon.
A Panda: You're a panda.
AwakenedKarbon: I like the exploding toilet idea. You'd be perfect for the N.E.R.D.S.
Shine Archetype: ?
Guest: Love the name. As for drawing the characters...I'm not really an artist. A friend of mine made the Minecraftia Map. I have the artistic talent of a shrubbery. Stick figures would be the peak of my capabilities, which I'm sure wouldn't satisfy you or the readers. If anyone feels motivated enough by my humble story to draw the characters for it, I'd be deeply impressed. And if the art is Vincent van Gogh level, I'd be super-duper-mega-wombo-combo impressed.
TheothertYurifan: I've got plans...also do you know the Yuri fanatic?
Congrats to AxeHelix for getting the answer to last week's riddle: All months have at least 28 days in them. That one was admittedly easy, but don't let that take away from your cookie and your acknowledgment.
(::)
Puzzle: You find yourself standing at a point. You travel South 5 miles, West 5 miles, then North 5 miles and find yourself at the exact same point. Where are you at?
Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd (Insert Minecraft Suggestion Here)
Beta: Void of Shining Darkness
Chapter 35
Stronghold
[Cobb]
"After you, Cobbert."
"No…no, I think you should lead the way."
"But I insist."
"Well, I don't know where I'm going. If I did I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place…"
"But, you see, my feet have grown weary with our trek. The stone brick floor is most painful. I just need a moment to rest them, so go on ahead."
"I'm not going anywhere unless you're leading the way."
Our argument had been going on like that throughout several halls. Lenzington would try and steer me down a corridor while he hung back. I would immediately spot the wooden pressure plates or stone pressure plates or tripwire hooks that warned of hidden traps and politely hang back until Lenzington crossed.
It was like a game of musical chairs. Only with deadly traps instead of chairs.
When neither of us would cross, it ultimately ended with:
"Oh, how silly of me! It appears there is a trap down this corridor as well. We must take another detour to reach the mine track. Follow me, Cobbert."
He was leading me around, hoping I'd slip up and miss a trap. And then he'd be rid of me.
Meanwhile, what else could I do but follow? Only he knew how to navigate the 'stronghold' (as he called it). And if he was telling the truth about the rails, and I needed an archer to realign the track, he was my only chance of getting back to the college.
I just needed to keep up my trap detecting until he realized helping me was the quickest way to get rid of me.
"You seem to periodically check your clock." Lenzington spoke up as we crossed an intersection. "Might I assume you have someplace to be?"
I hooked my clock back into my belt pocket. "Yeah, I keep checking my clock and, yeah, I have somewhere I need to be. The Stonewall Inn. And if my guide wasn't taking needless detours, maybe I'd be halfway back by now!"
"Needless? I can't very well risk our lives going down booby-trapped corridors." He explained in his annoyingly superior tone.
"No, I guess you can't risk our lives."
Just mine. I finished in my head, even as we turned yet another corner. There, at the other end of a corridor, were two tripwire hooks, most likely trailing a thin line of wire between them. Though, was there even such a thing as wire in Minecraftia? Was the recipe for it just a line of iron ingots? Or was string used instead?
Questions for later.
I made sure to hang back so Lenzington couldn't trigger the trap with his archery skills, but surprisingly, Lenzington began to cough into his fist. I didn't think much of it until his small coughs became more violent, his whole body shaking as he desperately gasped for air.
Oh, God! What's wrong with him!? I thought frantically, even as he collapsed onto the floor. "Lenzington, what's wrong?"
"W-water…" He choked out between coughs. "Water…please…"
I quickly detached the water bucket from my belt and tipped its contents over Lenzington's face. He sputtered, not expecting the sudden amount of water, but drank nonetheless. When he had enough, he pulled back his head, gray hair dribbling water, and leaned against the corridor.
"Apologies…Cobbert…" He coughed out while I picked the water back up and hooked the bucket back to my belt. His tinted glasses seemed to follow it for a second. "…just a…coughing fit…happens all the time…"
I kneeled beside him, worried that my only guide might suddenly die from wracking coughs. "That happens all the time? Is it a sickness or something?"
"Or something. Definitely or something." He pressed a hand on my hip. It was probably a grateful pat, but it felt like an intrusive grope. "You have my thanks…"
"No problem." I replied easily, even as Lenzington quickly rose to his feet. I figured he'd need more time to recover from his violent coughs, but he got up like it was nothing. "But if you want to repay me, you can start by getting me out of this stronghold pronto."
He chuckled to himself. "But this is the way out." He strode forward towards the tripwire hooks before stopping just short of the wire. Then he turned to face me with his arms open wide. "You are just not seeing things from the proper perspective."
I crossed my arms and raised a skeptical brow. "And where is this 'proper perspective' you're talking about?"
"Why, just a few steps to the left of you." He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Puzzled, I took a few steps to the left. "Here?"
"Little bit more."
I took a few more steps to the left. "Here?"
"Perfect."
As he uttered that word, he took a step back, directly on top of the tripwire, which triggered the hooks, which triggered the floor beneath me to retract into the walls, revealing a smoldering pitfall of lava.
"What the—SHIT!" I called out in surprise as the floor was pulled out from under me. I quickly pushed off the wall, and extended my hands out, trying to grab something to keep me up. Luckily, one of my hands caught the ledge of the pitfall, opposite of where Lenzington had triggered the thing.
Unluckily, I didn't have the upper body strength to pull myself up with only one hand.
Beneath me, the lava bubbled and hissed, like a starving stomach awaiting its next meal.
Stomach: I'm insulted by that simile.
Brain: And we'll all be boiled alive if Cobb doesn't do something!
Working on it! I argued as I fumbled at my belt for my water bucket. If it could put out fire, maybe it could put out lava. It was a stupid idea, but I had to try something.
Though for some reason, I was having trouble finding my water bucket at its usual belt pocket. I know I left it there after I poured water over Lenzington's—
"I am afraid you will not be cooling that lava without this." The college student spoke as he raised my water bucket in the air. The bastard swiped it off me! And he probably faked his coughing fit to make me drop my guard!
"Lenzington! Why are you doing this!? I thought we had a deal!" I tried to stall as I searched my backpack for anything remotely useful.
"Apologies, Cobbert. But I cannot let anyone know of this place." He placed the water bucket at his belt, but kept himself stood on the tripwire, keeping the pitfall open. "You see, if I am right in my assumptions, then this stronghold, this sanctum of redstone brilliance, is the hub of the legendary engineer, Jeb. After all, who else could develop redstone tech of this magnitude?
"I believe that Jeb's laboratory is somewhere within these ruins, and that these traps are meant to ward away intruders. People unfit to gaze upon the deepest engineering secrets, people like you, are meant to be killed by these very traps.
"Why, if Daymonte ever found out about this place, if they ever knew the location of the legendary Jeb's laboratory, they would swarm like locusts! It would quickly devolve into a tourist trap just like Jeb's Mega Calculator.
"Even worse, if the Redstone College ever found out I knew of this place, if they ever found out I was scavenging this stronghold for parts and machination ideas for the past two years…I would be expelled!"
"Scavenging…So that's where you got your lame button-lever machine idea!" I exclaimed, quickly realizing why he had come back in the first place: To see where he went wrong in recreating a machine that wasn't his.
"It is not a lame idea!" He protested indignantly, threatening to lift his foot off the tripwire. "It was a work of brilliance, a prototype long forgotten and lost to the world of engineering! And it would have cemented a position for myself at Potato Tech! But instead, those judges gave it to the self-cooking furnace!"
While six-eyes (because he wore glasses and goggles…get it?...GET IT!?) was busy with his monologue, I kept searching my backpack for anything useful. The second he stepped off that tripwire, the floor would return to its original position, cutting off my grip and sending me plummeting into the lava.
What had I done to earn such a fate?
[Carys]
I looked up from the felled Skeleton, feeling the sudden uncontrollable urge to punch someone in the face.
I closed my eyes, and all I could picture was Cobb's stupid face. And then my fist barreling into it.
I smiled to myself. Envisioning such actions were the only thing that brought me joy without Mr. Piggles' presence.
I wonder if the others got my letter to track him down yet…
[Cobb]
I had done nothing…nothing…to deserve death by lava. "Lenzington, don't do this! Would you really become a murderer, just because of the slim chance I might tell anyone about this place!? I don't even care about Jeb's machines or whatever!"
"I implore you to understand, I take no pleasure in doing this, but to keep my secret…It is as the old saying goes, 'Two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.'"
"Really? Because…because I'm pretty sure that saying goes, 'Two can keep a secret…and don't let the second guy fall in lava!'"
Lenzington faltered at my made-up proverb. I guess I should have counted myself lucky that he bought it at all.
"Really?" He questioned with obvious confusion. "Well then what about, "Dead men tell no tales.'"
"No, that one goes, 'Live men…shouldn't get dunked in lava!'"
Lenzington frowned at that last one. "As oddly specific as your aphorisms sound, I'm afraid this is farewell."
This was it. He was going to step off that tripwire and condemn me to death. Just like Carys had done all those days ago!
Though back then, she failed twice. One because Floyd had saved me with his fishing rod and two when I escaped harm with—
…
The Ender Pearl!
I reached back into my backpack, searching for the round orb that could save my life. My fingers brushed across its smooth, glass-like surface before gripping around it.
Just as the college student stepped off the tripwire.
I heard the familiar 'Cha-chunk' and wasted no time chucking the pearl out of the pitfall. A second later, the floor closed itself on the hand holding me up, forcing me to let go with a cry of pain. The next second, I was falling towards the hungry lava.
Then the next second, I felt that familiar rushing sensation followed by a small pressing sensation, as if every piece of my being was squeezed through an impossibly small gap. Only for it to end as I fell upon the stone brick floor of the corridor, shaken but alive.
"Comparators! You had an Ender Pearl too!?" The asshole of a college student cursed as I got to my feet. "You were better prepared than I anticipated."
"Anticipate this!" I growled in anger as I rushed towards the asshole—only to stop abruptly as Lenzington once more stepped upon the tripwire, opening the lava pitfall again and almost catching me with the same trap. I teetered at the edge, swinging my arms wildly to regain my balance, before finally stepping back onto stable ground.
I grit my teeth in anger and watched as Lenzington shot an arrow at the tripwire to keep it activated before lifting his foot and escaping around a corner.
Brain: Get that son of a bitch!
I quickly withdrew some cobblestone and built a bridge over the lava pitfall. When I reached the tripwire, I yanked the arrow out and pocketed it before chasing after the college student.
So he thinks killing me is the best thing to keep his secret? Well, I'll show him. As soon as I get out of here, I'm telling everyone about this place…except Wynn. She can't find out I was in the forbidden sector. Maybe an anonymous tip would be better?
I rounded another corner, but immediately backtracked when I heard a terrifyingly familiar sound.
*GHAIYA*
Stickman. I thought to myself as I saw its stick legs frantically wobbling towards a tower of dirt. It was obviously enraged, with its maw unhinged and stretched wide, but it didn't seem to notice me.
"Help!" I heard someone call out, and it was only with a closer look that I noticed it was coming from the top of the dirt tower. "Someone! Help!"
Lenzington. He must have stumbled across the Stickman in his mad dash to get away from me. And now he was cornered on a nerd-pole while the Mob teleported around, extending its stick arms in an attempt to strike the college student.
Brain: Ha! Karma, bitch! God, this is perfect. Just leave him there to stew.
Heart: No! We need him to get out of here. Even if he did almost try and kill us—
Brain: Cobb, do you really want to fight a Stickman over a nerd? You don't need him. We can find our own way out of here.
"Somebody! HELP!" Lenzington shouted desperately. "HELP!"
I hate my conscience. I thought to myself as I pulled out my trusty fishing rod.
It was time to test out my Mob flail technique.
"And CAST!" I shouted out as I whipped the rod through the air. The bobber and hook sailed towards the angry Stickman and as soon as it made contact…
The Stickman teleported away.
…
"Um…I did it?" I questioned aloud as I reeled the fishing rod back. I didn't get to hook onto the Stickman and swing it around like a flail, but I did get it to go away.
It was just like when Floyd shot an arrow at the Stickman near Mt. Mur. The Mob teleported away before the arrow made contact. It was probably safe to assume that Stickmen could dodge any projectiles in the same way.
"Did you scare it off?" Lenzington asked as he tentatively lowered himself from the dirt tower. I turned and stared at him for a moment before nodding to myself and walking towards him.
"Many thanks, Cobbert. I don't know what I would have done if you had not—"
*POW*
I punched him in the face as hard as I could and watched with satisfaction as he spun around from the force before hitting the ground like a sack of bricks. My fist stung from where I hit him, but any damage I took was quickly regenerated since my Hunger was full.
Not too shabby for string bean arms.
"Here's another saying, asshole." I boasted over his fallen form. "When you try and chuck someone in lava, they take it personally."
Brain: Oooooooooh! He got knocked the fuck OUT!
No, I didn't knock him out. I wouldn't even know how to do that.
Heart: Are you sure? Because…he isn't moving.
What?
I checked his body, and sure enough, he wasn't moving. I think he was still breathing, though.
"Wow…" I spoke to myself as I looked at my fists. I was genuinely surprised I managed to knock someone out. In one hit too. Then again, Lenzington wasn't the most hardy-looking of individuals.
Looking at it that way made me knocking him out seem kind of cruel…
…
Stomach: So…now what?
That was a good question. I couldn't kill the student, because I still needed him. I hit him as payback, expecting him to get up, bruised, but generally okay. But now he was unconscious. And I had no idea where the hell I was or when he'd wake up.
…
"I should have spent sixty seconds thinking this through."
[Wynn]
"Soooo…who saved the day?" Veronica sing-songed.
I grumbled out an answer.
"Sorry, Snow-Hare, didn't quite catch that." The blonde held a hand to her ear as if she needed help hearing. "A little louder, please."
I let out a drawn-out sigh. "You did."
"Hell yeah, I did! The Golden Ostrich strikes again!" She posed dramatically while the unconscious goon lay before us, awaiting questioning.
"Honestly, how many monikers do you have?"
"I don't have any monikers, just nicknames." She replied obliviously to which I just rolled my eyes. "And thanks to me, we have a hostage and you still have your rapier."
I couldn't deny her that. The rapier had been a trusted weapon, never once breaking, and serving me well over the years. Like a close partner. I would've been devastated if it was stolen by a two-bit criminal.
Needless to say, it was going to be pretty hard remaining unbiased while interrogating the scum.
"Oh, hey, I just thought of something!" Veronica exclaimed, catching my attention. "If we're interrogating this guy, and there's two of us, can we do the good-cop, bad-cop routine?"
"I suppose. So long as we get the information we need." After searching the criminal's belt and backpack, not only did we find the sand, but also several stacks of gunpowder. Enough to warrant an arrest for intent to supply or possession of dangerous contraband. All that was left to know was whether the criminal we caught was a possible supplier for bombers, or just an errand boy for the real supplier.
"Great!" Veronica rubbed her hands together eagerly. "I'll be the charming and sociable good-cop, and you can be the strict and grumpy bad-cop. Just like in real life."
I leveled a frown in her direction but made no attempt to argue. After all, the criminal was starting to wake up.
"Wh-what happened?" He groaned as he tried to get to his feet. I simply pushed him back in place with a boot.
"I knocked you unconscious. Unless you want your skull cracked you'll answer our questions." I responded coldly.
Maybe I really was always the bad-cop.
The criminal scoffed and turned his head away so he wouldn't have to look at me. It was only then that he noticed who the second person was. "The Golden Canary!"—It took every muscle in my arm not to facepalm—"I should have known it was you…You shot that arrow at me."
"Yes, and I'm deeply sorry about that." Veronica apologized, her voice heavy with sorrow. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I was left with no other choice. Please cooperate with us. I don't want to see what my partner does when she's angry." She made an exaggerated sniff and rubbed her eyes of crocodile tears.
Oh, for the love of— "Yes, my partner may be too soft," I continued, trying to play up the bad-cop angle, "But I have no mercy for worthless scum like you." I unsheathed my rapier and suddenly stuck it between his legs, just short of spearing his privates to the floor. "Your choice."
The criminal had his eyes darting between my angered face and the rapier between his legs as he gulped nervously. "S-sure…I'll answer your questions."
Veronica let out a loud sigh of relief and I lifted the rapier. "Good. First question: Why were you holding so many stacks of sand?"
This was the first step in testing his honesty. If he claimed the sand was for something besides TNT, we'd have the gunpowder he possessed to counter his claim. Truth or Lie. His response would determine whether we'd have to increase the level of our interrogation.
"The sand?" He began with an amused chuckle. "Is that what this is about? Is it illegal to carry that around?"
"Answer the question." I ordered threateningly.
Veronica gasped dramatically. "Don't, Wynn! Give him a chance to explain himself! We must see the good in all!"
I cringed at the blonde's exaggerated words. 'The good in all?' How corny could she get?
The criminal glanced at Veronica before returning his attention to me. "The sand was for glass. I wanted some stained glass windows for my house. The clear color isn't doing it for me. Maybe a nice black or blue."
"You'll be black and blue if you don't give us the truth." I growled while placing a hand on my hip. "You had enough sand to fill the windows of a twenty-story hotel. What was the sand really for?"
He spat dangerously close to my pristine boots. "I already told you. They're for windows and you can't prove otherwise!"
I glared at the bit of spit before withdrawing my rapier and piercing it through the collar of the criminal's shirt. "I know you had explosives on the brain. We searched you while you were unconscious and found quite a lot of gunpowder. We can put two and two together."
"Four!"
"Thank you, Veronica." I sighed wearily while the criminal shook in his skin.
"A-alright!" The criminal choked out while trying to keep his neck away from my blade. "Look…I may have had the materials…b-but I wasn't making the TNT…I'm just the errand boy, I swear!"
"The errand boy to whom?" I questioned while leaning forward.
The criminal bit his lip in reluctance "...I can't…he'll kill me—"
We were so close to uncovering the identity of the supplier. Just a bit more pushing. "You need to give us something."
"And I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." Veronica supplied with a hand over her heart.
"…No!" The criminal shouted while turning his face. "Nothing you do will even compare to what he'll do to me if—UGH!"
Veronica just knocked him out with a kick to the back of the head. "Well, that didn't work."
I just blinked at her, pointing between her and the criminal. "What…why…but he…What happened to being the good-cop!?"
"I changed my mind. You can be the goody-two-shoes good-cop. I wanna be the bad-ass bad-cop." She grinned and cracked her knuckles menacingly.
"That's not how this works!" I threw my arms up in the air. "You can't just switch halfway through the interrogation!"
"It's called 'throwing a curve-ball.'"
"Don't rationalize this as some brilliant technique! You're doing this on a whim!" How could a Captain ever be so stupid?
"Look, he wasn't gonna crack from your level of violence. So now, it's my turn." She grinned cheekily while I struggled for suitable words for the situation…if there were any.
"I…you…just…Nhggg!"
"Use your words, Wynn. And take deep breaths." Veronica teased while I just banged my head against the nearest wall.
There was no common sense with her. Just like, Cobb—No, scratch that. Cobb at least didn't know any better. Veronica did stupid things on purpose.
Put those two in a room together and they'd somehow find a way to destroy the world. Through pure stupidity.
"Alright, get it together, Wynn. He's waking up, again." Veronica warned while cracking her neck.
The criminal stirred, clutching the back of his head. "Ow…the fuck hit me?"
"I the fuck hit you, dickless." The blonde stated while grabbing the criminal by the neck and lifting him against the wall. "And you're gonna tell me who you were running errands for, before I get mad."
The criminal looked incredibly confused, trying to hold onto Veronica's arm so his neck wouldn't hurt. "What the…why are you suddenly so…so…"
"Bad?" She finished with a smirk before driving a fist into the criminal's gut. After she released him, he doubled over, clutching his gut in pain. "Call it a change-of-heart. Now talk."
"You dumb bitch." The criminal insulted with as much hate as he could. His words would have held more of a threat if he wasn't doubled over in pain. "I told you, there's nothing either or you can do to—"
"Well, that sounds like a challenge." Veronica smirked while reaching into her backpack. "I think I have just the tool to make you talk."
The criminal shivered in fear and even I was curious as to what terrifying tool Veronica had in mind. An iron axe? Flint and steel? Fifty Volumes of Redstone Engineering?
…Or a flower.
A sunflower to be precise.
…
Again, Veronica did stupid things on purpose.
"See this? You know what this is?" She asked the criminal while dangling the sunflower over his head.
"A…flower?"
"Yes, a flower." She replied, pleased that the criminal made the connection a five-year-old could have made. "And do you know that if I hit you with any item, it would at least cause half a heart of damage?"
"…uh—"
*SMACK*
"Ow…that barely hurt!" The criminal complained after being slapped in the face by the frilly sunflower.
"That's right!" Veronica grinned evilly while smacking him again with the sunflower. "It may not do much, but I can repeatedly hit you with this flower until you lose all your health!"
*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*
"Hey! C-cut it out! This is a really awkward way to kill someone!"
*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*
"Just think," Veronica explained as she ceaselessly brought the sunflower down on the criminal's head. "Beaten to death by a sunflower. That's what your tombstone will say. Can you imagine a more humiliating death?"
The criminal's eyes widened. "No! You can't!"
"I can," *SMACK* "And I will!"
"Stop! I'll be the laughingstock of the criminal underworld!" The criminal pleaded as he held his hands up to stave off the flower. Veronica merely dodged his hands and continued to smack him around.
This can't actually be working. I thought in disbelief, even as the once defiant criminal was reduced to a begging man being beaten by a flower.
His health was already half gone and Veronica wasn't stopping. "Who were you fetching the sand and gunpowder for!?"
The criminal lay in a fetal position, shielding himself as best he could. "Okay! Okay! It was Meyrick! Meyrick's making TNT!"
Veronica stopped her sunflower strikes but held the nonthreatening object high in the air. "Yeah? What else?"
The criminal backed against the wall, fear in his eyes. "H-he's been getting some new customers lately! Some contact in the shadows with high demands for TNT…the pay is too good for him to refuse!"
"This contact have a name?" Veronica continued, shaking the flower threateningly over the cowed criminal.
"I-I-I don't know! Really! I'm just the errand boy!" The criminal pleaded before remembering something. "B-but business started up a couple months ago…around the time Burke the Destroyer broke out of jail! Maybe it's him?"
"Where is this Meyrick?" I asked. I didn't bother playing the good-cop angle. Veronica had done such a good job at being ruthless, that I looked a saint by comparison.
"H-he owns a nightclub…the 'West Side.'" He clarified in a defeated tone. "Big glowing sign in the Western Sector…you can't miss it."
"Thanks for the cooperation." Veronica complimented brightly as she returned the sunflower to her backpack. The criminal's eyes followed the flower and hung on where it disappeared. "Wynn, you wanna knock him out this time?"
I shook my head.
"Alrighty, then." Another kick to the back of the head sent the criminal to the emptiness of unconsciousness.
"I can't believe that actually happened." I voiced, still in disbelief, while Veronica hefted the criminal over her shoulder.
"Yep. Sunflower for the win!" Veronica grinned as we left the alley to find the nearest guard. After all, someone had to take the criminal to jail, both for possessing illegal substances and so that he couldn't warn Meyrick that we were coming for him.
Speaking of Meyrick…
"You know where that nightclub is?"
"Yeah. I hear it's a cool place to go dancing." The blonde's face suddenly lit up in joy. "Hey, maybe if there's time—"
"I'm not dancing." I answered without missing a beat.
Veronica momentarily pouted before shrugging. "Ah well. If we're lucky, maybe there'll be a different kind of dancing. Meyrick probably has body guards."
I nodded in agreement. We really were lucky. The odds that Veronica's small lead would result in finding the very supplier for the serial bombers could never have been calculated. And yet, that was about to happen.
Hopefully, Meyrick would be more talkative than the errand boy. Lest Veronica resort to her sunflower again.
Inventory (Cobb): 1 Wooden Shovel, 1 Stone Sword, 1 Golden Sword [Sharpness I, Unbreaking I]{Weak}, 1 Wooden Pickaxe, 1 Iron Pickaxe, 1 Fishing Rod {Weak}, 39 Cobblestone, 1 Coal, 20 Torches, 4 Oak Wood Planks, 1 Note Block, 1 Clock, 2 Signs, 10 String, 9 Baked Potatoes, 19 Pumpkin Pies, 36 Cookies, 1 Leather Cap, 1 Leather Tunic [Dyed Green, Unbreaking I], 1 Crafting Table, 1 Furnace, 14 Rotten Flesh, 1 Arrow, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Daymonte Temporary Entry Pass}
[EXP: 8]
AN: Beware the sunflower.
Not much to talk about. Lenzington gave some exposition...and tried to kill Cobbert-I mean, Cobb. And then Cobb actually knocked someone out.
The real humor goes to Wynn and Veronica this chapter. I couldn't resist writing a good-cop, bad-cop scene with Veronica playing both roles. Mixed messages. I got a bit of inspiration for their dialogue from replaying L.A. Noire. Such great dialogue and characters...even if the ending was bittersweet.
This week's Omake was requested by a few readers, and the concept was too good to pass up.
Omake: Ivory Skull
[Fifteen Years Ago: Daymonte]
*BEEP* *BEEP*
Wynn cracked one bloodshot eye open as she tried to locate the source of the accursed noise, rattling her brain. Everything was foggy and unfocused.
She mashed her hand against the bedside table, repeatedly missing the alarm clock until her fingers mercifully clicked it off. Without those blaring sounds, her splitting headache lessened.
With that issue taken care of, she rubbed her eyes and repeatedly blinked to refocus.
That proved to be a mistake, because once her eyesight was clear, all she saw was the room spinning.
"Oh God…" She felt the contents of her stomach start to rise from the dizzying display. She got up from the bed, falling ungracefully to the floor, and made it halfway to the bathroom before she lost control.
"BLEAAAARGH!"
With a horrible heave, she sprayed the carpeted floor with a sickly combination of colors. Her pristine, ivory hair was at least spared as she held it back with one of her hands.
She coughed out the last bits of vomit and crawled to the bathroom. She hunched over the toilet, all signs of dignified grace lost, awaiting anymore repulsiveness to arise.
None came.
Needing to wash the foul taste from her mouth, as well as realizing how incredibly thirsty she was, Wynn turned on the sink and greedily gulped down buckets' worth of water.
Once she had enough, she stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the bed, weary from the effort such simple actions had taken.
So this is what being hungover feels like? Wynn thought bitterly as she struggled to remember the events of last night. It was all a blur to her though. There was the occasional flash of familiarity. A landmark or friendly face. But they all floated around seamlessly; a timeline with a beginning and end, but no middle.
The beginning—the last thing she remembered—was…it was…
'Let's go get some drinks, Snow-Hare!'
"Veronica…" She cursed aloud as she rolled over to face the ceiling.
"You called?"
Wynn immediately shot out of bed when the voice of that accursed blonde assaulted her ears. There she was, standing by the door, wearing an oblivious grin as if the current hangover wasn't her fault.
Or maybe she was grinning because it was her fault.
"What are you doing in my Inn room?" Wynn asked suspiciously, her eyes never leaving Veronica's.
Veronica's grin widened a bit. "I'm just here to make sure you don't do anything you'll regret."
The ivory-haired Captain raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by—?" Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind. A terrifying thought. One that associated her lack of memory from last night as both a blessing and a curse.
"Veronica…" She began shakily, already fearing the worse, yet determined to know the truth. "What happened last night?"
It was a small comfort that Veronica's grin finally fell. "N-now Wynn, you just drank a little too much. Now that we know your limit…it doesn't really matter what happened…nobody even knows…they can't trace it back to you…and I'd never—"
"What happened?" Wynn spoke those words with a deathly calm, her amber gaze threatening to burn a hole through Veronica's flimsy defenses.
Veronica looked away awkwardly before tossing a book to her fellow Captain. "It made the daily news."
Wynn stared at the book caught in her lap, half hesitant to read the truth and half anxious to get it over with. Her anxiety easily won out as she tore open the book to the front page.
[Our top story…]
[On March 30th, 485, an unknown vigilante threatened the peace of the automated Kingdom.]
[Witnesses report that the vigilante was a young woman, wielding a single bone as her weapon of choice, wearing white-dyed boots, obscuring her face with a Skeleton Skull Mob Head, and calling herself the Ivory Skull. When asked for more details on the mysterious vigilante's attire, witnesses replied:
'She wasn't wearing any.'
[The mysterious, and apparently nude, Crafter was seen terrorizing local bars, brutally assaulting vagrants and liter-bugs, crashing a birthday party at Pirate Pete's Pizza Cove, and severely reprimanding the lax nature of Daymonte's toll gates.]
[The Ivory Skull was pursued by several hundred of Daymonte's finest guards as well as Velocishot, the Golden Hawk, herself. However, mysteriously, most of the Golden Hawk's shots missed their marks, unable to pin the elusive vigilante.]
[Velocishot held a press conference announcing her position on the Ivory Skull's actions. Her statement was as follows:
'Ahahahahahahaha!' AHAHAHAHA!'
[We are told she is taking the situation extremely seriously.]
[Be advised, witnesses reported that the Ivory Skull is heavily inebriated and dangerous. Because she was wearing a Mob Head, her name and identity were obscured. Any information regarding her location should be given to local guards. Do not make direct contact.]
[In other news, the Mega Calculator has been—]
Wynn didn't bother reading the rest of the news book. If the low whine of distress escaping her lips was any indication, she already got everything she needed to know.
The shame. The humiliation. If anyone ever found out, her reputation as a noble crime-fighter of justice would be tarnished!
"Well…look on the bright side." The damning blonde had the gall to offer. "At least you got some publicity. And we found out how many drinks you can hold before—"
She never finished her statement as a bone smacked her in the head, courtesy of the ivory-haired Captain. The next instant, Wynn had her fingers around Veronica's throat, her hangover doing little to deter her strangling.
"Get some drinks, you said! It'll be FUN, you said!" Wynn accused while repeatedly wringing her neck. She had a full Health Meter. A few minutes of strangling wouldn't kill her.
Meanwhile, the blonde was busy laughing, apologizing, and gasping for breath all at the same time. "Ahaha…Wynn, c-calm down…Hahaha…nobody saw you…you had a mask covering your face...in fact, that was probably the only part of you that was covered….AHAHA—GAK!"
It was that day that Wynn decided, unless otherwise ordered by His Eminence, she'd never have drinks with Veronica again.
AN: For the sake of argument, let's say Crafters have the ability to strip themselves of their clothes by just imagining it. After all, if they couldn't, how would they go to the bathroom, take a shower...or make sweet, sweet love?