Chapter 0.2: The Men Behind the Money
Guzman Vox.
His face is angular, handsome, and shines with youth. His figure is lean and his stature tall, putting him over the heads of those who are crowding him.
His eyes are full and bright, nothing like the slanted eyes of a predator I had been expecting to see...
The Director begins his walk down the aisle, shaking hands and giving his greetings to competitors and waiters alike. Menzoa clings to him like rotten body odor. "Yes, yes, this is the good Director, no need to swarm him, people!" Menzoa cries. "Give him room! Let him speak!"
Guzman Vox gives a chirp of laughter. "Thank you, Karen. Hello, everyone, nice to see you all! Are you enjoying yourselves? Ah...oh, yes, I'm doing well myself, Too, thank you! I'll have to apologize to you all for being a bit later than expected..."
"You apologize by giving us each 5,000 bolts!" Thing Wun laughs.
"Yeah, let's toss a brand new, paid off hovercar in there, too!" a waiter calls out.
In the midst of the ensuing chorus of laughter, a hand gently closes over my wrist. Clank murmurs my name.
I hardly acknowledge him, staying slightly perked with my eyes on Vox. I try to move the hand Clank is holding onto.
He sharply tugs it back. "Ratchet, no. Look..."
I glance down. He'd stopped me from reaching for my waistband, where my compact blaster was hidden. After several long moments I slowly move my hand back to the table. The tips of my fingers tingle in protest.
"Oooo-ooo, wee…" Noinah muses. Two of her eyes are leering at me, and the third one follows Vox down the aisle. "Now if that ain't a murderous look, I don't know what is…"
"You must try to calm down, Ratchet," Clank says quietly, and I sit back in a daze; The Head of Security approaches our table, giving me a peculiar glance as he passes. Vox is close behind, with his pet Menzoa drooling around his ankles.
"Yo," says Noinah, waving a hand. "What's up, doc?"
Menzoa clears his throat, making my ears twitch in annoyance. "That is the Director."
However, Vox gives Noinah a kind smile. "Hello, Noinah! I see you've made yourself comfortable."
"Shit, give me several more drinks and then I'll show you comfortable," Noinah says with a wheezing laugh, slapping the table.
"You did provide well established conventions," Clank says politely.
"Thank you, Clank. It's the very least I can do for everyone," Vox turns to me, his smile unrelenting. "And how are you, Ratchet?"
I stare up at him, painfully tense. The silence thickens as Vox waits patiently for an answer. Menzoa raises a brow, looking between us.
"What are we having here, a staring contest?" he demands. "Come now, up to the stage, Guzman! Ophelia's waiting."
"Okay," says Vox, seemingly unbothered. As they move on, Clank shifts awkwardly in the way he does when he wants to say something but doesn't know how to say it.
Ophelia seems eager. She leaps off the stage, lands elegantly on her hooves and runs the rest of the way towards Vox. They call each other's names in jubilation, smashing together in a hug. An uncomfortable feeling settles on my shoulders. My mind suddenly, briefly goes to Talwyn.
Then Qwark swoops in like a Thwog, crushing them together in his arms.
"Oh, Qwark—!"
"Y-Yes, hello Copernicus!"
Ophelia and Vox sound like they can barely breathe; Menzoa pecks at Qwark's knee several times with a finger, swelling indignantly. "Let go before you break them in half!"
Qwark relents quickly, as if he realizes he'd gotten too excited for the hundredth time. The pair appear to be a bit flustered, but unhurt, when they're released. "Thank you for the hug, Copernicus," Vox says breathlessly. "It's quite alright, Karen."
Qwark curls his top lip, giving Menzoa a smarmy grin before following Vox and Ophelia up to the stage. The agent visibly bristles as he trails after them.
"Al...alright," Vox says with a slight pant. If I were in a more appropriate mood I would've empathized with him. Qwark's hugs were a subdued form of torture, something I could give an hour lecture about.
By the time he's caught his breath, the room has already fallen silent in anticipation.
"I just wanted to say...that, all of you," Vox raises his hands theatrically, looking around the room raptly, "are champions."
"Say it louder, Director!" Thing Too yells.
"ALL of you are champions! My champions! It's only because of you all that these events can be finally realized, held, and broadcasted for trillions upon trillions to see!"
Skidd almost chokes on his drink, slopping some of it down his front. "T-Trillions up-puh-puh-pon t-t-t...?" he squeaks. Noinah snickers but hands him a napkin to clean himself up.
"It's not much longer, folks!" Vox announces, his arms folded behind his back. He shakes his head. "I couldn't describe my excitement, really, but I know it must pale in comparison to what you all are feeling now. Just as you helped me realize my dreams to completion, I hope I can deliver the entire time you're within my dome. There, everything will be catered to you, my competitors, to maximize your enjoyment."
He looks at Menzoa who's poised, head straight, chin up, on his right, then to Kodiak who stands at attention not too much farther away. He regards Ophelia at his left shoulder, and Qwark next to her. The look of reverence in his eyes swells.
"Not all of my event staff are here with us today, but all of them likewise know they are my highly valued companions." Vox continues. "Please, come to appreciate them. They are the ones who take care of all matters from minor details to, well, whatever I request of them. And then more."
Menzoa opens his mouth.
"Yeah, of course!" Qwark blurts out, a bit louder than what was necessary. "We're all glad to be here, Guzman!"
"I—" Menzoa starts.
"I agree ten times over!" Buz yells from across the room.
Thing Too is the next to add, "I've been waiting for the events so bad, I've been DREAMING about them! We can't wait to compete!"
"And eat!" his brother adds, laughing. Their sentiments are echoed across the room; Vox's mouth creases in, and he tucks his chin in slightly. I now notice a redness on his face and get the odd feeling it'd been there for a while.
"Thank you, everyone, thank you. And, well," Vox tugs at his collar, swinging a hand up as he looks around sheepishly. "I know you may have expected more from me—uh, today, but I've really got nothing else to say at the moment! Yes, today, I'd rather give you all time to enjoy yourselves and have a good time getting to know your block mates. Don't worry! We'll all have plenty of time to talk about everything in detail the next time we meet. Later on we'll take pictures to cap off the night, but until then, have at it! But, if there's something you just have to know in the meanwhile—"
The smaller Kerchu marches past our table, "Yup, I got a question. It's a bit of a private one, though."
He twists his head around, his beady eyes shifting about as if daring anyone to try to listen in.
Vox appears unfazed. "Yes! What is it, Teddy?"
The Kerchu approaches them, lowering his voice. I strain my ears, barely making out his question: "Yeah, I heard there was a cash prize. What's it amount to?"
"Ooh, I can answer that!" Qwark exclaims, looming over the poor Kerchu. "I'm the one who's in charge of keeping it locked up, you know!"
It doesn't look like anyone else had any more concerns or questions, and slowly the rest of the room begins to rouse again with idle talk. This time, excitement is charged in the air.
"You alright there, Stammers?" Noinah asks Skidd. "Need another napkin for your pants?"
"No way! I just had to let it sink in that...a ton of people are gonna be watching us and stuff. Like, basically the ent-t-tire universe," Skidd says, sounding as though he's about to faint. "...s-so uh, the Director. He's a really chill type of dude, isn't he? I thought he'd be an evil overlord or something."
"What are you two doing, getting on the Director's ass like this?" asks Noinah, one eye on me and the other on Skidd.
"Well, it's just that…you know. Entertainment can be a really corruptive industry," Skidd says defensively, crossing his arms. "I'm not the savviest guy, but even I know that. Plus, my best bud Al is on the event staff, and he's all..."
My mouth drops open slightly and I tune him out, stunned.
Al was on the event staff? How…why?
What did he think of Vox, then?
Was he forced to work for him?
I grind my teeth together. The table creaks where I clench my hand into it.
"...then Al's sort of nervous because of, like, past stuff he told me about, you know, that maybe I shouldn't bring it up here—"
"Alright, alright, then," Noinah says impatiently, cutting Skidd off. "Look, stop being like that. I'd not think there's anything to worry 'bout with the Director. Don't know if you noticed, but these eyes saw him quivering up there on the stage when we were getting riled up earlier. Must be shy, past all that show he was putting on. Seems to me he'd break in half if you so much as raised your voice in displeasure at him."
"Eeyeah, but...don't you know about…you know," Skidd presses.
"Probably not," Noinah answers. "I ain't up on current events, or really anything that's been happenin' for the past decade or so. If you're not about to tell me he's some sorta known criminal mastermind, I'm not too liable to change my impression of him."
Skidd's eyes quickly cut to me, then away so fast I could swear he never looked my way. I stand up.
"Oh yeah, and what's with you all'a sudden, Sugar?" asks Noinah.
I clear my throat, looking anywhere but at the Pythor in the room. "I'm going out for a bit."
"Good idea," Clank mutters.
I had to go see what Aphelion had to say, anyway. As I push my chair under the table, I notice Menzoa staring at me with nothing short of irritation. He probably considers it rude to leave when the Director just got here.
I couldn't be assed to care. The room sways as I leave. I'd gotten such an adrenaline rush from Vox's appearance. Now my body was reminding me I was still drunk. The fog in my brain right now isn't doing me any favors.
"What's got your stripes in a twist?" the grungy Kerchu cackles at me when I walk past his table.
The little robot Buz was over at Rover Ravenda's table, talking to the dark racer. As I leave the room, I'm sure I can feel Ravenda's eyes drilling into the back of my head. What, did he think the same way as his agent?
Neither of the guards outside give me more than a glance, or even speak a word when I come out.
Fine by me. I didn't feel like talking right now.
I take the first left turn down the hall, entering a small corridor. Past four marble steps is a glass door, leading out into a wide balcony. Once outside I inhale slowly, enjoying the sharp, cool breeze washing by.
I walk to the railing, then lean on it and lower my head. It's pounding slightly. The fog in it thins by a margin.
The gusting wind cools me down. My muscles gradually relax, and I will myself to breath deeper. I'm not sure how much time passes, listening to the steady drone of the unending air traffic.
Once I begin to process his appearance all over again, I find myself unable to focus on anything else but Vox. His face, his voice. Everything about him hits hard and brings back too much at once.
Right now, even after I've calmed down I don't know how to feel. My instincts had told me to be guarded and to react naturally when seeing Vox.
Whenever I acted on sheer impulse, the results weren't always favorable. All I knew is that Clank had held me back, yet again, and that he was the right one most of the time.
I only move my hand, slipping it underneath my jacket to press down on my transceiver.
"Aphelion," I begin, then clear my throat since my voice is a bit hoarse. "Is everything alright?"
"I should ask you that. You don't sound like yourself."
"It's nothing I want to talk about now."
"Very well, then," she says smartly. "I wanted to let you know I received a message about half an hour ago. Ordinarily I'd not alert you, however..."
"If it's something noteworthy then I don't mind stepping out for a moment," I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Who sent it?"
"That detail has been impossible for me to determine."
"Huh...what? Really? Have you ever had that problem before?"
"No, but that's not what bothers me the most. The contents of the message are even more concerning."
The breeze picks up again, slicing into me like a chilling ax-head. I lift my head from the railing and fight the shudder trying to run down my spine.
"What's in it?" I ask steadily.
"You may as well come down."
"Alright. Give me a minute, Aphelion."
But, for seconds after I hang up, I don't move and stare at the skyline, bothered. An anonymous message was odd enough. Universally, electronic messages can be traced back to their origin with ease. And it wasn't as if Aphelion was a toaster. She was one of the most advanced ships in the known universe, augmented by the power of a race of energy beings!
Yet now...something is off. I can feel it.
Vox's face suddenly swims in front of my eyes, making me shut them briefly. I turn, and when I open them he's hovering in front of me, hand outstretched.
I stumble over my feet as I sidestep him and retreat along the side of the railing, barking, "Don't touch me!"
He jolts back, as if I'd punched him in the face rather than shouted. Vox's face is no longer filled with warmth or excitement. Nor anger, or annoyance that I had somewhat expected after my reaction.
Out from underneath the lights of the stage, his face now seems slightly pale and washed out. His hands are held loose at his sides and shake slightly. He sways a bit on his trembling legs. His eyes are big and watery.
Noinah's words from earlier float through my head. Seems to me he'd break in half if you so much as raised your voice in displeasure at him.
On top of everything else, I now feel uncomfortable because it looks like she was right. It only makes me want to get upset all over again. It's not like I wanted to snap at him. I wasn't even ready to be around him now. Damn it, why'd he have to follow me?
"…sorry," I mutter.
Vox nods a bit awkwardly; he tries to keep a casual air, but I still see his hands quivering as he puts them in his pockets. He speaks, his voice barely audible. "N-No, I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Then why did you follow me?"
"I saw you leave, and…um…" he creases his hands into his beard. "And-and I…w-well I, just wanted to make sure you were alright. I would never want any of the competitors to be…unhappy."
"I'm doing alright. Thank you. I just needed to step out for a moment."
My voice doesn't sound like my own. Somehow, Vox looks even worse before. A wave of regret washes over me and I feel like I deserve to drown in it.
I clench my jaw. For first time I take my eyes from him and look away, making sure to keep him in my peripherals. I try not to sound as cold when I speak again. "I'm not leaving the party. I'll be back when I'm finished."
"Oh…okay. I'll…I'll go back in, then."
He turns. I catch the corners of his eyes glistening. Oh damn it.
I watch him until he disappears from view, listening to his footsteps, then for the doors to the banquet hall to open and close. It's only then I lean back against the railing, breathing a bit hard.
How could I have not heard him? He hadn't been quiet. And if he had come out to screw me over from behind then he could've done it.
I grunt. Still, what a genius. It would've helped if he'd said something before trying to touch me. I'm surprised, and glad I hadn't shot him out of sheer instinct. That would have been really bad.
I slide down against the railing, not caring if my clothes get a bit dirty, and lower my head in my hands. My mind is spiraling in a turmoil of drunken thoughts and confused emotions.
A while back when he'd delivered the invitations to us, Qwark had called him timid.
Noinah had basically said the same, and denounced any malice in him.
And just then, when I yelled at him, he looked so hurt.
I let out one of my most impressive sighs to date, leaning my head back onto the railing.
"Oh…what have I done now...?"
As much as I want to sit here like an asshole, I had to go to Aphelion. I needed a distraction, anything to take my mind off Vox for a moment. I can confidently say I'm done with surprises for the day, but I don't think that matters in the grand scheme of things.
I leave the balcony, startled when Clank pops out from behind a decorative tapestry. I jump at his sudden appearance and land hard on the stairs. "Ah!"
"Oh, dear. Sorry," says Clank, putting a hand over his mouth.
I just let myself lie back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. "I feel like I deserved that after what I just did."
"Yes, I saw all of that. I thought he had come out to follow you, so I followed him."
"Right. Well…uh…" I let a breath out the corner of my mouth, looking up at him as he walks in my field of vision. "So..."
"...so?"
"Wanna...go with me to Aphelion?"
Clank puts his hands on his hips, like he knows exactly what I'm doing.
"Look, let's leave whatever's happened in the building in the building for now, alright?" I say. "Unless you wanna stay there with your hands on your hips, looking like a well-dressed teapot."
"...You did not just say that. I will go with you, but we are not going to be avoiding any issues, are we?"
"Nope."
"Okay, then. Let us go."
"Sounds like a date," I sit up, gesturing to the side. "After you, ma'am. Figure of speech!" I add, when he shoots me a look.
"It's a lot quiet now," I note, as we reach the main foyer and head to the private lot. It sounds like that crowd from earlier had been exterminated.
No, not exterminated. That was the wrong word.
"Hopefully..." I mutter to myself. By now, the sun has vanished behind one of the largest skyscrapers. The High Squeezer is tall enough to blot out even more of its remaining light, draping the lot in solemn shadow.
"The both of you. Even better," says Aphelion, when we get in. Her dim monitor winks to life, presenting the soundwave frequency visual. It must've been a purely audio message.
"I don't think you know what you're getting yourselves into."
The first words come out, dry, monotone—and the unease immediately takes me.
"I don't think you realize the repercussions. The idea of trusting Vox is as foolish as it will be regrettable. He's an unsavory man. He's a quivering worm, that hides his face from within his golden cocoon of wealth and power. His weakness, what he obscures from the eyes of many, is the most dangerous weapon he wields next to his influence.
There are many in the galaxy who fear his possible ascension to more power. Power often gives one a sense of glory, control, and neediness. It's a perilous trap to fall into. And in falling into it, he has drawn in dozens of other people to help contribute to his growth. His closest, most ignorant followers truly know what he's like. They are also willingly responsible for his monetary gain and are just as liable as he is.
History often repeats itself. And in their effort to not repeat the mistakes of someone, people often create the destinies they are trying to avoid. Vox is not strong enough to avoid the fate that has already been so deeply rooted in his blood.
That is why it must be made impossible for Vox to gain more wealth and power. There must be no chance of his further growth…
We will make sure.
…
…cutting off the edges will set everything straight. We will cut willingly. We will cut without meaning. We will take away everything from his empirical legacy until even its lynchpin rusts away to nothing...
…
...he must fall out of sight and out of mind. This is for the best for the universe. It would be better for us to be rid one man than to have others sacrificed for his sake…much better.
Do you agree, Ratchet and Clank?
If so, or if not, it does not matter.
Even so...
Go ahead, and do what you think is right. Or rather, what you know is right.
Though, I will give a warning of my own—there is no shame in being selfish.
What will it really come down to? Would you rather chose your own self preservation, or would you risk being taken in by the grip of destructive greed once more?
For a while, I don't notice that the recording had stopped. That cold, unnatural tone of voice can't get out of my head, and that's nothing to say of the words it spoke. I glance around the empty parking lot, then to the sky. I feel more on edge than I had been yet tonight.
Clank has his hand to his chin and broods deeply, wearing a slight frown. He's so quiet for the longest and I begin to get a bit antsy, not to mention paranoid.
"Ratchet?"
"Huh?"
"Did that sound like an organic's voice, or a robot's?"
"I...ah...robot?" I venture.
"Perhaps? I thought it was an organic's."
We listen to the message again, but still neither of us can still be certain. We could agree that the speaker was male, though. It's by then I notice a pattern.
"...this sounds like it's some sort of manifesto, doesn't it?" I ask.
"I agree, yes."
The reasoning behind Guzman Vox becoming so consumed by power and corruption was fairly obvious. Whoever sent this is intent on believing that Guzman was going down the same path as the Vox before him.
For the first time, I wonder how Gleeman and Guzman were related. Was it a father-son relationship, or a connection more distant? How much had they interacted with each other?
How much did Guzman know about Dreadzone when it happened? Had he been in the loop in secret and had just never gotten caught?
When I describe all this to Clank, he becomes genuinely puzzled.
"But…we have no proof that Guzman was ever apart of Dreadzone," he says.
"It's still not an unreasonable thought," I say, pointing at Aphelion's monitor. "Just like all of what we heard there."
"Yes, Ratchet, but Guzman does not appear to be evil in nature. What if he is absolutely innocent, and whoever sent this is using Gleeman's evils as a reason to target him?"
"I...don't...look, I don't know, Clank. I still haven't let it sunk in that Guzman is the Director and I'm surely not ready to talk with him. I'm not avoiding the issue," I press, when he looks like he wants to speak. "Just saying how I feel."
After that I decidedly look out the window, feeling a bit sour at myself and the culmination of the circumstances. Just when I'd thought I couldn't feel more conflicted today.
I hear Clank's joints whir slightly, but he otherwise doesn't respond. At first.
"And…if this is just someone's extreme paranoia?"
"Could be," I say, still not looking at him. "Doesn't change the fact we don't know much about Guzman or what he's capable of."
"That is right. So, how about we trust him until he gives us a reason not to?"
I swivel my head to look at him. His smile is gentle.
"You said it...we just met him, Ratchet. Has he given us a good reason to suspect him of being evil or malicious? Just because he is a Vox should not automatically mean he is to be treated with suspicion," Clank says plainly. He leans over, brushing a patch of dust off my sleeve. "Is that understandable? He is his own individual."
"I know."
"I know you do. I also understand this is not that simple for you, either. But...can we agree what is fair here?"
Fair.
I lower my head, staring furiously at the floorboards.
Tales of Dreadzone had spread to every expanding corner of the universe. Many had been shocked. It wasn't from the extreme or sometimes, downright bizarre action that it provided, but from the blackened morality that was its foundation. At the center of that dark miasma of corruption, greed, and the desire for gain was one of the worst faces the universe had seen yet...Gleeman Vox.
Because of his power, he had gotten away with so many things and had gone unchecked for far too long. His legacy was a reflection of that; countless of lives wasted by his hand, and an immeasurable number more affected by his evil.
Now, to see another man who shares his name come into the light...I'd have to be a fool to not even consider the similarities. There's too many of them. And if this was just...all a trap...maybe for revenge, or just...
No. No, history couldn't repeat, not with...not with enough people thinking the same way I was now. There had to have been more people. This message proves it.
Whoever sent it empathized with our past experiences, and that's why we had gotten it. It painted a picture of the worst possibility that could come from this. That's why this message held a particular truth to it.
After all, we expect the worse as a possibility when we've lived it before.
That was why there's such a big risk in being fair.
A bead of sweat rolls off my chin. My jaw aches from how hard I'm clenching it.
"Fine," I say.
"Of...course, if there was ever a reason to doubt his intents...then there would be reason to have a change of opinion about him. And I—"
He stops suddenly. I lift my head to look at him. He's gazing at Aphelion's center console, completely frozen.
"You what?" I ask monotonously.
"I...I believe he is a good person."
I slowly sit back upright, staring at him. He doesn't meet my eyes and seems more focused on straightening his already perfectly placed bowtie.
"...I don't think that was what you were going to say at first," I say slowly. "But fine, Clank. I'll listen to you because I know your judgement's usually better than mine. Usually."
"Well, that is—"
"But," I cut him off, leaning towards him. "I'm not going to pretend that I'd never investigate Guzman if the chance presented itself. In fact...now I'd say that's the only reason I'm even considering still participating in the events. Because if the odds are bad and he does need to be stopped, we need to be there to do something. We're not going to let anything like Dreadzone happen again if we can help it."
"That is a big leap, Ratchet," says Clank, shrinking back.
"Is it unreasonable?"
"I...well..."
"Is it?!"
"No," Clank admits with a wince.
"I know you want to believe he's good, and I hope he is, too," I say, sitting back in my seat. "But let me make this clear. I'm not going lose you or any of our other friends because of someone else being irresponsible. You heard it earlier. Al's on the event staff. How that happened, who knows. But it's quite convenient, isn't it? Skidd is a competitor, and Qwark is likely going to be at Vox's side for most of the time."
I let out a sigh, melting in my seat. Exhaustion has taken ahold of me.
"Then there's...the other competitors and staff. Do you see where I'm going with this, Clank?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then give me about twenty minutes," I say, shutting my eyes, barely keeping the growl out of my voice. Rage and frustration are fighting for dominance in me right now, and they've both reached a critical high. "After I calm down we can go back and tell them about this message."
I can almost see his look of surprise and continue, "It doesn't matter what I think about Vox now. What we need to do is consider this message as a legitimate threat to the integrity of the events. Vox may already be under suspicion from all sides, but we do not need other people coming in and doing anything stupid to prove a point."
And why I hadn't done anything stupid yet? Well, the reason was sitting next to me.
"What's going on out there, then?!"
When Clank and I enter the building again, the first thing we hear is the Head of Security. Kodiak's heavy footsteps plod closer and he passes without even noticing us, walkie talkie in hand.
"It doesn't matter! I told you to stay at your post no matter what," he storms, as he heads for the south entrance. "Macy shouldn't have to leave her post to cover for something—quiet, Morticia! I don't want to hear it. You need to follow the orders given to you! All you have to do is stand at a door, and not even for much longer!"
We peek around the corner at him as he leaves. Just outside of the door he's met by the male security guard we saw wrestling with the crowd earlier.
"He should calm down before he ruptures something," says Clank, after the south doors shut.
Our timing wasn't great. When we enter the banquet hall again Qwark is the only one on stage, enthusiastically talking to someone over his phone. From his pantomiming, he's talking to Skrunch.
"Uhh...great," I say, as we watch Qwark scratch under his armpits. "Director and Event Manager gone, Head of Security gone…just Qwark. Should we just sit down until one of the others comes back?"
"Menzoa is over there," says Clank.
"Karens don't count."
"I was only joking. Follow me, then."
I tail him over to the table where there's a broader selection of drinks, surreptitiously glancing about as I go, paying close attention to every face in the room. Was it possible that whoever sent the message was in here?
"Ratchet, watch out," says Clank, when I bump and lurch forward over him. "Oh, please do not drink anything else alcoholic tonight."
"Hey! That wasn't because I'm drunk," I hiss at him, darting my eyes around. "I'm casing the faces in this room! You think we should've stopped Kodiak on his way out?"
Clank pulls a glass to him and fills it with the most refined of oils. "Hmm…perhaps. Then again, he seemed to be in the middle of something. Ah, Qwark did mention most of security was at the Big Dome. If anything, Kodiak would be the one who could lead a proper investigation into this. I imagine...he has plenty of resources...hmmm..."
"Wait, say all that again? My stomach just growled and it was pretty distracting."
"...how about this," Clank begins calmly. "You go settle down and act natural. Go get something to eat, which would no doubt be your first meal of the day, and act as though things are normal. Meanwhile, I will speak to someone...reasonable."
"There's someone reasonable," I say, as Lia just walked out of one of the banquet hall's adjacent rooms. She looks slightly bothered but hides it well.
"Alright, I guess," I say. "You're the smart one."
"I told you it is not healthy to miss meals, Ratchet. I thought you were supposed to grab something to eat before we left."
"I did," I answer truthfully. "It was a banana."
"Did you not eat it?"
"No. I don't know what I did with it."
He hops off the table, sighing. "Go take care of yourself, please..."
"Sure, pal."
Now that Vox wasn't in sight, I'm a bit more relaxed. It's not by much. So much has already happened tonight that's taken away all innocence we'd had about the events and the those who were in charge of them.
Then again, Clank did have that special knack for making me feel as though things aren't as bad as I think they are. Just his presence is a calming solution for a lot of my problems, like...like he's an all purpose band-aid I could slap on figurative wound. Or something like that.
"Ratchet, what are you doing?" Clank's voice startles me.
"Uh..." I blink, looking from the wall to him. "Thinking about how much you do to keep me from bashing my head against a wall?"
Clank half lids his eyes with a frank smile. He took it as a compliment, which he should. At a time like this where I wasn't sure how to feel or act, there was nothing like having him at my back.