A View Form Above
Chapter 13 (Helping Can Be Dangerous.) Not for a hat.

Malgastiflorian took the time to fill them in on the mission and customs, needed to infiltrate the gang in a place in Kentucky, selling medicinal plants. None of it made any sense, but Malgastiflorian was as good a teacher as he was an agent for the Divine Arcane. Either that or a mad old fool, with access to blind random luck. He lived his life pulling on Arcane muscles others would never take the chance with.

The Car pulled into a dark space between two enormous buildings. After a moment, it opened up to a wider space. Doors littered the structure’s flat gray walls. There were little lights above each one, all of them off, except the one they stopped in front of. Their own lights turned off when Malgastiflorian, removed the piece of metal, ending the low, constant roar.

“May would have loved this,” Frick muttered as they got out of the car.

They understood their part: rebels trying to do what they think is right. The other side is a power-hungry organization, seemingly built to absorb the little ventures of smaller organization. Like the one this Frick and Zekka run. All of it was irrelevant for the true mission; they were creating a drug that tapped into power that it should not have. All they needed to do was destroy it. A single plant with a random shift in its makeup. Nature has given it a divine muscle it can pull on it to replicate itself. It has not matured yet to the point where it can do it, but if it does, it will consume the planet in a few days. In a couple of years, their entire universe will consist only of this plant matter.

Zek, as she was known here, walked around the car. “She’s here with you, Paul,” the name fumbled out of her mouth, “seeing all of it through me.”

“Yes, yes, we are all happy that May is here, but we have only moments. Once we get in, the ladies will want to steal you away and talk. Frick—or rather, Paul—will enter with me. We get to the plant and destroy it. This will all be over, we’ll back at the tavern like the old days”

“Mal opened the door; two people stood at the entrance at the end of the dimly lit hallway.

The woman standing in front of a rather buff gentleman, turned around and screeched excitedly. “Zekkie!” She came running over to her, grabbing her hand. “I just came to give Jonny his lunch. Come, hurry; Sharra says she has some good News.” She grabbed her hand, and she was whisked away. She was wearing a beautiful, layered dress that bounced as they walked into a room. Her new friend’s voice was as loud as it was shrill, apparently, that is how they did it here. The instant she was introduced to the cacophony of noise, she got a splitting headache. She found a comfortable seat, “don’t tell me you wouldn’t; it’s like nails on a chalkboard,” she muttered quietly to herself. One of the ladies heard her

“What was that, Zekkie?” the one who brought her here asked.

“I was admiring your dress. I like the way it bounces when you walk; it’s really quite stylish.” Zekka said, repeating the earlier observation of a hat.

“I like your hat, Zekkie” she said, snatching it off her head, intending to place it on her own…

…Zekka took it, and put the hat back on, it was clear that the narrator in the hat was quiet while on the stranger’s head. She was relieved. “Where did you get it?”

“Paul gave it to me,” she said quietly.

“Aww, you two are so sweet,” she cooed affectionately. The other two ladies had finished their discussion when her companion asked, “So, Sharra, you have news?”

She nodded excitedly, and the other two got whatever hint she was trying to convey because they erupted in a loud piercing scream, “YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Zekka winced at the noise, as they all jumped up and down, screaming around her. She definitely drew the short straw on this mission. A Loud crash came from the distance, and moments later Frick and Malgastiflorian shot through the door. The ladies shock sent them rapidly out of the room, the guys took a seat next to Zekka. “Took you two long enough,” she said as everything around her became the familiar tavern they left in their own world.

They were back. “Well, I thought Paul was a better actor than I was giving him credit.”

“Don’t blame this on me, old man; if you hadn’t threatened him with the ‘Wrath of all that is good’ then maybe he would have trusted me.” They both broke out into a fit of laughter.

Reminded by the voice in her head, she pulled them back on track by handing the black pointed hat to Frick. He took the hat and put it on, saying, “Let’s get this over with, I want to hold my wife again.” It looked rather silly.