By: Rabid Chocobo and Solid Jim

This is a co-write. A co-write is where we switch on and off with chapters, although in our case, whenever we want. We are that lazy. Har har.

A little sidenote: Jim is British, so he may spell some words differently, like "colour" or "behaviour". He also writes a whole hell lot better than I do too, so shut up.

Disclaimer: All characters are owned and copyrighted

Everything seem to be working smoothly. Rabid Chocobo, their short and stern boss, was keeping things the way they should be as everyone worked diligently. Solid Jim was drawing out the few pages for their book, Yud was slowly typing, deleting, and retyping every now and then, and Loony stole forbidden glances at Chocobo when he was suppose to be lettering in the words in the word-balloons.

In the background, there was an obnoxious blend of horrible reverberations that sounded like the screams of the damned. First, she could identify Eskimo's playing of the Star Wars theme on his CD player. Out blasting him was Edge, who was trying to drown out the classical score that he had been plagued with for oh-so-very long with some more modern music. The rest were unidentifiable. Luckily for everyone, Jim listened to his Blue Jam with headphones on. It wasn't that he cared for there wellbeing; it was just that he decided that if a mob of delirious fruitcakes running about and trying to kill each other was often looked down upon as a bad thing.

Chocobo had wisely bought herself a portable CD player and was mouthing along silently to the lyrics to songs by Sixpence None the Richer. It was a surprise to everyone that she hadn't said much that afternoon. She never was one to have a lot of things to say, unless she was angered or annoyed. Most of the time, she was, but not at the moment. She examined her nails silently, making a mental note to have them filed later. Earlier that month, Chocobo had discovered that the troublesome Eskimo had a thing against sharp things that hurt, so it would make a good threatening tool when her options were limited.

It wasn't until a familiar ringing sound that came from the kitchen that everyone suddenly stopped "working" and looked up. "Who would call us?" Chocobo heard Edge ask. Eskimo, seeing Edge distracted, quickly made a dive for the volume control and cranked it up to maximum. It felt as if all the glassware in the building might shatter.

"Eskimo, could you please turn that down?!" she yelled above the music. He took a minute to process the words into his brain, but the cold stare that she sent him made him immediately hit the pause button on the stereo. Getting up, she walked into the kitchen to pick up the telephone, which was about on its tenth ring.

Outside, everyone continued with their work, a little relieved that the "music" has temporarily ceased. "Who do you suppose that is?" Viper questioned. He was lying sprawled about on the couch. It wasn't until a few days later that he would begin his work at a company.

"Probably a telemarketer," Jim remarked, glancing up slightly.

"But even they don't call us that often. I mean, ever since that time we programmed our answering machine to mention Eskimo's name, we've receive less and less of those calls."

Jim shrugged. "I am not to be bothered with that kind of stuff." He suddenly realized that his stomach was crying out with all its famished glory, but he figured that it would be unwise to enter a room with Chocobo talking to someone on the other end of whom no one exactly knew. "Anyway, has anyone seen Nevermore?"

"I think he went job hunting, or something," Edge said. So that's why he's been keeping sober all month, he mentally added.

"Poor guy. There's just no place in this cruel, desolate world for an ex-espionage master like him," Loony said to no one in particular.

Jim coughed. "Are you talking?" Loony glanced at him quickly, surprised. "You weren't even there when we first met him."

Edge laughed to himself. "Heh. Remember? Freezing in an artic tundra, stumbling upon Campbell, the blackmail…that was back in the days when we still had Mongoose and Rufus."

"Whatever happened to those two, anyway?" Yud asked, the first time he had spoken since all afternoon.

"Rufus went to go run against fatman Palmer for President of Midgar and he appointed Mongoose Defense Minister after he fired Scarlet." The mentioning of the woman's name caused all of the males in the room to shudder.

The conversation stopped and everyone continued their work. It wasn't until a few moments later that the deafening, yet well known yell from the kitchen, that awoke everyone's senses.

"What the hell are you talking about?! I don't have any problems with my mind!" Chocobo argued angrily into the receiver of the phone before slamming it down, nearly breaking it in half. A string of curses followed, as well as different facial expressions from the team.

"What now, Chokie?" Jim called from his desk.

"School. Psychoanalysis test. Temper," she snorted.

Moments later, Nevermore entered, not bothering to cover up the great big smile that was slapped upon his face. He didn't seem to realise the tension that had built up on that room. "Guess who got a job as a bouncer?"

"You?! A bouncer?! Who the hell is running these places?" Squallid called. His voice seem to surprise everyone, as he had hidden himself in the closet for quite some time now, awaiting Eskimo's signal. Eskimo had been distracted by the music for a while and deserted his for a good two hours. Squallid didn't seem to notice.

"Hey, at least I'll be expecting a paycheck of some sort by the end of the week." Grinning at Squallid's temporarily crushed pride, he continued to speak. "Anyway, they give me a discount on the drinks, and on the party nights I get them free."

"I don't think this is going to help your drinking habit at all, Nevermore," Black Arts Viper said. Sitting at his desk, he was inking the pages that Jim had finished pencilling. "I mean, you do recognize that you're a -- "

"I don't have a drinking habit," he replied in a nonchalant fashion. "I can quit any time I want. Anyway, there's this really cute girl that I'm dying to hit on. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be off." And with that, he promptly closed the door and disappeared.

"Nevermore's gonna get drunk and Chokie needs therapy," Yud replied for no particular reasons after a few moments of silence.

"I'm not surprised," Jim muttered, wondering whether it was a good or bad thing.

Nevermore had been about to leave when he had realised he could do with a drink to keep his energy levels up, and that he still had a few minutes to get one. So he had wandered back round to the kitchen entrance. He now stood by the now empty fridge, surrounded by slowly-defrosting meat products. "We have run out of alcohol," he announced in a rather stilted manner.

"Well then, it's a good job you got a job. We know what'd happen if you were deprived."

Nevermore looked suspiciously at Jim, who had just walked in, leaving the others still hard at work. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Ooh, cold turkey!" He lunged at the food like a predator. "This'll be past its sell-by date in a week or so. I'd better eat it." He searched briefly for some bread with which to make a sandwich, but gave up after a few seconds and began to consume the turkey on its own.

"How is it that you're eating the food and doing no work?" enquired Nevermore, a shade annoyed. He tried to remember what he had last eaten, but was distracted by the lingering taste of what he had last drunk.

Jim changed his expression into something slightly closer to a smile. "My work is done. I can take a break until the next scripts are written. How is it that you're wrecking the kitchen and not at your place of employment?"

"I needed one for the road. Don't worry, it's only a five minute sprint." He changed tack. "You lead an easy life. Why don't you do some other work during the quiet periods?"

The question silenced Jim. His expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to be screaming in horror. After a pause so pregnant it could have been wearing a circus tent, he responded.

"I'd rather not."

Nevermore strolled to the crockery that had yet to be washed, and began to surreptitiously search for traces of ethanol in the glasses. "You really are lazy, aren't you?"

"Admitting it is the most difficult part," Jim smirked. Nevermore was either too distracted to notice, or simply too distracted to respond. Jim left the kitchen hoping fervently that Nevermore would not raise the employment issue again, or at least not in front of any of the others.

Nevermore eventually left the kitchen, harbouring the notion that maybe if he could depolymerise the polythene bags in the store room, he might then be able to react them with water. It then occurred to him that it might be easier to get to the nightclub and start work. It shouldn't be too difficult to talk them into giving me a drink, he thought, certain areas of his mind undulled by sobriety.

Jim returned to the working area, still finding the others working as usual at their desks. Yud, who was wearing that ridiculous so-called "Lucky Writer's Hat" that seem like something ripped off of Merlin's head, was typing furiously at his computer. Jim thought about berating him until he cried, but -- after considering that Chocobo was having a rough day as it is -- did not. I'll leave that for another day, he thought.

"Dammit, it's not fair," he heard someone mutter. Turning his head slightly, he could see Edge, who was painstakingly inking his pencilling. "Jim draws too fast! He gets done early and we still have to work."

If he had been born and raised a kind and considerate fellow, he would have walked over to Edge and given him a reassuring pat on the back, telling him about how great of a job of inking he was doing. But, being the selfish and uncharitable bastard that he was, declined and mentally cackled. With that, he flung himself blindingly onto the leather sofa and turned on a good show of "The League of Gentlemen".

A few minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then twenty-five.

No screams.

He sat up suddenly, looking about to room for anything…suspicious. Growing up since infancy in his native homeland of England and then attending its confusing school academic improvement level systems had left him a mess of insecurity and extreme anxiety. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

"Hey, where's Chocobo?"

The others stared at him, also in confusion. "I dunno," Viper answered. "She kind of disappeared somewhere when you left to eat."

"Maybe she's in her room," Loony suggested. He paused, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Um, I'll go talk to her."

"You sicko!" Viper yelled from his side of the office. He turned to Jim, a forceful expression of his features. "Jim, go."

"But…"

"Go! You're the one who's got the break! We've got work to do!"

Muttering, he turned and headed down the hallway. Her room was the last door on the right, the one door that didn't have any posters or signs taped up. He sighed, took a deep breath, and knocked on the hardwood, the sounds echoing through his head.

No axe. No violence. No bad-mouthing. The tension thickened and he blinked, feeling very apprehensive. "Uh…Cho'…?" he called nervously through the door. There was silence. Finally, he heard a faint "come in". He did so, feeling very faint. This was the very first time she had let anyone into her private sanctuary, and now that he was inside, it probably meant one of the two things: One, she was planning to kill him. Or, two, she was planning to kill something else and then kill him.

She was laying on her bed, staring up into god-knows-where, with a devil-like grin on her face. "I'm gonna get those bastards for making me take those self-esteem classes."

"Self-esteem?" he asked. "I had to take those once. I think it was, um, ten times, give or take a few."

She sat up, her eyes filled with disbelief and wonder. "Ten times?!"

"Hey, I can pass if I want. But then that would be giving away an extra study hall and nap time." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall. "I'll help you recognize the loopholes and ambiguity of it all and you can just keep on at it like I do."

They grinned evilly together, before breaking out into a mad cackle that even those down the hallway twitched and squirmed with fear.

Yud prodded disconsolately at the keyboard. With Jim out of the room, the vague aura of resentment that normally surrounded him had lifted, but he was still showing signs of unhappiness. The document he was typing read simply "FFFfffffuuuuuuuh." He was kicking the desk in quiet frustration, and had already snapped three pencils. Since they were on the opposite desk, he had had to walk across the room to do it.

Noticing this, Black Arts Viper broke off from whistling There Is Nothing Quite So Wonderful As Money. "What's the matter?" he enquired.

"Writer's block," Yud replied. "I sent Eskimo out into the community this morning, and when he gets back he's going to tell me what things happened to him. Until then, I'm stuck for ideas."

Viper watched Yud, trying to guess what he was thinking. "And is that all?"

"Well, now that Jim's finished pencilling and started lounging around doing nothing, I feel like killing him," Yud admitted. "More than usual," he added as an afterthought.

Edge looked up. "I wish I had his job. I'd be much better at it. He has low standards, and I'd feel better if he wasn't so open about it."

Yud smiled in a way that reminded Viper of a shark. "Well, why don't you? Get his job, that is. It could be a step in the right direction for this comic."

Edge began to look thoughtful. Viper wondered whether Yud really had Edge's interests at heart, or just revenge, but decided to keep it to himself. It's nothing to do with me, he thought. I just work here. Besides, Yud had now transcended the shark level, and was somewhere around the allosaurus mark.

"I don't know... I'd be making enemies."

Yud said nothing further. The seed had been planted.

Loony had been concentrating up to this point, but the earlier part of the conversation had by now had time to sink in. He looked confused. "What did you say about Eskimo? You send him out to look for strange events or something?"

"No, we send him out to cause strange events. There's a difference. You've seen the press cuttings in his room? They're all about him." Yud smirked. "I remember the time he caused the collapse of the entire Communist…"

Loony interrupted. "Wait a minute, some of those newspaper stories are about events in other continents. If you only send him out for a day, they can't all be about him. Anyway, I can't think of any comics we've done that are based on Eskimo."

"You'd be surprised. Name a story we've done."

Loony thought back for a moment. Then he remembered one that couldn't possibly have been Eskimo. "That one about those mercenaries in..."

"...the time of the collapse of Nazi Berlin. Yes, that was Eskimo. Don't ask how. It's best left forgotten."

Viper nodded in intense agreement. "Last time we spoke out loud about that, FBI agents were here by lunchtime, and searching under the floorboards. They only left when they got sick of Jim complaining about how America is supposed to be a land of freedom and yet you can be arrested for crossing the street."

Edge seemed to have reached a conclusion of sorts. "You'd support me if I wanted to be the penciller, right?" This time there was no mistaking Yud's grin. Yog-Sothoth, thought Viper and Loony simultaneously.

Eskimo laid low behind the tall, brick wall separating the senior center with the parking lots outside. Next to him was Squallid, who was under "special" training with his master.

"Now, remember, young one," Eskimo said, gesturing his hand towards the building, "the old folks can't see well. Just get out of their line of vision and fire away."

His young apprentice nodded, scribbling into a small palm-sized legal writing pad. His master continued. "Their spawning points are usually when 'Matlock' is on and around the bingo room. Be wary, young one, frail as they seem, their "Flying Cane" attacks are quite strong."

Writing in the last of his master's words, Squallid closed the writing pad and tucked it into the breast pocket of his T-shirt.

"What are you guys doing here?"

They turned their heads suddenly, and saw Tifa Lockhart, the overly-corrected bar hostess from Midgar. Her dark brown eyes looked strangely at them.

"I am training my young tyro in the ways of the Bastard," Eskimo replied. He stood up, dusted himself off, and bowed reverently to Tifa. "You seek Jim, do you not?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I thought he might be here with you."

"No. Jim's way is the way of the Naysayer. We are the order of Bastards."

She stared at them, taking a few steps away. "Oh. Okay…um, is he at home?"

"He is."

Forcing a smile, she turned and left without any further comments, her long brown hair swaying in the breeze. They stayed silent, finally speaking when they were certain she could hear no more. "She's got a nice ass," Squallid observed.

"Damn Jim," Eskimo muttered. He picked up a choice pointy stick, examining it closely for flaws and errors. He pointed it towards the outdoor dining area of the building, where old and withered inhabitants were eating their mush kidneys and such. "Come. We've work to do."

"Aye."

As they wrecked havoc amongst the residents, Tifa was speeding on her shiny red new motorcycle. "I hope Jim is gonna be impressed with this," she giggled to herself. Ever since Cloud had gone delirious with Mako poisoning, she had been aiming towards cultured and educated men of society. Then she met Jim. He wasn't the best looking of men, nor was he the strongest. But his violent outbreaks and cold-hearted behavior made her crazy for him.

Pulling up into the small driveway of their home/office, she climbed off the motorcycle. She straightened the wrinkles in her air-tight mini-miniskirt and smoothed out her hair. Lookin down at herself, she was truly satisfied. Finally, she slapped on the cutest smile she could manage and knocked on the door.

Yud answered it, and his jaw hung slack at the sight of her. "Hi," she said sweetly. "Is Jimmy home?"

His mind stopped. Of all the men, she wanted to see Jim. Jim! Jim, who was pessimistic and quiet. Jim, who had violent mood swings and an unpredictable behavior. It made Yud angry, to see the world's most beautiful woman want to date the world's most dark and quiet man.

A thought entered his mind. He was going to prevent this. He was going to make Jim boil in jealousy to see her go out with him instead. A broad grin spread across his face, and he answered. "Yes, Jim is home. He's in Rabid Chocobo's bedroom."

Her eyes grew wide-opened with surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, he's in her room. Right now." He pointed down the hallway and Tifa turned red with anger.

"Oh, is he?" she snorted. And with that, she marched down the hallway.

Within, they were busy laying out a map of the school and writing notes and plans next to certain labeled rooms. "Let me paint the gym," he whined. She stared at him.

"No way! I wanna paint the gym."

"Well, at least paint it blue," he said huffily.

"I want to paint it green," she argued.

"Blue!"

"Green!"

"Oh yeah?" he retorted, lashing his hand out to smack her upside the head. She ducked, and he hit the small container of paint, spilling the contents onto the floor. "…oops. Heh heh."

"Shut up," she said, not really angry. She kneeled down and began cleaning up whatever she could with a small paper towel. "You're lucky these are washable paint. Now get me some more paper towels." He did so and also began cleaning up.

Chocobo looked down at her red shirt, seeing that it too had paint on it. "Dammit," she muttered, taking it off to show her black T-shirt underneath. She balled up the shirt, which was soaking with paint, and flung it to the door. It issued a loud "thwack" upon making contact with the door. "I'm glad I took that off."

Tifa's jaw hung slack from her head. That was Chocobo's voice! She ran up to Chocobo's room, and put her ear against the door.

"It would've been worse if you kept it on," came Jim's voice. There came some more wet, scrubbing noises. Tifa gritted her teeth in anger, this time planting her head against the door.

"This damn thing is too droopy," she heard Chocobo say.

"Well, at least it's not like yours."

"Shut up and press harder."

Tifa's hands balled up into fists, as their came more wet and slapping sounds. Finally, her vision nearly blind with anger, she yelled, "THAT'S IT, I'M COMING IN!!" She kicked down the door, and found Jim and Chocobo looking back at her curiously. They were kneeling on the floor over a greenish looking spot on the carpet with a oval-like sponge and a few wet paper towels in their hand.

"Um, can I help you?" Chocobo asked.

"You're…cleaning up paint?" Tifa said, a touch of embarrassment and relief in her eyes.

"What did you THINK we were doing?" Jim said. He didn't wait for an answer, and instead resumed scrubbing the now soaking-wet fading green spot on the rug.

"Never mind," Tifa answered. She smiled. "Glad to see you're okay."

"Whatever."

Nevermore stood by the door, counting the windows on the opposite building. There were fourteen of them. He knew this for a fact, as he had already counted them forty-seven times. There was little else to do but continue to count. Occasionally somebody would try to enter the club, and would undergo the necessary strip-search, but he hadn't been able to throw anybody out. Quite a few of them had guns, but they were able to show him licenses, and after all it was the in season. At a more high-class establishment this might have mattered, but the Orange Hedonist was not what you'd call high-class. High-risk, maybe. The patrons seemed to be in a permanent state of almost violence - an ugly brawl that continually promised to start at any moment.

The street lights were beginning to switch on. Those that worked. About one in three had been vandalized, stolen or the victim of arson. Another third were struggling dismally to light. The one nearest to Nevermore appeared to have been tied in a knot. He decided not to dwell on this, and instead thought about the girl he was looking out for. He cast his mind back to the Thursday before, when she had caught his eye as she passed. He had found her strangely captivating, and had sprinted after the bus she was on in order to find out where she was going. It had turned out that she was a frequenter of the Hedonist. While he didn't consider this to be his only reason for getting a job there, he conceded that it was probably a factor.

He suddenly realised that he had been so lost in thought that he'd let a man in without checking his inside pockets. Not wanting any trouble, he entered the building to make sure he didn't have any unauthorized knives or chains.

Inside the club the air was filled with smoke. Anyone else would have quickly set off the fire alarm, but Nevermore was familiar with the room's carcinogenic atmosphere after scoping the place out the week before. Squinting to make out the figures through the noxious haze, he became aware that the people were all moving in a bizarre fashion. They staggered around, jerking their heads about madly and thrashing their arms like windmills. There was no question about it - these people were dancing. The music playing was no different from any other on offer. It had no lyrics, no players and no tune. It was a continuous loop of about three seconds of synthesized bleeping, and Nevermore immediately decided he wouldn't be able to listen to it for more than a few minutes without going insane. Judging from the crowd, he wasn't alone.

His eye was caught by the group of people milling around at the bar. They formed a solid wall, and he desperately searched among them for the man he had seen. Finally he noticed him. It wasn't too difficult. He was the one leaping up and down waving a pool cue, shouting "Which one of you lot is Mechninja!?"

Nevermore was about to intervene, when a vaguely familiar voice at the other side of the room called out "That's me! I'm Mechninja."

The irate man turned and charged through the mêlée of dancers. Nevermore attempted to follow him, but was drastically slowed down by dancers, unconscious people, and a man who tried to sell him hallucinogenic substances on three separate occasions in the same minute. By the time he reached the other side, the unfortunate person who had spoke was now being beaten to a pulp. "This should teach you to stop sending us those letters!" shouted the man, and Nevermore suddenly realised that he had actually seen him on television a month before, representing a law firm on the news. What was his name? he wondered. Wasn't it Adrian Fadanoid? He was still shouting abuse at the poor unfortunate in his grip.

"If you start trying your old tricks again then you can..." Suddenly the man seemed confused. Through the pain, the figure he had pinned down was doubled over in hysterical laughter. Puzzlement then gave way to more anger. "What the hell do you think you're laughing at!?"

Speaking in gasps, the mangled form responded. "The... ha ha... the joke's on you! I'm not really Mechninja at all!"

Suddenly the smoke seemed to clear. "Eskimo!?" shouted Nevermore. He could foresee trouble if he failed to sort this out. "Look, pal," he said hastily to the incredulous lawyer, "it's Fadanoid, isn't it? I think it would be best if you left. I'm sure you don't want to cause trouble."

"Well, I... how did you know my name?"

Nevermore had the vague impression that there was more to this situation than met the eye, but decided that dragging it out any more would probably be risking his job. "Never mind about that, Fadanoid. If you just leave quietly, we won't press any charges."

"I suppose that sounds reasonable." Fadanoid looked at the barely conscious Eskimo. "Is he a friend of yours? You ought to watch him, he's an idiot." The burly lawyer strode in the direction of the exit without waiting for a reply, leaving Nevermore to pick up Eskimo and move him to a safer place.

"Unnh... beware of the..." Eskimo muttered upon exposure to the cold air outside.

"What on earth are you playing at, Eskimo? That guy could have killed you!"

Eskimo seemed unfazed. "It was a joke."

"How did you even get in? I sure as hell didn't let you through these doors."

"Me and Squallid made a secret tunnel! He's in there right now, waiting for the signal."

Nevermore didn't like the sound of this. "What's the signal?" he asked, suspiciously.

"I haven't decided yet."

"And what is he going to do when you make the signal?"

"Oh, we were just going to improvise."

Nevermore breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn't had a proper plan. The Hedonist might still be standing by the end of the night. "Look, you just go and fetch Squallid back out of your tunnel, fill it in again, and go back home. In that order. It's late."

"Okay," said Eskimo. He had worn himself out anyway, and the fight had made breathing quite painful. "Shall I take the bomb out too?"

"Yeah, you do that," Nevermore replied absently. It only occurred to him twenty minutes later how close he had just come to a horrifically violent death. Then he put it out of mind, and wondered whether the girl would show up that night.

"So," Chocobo said, her voice almost dangerously friendly. "What gave you the idea to come barging into the room like that?" She stood up, straitening her black T-shirt and picked at the green paint that was dried to her hands. Looking back at Tifa with narrowed eyes and the corners of her mouth pulled up in what seems to be a grin, she waited patiently for an answer.

Tifa, who looked like she had stuffed water balloons into her shirt and starved herself for months to get a skinny little waist, sweated and gulped. She had heard stories about entering Chocobo's room without permission. "Well…uh, you're not going to believe me, but…um…" The fact that Jim was in the same room and listening with engrossed ears didn't make her situation anymore bearable.

"Well?" Chocobo asked. She crossed her arms and tilted her head of naturally jet black hair to the side.

"… I thought that you…and Jim…were, um…You know…" she winked a couple times and waited for a response.

"You have something in your eye?" he asked, the message going completely over his head. He didn't really know what Tifa was saying, but the sight of her afraid and semi-terrified he found quite amusing.

Sighing in frustration, she finally blurted out. "Oh, for the love of, I thought you two were having … personal contact!"

Chocobo stared at Jim quizzically, who stared back in a manner of horrified terror. "With him?! Good lord, I'm thirteen! That's just nasty."

"Do you Americans unthinkingly categorize matters of which you do not comprehend under the subject of procreation?" he said. The choice of words which he had chosen to her airheaded girlish conduct had caused all but her to stare in confusion.

"Never mind," he muttered, shaking his head. "Forget I said anything." He picked up the used wet sponges and paper towels and threw them in a nearby trashcan, which was overblown with paper, pencil shavings, and an empty carton which had previously contained their beloved poundcake until it was "mysteriously" missing a week or so back. Dropping the matter, he turned back to look at Chocobo.

"I'll let you off the hook just this once," she said. "For one, you're a stranger. Two, you're an airhead. And three, I'm sure you spent lots of cash on that plastic body of yours, and I'm sure you don't want us to mutilate it."

Tifa, though insulted by that last part that she heard, nodded her head repetitively. Chocobo pointed a slim finger out the door and she dashed out within picoseconds. "Well, that was certainly interesting," she heard Jim say.

"I don't know why she wants to date you, or you to date her."

"Me date her?! I beg to differ, Chokie. I have better things to do than to put up with plastically-enhanced women." He went to leave her room, but turned around to speak to her just before he left. "Besides, she's three years older than me."

"And I'm four years younger than you."

"Hmm. Makes me think how you can still be so intimidating."

She gritted her teeth. "Shut up and leave."

He retreated back to the living room, where all of the people were just wrapping up on their work. "How's everything goin'?"

Edge looked at him with nervous eyes, "Um…things are going…fine."

"Did Tifa drop you a 'hello', Jim?" Yud asked, his eyes screaming with delight. Jim looked at him, almost certain that he had something to do with it.

Almost "nothing". He does have something to do with it. He thought about killing Yud without delay, but declined when he came up with an even better idea. I'll get him later. Let him torture himself with the fact that in due course, Death will be at his door. "Yes, Yud. Tifa did come bye. She said hello to you too." He managed to pull the corner of his mouth up into what came close to a grin. He "smiled" grew when a drop of sweat came off on Yud's forehead and made a decent down the side of his head. The tension was growing. Excellent.

Nevermore returned to find the others engaged in typical evening's activity. Yud was watching his James Bond videos. Rabid was playing Metal Gear Solid on the PlayStation. She was stuck at the Psycho Mantis scene, mainly due to her inability to resist the temptation to kill Meryl. She grinned evilly as the redhead fell to the ground once more, and seemed unaware of the "Game Over" screen. Jim was listening to sound files on the computer, but they were inaudible to the observer. He had started using headphones, by popular request, and there had since been fewer complaints of nightmares. Noises in the kitchen indicated that Eskimo and Squallid were preparing a snack. Edge and Viper were talking.

"You're back early," remarked Edge.

"Yeah, I know. There was a bomb scare, and the building was evacuated. Anonymous caller." Nevermore's face showed only honesty. Thank god for mobile phones, he thought.

"Eventful day, then?"

"Yeah. It's Eskimo's fault." Seeing Edge's expression, Nevermore decided to elaborate. "This guy beat him up. Fadanoid, that was his name."

Edge looked surprised. "Adrian Fadanoid? He was on the news, wasn't he? Works for Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson and Johnson. The ones that were having those financial troubles."

"If you say so. I only remembered the name."

"They made some bad decisions. Most notably in the Retrograth case. Brendan Retrograth killed twenty eight people, and was found standing over their corpses holding a blood-stained knife, shouting 'I just killed all these people.' After the Johnson firm tried to defend his case, their fortunes went down somewhat. They ended up getting money from somewhere or other, and made a fresh start. Reckon this has anything to do with their money problems?"

"I can't say I care. It's got nothing to do with me."

"Well, you've got a point," Edge had to admit.

I don't know what Eskimo's been up to," remarked Viper, "but Yud was typing like a demon for at least an hour after he got back. Must've been a good day."

Nevermore looked at him strangely. "Good for some," he muttered.

Jim remained lost to his headphones. He considered the day's events thoughtfully. It was rather worrying. The suggestion of employment. Yud's plotting. The doctor demanding that he... no, that hadn't happened at all, had it? He took the headphones off, to aid his mental state. Let's question Yud, he decided.

"So, then, Yud, what have you been up to today..?"

Jim's ominous tone sent Yud onto the defensive. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Less than nothing, in fact." Jim could tell he was lying. He was avoiding eye contact, sweating profusely, and had just chewed through his wristwatch.

After a moment it became clear that Jim wasn't saying anything more, and Yud breathed a sigh of relief. He decided it was time for action. "Psst. Edge."

Edge looked around warily. "What?"

"Well, are you going to ask about... you know?"

"Keep it down!" Edge hissed frantically. "Not while he's in the same room, I'm not!"

"Don't worry, he can't hear us. Look, he's put the headphones back on." It was true, Jim did seem to be dead to the world, to all intents and purposes. He was mouthing something about a dying DJ, which usually indicated a Jam-induced trance.

"Looks like you're right. Well, okay then. Um, Rabid?" Edge sounded suddenly polite and apprehensive.

Rabid Chocobo didn't seem to hear at first. She watched Meryl run down the corridor, and smirked as the polygonal woman triggered the concealed Claymore mine. It had been a bad day, and violence was the quickest and easiest solution. It was no substitute for the real thing, though. It was just as she was wondering who she could pick on that she realised somebody had mentioned her. "What?" she snapped, wheeling round.

"Um... ah heh heh... well, you see..."

"What? Out with it."

Edge looked around for moral support, but none was forthcoming. "Well," he continued, "it's about the organization. Of the comic. And making it. I... that is, we think that things could be improved... if... I were to... um, djmsjb."

Chocobo's expression swiftly changed from irritation to confusion, making a brief stop at incredulity along the way. "What was that? Speak up, you're not making sense."

"Do... Jim's... job." And, painfully, knowing that this could never be reversed, "Instead... of... Jim."

Chocobo glanced briefly at Jim, but he obviously hadn't heard anything. "Discontent amongst the lackeys?" she smirked. "How pathetic."

Yud chose this moment to speak up. "I support Edge in his request. He would do a much better job."

Chocobo looked at him with some surprise, and then sat for a moment looking thoughtful. "Well, I don't think I could allow you to do that."

Yud almost fell off his seat trying to hide his anger. "Why not?" His effort not to raise his voice at her was superhuman, as he knew his life depended on it. And his job.

"Well... if we were to switch people around, the overall style of the comics would be altered, and that would alienate our fan base." The excuse didn't sound particularly sincere, and it wasn't. The main reason for her decision was that the only other job Jim could really do was scriptwriting, and it would be a dark day when that happened. Some things were never meant to be drawn.

Nevermore, who had been quietly listening to the conversation so far, considered saying something, but then realised how much Jim would be annoyed if he did. Then he realised that he didn't really care, and said it anyway. "Well then, how about if Jim gets a job until the next script is finished?"

Chocobo considered this. "That sounds quite reasonable. I'll tell him tomorrow."

Yud grinned. The plan had failed, but Nevermore had done the work for him. And what was more, Jim would never realise that he was the one who had initiated it all. Life was good.

Jim thought dark thoughts. It's amazing what people will say in your presence when they think you can't hear them, he reflected. As he turned the sound back on, he thought about what he would do to Yud. He decided that psychological torture was his best option, and vowed to plant the headphones on Yud as he slept.

The kitchen was still and pitch black. The faint ticking of the clock's second hand could only be heard, followed by a loud ring, indicating that the time was exactly twelve midnight. The rest of the crew had gone to their bed and the computers stayed silent until the coming morning where upon they would all fire them up and take them through another process of technical persecution.

They were unaware that Jim was sitting in that kitchen, waiting for the right "moment". In his hand he nursed a glass of lukewarm milk, lest someone would find him and accuse him of something ridiculous, like insomnia or being murderously-inclined at the wrong time.

What was going through his mind could not prevent him from letting out a yawn. He kept his eyes closed for a while, resting them for what was coming ahead. When he opened them, he saw a moving figure in the darkness, heading towards where he was sitting.

"Chokie?"

"GAH!" she yelled, whirling around. She panted, looked about frantically and saw that it was only Jim. She let out a sigh of relief, and spoke in a whisper. "Don't scare me like that."

"You're lucky the whole place didn't wake up." They were silent for a while. "What are you doing up?"

She looked surprise, and began to stutter and sweat. "Oh, uh…I was, um, going to use the bathroom and I thought I heard someone in…here. Similar question, what are you doing here?"

He found no reason to lie, for in his lifetime, he discovered that telling the truth hurt. Usually, the other individual. "In exactly four minutes, I will sneak into Yud's room and deposit these headphones onto his ears and play hours and hours of recordings from Jam." He held up the tape player and the headphones as if to punctuate his point. "And for more hilarity (revenge, whatever), I will also hook this hidden camera up onto his dresser." He held that up too.

Chocobo stared at him in confusion, as if to mentally ask herself if this were all a really weird dream. "I'm going back to sleep." She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jim back at the kitchen table where he was sitting.

His watched beep, signifying that it was time.

Yud tossed and turned in his sleep. His expression was difficult to decipher. Confusion? Wonder? His eyes closed even tighter as he flailed his arms weakly.

Yud shook his head violently and made a quiet whining sound. He seemed to be at once distressed and relaxed.

Yud found himself standing in a street. Nothing seemed familiar, and he felt a sense of detachment, as if it had nothing to do with him. He watched himself walk distractedly along. People were looking at him. They were laughing. Some of them pointed. Unable to comprehend why this should be so, Yud continued to walk. The bus stop seemed familiar, and so he waited, and tried to ignore the stares. Seeing the bus, it felt like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years. He stumbled out into the road to greet it. But before it could hit him, he found himself in the hospital. The doctor was telling him something. He was saying that Yud was in a coma. Yud didn't feel like he was in a coma, but the doctor seemed quite sure. Yud wanted to leave now, but the doctor said no. First he needed samples. Yud didn't remember why it was necessary to give them five pints of his blood, but he was having difficulty remembering anything. Running out, he tried to attract the attention of the strangers. They hur ried on past, even the ones he recognized as old friends. He attempted to attract them by throwing himself off a high balcony, but as he felt the ground hitting his feet he realised he had only stepped off the pavement. And then his only friends were the stray dogs, leading him through alleyways to find choice scraps. And then even they were turning against him, exiling him from their society, despite his desperate pleas.

And then the meaning of Yud's expression became clear. He was terrified, a man in a living hell. He wanted to wake up but couldn't. He would remain trapped in this nightmare for a further eight hours.

Now he was talking to the doctor again. He had a pain in his chest, but the doctor wanted to play hide and seek. Yud was getting angry, but the doctor had vanished, and the desk was making a laughing sound. Outside again, Yud shouted at the people, asking them to help make it stop. But nobody understood, and they told him to take the first right and then the next left after the cinema. But Yud became confused, and instead went in a third direction, turning in upon himself until he was tired and wanted to die. But when he tried to suffocate himself with a car exhaust, the car's owner became very angry and kicked him about the street. And then the birds were making him upset with their singing, and so he told them to stop, and they stopped. But still a sound annoyed him, and he ran down corridors and through doors to escape it, but could find no sanctuary. And then he realised the sound was himself, whistling the same tune over and over and over again, like an alarm clock...

And then Yud found himself walking towards people who looked at him oddly, as if they were seeing not him but a fatigued and befuddled soul. Their stares angered him, and he shouted bad things at them. He with the glasses and blank expression Yud called a deceiving scoundrel. The one who he knew had once been part of an idea, but had hesitated, he shook and insulted. He despaired at she with the angry expression, and bellowed that this plan had gone wrong because of her. And then he found himself running, running out of the door and down the streets until he lost all his breath, and lay down in somebody's garden and went back to sleep.

Mornings had always been a bitch to Jim. All of them were the same. He would wake up, mutter to himself disjointedly about nothing in particular, then charge down the hallway in hopes of getting to the bathroom first before everyone else.

The pungent aroma of Loony's scrambled eggs and pancakes breakfast was in the air, and it awoke most of them. He had a rough time landing a job -- both out in society and in the offices -- so he spent most of his time cooking and preparing meals while trying his hardest to impress Rabid Chocobo with his skills. "Dammit, how long do these people sleep in?"

Black Arts Viper was the first to wake up. His blonde hair was a tangled mess on his head, his eyes clamped shut, and his walking unbalanced. "Urg," he said, which translated to "Give me caffeine."

Moments later, Jim emerged, fully dressed and somewhat semi-cultured. He wore his usual jeans, T-shirt, and thick glasses, along with his dour and insensitive expression. Only his hair was slightly out of place, but nobody seem to mind. Not bothering with morningly greetings, he headed straight for the refrigerator, took out a full gallon of milk, and chugged down half of it. Taking a seat next to Viper -- who was on the verge of sleeping sitting up -- he finally spoke to Loony. "Hey, eggs for breakfast again?"

"Yep. You know when Ms. Chocobo will finally wake up?" he asked, flipping a pancake with his spatula.

Loony zoned out for a while to himself, even though the pancakes were burning and he could smell his char. "Mmm…" he said to himself. "Chokie in the shower…"

"Uh, Loony…"

"NOTHING. Heh…I uh, said nothing!"

Viper, who was next to him, opened his eyes slightly to see just a little bit, seeing nothing but a big gray blur and some really bright light. He muttered to himself, clamping his eyes tight together again, praying that the caffeine would work its way through his system at a more prompt pace.

Nevermore, who slept on the couch due to a lack of space, came staggering in, rubbing his eyes and barely being able to stifle a yawn. "Nyup, nyup…Mornin' people."

Silence, except for the sizzling sound of Loony's scrambling eggs.

"Everyone awake yet?"

"You wish," Jim answered. Nevermore took a seat across from him, taking an old newspaper from the previous day and reading the business section.

"Hi, all."

They looked up. Chocobo strolled in, wearing her usual red shirt over the black T-shirt and a black skirt. Her hair was still wet from the shower. "Hi, Loony. That smells wonderful."

"Thank you," he answered, barely being able to hide a blush. Without thinking, he added, "After you taste my perfect meals, you'll come back begging for more. You'll follow me around everywhere, begging me to throw beaten eggs into your heated pan."

There was an odd and eerie silence, one that even frightened Jim. He cleared his throat, and Nevermore coughed, looking over his newspaper to see what might become of Loony.

Loony noticed the tension, finally realizing what he had just said. "Oh, damn."

"Riiight." Chocobo backed away before quickly taking a seat next to Nevermore.

Not long after, all of the household was eating their breakfast. Nevermore looked up from his meal, and noticed that one seat was missing. "Where's Yud?"

"I'll go get him," Chocobo volunteered, and left her seat. They ate in quiet for a while, wondering why the aroma of generally fried fat hadn't awaked the sleeping man's appetite. All, except for Jim, who was trying to keep a sly grin from spreading across his face, were confused.

Moments later, she came back to the kitchen, shaking her head sympathetically. "Poor guy. He's delirious. He's huddled up on the corner of his bed muttering something about comas and dogs and laughing furnitures."

"Maybe he ate something," Edge suggested, shoving a fork piled with his breakfast into his mouth.

"I don't know. Poor guy. His eyes look kinda pale and blank. You know, dilated or something." She shrugged and continued eating. Jim was on the verge of breaking down into a fit of hysterics. He quickly finished his meal and left the room, heading for the back door.

"Where's he going?" Nevermore asked.

"I don't know. Outside, I guess. Maybe he left to spy on the cute neighbor girl sunbathing," Eskimo said. They stared at him. "Well, he could be."

Outside, on the side of the house, Jim was soundlessly laughing on the grass, shaking like a wet puppy. Just that exact moment, he heard the sound of a car door slamming shut. Immediately stifling his laughter, he sat up and saw a skinny, anorexic like woman with a blue sleeveless turtleneck shirt cropped short to show her flat abdomen and ribs. Her hair was brown with red highlights, and she spoke with a middle-class British accent. "Excuse me, sir, but do you know a Nevermore who works at the Hedonist?"

"Yeah, he's inside," he answered pointing to the front door.

She didn't thank him, or even make eye contact with him. She simply sniffed a response and walked -- actually, she kind of strutted -- to the front door.

"Won't Nevermore be surprised."

A ghastly apparition appeared in the room. It was Yud. He seemed to be having some difficulty in walking normally. His perception of reality was still a little askew. After the hideous lethargy of the night, everything seemed now to be abnormally accelerated. He stared at the floor. "Edge, Chokie... about what I said... I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't mean any of it."

Edge stared at him. Chocobo told him, "See what I mean? He's delirious! He clearly doesn't know what he's saying."

Yud stared back at them for a very long time. Eventually, he spoke. "You mean... I... didn't it really happen?" He tried desperately to recall at which point the dream had become reality. The scene still seemed so vivid, but then how would he have ended up back in bed? And in any case, surely if he had really said that to Chocobo, he would already be dead. Yes, it could only have been part of the dream. He was safe.

Or was the dream even over? How else could he explain the sudden appearance of a toast rack on legs? Blinking a few times, he realised that it wasn't really a toast rack at all. It was a woman. By the look of her, she could have auditioned as the poster girl for the Eating Disorder Awareness Campaign. She had about as much flesh as a fast food meal. When she spoke, he was put in mind of a very snide icicle. "Where's Nevermore?" she said abruptly.

Nevermore froze at the mention of his name, and turned around slowly. He smiled in what he hoped was an enigmatic fashion. "Hello, Antimony. I didn't expect to see you here. Where I live. How did you find out where I live?"

"I looked at your records. They're in the filing cabinet in the back office. I have my ways."

All of the others were by now looking somewhat puzzled. Finally Chocobo spoke up. "Nevermore, do you know this person?"

"Actually, yes. Antimony Carter is a... um, a colleague of mine. She's a barmaid at the Hedonist." He turned back to the underweight Antimony. "What exactly is this about?"

"After you left last night, the building was checked and no danger was found. We opened again, but we couldn't contact you to summon you back. As a result, there was a violent brawl which cost us literally tens of dollars in repairs. The phone number you gave us was actually for the speaking clock in Morocco. You must have made a mistake." Somehow, the way she said the last word caused all of the males in the room to wince.

"Ah," said Nevermore, wondering what to say. "I can pay for the repairs, if that's what you want..."

"You already have. I'm here to tell you we need a real phone number."

Nevermore appeared calm, but the way he was drumming his fingers revealed to the observant that he was thinking fast. "We don't have a phone here. I have my mobile, but I have forgotten the number, and it is currently being repaired."

Antimony stared at him as if she was trying to read his soul. After an uncomfortable pause, she spoke a final sentence. "Bring me the number," she said, and turned to leave. With a superhuman effort, she was able to ignore Eskimo's sniggering.

"What are you laughing about!?" exclaimed Nevermore with some annoyance, after verifying that the barmaid had indeed left.

"Heh heh... I thought Antimony was a man's name," Eskimo replied.

Nevermore chose not to respond. "She's the girl I saw the other week," he sighed. "If I'd been close enough to get a proper look at her at the time, maybe I wouldn't have gotten into this mess. She's the most irritating woman I've ever met. And now she keeps bothering me! She must be some kind of sicko. If she gets hold of our phone number, it'll be the end for me."

Chocobo didn't exactly look sympathetic. "Well, now you know what it's like," she said, glancing at Loony. She then turned her attention to Yud. "How are you feeling now, Yud?"

Yud thought about this. His metabolism still seemed abnormally slow, and he was getting flashbacks every time he blinked. On the other hand, 'galling domineering harlot' was a bad thing to call anyone, and it was comforting to know that he had never really said it. "I'm feeling okay, thanks," he replied, with the careless abandon of one who doesn't know that he talks in his sleep.

Antimony swept past Jim, nearly pushing him off of the narrow sidewalk that led to his front door. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, more sarcasm in his voice than courtesy.

She sniffed, bringing her head up as if she had just been struck with an uppercut. "Excuse yourself, worm," she snapped, and continued to march away to her red sports car where she promptly sped off, leaving a blackish gray gas billowing in the wind.

He glared at her for a while, then decided to drop the matter. Stepping inside, he could see that they had all begun their mid-morning rituals of putting together at least half of the book. Chocobo was at her desk, checking and double checking yesterday's work. Jim took a seat at his own desk, and glanced at the script that Yud had written. He immediately set to work, scribbling out according to the script. It entailed a senior's center and a local pub, a bomb threat and a fat lawyer. Randomly making up a name from the top of his head for the pub, he finished the first few panels. "God, my life is easy."

Yud, whose desk is located from across Jim's, heard what the British man had said. Peculiarly, the British man was somewhat on cloud nine since he awoke.

"Is something bothering you, Yud?"

He spun around and saw that it was only Viper, who was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and white shirt, carrying a briefcase. "You look a little… aghast."

"Oh. Nothing," he curtly answered. Trying to forget the horrific images imprinted into his brain, he changed the subject. "Where are you off to? You look so fancy-schmancy."

"You moron!" the ex-mercenary yelled. "I've been working there for almost a month. Don't you ever pay attention?!"

"Oh…sorry. I, uh, forgot." Suddenly, the thought of amnesia entered his head. Was he losing his memory? Or is this all a suddenly slip of the mind?

Yud nodded, and Viper left. Jim had been watching the two during their short conversation. Specifically, he had been watching Yud, looking for unambiguous symptoms. "Heh heh. Denial. So far, so good," he muttered to himself while finishing page one.

They spent the rest of the work hours in silence, with a few phone calls from telemarketers. But after they let Eskimo answer it for a while, they no longer had unwanted calls. In fact, even the expected calls never got through.

"You guys can take a break now," Chocobo said. She blew off some eraser dust off of Jim's finished work -- completed with Edge's inking and Rufus' lettering -- and piled it all into the 'Out' box. Standing up, she pulled her arms behind her back, stretched, and gave a big yawn. Loony, who was sitting in the desk next to her, stared with eyes that were about to fall out of his head. "What the hell are you staring at?"

"Oh…nothing."

"Whatever." Turning to Jim, she asked, "When do you think Viper will be home?"

"Soon, I guess. Why?"

"He said that he'd play a few rounds of Tekken 3 and Darkstalkers before dinner."

As if on cue, the door slowly opened and Viper stepped in. "Hiya, everybody. Where's Chokie? I want to see if I can have this guy play games with us."

"I'm right…" she began, and suddenly trailed off as another man stepped in through the door. He, too, wore glasses, and had a thick head of black unruly hair and a blue T-shirt. Her mouth slacked opened, and her she could almost feel her jaw smack the floor.

"Chokie, this is Hal Emmerich, my coworker. We call him Otacon."

"Hi," he said, extending his hand. She blinked a few times, shaking her head as if to see if it were really true. He leaned over to Viper, whispering, "She doesn't look dangerous…"

"Just keep calm," Viper whispered back.

"Oh, hi," she replied, barely a whisper. She shook his hand. Yes, she was going to like this friend of Viper, she was.

"Welcome to O'Donnell's, may I take your order?" droned the adenoidal youth with forced cheerfulness.

"Actually, I'd like to know if you're taking on new employees." Jim avoided the other man's eyes. This was something he'd rather not be doing. However, he didn't know what the alternative was, and this was because he didn't want to think about it. "I'm seeking part-time work," he added, with visible self-disgust.

The youth shrugged. Unsurprisingly, his badge revealed his name to be 'My Name Is DARREN.' Without turning, he raised his voice. "Hey, Kim, are we taking on workers?"

From behind the fryers, obscured by a haze of vapourised fat, a female voice replied. "Dunno. I guess so."

"Is there some kind of form I have to fill in, or an interview or something?" Jim asked with some trepidation. Filling out lengthy forms in triplicate was not his idea of a fun way to spend a morning. Conversely, if there was an interview he might end up giving the wrong impression. Or worse, the right impression.

"What's your name?"

"James Burrows."

"Do you have any will of your own?"

"Well, not particularly."

"Then you're in. O'Donnell's needs people like you."

This surprised Jim. Obviously this Darren wasn't a very good judge of character. The only reason he'd come here was because he'd had some hope that they might refuse to employ him. However, clearly their standards were lower than he had expected. He could have seen this happening back in England, but not here. Oh well, a job was a job.

"Uh, if you come back here I'll give you your standard issue O'Donnell's apron and your standard issue O'Donnell's hat." Darren spoke in the manner of one who remembers a ceremony from long ago, but never expected to end up one day doing it all by himself. "O'Donnell's employees must remember the following at all times: Courtesy, Hygiene and Service With A Smile."

"I don't suppose you'd be familiar with the well-known phrase or saying 'One out of three ain't bad'?" ventured Jim, but Darren didn't seem to hear him.

"Those are the things we make," Darren continued, gesturing at the menu boards above. The boards were adorned with the hideous countenance of O'Donnell the jester, looking unnaturally happy for someone who hears the sound of ringing bells wherever he goes. Menu items included the O'Burger, the O'Double, and the O'Vast, along with less popular choices such as the O'Crab sandwich. "Kim tends to make the food, and I serve it. But now we can introduce a sort of rota system, I suppose."

Jim decided that something seemed slightly odd about the whole scenario. "Do you actually have a manager here?" he asked.

Darren looked pained. "Well, we used to, but that was before he left. It was nervous exhaustion. We never heard of him again. We thought they'd send someone new along, but it looks like they never found out. So we've been running the place as best we can ourselves."

"Why can't you contact the head office and ask for a new manager?"

"They'd just ask us why we haven't said anything about it for so long. And then we'd be out on our ears. Sad but true." Darren suddenly looked tragically like something out of the Simpsons. He only looked slightly less jaundiced, too. "Anyway, you can start work right away. There'll probably be a rush on around lunchtime."

Sure enough, after a long period of inactivity, during which Jim familiarised himself with the facilities and utilities, there was indeed a customer. "Welcome to O'Donnell's," said Jim in a drab monotone. "may I take your order? Chokie!?"

Chocobo was clearly just as startled as he was. "What the hell are you doing here!?" She paused for a moment. "I'm amazed you were able to find employment so quickly."

"Yeah, well maybe it's because I'm an ethnic minority. You wanted me to get a job, so I did so. Now tell me what you're doing here. As is the tradition."

She sighed. "I'm on my way to the school. It's about my temper again. I have to take this new psychological normality exam."

"Sounds like a multiple-choice one to me. It'll be easy. Anything else going on?"

"No, nothing. Well, there was that colleague Viper brought round. What was he called... Hal Emmerich, that was it. Stop smirking or I'll decapitate you."

"Otacon? I met him once before."

"Really? What do you know about him?" asked Chocobo, a little too enthusiastically. Like Jim, she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him before having to leave.

"Well, when I say met, I only spoke to him briefly. We had nothing in common. Well, actually we had everything in common, but you know how it is."

This seemed to annoy her. Still got the touch, he thought to himself. "Look, can I have an O'Burger? I need energy for the exam. It's an hour and a half long!"

"And it'll only take twenty five minutes to complete. Trust me. I know these things." Without turning, he raised his voice. "One O'Burger to go, Kim! No, Hal was a good enough guy, as far as I recall. It's just that I only spoke to him for a few minutes."

Chocobo could see that she wasn't going to get anything useful out of him, and changed the subject. "Who's Kim?"

"One of my two fellow workers. She does most of the cooking, since Darren was never trained in cooking, and Kim was never trained in training people. This place isn't actually run by anyone, it just gets regular deliveries courtesy of the head office."

"Interesting. Will you even get paid?"

"I think so. It seems we just divide the takings amongst ourselves at the end of the week. It strikes me as somewhat dishonest, but I'm not complaining." Jim had already considered the moral implications of the scenario, and had decided not to think about it any more. "I expect all this exam business," and not being able to talk to Otacon, he mentally added, "has you pretty heat up?"

"Well, yeah, quite."

"I expect you're quite angry. I expect you could lash out at any moment."

"I expect you're right.

"Oh, good. I have a video you might like to look at. It concerns Yud. Ah, it seems your burger is ready. Here you are..." - he handed her the rather pathetic item - "...try to enjoy it."

"I'd better be off, or I'll be late. How much is that?"

"If you're in a hurry, just give me a five. I'll give you the change when you've forgotten about it."

She would have argued the point, but didn't have time. "Here, take it," she sighed, throwing a tattered note at him.

"Remember to choose whatever answer a normal person would," he said as she turned to leave. "And above all, have a nice day." Already he was able to make this last phrase sound like "I hope you die of leprosy." I'm a natural at this, he thought.

She half-walked, half-jogged her way down to her school. Being the youngest member of the entire household meant that she couldn't drive, and she had too much pride to ask for a ride. Still, she had spent two whole weeks being a complete vegetable, so the walk could help her stretch her muscles a bit for her up-coming hockey tournament.

She secretly prayed that the test would only last twenty-minutes, as Jim had previously stated oh-so-confidently. Sure, throw something like a math or English exams at her and she could ace them. But a personality test? Her guts told her that the next hour or so was going to be all but hell.

They also told her to stop running, since they were painfully cramping up. "Dammit," she muttered sullenly, then slowly went into a walk. She was at the first intersection now, with only another block to trek. She had walked these streets since she was but a child, and knew everyone on it. There was cute little Curtis Hoette who loved to play with red toy trucks, old man Hawkens who ran a tailor shop, and giddy Ms. Phillips who owned the naughty women's lingerie shop.

And there was also Crazy Lady Dorris, who lived in a shack on the side of the road with her five-hundred mangy pet cats and her shotgun "Harold".

While waiting for the "Walk" light to flash, Chocobo remembered her first encounter with the old lady during a Girl Scout cookie sale when she was in third grade. It resulted in having her run away screaming like a crazy banshee as the old lady blasted her shotgun behind her. That day marked the end of Chocobo's carefree and optimistic life.

Shrugging off the memory, she dashed light-footedly across the street as the "Walk" signal flashed. Checking her watch, she noticed that she had only five more minutes until the exam started. Breaking into a sprint, she ignored the pangs in her stomach and raced down the sidewalk. Screw it, I wish Eskimo hadn't stolen my bike, she thought.

Normally, one could walk at a normal pace to the school in about ten minutes. Breaking the record - if there ever was one - she arrived in the classroom panting and wheezing at two minutes flat. Collapsing into a seat towards the back, she breathed in precious air and waited for the professor.

After receiving enough oxygen to get a clear vision, she could see that there were a few other kids with her. Tommy Blaken, a flabby boy with more chins that she could count on her fingers and toes, and Amelia Burnie, known to her classmates as a "blonde bombshell" and a "fashion queen". To Chocobo, she was a ditzy airhead. She didn't know why the blonde moron had to take the test, and outspokenly, she didn't care.

There was also Mike Luning, the loser of a football player from her Biology class who had been trying to get himself laid with her for two consecutive years, and Alice Morry, the prim and proper neat freak who worried about nothing but her hair, nails, teeth, and how straight the pink frilly piece of crap of a bow on her head is.

"OOOooohhh!!!" Amelia squeaked. "I broke a nail!"

"Uh huh eheh huh huh huh huh…" Tommy said, stopping in between chuckle to breath through his tiny nostrils.

"Oh, Christ," Chocobo muttered to herself. Standing up, she moved to the very back of the room and in the corner, where no one would recognize her or speak to her.

Just then, Mr. Morry, Alice's father, walked in and carried with him a small manila folder with papers in it, which Chocobo assumed to be their tests.

"Class," he started. They looked up obediently, except for Tommy, who couldn't lift up his head completely due to its weight. "Our school board have selected you special students for a reason. You all in here have 'special' characteristics that we would like to analyze, so that in the future, we could send it into to your place of employment where they could use it to further degrade and demoralize you since we had a tough time doing it in the first place. Understand?" He said it in a nonchalant and overall "friendly" voice. The group, being the airheaded morons that they were - except for Chocobo, who began to feel worried - nodded in unison.

"Daddy," Amelia whined, "do I have to do this? This is so, like, boooo-rrring. I mean, I would rather do my nails." She did a pouty face that made Chocobo want to grab her by the hair and smash a brick into her face.

"Yes, you do, dearest pumpkin," he answered, bending over to squeeze her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. "You see" - he turned to face the class again - "You all in here have special characteristics. Take Miss Chocobo here. She's a little…short tempered."

"Up yours, dick-bitch," she muttered under her breath.

"We're doing this so that we could understand you children more. That way, we can relate to you when others are in need of help. In fact, don't think of it as an exam. Think of it as a survey, so that we can understand you better." He opened the folder and took out a packet of papers, passing them to each one. "Please mark your name and date. Pencils down in one hour."

Chocobo moaned as she looked over her test. So, they wanna analyze me, huh. I'll show them. Grinning, she read the first question. It read:

"Sex:"

She gleefully filled in the empty space with her scribbly chicken-like scratches called handwriting. "No, thanks."

"Height:"

"Twenty feet."

"What do you look like?"

"Two legs, two arms. Some facial features. Teeth."

"Are you single?"

"I’m sure as hell not plural."

And the questions continued for five more pages. Looking around, she could see that some of the other kids were still struggling with the second question. Heh. Jim was right. This IS breezy.

Eskimo was bored. The phone hadn't rung in two hours. The last telemarketer had hung up rather hastily after he had proposed to her. All of the others were playing on the PlayStation with the new one, the one with the messy hair. Eskimo felt a little left out. Normally by now Yud would have sent him out with Squallid Snake, but not today. Yud wasn't acting normally, and Squallid had gone to sleep. Eskimo looked at Yud again. He was watching television. It looked like a video of the test card. He was desperately trying not to blink. Eskimo decided not to disturb him, but to go out by himself. It was probably what Yud would have wanted. He wrote a quick note to the others - "Gone to do things - E." - and put it into his pocket for safekeeping. Then he went into the kitchen, grabbed some supplies and left. Nobody seemed to notice.

The sky was unnaturally blue. He decided to go and trouble the old people again. However, his plans were dashed when he found that they were all sleeping to keep their energy up, and could not be woken. What else can I do? he wondered. Eventually he decided to see if he could get back into the secret tunnel he had dug the previous night. As he strolled through the streets, eating the biscuits he had taken from the kitchen, he pondered Yud's behaviour. He was quite sure that it was to do with Jim. It normally was. Yud would probably be fully recovered by the evening, if Eskimo was any judge when it came to abnormal mental states. And he was. Arriving at the Orange Hedonist, he saw that it looked a lot different by day. For one thing, the doors were barred with chains, planks and combination locks. This was not a nice area. The lamppost nearest to the club had now completely disappeared. He walked round the block to the suspicious looking dry cleaners on the corner. If he went through the "staff only " door, down the corridor and through the third door on the left into the toilets, the entrance to the tunnel would be concealed in the penultimate cubicle. That was the plan, anyway. In actual fact, he was stopped before he could go through the first door.

"Hold it right there. You don't look like an employee." A man with long hair and a shotgun was sitting in the chair behind the counter.

"Hello. I wasn't expecting anyone to be here," Eskimo replied, somewhat unnecessarily.

The man cornered Eskimo. "Are you the one that broke in last night? What did you see?"

Eskimo tried to remain calm. What would Yoda do? he wondered. "I sense much anger in you. You must use the Force for good, not for evil."

"What are you talking about? No... I don't want to know. Why were you around here last night? What were you doing?"

"Me and Squallid made a secret tunnel. We didn't see anything incriminating. Who are you?"

He stared at Eskimo suspiciously, He suspected that he was either pretending to be stupid, or he really was stupid. "You think I'm telling you my real name? You can call me Mechninja, like everyone else."

"Mechninja? Oh, you must be the one that's trying to extort the law firm."

Mechninja looked around frantically. "What the... who told you that!? You'd better not say anything!"

Eskimo grinned. "Nobody told me, I just worked it out myself. That man Fadanoid is after you."

Mechninja clearly didn't know whether to be annoyed or curious. "And what else can you tell me about myself?" he asked semi-sarcastically.

Eskimo looked grave. "Strong within you is the Force, but correctly use it you must."

Mechninja regarded Eskimo, trying to work out whether he was for real. "What exactly do you do?"

"Eskimo's task is to do interesting things. I am Eskimo."

Mechninja stared at him. Simple, and yet strangely perceptive, he thought. "How would you like to make some money? All you have to do is help me get what the Johnson firm owes me. You can have fifteen percent."

Eskimo's eyes lit up. Mechninja could swear he saw some kind of monetary symbols in them. "Okay! I have a plan. Now I must depart." Before Mechninja could protest, Eskimo had darted off.

Once outside, Eskimo carried on travelling the streets. He decided that he was hungry. He had finished his food supplies some time ago, and it was now lunchtime. The Force will guide me, he decided. His wanderings lead him to O'Donnell's. Once inside, he saw a familiar face.

"Welcome to O'Donnell's, may I take your order? You!?" exclaimed Jim, exasperated. "Am I fated to only serve people I know?"

"Good afternoon, Jim."

"I mean, this is beyond a joke. First Chocobo, then that idiot who asked me for money the other week, then someone I know from college who was here on holiday, would you believe it, and now it's you!"

"You know, I always wondered. Why aren't you at college anyway? Are they not fussy about attendance?"

"Well, I decided to take a year out. It's not normally done in the middle of a term, but for some reason they made an exception in my case."

"Did they say why?"

Jim considered this. "I believe his exact words were 'No, no, please, no, oh god, not my face, not my face.' Anyway, do you want food or not?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd like an O'Burger, with extra lettuce, another burger, another bit of bread in the middle, cheese, pickles, and a bit more of those sauces!"

Jim shot him a look of death. "You mean an O'Vast."

"Well, if you say so. And heat it up extra! I mean really, really hot." Eskimo grinned diabolically.

Jim sighed. Theirs not to reason why, he thought. Without turning, he raised his voice. "One O'Vast but very very hot!" Darren had gone out for some fresh air, as the grease particles played merry hell with his sinuses. Jim was getting used to taking the orders now. He looked at Eskimo, trying to see a way in, but the strange one was a blank screen. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Eventually, Jim tired of Eskimo's smile. "I hope you can pay for this food," he sullenly muttered.

"I have wealth. Fear not."

"You'd better have. I need money. Ah, it seems your burger is ready. You'd better be careful, it's hot."

Upon receiving the burger, Eskimo swiftly crammed it into his mouth without making any attempt to chew or show any manners. He then threw himself at the floor and rolled around in an alarming manner. "IT'S HOT! IT'S HOT! IT'S BURNING ME! CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

"Eskimo, you moron, I told you it was hot!" shouted Jim. Seeing Eskimo's anguish, and unwilling to be the one to take the blame for this, he grabbed for the phone and dialed the emergency services. No answer. Damn, it's 911 here! he remembered, and tried again with the correct number. This time it worked.

There was a clatter from behind the fryers, and a quiet expletive, and Kim ran out to the front. "What's happening!?" she asked.

"It's Eskimo, he's burnt himself... yes, ambulance please. O'Donnell's, it's near that place with the trees. You know, where the shops are. That coffee shop. Yes, by the book shop. Well, it's just down the road from there. Towards the... you can see a water tower, I think, as you go towards it. And then... look, you can't miss it. Hurry up, we've got an idiot here who's burnt himself!"

Kim had managed to force Eskimo to spit out the burger, and was now making him drink water. "How long will they be?"

"I don't know. Could be a while; I didn't give credit card details."

"You... oh, yeah. Heh heh. Of course, different in England, isn't it?"

"Yeah, back home you don't have to be poor to be unable to get proper medical care. Eskimo, you fool, are you okay?"

Eskimo smiled weakly. "I'll live." Without changing, his smile began to radiate menace. "Of course, you do realise I'm going to have to sue you."

She skipped merrily to the front door of her home, all the while humming a peculiar song. Yes, she thought, now I can have some free time to myself…

Luckily, she had arrived home before the storm struck up. The sky was suddenly dark and shadowy, and the sound of thunder was clear to even a deaf man's ear. There was a quick flash of lightening, and it began to pour.

Really pour. The rain beat down on her, rendering her semi-wet. Eager to retreat into her warm and cozy home, she went for her keys.

Tucking a hand into her shirt pocket, she found that it was empty. No keys. Dammit, don't tell me I left it in my other shirt. Frantically, her hands searched all of her other pockets. "Arrgh!!" she exclaimed, full of frustration. I knew I should've called the guys to fix this door bell.

Knocking lightly on the door, she waited for an answer. Inside, Viper and Otacon were busy with their forty-ninth round of Tekken 3, Yud had completely zoned out and had taped his eyelids open, and everyone else was fast asleep. Unaware of Otacon's presence, she kicked the door angrily. "Open up, it's me!"

"Hey," Viper said, turning to Otacon, "didja hear somethin'?"

"No." Using the time to his own advantage, he took an 1/8 of Jin's life gauge.

Tuning back to the game, his friend exclaimed, "No fair! I wasn't looking!"

Back outside, she was wracked with aggravation and she was a dripping mess. "Open up!" she yelled. Her voice was muffled by the crack of thunder and lightening and the sound of beating giant raindrops. "Screw it, you $@#^'in LOSERS!!!"

"I swear, I'm hearing something," Viper said again, turning around.

"Probably just the wind."

Being one who had a short fuse, she stood back, got some leg room, then kicked down the door.

"What the f-"

"YOU MORON!!!" she screamed, and pouncing on Viper and attacking his throat. "You $@#%'in mother ^$%#@'in IDIOT!!"

"Gack! Chokie, I thought I -- GACK!! -- you were -- UGH!! -- he was…"

"Hey, hey," Otacon said, running up and breaking them apart. "We didn't hear you. Honest. I was here m'self." He said it in an innocent and benevolent voice, the kind that had her drifting upon it for a few picoseconds.

Blushing slightly, she released her grip of his neck. "Okay." Standing up and dusting herself off, she added. "I'm gonna go shower and change." Taking a last good look and studying his features, she turned and left, leaving wet and soggy spots on the carpet as she walked.

Viper gasped for breath, clutching at his chest. "Thanks, Otacon."

The man grinned. "No problem." He looked up and towards the direction that she had just used to departed from their presence. "Mm…she's a cutie, awright. Kinda aggressive, but I like that." He made a weird grin on his face that made Viper squirm.

At that point, Jim came home, making a dramatic entrance and all. At the same second that he swung the door open, a crack of lightening struck behind him. He, too, was a dripping mess. Except he looked much worse than Chocobo since he had to walk home during the storm.

"Hi, Jim!" Viper said, as enthusiastically as ever. He stared back at him with cold eyes, his brows furrowed as a warning. "Didja meet Otacon yet?"

Otacon grinned weakly at him. "You're not to cheerful, huh."

"Nope. Is anyone using the shower?"

"Chokie is," Viper answered. "Oh, before I forget, this is Otacon. He's a coworker of mine."

"We've met," Jim answered, nodding towards his friend. "Chokie was talking quite a bit about you."

Otacon's eyes widened with hope and joy. "She…did?"

"Well, she spoke about three sentences with your name in it. I guess that counts," Jim replied, shrugging. As he did so, some of the water dripped from his clothes like a faucet and onto the floor. "By the way, if you see Eskimo, tell him to keep out of my way. I'm not particularly happy right now."

Otacon glanced at his watch, which read 6:48 PM. Looking up to Viper, he said, "Well, I'd best get going home now. See ya at work."

"Bye."

As he disappeared behind the door, Squallid was busy sneaking down the hallway. As the others were in the living room -- or, in Jim's case, the kitchen -- he was standing outside of Chocobo's bathroom door. Snickering, he opened with slowly, being careful of the fact that she had sensitive.

He saw her clothes lying on the toilet seat. Quickly, he snatched the bundle and quietly closed the door again. Then he dashed out into the living room, laughing.

"What the hell is so bloody funny?" Jim enquired. His features were sort of pale, since the house was somewhat cool and his clothes were drying off. "And who's stuff is that?"

"Can't talk," he replied. "Stealing." Before Jim or Viper could catch him, he made a leap out of the window, shattering it about on the floor of the living room.

"&%^$#!!" Viper cursed. "How's he gonna survive that fall?!"

"What'd he swipe anyway?" Loony asked. They turned around to see him standing at the entry-way of the room. He yawned, which meant that he had previously been napping.

Suddenly, there came screams of obscenities and curses from the bathroom. Chocobo came dashing out of the bathroom, dripping wet and only wearing a towel. "Which one of you $@#%'in little bastards took my clothes?!"

"Ah, the mystery is solved," Jim commented. "Now that you're out of the bathroom, may I use the shower?" Not really waiting for a response, he sprinted down the hallway and into the bathroom. Chocobo, who was too busy to notice, continued to curse.

"I just saw Squallid come running out of here with a bundle of stuff. Your clothes, maybe?" Viper suggested.

"Probably," she growled between her gritted teeth. Loony stared at her, feeling a wave of tingling emotions sweep over him. "TURN YOUR HEAD AWAY, PUNKASS!!!" she screamed at him. He fell over, and immediate ran out of the room. "Well, I'll get Squallid some other time. I'm gonna go get dressed."

"But wasn't Nevermore suppose to come back with our laundry from the Laundromat a while ago?"

Sighing loudly and holding back the temptation to kill all things living and inanimate, she struggled the words out of her mouth to get a coherent narrative. "I'll just borrow Jim's stuff for the time being. It's a little big, but it'll do."

At this point, most of the household were gathered around the living room, rubbing their sleepy eyes. "What happened?" Edge asked, barely being able to stifle a yawn.

"Squallid swiped my clothes, now I have to wear Jim's stuff. That, and he just came in and stole the shower while I was yelling and screaming."

He emerged from down the hallway, fully dressed with dry clothes and toweling his head off with a green bath towel. Not noticing the others, he spoke to Chocobo while drying his hair. "Dammit, Cho'. Next time clean the tub out after you shave. It's like a bloody rug in there." Looking up, he could see the others crowded around her, snickering and muffling their laughter.

She, on the other hand, was turning an interesting shade of purple.

Nevermore stood outside the Orange Hedonist, trying to shelter himself from the downpour. He wanted a drink, but more than that he wanted to avoid Antimony, and so he had to stay outside, with the lesser of the two evils dripping from his hair and soaking right through his clothes. In the distance, lightning struck. Nevermore considered himself that the nearest lamppost had disappeared, as it meant he was slightly less likely to be hit by lightning. So I can look forward to the onset of hypothermia instead, he thought gloomily. He wouldn't have put his coat in to wash at the Laundromat if he had realised he wouldn't have enough time to wait for it to finish. He'd had to leave the clothes there while he'd run across town to the club. At least he knew the clothes would still be there later. There was nothing in there that was worth stealing.

Someone was coming down the street towards him. It was time to do his job. "How old are you? Do you have a convincing fake ID?"

"Forget it, Nevermore. I'm not going in there. Anyway, you know how old I am."

Nevermore looked up in surprise. The figure silouhetted against the background of the slightly-less-dark street was Jim. He looked out of place here, and he clearly knew it. "Didn't think this was your scene, Jim," Nevermore smirked. He was damned if he was going to make this easy for him.

"Yes, very amusing, now could you stop? I need to talk to you. Did you hear about Eskimo?"

"That Fadanoid would've hurt him a lot more if it hadn't have been for me. The guy needs looking after."

Jim looked quietly scathing. "So you haven't heard, then. I was referring to his 'accident' at my workplace. The freak is going to sue me." He reached automatically for his inside pocket for a mint. He didn't offer one to Nevermore, and Nevermore didn't ask for one, as he knew from experience that they could be used to strip paint.

"So what's this got to do with me?" asked Nevermore, his eyes watering slightly from the fumes.

"I think you know. You remember how you persuaded Squallid that black was white, and he nearly got run over at that zebra crossing? Or how about the time you told me that Germany would have won World War Two if it hadn't been for the USA, and you got away with only minor bruises?"

"What are you getting at?" Nevermore knew full well what Jim was getting at, but wanted to hear him say it.

"Do I have to spell it out?" He sighed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? I want you to present our case in court. There, I said it. Happy now!?"

"Why me? It's not as if I'm the only one qualified, is it? In February, you persuaded that angry mob that Leonardo DiCaprio was guilty of high treason, and must be executed."

"That was easy. I knew what they wanted; all I needed to do was give them a reason to want it. If they'd been a calm and docile mob, I wouldn't have stood a chance."

Nevermore considered this for a few moments. "True," he conceded. "But I suppose if they'd been a docile mob, then you wouldn't have needed to persuade them to lynch someone else."

"Look, are you going to represent us or not?"

Nevermore wondered whether to hold out for Jim to offer to do absolutely anything in return. It didn't look like happening. Jim was quite well-versed in cliché. Nevermore decided to make the move himself. "Will you do something for me in return?" he asked.

"That depends what you want me to do, doesn't it?" Jim was always cautious in these situations.

"Not much. Could you please just go into the club, and try to persuade Antimony that I've emigrated? Actually, no, tell her I'm dead."

Jim was less than enthusiastic. "What? You want me to voluntarily talk to that skeletal, conceited... actually, that sounds quite reasonable. I'll be right back." So saying, he darted through the doors into the haze of smoke inside.

Nevermore wondered what could have caused this bizarre change in attitude. Then he glanced up the street and saw the answer. "Hello, Tifa," he said to it. "I didn't know you came here."

"Well, I was told that Jim was around here. I wanted to apologise to him about... well, to apologise to him about."

Nevermore wondered vaguely how she was able to walk around without falling over. "I suppose I'm supposed to send you in there," he sighed.

"Thanks!" She strolled into the club. Nevermore listened out for unusual sounds, but it was difficult to make anything out over the constant mindless beat of the music and the slightly less frantic drumming of the torrential downpour. It rains on all of us, regardless of social standing, he mused. Although it seems to rain a bit more on those who are making a career of standing out in the street. Thunder rolled. The storm promised to go on as long as it possibly could. Eskimo had been acting strangely lately. Nevermore wondered what he was trying to achieve. He would have to sort out the details of O'Donnell's' case at come stage. Ah, here was Tifa again. She looked angry. She started to stomp down the street, but turned back for a moment. "What kind of a name is Antimony, anyway!?"

"I don't know, Tifa," he replied rather pointedly, but the remark sailed over her head like Mir.

Chocobo rooted through Jim’s dresser, muttering curses from several different Oriental languages as she examined his insignificant and overall pygmy array of shirts and jeans. Her hair was beginning to dry, and if not given the proper care of blow-drying, it would curl out as if permed on cardboard towel rolls.

Dammit, she thought, how tall does this guy have to be?! Yes, it was a known fact that Jim was one of the tallest persons in the household, towering over Chocobo at a good one foot and something inches. Once, she and Nevermore had watched wide-eyed as he pick up Squallid by the ankles and calmly threatened to toss him out an opened window for eating his turkey and mayo sandwich.

Squallid. What gave him the idea that he could take my clothes like that. Of course, this would give her an excuse to feed to the FBI when they go searching for his body down some godforsaken river or an abandoned warehouse in the ghetto, so maybe it wasn’t all bad.

"What are you doing?"

She turned around to see Jim, who looked calm and collected, but was nevertheless confused to see her rummaging through his things and wearing a towel, her hair already beginning to swing out.

"Squallid took my stuff. Nevermore didn’t pick up the laundry."

"Okay. But…why my stuff?" he asked, bemused. "Why not Loony’s? He’s about your height."

She stared at him, not a hint of anger in her eyes, but moreover incredulity.

"Oh…yeah. That. Forget it." He scratched his neck, embarrassed. "That little bugger is sort of a pain, isn’t he."

"He’s more than a pain," – she closed that one drawer and moved one level down – "He’s a nut-fuckin’ bastard."

"You Americans are so foul-mouthed." He walked over to his bed and threw himself on it, crossing his arm over his eyes to shield them from the ceiling light. "But that’s what makes you amusing. Anyway, he’s outside right now passed out on the floor. Viper’s trying to revive him. I guess seeing you in a towel was a little overwhelming."

She muttered a curse. "Why does he still live here?"

"I dunno. I figure he could get a job elsewhere and stop taking up space around here. All he really does his lettering and gawking at you like a horny little schoolboy."

"Maybe I’ll fire him and get someone else on our staff to do his work. Then I’ll just pay one person less."

"Yippee. More oxygen for me," he remarked in a monotonous and sarcastic tone. Turning onto his side, he faced his back to her and curled up against the wall.

I tire of this conversation. "Don’t you have anything that isn’t so big?"

"My socks, I guess. Listen, dim the lights a little and try to shuffle around quietly. I’m in need of some sleep."

"Sleep? Now?" She turned to him, confused. "You didn’t even eat dinner yet. Are you okay?"

"How kind of you to enquire about my well-being. No, I’m not okay. Eskimo is going to sue me, Nevermore now taunts me, I had to duck under a table that smelled of human bile to avoid being seen by Tifa, and I had to speak to that Antimony bi – I mean, woman."

"Antimony? Why’d you have to talk to her?"

"Why don’t you ask Nevermore about it."

"Nah. I’ll let it surprise me." She picked up a pair of his dark blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of socks. "I"m gonna go dry my hair and get dressed. Then you can shower."

He muttered something, sort of like an affirmative or maybe even a curse. One thing that’s for sure was the fact that he was going to sleep like the damned.

Yud sat with Eskimo, watching Star Wars again. He wanted to watch James Bond, but worried that the accents mignt have a bad effect on him. He was back to normal in most respects, but had passed out on the floor in a foetal position an hour before, when Jim had used the word "Rothko" in a strange way. He had by now forgotten most of the details of the previous night, but if he tried he could still remember the feeling. He tried not to, though, as the unholy fusion of dark colour made him feel ill. Only one clear memory remained, and that was the one of shouting angry words at Jim, Edge and Chocobo. He was now being very quiet, almost to the point of reclusiveness, simply because he didn't want to say anything that might reveal what he had said in the dream. He wondered what had happened to some of the others. Jim had vanished, presumably to his room, and Nevermore was still nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he's fetching the laundry, Yud realised.

This was more or less the case. Nevermore had indeed gone back to the Laundromat, and had collected the now relatively clean items of clothing. He was now walking to Jim's workplace. Now seemed as good a time as any to start working on the case, and indeed, to decide whether it was worth doing anyway. He arrived at O'Donnell's shortly before its closing time. Inside, all was quiet. Kim was switching off the fryers in preparation for locking up. Nevermore decided to use the subtle approach. He directed his remark at the room in general. "Hi. How's business?"

"Terrible," groaned Darren, who was busy removing the inedible waste from the fryers and sealing it in regulation O'Donnell's secure waste drums. "Some idiot customer hurt themselves on a burger. Now they want to sue." Darren looked a sorry sight. "To think this tragedy could have been averted. It used to be O'Donnell's policy to display warning notices to remind people that cooked food can be hot. But it was detrimental to business, so they were scrapped."

"Now the corporation stands to lose thousands!" Kim chipped in. "Sorry we can't make you any food. We weren't expecting any more customers. News spreads fast."

Nevermore thought carefully. "Surely if the signs were removed because of company policy, the incident has nothing to do with you."

Darren didn't look up, but continued to scrape the burnt grease from the surface with a spatula. "Oh, yeah, in theory. But there's no way we'll be able to keep our jobs. For one thing, we're not running by official company policy, and they're going to notice that now. And anyway, the reputation of this branch will go down the fat disposal grinder. They'll shut it down. And then I'll have to go back to living with my parents!"

Nevermore stared at the poor youth. It was at once comical and tragic. Somehow it seemed more tragedy than comedy, though.

"And of course Kim will have to go back to her old job. This shouldn't be happening; it's no way for a respectable girl to make a living."

Nevermore stared through the mist of condensing cholesterol with incredulity. "You mean..!?"

"She was an air hostess. You think you've seen jet-lag, walk a mile in her shoes."

Nevermore sighed at the compelling tragedy of the small burger bar. "Do you know who'll be representing you in court?"

Kim spoke up. "Well, I've heard that the opposition will be represented by Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson and Johnson. I don't know how we can beat a big firm like that. We don't have any money to speak of. Jim - that's our other employee here - said he might be able to get us cheap representation if he was lucky."

"Comes to something when our last hope is a friend of a coworker who only joined today," sighed Darren. "You know the strange thing? That guy Eskimo, who's suing us, seemed to know Jim. Maybe he's trying to get revenge or something."

"No, I don't think so..." muttered Nevermore. He blinked and looked up again. "Um, sorry." I'm tired and I need a drink, he thought. The knowledge made him feel more alert. He thought carefully for a few moments. "Yes. Right, I know all I need. My name's Nevermore, and I will present your case in court. Can I have a drink?"

To say that Darren and Kim looked surprised would be to say that Guinard is a small island off the coast off Scotland. They did indeed look surprised. "I can't believe we just told you all that stuff," mumbled Darren. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't difficult. But I can't really stay and talk. I have to go and work out why I decided to take on the case."

"Do you think you can do it?" enquired Kim, in the voice of one who has seen enough small packets of peanuts to last several lifetimes.

"The alternative hadn't occurred to me," admitted Nevermore, as he turned to the door. "You just carry on as normal. Jim will be back to work tomorrow, if I have anything to do with it."

It was late, and Nevermore decided to take the bus back home, as there was a stop just outside O'Donnell's. He didn't have any money, but then he needed the practice. "Paid for your ticket?" asked the conductor, inevitably. Nevermore looked out of the window into the darkness outside. It was either night, or the windows had become particularly grimy. The conductor had still not gone away, and his expression made it clear that he meant Nevermore. "Where's your ticket?"

"I thought I didn't need one. It is late, after all."

"Makes no difference," barked the man, clearly no pushover. "Pay up."

"It's not that simple, is it? By paying, I enter into a contractual agreement with FastBus Incorporated; one which both parties must keep. A contract cannot be broken. The entire basis of the contract is destroyed if either side fails to meet demands. And this would throw the entire issue into confusion. If the contract is broken, how, in retrospect, can I ever have paid? I don't want this paradox to arise, and neither do you. Now, we both know that life is full of uncertainties, and it is impossible to tell whether the contract can be upheld until a certain point. This bus is a vehicle, all vehicles are fallible, and hence this bus is fallible. It could suffer an unscheduled breakdown at any time. If I were to pay, this would constitute fraud. Thus, logically I cannot pay you until you are able to prove beyond doubt that this bus will definitely reach the next stop."

Nevermore sat back confidently. The conductor was worried. He had never been trained for this situation. "You just... you can get off at the next stop," he muttered, and moved on.

I need more practice, Nevermore decided. It could wait, though. He carried on home.

It never ceased to amaze Nevermore how nobody ever seemed to acknowledge him when he got back at the end of the day. He was also surprised by those rare occasions when somebody saw fit to violently attack him as he walked through the door. "Nevermore, you damn bastard, where the hell have you been!?" yelled Chocobo. "You were supposed to bring the laundry back several hours ago!"

"Hey, I have clients to think of! I'm not that late."

She glowered. "Have you any idea of the hell I've been through?"

"Probably not," admitted Nevermore after the briefest of pauses, and went off to sit down, stopping only to throw the newly washed clothes in a heap in the corner.

Yud was currently playing Tekken with Eskimo. Eskimo was winning, and Yud was accusing him of using the Force. Viper and Edge had finally got round to boarding up the window, and were finishing off the task. Nevermore reasoned that this was probably his last chance to speak to Eskimo before he realised that they were opponents. "Yud, does the phrase 'Jessop Jessop Jessop Jessop Jessop' mean anything to you?"

As Yud fled the room in terror, Nevermore moved over and sat in his place. "Hello, Eskimo. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine, thanks!" Eskimo replied brightly.

"I understand you're seeking legal help."

"Not any more, thanks, I got what I need. Now I can carry on training Squallid."

"Training him? You're training him to steal things for you, aren't you?"

Eskimo looked hurt. "We prefer to refer to it as liberating material things in the just name of the Cause."

"I see." Perhaps they plan to steal something, Nevermore mused. He was pretty sure Eskimo had spoken to this Mechninja person at some point, but wasn't sure exactly when, or why. It was never easy to tell what Eskimo was thinking, and always difficult to make him tell. In any case, Jim had just appeared.

"Hello, Nevermore. Are you..?" He noticed Eskimo, and glared at him briefly before turning back to Nevermore. "Did you consider it?"

"I'll help you. I'm not sure why." Nevermore glanced at Eskimo, who had gone back to playing Tekken, and seemed oblivious to the conversation.

"Eskimo?" said Jim kindly. "As an employee of O'Donnell's, I have a duty to ensure the customer's wellbeing. However, since I am now off duty, your safety is not currently my responsibility. So watch out."

Nevermore continued to think about the mystery. What Eskimo is doing is not right, he decided. And I don't want Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, Johnson and Johnson to win this case. They don't deserve it. He glanced at Jim with a look of slight torment. And let it be understood that I'm not helping Jim. I'm just saving the workers at O'Donnell's. It is my duty.

"Mornin’ Loo’," Chocobo called out to Loony, who was once again doing his morningly ritual of cooking breakfast.

"H-hello, Miss Chocobo," he answered, his whole body wracked with shyness and nervousness. "Um, how are you this morning?"

"I’m good, thanks," she answered. Not exactly the best of English grammar, but what would anybody expect at nine in the morning.

"Oh, that’s nice." He looked up from his cooking and tried to focus on her eyes without having his own straying to parts where they shouldn’t be. "Um, what’s wrong with your hair?"

Instead of being in the usual style, she had pulled them back and made it into a very small pony tail barely even down to the nape of her neck. "Oh, um, I … thought I’d try something new."

There was a long and eerie silence. "You couldn’t fix it from last night, could you."

"No," she answered curtly.

He shrugged. I’d better change the subject. "I’ll have this omelet done in a few minutes. In the meantime, did you mail that finished book?"

Her mind stopped. Dropping her head into her hands, she muttered. "Oh, crap, no. I have to mail it today since the post office isn’t open tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks to Squallid offending and berating that mail lady, I don’t think she’ll drop by here for a while."

"Dammit," she muttered. "I don’t want to ride my bike two miles to the post office…"

"You don’t have a bike anymore, remember? Eskimo stole it."

"Reality continues to kick my ass." Grumbling, she got up from the kitchen table and walked out the back door, grabbing a big yellow envelope overstuffed with papers and overall the comic book contents.

"She’s sooo cute," Loony sighed. He could barely smell the fire as his omelet lit ablaze.

"Um, Loony…"

"Huh?"

Jim stood at the entrance to the kitchen, a bemused look in his eyes. "Loony…the food…"

"Wha – Aackth!! Put it out, put it out!!"

He watched, slightly amused, as Loony raced to grab the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. Shaking his head at the site, he sighed. "Where’s Cho’? She’s usually up by now."

"She went to the post office to mail the finished book. She’ll be here in probably a few hours. Yah! Back you!" He sprayed more foam from the extinguisher at the fire.

"Okay. I’m gonna go grab a bagel from the café." Just as he said that, the phone rang. Seeing that Loony was busy with the flames and no one else was present, he grudgingly picked it up and muttered a greeting. "What?"

"Hello, Ms. Chocobo?"

"Good lord, no. I’m James Burrows. Who’re you?"

"I’m from her school, St. Clare."

"Oh yeah. She told me to tell you that you’re a donkey punching moron and to go drown yourself in a septic tank."

"What?!"

"Oh wait…are you Mike Luning?"

"No! I’m her principle!"

Jim was undaunted. "What do you want?"

"I was calling to tell her the results on her personality test."

"Oh. In that case, let me get a pen." Instead of reaching for some writing tools, he was about to hang up on the shrill sounding school official.

"Actually, it’s quite confidential, and I won’t need you taking a message. I’ll call back some other time."

Confidential, eh. I smell some blackmail… he thought, grinning. "Alright then. I’ll tell her that."

The man on the other end was taken aback. "Wha? Aren’t you going to try to worm it out of me?"

"Why should I? You told me it was confidential."

"Bribes? Payolas? Anything?"

"Nope. Listen, sir, it’s none of my business, really. So, good day to you."

"No no no! That’s not how it is!"

It’s working. I can sense his confusion. Trying his best to sound perplexed, he asked. "Oh? Then how is it suppose to be?"

Jim held back a chuckle as Chocobo’s principle sighed in total frustration. "Oh, hell, I’m going to tell you anyway. She scored perfectly on her exam and we’re going to send her to a special school with her consent!" he screamed.

Bingo. "Okay, goodbye."

"No no, wait!!"

He hung up the phone, grinning all the way. So she’s a "gifted" child now, eh, he mused. Excellent. This actually could be the one thing that he could tease her about without the fear of his own death following shortly.

"Who was it?" Loony asked. He was using his spatula to scrape the burnt cinders off of the skillet.

"No one important."

Jim found himself alone in the work area, since Eskimo and Squallid had left to visit the Johnson firm, and Nevermore had gone to shadow them. Loony was currently cooking some more food, and Viper had agreed to go to the shops for supplies to replace those tainted by the miniature kitchen blaze.

Jim thought about his current situation. Eskimo was suing him, he hadn't had time to get any breakfast, he had to go to work in a few minutes, Tifa kept following him, Yud was almost certainly plotting his revenge, and there was nobody around to complain to about it. Jim sighed. I wonder what it would feel like to kill someone? he wondered. To take a human life? To destroy a soul? He stood suddenly up, and paced around the room. "I need to annoy someone with details of my problems, or I'll go insane..." he muttered.

As if on cue, the door opened. "Just caught the last post," said Rabid Chocobo, walking in from the coldish morning outside. "Hey, where is everybody?"

"Oh, here and there," said Jim, quietly. "There was a phone call for you. From your head."

She looked puzzled. "My head's been attached to my shoulders this whole time."

He stared back with quiet incomprehension for a moment, then shook his head. "Principal. Whatever. It was about the psycho exam thingo."

"Have the results come through? What did I get?"

Jim gazed at one of the posters on the wall, and leaned against a desk. "Nah, you wouldn't be interested."

She glared at him. "Tell me, Jim, or I'll..."

"Yes, all right, all right. Well, after a brief but amusing misunderstanding in which I told him that you'd said he should drown himself," - he surreptitiously watched her face for a reaction - "he told me."

"And..?" prompted Chocobo, once it became clear that the pause wasn't going to end.

He shifted his gaze from the side wall to the ceiling. "Well, let me put it this way. Would you say you have aspirations?"

"Only in the pollen season. What did he say!?"

Jim smirked. "You beat the system. They think you're a genius!"

She ignored his quiet sniggering. "Funny. Now what did he really say?"

"I'm not joking. They want you to go to a special school! For the gifted!"

"Really? If you're joking..."

"I'm not. Chokie is a genius. Let it be known."

"And they want me to... a school for the gifted? Wow."

"Yeah, I know. Hilarious, isn't it?" He noticed the look on her face, and stopped smiling. "Oh, come on now, you're not actually thinking of... you're not, are you?"

She stared into the middle distance. "Oh, I don't know... it's tempting..."

"But you can't... the only place they can mean is the Reggie Kray Academy! That's miles away! We'd have to..." He stopped abruptly, and shook his head. "No. No, I'm not getting involved. I have enough crises on my hands as it is. Let the others deal with it. I have to go to work. And then I have to help prepare our case. You just stay and bask in the glory." And so saying, he strolled out.

Chocobo sat down. Moments later, Viper walked in carrying two large plastic bags, with albumen slowly dripping from the left one. "What just happened?"

"What do you mean?" asked Chocobo. Deny everything, she decided.

Viper shrugged. "I just met Jim out in the street and he looked... well, he seemed a bit..." He searched for the right word. "Actually, he looked just like he always does," he admitted finally.

"Oh. I think something's broken in that bag."

"In what bag?" He looked down. "Oh, damn it! And on the carpet, too! Now someone'll have to clean it up."

"Did you get everything? Chips? Milk? Red meat? Glucose? Alcohol?"

"Mostly. Jim asked me not to buy any drink. He said Nevermore thinks more clearly when he's desperate."

"Breakfast's ready!" Loony shouted. "I know you'll all be hungry, so I made extra!" He walked in. Noticing the distinct lack of people in the room, his face fell. "Oh. By any chance, are you two both very, very hungry?"

Viper shook his head. "Ate while I was out."

"Likewise," said Chocobo.

"Well, what am I going to do with these omelets?" Loony didn't look pleased.

Viper considered this. "Well," he said, after some thought, "perhaps you could use them to mop up the spilled egg there in the corner."

Loony traipsed off again, carrying the omelets by his side. Chocobo sighed angrily. "This is pathetic. Nobody's here to do work! Where have they all gone?"

"Well, Eskimo and Squallid went to the legal company, Jim's gone to work, and I'm not sure where Yud, Nevermore or Edge have gone. Want me to round some of them up?"

"Good idea. I think I'll come too. That way we can cover more ground."

Loony appeared from nowhere. "I'll help you, Chokie!"

She shot him a look of death. "Correction. You'll help Viper."

"Let's go," said Viper, and the three left, leaving the house empty.

"First thing’s first," Viper said as Chocobo closed and locked the front door. "We have to think like them. Where would I be if I were Yud, Nevermore, and Edge?"

"Well…" Chocobo began, dropping the keys into pocket of her dark red shirt, "First, I’d go to the hospital and dish out thousands to have myself separated into three sentient different beings."

"That’s not what I meant," he snapped, annoyed.

She snickered, scratching the back of her neck. "I know, I know. Okay, we don’t have to worry as much about Nevermore, since it’s almost certain that he’ll be home for Tenchi on Cartoons Network." Pausing for a second, she added, "That guy’s addicted to those animated girls like my hamster’s addicted to crack."

"Say what?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"What about Yud and Edge?" Loony chimed in. "The both of them have been acting strange."

"Well, that’s what we’re going to do," said Viper. "This isn’t a big town, so we’ll split up. Chocobo, what street are you going to take?"

"I’ll take the one leading to the park and check out the comic stores and game shops there. Yuddy could be looking at one of those Bond movies. I think it’s called Ivan Street." She pointed in the direction left of her to punctuate her comment.

Loony was about to go with her, but declined after she glared at him. "Um, I’ll take Scott Avenue," he said. Her glare faded and she directed her attention to Viper, who nodded. Little did she know that Scott Avenue crossed into Ivan Street. With a little luck, he could "accidentally" catch up with her.

"Great. I’ll search the street leading to the mall and arcades. We’ll at Mackey’s Ice Cream parlor in five hours," Viper arranged. Looking down, he set the timer on his sports watch.

"So that would be…three o’ clock then?" Chocobo enquired, also setting the timer on her less-than-fancy watch.

They silently agreed and split up.

A few minutes into town, Chocobo’s mind began to muse. So they want to put me in a special school, she thought, remembering Jim’s words. Certainly sounds tempting. I wonder whether I should go. She arched her neck to look at the side of the building and saw that it was only a cat. She continued her thinking. I can finally get away from the losers in my class. I could actually get my masters degree and have letters after my name when I’m an adult. But then there was the thought of being teased and made fun of by the others. Those nerds have better be eye-catching, she thought glumly. I wonder if I can still turn back if I’ve already enrolled…

Stopping outside an electronics store, she looked in through the window. It wasn’t crowded, nor was it empty. It was just right for a person who was claustrophobic, which – in this case – was Chocobo. She opened the door and cringed mentally from the shrill ringing sound that emitted every time a customer set foot through the door.

The clerk was a pimply-skinned teenager with bad teeth and even worse eyes. The glasses he wore were thicker than hers and Jim’s combined. "Hello," he said in a monotonous voice. "How may I help you?"

"Um, have you seen an Asian man wearing a suit and tie come in here? He’s about yay tall and his eyes are kind of dilated and bloodshot."

The boy snorted. "Ma’am, we haven’t any customers today except for you and that dude over there with the white lab coat." He pointed a finger over to the rack in the corner marked "PlayStation Games : Clearance! 30% off!". She stepped over slightly and took a closer look. That man was none other than Otacon.

Oh, dammit. It’s Otacon. I can’t have him see me like this. My hair is a frickin’ mess. She mentally cursed some swearwords that would’ve made sailors turn in their grave, a few of which escaped her lips.

"Ma’am? Something the matter?"

"Oh. Nothing. Thanks." With that, she drew the hood of her coat farther over her head and walked quickly out the door. "Curse my luck. ^$%# curse my luck…"

Meanwhile, Loony was hurrying along on the streets in his usual happy-go-lucky and carefree manner. He entered almost every store and shop and asked for the name Edge and Yud, all of them shaking their head but most of them throwing him out violently.

"I guess they don’t like me in those AOV shops," he said to himself. The cold air bit at his nose and he wrapped his scarf up tighter. "Stupid weather. One day it’s hot and the next day it’s about to snow." As he quickened his pace, he did not see the bundled up moving figure in front of him. He slammed into the figure, sending the both of them down.

"Hey, watch out you old hag!" he yelled, rubbing his side. "Watch where’ your bloody going!"

"Who the hell are you calling an old hag?!"

"Chocobo?!! I mean, I’m sorry. It was all my fault! I swear! Heh … please?"

"Never mind," she snorted. She shoved him off of her and sat up. "What the hell are you doing here? You said you were taking Scott Avenue." She dusted the grime off of her coat and pulled up her hood.

"I was. It just crosses this street, that’s all," he answered, praying to god and back that she’d buy his excuse.

"Oh. I see." She could tell that he purposely set this up, but made no comment of it. "Forget it. Just…trail along and help me find those two."

"Okay!" he said, trying to best not to sound excited. The mere presence of her was overwhelming for the puberty-stricken boy. The walked together in silence, neither of them making even an eye contact. "So…a penny for your thoughts?"

She sighed, frustrated, and walked a few steps quicker. As she crossed a local tavern, a drunken man staggered out and slammed into her, though it felt like as if he flew. "Dammit, watch where you’re going!"

"Uuiepwr…" he muttered, looking up and grinning stupidly. Suddenly, he clutched at his shoulder and yelled something that sounded more mockingly than urgent. "Ow! My shoulder hurts ‘cause you bumped into me." Looking up, he grinned a semi-toothless grin at her. "How ‘bout buying me a drink?"

"Screw you." She backed off and began walking away, but he clung to her leg and ankle.

"Come on, lady. Just one frickin’ drink."

"No! Let go!" yelled Chocobo as she tried to pull her leg from his grasp. Drunken as he was, his grip was still strong and stubborn. "Loony, grab something and help me pry him off." By now, most of the passing crowed were stopping to watch the strange spectacle.

"Lady, please? Just one little itty bitty drink?" He let out a belch that made her cringe and shudder.

I really wish I’d brought my axe and brick. Frustrated, she lashed out with her other foot and punted his head like a football.

"Aaah!!" he screamed, falling back and claming his hands over the injured spot. "You kicked me, you little %#$$@!!"

"Loo’, run for it!" Chocobo yelled. The two took off at full speed down the street as the now-sober man screamed obscenities and nursed his injury.

The Johnson law firm was based in quite an impressive building. What it lacked in height, it made up in shininess. From the other end of the road, it looked rather like a bad lens flare effect. Closer to, it was just possible to squint at the sign at the top of the five-story construction. A man on a moving platform was working on the sign. The number of Johnsons in the firm tended to fluctuate regularly as a result of family feuds and arguments.

Nevermore stared up at the platform, shielding his eyes from the reflection. He had no idea how it was possible for a building to reflect more light than was available. The platform was the same as one a window cleaner might use when working on a skyscraper. Unfortunately, it seemed the controls must be on the platform itself. He would have to find another way in. Eskimo and Squallid had gone in a few minutes earlier, and he needed to catch up with them. The only apparent entrance was through the front door. Looks like I'll need my cat-like agility and cunning, Nevermore thought, and then wondered why.

The reception was like the inside of a subterranean cavern. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised that it wasn't in fact dark at all. It was just the effect of the sudden contrast from the brightness of the building's exterior. He wondered what to say to the receptionist, who was currently staring at him as if he was a mouse in her sandwich. "Can I help you?" she asked, in an unhelpful tone of voice.

Nevermore smiled amiably. "Hello, I'm looking for two colleagues of mine." Taking a gamble, he added, "I believe they're speaking to Mr. Fadanoid."

She glanced down at the reams of paper on her desk. "Nobody's with Mr. Fadanoid right now, Mr..?"

Damn! "Tsunovabich. Sorry to have bothered you." He turned to leave, but dived behind a small yucca plant when she stopped looking. Now he faced a dilemma. There were three doors leading out of the reception, not counting the main entrance, and after he decided which one to use he would then have to use it without being spotted. I need a miracle, he thought, and waited hopefully for a few moments, but clearly none was forthcoming. He was on his own.

The receptionist continued to study her munitions magazine. After a couple of minutes she became distracted by the sound of a flying yucca destroying the replica Dali on the left wall. She turned instinctively to look at it, and so failed to notice Nevermore quietly entering the opposite door. After studying the mess of soil and pressed wood pulp for a while, the receptionist returned to her reading, safe in the knowledge that it was someone else's problem.

Nevermore studied the doors in the corridor. Either the receptionist had been lying, or he had quite a search on his hands. Footsteps at the other end of the corridor signaled another presence. There was nowhere to hide, so Nevermore strode along purposefully. The other occupant of the corridor turned out to be a rather pitifully thin young lawyer.

"Hi there," smiled Nevermore.

"Oh...hi," she responded, surprised. "What can I do for you?"

Nevermore turned the charisma up to eleven. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm late for an appointment. Do you know where the client in the O'Donnell's case is?"

She thought for a moment. "Oh, I think I know the ones you mean. They're meeting in the Pol Pot Suite. That's up on the top floor. There's an elevator just around the corner."

"Thanks," said Nevermore, and continued down the corridor, trying to shake the idea that he'd seen her somewhere before.

The top floor was more plush than the ground floor. The front windows of the building lined this corridor, and he could see the worker's platform over to one side. A brief search revealed the Pol Pot Suite, and he wondered how he could eavesdrop on the proceedings without being noticed.

Inside the suite, Eskimo and Squallid were sitting opposite Adrian Fadanoid and Herbaceous Johnson, one of the senior partners of the firm. The Pol Pot Suite was the nicest room in the building. The carpet was so deep-pile that short people got lost in it, and the seats and cushions were lined with the finest chinchilla hide. Oddly, a painting on the back wall looked rather like a portrait of Mechninja.

Herb Johnson leaned forward in his seat. He was a middle-aged man with startling hair, which looked like it had been carved out of marble. He wore a suit and tie, as did Fadanoid. The other two were dressed in their usual rags. "Now, we need to discuss the circumstances which lead to this lawsuit, Mr. Eskimo," said Johnson. "Clearly you have been through a lot of physical and emotional trauma..."

"No, I'm feeling okay," said Eskimo brightly, "but thanks for your concern."

There was a very awkward silence.

"Oh, sorry!" Eskimo said eventually. "I got confused. No, I don't think I'll ever recover from the trauma, actually."

"That's better," muttered Fadanoid.

"So, if you could just tell us in your own words what happened..."

"Did you just hear..?" began Fadanoid, but cut himself off. He'd thought for a moment that he'd heard the quiet swearing of somebody realising they were stuck in the air vent, but that was so unlikely as to be practically impossible, so he kept quiet about it.

"Well, I went into O'Donnell's, the fast food store, and bought an O'Burger burger from said fast food store. When I bit into said burger from said fast food store, I was burned by the unprecedented levels of thermal energy therein. Upon which the aforementioned trauma you mentioned occurred. The staff were kind enough to call me an ambulance."

"So they added insult to injury!" said Squallid.

Eskimo glanced at him distractedly. "No, they summoned an ambulance, they didn't actually tell me I was an ambulance. However, their failure to warn me of the possibility that I might injure myself on their food was surely the deciding factor in this incident."

"Who's in the painting?" asked Squallid.

Johnson looked annoyed, but answered him. "That's Bock Johnson. He founded this firm in 1837. Back then it was just an illegal gambling den, but we owe our massive success to him."

"Looks familiar," said Eskimo.

"No, you're imagining that," Johnson said quickly. "Nobody else looks like that."

"Nobody we'd care to acknowledge, anyway," added Fadanoid, and cringed from Johnson's stare.

"Enough time-wasting. We need to discuss fees. In a case like this, we would expect a percentage of the money you recieve..."

"Fine by me," said Eskimo. "Take as much as you want." It's not as if we can win the case, he thought to himself.

"We can come into the building any time, can't we?" asked Squallid from the depths of his chair. "To discuss any complications or issues."

"I suppose so, yes," mumbled Johnson.

Eskimo clapped his hands together. "Okay, then, Herb - can I call you Herb?"

"No."

"It looks like we have a deal, have we not?"

"Yes, I think we do." Johnson held out his hand.

Eskimo stared at it. "Better not, you don't know where it's been."

In the silence that opened up in the conversation without warning, it became possible to hear a quiet clanking noise. Nevermore was attempting to move, but was finding the air vent smaller than he had anticipated. Peering through the grille, he was alarmed to see the room's occupants looking in his direction.

"Does it usually make that noise?" Eskimo wondered aloud.

"No," said Fadanoid, looking worried. He got up and walked carefully towards the noise, which became slightly more rapid in response.

Nevermore felt backwards with his foot. If he could hook it around the opening into the corridor, he might be able to escape. He twisted his torso round slightly. If I get out of this in one piece, I'm going to have a drink, he decided. Suddenly, his foot found freedom. He caught a final glimpse of Adrian Fadanoid pulling at the grille, with the other three standing behind him, and then rapidly launched himself into the corridor.

Hauling himself to his feet, he staggered about a bit, and tried to get some feeling back in his limbs. He then came to the unfortunate realisation that the elevator was currently going down to the ground floor, and from the sounds he could hear, the occupants of the Pol Pot Suite were about to come and search the corridor.

Squallid Snake grabbed the door handle and struggled with it. "I can't open it! Someone's barred the door!

"No, it just sticks a bit on weekdays..." Johnson pushed at the door, and it eventually opened. Looking out into the corridor, he saw something that surprised him. There was nobody there. "Well, I don't see anybody. Maybe we should have the air conditioning seen to."

The other three came into the corridor, and looked around suspiciously. "That's strange," admitted Eskimo.

"Strange things seem to happen where you're concerned," Fadanoid hissed at him.

"Anyway," continued Johnson, "what's the point of using the air conditioning when we have a window open?"

"I'll go and shut it, sir," mumbled Fadanoid sycophantically, and shuffled over to do so. Had he been paying more attention, he might have noticed the panicked expression on Nevermore's face as he realised he wouldn't be able to get back into the building.

Nevermore was holding onto the bottom of the worker's platform exactly as if his life depended on it. Five floors isn't all that many, but five absences where floors should be can seem like quite a lot indeed. He considered the two options available to him, and decided he only liked one of them. "Up" it is, then.

Painfully aware of the possibility of becoming just another nasty thing on the pavement for people to try not to step in, he climbed up over the side of the platform. Wondering what to say to the other man, he settled for "Could you please take me to the ground floor?"

Yud was in his usual "secret" place. It was a place where nobody usually paid attention to and never really cared to either. He had stumbled upon it in a hide and seek game with Loony and Edge. He decided that it wad definitely secret since they never found for the next three days that followed it.

The location of this hiding spot was on the roof of the house. Yud had a few scrapes and cuts on his arm from climbing the tree to get there, since he thought that climbing out the window would be too obvious, even though no one was home. Still, after that "incident", he couldn’t afford getting careless.

Usually, he’d retreat to this hiding spot to think to brood. But today was different.

Today was revenge.

So it was Jim who gave me those nightmares, he thought glumly. Jim. Dammit, why can’t he be normal?! It was a well-known fact that Jim – although he may not look it – had the most sharpest of minds. It was close, if not impossible, to torture him mentally.

But physically was another matter.

Yud’s mind began to briefly drive itself schizophrenic. He wondered if Jim had planned upon this too. Oooh. I’ll get him good…somehow.

First thing’s first. He had to find something that Jim was afraid of. He’d seen the man get insecure and overly suspicious around attractive females, but that was just paranoia, something that plagued Jim every time something was out of place.

Relatives. All of Jim’s relatives were over in Britain, and it would be near to impossible of getting any of them over.

This is harder than I thought. No ex’s, no cherished material possessions, no beloved pets. I can try ransom. Or blackmail. But what?! What, god dammit?!

Finally, a thought dawned onto him. Jim’s sketchbook! It was something that he drew in everyday and kept most of his daily writing and cartoons. Grinning, Yud sat up and immediately began his descend down the tree and soon into Jim’s room.

Loony and Chocobo rested for a few moments in the lee of a lamp post. The wind blew litter and leaves either side of them at frightening speeds. This narrow street turned the breeze of elsewhere into a gale between the tall buildings. Loony shivered, and stared angrily at the ground. "It's disgusting that they let people like that walk the streets and harass people."

Chocobo thought about this. "Well, I didn't exactly see you running to help."

"Oh, be fair. I'd have helped him if you'd got really violent. He didn't deserve it, though, he deserved to suffer." He nudged a can with his feet, and it was instantly launched along the street, carried by the wind. "What a worthless person. Crawling around pathetically, only caring where the next drink's coming from..."

"Where did you say Nevermore had gone again, Loony?"

He blinked a few times. "I... I don't think I did. Did I say where he went?" Realising this wasn't a particularly good answer, he tentatively speculated, "Maybe he's going to meet Jim about the court case?"

"Right," she agreed. "I think we should find them. They might be able to lead us to the others. At least they know what they're doing most of the time."

She set off down the street, and Loony followed, wondering whether he had just been insulted. He quickly found his progress impeded by the weather. The wind was slowing him down, and he was having difficulty remaining upright. He shouted to Rabid Chocobo, who was making better progress, but she didn't seem to hear. It's like a bad dream, he thought. In fact, it's exactly like a bad dream, except this time the physical manifestation of my own anxieties isn't here as well.

As Chocobo rounded the corner, the loud roaring in her ears stopped, and she was able to move normally again without fear of being swept away on a current of cold air and old pizza boxes. Looking around, she saw that Loony wasn't present. He can catch up later, she decided. O'Donnell's was already visible in the distance, identifiable by the symbolic hideous grinning jester head, atop a pole. It had once been an advertisement for the store's drive-through facilities, but those had been discontinued long ago, when the speaker unit had disintegrated due to metal fatigue.

On entering O'Donnell's, she realised that Nevermore was there already. He was speaking to Jim and the other two. "...certainly seems to know what he's doing. I've done a bit of detective work myself, and it looks like the actual case isn't his main interest. You see, he's been... oh, we have company. Hello, Miss Choco."

He was being polite about it, but her arrival had obviously been the reason he'd stopped talking. The others behind the counter radiated innocence, and it didn't look like they were about to volunteer any information either. "You don't have to stop just because I'm here," she said, knowing the answer anyway.

"Better not," mumbled Jim. "Walls have ears, and all that."

"Tittle-tattle lost the battle," added Kim.

"Faint heart never won lawsuit," Darren chipped in, and then fell silent again.

"Yes, yes, enough of that. It's got nothing to do with me." Chocobo walked over to Nevermore and Jim. "I'm just here to ask if you know where all the others are. There's nobody doing any work. No work means no money!"

"I'll help," said Jim hurriedly, upon hearing the mention of money. "Eskimo and Squallid Snake are still at the law firm."

"Viper and Loony are with me," Chocobo added, while Jim paused to think.

"Edge and Yud are nowhere to be seen," concluded Nevermore.

Jim leaned on the counter. "Well, Yud's probably up to no good. Don't know about Edge. Anyway, if Loony and Viper are with you, then why aren't they with you?"

"Well, they got a bit delayed..." She became more annoyed. "Damn, now I've probably lost those two as well. Oh, I can't be bothered now. Just get me a burger, will you?"

"Oh, no. No way." Jim shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of his face. "We're not doing anything risky until our court case is finished."

"And when's that?"

Nevermore took the rôle of legal advisor again. "It's tomorrow, which means we've got next to no time to finish preparing. Apparently there's been a dearth of lawsuits lately, as it was Friday the thirteenth last week. That means that any petty accidents, like people tripping over or parking their car badly, can be dismissed as an act of god. Consequently, the number of lawsuits has gone down by 90%. We're out of time."

"This country," muttered Jim, adding a few other words too quietly for anyone to hear.

The wind was winning. Loony was sure of this, since he just recently saw a cat fly by, and cats never usually flew. He decided to duck into a small shop and pray that the wind would die down.

The place which he had chosen to take refuge in was a comic book store. Inside were a few teenage boys gawking at a Fathom book and some children looking at Star Wars merchandise. The man who worked at the counter had glasses and seemed to have forced himself into a black Southpark T-shirt. He reminded Loony of the comic book guy in "The Simpsons".

"Hey, you Loony?" came a familiar voice. He turned around slowly to see Otacon, who was holding a few issues of Tomb Raider. "You know Rabid Chocobo, right?"

"Um…yeah," Loony answered, rather suspicious. "Do I know you?"

"I came over and played Viper a few rounds of Tekken. I think I passed you in the kitchen."

"Oh…yeah. ……you."

"Uh, if it’s not a problem, could I ask you something?" Otacon scratched the back of his neck nervously. "…but you have to promise not to tell."

"Huh." Loony crossed his arms and grinned smugly. "And what’s in it for me?"

"I won’t drop a nuke on you."

"Okay," he answered rather quickly. He had forgotten about what a genius Otacon was. "So what you want?"

"Can you find out for me…if Chokie likes me?" he asked timidly.

Loony’s mind immediately froze up. Not only was Otacon a genius; he was a rival. Loony had to play it carefully around him. One inaccurate move and the object of his lust and wantonness was forever gone. He decided upon one alternative: "Nope."

"Huh?" Otacon said, disbelieving what he’d heard. "But…how’d you know without asking?!"

"I just do. She told me." He mentally grinned at Otacon’s internal fretting. The man was nearly in tears.

"Okay. Thanks," he muttered, and marched out the door. Loony smiled and followed him, now that the weather had calmed down somewhat.

"Hey, Loony! There you are! I found Jim. What about you?" she asked. Loony looked over at Jim, who was standing next to her and trying to restrain his shivering.

"Oh. Hi, Chocobo. Hey, um, how about you come over here?" he asked nervously, pulling on her arm.

"What? Where are you taking me? Let go!" she said firmly, pulling her arm away. Her loud toned caused Otacon to turn around in his walk. Half of him wanted to go over and speak to her, while the other half wanted to run away and weep like a bitter child.

Oh gods, it’s Cho’. She probably doesn’t want to see me… he thought, and pulled the hood of his jacket over his head.

She saw him also. Oh gods. It’s him again. I can’t let him see me like this, she thought, and likewise pulled the hood of her coat over her head.

Jim broke the silence. "Can we go home now?"

"Uh, we told Viper that we’d meet him at the ice-cream place. But I hope he has enough common sense to go back home."

"That’s what I thought. That place is the windiest part in town."

Chocobo pulled a strand of straying hair behind her ear. She didn’t feel like talking anymore. Most of the day had been wasted looking for people, Edge and Yud still were no where to be found, and twice she had met Otacon and couldn’t speak to him. Also, they had double work to do since no one was working on anything for several hours. She muttered some curses in a foreign tongue.

"What’s the matter?" Jim asked.

"Nothing. What makes you think something is wrong?"

"Well, you’ve been acting strange lately."

She stayed silent. Firstly, she didn’t want Jim involved in her love life since that only meant trouble. That lesson was painfully learnt with Reno. Secondly, well…he just wouldn’t understand. "You’re imagining things."

The shelter of the comic book headquarters was not unwelcome. The window had been patched up almost as good as new, so no air was getting in from outside. In fact, Jim fancied he could feel the gradual onset of asphyxia, but it was probably just his imagination. He was trying to make sure he'd have his details right in court the day after, but he couldn't concentrate. Why does life always have to be so complicated? Chocobo was certainly keeping quiet about whatever was bothering her. This was a shame, as tormenting her potential suitors was one of the few remaining joys in his life. He enjoyed it because it was an attack against all who are ruled only by the chemicals in their bloodstream, because it was a way of exerting power over others, and because it was just fun. Semaphore, he thought, for no particular reason. They communicate using semaphore. This brought on a sudden vision of two businessmen waving flags at one another from a few paces away. The idea amused him, and he d decided to draw it.

A sudden drop in temperature indicated that the door had been opened. "It's freezing out there!" announced Viper, walking stiffly in. He seemed to be having difficulty moving his joints. "Why were none of you at the ice cream parlour?" Then, after a moment, "I just answered my own question, didn't I?"

"Sure did," said Chocobo, without looking up. She was browsing through the script Yud had been working on. It wasn't a pretty sight. His style seemed to have changed somewhat. "What kept you, anyway?"

"Well, I was hungry, and it seemed a shame to go all that way and not..." Viper trailed off.

"You had ice cream!?" Chocobo stared at him incredulously. "What are you, crazy!?"

"Well, what else does one do in an ice cream parlour, may I ask?"

Rabid Chocobo let the matter drop. She returned to the scripts, while Viper sat down and waited to thaw out. How had Yud changed? She glanced across to where he sat, watching Live and Let Die. Seemed pretty normal for Yud. Perhaps this was just a phase. Or maybe Jim had written this to try and get Yud into trouble. It seemed more like something he might write.

"Has anybody seen my sketchpad?" Jim was standing at the door to the bedrooms. His voice was calm on the surface, but had frantic undercurrents. He was met with a few mumbles of "no," "not me," and other words to that effect.

Jim went and sat down. This has to be Yud's doing, he thought. I must keep calm at all times. If he thinks I'm worried, he'll have won. Over in the corner, Yud glanced cautiously round, but quickly returned to his video. Jim decided to keep quiet for now. There was still a chance that he might have mislaid the book, in which case asking Yud about it would seem strange. However, he resolved to get even with Yud if it turned out that he had indeed escalated the battle.

"Jim, would you mind taking a look at this?" asked Chocobo, waving Yud's latest script. She sounded puzzled.

Jim read through the text, wincing slightly at various points. "That's series two, episode four, if I'm not mistaken. Gah, it somehow seems so much worse with the Yud touch, though!"

Chocobo was unfazed. "It's not that bad, it's just weird."

Jim stared solemnly at her. "No, believe me, Chokie, it is that bad. In fact, Yud's managed to bring back the full horror of it again. Incredible." He blinked hard, as if trying to erase a vivid memory.

"Well, if you say so. We couldn't publish that, anyway. Well, not through the normal channels. Look, is Yud going to start writing normally again?"

Jim pondered. "Oh, very soon, if I'm any judge of the human psyche. Which I'm not, but still..."

"Anyone hungry?" interrupted Loony.

There was a chorus of affirmative-sounding noises. Loony retreated to the kitchen. It was a good space to think in. He had a lot to think about. Foremost in his mind was the problem of how to put a stop to Chocobo's interest in Otacon. The ideal solution would be to figure out a way of replacing Otacon with himself in her mind, but he would happily settle for merely removing Otacon from the situation. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite as good at ideas as he was at target setting. Perhaps I can trick Jim into warning Otacon off, he thought. If I'm really lucky, he won't actually kill me, his more pessimistic side added.

"Hey, Jim," said Nevermore, in the other room. "Come over here for a minute."

Jim, who had only just sat down, sighed and got up again. He walked over to Nevermore's desk, where he was hunched over all sorts of legal documents. They were official safety regulations, although a bizarre proportion of them seemed to be related to the correct handling and storage of sesame seeds.

"I'm working on the defense," said Nevermore, somewhat unnecessarily.

"How's it going?"

"Well, as I said, our main concern isn't the main lawsuit. That should be easy enough. The problem is figuring out a way to stop O'Donnell's from firing Darren and Kim. The place isn't being run properly, and the corporation won't hesitate to close that store if they consider it a liability."

"So how are we going to do it?"

"That's the thing," Nevermore groaned, "I have absolutely no idea. It's driving me insane."

"Finally," Jim said under his breath. Out loud, he added "Maybe you need a rest. We're making no progress, and you'll be no good in court if you're too tired."

"But I need to work it out." Nevermore's words went against everything his tone, expression and posture stood for.

Jim remained adamant. "Just leave it for now. You're more likely to think of something if you don't try to." He wondered vaguely whether there was any possibility of this actually being true. "I'll think about it too. It sounds like lateral thinking. I'm good at that."

Nevermore yawned. "You're not good at it, it's just that you've heard them all before."

"Maybe. We'll find out, won't we?" Jim walked over to his seat again, but was buttonholed by Chocobo again.

"This one could actually be quite good," she said. "This one about the man who advises people in their everyday lives..."

Jim glanced over the item in question. "No, it just wouldn't feel right, knowing where it came from. It's dishonest, lifting material like that."

Chocobo laughed. "Everything you do steals from other sources!"

"That's different. I have influences. This is just the same as the original." He raised his voice. "Stealing other people's work is pathetic." The way Yud flinched did not escape him. I'll deal with you later, he thought, glaring, and then sat down to let his thoughts organise themselves.

Loony listened to Jim and Nevermore’s conversation while he cooked up a semi-edible meal. His main goal was to win Chocobo for himself, even though it was evident that she avoided his presence like the plague. Still, I have to try. I have to keep my honor of being a teenage male. He then obscurely wondered why he thought that last part.

He heard the clicking of the heels of her Doc Martens on the tiles of the kitchen floor, moving rather quickly to the refrigerator. Turning around slowly, he saw that she was still buried in Yud’s script, an disconcerted look on her face. "Hiya, Chokie," he said happily.

"What?" she snapped, looking up from the book. She opened the door of the fridge and fetched out a can of Mountain Dew, the closed the door by bumping her foot against it.

"You might wanna save room for my dinner. I made it especially for you," he grinned.

"Praise be the Lord," she muttered, popping the tab off of the can and taking a quick swig. "Whatcha make?"

"Spaghetti and meat balls, a lá Loony! Yummers!" His smile faded as she continued to stare at him with uninterested eyes. For some obscure reason, she reminded of Jane Lane from Daria.

Chocobo began to get bored, and took another chug from her Mountain Dew. "I’m going back to the work area. Things are falling behind schedule and I need to yell at some of them. Especially Yud. He’s been acting …strange." There was a long pause. "I’ve probably told you too much already. Besides, you don’t even work."

I think she just insulted me again, he thought. I should have asked her to go out with me. Dammit, I let it slipped AGAIN!! And he continued to mentally torture himself.

Maybe I SHOULD kick him out, she thought. Without a "good-bye" she turned and left the kitchen, one hand holding the script and the other one the nearly empty can of Dew. Shit, I told Viper to buy Dr. Pepper. He knows how hyper this stuff gets me. Her mind stayed blank for a while. Well, no sleep for me tonight.

She took a seat at her desk, and finished fixing the last of the editing. "Finished," she said, throwing down her red pen. "Let’s hope I’ll never have to see something like…this again."

"That bad huh," she heard Nevermore say from amidst his mountains of paperwork and legal documents.

Huh. Even in his misery he never fails to keep his biting humor. "Well, what would you know about rubbish work?"

"You’d be amazed."

She chuckled, something that only Nevermore and Jim, and often times the mishaps of others, could bring her to do. "Yeah, I guess so. Dammit, I have this horrible headache."

"Why? You only get headaches when Squallid trucks you in the hallway."

"I don’t know. To many hectic activities going on, I guess." She crossed her arms on the desk and rested her head down on it, her face still looking at Nevermore. "Nevermore, am I bothersome to you?"

He looked up suddenly at her, surprised. "Huh? I think you’re the sweetest girl I know." He grinned at her clandestine beaming. "Why?"

"I just…wanted some advice. Stop smirking."

"Heh heh. Okay, I can spare a few moments for my lady. What’s up?"

"I…was asked to go to a …school for the ‘gifted’. I was wondering if I should attend."

"You’re asking me? I’ve never been to a special school. I think the one geniuses you should ask is either Jim or Otacon. Jim’s a little busy and ironic, so you’re just left with Otacon, really."

"O-otacon?" she stammered. Nevermore could tell that she was dumbstruck. For one thing, she was beginning to sweat profusely, and for another, she was fell right out of her chair, lying sprawled out and face down on the floor.

"You okay?!" he yelled, almost rushing to her aid.

"Um…I’m fine. Really, I swear. Just go back to work and, um… ignore me, okay? Okay."

Eskimo and Squallid sat in the corner, occasionally glancing out towards the others. They would be safe enough in the small fortress they had constructed from furniture and household objects. Eskimo glanced out of the window, which he had made with a sieve and three spoons. "Are you prepared for the day of reckoning, young Jedi?"

Squallid squinted through the darkness at his mentor. "Yeah."

"Then what are we doing?"

Squallid racked his brains for a few moments. "Um, in the morning we're going to the law firm place. You're going to talk to them and keep them busy while I go and..." He took a look out of the sieve, checking for eavesdroppers. "You know."

"I have studied their building. The vault lies on the underground floor. Their material wealth is protected by a steel door and an electric lock. There may be droids. Watch out for stormtroopers..."

Squallid sensed Eskimo was getting off the point. "And the court case?"

"Unimportant."

"But it's like..."

"Of no significance." Eskimo's tone was warning. "Concentrate on the task in hand. The one known as Mechninja will pay us dearly. Fif... uh, ten percent. That's a lot. You can have half of it."

Squallid was about to ask another question, when he heard another voice. "Are we not a little old for this kind of thing? Get out of there, we need the cushions!" Nevermore sounded a little irritable. "You really do make me wonder sometimes, Eskimo."

The fortress fell silent. After a moment, it shook from side to side a bit, and collapsed. Eskimo climbed out of the wreckage and walked off nonchalantly. Squallid, who had become trapped under a particularly large cushion, took a few moments longer to escape. Nevermore sighed deeply. As far as he could remember, life wasn't normally supposed to be this strange. He vowed to have a proper drink after the court case. It might make things seem more sane.

Jim stared absently at the mess of utensils left by Eskimo. Looking elsewhere, he saw that Yud was watching TV. He looked vulnerable. Jim got up. Now would be as good a time as any. "Hello, Yud," he said, walking over.

Yud looked up, startled. Seeing Jim, he recovered, and adopted a snide tone of voice. "What do you want?"

Jim left a gap before replying. "I think you know what I want."

Yud stared at Jim, trying to figure out whether he really knew, or was just bluffing. After a few minutes of Jim's steady gaze, he sat back. "You'll never get anything out of me. I know nothing. Don't waste your breath."

Jim smiled. "I can make life very difficult for you."

"Very funny. I'm not scared of you, Jim." Yud turned back to the TV.

"Fair enough," Jim said calmly. Turning to leave, he added, more quietly, "Galling domineering harlot."

Yud banged his head on the floor. "Wha..!? How did..? You'd..!" But Jim had gone, and his sounds fell on deaf ears. In this case, they were the ears of Nevermore, who had fallen asleep on the sofa in preparation for the morning's case.

Chocobo stared at the phone which was mounted on the wall of the kitchen. The sound of Loony's fried-whatevers rung in the background as she gazed unflinchingly at it.

"Um, Miss Chokie?" she heard someone say. Turning around slightly, she could see that it was Loony, who was holding a spatula and scraping the burnt remains from the pan he was holding. "You alright? You've been standing there for about an hour."

"I'm fine. I'm just deciding whether I should call…someone or not." Gods, that's the last pan you're ruining, buddy. She mentally made up her mind to fire him first thing the following morning.

Loony began to feel a little suspicious. He felt the urge to blurt out something about her and Otacon, but declined. There must be a way into tricking Jim to daunt Otacon. As he thought, he failed to notice that the items in the pan was now flame engulfed and the fact was evident that he had wrecked yet another pan. How can I get Chokie to notice me instead? There MUST be a way, he thought, oblivious to the fact that the following morning he will no longer be employed.

It was a known fact that a female's mind was very complicated. Chokie's, however, was like trying to read Greek in reverse. She didn't act, think, or reacted to certain things like most females, thus making the situation more confusing for him.

Loony glanced back over to Chocobo, who's hand was hanging in the air about five inches away from the phone. He was about to speak, but she had already ran out of the kitchen screaming. Shrugging, he grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out the flames. Again.

There came footsteps behind. Turning around slowly -- after the flames were put -- he saw that it was only Jim who came in to grab an entire flagon of whole milk and a bag of double-stuffing Oreo cookies. He was looking sullen, as usual. Gotta ask him now, Loony thought. "Hey, Jim, can I ask you something?"

"You can…" he said, shoving in a few cookies into his mouth. He continued to walk away as if he hadn't heard anything at all. Loony thought for a while why he was acting this way.

"Okay, may I ask you something?"

"Depends. What?" he said, turning round. Loony could see how tall he was up close, towering over at least a foot or two.

"Well, I need you opinion on somethin'," he began, rubbing his arm nervously. "…about Otacon."

Jim couldn't help but smirk at the hapless youth. "It's about Chokie, isn't it."

"Hey, I didn't say that!" he replied, trying to prevent the nervous stutters in his voice. "I just want to know what you think about him."

"I don't know. He's okay. I guess. I only spoke to him for a few moments." He shrugged, then took a swig from the milk jug, taking at least 1/5 of its contents. "By the way, why the hell did Chokie go flying out of here a while ago?"

Loony didn't reply. It was no use obtaining useful information from Jim. Perhaps later he would turn to Viper.

Jim found Chocobo in the work area alone, her head resting on her left hand and twirling some hair with her other. He tried his best to ignore her and continue with his cookie gourging, but the sight of her dead to her surroundings made him a little concerned. "Hello, Chokie."

She muttered a comment.

"Have you thought about the 'special' school yet? About how I would have to get up early every morning to drive you if you do attend?"

She muttered yet another comment and sighed. I need to seriously change the subject, she thought, annoyed at Jim. "Do you think I should fire Loony?"

"I don't really care." He shoved a handful of Oreos into his mouth. "He was asking about Otacon earlier though."

"Huh?"

"Asked for my opinion on him. I didn't really pay attention."

"What'd you say?" she enquired, her attention slowly perking up at the mention of Otacon.

"Pretty much what I told you in O' Donnell's. Like I said, I didn't pay attention." He mentally grinned at her annoyance and took a long swig from the milk jug.

"Must you drink from it like that? It's disgusting. No one can drink it after you!" she accused.

Goodie, the old Chokie is back. "…no one really drinks it after me," he replied, finishing the last of the milk. He held the empty jug in front of her. "See?"

"Damn you, Viper just bought that today! I was planning to bake something tomorrow morning!"

He shrugged. "Oh well. I'll buy some more at the gas station later since I have to go refill the tank in my car."

"What, did the price drop?"

He nodded. He could hear Loony yelling at everyone to come to dinner.

Gradually, Jim became aware of a sound. He tried to ignore it. This worked for about twenty minutes, but the noise was insistent. What was it? He tried to identify it. It was a loud, shrill buzz. What would make a sound like that? Perhaps it was a very large flying insect. But what was it doing here - and more to the point, why was it attempting to bore a hole in the side of Jim's skull?

Suddenly the meaning of the noise became horribly apparent. It was the alarm clock. And that meant he would have to get up, and leave the comfort of sleep for harsh reality. Stumbling over to the clock, he switched it off. He started dragging himself back to the bed to go to sleep again, but something made him stop. It was the realisation that this was the day of the court case. Which meant that he would have to be able to think straight within the next couple of hours. Oh, damn, he thought, with feeling.

In the work room, Edge took another sip of his drink. "Sounds like Jim's up," he remarked. "How he can sleep through that din I'll never know."

"Fnaaaargh," replied Yud inhumanly. He was resting his face in a pool of cold coffee.

"Loony?" The pseudo-chef stopped in his tracks with a plate of scrambled eggs, and looked around. Rabid Chocobo, who was sitting in one of the chairs near the television, beckoned him over. He walked over, eager to please as always, and greeted her brightly. Edge watched their conversation, and tried to hear what Chocobo was saying to him. However, he could only make out a few words, most notably, "moron," "flame-thrower in a fireworks factory" and "haddock." From this angle, it was easy to watch Loony's expression make the gradual transition from downcast to disconsolate. Chocobo seemed to be finding this pleasing.

Eventually, Loony traipsed back toward the kitchen. He paused by Edge. "How... how did you enjoy your... your final breakfast?" he asked, clearly unhappy.

Edge responded as kindly as possible. "I've seen better food that a dog wouldn't eat," he admitted.

Loony didn't respond, but dashed into the kitchen, hiding his face. Moments later, Edge saw him running past the window outside. There goes Loony's job, he thought. Who didn't see that one coming?

An increase in the intensity of the silence marked Jim's arrival. "What's for breakfast?" he yawned.

"Nothing," Edge told him. "Loony's just been fired."

"Good. He was a lousy cook. So what's for breakfast?"

"Nothing," Edge repeated patiently. "Loony's just been fired. You'll have to make your own breakfast."

Jim waited a few moments for the implication of this to sink in. "Fine by me," he said, eventually. Vanishing into the kitchen, he returned what seemed like moments later with a bowl of cereal. It was submerged in what may have once been milk, but was now so full of the cereal's sugar that it was starting to erode the sides of the bowl.

"What is that?" Edge enquired, not certain he was going to like the answer.

"I have no idea. I think it's breaking down my stomach wall."

"Better than Loony's breakfasts, then?"

"Much better than Loony's breakfasts, yes."

This much conversation seemed to exhaust Jim, and they continued their breakfasts in silence. Eventually, Jim stood up. "I have to go and meet up with Nevermore now." Nevermore had left earlier in order to shadow Eskimo and Squallid Snake again.

"'Bye," muttered Edge vacantly, staring at a carton of milk. Eschewing further sentiment, Jim walked out, wondering how Nevermore had got on.

As it had turned out, Nevermore had been unable to get into the Johnson building a second time, as security guards had since been hired with instructions to shoot on sight. Eskimo and Squallid, of course, had been able to enter the building with ease, as they both possessed passes.

Nevermore idly considered attempting to scale the building and look for an entrance on the roof, but didn't bother, as this would have been a stupid thing to do.

"Hey, Nevermore." Nevermore turned around to see the source of the greeting. "I had a feeling I might find you here," said Jim.

"Shouldn't you be at the court room?"

"We've got an hour yet. Anyway, it's not far away. I thought you might need some help."

Nevermore glared at him. "I don't need any help."

"Well, you haven't got into the building, have you?"

"They've stepped up the security. There's no way we're getting in. What's the point, anyway? We know what Eskimo and Squallid are doing."

Jim smiled. "We can use it against them at some point, if we need to."

"So you want us to risk our lives trying to enter the building just on the off chance that we find some use for..."

Jim brandished a small video camera. "It's not a problem. Every puzzle has a solution. The guards are not infallible. How many of them are there?"

There were two guards, milling around in the reception. The receptionist was nowhere to be seen. After a few minutes, one of the guards had to go to the toilet. The remaining one stared at nothing, thinking about nothing, as is the custom with security guards.

"Excuse me?" Instantly, the guard was on the alert. Noting the accent of the new arrival, he remembered that most British people in films were the bad guy. Apart from Hugh Grant.

"Hi," said Jim, "I'm here on a holiday from the good ol' U of K, and I was wondering whether this place is open to tourists?

"No, it isn't, barked the guard. He turned round and blocked Jim's way. "I wouldn't try to go in there if I was you," he drawled, and then froze. He could feel the hard presence of a weapon in his back, and his mind beheld a sudden image of his spine being blown through his stomach. He didn't want this to happen.

"Give him your gun, and then go round behind the desk there and lie face down," urged Nevermore, "or else I'll regret what I have to do." This was no lie. Nevermore would sincerely regret it if he had to reveal that he didn't actually have a gun. He kept the stick pressed against the guard as he obeyed the instructions, and then he and Jim subdued the unfortunate man with a nearby bin.

"Okay, smart guy, what now? We've got about two minutes before they raise the alarm."

"Where will they be?"

"Eskimo could be anywhere. Squallid, however, will soon arrive at the vault. We should probably find somewhere to hide near there."

Jim thought for a moment, and decided that it would be better to think on the move. "Let's go, then. Take us to a lift. You know. An elevator."

They moved quickly down a corridor pitifully devoid of any kind of cover, and pressed the lift's call button. After an eternity, it arrived. Nevermore pressed the "B" button. The lift moved down for what seemed longer than usual, and then the doors opened on another world. The basement corridor's bare concrete walls and white painted pipes contrasted ridiculously with the plush interior of the lift.

"Looks like something out of a Bond film," Jim remarked. "What do they need all this for?"

Nevermore peered cautiously out of the doors. The corridor was empty. "I'm guessing this company has been involved in a lot of dealings that were less than above-board. This'll be where they keep the kind of money you can't deposit in a bank account.

"I knew there was something strange about this place. Maybe it was the armed men in the reception that tipped me off."

Nevermore edged out into the corridor. A few metres away in one direction was an alcove which housed a large steel door. It was closed, and it had clearly been designed with that purpose in mind. "This must be the place. I suggest we plant the camera nearby, so we can get out of here. I can come and fetch it when the fuss has died down."

"Fair enough. I don't want to hang around in here for too long." Jim looked around. There was precious little here in the way of furniture - in fact, he'd seen more lavishly decorated prison cells. There were, however, the pipes. Jim reached up and, after a few attempts, succeeded in balancing the camera on one of the higher ones.

"That looks okay. Nobody'll notice it if they're in a hurry." Nevermore was feeling a bit apprehensive. "Let's get out of here."

Jim went to press the button, but hesitated. Looking up at the display, he saw that the lift was already moving. It had just left the top floor. He glanced wildly at Nevermore, and then they both looked back at the numbers, transfixed.

Floor three.

Floor two.

There was nowhere to hide on this corridor. Its minimalist design would harbour no trespassers. Jim tried not to think about what would happen to people who were found in places they shouldn't be.

Floor one.

Ground floor...

Jim looked around in panic. Then he looked back at the display, for lack of alternatives. Still ground floor. He stared. It was still at the ground floor. The lift had stopped.

"That was too close. Let's go." Nevermore pressed the call button, and they made their way back up to the reception, which was empty. Even the guard they had tricked was gone. Neither Jim nor Nevermore felt like hanging around to wonder why this should be so. They left for the court, where Darren and Kim were due to meet them.

Chocobo sat idly at her desk, located in the small corner of the room, twiddling her thumbs absentmindedly. With Jim away, they had no one to do his work of pencilling the book. The script that Yud had written was checked and double-checked. If nobody does anything for a long time, we'd have wasted a day, she thought. I wonder what Loony is doing. He didn't even pack his stuff. She mentally decided that if he doesn't come by within the next week, she'll box up all his belongings and send it away, giving his then empty bedroom to Nevermore.

"Hey, Chokie." Turning her head slightly, she saw that it was Edge.

"Oh, it's only you," she muttered.

"What do you mean 'only' me? Anyway, I was wondering…" he paused for a long time. "….if I could do Jim's work. For the day."

Chocobo considered this. "Alright. I doubt he'd be satisfied that I gave the job temporarily to you, but no one's around, so okay."

A wide grin spread across Edge's face. If I do a good job, she may even switch us. "Thanks, Cho'," he answered, trying to contain his happiness. Proudly, he took a seat at Jim's desk and immediately began looking for his supply of pencils. "By they way, why'd you fire Loony?"

"Well, many reasons. First, his job can be easily pushed on for another hapless reject to do. Second, his cooking stinks. Third, there'd be one less pair of eyeballs following me around." She said that all in such a fast and easy pace that he took a few extra seconds to process her words.

"I guess it's just you, me, and Yud, huh," Edge remarked after finally finding the elusive pencils, which Jim kept safely hidden a stack of books, comics, and novels.

"No," she replied, getting up and taking her black wallet off the top of her desk. "You and Yud. Nothing here for me to do, so I'll be heading off to town."

"Town? What are you gonna do in town?" he asked.

"I gotta buy some milk. Jim promised that he would do it last night, but never came to -- " that lazy arse " -- and I'll be dropping by the mall for a while. I hear there's a new Trigun volume." She stuffed the wallet into the pocket of her shirt and vanished out the front door, leaving Yud, who was semi-awake at his computer, and Edge, who was viciously drawing the comic.

About forty-five minutes into her stroll, she passed the courthouse which Nevermore had told her about previously that day. Hopefully, Jim wouldn't be in a state of shock when he experiences how the American judicial system worked. She briefly wondered if they were having their case right now, battling against Eskimo and Squallid and their team of lawyers. That reminds me, she thought, I hadn't beaten up Squallid yet. She made a mindful note of that.

She made for the mall first, since it was just another block ahead of the courthouse. Even early in the morning, the street was already packed with noisy cars, rude drivers, and loud-mouthed people. I hate this town. She passed a office buildings before coming to one with "Imp Tech" slapped on the large silver sign. "Hey, this is where Viper works," she said to herself. "Wait. Why am I talking to myself?" Shrugging, he entered the building.

Inside was a burly receptionist with bright, obviously-dyed red hair and sky blue eye shadow. Chocobo immediately thought about Drew Carrey before the receptionist spoke to her in a high-pitched voice. "Hello."

"Um, hi. I'm here to visit a friend," she replied nervously, rubbing her arm.

"You're a little young to have a friend in here," the receptionist remarked. "I know!" she squealed happily. "You must be somebody's daughter!"

"I'm not somebody's daughter," Chocobo replied angrily. Sighing with annoyance, she pulled some loose hair behind her ear. "Listen, can I just speak to somebody I know here? I mean, that is if you allow visitors."

"Of course we don't allow visitors. But since you're somebody's child, I'll let you in." She smiled, baring her gap teeth, causing Chocobo to squirm. Upon entering through the double doors, she could see one main corridor leading to the elevator, and the rest of the room lined and spaced with walls and cubicles. Occasionally, a head would pop up, look around, and then vanish back under. They're like groundhogs… "Now, where is Viper…"

"Dammit!! Goddamn bloody f^$#!!

"That's must be him," she muttered, and followed the sounds of the curses. She found him standing by the copy machine, cursing loudly and kicking it repeatedly. "Hey."

He stopped, surprised, and turned her way. Seeing that it was only Chocobo, he grinned as if nothing was happening. "Oh, hi, Chokie. What's up?"

"Nothing." She took a seat on the desk of his cubicle and crossed her legs and arms. "I was bored. Thought I could drop by and say hello."

"Oh. Well then, hello to you too." He returned to his wrestling with the copier. Chocobo watched, slightly amused, and noticed a familiar hair style moving amongst the cubicle walls. Please god, don't make it him. Please, oh please, don't let it be him…

Otacon popped out from behind a wall, holding a mug of coffee, oblivious to the fact that Chocobo was sitting on the desk next to him. "Hey, Vipe. Having trouble with the copier again?"

He cursed. "I swear, one day I'm going to…Nyarg! I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with this!!" He gave it a final boot and plopped down in his swivel chair, sulking.

"Well, better luck -- " he noticed Chocobo " -- oh. Hi, Chocobo."

"Hey," she greeted back, trying to sound as sweet as possible. She tried a shot at smiling. That usually worked.

"What are you doing here? I thought his place doesn't allow visitors." He was unusually cold.

"The receptionist told me I could go in," she answered vaguely. There was a long, eerie silence, except for the incoherent curses and prattling coming from the angry Viper. She grinned one final time, then slid off the desk and quickly left the building, ignoring the fat receptionist and her offerings of cheap candy.

Oh, damn, I don't want to go to the store. Not after this, she thought, both sullen and miserable. Turning around, despondent, she trodded back home. As she passed the courthouse again, she thought if she could go in and watch Jim and Nevermore's trial. Shrugging, she walked up the steps guarded by lifelike statues of two lions and Justice before entering through the giant wooden doors.

Jim racked his brains, trying to remember the second-rate US legal dramas that had been ported over to the UK. He was having difficulty remembering the details. In any case, Nevermore had assured him that he knew the correct procedures.

The court would soon be in session. Nevermore looked around. The jury were sitting at one side, looking wretched. Behind them were a few spectators. Rabid Chocobo was sitting toward the back. Over to Nevermore's left, he could see that Eskimo was conferring with his lawyers. Following suit would probably be a good idea.

"You remember what I told you?" Nevermore gazed sternly at his three clients.

Kim looked hesitant. "Lie if necessary?"

"That's right. Now, Jim, I've been meaning to ask... got any bright ideas?"

Jim seemed unreasonably confident. He sometimes seemed happier when things were going wrong. "You'll figure something out, I know it. Anything's possible in a court of law. The truth is immaterial. Presentation is everything. Did you know, in one case I heard of, the plaintiff successfully sued his own mother for not having him aborted? He said that he would never have gone on a violent killing spree if he hadn't existed."

"Is that true?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. But that's not the point. You were ready to believe it." He indicated the jury. "Those morons over there will believe anything they're told, as long as you're assertive about it."

Nevermore considered saying something snide in response, but at that moment the judge walked into the room. Everybody stood up. Then everybody sat down again. Waste of time, thought Jim sullenly.

The judge announced the trial. "Eskimo versus the O'Donnell's Corporation." His voice echoed needlessly. A powerful looking man with a beard concealing his neck, a sign proclaimed his name to be 'Justice R. Williams.' With only a short pause while somebody off to one side prompted him, he went on to announce all the formalities of the case. Jim was just dozing off when he realised that the Johnson lawyer had been called to make his initial statement.

The younger of Eskimo's two lawyers stood up. His expression would have shamed a poker player. The other lawyer remained seated. He was a member of the Johnson family itself, and put Nevermore in mind of an albatross.

The lawyer launched straight into his case with an annoying nasal voice. "My client likes a burger. Hell, we all do, don't we?" Already he was grinning shamelessly at the jury, winning support. "I mean, driving round to the fast food store, picking up a burger, eating it... that's my evening! Eskimo here loved a burger as much as anyone would - in fact, I would say, more than anyone else! They were his life - apart from eating, he had very little to do. And on the fateful evening in question, his wanderings led him to an O'Donnell's restaurant... the restaurant of Satan! I would now like to call Eskimo for questioning."

Nevermore stared incredulously. The content of the lawyer's speech had been nothing special, but the way he'd delivered it had been so overconfident, doubting it didn't come naturally. Eskimo had got up and wandered over to the stand.

The lawyer began with the formalities. "Is your name Eskimo?"

"You know it is. We were introduced yesterday."

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Uh... okay."

"Now, Eskimo. Can you describe what happened on the night in question?"

"Yeah."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "Well..?" prompted the lawyer.

"Oh! Well, I had just been walking around, um... doing nothing in particular... when I got hungry. So I went over to O'Donnell's. There I was served by that person over there," - he pointed at Jim - "and he made me a burger. However, when I bit into said burger, I was burned in the mouth. Because it was hot. And that injured me."

"What happened then?"

"They called me an ambulance."

"Did they attempt first aid on the spot?"

"No, they didn't. I was rushed to hospital at great risk to other traffic, and skilled doctors were able to give me a drink of water and tell me to take it easy for a little while. Whereupon I was sent back out into the streets, with nothing but the clothes I stood up in. And a receipt."

The lawyer went into pseudo-skeptical mode. "So your injuries, then, were not particularly serious?"

"Well, no."

"So why are you so upset?"

Eskimo squinted at an invisible script. "Because of the trauma I suffered during said incident. O'Donnell's has forever ruined fast food for me. I have nothing left. Nothing."

"So, employees of O'Donnell's have forever destroyed your interest in your favourite pursuit?"

"Second... uh, yeah."

"Right!" The lawyer grinned in triumph. "I now call to the stand Mr. James Burrows, employee of the O'Donnell's Corporation."

Here goes, thought Jim, walking to the front.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Don't I have to swear on the Bible?"

The lawyer's expression wavered slightly, but he carried on. "If you prefer."

A Bible was supplied. "I do," said Jim, surpressing a smile.

"Now then, Mr. Burrows. Is it true that you were not born in this country, but are in fact from England?"

"Objection," Nevermore called out. "That's completely irrelevant. He's appealing to the jury's ignorant xenophobia."

The lawyer glared at him. "Not at all. Nationality is a very important issue. It's an established fact that British people are prone to illegal acts. They loiter on street corners, they lie compulsively, they mentally undress people, they support communism... I could go on."

"Objection overruled," sighed the judge. "Please carry on."

"Did you serve my client the burger we discussed?

"Yes."

"And how can you justify the unreasonable temperature to which you heated it?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't... well, how could it have burned him if you didn't cook it?"

Jim already looked annoyed. "Kim cooked it. I served it. Get your facts straight before making a fool of yourself. The reason it was so hot is that Eskimo asked us to make it hot."

This threw the lawyer slightly, and he glanced accusingly at Eskimo, who was smiling at the floor. "Even so," he said, raising his voice slightly, "temperature is entirely subjective! You didn't verify his exact wishes?"

"I... well, I suppose..."

"He could have been seriously injured!"

"He wasn't, though."

"Not visibly, but my client is now mentally scarred. And you are the one to blame. Along with your colleagues and the corporation as a whole. How do you sleep at night?"

"Well, generally I just wait, and eventually..."

The lawyer was relentless. "I put it to you that the fact you have not yet committed suicide is a potent indicator of the scandalous lack of remorse on your part! That you failed to even help your customer in person makes me sick. How do you excuse your failure to administer first aid?"

"Well, I... I didn't think it was serious. And it wasn't, was it? The hospital said so."

"So you keep saying," the lawyer sneered. "But you were willing to take that chance. Was this your fault, or the fault of the company? Either way, I think my client is completely justified in his suit."

Jim resisted the urge to push the annoying man's teeth through his spine, as it probably wouldn't look too good to the jury. He became aware of the announcement "No further questions," and went back over to his fellow defendants.

"Looks like they're going for an open and shut case," Nevermore said quietly. "Time to defend." Pausing only to offer up a brief prayer to any god that might happen to be listening, he got up.

Loony stood on the front steps of Chocobo's house. The house that he had previously lived in a mere few hours ago. In his hand, he held a few flowers that he had stolen from the neighbors garden and on his face he had slapped on the most apologetic look he could manage. He was willing to sell his soul to Satan himself to have his job and home back.

When he had left the house, he went to a part of town to find other employment and housing. It wasn't until then that he learned about child-labor laws and the fact that they would not employ thirteen year olds. I wonder if Chokie knows that she's pulling off something illegal, he thought. Still, I have to win back her forgiveness. Then, with trembling hands, he rang the doorbell. After a few moments passed, he rang it again. And again.

Then, after seeing that one would come and answer the door, he turned the handle. Huh. Edge musta been the last to go since Chokie always locks the door. "Hello?" he called out nervously. "Is anybody home? It's me, Loony…"

"Hey, Loo'."

He jumped and spun around to see Yud, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eating a bowl of chocolate ice-cream. "Oh, it's only you," he breathed.

"What do you mean it's only me?" he asked, then continued before Loony could answer. "What are you doing here? I thought Cho' fired you."

"She did," he sighed depressingly. "I just came back to apologize for whatever it was that I did to provoke her. Is she home?"

"Nope." Loony's face fell. "Went shopping somewhere. What's with the flowers?"

"What?" He looked down and saw the daisies in his hand. "Oh, these. I was gonna give them to her as an offering of my repentance."

"That's it?" Yud commented, almost spitting the ice-cream all about the floor. "Flowers? You're gonna give her a bunch of flowers?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with flowers. She likes flowers."

Yud finished off the rest of his ice-cream and took at seat on the couch, motioning Loony to sit down across from him. "Firstly, she hates daisies. If you're gonna give her flowers, give her posies."

"But the neighbors don't have posies."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. How do you know all this?"

"I've been snooping around the house while everyone was away. You know, diaries and all. …but if you tell any living soul, I will separate you head from your body."

Loony felt scared, and then curious. "What else do you know about her?"

Yud thought about this. From the look of his face and the tone of his voice, Loony was desperate for more knowledge. This was the perfect opportunity. "Well, I can't tell you. I've already said too much already."

"Oh, come on. Please?"

"No. I'm already plotting against Jim. I don't need another enemy," he replied, standing up and moving into the kitchen. Loony, who was persistent, followed.

"Pleeeasse? I'll do anything you want."

Yud immediately stopped at the mention of that phrase. That is your problem, Loony, he thought gleefully, always too predictable. "Alright. Here, take this sketchbook and bury it as deep as possible." He gave him the book, which look very much like Jim's.

"Huh? Isn't this -- "

"No. It's not," he answered quickly before any further questions could be enquired. "Now go. You said 'anything'."

He watched as Loony grabbed a shovel on the way out and began to dig. He dug about four feet down before the thought of hitting a gas pipe crept into his mind. Then, tossing the book down, he covered up the hole and cleverly disguised the dug-area with some fallen leaves and twigs.

"Okay, it's done," he gasped, wiping some perspiration from his forehead. "Now will you tell me?"

"Wait. Before I tell you anything, you have to swear to me that you will not mention the burying of that book to anybody AND you will not tell Chocobo what I am going to tell you now."

He thought for a second, then nodded his head rapidly.

Yud began. "If you want her to notice you, you have to ignore her. Quit acting like your so infatuated with her and she'll become aware of you. …eventually."

More nodding.

"Also, she's got a thing for guys with big IQ's and messy hair. And glasses. But never mention her own hair. She hates that. She's a huge soccer fan, so if you want to strike up a conversation, I suggest you know your soccer. Let's see, what else." Yud scratched his head and tried to remember the rest. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a blue spiral notebook. Flipping a few pages, he continued to speak. " …yadda yadda yadda…Jim frightens me….blah blah blah….cat needs rabis shot…Ooh. She's into jazz music. Maybe you can take her to one of those jazz bars."

"Jazz? Bah. I hate jazz. Let me see that book." Before Yud could object, Loony yanked the notebook out of his hands. "Does she say anything about me? 'June 10^th: Loony is a slobby moron. I will eventually come for his soul with a chair. Or fire him. -U.N.' "

There was a long and eerie pause.

"Huh. Thanks." I dug four feet for THIS? "Thanks for the info, Yud. I appreciate it. I'm gonna go scrouge up whatever money that I still have and buy her some posies. Bye."

He was going to wave Yud good bye, but he could see that he was already gone.

"...and so," Nevermore continued, pacing enigmatically, "I intend to prove that this man" - here he pointed at Eskimo's lawyer - "is not only wrong, but is also worthless and lonely. It is with this aim in mind that I call my first witness. James Burrows."

Godsdamnit, me again? Jim traipsed over to the stand again.

"Do you swear to tell the..."

"Yes..!"

"Good. Now, I'm not going to ask you to recap what you said before. You did a fine job of that beforehand, despite the attempts of that idiot to make you look bad. Instead, I'll just go over what the underfed simpleton conveniently missed out."

"Objection!" the other lawyer blurted. "He keeps insulting me!"

"Well, he does have a point," said the judge. "Defense council, could you perhaps tone it down a little? Thank you."

"Now then," smiled Nevermore. "Tell me honestly, in your opinion, who was responsible for Eskimo's injury?"

Jim stared for a moment. This was a simple one. "Eskimo, of course."

"Thank you. No further questions. I call as my next witness, Eskimo."

Jim shot a glare at Eskimo as he went past. Eskimo either didn't notice, or was ignoring him.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Yeah."

"Objection!"

The judge looked confused. "What are you objecting to? He's your client."

Eskimo's lawyer was getting worked up. "Did you see the look he gave the jury? He just glanced at the jury, and pulled this face, like he meant 'Yeah, right!'" He's trying to undermine my client's credibility!"

"Overruled. Now you're just being paranoid."

"Can I carry on?" asked Nevermore impatiently. "Good. Now, Eskimo, you claim that these people have ruined fast food for you. What exactly do you mean by that?"

Eskimo was obviously ready for this one. "Every time I look at a burger, it will remind me of the trauma. I don't think I can ever face it again. Without fast food, I am nothing. It was my one true interest. I have nothing left to live for. They've ruined my life!"

Nevermore smiled politely. "What about Star Wars?"

Eskimo's smile froze.

"You've always been a big fan of Star Wars, haven't you? Surely you've still got that to live for?" He left an appropriate pause. "Or had you forgotten all about it?"

"Uh, yes. That's right. I forgot all about that. But, um, it's... it's not that important to me. Food was the most important thing. Without it I am... almost nothing." Some of the conviction seemed to have gone from Eskimo's statement.

"Have you got anything else to say for yourself?"

"Um, no."

"Right, you'd better sit down then." Nevermore seemed suddenly like a teacher berating a poor student. He then went back into charismatic mode. "I would now like to call a character witness. I call to the stand, Rabid Chocobo."

At the back, Chocobo looked around wildly. This shouldn't be! But Nevermore was staring at her expectantly. "Damn you, Nevermore," she muttered, and reluctantly approached the front of the room.

After dispensing with the usual formalities, Nevermore smiled benignly. "You are acquainted with the defendant there, am I right?"

Chocobo searched his face for a trick. "I know Jim, yes."

Nevermore gave her a meaningful look. "And what is your opinion of him? I remind you that you are under oath."

She appeared to concentrate. "Jim is a fine upstanding citizen. It is my belief that he would never knowingly hurt another living thing. His respect for the law is renowned by all."

"And would you say that he is a worthy representative of his nation?"

"Oh, more than worthy."

"Objection! He's leading the witness!"

The judge was tired of the manic lawyer. "Sit down. Defense council, I believe you've exhausted this line of questioning."

"Quite right." Nevermore turned back to Chocobo. "And you also know the plaintiff, is that right?"

"Yes..."

"And what can you say about him?"

She thought for a moment. "He's pretty disruptive. I don't know what he gets up to in the daytime, but it's probably not legal. I do know he spends a lot of time pestering old people. He's very secretive."

"Do you trust him?" Nevermore prompted.

"Hell, about as far as I can throw Seattle."

"Ms Chocobo, thank you. I have no further questions, Your Honour." As Chocobo walked away from the stand, he added quietly, "I owe you."

There was a break scheduled before the closing statements. Nevermore joined Jim and the others on the way out. "Are you sure you made our case short enough?" hissed Jim.

"Look, I can't labour it. The jury will think we're desperate."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

They stopped outside, in the shade of a pillar. "Jim and Darren, you can wait here," said Nevermore. "Get some rest. Your work is done, anyway."

"But I haven't done anything," whined Darren.

"Doesn't matter," Nevermore reassured him. "You've done a great job. Now then, Kim. I want you to go to the restaurant and heat up the fryers. I'll be there in a few minutes. But first I'm going to the Johnson building."

"Why?" asked Kim.

Nevermore exchanged a glance with Jim. "I've got a job to do."

Chocobo met Jim outside of the courthouse, leaning against a marble pillar with Darren sitting on the concrete steps. Both of them were breathing heavily, since the sun was at its peak and both were wearing black suits. Damn Midwest weather. "Hey, all," she called out. Jim looked up to her, then looked down again. Darren turned around slightly and waved. "Nevermore did well with the trial. I'm impressed."

"I wonder where he wandered off to," Darren muttered to himself.

Chocobo shrugged. "He'll probably be gone for a while. Looks like you'll be waiting in this godforsaken heat for a while." There was a small chorus of mutterings. "You know, if you guys are hungry …" Jim looked up at her interestingly at the mentioning of food. "… I could go grab something."

"Just so long as it's not a burger," Darren said. "God help you if it's a burger."

He must not know me well, she thought. "Uh, no. I could go home and whip together some turkey sandwiches."

"That would be nice," Jim finally said. He had removed his jacket and was holding it in his arm. "I like lots of meat. And go easy on the mayo this time." She nodded and was off.

To save time, she cut across behind the alley and climbed the fence, then circled around the church and ran across the small field. All of this was done in about eight minutes, and soon she found herself on the front steps of her home.

Inserting the key into the keyhole above the doorknob, she entered the house and found it empty.

"Huh. Looks like Yud and Edge ran off somewhere," she muttered, and went into the kitchen. In there, she found Loony, who was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of strawberry flavored Jell-O. "Hey, what the hell are you doing in here? Did you move all your stuff out yet?"

He looked up at her apologetically. "Chokie, whatever it was, I'm -- "

She cut him off. "Shut up, I don't have time for this. Where's the bread?" After looking about in the kitchen, she discovered it in the obvious bread box.

"Listen, Cho', the thing is that I'm -- "

"You're still here? Well, do something and get me the mayo."

He sighed, but obeyed her nonetheless. " … Chokie, I'm s --"

"Here, put this back in the fridge and get me all the stuff in the bottom left drawer."

Sighing once again, he handed her the lettuce, tomatoes, and the turkey. "Now, if you'll just listen to me, I -- " he stopped speaking as he felt her shove the head of lettuce into him.

"Be a sweetie and rinse these for me?" she asked sweetly, seeing that it was the only way to get him to shut up. He barely let out an affirmative and was quickly running it under the water.

About five minutes passed and she had already finished both the sandwiches. She placed them neatly into a plastic sandwich bag. Finished. "Well, I gotta go now," she called to Loony, grabbing the two sandwiches and putting them each into plastic sandwich bags before shoving them into a brown lunch bag. On the way out, she swiped a banana and put it in the bag too.

"Phooey," Loony muttered as she left the house, then returned to his Jell-O gourging.

Back at the courthouse, Jim and Darren were waiting for their meal. Jim was beginning to doze off from where he was standing and Darren was quietly singing old shanty sailor songs. His eyes lit up when he saw Chocobo return holding the lunchbag. "She's back."

Jim snapped awake and accepted the sandwich when she handed it to him. "Yes, food. I haven't eaten anything decent all day."

"Are you eating, Ms. Chocobo?" Darren asked.

"Nah. I gotta watch my weight. This banana ought to hold me until dinner."

"What are we having for dinner, anyway?" Jim enquired, finishing his lunch while Darren barely began his own. Her face froze. No way in hell was she going to let out the secret that she was a decent, or some might say, good chef.

"Uh, we'll just order out," she finally answered.

"But I thought you just said you were watching your weight," Darren chimed in. She glared at him, which shut him up promptly. Jim, who was pretty good at sensing tension in a conversation, decided to not say anything further.

Nevermore arrived at the court a bit late, and was rather annoyed to see that the other side's final statement had commenced without him. Still, not to worry. It was probably of little importance.

"...a rather pathetic individual, it must be said, but still one who should have the right to eat without fear!" Nobody paid any attention to Nevermore as he sat down. "Surely, if you have any humanity, you can see that the O'Donnell's Corporation is endorsing the ruining of lives!"

"How did it go?" Jim asked quietly, trying to ignore the shrill nasal voice a few metres away.

"Went just fine. I've got the camera back. Security was gone, probably didn't expect to see us back during the trial. And now we've got our secret weapon."

They became aware of the other lawyer reaching a conclusion of sorts. The thin man returned to his seat, looking smug. "Your final statement, please, defense counsel," said the judge. "Try to make it either interesting or brief."

Nevermore stood, with a reasonably complacent expression. "Thank you, Your Honour. Now, firstly, I think we would agree that the plaintiff's case rests solely on the suggestion that his life has been somehow damaged by my clients." He walked over to where the jury sat, staring at him in uncertainty. "That he can never again enjoy a burger like that, because of some kind of trauma, or flashbacks, or something."

Walking up and down, he smiled at the jurors in a way that made them at once trusting and apprehensive. "So, how can this be tested one way or the other? We can't just assume that it's true, and we can't assume it isn't. It needs to be proved. Because if it turned out that he had been lying, then I fail to see what basis he would have for this lawsuit."

Nevermore reached into a voluminous pocket. When his hand returned, it was gripping a slightly damp polystyrene case. He opened it, to reveal a burger, still quite warm from the O'Donnell's fryers. "It would be a shame to be unable to enjoy one of these." He began to saunter toward Eskimo and the two lawyers, and took a bite from the burger. "Mm, nice," he said, with a straight face. He continued to eat. "Not very healthy, perhaps, but who doesn't like to indulge once in a while?"

Nevermore suddenly whirled round. "Look at the plaintiff, if you will." Eskimo became the centre of attention. A war seemed to be taking place on his face. Anger was currently being soundly thrashed by desire. Nevermore continued, "Does this look like a person who could never touch another burger?"

Nevermore put the food down in front of Eskimo. "Do have some. I'm full."

Eskimo's lawyers suddenly seemed to be attempting mind control. Eskimo remained oblivious of their glares, and stared quietly at the small fusion of protein and cholesterol. After a few moments of thought, he calmly ate it.

"You see? Clearly he hasn't suffered any psychological damage whatsoever. Their case is based on a fallacy. And why did the plaintiff ask for such a hot burger, in any case? I would suggest that the reason he burned his mouth was that he wanted to. Thus, my clients are guilty of nothing more than giving their customers what they have asked for. And were anything to happen to them as a result of this - for example, disciplinary action by their employers - I would do anything in my power to protect them, including but not limited to informing national newspapers."

A representative of the O'Donnell's Corporation, who had been sitting in the back corner throughout the trial, got up and left. He looked angry.

Nevermore gave a quiet smile. "I rest my case."

The court was adjourned, and the jury were led away with blindfolds, to make sure they saw nothing that could affect their judgement. For want of anything better to do, everyone else present left the courtroom.

Outside, the four defendants sat on the steps. Eskimo and his lawyers were walking past, in a heated debate. The more senior lawyer was berating Eskimo. "What were you thinking!? You've completely capsised our case! How can you expect the jury to sympathise if you disprove your own goddamn testimony!?"

"Oh well," Eskimo replied, not looking particularly unhappy.

"There is still a chance, though, isn't there?" the other lawyer jabbered. "Not against the corporation, but we can launch a second case against the employees themselves, for emotional distress or something? We can start right away, if you'd just..."

"No, I don't want to," Eskimo yawned. "I don't think I'll stick around for the verdict, if you don't mind. I have an appointment to keep."

"What? You can't just..." The stick insect descendant found he was talking to an empty space. "Hey, come back! We still have a chance to make some money!"

Nevermore and the others watched Eskimo disappearing down the street. Jim spoke in a faintly annoyed tone. "Could you please tell me how you did that, Nevermore?"

"It wasn't difficult."

"You couldn't have done it without my moral support."

"Maybe. We'll never know, will we? God, those burgers are vile. How can you justify selling them?" He shook his head violently. "I can't believe I actually swallowed some of it."

Jim glared at him. "Please do not use that expression in my presence ever again."

Darren looked slightly confused. "Have we won?"

"I think so," Nevermore replied. "With any luck, the O'Donnell's Corporation will have been frightened out of shutting down the branch. I suppose we'd better go back for the verdict, though."

"When would that be?" Jim asked. "I mean, might we just as well go back home for now, and come back later? Or could they just phone through with the results?"

Nevermore sighed. "Well, if you're going back, at least take this camera with you. And put it somewhere safe."

"Okay." Jim took the slightly stained camera, and started down the steps. "I need to get back, you see. I need to psychologically damage Yud."

Yud pulled the curtains back slightly to peak at the poorly hidden mound in the back yard. He had checked on that same spot twenty-seven times that day since Loony buried it, just to make sure that some roaming animals don't dig it up or some sudden gust of wind should blow the leaves away.

He mentally laughed. "Jim would never find it," he mumbled under his breath, grinning smugly.

"Find what?" came Loony's voice from behind. Yud suddenly spun around to see him holding some boxes of his own belongings.

"Nothing," he snapped. "None of your business. And you won't mention anything that happened today to anyone either."

"I know, I know," he grumbled, moving along. "You've told that to me exactly forty-two times today." He ignored some more of Yud's mutterings and walked over to the door. He was piling his stuff there for the moving men to come and pick up the next day before he boarded a plane back to his home in Australia.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his forehead. It rendered him blind for a few milliseconds before he found himself sprawled out on the rug with the box contents spilled all over the floor. Shaking his head, he discovered that what he thought was a runaway hippo from the zoo was just Jim, his hands on the door and his face expressionless.

Chocobo, who was standing next to Jim, blinked a few times for recognizing that the guy on the floor was one of her former employee. She wasn't one to have long-term memory. "Oh. You. Glad to see you getting your stuff."

Yud kept himself from visibly fretting. With Jim around, it was probably best to leave the area. Without a word, he disappeared from the room. Jim's eyes followed him dangerously, but he said nothing.

"Hi, Miss Choco," he said nervously, trying to act as if the fall didn't feel like a ton of bricks. Remember what Yud taught you. He picked up the box and its contents and continued walking without even glancing in her direction.

Her brain took a few moments to compress his behavior before she shrugged it off and entered the kitchen. Damn. She didn't fall for it, he thought. Following her into the kitchen, he coughed to get her attention. She ignored him, and continued searching the pantry for the ever-so elusive spatula. He coughed again, and the only response he got from her was a warning glance.

"If you have a cold, there's some cough drops in the cabinet."

Loony sighed with annoyance. "No, I'm not sick, but thanks for looking after my well-being." He waited for a comment, but continued when there was a moment of silence, except for the sounds of moving jars and silverware. "Uh, I wanted to ask you, if…um, if…"

"If what? Speak, dammit, I don't have all evening."

"…if, er…" he swept the few posies off the table from his encounter with her earlier, " … if you'll go out with me. If it's not too much trouble."

She stared at the flowers in his hand, her sense of paranoia slowly setting in. "Huh?"

"You know. One date. So we can talk over whatever I did to offend you."

The posies began to look tempting. Very tempting. Damn me and my addiction to greenery. "Um, I don't know."

"Please?" he threw in his trademarked puppy-eyes. After paranoia finally seeped in, her cursed sense of pity percolated too.

I'm gonna hate myself for this. "Um, okay." No! No! No! No!! No, dammit! Why?!! Her mind began to torture itself as she mindlessly accepted his flowers.

"WOO-HOO! I mean, I'll be ready tomorrow at seven. And this is all strictly business." Chyeah, right. "Seeya!" he said brightly, then exited the kitchen grinning happily. Outside, Jim was sitting at his desk, his jacket on the floor and his feet kicked up. In the drawers of his desk hid the camera.

"What's with you? How can anyone be so happy when they just got fired?"

"I'm going to discuss business with Chokie tomorrow at seven over dinner."

There was a brief silence. "You mean a date."

"Yeah, if you put it that way."

Jim suddenly became interested. "Really. And she agreed?"

"Of course. She's in the kitchen right now."

My boss has gone completely mad. "Hm. Right. I'll speak to her about it." Now I get to mess with Yud's mind AND interfere with Loony's plans. His mind paused. I'm the luckiest guy alive. He began to chuckle, an eerie sound which would make even the most cold-hearted of society cringe.

Nevermore returned a short while later. He looked slightly tired. Spying Jim still at his desk, he walked over. "Hey, good news. Jury defeated Eskimo's suit, and the corporation is too scared to launch an inquiry or disciplinary action. You owe me big."

Jim seemed to smile. "Well, you should find that alcohol supplies are back to their normal levels. I had to put all the milk in the boiler cupboard just to make room in the fridge."

"Oh, right." Nevermore looked dubious. "The thing is, though, over this past couple of days I've found I've been able to think more clearly, and I feel a lot less dependant on it. I'm my own person now. Maybe I shouldn't go back."

They stared unblinking at one another for a long moment, and then both collapsed into hysterical laughter. "You almost had me going for a moment there," Jim managed to say.

"See? Sobriety is already rendering me less convincing," Nevermore grinned, heading for the kitchen. Jim sat back again, quietly humming an R.E.M song about whaling.

Loony walked across the room looking happy, a sight which reminded Jim that he was going to talk to Rabid Chocobo. As Loony approached the door, his expression suddenly became one of intense terror. He pressed himself against the wall and allowed Yud to walk past. Jim returned to his careful study of the back of his own eyelids, but gradually became aware that Yud was still standing behind him. "Can I help you, Yud?"

Leaning back in a chair, Jim could only see Yud's expression upside down, so it was difficult to interpret. "How are things, Jim? Any problems to report? Anything out of place?"

Jim leaned forward again and turned his chair around. "Yud, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Return to me that which is mine, or I will broadcast to the occupants of this building a certain video tape which would be damaging to you."

Yud sneered. "You do that, and I'm not joking, I will reveal to everyone here the actual events of the Day of the Five Corporations."

"You won't do that."

"Try me."

They remained in the standoff. Jim was peering intensely. "Where is it..?"

Ten dense seconds later, Yud deflated slightly. "Loony will tell you. Give me the tape."

"Thank you, Yud," Jim said smugly, reaching into a drawer. "You've been most accommodating." He stood up and handed over the tape. Yud was turning to leave, when he was hindered by Jim grabbing his arm near the shoulder. Jim spoke quietly and sincerely. "If you ever tell anyone what happened on - that day - then I will not kill you. I will ensure that you spend the rest of your natural life trapped in your own body, living in constant pain. And you know I can."

Both parties walked away happy - Yud because there was a chance that Loony would be too naïve to tell Jim the whereabouts of the book, and Jim because he had three other copies of the tape.

Going into the kitchen, Jim was overtaken by Loony. Jim grabbed a teaspoon by way of an excuse, and left again. Loony stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, trying to ignore Nevermore's noisy imbibing. Chocobo was making herself a snack, and had failed to notice Loony.

"Chokie?"

She straightened up violently and hit her head on the underside of a cupboard. "Ow! Damn it, Loony! What do you want now!?"

This outburst alarmed him somewhat, and his response came through fear-gritted teeth. "I... thought... well, I wanted to ask where you want to eat tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't know. Where is there?"

"Well, there's the Waning Gibbous Moon Restaurant, the Diced Fresian, and they've finished rebuilding the Chateau de Food'e, but, um, I'd rather not eat there again, because it holds uncomfortable memories, if you see what I mean, and it's familiar ground for Jim, too, so..."

Chocobo dismissed him with a wave. "Leave it with me, I'll think of one. Go and play with your toys, or whatever it is that you do."

Loony left the kitchen, trying to avoid Jim's steely gaze, and trying even harder to ignore the way he was brandishing the teaspoon.

It was as if he was being…watched. Jerking his head up wildly and looking about now and then, he would only see that whatever it was that made him surprised was either an insect or a some airborne lint. Still, he was unusually paranoid that morning, but that didn't prevent him from making another one of his indigestible breakfasts.

"Oh gods, no," Edge muttered as he entered the kitchen. Viper followed with some grumbled expletives. The chef who was probably cooking the death of everyone in that building continued to grin brightly.

"You just wait. Chokie'll wake up and be all impressed…and stuff."

"I doubt she'll wake up. She, Yud, and Jim sleep like the damned on weekends," Edge said. Luckies. He quickly noticed that Loony wasn't paying attention to the now flaming beaten eggs. "Erm, I have to run. I have important things to do."

"On a Saturday?" Loony asked.

"Likewise," Viper quickly chimed in. The dashed off before Loony could reply. Or notice that the omelets he was making had caught ablaze.

"Aw, dammit!" he yelled as the flames spread. Grabbing the fire extinguisher that he had been using since the day he had started work he quickly put out the flames. The eggs were now drenched in foam. "Oh, they won't notice."

Nevermore was the next to venture into the danger-zone of the kitchen. He was making inhuman sounds and clutching his head, as if trying to claw his brain out.

"Hey, Nevermore. Care for some omelets?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he dashed for the bathroom and was soon followed by wretching sounds.

"Oh well. More for Chokie then. She has a big appetite."

It was about an hour or two later that Jim emerged from his almost dead state of sleep. He plodded out, his glasses barely on straight and his hair in the usual morning bed-head. He grunted something that sounded like obscenities under his breath when he saw the frying whatevers in the now ruined pan.

"Hello, Jim!"

He merely stared at Loony, but left when he decided that he would be more intimidating if he was showered, dressed, and fully awakened. Treading wearily over to the bathroom, he discovered right before entering that Nevermore was inside. "Nevermore?" he said, sounding more like a grunt. "You okay?" A response was not needed, as followed a loud wet sound. Cringing, he shuddered and retreated into the living room, where Eskimo and Squallid were still fighting over cartoons. 9 AM and I've traveled to three different areas of the house. Jim began to think if this was a good thing, a bad thing, or an alarming thing, but soon settled for none of the above. In his experience, he discovered that it was best if one did not think in the morning.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he spun around. Behind him was what he thought was a goat dressed in clothes, but soon found that it was none other than Chocobo. "Who's in the bathroom?"

"Nevermore. He's got a hangover."

"Figures." Jim didn't respond and she plopped down on an empty cushion on the other end of the couch. She closed her eyes and waited for the bathroom to be vacant again. Soon, the arguments of Eskimo and Squallid soon sank in, as well as the horrid smell of Loony's cooking. "Good god, what is that?!" she exclaimed, shaking her head violently and coughing some.

"That," he began, "is the smell of Death."

There was the sound of more flames being put out, as well as Nevermore dragging himself out of the bathroom and sprawling out in pain in the hallway. "Well, it's open again. I'll let you use it first since you've pretty much got a miserable day ahead of you," Jim offered, briefly remembering about Loony. It took him a great deal not to grin deviously.

"Joy," she muttered, and walked away.

Eskimo returned from his morning outing. He looked slightly unsteady. Seeing nobody else available in the room, he decided to speak to Nevermore.

"That Mechninja tricked me! When I took the money to him he hit me over the head with a socket wrench and took it all! I think he wanted it because he is descended from Bock Johnson." He shook Nevermore in an attempt to get a response, then shrugged and went into the kitchen. Nevermore was not at his most responsive, having consumed too much of Hawkins' Very Old Peculiar (138% proof, 74% circumstantial evidence.) The effect was quite unusual, and shared many symptoms with brain death. His mind was a tranquil conflagration.

Rabid Chocobo returned from the bathroom, and noticed Nevermore draped on his chair. She then noticed Jim walking in. "What's the matter with Nevermore?" she asked, with some concern.

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry about him. He's been at that intense stuff, hasn't he? He'll be okay in a few hours. I've seen this before - synapses become dormant, heart slows down, rigor mortis sets in... it's nothing to worry about, it just looks worse than it is."

"Right." She looked at him. "Where have you just been, anyway?"

Jim gestured vaguely. "Oh, I was just down at O'Donnell's."

"Working? And you're back already?"

"No, I went there to resign." Upon eliciting no reaction, he went on. "Well, come on. The hours were rotten, the pay was worse, and to cap it all, I just couldn't stand those two! I mean, you've met them, haven't you? They just have no personalities!" After a brief pause, he continued. "Anyway, it's a bad idea for me to work. I have to stay here or all chaos breaks loose. Eskimo's been using me for financial gain, Edge has been coveting my job, and I think Yud is planning to kill me in a preemptive move."

Bored, Chocobo dismissed his diatribe. "Yes, whatever, you do that. I have to psychologically prepare myself for my date."

"Where are you eating?"

"The Waning Gibbous Moon. Why?"

"Is that the Indian restaurant on the corner of Gleam Street, next to the hospice?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," said Jim, wandering off. He sat down to read the paper. The main headlines - "Thirty dead in van der Graaf nastiness," "Panic cleanup follows hideous nocturnal school decoration" and "President found laughing at dead homeless" - had no visible effect on him. He looked up, though, when he noticed Loony returning from his sojourn to the shops. He appeared to be carrying a lot of food that required no cooking.

"Loony, I want a word with you."

Loony leapt half an inch into the air, and then calmed down. Act natural. "What's up, Jim?"

Jim put the paper down and stared at Loony under his eyebrows. "Where is it, Loony?" He was using his special threatening voice.

Loony panicked behind his face. "I.. I don't know what you mean."

"Don't insult my intelligence. You're babysitting for Yud the book that belongs to me! I want it back!"

"I... I swear, I don't know what you mean." He tried to be more defensive. "You must have made a mistake."

Jim tried to think of something to use as a credible threat. "I'll make something clear. Look over there. See Nevermore?" Nevermore had by now slipped onto the floor. "He was the last person to cross me. Unless you want to be next, start talking!"

"You don't frighten me." Loony was betrayed by his inability to stand in one place for more than two seconds, but he was resolute. "You can't do anything to me."

Jim smiled pleasantly. "You know, I'm actually quite glad you said that." Without speaking, he added, I'll see you around sevenish, then... As Loony walked off, he contemplated, I'm well overdue for some leisure time, anyway.

Loony went to make lunch. Jim returned to his paper. The political pages were no more interesting, being as they were about US politics. "'Stop being poor!' orders Senator" had the most column space, while "Putin hacked by manic sickle murderer" barely received a mention.

In the kitchen, Loony was scraping the mould off a loaf of bread, spilling penicillin-laden crumbs into the cutlery drawer. How can I impress Chokie, and also maybe persuade her to let me have my job back? His deliberation of this conundrum was interrupted by a sharp pain. "Ow!" How did I bang my head on the cupboard when it's right over there?

Alerted by Loony's yelp, Jim came in to see what had happened. "What's wrong, Loony?"

"Nothing..."

"Oh, good." Jim was about to leave, but remembered the possibility of denial. "Are you sure?"

"Uh... just a little unsteady."

Jim seemed suddenly to be the wrong way up. He radiated concern, and ignored the violent knocking that had just started at the door. "You'll still be okay for your date, won't you?"

"I guess." The knocking was increasing in volume. Jim stared at Loony's prone form for quite a long time, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. He darted off to answer the door.

"At last! Are you always this slow!?"

Jim looked, if anything, even less expressive. "Oh, it's you, Antimony. I should have known from the abnormally high timbre of the knocking. If I'd known, I wouldn't have been so prompt. What do you want?"

"Where's Nevermore? Reliable witnesses tell me he has been seen in public over the last few days!"

Jim became agitated. "I told you already, he's dead, he's dead! Have you no respect? Look at him! How would he have felt if he had known you wouldn't believe me?"

"What?" The underweight woman looked to where Jim was gesturing. "Oh my god! What the hell are you doing with him still in the house!?"

Jim sounded no less distressed. "It was his wish! We must keep him for three days and three nights, to see if he rises from the dead! He could be the new Jesus! Do you have healing powers?"

Antimony's anger was being slowly overtaken by a sense of dread. "You... you're insane! I should tell the police about this!"

"Oh, please don't!" Jim was becoming manic. "When the last ones did, I didn't like it! I don't like having to hide them! Will you resurrect him?"

"Just... stay away from me, alright?" Antimony had backed into the door frame. Panicking, she dashed around it and down the street.

Closing the door, Jim sniggered quietly. Is there nothing a recovering Nevermore can't do?

Chocobo paced around in her room, sighing and thinking aloud as she went. Her date with Loony was a mere nine hours away, and she was preparing herself for the worse.

Firstly, she would wear those three-inched heeled shoes she had, the ones that were so popular with teen girls her age, lest she was forced to kick Loony under the table for his habit of having "wandering" feet. Secondly, her last-year Christmas gift of evil tasting lip gloss might finally come in handy if he ever decided to be physically closer to her face after their date.

Attire-wise would be easy. For Loony, she didn't have to be too glamorous. I'll just wear what I always wear. Maybe a different color shirt, or something.

"If I'll just think of it as business, maybe it won't be so bad," she wondered aloud. There was a sudden knock at the door. Moving to answer it, she saw that it was only Jim.

"Hey. Just wondering why you're in here and not looking over our latest script." He held it up to punctuate his comment, and grinned as he saw the annoyed look on her face. I've still got it.

"I'm just thinking about the dinner I'm having with Loony," she answered, snatching the script out of his hand.

"You mean your date," Jim corrected.

"Please, it's strictly business," she replied wryly.

Denial. "What's that you got in your hand," he asked, pointing to the stick of lip-gloss in her other hand.

"Oh, this? It's suppose to be used on one's lips. Kind of like lipstick, only it's either more or less poisonous. It's suppose to make them shiny and stuff."

"And you wear it?"

"No. This is going to be my first time."

He nodded. "Good. That's the stuff they use to kill squirrels."

"All the more reason to wear it," she said, making a face. "The stuff tastes roach killer, but I think I'll be okay if I avoid swallowing any of it." I might as well program the poison control center into my cell phone. There was a long pause. I've wasted too much time speaking to this clod already. "Listen, I'm mentally bracing myself for whatever happens nine hours from now. I think it's best if I be left alone. I'll bring the script out when I'm done with it."

Jim shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. Just so long as I don't have to work."

"You do that." She closed the door and plopped down in her desk. At least checking over the script would keep her mind off of the situation at hand for a while.

Back outside, Edge was busy trying to revive Nevermore, who was somewhere in the middle of being dead and being delirious. He looked up and saw Jim coming back from his delivery trip. "Well?"

"She's busy, but we'll have the script ready as usual."

"Good. Now grab a leg and help me hoist him up off the middle of the floor."

"I think it would be best if we just leave him as is," Jim suggested, trying to decide whether he was worrying for Nevermore's current condition or just wanting to avoid more work. "I mean, what if he starts vomiting? Writhing? Vomiting and writhing? Then who would clean that up? Well?"

Edge was beginning to become irritated at Jim. "You're right." He dropped the leg, causing Nevermore to emit an animal-like growl, a sure sign that he was not yet dead.

I will have your job, so help me god. He walked away from the both of them, and Jim was about to move to his own desk when he saw Loony cross his sight. He stopped, glared at him, and after a moment, Loony realized that he was being watched. Feeling uneasy, he quickened his pace and disappeared down the hallway.

Jim grinned, then sat down at his desk, stepping over Nevermore, who muttered something about snails and cabbages, then returned to his vegetative state.

Outside, it was starting to rain. There was a lazy wind, but conditions inside were reasonable. Any recent damage to the building had been repaired, and there was only a slight damp patch on one corner of the ceiling. Eskimo sat eating his third sandwich. Jim sighed. Left unchecked, Eskimo might clean the place out, and Jim hadn't had lunch yet. Thinking about the problem for a moment, he realised he needed some kind of vengeance on Eskimo anyway. "Eskimo?"

He paused in mid-swallow. "Yeah?"

"Have you heard that Dave Prowse is in town, signing video cases and posters?"

"WOW!" Eskimo threw the remnants of his sandwich on the floor, ran to get some videos and things, and darted out into the cold weather.

Poor fool, mused Jim, and went to get some food.

Inside a cupboard, Nevermore stirred. He had been stashed there by Edge to make the place look more tidy. After thrashing about in the darkness for a while, he burst out of the doors, followed closely by some old books, a mediaeval candle and thirty intricate copper waterfowl.

"Good afternoon, Nevermore," Jim called from the kitchen. Nevermore sat down quietly to collect his thoughts.

Edge ignored this. He was playing Driver, and trying to get a new record. He was just lining himself up to jump over the approaching police cars, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Gah!"

Loony watched Edge's car swerve, strike the bonnet of a downhill police car and launch into the stratosphere. "Whoops. Good job it's only a game, eh?"

"What," muttered Edge through gritted teeth, "do you want?"

"I'm preparing for my, uh, business-related social event. How do I look?"

"You..." Edge looked at him. "Hmph. You've really gone to town this time, eh? Where did you get that tie? Charity shop?"

Loony was puzzled. "No... I borrowed it from Yud. He recommended it."

"Was he smiling at the time?"

"Don't you like it, then?"

Edge sighed. "No, no, it's fine. Is that all you wanted to ask?"

"Well, unless you have any other advice. I think I'm all ready. I got most of the burn marks out of this shirt, and these are my least ugly trainers. And you never know, so I'm going prepared..."

"Oh, dear god..." Edge mumbled, his head in his hands.

Loony thumped his chest. "Kevlar vest, see? I went to the military surplus store."

"Right, right. Could you leave me alone now, please?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention back to the pile of smoking wreckage on the screen.

Loony inhaled deeply. I have a good feeling about tonight! He sat down next to Nevermore. "Do you have any good advice, Nevermore?"

Nevermore opened his eyes. "Yes." He closed them again, and there was a long pause.

"Uh... are you going to tell me?"

"No," he yawned.

Loony got up to leave. "O... kay..." His spirits remained high, though. He decided to go and have a look around the Waning Gibbous Moon in advance. If he already knew the layout of the place, he might seem more in control on his date.

Yud emerged from the hallway and approached the kitchen. He was tired, having spent most of the night unraveling the video tape and cutting it in half lengthways. Yawning, he opened the fridge. It was beginning to look barren. He decided to boil an egg. "'Scuse me," he mumbled.

Jim remained where he was, grasping an improvised roll. "Good afternoon, Yud."

"Yeah, whatever. Need food. Cook egg."

"Yud, you tell me where my book is. Loony isn't talking."

Yud grinned evilly. "Sorry, no can do. I told him to hide it somewhere; I don't know where he put it. Only he knows."

"Yud, one of these days..." Jim turned to leave.

Yud called after him, "Four of them dead, one still on the respirator..." Jim continued out of the room, but first paused to snatch the egg from Yud's hands and hurl it into the sink.

No sense of humour, thought Yud, as he opened the fridge, and realised there were no more eggs.

Loony grinned to himself as he entered the restaurant. It was relatively empty, except for a burly middle-aged couple sitting in the corner speaking in a foreign language. The room had a nice atmosphere to it, and could possibly be the one place that had inhalable air. Above him was a large crystal chandelier, with mocked candle-shaped lightbulbs. Chokie'll like this place…

As he thought this, a short and stouty-looking man wearing a uniform that probably looked better than his own approached him and smiled toothily. His speech was well peppered with a foreign dialect, but Loony managed to make out "seat" and "follow".

"No, thank you," he replied politely. "May I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"May I have a tour of your restaurant?" he hesitated slightly to breathe, as he had expected the man to throw him out onto the street, cursing in several languages. Instead, he received an odd stare, but was led away into the back. He carefully mapped each nook and cranny, including the men's restroom and the back parking lot. He had asked if he could crawl into the ventilation ducts, but was threatened to be taken away by the police until he paid the waiter five bucks.

Afterwards, he thanked the man and walked away, feeling proud of himself that he might be the first to outsmart Jim. Proud, and a little dusty. I hope Chokie isn't allergic to this stuff…

He walked the seven minutes back home in the dark street lit only by the towering lamp-lights. Being careful not to step onto any street beggars, he finally came to the front door of his "home". Upon entering the house, he saw Viper twirling absent-mindedly in a swivel chair, humming old sailor songs. "Hello!"

Viper stopped for a second, surprised, but then resumed when he saw that it was only Loony. "What?"

"Is Chokie ready?"

"She's down the hall in the bathroom drying her hair. Why?"

"Oh. Nothing," he said slyly, in hopes that Viper might further probe him. He did not, but simply continued humming. "Erm, anyways, I was gonna ask you something earlier…" He continued as Viper stared at him in response. "Uh, will you give me and Chokie a ride to town tonight?"

"What?"

"Well, we could walk, but it would might give her a bad image of me -- "

" -- and there are guys roaming the streets out there looking for people like us. Murders, Hitler-wannabes, puppy-kickers… It's not safe."

Viper thought for a second. "What will you give me in return?"

"The safety and well-being of our beloved Missy Chokie," Loony replied brightly.

Viper repeated patiently, "What will you give me in return?"

Damn. "I'll do manual labor for you for a week."

"Month."

"Deal." The shook on it. At that second, Chocobo came sliding down on the handrail of the staircase, wearing a long-slitted skirt and black tanktop. They left the house silently, with Viper following them holding his car keys. No one noticed Jim in the bushes.

"Good evening, sir," said the waiter, smiling, "your table is ready for you."

Loony hid the feeling of gleeful smugness that was overwhelming him. This was really working. It looked as though he was a regular.

"May I take your coat, ma'am?" the waiter continued, addressing Chocobo.

"No thanks, I'll just hang on to it." She didn't want to do anything that would impede a quick getaway.

Loony sidled up to the waiter as Chocobo wandered to the table. "You remember our agreement, okay?" The waiter nodded and walked off. His name was Afdul, and he and Loony had developed the kind of friendship that can only be forged through the exchange of large sums of money. Afdul had agreed in return to keep vigil during the meal. Nobody would be getting in through the front door unless they had a reservation.

Loony and Chocobo studied the menus. "What are you having, Chokie?"

"Don't rush me." She squinted as she tried to decipher the ornate typeface. "What's Rogan Josh?"

"Isn't he the lead singer of The Pretentions?"

"Forget it. I'll just have the beef korma..."

Loony nodded meaninglessly. "Me too." A waiter took their orders, and sauntered in the general direction of the kitchen, making no hurry.

Chocobo looked around. The room was dingily lit, and quiet music played. It sounded quiet repetitive. She wondered whether the CD was damaged.

Loony steeled himself. "So, Chokie, uh, I... um." Business first. "I, uh, I was wondering if there was any chance of me having my job back. Because I've got nowhere to go, and..." It dawned on him that he was starting to sound dependent. "Well, we don't have to talk about that all evening. How's your week been?"

Chocobo sighed. She could sense a long evening ahead.

Nearby, Jim contemplated his next move. Having seen the guard at the door, he had had to formulate a different plan. He was currently hiding in an unmarked white van, in between several sealed vats marked "Not fit for human consumption" and "BIOHAZARD: hospital waste must be disposed of by incineration." Fortunately, the takeaway next door took deliveries through the same alley as the restaurant.

The van lurched to a stop, and he managed to open the door. He decided to take the tradesman's entrance, and tried to make himself look like someone who was supposed to be there.

Inside, Loony was starting to feel slightly dizzy. There wasn't much fresh air.

"...and on the one hand, it'd be good to get away from that dump, but then who's to say there isn't a catch?" Chokie went on. "I mean, I know it's inconvenient for everyone else, but then what if there's something wrong with that school? It's one of those things that seems a bit too good to be true. I ought to look into it, in between trying to keep everyone working..."

"Um, could you excuse me for a moment? I have to use the facilities." Loony stood up awkwardly. "I have a bit of a headache, and you never know, maybe someone will have stashed some aspirin in the cistern..."

Chocobo wondered why Loony was acting strangely. She then turned her mind to the conundrum of what could be keeping their meals from arriving.

Loony had retrieved his tablets, and was standing in front of the mirror preparing to take one. Good job I checked the place out earlier. I would have looked silly if I hadn't been able to find the toilets straight away.

"Hello, Loony."

The aspirin cracked the mirror and ricocheted across the floor.

"You!" Loony seemed more angry than surprised. "Get thee gone, hellion!"

Jim just about managed to ignore Loony's turn of phrase. "Loony, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Where is it?"

"I don't have time for this, Jim!"

"The hard way, then? Okay. If you don't tell me, then I will spike your food. And you know I can."

Loony smiled triumphantly. "Ha! Then I just won't eat it!"

"Maybe." Jim leaned forward slightly out of the shadow. "But you'll have to stop Chokie too. And how can you do that without looking like a dangerous maniac?"

"Wha..? You wouldn't."

Jim's expression said it all. "And if you don't, she will come to associate you with unpleasant events. Catch 22."

Loony wavered slightly. However, he was still determined to stand up for himself. "Don't think you can get away with it," he snarled, and darted away.

Not that old cliché, Jim thought. He decided to wait for a couple of minutes before striking. There was plenty of time.

Loony sat back down, and downed two aspirin with his water.

"Have you considered seeing a doctor about that headache of yours?"

"Uh, maybe. I don't know." Loony nursed his drink sullenly. He was working out his plan.

"I mean, it's... where are you going now?"

Loony had started to get up again. "Um... I left my, um... I left my watch by the sink." He glanced at his wrist. "My other watch, I mean."

The surreality of this situation had not escaped Chocobo. In fact, something seemed a little askew about the whole evening up to this point. What was the point in Loony asking her out if he wasn't going to sit at the table for more than two minutes at a time?

"Excuse me, miss?"

The voice was coming from the shadows. It looked like one of the waiters. She sighed. "What now?"

"I'm working in the kitchen, see..." He was speaking in a bizarre voice. "We've... I need to know what your orders were, so that we know we're bringing the right food to the right people."

This was downright bizarre. "We both ordered beef korma, but you should already know that! Wasn't it written down?"

"Well... yes, it was written down, on a piece of paper, but I think the paper was washed away."

Washed aw..? Oh, forget it. "Yes, whatever, just see we get the right meals, okay? And hurry up."

Jim had no intention of slowing down. It was lucky that Chokie was so preoccupied, or she would have seen through his guise in moments. Keeping to the walls to avoid detection, he moved swiftly toward the kitchens. Inside, there was a maze of ovens and refrigerators. No particular organisation was discernible. Seeking out a busy junior chef, he asked him, "Where are the beef kormas for table 14?"

The man waved vaguely. "Over there."

Jim rounded the corner, and stopped dead. Loony was standing there, looking manic. He held a large bottle of wine above his head.

"Loony, what the hell are you doing!?"

Loony laughed. "Who's gonna get the blame for this?" he grinned, and hurled the bottle into the oven's gas flame, where it shattered into numerous burning shards. These set fire to several surrounding towels, and Jim was left staring incredulously at the spreading inferno as Loony ran off. He stood transfixed for a minute or so, watching the fire, then ran over to a phone.

Outside the building, the diners stood in the street watching the plumes of smoke rising from the building. Loony and Chocobo were standing on the opposite pavement. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no problem." Chocobo seemed, if anything, slightly annoyed. "No prizes for guessing who did this."

As a slightly charred figure crept out of the side alley and ran off down the street, the distant sirens of the fire engines were already audible.

Nevermore sat at the kitchen table, semi-recovered, and eating a bowl of red cold Jell-O. His memory was slowly returning, but his thoughts and vision were muddled up. Mostly his vision. When he had first spied what should be the Jell-O in the fridge, he had a difficult time deciphering whether it really was gelatin or just a slab of beef being de-thaw. Taking his chances, he decided to eat the mystery food, which -- thank goodness -- was watermelon-flavored gelatin.

"I see you're finally awake."

Turning his head slightly, he could see Jim standing behind him. He looked sullen and calm, as usual, although it was evident he was breathing heavily from his previous 1/3 mile sprint back home. "How long was I asleep?"

"Since morning. You were up for a bit tossin' up and all for about half-an-hour."

Nevermore looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, it's not like I could help it."

Jim found a seat across from where Nevermore sat. "So how are you feeling?"

"I'm not hung over anymore, that's a start," he replied, shoving a spoonful of Jell-O into his mouth. "My vision is a little blurred, and loud noises make my head ache. And neck hurts for some strange reason." He shrugged off the last part, assuming he just must have slept on his neck wrong. This made Jim feel slightly more comfortable, as he guessed that Nevermore wouldn't be so glad to hear that he had been previously stuffed in a cupboard. "So have you seen Miss Choco?" He paused for a response from Jim.

"I thought I saw her running in the park, but it was just a tree," Jim quickly answered. He ignored the look that came from Nevermore. Suddenly, the door swung open startling the two. Nevermore abruptly felt like someone drove a herd of male elephants into his brain, causing him to clutch at his temples with both hands and groan loudly. Jim turned quickly and hid a smile as he saw Chocobo walk through the door, followed by Loony, who was apologizing non-stop to her, and Viper, who whistled some made up tunes and twirled the keys in his hand, looking forward to his labor-free month.

"Oh. Hello, darlin'," Nevermore greeted as the echoing sound slowly began to exit his head. "You look nice."

She smiled sweetly. "Thanks." She gave a sideways glance at Jim, who was ignoring her, but trying to keep himself from grinning too broadly for his own health.

"Look, Chocobo," Loony called, running in to join her in the kitchen. "I'm really, really sorry. It…it wasn't my fault! I swear!"

She waved him off. "Go in the living. I'll speak to you later. I've little business to see to with…someone."

Loony saw that stare she gave Jim, and mentally laughed at him. Smiling, he agreed. "See you soon."

Jim looked around. Undoubtedly, he was cornered. Even if he were to escape, she would probably catch up with him anyway, high-heels or no. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted…

"Was that you, Jim, running away?" she enquired rather calmly.

"I refuse to justify that question with an answer."

"You don't need to. The ashes from the fire and sap from the bushes proves it." She grinned as he snarled at her.

"It was for your own good. Besides, he owed me 'something' anyway." He waited patiently for a reaction from her. "Well, if I'm gonna get clobbered, you might as well do it now when I'm sitting. I'll remind you that I'm a good foot taller than you standing."

Nevermore, who had been watching their "conversation" since the start, had an interested yet confused look on him. "What are you two talking about?"

"Jim interfere with my meeting with Loony. Says he's got to get back at him for something."

Nevermore let out a good-natured laugh, then leaned back on his chair. He looked up at what seems to be the heavens, or, in Jim and Chocobo's case, the ceiling. "Ah…the good ol' days."

Chocobo ignored him. "Anywhoo, I didn't come in here to hurt you Jim."

He looked temporarily relieved. "Oh?"

"I wanted to…thank you," she answered, obviously having a hard time getting the words out. "For ending it early. I couldn't stand sitting two feet away from him."

Jim shrugged. "Oh. Okay, then." He got up and left, mentally laughing back at Loony. Probably louder, too.

Nevermore beckoned her to sit down with him, but she declined. She still had to deal with Loony. Walking into the living room, she found him sitting on the sofa, picking at him fingernails with a grin on his face. "Loony."

Startled, he looked up. "Hello, Chocobo!" Snickering, he added, "How's Jim?"

"He's fine. I had to talk to him about…" -- she watched his face as an obvious reaction came across it -- "…none of your business. Anyway, about you having your job back."

"Yeah?" he said, forgetting Jim and trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I've decided to give you back your job, if you swear upon your ancestors' graves to do that following…"

He jumped up, waving his arms happily before calming down again.

"Ahem. One, never touch the stove. Just leave the cooking to me. Two, get rid of that ridiculous outfit. Three, you will sleep in the living room from now on. Nevermore shall have your former bedroom. Lastly, you must obey everything I say."

Loony thought about just leaving and joining a Communist regime, but at least with Chocobo he could have a pretty female to gawk at from afar. "Deal." He stuck his hand out to shake on it, but she simply ignored him.

Jim and Nevermore continued to sit in silence, alternately inspecting the walls and floor. After a short while, Loony walked past, looking a lot more happy than he had been for the previous few days. He was already feeling better, the stress of unemployment having been removed. Hey, I can even hear with my right ear again! Smiling, he strolled into the kitchen and took a few biscuits.

Jim stared at a dent in the wall. "Looks like Loony's been demoted to lackey, then."

"It doesn't seem to be troubling him too much." Nevermore looked questioningly at Jim. "Anyway, what was it you were trying to get from him?"

"He's taken my sketchbook. Or Yud has. It's a little complicated."

Nevermore changed the subject. "You called the fire brigade, didn't you? Why was that?"

"Oh, I just need to cut down on restaurant incidents. Reducing buildings to heaps of smouldering rubble isn't really a nice hobby," Jim explained, in an unconvincing tone. Nevermore waited for the real answer. "Besides," Jim continued, "the Waning Gibbous is the only place around here where I can get a proper curry."

"I see. You're not really very good at this espionage game, are you? You always get caught."

Jim smiled slightly. "Of course I do. What's the point, if I don't get caught?"

Nevermore pondered this, and sank into a philosophical state while Jim went to get a drink.

Viper strolled into the room. "You've got some mail, Chokie."

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the envelope. "Hold on a second, Viper. This has been opened!"

"Yeah, I opened it by accident because we both have E's in our names. It's about that special school." He smirked. "Quite amusing, actually..."

"Yes, yes, I'll look at it later. I need to relax at the moment; I doubt this'll be any help."

Viper yawned and wandered over to Jim and Nevermore. "Well, Chokie's got some news about that school now."

"And I got my job back!" added Loony, walking past.

Good things come in threes, good things come in threes... Jim opened his eyes. Despite his mantra, nothing seemed to be forthcoming.

"So, you got anything planned for the weekend, Jim?" Viper enquired.

Jim pondered this. "Well, I was thinking of getting a few people together and walking very quickly through the crowded streets with long overcoats and shades, looking like we're carrying concealed weapons..."

"Count me in!" Nevermore perked up.

"...but then I decided to just go to the shops and overdose on videos of Eighties Cosgrove-Hall cartoons. As usual."

"Sounds good to me," Viper had to admit.

"But for now I'm content to just sit here and play the waiting game with Yud." He yawned. "Maybe I can catch some sleep while I'm at it."

It was when Edge began watching the evening news that the rain came pouring down. The anchorman was standing before a flaming restaurant that Edge barely recognized as the Waning Gibbous Moon. He was only familiar with it because he drove by several hundred times on an embankment to either the 7-11, or the video rental shop. That, and he had caught Yud pigging out like a fiend there whenever the food supply went dry.

At least the rain will douse the fire, he thought.

The anchorman was yelling into the microphone he was holding, as if his living room audience were deaf. He was suddenly cut off as a hand came on screen and handed him a small -- and wet -- index card. "Hm. A quick interlude. A short, obviously confused male in his teens is walking around and causing some disturbance on the streets. Witnesses say he is armed with rubber bands and a cardboard box filled with assorted Star Wars collectibles. If he is not claimed within ten hours, the authorities will hunt for him and he will be handed over and become property of Blockbuster Video Entertainment." He tossed the card over his shoulders and continued with the news report.

Edge took a moment to process the words into his brain. It was, afterall, after 10 PM. "Chokie!" he called from the living room, not bothering to turn his head.

"What?" she called back on the other side of the house in almost twice the volume, as it was a talent that most female members of the human race possessed. She was already undressed into her usual wear, and had just begun to read her letter.

"Eskimo is at it again. I think either Jim or Yud tricked him into thinking that Prowse was in town again!"

She grunted a curse and yelled back a response. "There's a dog dish under the sink! Fill it up with some leftovers and leave it on the steps! He'll be here in the morning!" Silence followed, which meant that Edge had agreed. She returned to skim-reading her letter. "Let's see. 'Dear Miss Nguyen: blah blah blah. Accepted to the Reggie Kray Academy for Gifted Girls. Blah blah blah.' Well, this school is no good at all."

"How so?"

She turned around and saw Nevermore standing in the doorway to her room. Taking the rare opportunity to rant, she began, "Look at this! It's four miles from here, so I'd have to wake Jim up to drive! He and Viper are the only ones with cars, and Viper works mornings till noon!"

He listened thoughtfully.

"The tuition is also $86,000, not including all the books and uniforms! I can't get a scholarship until my sophomore year."

"So it's a no go?"

"Of course it's a no go. I'm not about to spend ten minutes in a vehicle with a sleep deprived Jim." Chocobo shuddered, then crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. "I've got enough things on my mind as is."

"Such as?"

The sentences came out as semi-coherent rants. "Edge wants Jim's job, Eskimo is out in the public at night, and Loony is obviously lusting after me."

"Edge wants Jim's position? Are you going to give it to him?"

"Hell no. I'm not that cruel to Jim, you know."

Nevermore grinned. "I know. And don't worry about Eskimo. The least he can do out there is begin to associate himself with the public."

Chocobo looked somewhat relieved. "Oh, and speaking of Loony, that reminds me. You can have his room now. I forced him to trade it for that ugly sofa."

Nevermore didn't attempt to shield his delight. "Thanks, Choco." He turned and left the room, more than content with the thought that he no longer had to sleep on a ratty old sofa that smelled. He decided that it would be best if he celebrated with a light drink, so he went in search of whatever was left in the kitchen. Edge was taking this time searching for whatever dish Chocobo had told him to get, and Jim was glancing with narrowed eyes at him every so often. "Hello again, Jim. Hello, Edge. What're you doing?"

"Chokie said something about putting out a dish of food for Eskimo," he answered, his head still from under the sink. Deep inside, he couldn't care less for Eskimo, but he was willing to do whatever it takes to have Jim's job of lead pencilling. Little did he know that Chocobo had already rejected his offer, and was waiting patiently until the next morning.

"Oh, yeah, I remember him. Where's Squallid?"

"Word has it that he's made a comfortable corner down in the basement. I found him by a shrine constructed from pre-licked popsicle sticks and Matchbox cars dedicated to various female videogame characters." There was a cough from the living room that sounded like Viper's, but nobody paid attention to it. "I couldn't really tell. He ran away when I shined the flashlight on him."

"He and Eskimo were odd boys. Odd and. Well, just odd."

"Canadians," Edge said, thinking particularly of Eskimo. "You know them."

Nevermore scratched his forehead. "Indeed, I do." He watched Edge continue with his search for the dish. Turning to Jim, who still wasn't making eye contact with anyone, he spoke. "You know if we have any of that stuff I was drinking earlier?"

"Why the hell, pray tell, do you want to get inebriated a mere few hours after being sober?" he asked, turning his head slowly.

"I'm not going to get drunk. I'm just going to celebrate. Last time, it was us winning the trial, and this time because Choco has given me Loony's bedroom."

Jim didn't bother to stop him. "I saw Viper hide some of it under the floorboards by the fridge. I think he was worried about either your safety or the well-being of others." He watched Nevermore move over to place Jim had described. It took him a good deal of searching before he found the exact spot.

It was then that Edge discovered the dish. It was shaped like any other pet feeding bowl, only it smelled horribly of ammonia. It was, afterall, kept in the same place where Chocobo stored her cleaning fluids. Maybe Eskimo'll be to dense or dazed to smell it, he thought, and began filling it with the cold chicken leftovers from their takeout dinner.

Yud staggered through the rain, blinking, disoriented. Where was it!? Finally recognising the spot, he stumbled to his knees and started clawing frantically at the waterlogged earth. I have to move it somewhere else before...

"Need a hand?" Jim was leaning nonchalantly against a shrub, holding a trowel. Seeing Yud's horrified expression, he added, "All I had to do was follow you out here. I knew you'd break."

Damn him and his mind games... "Actually, I thought you'd suffered enough. I was going to leave it in your room." He stepped aside as Jim hacked at the soil. There was silence for a few minutes, save for the roar of the downpour, and Jim's quiet swearing.

Eventually, the trowel struck plastic. Jim reached into the hole, and extracted a supermarket bag with brown water in its creases. "If this has been damaged, so help you god..." Sheltering the bag with his torso, he ran hunched toward the blurred lights of the house.

Inside, Nevermore had found the stash of drink. Carrying it to his seat, he stopped by Edge. "Still after that pencilling job?"

"You bet. It's my ambition."

"You do know what it would mean, though?" Nevermore smiled pleasantly yet searchingly.

"Uh... well, I'd get to be penciller."

Nevermore nodded carefully. "Well, yes... that, and Jim would have to take your job. And you know how carefully he works. Just think what would happen to your painstakingly created art?" Edge was beginning to look worried. "At least this way you can tidy up Jim's pictures as you go over them. Yours is the final say. Ink can't be erased. Well, unless you use correction fluid, but you see the metaphor."

"Right..." Edge sank into thought, while Nevermore walked on to his seat, maneuvering himself into an comatose position to save effort later.

The opening door heralded the arrival of a rain-soaked Jim. He swept everything off a nearby surface, and put the bag down. Pausing briefly to put on some kitchen gloves, he took out the book with all the care of a rather unprofessional art restorer. Flipping through its pages, he smiled. "All's well..." he muttered.

"What's that, Jim?"

Jim glanced at Edge. He hadn't thought he'd spoken loud enough to be heard. "Oh, nothing. So, how's things around here?"

"Um, Loony has his job back, Chocobo's staying with her current school, Eskimo's wandering the streets confused, and Squallid's emerged from his hidey hole."

"Ah, so all is well, then."

There was noise of a scuffle and rattling from the door. After a few moments, it burst open, and Eskimo and Yud fell in over one another.

Edge smiled. "I see Eskimo followed his homing instincts at last. Good job he had his key, it looks like Yud got locked out in the rain."

"Was he? Oh, silly me. So, that accounts for everyone?"

"I think so. Nevermore's gone over there to get drunk as a skunk."

"Drunk as a lord, you mean."

"No, a skunk."

"Lord."

"Skunk."

"Lord!"

"Anyway," Edge continued, rolling his eyes, "yes, I think we're all here."

"Oh, good." Jim wandered over to the sofa, picking at a thread on his sleeve. "Makes a change..." He sat down on the old cushion and flowed into his usual position. After a few moments, Yud came over and sat beside him. They stared at the blank television screen in front of them, picking out the others' reflections in it like a rather depressing painting.

"Even?" Yud asked, his gaze fixed firmly ahead.

Jim considered. "S'pose."

Yud sighed. "So what was Eskimo doing suing you, anyway?"

"It was a distraction. Someone clued him in about dodgy money the Johnson firm was keeping. They stole it; someone else stole it off them. Yadda yadda yadda."

Yud sank down slightly in his seat.

Jim thought a moment. "Actually, something still puzzles me." He turned to Chocobo. "Chokie? Why did you decide against the Kray Academy?"

"Uh... financial reasons."

"Oh. Right."

Jim looked around him. Nevermore was onto his second bottle. Edge was smiling contemplatively at his pen. Loony was lying on a table. Viper was daydreaming. Chocobo had joined Jim and Yud in staring at the TV. Eskimo and Squallid were sitting against a wall trying to communicate telepathically. For the first time in a long while, everyone was sitting around peacefully and not arguing with or trying to kill one another.

It didn't seem right.

He glanced across at Yud's blank expression, and then turned to the other occupants of the room. "Would anyone like to watch a video?"

Hmm. And thus ends about four... well, let's just say a long time of writing. I can't speak for Chokie, but I feel a great deal of my soul has gone into this story. About a third of it, I would estimate. This means that by reading it three times, you can absorb a whole Jim by transubstantiation!

I concede that my chapters will have given something of a bad press to anyone who isn't me, but this cannot be helped. Anyway, I know I'll be slated myself next time any of them writes their own story. As usual. I'll just sign off by pointing out that if you've had half as much fun reading this as we had writing it, then that means we had twice as much fun as you! Ha!

Jim

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Go to Rabid Chocobo's Site!