VigiLock Taint#$'more Tribu*Tarts!

Once the jostling for a decent package at the vending machines ended, we began to reassemble at a tighter venue for munching snacks. It was closer in proximity to the Arcade stations, a huge pentagonal table thrice the size of what we'd previously been staggered around. A cluster of 5 bowl-shaped, sapphire-glaze chairs studded with silver stars*{)@{) crossed by razor-thin crimson threads, arranged a ring around it.

As we retreated, I targeted Siggy through the wilderness of commotion in search of that temporary Promised land. Time was an inchworm. He still seemed agitated & aloof. As I approached he dredged a, "What'Soup?" from between perforations in his dark sideburns.

"So Saul got involved with this because he wants to oversee the safety of his homemade launcher?" It didn't escape, but I felt a laugh rising in my airways.

That caught him a little off guard -- maybe because I paid attention to the information so closely amidst the rest of chaos. He shook his head as if flushing fears out of his ears. "Close. He's nevore got to use the blasted thing away from a practice target."

Ah yes, an engineer amped to view the results of their toil. "Well c'mon bro, it's gotta be more impressive than a happy meal toy," I jested. "Such a rare instance to fit occasion with something of that caliber."

"At's the thing," he drilled, ire edging back in. "Where's the suitaBull occasion? Cutthroats know what a Bad bluff looks like. We aren' gonna use it to cut down any of those buccaneers, or deal be a professional investigation and some kind of Gang retribution."

"Well what else is gonna take down Ol' legendary skunk ape if it bumps into us," I volleyed.

Sig squished his eyes. His ability to appear laid-back was waning. Everyone has a breaking point; and I realized unidentifiable threat was where he was ready to pack up camp & scram. "His papi was a shoot 'em up enthoosiAss well," He snorted, and it fay'Died short. "But nod our mama, of course. Sometimes Falco is a dork like taught." (this was Saul's nickname because of his resemblance to the Rockstar musician).

"I'm sorry you got family wrapped up in this."

"As do the Prowleys," he pointed out. "Lemme deal winDot. It's my problem now, iddn't it?" I saw his free fist clenchinGrind. He was trying to force it aside out of mind. In any scenario, if he lost Saul, himself, or both, somebody was going to be cursed to live through another's demise or mauling, as his sweetheart Sienna would be waiting back in town. For him, the only win would have to be total = and he knew it.

"Hell no. Let you go through that headspace alone?" I assured him, "Your tribulations are mine. I'll run to your aid any day—so long as I'm not deceased."

"Okayyy hem," he accepted, as we set down our grub. "If i don't live to tell, give Sienna this."

He reached into his back pocket and shoved an aquamarine-spotted locket at me.

"Please take it," he said. It also was thinly trimmed by some kind of beer-luscent mineral. *Xenothyme*, I think he'd mentioned before.

"Don't be ridiculous," I argued. "Must you insist on being a worry-wart?"

He slapped it into the meat of my palm and closed my fingers around it. "JusTake it, I don' feel lucky toadAymigo - and I don' wish it lewded off my body."

I fumbled with the necklace (but more with hisStatements). Inside unclasped a photo of them having ice cream at the beach: (it was black-n-white so that Sienna's dichromatic eyes could mostly be ignored for once). She was brunette also, as she pretended to hog both cones toward herself. I exhaled.

Been over a semester since I had called someone my significant other. And I wasn't sure I was ready to commit again anytime soon, since Caprice had slithered straight over to Caphony within a month. If Pheo wasn't so feisty, Traci wasn't the size of a french fry, if Nadine wasn't Gwain's airhead, & the zen Weyjes' sisters would quit sneering all the time... dating options were brute or slim around here. Albeit, I had considered approaching peachy Amelia whenever the tag-team caught up: despite her dressing like a City-slicker, she wasn't snooty.

I realized my fist gone balled up 'round the metal & snapped shut 'til it felt as if branded into my palm. Maybe Estrangements are just one of those things that never quite fade. (yet at the time, I was too young to grasp much of how Lanes of Scene-O'-Time could shift in one's favor).

"One less ding I can worry about," Siggy added.

It was like he resigned to Fate, composing a Will of testament in case, but absconded the legalities-drafting part and cut to the process where his possessions actually changed hands.

With more oomph than necessary, I sat down in one of the swiveling cushions. The seat was too short and my hamstrings felt a little compressed, but for some reason it felt normal to be discomforted. I roamed over my water-shedding pants. "Unfortunately, I don't think I have a place to carry this," I tried to excuse myself.

"Hm, here's an idear," he meditated from behind a mouthful of a Drumboat cinnamon roll, "It's jewelry; Wear it."

That disturbed me as improper, but I complied, hoiSting the cobalt chain above my head, gathering my hair in a bundle to make sure nothing tugged, and slipped it round my neck.

I posed as if I was in the limelight. "How does it look?"

"Like A Pop star," he said without looking up, gobbling sugar that was never part of his diet. "And by hat I mean a Pop-Tart-Box paStore."

This was an inside joke amidst a topic our Psychology Teacher had spawned. One of several. "I knew you'd whip out one of those classics sooner or later."

"Don't make me bust out anuddore move!" he contested, referencing to a time which we'd had to assist the janitor in cleaning up a mess.

Tucking the jewelry down into my shirt, I dredged up the rest of the disgruntled line: "Cause I oughta be able to rest my bottom easy here in this chair without polishing off a bunch of trash I didn't chuck!" then dug my teeth into the plastic packaging of a Loose Moose Roll. It would have been great to have wholesome calories, but as usual, something was better than nothing.

The din of wrappers being opened began to intensify as the others took up seats nearby us. For the most part, our pack chose to rest the vocal chords, and if my company was anything like me, every single taste was relished, if not divided into categories so as to isolate the premier flavor. Your mouth can take most anything off your mind.

I leaned in for another hearty bite of gooey cream—and mostly clipped bone against bone. Great. I chucked the empty package with disgust toward the middle of the table where it joined a rising mountain. It was gone so fast my tongue was screaming robbery. It seemed like I had only taken two bites. Was it really that tiny? Oh reimburse me, Time! Are ye holding idleness against me?

"Hurry up and fetch some firepower already," the Tyrant demanded, chopping through my wonderment like it was warm butter.

Gutterson peeked over my shoulder, portendingly. "You ready there, sport?"

I indicated as if to say, *Ready as I'll ever be;* and stood up.

But before we could walk away, Siggy inquired, "Any dose biGuns come wish straps, so I can keep free handSteWin the bayou?"

"Good thinking!" Dallas readily fired. "But personally I want BOTH my hands FULL."

Rovo's eyes spun. "You'll need double barrel action to hit anything with all that liquor in your veins, dude."

Tell 'em brother.

"Shut up, that's how John Wick does it," Dallas fired back.

Pheo snorted. "That's primarily when he's surrounded and outnumbered."

"When I'm outnumbered…" came Trent's wheezy voice, "I prefer all-consuming FIRE = Dispatches with haste." His receding bluEyes shifted. "Hehehe."

The Gutter chuckled. "I can't remember the last time I was asked for a flamethrower." All eyes suddenly glued onto him. "Well," Mali backtracked, "You might entertain other ways for making S'mores. Do you realize the propulsion inside those suckers? You could too easily catch the wrong things on fire. I don't know if I can trust regular civilians with that sort."

Phoenix showed off her pearly whites. "I can scorch targets economically 24/7. As my name so implies."

"Come on Old timer, we're in the swamp," the MobStar assured.. "It can take care of itself."

"Beware of friendly fire, liquor guzzler," Gutts advised, toyingly. "It's highly flammable."

"The Dickhead's got a good point for once sir," Rovo endorsed. "It would be a once in a lifetime experience."

Trent nodded eagerly, relishing the fact his comment had enticed so much deliberation. They had my vote too. Eyes vigorously concentrated in eagerness.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Gutts relented. "You're up to your lungs in a bunch of sketchy shit as it is."

"That's what I'MM talking about!" the Tyrant exploded.

Almost visibly, I saw a positive surge wiggle into Malibu, as nods of approval began to string up his spine. "Don't fit like clockwork as a refined bunch might, but you are tough, crossing the stumbling blocks anyway. That's all that can be asked of a team, to make it work. But please stop being shitheads to each other once you're out of school; it doesn't dress well in the business world," he elaborated.

I looked around and really gathered the collective idea of a team. Not blameless or unafraid, just striving for common goals; tenacity glittering in our otherwise preoccupied eyes.

"Actually, I find it a fair time to say a little more," Gut piped up again. "Concerning the value of what it's like to lose something precious. All of you being so young, you probably haven't had death visit your Door yet -- but today could be that very day. Today you've already been crossed by some unknown force. This is NOT the first such instance around these parts." Gutt's voice choked something back. "Roughly ten years ago," he detailed, "As each of you are aware, there was a diabolical murder in this town." I watched as the man braced himself. "It happened in the dead of night. They never even turned up any suspects... besides myself."

Himself?

"I happened to partially witness the crime, but," he shuddered. "My spouse an I were at our most vulnerable; there wasn't near enough time to react. Awoke feeling a load on my chest; saw something flash over me and knock my wife out of the bed. Before I could shake her single ghostly scream and the dream feel of the situation, she was across the room beyond repai-" his voice broke. "You see... the victim was my dear wife Lavaina."

It took a few moments to gather himself.

"The perpetrator was hunched over her form stabbing with… Ungodly velocity like a rogue savage upon piano keys. But it wasn't a man. All the while it encased her like a jellyfish, the face like an Ostrich hammered back and forth at neck-snapping angles, pausing at points to sink peeks into me: Selluh. Braid-ding. my*ighh Paain." Gutt ground his temples against the images hopping through his head. "It didn't come for me next either, Nooo. The nightmare delighted to do me a worse Suffering. Coward darted out o' there and left me to live with that scenery! I couldn't tell the detectives… I couldn't tell my relatives. But I knew from that time forward, there are forces of nature we have no classification for." And he hung his head. "Damnation on that sic-K Contortion…" he mumbled.

My mind gaped at the images it had been treated to. Instant heart failure would be my demise should I ever have a brush with that sort of devil, if nothing else, a coma. No wonder he never told me how she died. And I couldn't feel worse for him, seeing his chin on his chest, misery undying. Previously he'd told me it was suicide. Just as the forensics squad had finally been forced to declare.

He had his face between his hands now. "I never dreamed of going on without her. I hoped I'd never hear of any thing else like that for thousands of miles. But now you've encountered another cryptid, as they call them. It isn't fair, but here I am today, full-circle again. I started this Shop-talk space, aware that folks have dire needs to defend themselves. Whether it be from Monsters, thieves, Greeds of Tyranny, voodoo doctors, addiction, or common marketing scams. Yet no weapon can save you from sacrifices, kids. So never forget to fortify your heart with armor before Hardships inevitably arise."

I had just been assassinated. Nobody peeped a word. At the moment I couldn't invent a memory eraser. But I determined to add it to my personal Long-term aspirations.

"To the future," I echoed, and squeezed the senior citizen's bicep tenderly.

"To vigilance," sparked Pheo.

GuT'was busy fiddling with his glasses again, but managed a terse nod. "To busy-ness."

"I don't always stay busy," piped Trent, "But when I do… I have my friends' eyes in the back of my head." At this, Siggy & Rovone brutally restrained conniptions of glee to dignify the somber moment.

"Hey umm, Old man," Dallas mollified. "Just throw us some bulletproof vests, and after this day is done, I'll keep the flamethrower in my closet forever so my car & puppy never get ransacked without a propeRetaliation."

"Always about you isn't it Egomaniac?" I decried him.

"You better learn some witchcraft, wise guy," he threatened. "If you're gonna talk to me that way anymore."

Pheo stepped over & jerked him close by the collar. "You'll have to go through me - if I ever find out you inflame sorcery rumors again."

The brute's eyes expanded wide as a Space Station. "Lay off, don't yank the shirt!"

Pheo redoubled her grip ~ seams audibly POP*ped! She tucked the top of his ear down til it shaped >a fortune cookie<:< em> "I'll be listening."

The Kingpin thrust palms at her jaw & scooted away from her, retreating partially behind a sofa. There he fidgeted under his collar, and yelled when he found it distorted. "Crazy BARBARIAN!"

I scooted from behind Pheo and hooked an arm comfortably around her shoulder. "To vigilance..." I boasted quietly --battling a smirk from totally piercing my lips. hehehe. I swung a sassy face at Malibu. "I can't stand this clown anymore. Let's get this show on the Road."