WarRant for Witchcr@ft #]

Emerging from the dim tunnel was a bit of a discombobulating feeling, moderately due the lights, but ever as much that our duty-shirking Hourglass had expired. We dropped down the twin steps into the *Bedazzling Halo* to link up with the troupe, passing by a crimson hot tub on our left. Straight ahead was a cluster of furniture spread out over a large banana rug.

From a brown couch with boat-themed throw pillows, Dallas began to clap erratically. "Make way for the dodgy corndogs. Up-to-date, never late, you can calculate!"

Definitely a little tipsy.

Our trio strode into the midst of the Furrowing Four members waiting upon our return, and I glared at the Boozehound. His comment was frustrating in so many ways it felt like I was being strangled. He hadn't the slightest clue what events had ensued in the Restroom -- but I remembered our near-skirmish earlier and refrained my Yap from firing.

"Here they are," Rovone announced, sweeping gesture beside Gutt.

A balding head sticking out above the back of a dark blue Life-B-Better-Lay-Z recliner greeted us. The sofa was alongside the Tyrant, who had stretched out to hog a whole couch, and a slender lamp was wedged between the two items to loosely forge an L. I decided not to sit in their vicinity. Gutt removed his glasses, rubbed at his face rather gruffly, and then hung them back in place. "When I said 'Take our time' I didn't intend for you to become faint of heart."

To plead my case wouldn't be practical, which got under my skin, but to be polite all I groused was a bland, "Sorry," and surveyed the grounds ahead in search of a home for my behind. I wanted to be, felt like I could be in some respects, but never seemed to be the guy in charge. Not here, not to date.

Phoenix and I blazed past them; I scurried around a stained-glass table and an oblong footrest, as I heard her plop to rest on the wide citruSofa across the ornamental table from Teeth = from an aerial view it might have resembled a game controller. Rovo lingered, disclosing something to Malibu.

Siggy was the only person present I felt like hob-knobbing with at the moment, and he was noticeably removed from the bulk of the gathering (matching my mood) on the edge of a titanic bed, with a blue bean bag subjugated by his quads.

In order to reach him I had to walk under this bridge that was in a league of its own: the Sky Fingers. So called, for the craggy structure, lined with grey felt, was an elevated platform, mostly one piece, like a hand that broke off at five points, at which, slides hooded with layers of silk allowed for comical landings into various cozy zones around the room. This snazzy bridge snaked above, and squiggled around at four points in this Oval-belt made full of ramps, knobs & slides.

One slide to my extreme left, corkscrewed off into Recluse Corner, which showcased a bright red nipple-mattress hybrid full of spongy bumps and twists. A wall to the right displaying Trinkets & Hunting trophies. Bean bags dotted the Lay of the Land like gumdrops.

Clear on the other side of that same branch, a ramp dipped its tongue into the Hot Tub, in a manner that reminded me of cream being dispensed into a huge cup of coffee. Completely across the room from that, one lead to a piano bench beside a lime Bookshelf. And if one cut their vision from there, across the very bed I was heading toward, there was a forked slide which split into alternate destinations: the starry-checkered bed in front of me, and the porky chairs just on the other side beholding gamer paradise.

I walked in the shadow The Sky bridge cast… (feeling like a chipmunk.)

When I sat on the mattress next to Sigg, I was alerted by a hammering of feet Overhead. My neck craned to observe Trent scuttling upside down on the Bridge. He pulled a couple of boisterous moves and then abruptly halted to dangle from his feet like a bat..

The rotund runt was enamored. "Out. Of. This. World." was his clarification.

Without the five-toed sock-shoes buckled to his feet, or the matching gloves he sported, the feat would not have been possible, for velcro was applied to the bottom of the black-and-gold paraphernalia.

Trent's rusty hair was barely long enough to sway even upside down, and there was a crimp to its strands. Suddenly he zoomed off, running a figure eight and sprinkling in some backflips, each flip seeming more of a swing from my vantage point.

I was faReasonably from a laughing mood, yet it was temporarily soothing rid the mind of tough subjects, and I couldn't help lofting an enchanted chuckle. "Wish I was high as you man," I commented. With that I dropped into a spot beside Siggy on an overgrown Fluff-orb beneath the 360 degree experience of an iMax Theater screen, to see the meeting underway.

The Drunkenator was making a gallery of delirious faces at every tiny gesture thrown nearby. Rovone had taken up space beside his sister, elbows determinedly impressing his thighs, as he coached from a hunched position."Alright, what do we have to rely on? Give me something concrete."

Things started slow. And that's putting it nicely.

Dally boy pointed at his temple with confidence and said, "Our wits."

"Solid tools of your trade Bro," Sig'gisted my thoughts from his withdrawn plantation.

"We'll all try our best in that department," Mali tenderized. "Let's be more... precise… and" he succinctly looked up at Trent roosting inside The Pouch, a basket of wolFur bolted to the rim of the bridge, "Not so abrasive."

Capone wasn't bothered by our analysis, and looked as conceited as ever. I imagined he wouldn't be able to aim a pistol later, which was just great. Our manpower was dropping by the minute. The makeshift clan thought deeper to compose a blueprint. There was a period of stiff calm.

Then Pheo's face flooded with inspiration. "Hey don't forget about the scheduled reinforcements!"

This was instantly met by applause. We had invested so much hope in that team, should we be forced to withstand any unexpected Storm of failure. Rovo cried, "Up top!" and the siblings smacked palms—ferociously.

"Totally slipped my mind!" Trent lauded above, hopping around with renewed vigor.

Gutterson sat up more erect. "Split squad?" There was pleasant surprise in his voice as he congratulated us. "From the looks of it I thought you kids put all your eggs in one basket. Glad to hear you've been thinking ahead some."

The Dictator accepted the tribute, "Why thank you, sir. I am big on brains."

Pheo threw me a gagging gesture. I returned a crinkled stink face to engage the: 'Yep I know' Syndrome. If i'd had a small projectile i might've planted it right in Teeth's teeth, to make a point how nobody enjoys a braggart or false bravado.

Then I grinned like a mad devil. "Guys, guys, guys! What else was that other girl bringing? Ack, I can't remember her name."

Sourly, Rovo crossed his arms. "Nobody told me diddly about who was on unit two. I'll shoot the moon and say it's Lonnie."

The tyrant laughed hysterically, "No way man! Even if he signed the paper to go, I'd torch it and draft all over again!"

Gutts made a face and mouthed, "This is your commanding officer?"

I shook my head, & mouthed back: ′There wasn't a vote.′ It was the Meathead at the controls or no expedition at all. He seemed hyper-secure in the niche of Overcompensating. I lolled my tongue around, and pretended to slit my throat with a thumb.

"Amy?" questioned the Prowleys' at almost the same moment.

"Naw, dat's the civilized carrot-head," shaded Siggy. Pheo huffed at him. "This girl is built like a Librury... weaRain absolute river of dark hair…"

"Ho you speak of the witch," Teeth spat.

Pheo sprang to her feet & roared, "You fictitious son-of-a-bitch! Who you calling a witch?" Her wrist flinched maniacally into a cargo-pant pocket, like a serpent threatened, and stirred... You could hear pinging sounds inside. Her brother's sandwich of a hand zipped over at her forearm. I'm pretty sure she intended to Vault clean over that puny table to help Capone visit the stars.

"There's proof," Dal swore with obvious gratification. "Why do you think Rebecca lives in a crumbling cottage across the road from that haunted barber shop?"

"That's your reasoning?" Phoenix demanded, jerking against Rovo's clutch. "Hearsay based off rumors!"

He scoffed. "That's just the beginning. The cemetery damn near qualifies as her backyard. She lives there all alone, no mother, no dad. Well, not that anyone has ever seen since they refused to buy her the car she wanted for her sixteenth birthday." His eyes were enlarged. "She searched the pawn shop for something powerful, determined to make them rue the day. Archie as my witness,"(another of his close cohorts) "the Rude-Bayka was seen leaving the shop the next day with haste, clutched to her chest, a mysterious book covered in runes. When he attempted to follow her, she saw him and took off through the woods. As you know, he's a track star; nobody in town holds a candle to him. But that day, she gassed him. By the time he got to the edge of the Treeline there was no sign of her. Then all of a sudden he hears this squawking, which becomes a rushing noise in the bushes, before a swirl of bats explode around him! That was the last thing he remembers before waking up on the floor of his bedroom."

"Your witness is biased!" protested Pheo, and scanned around. Judging from the spellbound visages, his story was holding some kind of water. But it was only boiling Phoenix. "C'mon people, can you honestly accept this as truth?" Those around the room began to find their lap the most appealing thing for miles, as a few unsure grunts were thrown out. I absently traced an old scar on my wrist. She tossed in, "That really just sounds like a whacked out dream or some drug-induced crud."

"Then how do you explain what happened that weekend," the mobster piped up again. "When Archie boldly went out to her house to investigate?" "He set out walking his dog, acting as a passerby so he might unassumingly check his suspicions. He had hoped he'd be wrong." I will give Dallas this: I never knew he was such a riveting storyteller.

"Arch was relieved to happen upon Ruby and her two sisters sitting in the backyard, innocently fooling around. Until he glimpsed the same ancient book, pages of dark arts unfolding to the sky! Until he saw what lay helpless at the center enduring such evildoing!" A shivery, tingle sliced through my spine as he reached the crescendo. "They had it splayed out upon exotic shapes depicted in the dirt, bound by rope. A kitten with a busted leg, chest heaving, stared up in alarm as the merciless killers raked at it with an array of needles, vessels, and thin, unholy tools."

With sincerity Trent blew, "All they're missing is the pointy hats and bubbling pot."

"Exactly. Not only the Voodoo priestess, but her sisters too." Teeth flashed. "Need I say more? She was training them!"

"Not at all," Malibu said, breaking the trance. "It seems we've gotten off track."

Siggy ground against his bean bag, pitched it behind us somewhere on the middle of the flotilla bed, growling, "Rigorous case! When she gets here, why don't we cook her alive with the very Bazooka she's bringing? That'll be shore to solve all our troBowls." I swore in agreement within mind, feeding off the energy of his sore-Chasm. We'd wasted precious time considering the inane topic of whether or not Rebecca was practicing witchcraft. Shallow and stupid; there can't be much truth to that or we'd have inexplicable incidents frequently befalling townsfolk.

Rovone was impressed. "Woah. Where did she get one of those Bad Boys?"

"Tweak the wording of a spell," Dallas suggested, "Presto!"

"Sut up, you're drunk punk," started Siggy, "day rocKey LawnChore is a contribution from Saul." I could see the grief seep into his face with mention of the name. "Who be journeying out here, for no authoReason than to weild his precious contrapShone."

Now I knew what really had him going all snarls: a double-whammy. Saul wasn't precisely blood to Siggy; his surname was Waggire, not Riverain. But half-blood is a close second place. "Don't feel bad…" belcheDal Capone. "There are multiple shells: We can save one for her."

Gutterson flailed his arms, "Would you pipe down about that already! We're in a real mess here." He was beyond disgruntled, nevertheless harrumphed, and mumbled, "Pardon me." Alas, the snob was finally shocked.

Yeah, grab some sober pie, Nitwit. - "So," I wanted to round things up. "Hexes aside, what we have here is a second force who are, unfortunately, oblivious to the added High Strangeness that we found -- but privileged to be lugging one royal Artillery." I thought that might brighten the mood a touch. Then I recounted what I just said and realized little had changed about the predicament since we first stumbled through the doors. So i turned to Mali, and asked, "You got any stuff easier to carry and just as intimidating?"

"Yeah," Trent stressed. "Cause I heard the pirates have poison frogs, mermaids, & laser abduction cannons in their ranks."

"There's not supposed to be any lasers," Capone replied.

"Then why were there so many police boats washing up the Caribbean in scorched smithereens over the winter?" Rovo inquired.

Pheo face-palmed: "I don't think we're living in an outrageous actioNovel, guys."

"Well," Gut sufficed, "I don't have sniper scopes, but I do keep lasers around that can put a hole through a rhino at 500 yards. Well, for a steady hand." He threw me a wry grin. "But several are very 'Light' in nature. Those don't take much to inspire terror in the Treacherous."

"Excellent," I replied, sporting a rogue grin.

The life of the room once more regressed to morose. Siggy went pacing around, every so often crossing in front of me. Trent was done playing Spiderman and started to strip off gear to clamber down from his Perch. Dallas had now turned into a schizophrenic uttering mumbo jumbo while snickering to himself. Phoenix and Rovo were calmly holding hands. Malibu stroked at the side of his neck.

Seemed like a good time to fall back into the plush bed behind me, so I did, and stared this way and that trying to focus on something trifle. The posters weren't fulfilling, to my disappointment, and as if remaining unrelieved wasn't bad enough, my vision struck poison.

Arranged in a triangle there were three pictures of a lady. The picture on top showed a fair woman with laughing eyes and an infectious smile. There was richness to her skin and brunette hair, unlike the ones below that did not cultivate such radiance.

The hair was still long in the next, but not the vibrant, billowing sea that once had shimmered, and below straining eyes, sat a well-disguised smile taxed by the regret and corruption it had encountered along the way.

The last resigned from hiding. Wrinkles stood out against greasy skin. Her miniscule smile was betrothed to the snapshot itself & caused her glassy eyes to appear they held back a wall of water; retreating eyeScorned, no longer framed by swirls of coffee, but a frazzle so rigid, it may actually have been a wig.

They were all the same. Each was Gutterson's wife.

After her children had moved off, and she had been deprived of her pilot's license in a petty legal argument, much of the purpose felt lost from her life. Then there had been the suicide. That was the info the News pressed anyhow.

"So let's get our hands on some firepower?" Rovo appealed. Trent hopped down and peeled off his footwear and gloves, each action slicing through the stillness with deafening rips.

"No doubt, but pace yourselves yet," Gutterson replied. "We should take a few minutes to eat. I'm gonna need a handful to fetch gear from the back anyhow, and then to explain how some of them work." Slipping into Daydream over the widowhood saga as he spoke, I watched Siggy pacing instead, recalling flashes of the murder scene my father allowed to pass on the TV Screen when it rolled through the headlines as a young child.

Siggy planted along his patrol: "You know whudday say: can't perform at Top Notch on an empty stowMock. Last meal anyone?"

"You pessimist," I mumbled, feeling a grin curl.

"Following that Pyram," Gutt suffered my attention back to him. "I'd ignite your assistance in retrieving. And if the rest of you would just remain here & chill out; play games or something - and make sure to keep eyes on your injured buddy -- not just for the company but in case there be complications."