It’s Cal again. So, it’s been another couple of days, and we’re getting closer to finding Vanessa and Argyrum.
We’ve narrowed it down to Europe. We’re pretty sure she used a fake passport to leave the country. Victor tracked down a dude who deals in fake passports and convinced him to talk.
What we don’t know is how Argyrum got out with her. If they took a plane, how did she get that thing past airport security? There’s metal detectors all over the place! How did she not get caught?!?
I know, it’s a load of bullshit. But maybe that thing just slithered into the cargo hold while nobody was looking.
Possibly, Niv. It was sighted a few times around the city after the Inhuman Alliance’s attack, we know that. Erwin saw it once outside the Foundation.
Maybe it thought he was Hans or something? I dunno.
That thing might want revenge on you. Y’know, for double decapitating Hans.
Another good theory, Niv.
But why wouldn’t it just stay in the city?
Cal, we went through this once recently. With Trota, remember? We shouldn’t assume that Argyrum’s goal is avenging Hans.
Yeah, I know, Fi. It might not be about me.
But Hans was obsessed with getting revenge against me, and that thing is, in all likelihood, working to carry out orders Hans gave it before he finally died for keeps.
So even if it isn’t out for revenge, he was, and that thing might be loyal enough to Hans to carry out his revenge on his behalf.
I mean, Voilet and Bleu were that loyal to Gooroo.
Point is, it’s still likely that Argyrum wants a piece of me, but I will admit that it isn’t the only possibility.
But all the possibilities I do see all have the same outcome:
A fight. Possibly even another Invasion, but I couldn’t tell you what would be invading this time. But no matter what, there’s gonna be a scrap of some kind.
Because experience has taught me that that’s what happens, especially when Hans is involved.
You have a point, Cal. I suppose that all roads lead to Rome in this scenario.
No, we’re pretty sure they aren’t in Italy.
Hold on.
I think I might know where they are.
I mean, if Argyrum was BFFs with Hans the Nazi fuck Stahlberg, Germany’s the obvious choice, right?
Why didn’t we think of that sooner?
Right now, I’m sitting in my office, my two superpowered fluffies and a map of Europe on the desk.
“Wai dat cun-twee wook wike a bootsie?”
“That’s Italy, Pic. And honestly, I have no idea why it looks like a boot.”
Might as well call Victor.
Victor quickly picks up, and I put it on speaker.
“Cal?”
“Vic. I’m here with Mar and Pic. Where are you at the moment?”
“I’m in Paris, and Scarface is-- hold on, Cal. Hé, connard! Enlève ta main de ma poche, ou je te la coupe! Heh. Look at that asshole run, Soul Brother. Sorry, Cal. Someone just tried to pick my pocket. Continue.”
“Wait, someone actually tried to pick your pocket? Your pocket?”
Marley and Piccolo start giggling at the thought.
“How dummeh wuz dat dummeh?”
“An sum hoomins say dat fwuffies am dummehs!”
“I know, right? But what’s up, Cal?”
“It literally just occurred to me that Vanessa and Argyrum might be in Germany, Vic.”
I run my theory by Victor, and when I’m done, the dull sound of skin hitting skin indicates that Victor has just slapped his own forehead.
“Fuck. Why didn’t we look there first?”
“We’re only human, Vic. Fucking up like this hasn’t become a bad habit yet, we’re usually better than this. I’ll tell Susan to focus on questioning German airlines, and in the meanwhile, Vic, you should question the taxi drivers. There’s usually a few of them hanging around outside airports, right? Maybe Vanessa took a cab. Do you, uh, have any idea where they could have gone in Germany?”
A few seconds pass, and all the three of us hear in those seconds is the hustle and bustle of a Parisian street.
“Considering that Hans used to, y’know, work in Germany, maybe they’re heading to his old workplace. I think Hans had his own facility back when he was working for Hitler. You know Pierre had history with Hans, and me, Pierre and Deston were real busy back during the war.”
“Bizee duin wut, Vic?”
Victor laughs.
“Well, Mar, lemme put it like this: there’s three reasons that old Toothbrush Face didn’t win the war by equipping his forces with ridiculous high tech laser weapons and shit. And one of those three reasons is talking to you right now.”
“Christ. The three of you have had a lot of adventures together, haven’t you?”
“Tons. I’ve been friends with the Faucheuse brothers for a long time, Cal.”
Do you think the readers wish they could SEE some of those adventures?
Probably not. This is FluffyCommunity, and I’d wager that there aren’t a lot of fluffies in those adventures. All three of them predate fluffykind by a rather long amount of time.
Bit of an understatement regarding Vic, Fi.
“So you know where the facility is, Vic?”
“I’ve been in that facility, Cal. I know where it is, but I don’t remember what it’s like in there. After we trashed the place, me and the Faucheuse brothers celebrated the successful mission, and… see, we all had a bit too much to drink. So they don’t remember either.”
“But you remember where it is, right? So fuck the taxis, go to that facility. Don’t go inside just yet, do some recon first, then I’ll put a squad together. Got it?”
“Got it. We’ll move out to Germany ASAP, Cal. I promised Scarface we’d get crêpes while we’re in Paris, so… gimme an hour, tops.”
“Alright, Vic. Enjoy those crêpes. Try to eat quickly.”
I hang up.
This might seem like a case of skewed priorities, dear readers, but Deston’s written all about this in his books.
If you make a promise to your fluffy, keep it.
Repeatedly breaking promises made to your fluffies can permanently damage their ability to trust you, or, in the worst cases, render them incapable of trusting humans in general.
It’s different if you made an honest effort to keep the promise, and it wasn’t your fault that you failed to do so. Many fluffies can understand that, and they’ll usually appreciate that you still tried.
You know, if they’re not a brat.
But no matter who you’re dealing with, promises should not be made lightly.
Like the promise I made to kill Vanessa.
You keep bringing that up. I’m totally on board with that, but are you okay, Cal?
Not really. There’s too many loose ends.
But we’ll tie them up all neat and tidy, one by one.
“Daddeh?”
“Yeah, Mar?”
“Wut am a cwape?”
Meanwhile, several streets away from the School, the curly-haired assassin runs over the rooftops, leaping from building to building.
He stops on one rooftop. The very same rooftop Calvin and the demonic Chris once reunited on.
The building under the rooftop is a liquor store that Demon Chris did business at frequently when he was alive. Demon Chris, as an incorrigible alcoholic, was subconsciously drawn to this building.
“Okay, his apartment’s warded, the School’s warded, and so is the Tower. Not surprised he’d make it so hard for an unwanted guest to drop in.”
The assassin chuckles.
“But hey, I like the challenge.”
The assassin starts running again, leaping off the rooftop, across the street, right over a bus.
The bus is occupied by an indoor football team from Jacksonville, Florida. They’re here for an away game, and they were hoping to see something unusual happen while they’re here.
At least, more unusual than anything that happens in Florida.
However, it doesn’t look like the assassin will make it all the way across.
But right at the moment that the assassin starts plummeting to the street below…
He jumps again.
Off of thin air.
He lands deftly on a rooftop on the other side of the street, moving on.
In Paris, France, Victor stands in line for a crêpe stand with Scarface.
“Might take longer than an hour.”
Scarface, wearing a fluffy-sized beret, is chatting with the fluffy belonging to the woman next in line. A French Flag Fluffy, an earthie mare.
Flag Fluffies are usually earthies.
“Wut du yu fink of Scawface hatsie?”
“Am pwetty. Da fwuffy unda it? Nu su much.”
Victor grins.
“Shot down, Soul Brother.”
“Shud up, Souw Bwuddah.”
Scarface starts muttering under his breath, his one yellow eye narrowed.
“Scawface fowt dat dis wuz da sitty of woh-mans…”
Out of the corner of his eye, Victor spots a hotdog vendor who looks strangely familiar.
“De la saucisse dans un petit pain! Deux pour un euro, et c’est me couper la gorge!”
“Huh. Guess that’s some kind of constant.”
In Germany, in the facility that Vanessa, Argyrum and the drone Hans have claimed as their headquarters, Vanessa sits at the head of a table in a dusty, messy meeting room.
Argyrum, in nondescript humanoid form, is awkwardly pushing a broom around, attempting to sweep the dust away, but only really moving it around the room.
The drone rests on the table, next to a stack of documents.
On top of the stack, there’s an old black and white photo of two men. One is Hans, back when he was just a human.
The other is a bald, mustached man, looking a lot like a taller, thinner Ivo Eierkopf.
“Ah, Gerald. If only you’d put your mind in a machine, like I did.”
Vanessa eyes the photo.
“That looks a bit like that drug dealer the demon Hans was possessing.”
“That’s Ivo’s grandfather, Vanessa. Projekt Schatten was Gerald’s idea, you know. I was better at mechanics, but Gerald was better at genetics. We were an imposing team together. The two best scientists Hitler had on his payroll. Old Gerald would probably have been disappointed to see his grandson slinging cocaine.”
Argyrum briefly pauses from sweeping to turn to the drone.
“…Well, yes, becoming a podiatrist would be better, but it would still be a waste of the Eierkopf family gift for science.”
“So how is Projekt Schatten’s readjustment coming among, Hans? Will he be ready for the field soon?”
“Not until I can get him to stop muttering derogatory comments about the Jews when he thinks I’m not listening. Keep in mind, he’s been asleep for seventy years at least, and he’s only been awake for a few days. But he’s a fast learner. All Omega Classes are. What’s surprised me is that he’s been very… obedient. I thought he’d have broken out of the facility by now. He was very difficult to get under control back in the old days, which is exactly why he was placed in suspended animation.”
“Where would he run, Hans?”
“Anywhere that isn’t here. I haven’t told him that there are others like him yet. One of my other backups made that mistake with Adam.”
“And how long is it going to take to get this place all cleaned up?”
“With just the four of us? A while. The Faucheuse brothers and their pet assassin left a real mess behind. But I’m just glad that they never discovered Projekt Schatten. I can’t really do much to help like this, I’m afraid. What am I supposed to do? Have Argyrum duct tape a feather duster to me?”
Argyrum stops sweeping and turns to the drone again.
“A rhetorical question, my friend.”
So Argyrum resumes their attempts to sweep, and the drone continues.
“But have no fear, Vanessa. All we need is a few good pairs of hands to do the heavy lifting for us. And do you know what the really good thing about robots is?”
“What?”
The drone chuckles.
“Once you have one robot, it becomes easier to make more. One robot can make a second robot. Those two robots can make two more. And so on, and on.”
“But where are you going to get the parts, Hans?”
“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas. But before I can get serious, I’ll need a pair of hands of my own. To be honest, I am quite sick of this drone.”
“Well, you helped me get out of my prison. It’s only fair that I help you get out of yours.”
“And I know exactly how you can do that. Do you have a pen and paper on you?”
“I’ve got a pen, and I can probably find some paper.”
The drone chuckles again.
“Good. Because we need to write a little shopping list…”
