The Midnight Sun

The twins walk in, hand in hand, looking as unperturbed as ever. They wander over towards Reese's office.

"Hello, Mr Reese. We heard about Mr. Hasdrubal's death. We're very sorry to hear about that. We came as quick as we could."

Their faces do not match their words at all. Instead of looking "very sorry", they have their usual blank stares. Speaking in chorus as though they've rehearsed it doesn't help either.

Kevin holds the glass up the light and swirls it gently, examining it with a critical eye. He smells the concoction, then drinks it. An appraising expression forms on his face, and he is silent for a few moments.

"Not bad. Excellent, really, given that it's your first time making it. Certainly not servable, but it isn't toxic, which is more than I can say for most of the first attempts I've seen. There was a huge scorch mark on the old bar from one poor soul's first try..." he trails off.

"Anyhow, you show aptitude, and given some time, I definitely think you could master it."

A sly grin. "Of course, there's more to bartending than one drink."

The rest of the shift passes in a blur of dainty alcoholic combinations, bubbling alchemical potions, and tips on dealing with patrons. At the end of it, Kevin sends her out from behind the bar with a half-filled bottle of rich red wine, and an admonition to report to him tomorrow afternoon for her first shift attending to the bar itself, and have to fun in the interim.

Screwtape had known she would wake up this way. He had known full well the untempered rage he with which he would have to deal if he kept Zuu within the Midnight Sun against her will.

He knew all this. Yet he could fix it.

Short, heavy chains ran from Zuu's ankles down to the foot of the bed. The bed itself, a massive, wooden affair with four tall posts and rungs for curtains, was carefully bolted on to the floor as well. The curtains were missing, of course, taken to be used in some other area of the Midnight Sun for reconstruction or some such odd purpose. Zuu's wrists had similar chains leading directly to the floor. Heavy metal plates insured that these chains held their captive arms directly alongside the body. After Screwtape had entered, the sound of bolts and locks being secured on the outside of the door rose and fell quickly.

With the exception of the windowed wall facing the end of the bed, every open space of wall had large plates bolted in place. Screwtape had instructed his workmen to secure the room into a slapdash room of metal before caring for the patient. The smell of fresh soap and flowers stood in stark contrast to this effective prison cell. The Senior Tempter steps forward towards the window, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Zuu. Please focus on my voice here. I do not deserve your wrath. My friends and colleagues do not either. You were killed by an Archangel mere hours ago. I, along with my fellows, took it upon ourselves to help you." He chuckles. "These restraints were put in place not to bind you, but to insure our safety. I assure you they ought to be totally superfluous now."

Screwtape snaps his fingers. He only hoped the words he said had been heard. The chains fall loose and clatter noisily onto the floor, freeing Zuu.

"We are locked in this room, you and I. You'll see there is one way out. The wall here, with the window, has not been secured in any way."

A tenuous silence persists as Screwtape stares down his patient.

With a careful eye Maelik read through his contract and found the terms acceptable, he had no intentions of going against the people of this 'family' anyway. So he signed on the dotted lines and passed back the papers without hesitation, his grin never faltering for even a second.

"Agreed Madame, although I have one stipulation if you'd be kind enough to humor me," he began in a chipper tone, though it seemed to lower into a rumbling growl near the end. "I'd like to keep my actual identity between just the three of us and this scrying fellow only, and even then I'd prefer for him not to know."

Leaning forwards to bring his face closer to Naoki's, his tongue flicking out as he hissed, "You understand my reasoning for my request, correct?"

The twins share a glance.

Monsters?

He mentioned them, remember?

Oh yeah...

They turn back to Reese.

"We're sorry, sir. He didn't tell us anything about his creations. We wish we could help more..."

They smile adorably. Their teeth are perfectly straight and white.

"Perhaps you can, perhaps you can..."

Reese noted that his left sleeve cuff was looking a bit rustled. He absent-mindedly clicked his boney fingers and began smoothing it, the fingers glowing with some form of conjured heat. As he did so, he continued.

"Both of you seem eminently capable. Tell me, would looking after those creations be something of interest to you? There are a fair few interesting fellows down there, some of them quite intelligent."

Now finished returning the crease to its formerly crisp state, Reese clicked his finger once more and returned his hand to the desk.

"Of course, you can feel free to reject this request. I'm aware that it's not the safest job, and several of those creatures are rather unpleasant. I'll understand."

Over the course of a few days, quiet preparations are made for Hasdrubal’s funeral. The body (sans the faceplate) is loaded into the coffin, and invitations to attend the funeral are sent out to a small group of the Family’s highest members and others who were close to Hasdrubal.

On the day of, Madame Naoki is in her room, dressing for the event. Her mood is somber; to match her chosen outfit. A black silken dress, with the same black gloves she wore on the day of the crisis, along with a veil.

Her thoughts rotate continuously through the events of the past few weeks, stirring up mixed feelings. The bittersweet day of the crisis, speaking with Resee. The improvements made to the Midnight Sun in the wake of the crisis, and the new employees.

She pulls the right hand glove on, wiggling her fingers. Her gloved hand forms a fist as she silently curses the powers that be. She was unprepared for the last week; the emotional rollercoaster that was that fateful day, and the events that followed it.

Naoki’s hand relaxes, and she sighs. Why must life go to such extremes? The high points, beyond anything she could have imagined. The low points, not as extreme, but still far too much for her delicate spirit.

And today, she would be expected to speak at the funeral; a task she was dreading more than any other. She attempts to rehearse what she might say in her head, but doesn’t get far. Even in her mind’s eye, Naoki finds herself at a loss for words.

She pulls the dark veil over her face, and hardens her features. She would at least be composed.

Finished dressing, she exits her room into her office. Trusting Artemis to follow, she doesn’t pause, continuing out the heavy office door and downstairs to the ground floor.

The usual cherry din of the bar is today dampened. Word had gotten around, and all were aware of today’s significance. Madame Naoki gestures to a waiting bouncer. It was time.

The bouncer nods, and disappears into the door marked ‘Employees Only’. Within a few moments, the door opens again, and the bouncer emerges, carrying the front of Hasdrubal’s coffin. The rest of the coffin and another bouncer follow close behind.

What had before been a dampened din now became another one of those terrible silences. All eyes were trained on the coffin held between the two bouncers.

A few patrons rose from their seats in respect, and held their hats to their chest. Within moments, nearly all other patrons had followed suit. A few of the more inebriated customers had attempted to join in, their failed attempts to stand the only thing to break the somber silence.

It was clear to all; Hasdrubal would be serving no more drinks.

A few more moments pass in silence, before Madame Naoki signals the end of it. With a nod, she motions to Paul and the other bouncer. They nod in acknowledgement, and begin making their way to the door, coffin held between them.

Madame Naoki and the others who would be attending the funeral fall into line behind them, the start of the funeral procession. As the group exits the bar, the drunken populace breaks into song, an off-key, parodic rendition of a solemn religious chorus, lamenting Hasdrubal’s passing. The lyrics are mismatched and poorly executed, but the intent is still clear; all would mourn the death of their favorite barkeep.

The coffin is loaded into a carriage, and the procession sets off down the street, headed for the graveyard.

<Exit to A Graveyard>

The twins shake their heads.

"Sorry, Mr. Reese. We're no good with pets."

Anyhow, we don't know what those things eat.

Or of they even do eat.

Mr. Hasdrubal probably mixed up some special potions for them.

I don't know how to mix potions.

Neither do I.

At some point during Akaisen's horrendous drinking ritual, he has passed out on the table. Almost completely unaware of what was going on around him, he seemed more content to sleep than leave and go home.