ExFic 11: The Basin of Tartarus

“You know this is a crock, right?” Jaime asked. “Right?”

“This isn’t a crock,” Katrina argued. “It’s the doorway to the land of the dead.”

“But it’s so absurd,” Jaime said. “You can’t just summon dead people and talk to them.”

“Just drop it Jaime,” Rion replied. “This isn’t about logic, it’s about faith that Katrina’s trying to restore.”

“I dunno,” Jaime said. “I just thought that we lived in an enlightened enough age that we don’t have to sacrifice livestock to a fictitious entity in order to summon someone from an imaginary world who will just tell us what we want to hear without giving us a straight answer.”

“Just shut up and keep pulling,” bade Rion.

It wasn’t that the cow they were towing was afraid to die. It was, in fact, a special breed of Fanaticow, bred and raised to believe the greatest of all purposes was to be slaughtered for any number of purposes. They were used as beef for a while they were linked to a sharp rise in murder-suicide rates by a mad cow-like defect. Nowadays, Fanaticows are primarily raised by the military and religious cults for purposes they find beneficial to their respective agencies.

No, this cow wasn’t resisting. While many Fanaticows meet their end with great enthusiasm, occasionally dragging practitioners in their haste, the one they had chosen wanted to bask. This cow was taking its sweet time, soaking in the glory of finally being chosen for the most noble of all sacrifices. As such, it was walking slowly, even stopping occasionally to breath in the sweet, sweet air wafting in from the sacrificial chamber.

“Why do we have to tow this cow, anyway?” Jaime inquired, tugging harder on the leash as the Fanaticow stopped for another session of glory-basking. “We’re visiting Katrina’s ancestors. She should be pulling this thing.”

“But I have my hands full with the sacrificial knife and the ceremonial nail gun,” Katrina argued. “I can’t hold a leash, too.”

“She’s got ya there, sis,” Rion said, giving the leash a good tug.

“Very funny,” Jaime grumbled. She looked down at her Spigaurd, listening to its as its servos whined and its eight legs scribbled ineffectually in its efforts to help tow the bovine across the tiled floor. She picked up the cybernetic spider and allowed it to cling to her back. “You know, you could just put those things in your backpack.”

“Nah, I’m cool,” Katrina replied.

A snake with a crest of red petals around its neck and slithered up Rion’s arm and hissed conspiratorially into his ear.

“Rose Serpent suggests we whip it,” Rion replied.

“Rose Serpent always suggests we whip something,” Wearwolf noted around the leash in his teeth. “It is like a fetish.”

Rose Serpent hissed sarcastically.

“I will admit to no such thing,” Wearwolf replied.

“Whipping the cow is demeaning to its spirit,” Katrina said. “I won’t allow it. This cow is participating of its own free will and I will not sully its decision by treating it like a slave.”

“Wait a minute,” Wearwolf said, dropping the leash. “If this cow is following us to its death willingly, then why are we towing it?”

Katrina pondered the question for a moment before she replied, “Tradition? I mean, it’s not like the cow doesn’t know the way. It’s a straight hallway, from here at least.”

“So we’re straining our muscles for nothing?” Jaime inquired as the group came to an abrupt stop. This allowed the cow some extra quality time with the aura of sheer reverence emanating from the chamber ahead of them.

“Well, not for nothing,” Katrina answered with a helpful tone. “You wanted the cow to move faster, right? Although, I suppose it hasn’t really worked… Anyway, it’s not like I told you all to pull the thing, so you really only have yourselves to blame.”

The others glared at her with irritation.

“See? This is why I’m carrying the implements of death,” Katrina said to no one in particular.

It wasn’t long until they had reached the sacrificial chamber, and frankly, Jaime was expecting something more gothic, or at least darker. She was prepared for high-domed ceilings held aloft by stone archways, torches that deepened the darker recesses more than they illuminated the abysmal façade, and stone works depicting the agony of life and the sweet release of death.

This, however, felt like walking into the morgue at Disneyland. Granted, it was still domed and creepy, but it was a sugary sort of creepy. It was akin to walking into the mind of a mad-dog serial killer and seeing his twisted recollection of his pre-school. The walls and archways were covered in what looked like the fruits of a kindergarten arts and crafts session, and what wasn’t hidden appeared to be a mosaic depicting a vast meadow beneath a nearly-cloudless sky. And there was the pool, surrounded by Astroturf of all things.

The pool dominated the room, taking up two-thirds of the floor. It lay right in the center, and was the purpose of the room. That, and house the children’s drawings of their dead relatives and assorted loved ones, apparently. The water was crystal-clear, almost too clear to be natural, for it was the Pool of the Dead. It was the medium through which one could contact Those That Exist Beyond. The Hotline of the Dearly Departed. 1-800-GHOSTS-4-U.

This was the Basin of Tartarus.

“This is the Basin of Tartarus?” Jaime asked with disbelief.

“Well, it ain’t Palm Springs,” Katrina replied.

“But it’s just so… bright,” Jaime continued.

“Death doesn’t have to be all gloom and doom, you know,” Katrina explained. “Death is the end of the journey through this world and the beginning of the journey through the next. Why vilify it when you can celebrate it?”

“That’s an interesting, if frightening, philosophy,” Wearwolf replied.

“Don’t worry, I don’t revere death that much,” Katrina said.

About this time, the Fanaticow stepped onto a skiff floating at the edge of the pool. It looked back at the group, awaiting the blade expectantly with a stoic expression.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Katrina said. She stepped up to the cow and pressed the barrel of the nail gun between its eyes. She adjusted her grip and stance from gangland style to execution style. The cow stared back at her up the barrel of the nail gun with hard eyes that just dared her to pull the trigger. Eventually, Katrina lowered the gun and said, “Could you excuse me for a moment?”

“What is it?” Rion asked as Katrina walked back to the rest of the group.

“I can’t do it,” Katrina replied. “I can’t kill the cow.”

“Whatever happened to celebrating death?” Jaime asked.

“Celebrating it is one thing, but inflicting it is another,” Katrina answered. “I can’t just kill another living thing in cold blood.”

“Need I remind you we spent good money on a cow that is literally begging to be killed?” Jaime inquired rhetorically. “Not to mention nail gun and sacrificial knife rental.”

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll shoot the cow,” Rion offered as he extended his hand.

“No,” Katrina refused. “I have to kill the cow or it won’t work.”

“Actually, the nail gun just knocks it out,” Jaime explained. “It won’t actually die until it bleeds to death from a slit throat.”

“Jaime!” Rion scolded.

“What?” Jaime responded. “It’s a humane death. You kill it in its sleep.”

“Aw, geez,” Katrina said, putting a hand, and by extension the nail gun in it, on her head. She paced a bit, then made a sweeping gesture that made everyone duck as she said, “I can’t do this! I just can’t!”

“But you’ve hunted animals in Dionysus Forest, right?” Rion pointed out. “Surely, you must’ve killed at least a couple of them.”

“Yeah, but that was hunting,” Katrina said. “It’s not the same…”

Katrina was interrupted by the strangled moo. Judging from the looks on Jaime and Rion’s faces, it wasn’t a sight Katrina was looking forward to seeing. Before long, Wearwolf trotted up to her and left a large chunk of the cow’s throat at her feet.

“Do I get to eat this?” Wearwolf inquired. After a moment of being stared at with aghast expressions, he asked, “Should I take that as a ’no’?”

With the killing of the Fanaticow sorted out, Katrina boarded the skiff. Picking up a nearby oar, she shoved off and began rowing to the center of the pool.

“I thought she said it wouldn’t work if she didn’t kill it herself,” Jaime pondered from the edge of the pool.

“Mysticism isn’t always a precise science,” Rion explained. “Hopefully, one’s MultiPet partner is close enough. Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in this stuff.”

“I don’t,” Jaime replied. “But, now that we’ve gone this far, I’m just hoping she doesn’t get hurt.”

The skiff gently floated to a stop just short of the pool’s center. Katrina stared down into it. The pool seemed bottomless, stretching into an endless abyss. She thought it was staring back at her for a moment, then she realized it was her own reflection. Presently, she pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket, gave it a couple passes, and shoved it back in.

Katrina folded her hands in front of her and recited the incantation she was given. “Custodians of the next world, hallowed be thy names, open the gateway between our worlds. Allow access through this medium those that once resided in this world. Allow my ancestors to step forward and grant discourse. I offer forth lifeblood as payment, to give the dead enough life to speak. Step forward, and bathe in the Basin of Tartarus!”

As she spoke, the water boiled in front of her. It rose up in fits and splashes, causing ripples that gently pushed the skiff backwards. She stepped back and nudged the cow’s carcass forward so that the gathering blood would ooze over the side of the skiff. As blood and water mixed, the pool erupted with a massive geyser at the center. As this vertical waterfall continued, a figure stepped forward from the rising mists. It was little more than an impression in the mist, but Katrina could make out identifiable features. Then another figure stepped forward, then another, and another, and still more.

“Okay, this is too many people,” Katrina said. She fished out a photograph from her pocket and held it up for the oncoming specters to see. “I’m looking for a Jeremiah Arden. Jeremiah Arden? Has anyone seen him? Jeremiah Arden? Maybe you know him as Jerry, or Jeremy, or J.J.… I think I heard his nickname was Spanky. Anyone know a Spanky?”

The spirits gave no response save for approaching further upon the blood spilling from the gaping wound on the slain cow. Katrina sighed and picked up the oar. There wasn’t going to be enough blood to go around, and she only wanted to talk to one person, maybe two if any famous historical figures came up. Thus, she struck out with the oar, swatting and prodding spirits back to keep them at bay, occasionally comparing faces to the photo just to make sure. Eventually, her oar stopped short of a similar face.

“Jeremiah Arden?” Katrina inquired, keeping the spirit at oar‘s length. The figure nodded dumbly and she allowed it forward to the blood. It flowed up into the mist, filling out the shape that stood within. The refractive properties of the water changed, and the figure in the mist changed color. It took on the appearance of a bespectacled old man, his hair and features worn down by age. He wore a rather smart-looking suit, sans tie as was the style of his time. When the colors finished painting themselves into place, the old man opened his eyes and Katrina asked his name again.

“You can bet on it, sweetheart,” the old man replied with a smile. He looked Katrina up and down appraisingly. “Katrina, right? I barely recognize ya, doll face. I haven’t seen you since you were a rug rat.”

“You’re as sharp as ever, Great Grandpa Jeremiah,” Katrina replied with a grin.

“Call me Spanky, toots,” Jeremiah said.

“She’s not seriously buying this, is she?” Jaime asked. “I mean, people didn’t actually talk like that back then. Did they?”

“Tell me, kid, do I have to pay you to be good, or are you still good for nothin’?” Spanky inquired.

“Aw, you know I’ll always be good for nothing, Spanky,” Katrina giggled.

“Well, if he is just a fabrication, it would seem they’ve done their homework,” Rion said in response to his sister’s question.

“I know I’m a great guy and all, but I’ve got the feeling in my ghost-bones that you didn’t come all this way just for a quick howdy,” Spanky said. “What’s eatin’ ya?”

Katrina sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. In the beginning, everything seemed so clear, but now it feels like everything I want is slipping further and further out of reach. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a Chimera Knight anymore.”

Spanky mulled it over for a moment. He leaned back, scratching his chin in thought. Once he came up with a response, he leaned forward and put his hands in his pockets.

“Listen, kid, you and I both know I’m real,” he finally said. “That’s the kind of faith we have. Folks like your friend there don’t believe in all this hocus pocus. That’s fine. No skin off my nose. But if there’s one thing me and her share, its faith in you. Every single person in this room knows that when you put your mind to something, there ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna stop you. We all believe in you, kid. Make us proud.”

“But what if I mess up?” Katrina asked. “What if I fail?”

“What if, what if, whatever!” Spanky rejected. “There’s more than enough uncertainty in this world and the next and the one after that. If there’s one thing I know, is those uncertainties will drag you down to the ground and bury you if you let them. If there’s another thing I know, it’s that you’re too strong to let them do it. If want you really want what you’re going after, then the answer is ‘Yes I will.’ Yes you will break through. Yes you will overcome. Yes you will not be stopped! Now say it!”

“Yes I will,” Katrina said.

“Louder!” Spanky goaded.

“Yes I will!” Katrina shouted.

“Will you succeed?” Spanky asked.

“Yes I will!”

“Will you keep going no matter what stands in your way?”

“Yes I will!”

“Will you be the greatest Chimera Knight ever!?”

“Yes I will!”

“Will you give me fifty bucks!?”

“Nice try!”

“Will you be indomitable!?”

“I will dominate!”

“Then thy will be done!” Spanky declared. “Go forth, and show them what you will do!”

“I will! Thank you, Great Grandpa Spanky!”

Katrina leapt forward to hug Spanky, only to find blood mixing with the water already soaking into her clothes from the showering mists. She teetered uncertainly on the edge of the skiff, but managed to find her balance.

“I’m just a figure in the mist, kid,” Spanky’s voice said as it faded. “But if you want to show your gratitude, toss that steer into the pool.”

Katrina obliged and the carcass sank into the recesses of the pool. She rowed back to shore, with a more than satisfied look on her face.

“So, are you ready to go now?” Jaime asked.

“I’m ready to kick some ass,” Katrina replied with utmost certainty. She strode right past her friends and marched out of the chamber.

ExFic 10: Going Underground

“You can’t be serious,” Rion said.

“Oh, I’m serious,” Katrina argued.

Rion and Katrina looked at the webpage again. When Jaime had gone to work and left her laptop computer behind, Katrina had logged onto the MuWiNet (Municiple Wireless Network) and began a search for the local underground fighting championships. Didn’t take her long to find one, and it didn’t take much longer to find one advertising an “Amateur Night” with a hefty amount of prize money.

“Is this for real?” Rion asked. He put a finger to the computer’s touch pad and began investigating the site. “Not a hoax site or something?”

“Nearest I can tell, this thing’s legit,” Katrina explained. “Well, as legit as underground fighting goes. Map Search confirmed that the arena exists, or at least the arena‘s front.”

“So you want us to fight beneath the ground?” Wearwolf inquired, cocking his head to the side in an attempt to understand what the conversation is about.

“No, well, not in that sense, necessarily,” Katrina replied. “By underground, we mean ‘secret.’ The people who run this place don’t want the authorities finding out about it.”

“There’s a good reason for that, you know,” Rion interjected. “This is totally illegal, not to mention dangerous. The people who watch this stuff expect blood, and the promoters aim to deliver. You could get hurt, or killed.” Realizing he forgot something, he added, “Or even arrested!”

“These guys can’t be much worse than Lord Unnecessary Violence,” Katrina said confidently. “And I got by that biker punk all right.”

“That ‘biker punk’ would’ve slapped a control collar on you if Berg hadn’t shown up,” Rion argued. “I’m sure if he was here right now, playing mentor like he said he would, he’d totally agree with me.”

“Well, he’s not, is he?” Katrina pointed out, shutting down the computer and closing it. “If I’m going to be a Chimera Knight, I should prepare with some combat experience, and we need the money, so why not kill two birds with one stone?”

“Because this stone will kill you?” Rion contended. Gesturing emphatically, he added, “And did I mention this is illegal? If the Chimera Knight Academy finds out about it, they’re not going to like it. And we wouldn’t need the money so bad if you could hold a job for two seconds without being fired for insubordination or reckless behavior.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t like any of those jobs, anyway,” Katrina said dismissively.

“You don’t have to like them,” Rion fumed. “You just have work until they pay you. For Lorne sakes, Katrina, we only have to be here for two…”

“You just don’t get it, do you!?” Katrina exploded.

“Get what?” Rion reacted. “That you’re being an idiot? You’re suicidal? That you’re throwing your life away for money?”

“You know what? I don’t have to take this,” Katrina said, throwing her hands up. “I’m an adult now, and I can make my own decisions.”

“So why don’t you start acting like one!?” Rion accused.

Katrina punched Rion. Hard. She sent a right hook across his jaw that nearly knocked him off his feet and left a fist-shaped mark on his cheek. He looked back at her with a bewildered look in his eye.

“You hit me,” Rion said, slowly processing what just happened. “What the Hell? You hit me!”

Katrina’s eyes darted about the scene. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. She didn’t just do that, did she? But there was Rion, cradling a bruise on his cheek. If this argument continued, she was going to beat him senseless. No, she couldn’t do that. Could she? It sure felt like she could. Her blood boiled as if Rion’s voice was the bane of her existence.

No, that was wrong. She couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to. She darted past Rion and out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

Rion sighed and walked over to the fridge. Going after Katrina now would be pointless. He took some ice from the freezer and put it against his cheek. Even if he wasn’t afraid of what Katrina could do to him right now, she wasn’t in a mood to be communicated with. Hopefully, she’ll clear her head and come back before it becomes a bloody smear.

The sound of whining and scratching drew his attention to the front door. Wearwolf wanted out. Rion figured he either wanted him to go after Katrina or go walkies. Hard to tell, since only Katrina could talk to Wearwolf and, frankly, Rion wasn’t in a mood to do leave.

“I’m not going out,” Rion said flatly. He set the ice down as it became too unbearable to touch. “Just try to use the toilet or something. At least the bathroom will be easier to clean.”

Wearwolf growled under his breath. Would it be too much to just open the door and let him out? Opposable thumbs aside, he didn’t need Rion for anything. But how could he communicate his need to leave the apartment without Katrina to translate?

Wearwolf trotted over to the couch and sniffed it in full view of Rion.

“Oh, no,” Rion said, his eyes widening. “You wouldn’t…”

Wearwolf lifted a leg.

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“Lousy, stupid Rion making lousy, stupid sense,” Katrina muttered under breath as she marched down the street.

“Katrina!”

Katrina turned to see Wearwolf galloping down the street to her.

“Go away,” Katrina said firmly. “I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.”

“I am certain you did not wish to harm Rion,” Wearwolf said. “And I am just as certain that you will not harm me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Katrina asked.

“Because I am a big, scary wolf that could easily eat your face off if provoked,” Wearwolf stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, well, I can still run,” Katrina said.

“I’ve caught faster prey,” Wearwolf countered.

“But I can still climb,” Katrina argued. “And I don’t mean trees, neither. I’ll climb up the nearest fire escape and hide out on the roof.”

“Then I shall take the elevator,” Wearwolf said.

“Ha! Elevators don’t go to the roof,” Katrina replied triumphantly. “You’d have to take the stairs, which are usually behind doors. And that’s assuming they let stray, untagged pets into the building. Check and mate.”

“Touché,” Wearwolf commended.

“Bingo,” Katrina accepted.

“You sunk my battleship,” Wearwolf added.

“Yachtzee,” Katrina agreed.

They continued walking along in silence. It was a while before either of them spoke. Wearwolf wanted to make sure Katrina had enough time to cool off.

“Rion had some valid points,” Wearwolf said. “This underground fighting sounds dangerous, and I do not like the idea of you risking your life unnecessarily like this either.”

Katrina sighed and said, “Don’t make me gut you.”

“I am serious, Katrina,” Wearwolf insisted. “There is no sense in fighting battles like this when we can get what we need some other way.”

“Of all people, I thought you would understand,” Katrina said. “I need to do this. Nothing else feels right.”

“I understand that,” Wearwolf said. “All of these small jobs you have been taking do not give you any sort of satisfaction. But no one is asking you to take a permanent position. Right now, all we need to do is get by. It is easier to catch fish in a stream than it is to chase them up a waterfall.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Katrina conceded, shoving her hands into her pockets. “But this is what I want to do, or at least it’s close to it. But I need to know if I can handle this. I mean, if I couldn’t take Lord Unnecessary Violence, how can I handle larger prey? If I can take down at least one guy in that arena, I’ll know I can handle being a Chimera Knight.”

“But if you don’t win, or maybe even if you do, you may never be a Chimera Knight,” Wearwolf rationalized.

Katrina stared off into the distance. Wearwolf had a point. The underground was all risk. The payoff would be good, but would she really be able to enjoy the rewards?

“I thought being a Chimera Knight meant being a hero,” Wearwolf continued. “A champion of justice. Is that not what Chimera Knighthood means to you? Or does it mean beating up bad guys?”

“It’s not like that,” Katrina argued. She put her hands behind her head and stared up at the tops of buildings and lamp posts. It wasn’t like that, was it? She wasn’t so insecure that she needed to beat up people to feel good about herself, right? No. She didn’t go around picking fights before she met Wearwolf, and it certainly wasn’t his influence making her want to fight people now. So maybe she had been a little aggressive at times, even dominative. That doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. Does it?

“Then what is it like?” Wearwolf demanded. “Fame? Glory? Power? Is that what you want to have? Those things mean nothing, at least to me. When I saw you, I did not think of you as a means to an end. You were not a stepping stone to something greater. You were just a girl alone in the woods and in need of help, and I gave it to you freely. I ask nothing in return but your friendship. Maybe that is not enough for you, but it is more than enough for me.”

“You’re not just a thing to me, you know that,” Katrina said choosing her words carefully. Her arms and her head dropped as she stopped in her tracks. “I just… I just want this so bad, and nothing even comes close. I just don’t want to be some schmoe, you know what I mean?”

“So, what is wrong with being some schmoe?” Wearwolf inquired. He sat down in front of Katrina, looking up into her face. “I do not mind it, as long as we have friends. Katrina, I do not want you to get hurt, but I am certain you will just run off and do it anyway regardless. So I will go with you.”

“You mean it?” Katrina asked, crouching down. “You really want to do this?”

“No,” Wearwolf answered. “But I would sooner die by your side than let you get yourself killed.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Katrina admitted with a smirk. She reached over and scratched Wearwolf behind the ear. “Except, thank you.”

ExFic 9: Working it in Tekton

“Not exactly the Hilton, isn’t it?” Rion noted as he entered the apartment. It was nice, for the money, which meant not being in a state of total disrepair was just about the only thing the hovel had going for it. The line between the kitchen and the living room was indistinct at best, and the whole thing couldn’t have been much larger than a couple square meters. There was a second door across from the entrance, right next to a couch, conveniently located by the refrigerator and opposite an electric stove. The apartment’s only window displayed a breathtaking view of a brick wall.

“What is a ‘Hilton’?” Wearwolf inquired as he and Katrina followed Rion into the room.

“A lot preferable to this,” Katrina replied. She had bought a newspaper on the way to the apartment and was keeping it under her arm. “Then again, just about any lot is preferable to this.”

“It has to be better than sleeping in the woods,” Jaime said, bringing up the rear. “At least there’s a roof over our heads.”

“Yeah, but there was a lot more space in the woods, and we didn’t have to pay rent,” Katrina argued. The three of them set their backpacks down, effectively cutting the open floor space in half.

“I see what you mean,” Jaime conceded. “But it’ll only be a couple months. You can handle that, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Katrina said. She opened the second door to find a half bathroom. Not, however, the half with the sink, which currently resided under the apartment‘s only window. “Well, here’s the bathroom, but no sign of a bedroom.”

“Maybe the couch folds out,” Rion suggested as he opened the refrigerator. “Looks like we’ll need to buy food, too. There’s nothing in here but baking soda, and it’s half empty.”

“Looks like the couch is just a couch,” Jaime reported, having pulled the cushions off the couch. “Doesn’t look like there’d be room for a bed, anyway.”

“Maybe it’s got one of those beds that folds up into the wall,” Katrina said as she examined the fourth, and so far unaddressed, wall. “Those are always cool.”

“Wilson probably just uses this place when he’s too tired to go home,” Rion surmised. “All he’d need is the couch.”

“No, there’s a groove here, see?” Katrina said, pointing to the wall. She slid the newspaper into her back pocket and started groping at the groove. “I think I can slip my fingers in and give it a good tug…”

“I still think this apartment’s too small for one,” Jaime warned.

“Well, if I were writing this story, I’d at least put in one of those wall-beds,” Katrina said. Putting a foot on the wall for leverage, Katrina gave the wall a mighty yank and managed rip out a chunk of the wall.

“Holy crap, Katrina!” Rion exclaimed. “You just broke the fourth wall!”

“Aw, geez,” Katrina said. She immediately tried to fit the chunk back into the hole she tore it from. “I can fix it, I can fix it.”

Seconds after Katrina slid the chunk into place, it fell into the space behind the wall. She reached in to try and pull it back out, but it had fallen too far.

“Well, there’s no fixing it now,” Jaime said with a sigh. “All we can do now is pretend it never happened and hope Professor Dark doesn’t find out.”

“That said,” Katrina began as she spread the newspaper on the floor, “Since Wilson Dark will be paying you in robot parts, your brother and I will have to get jobs to pay for such luxuries as food and utilities. Of course, that’s assuming Rion can get a job without a MultiPet.”

“Stupid child labor laws,” Rion remarked. “Speaking of laws, you might want to get a leash for Wearwolf. There might be leash laws in effect in this town.”

“A leash?” Wearwolf inquired.

“It’s sort of a tether, to make sure you don’t get too far from me,” Katrina explained.

“I know what a leash is, Katrina,” Wearwolf said. “I am expressing incredulousness. I am not some excitable pup that would dart off into the street without warning. I am a mature individual, and I should not have to suffer the indignity of having my neck tied to a post to keep me from hurting myself.”

“It’s not a big deal, all right?” Katrina argued. “It’s just to keep John Law from making our lives harder.”

“He doesn’t like it, does he?” Rion noted.

“Huh? Oh, right,” Katrina replied, just now remembering her friends didn’t understand wolf-speak. “Yeah. It’s sort of a matter of pride, like how you’d rather not have to wear a diaper.”

“Boy, do I remember the fuss you put up last time,” Jaime reminisced.

“I didn’t want to be Baby New Year again, okay?” Rion argued.

“Yeah, that stopped being cute once you hit twelve,” Katrina agreed. “Although,” she added, turning to Jaime with a smirk, “You, on the other hand, were absolutely adorable.”

Jaime blushed, covering herself uncomfortably with her arms, and said, “Can we change the subject? Wearwolf still needs a leash.”

“I’ll just use some rope,” Katrina said dismissively. “No problem.”

“There is a problem, because you’re not going to make me wear a leash,” Wearwolf argued.

“Fine, I’ll wear the leash, and you can lead me around,” Katrina countered. “Happy?”

Rion raised his hand and asked, “Can I have a turn walking you?”

“Only if you wear that diaper,” Katrina replied.

“Wearwolf will need a collar and tags, too,” Jaime interjected. “You know, in case he does get lost.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Wearwolf replied.

“I doubt animal control will trust you to be on your own,” Katrina said. “But we can focus on that later. Money is our most immediate concern. We need to scour these want ads and find a job.”

“You know, I could use my laptop and check for job listings on-line,” Jaime noted. She opened her backpack and retrieved the slim, black, portable computer. “I can probably tap into the Municipal Wireless Network from here and surf the web.”

“Yeah, but I already bought the newspaper,” Katrina said, scanning a page.

“Well, I suppose I could skip the newspaper’s site,” Jaime said as she booted up her laptop and loaded the web browser.

“Oh, Garfield,” Rion said with a chuckle as he read the funny pages. “You’re such a timeless classic.”

Jaime and Katrina gave Rion an annoyed stare before Katrina yanked the funny pages from his hands and replaced them with the classifieds.

“Read,” she commanded, eliciting a disappointed groan from Rion.