Game 03: Journalist 2

It was late in the night when I saw him coming, and I found my usual smirk twist into a grimace. He grinned at me, his slitted, golden eyes twinkling with smugness, and my frown deepened further.

“What do you want?” I snap.

He continues to grin at me, saying nothing. My left eye twitches. The blasted vampire usually has so much to say that I can’t get him to shut up.

“What. Do. You. Want?” I repeat, taking great care to pause emphatically between each word. Still, he grins at me. Clearly, that apprentice Shark of his is making his brain soft. He continues to approach me without a word, though his fanged smirk grows ever wider with each step. His scythes are sheathed behind his back, but both of us know that it means nothing – how anyone manages quick-draws with a double-headed scythe is beyond me, but he manages.

Still, he remains silent. He stops about a foot from me – far too close for comfort. Then again, the lack of room makes his scythes useless, so I try to take comfort in that, even as my dear Lisser nudges me with her head.

The silence hangs over us. My scowl darkens, and his grin grows so wide it’s unfair how it hasn’t split his face yet. Then he bursts into action, putting a leather-gloved hand on my shoulder as if it was there all along. I manage not to jump at the unwelcomed touch, but the mirth in his eyes tell me that he knows how much he has startled me.

“My dear friend, the great Lich King! Should I say, ‘long live the King’, or ‘stay dead the Lich’?” he gushes, patting me as if we were comrades. I glare. He continues to pretend that I’m not trying to kill him with my eyes.

“What… what do you want now?” I growl.

“Hmm…” he puts one finger to his mouth, as if thinking. I really need to find which obnoxious girl he’s getting these mannerisms from and introduce her to my fist…

“Well!” he chirps, “I need to restock on blood. Type O. Negative.”

I resist the urge to facepalm.

“You’ve been ordering that for the last fifty years,” I begin, impressed at the steadiness of my voice. A vein bulges at my temple, but I regain a tight, business-like smile. “Need I remind you how hard it is to get O-Negative blood?!”

He laughs. I swear he orders this solely to make my life miserable. Then he keeps chirping:

“Oh, old friend,” I scowl at the misnomer, “I do so appreciates your efforts on my behalf. It makes me so warm and fuzzy inside. Well, it would, if I were alive. Kind of like how a wife would, I guess. Hm, did you miss me, dear?”

That’s it. No more Mr. Nice Businessman.

I launch a punch at his face, while my Lisser spits venom from its tail, all while trying to gore him with its four horns. He dodges, vanishing into the shadows, and laughs. Again. Have I ever mentions how grating his new laugh is? It’s as if he copied some shallow, high-classed woman’s shrill giggles and remixed it with the yowling of a Lisser Cat Cub falling off a fence!

“And yes, I know, I’m doing it on purpose,” he adds. Drats. Is he reading my mind? Just because he has about half a millennium on me doesn’t me he should be running circles around me like this! No one messes with me like this! No one!

“Oh, by the way, you might want to check on your treasure. And the time.”

That stopped me in my tracks. I glance at my pocket-watch, scowling at the new crack my temper has put on it. Then I twitch. Has it been two hours already? It’s past dawn!

It is in this interlude that the sounds of cannons booming finally register in my mind. There is screaming above us too, and a lot of rowdy fighting. The subtle warming of some chambers indicate that large fires have spread sporadically across the city, and I swear I can hear a cry of “pirates!” here and there.

… Wait. Pirates?

Before words can form, my mind has already equated the thieves with treasure-hunting and therefore –

“MY MONEY!” I cry.

I take off towards my precious hoard, ignoring the near-maniacal laughter behind me. I’ve got to check it! What if those scoundrels have laid their filthy hands on it?! Don’t they know how many years of backstabbing and blood-dealing and black magic and conning and all those nasty things that parents warn their children away from it took me to gather that money?!

“THIEEEEEVES!” I screech, as I see that my once glorious mountain of gold is no more. A stray copper coin rolls to me and stops at my polished shoes, and I just know that the fates are out to get me today.

I whip around, hoping that the red-haired vampire followed me. At least I would have someone to take my anger out on. But over a century of… well, knowing one another (I hesitate to even call our relationship an acquaintanceship) has made him wise to my moods, and he has clearly gone to torment some other hapless soul.

“Darn it!” I curse. “I won’t forgive this…”

It is then that the rest of the Underground arrives – far too late to save my precious funds. I scowl at them all, and a few newer members of the Runeland Ravagers shrink back. Good. At least I’m still getting some respect around here. Runelands knows I’ve been owed at least that much.

“Men!” I shout, then pause, as a fair number of the group glare at me. I find myself shrivelling a little in my boots – never should it be said that a woman’s ire is not frightening. “And women!” There! A few pleased nods at last, though a few other women have now taken to glaring at me… will they ever be pleased?!

“The pirates have stolen our (my) treasure! We must get it back!”

A cheer. But no movement beyond that.

“… so,” I hint, but suffer no takers. “SO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH THOSE SCURVY-INFESTED THIEVES!”

At last! The sorry bunch of ruffians finally dash out from the former treasury and head above ground through the various tunnels connecting our lair to the surface. Some have chosen to move in pairs – a wise choice, one I probably should have suggested to them before I sent them scurrying like rats, but oh well.

I turn back to the empty room, and pick up the lonely coin. Well, time to get to work. The pirates will pay for this. That they will.

It takes a surprising amount of effort not to laugh at the unintended pun. Ah. I am so brilliant.

“No, you’re a moron,” chirped an all-too-familiar voice.

I turn around.

“VERAX!”