//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 - Whoo! Value Menu Time!!! // Story: No, I Don't Want to Face Overwhelming Odds (I Just Want to Sleep) // by Muggonny //------------------------------// Winter gasped and opened her eyes. Only, that wasn’t helpful. Darkness and darkness all-encompassing, everything that could be seen. She searched her surroundings and nearly lurched out of her coat when she found Claire floating beside her. “Ahh! Claire, where are we!?” Claire snaked around Winter’s head and scanned the area. “It appears that Rakasha linked his subconscious with Pink Scorch’s to bring us into his mind.” “Wait, so we’re trapped!?” “I do not know. Rakasha is not known to be a trickster. If I am right, then he has brought us here for a reason. If I am wrong, then he may consume Pink Scorch.” Winter blinked. “Holy fuck. Are we gonna die? I’m not even twenty-five yet, how am I going to finish my fanfiction backlog!?” A voice echoed across the darkscape. Be not afraid. Winter searched, although she already figured that attempting to find the voice’s origins was impossible. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to do that when you’re trapped in the mind of an evil demon hellbent on destroying us mere moments ago!” Good, Evil, I am beyond simple adjectives. These concepts do not exist in my vernacular. I have been alive for eons, almost since the beginning of this land. I made up many of what mortals these days call ‘folklore.’  The darkness dispelled like clouds, and stars blinked across a night sky. They stood upon violent ocean waves, before a towering obelisk darker than vantablack itself. When Winter looked up, she realized that it wasn’t an obelisk, but a being.  It had two white holes for eyes, and when it looked down at her, it cast a light as if they were lighthouse beacons. Suddenly, both she and Claire were being lifted into the air by a giant hand that brought them to head level. Winter held a hoof over her eyes, the light devouring them. I was the Umibōzu. A creature that ruled the ocean and caused ships to wreck. With one eye closed, I would give the impression of a lighthouse and lead ships to where I want them. From there, they would be my playthings. Toys of my desire. Sailors feared me, while the ocean merely existed around me. Bright cracks ran through the giant, and piece by piece its shell deteriorated until it was replaced by a skeleton. Below, in place of the violent waves, were roaring fires taller than many mountains. I was the Gashadokuro. A creature known for stalking people in the night and devouring them whole. I never appreciated the taste of flesh, but the terrified look on their faces amused me.  He shrunk down in size, although he did not put them down. They did not fall, they did not float. It was a feeling of high. As he became smaller, they followed his visage downward, the fire below receding back into the familiar darkscape. Winter was tempted to ask what sort of drugs could replicate this feeling, although she wasn’t so keen on making jokes when a Celestia-fucking demon of legend was sucking on her face IRL. Eyes appeared all around. They took on many shapes and sizes along with colors. It felt… awkward, in a creepy sense. Like they could see her from every angle.  I am a being of creation, I am a being of destruction. Many legends about me are not about me. I choose what I am and carve my legacy. Only, that was a thousand years ago, before my imprisonment. Now, I am weaker. The King of Tartarus chained me beneath his palace and siphoned my power. I am a pathetic vessel of what I once was. I am a legend in your eyes, but in reality, I am on par with the lowest-caliber demon. I am, and now I was. “Um, hey,” Winter budded hesitantly. She punched the air awkwardly, as one would punch the shoulder of a friend they’re trying to warm up to, or as one would punch a baby not too hard for the sake of practice. “I hate to break the sob story, but what’s with all the lore? You still haven’t explained why we’re here.” The eyes faded into black, silence stinging for several agonizing seconds. Claire wrapped a tendril around a lock of her mane and tugged. “Winter, watch your words! He might be weaker but we are still in the presence of greatness.” A dark chuckle ran across the scape.  Your ignorance in my presence proves my obscurity. A thousand years ago, I would have consumed your soul just for uttering my name wrong. But I am different now.  I have no means to kill you. Your mortal vessel is safe with me while we talk. To tell you the truth, I am hungry. It is not a normal hunger that can be satiated through typical means. My vessel is deteriorating, a byproduct of being summoned to the mortal realm. The power I sustain cannot hold it forever. I require souls. Demon souls. The Parasite you call ‘Claire’ is as pure as they come. Although she is classified as a low-tier demon, she is ripe with power. However, I was desperate to think that power would be enough. I require a soul of the highest caliber, and you have proven yourselves more than worthy of this quest I intend to bestow. Winter clenched her eyes shut, knowing that if she wasn’t a subconscious manifestation of herself at that very moment, she’d feel the brink of a headache coming on. “Wait, wait, hold up… You want us to… collect souls for you? Not, like, the easy kind of souls? The mega-hard souls that require punching?” I know it is a task that seems impossible, but the reward is more than worth your while. You will have my respect, and be given the Mark of Rakasha. This ensures you with my protection wherever you— “Nah, I’m good.” Go—wait, what? “Listen, dude, you kinda just came along and started bothering me. If you want to restore your power to what it once was, that’s fine by me. But I have my own things going on, like finding a new job because you trashed my workplace.” No response. “Hey, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go now. Rent is due at the end of the month, and I need to start looking.” Rakasha waited a few seconds before responding. I can… help. “What? Are you gonna be my reference? While ‘Rakasha, Mega-Powerful Demon of Legend’ would look fancy on a resume and all, I don’t think hirers will be in on the gag.” I can take on any shape. I can give the appearance that everything is in place so that you can still work. Winter folded her ears and looked at the “ground” awkwardly. “Right, so, uh, can you show me?” *** Everything simply melted into place.  Pink Scorch had awoken in the middle of the store, to the feeling of Rakasha’s goopy form trailing down her body. He absorbed into the linoleum, auburn flesh sprawling out, encroaching and enveloping the surrounding area until the place looked like a hellpit straight out of a video game about massacring demons, which she couldn’t remember the title of. She briefly wondered if he could turn into a device that could run it but felt it was the wrong time to ask. The auburn color shifted, and he took on the appearance of the very environment that he enveloped. Both the door and windows were repaired. The shelves were now upright and merchandise no longer littered the floor. The entire layout of the store looked exactly how it did before the fight. Some part of her was a little astonished.  Did he somehow memorize the entirety of the store’s layout? she thought. In a flash, Pink Scorch was gone. In her place was Winter Heat, with Claire hovering closely beside her head. Winter sped-walked around the store in an excited frenzy, only now realizing the sheer anxiety she was holding down about losing her job. Everything looked perfect. A few of the canned goods were out of place, but everything looked to be identical, all the way down to the crack in the tile that extended outward from beneath one of the shelves. Only, now, it looked like a dickbutt. Kinda. To her it did.  Winter responded the only way she knew how. She stood before the register, took everything in, folded her ears, slumped her posture into what looked between shitting on the floor and being shocked into astonishment, and let out a simple, “Huh.” She shivered when a tendril slithered up her leg and across her face, taking on the form of a small blob atop her head.  The repairs have been made. Will you carry out my request? “I don’t know. How do we know you can be trusted?” I was sucking on your face. You don’t think I could have swallowed you whole? I simply chose not to. “Yeah, but you need us to help restore your power since you can’t fight a bunch of ultra-powerful demons yourself. How do we know you won’t try anything the moment you have your power back?” Silly horse girl asking silly questions. I might be ruthless by history standards, but I am also generous. Generous to all who honor my name! You will be gifted righteously, become thane to my throne, and dareIsayit, you’ll be my ‘friend,’ for I am very lonely and don’t have many. I didn’t have many before my imprisonment, but time in reclusion has led me to be socially awkward and co-dependent, so you have my word that you will be safe. Winter tried to think about it, but her mind was blanker than… fuck, she couldn’t find a good comparison. However, a thought still occurred to her. “Hey, how come you could only speak in broken sentences before?” Social anxiety. “Huh. Checks out—listen, dude, I’m not sure about any of this. While I appreciate you fixing up the place, I’ve got other things to worry about.” Like what? “Good point, but something you need to know about me is that I don’t just go out and punch things because a mega-powerful underlord told me to. I sorta just… walk into it. Like, I punch stuff when it’s convenient to me.” What do you mean? “Like, okay okay so—like… I’m trying to come up with the words. You know like, how, like, you have social anxiety, well, I have that too plus ten, and I’m already anxious that my life is, like, in shambles, and I’m on the spectrum plus ADHD brain, and, like, if I focus too much on doing Pink Scorch biz, I’m just gonna get overwhelmed, so I’m trying to liiiiiike, uhh… focus on not stressing the fuck out. Like, today I came into work because my boss was angry—” She slapped herself on the noggin. “Ahh! Fuck, you see, ADHD brain. I meant to say that I came in late for work and my boss was pissed, which made me pissed because in a way I knew he was right to be pissed, and while I want to come in on time more, it’s hard because I get the compulsion to use as much as my free time as possible, and I get antsy when I have to stay late.” She cleared her throat and continued, her tail absentmindedly swaying. “Which I was honestly fretting over with that whole mess just now, but you fixed it, so I’m sorta calm, but now that I’m talking about these problems, everything I’ve been holding down is bubbling up. You know, like, how when you eat too much and need to vomit? It’s like that, yeah. I think these problems root all the way back to high school—” WILL YOU SHUT UP!? Winter stopped mid-sentence and realized that the blob on her head was wriggling with annoyance. “Alright, sheesh, I was just opening up!” Listen, I am desperate! If you want my word that you will be okay, then there it is! I am not powerful enough to face this challenge alone. You, however, can face odds many cannot. Please, just tell me what you want!? Winter scratched her head. “Uh… I could use some money.” That’s it!? I’m capable of gifting you with such great powers, and you seek currency? Her posture slacked, and her ears folded. “I just got money on my mind, bruh! So... how much you got?” A sigh. Six-fifty.  A delighted feeling washed over Winter. Her ears straightened and her tail flicked. “Aight, I’m in!” R-really? That’s all it takes? Well, alright. Just let me know when you want to begin. “Sure, but first…” She turned, walked around the counter, and sat before the register. “I need to finish my shift, and after, we can talk while I’m eating my value meal.” *** “Making my way downtown, going fast,” Winter drummed her hooves against the table. “Making autistic noises with my mouth because I can’t remember the lyrics!”  After clocking out for work two minutes early—because Celestia forbid she could survive those extra two minutes with nothing to do—the three went down the street to Taco Bros’. She was just going to order two Mijo Chalupas with a side of Cinnamon Twists, but then she saw that their world-famous Pizzaco was back on the menu for a limited time, and Winter knew she’d only have a limited time to get it before it went away for a limited time. And while their Pizzaco was underwhelming, she had enough menstrual cravings to devour a child, but that’s TMI. So, she ordered the Pizzaco with a side of Cinnamon Twists for Rakasha and Claire. Nopony but Winter could see Claire, who was floating in wait above the seat in front of Winter. Rakasha, however, took on the form of the same homeless stallion that barged in on her not that long ago. She told the mare behind the counter that he was a Neighgerian refugee. And he was selling it! Unkempt dreadlocks, slouching in his seat, and he smelled like fart to top it all off! And not, like, a regular fart either. Like, if someone could capture their fart in a jar full of garlic and other pungent odors and let it sit for several months like an aged wine.  Winter was drumming and shaking her head side-to-side while kicking her hindlegs out like an antsy filly when Rakasha spoke up.  “So, I think we should discuss the details.” “Yeah, sure, whateve.” Winter continued doing autistic shit. “The problem is, I do not know where to start.” Winter stopped doing autistic shit and turned to the demon. “Wait, so you went through all of this trouble just to drop no deets? I need DEETS, bro!” Claire raised a tendril to Rakasha. “I think you should start by telling us how you were summoned.” “It happened… suddenly. I was in my workshop when I was pulled into a vortex. There was a crowd. I stood upon a great dais, surrounded by creatures with intriguing instruments. It looked to be a summoning ritual, but an uncommon one. The crowd was dark and therefore could not be seen, but the dais had lights shining down from the ceiling. From there, I could make out a hippogriff, a griffon, two ponies, and a thestral.” A unicorn mare wearing a visor with the Taco Bros’ loco walked up to their table, a tray of food hovering in front of her. “Here’s your food!” she said, placing it on the table in front of Winter. “Enjoy!” “Thanks!” Winter said.  After the mare walked away, Claire wrapped a tendril around the bag of Cinnamon Twists and held it out toward Rakasha. “Try one.” “A being such as I does not partake in the petty morsels of mortal food.” “Suit yourself.” She unhinged her jaw and sucked the Cinnamon Twists through a swirling vortex, greasy paper and all.  Winter picked up her Pizzaco and forgot how much of a challenge it was to eat. The Pizzaco was essentially a quesadilla, evident by the artery-clogging amount of mozzarella cheese. However, the overabundant marinara sauce made it droopy, so that every time she picked it up, cheese and tomato sauce drooped out. She took a bite anyway because first-world problems require first-world solutions. Cuz Celestia bless Equestria, dammit. “So…” she took a moment to chew her food, then swallowed. “The way you’re describing it, it sounds like you’re talking about a stage. What else can you tell me?” “The hippogriff played a lyre with handles. When she strummed it, a red aura came bursting out. I could sense a demonic presence resonating within it. I believe it to be another Parasite.” Winter’s ears flicked, and she wiped her greasy mouth with the back of her hoof. “Another Parasite, huh? Guess I shouldn’t be shocked. Claire is the only Parasite I know, but… I guess it isn’t too uncommon for people to make soul pacts.”  “More common than you think. Based on the power this one holds, it will be a formidable opponent.”  “So, what else?” “The thestral. When I was making my escape, they binded me in place so that she could draw my blood with her fangs. There were…” He stopped suddenly as Winter gave a muffled scream as she burned the inside of her mouth, then continued slurping up cheese because she had yet to learn her lesson. “There were two ponies whom shared a soul. Another, a griffon. This one I could not get a good reading of, only that he’d bang on an arrangement of cylindrical ritual instruments with sticks.” Winter swallowed another mouthful of Pizzaco and belched. “Yeah, you’re describing a band, dude.” “They were indeed a group.” “Okay, I get it, you’re really old and not with the times, but things have changed. So, like, a ‘band…’ it’s still the same thing, only in a more modern sense it’s kindaaaa like, y’know, a group of people that play instruments and sing.” “Like a band of bards?” “Yeah, like that! Only louder and a lot less gay, unless it’s a boy band then gay stuff is bound to happen.” “What does being gay have to do with it?” Winter thought about it for a moment. “Ah shit, are you thinking about gay in the happy sense?” She put her half-eaten Pizzaco down and shifted her body so that it was facing the demon. “Okay, so, there’s the good kind of gay and bad kind of gay. The joke I made about boy bands was a double-entendre, so there’s a good example. The good gay is uhh… fuck how do I explain it to someone like you?” She rubbed her chin. “How do you feel about same-gender relationships?” “I do not care for relationships of any variety?” “So, you’re asexual.” Rakasha’s red eyes bore into hers, the very concept of life absent from them. “A sexual what?” “All you need to know is that’s the good gay. The kind where two creatures of the same gender do the hankey-pankey—maybe some kissing is involved, I don’t know. The bad gay is what you’d say to describe something lame. Like, a remake of your favorite movie. ‘That’s gay!’ Or to use it in a sentence, ‘Bro, take that headband off, it looks gay on you!’ Get me?” “No…” “Fucking hell, this entire conversation is gay.” She turned back to her Pizzaco to resume its devouring. “What else can you tell me?” “There was a word. It was all-encompassing. It surrounded the very room.” He paused for dramatic effect, which Winter respected. “That word was Underlord.” *** The air vibrated with the intensity of the music, reverberating throughout Babble’s body. She was used to nightclubs, only tonight, it was particularly irksome due to her dramatically-increasing migraine. Every thrum hammered a nail into her head, and every time someone bumped into her she’d say something along the lines of, “Move your fat ass, cunt!” Which, to her credit, was the nicest thing she could say.  Three days. Three. Fucking. Days. One day of prepping this, another day of prepping that, and another day of prepping because OH YEAH HER CLIENT CAN’T GET OFF HER ASS AND HELP HER WITH ANY OF THE WORK. Yeah, yeah, it’s not like she had superpony abilities and could magically cobble together black magic rituals/rock concerts out of thin air. And yeah, yeah it was her job to do it, but everything that was being asked of her was well beyond her pay grade. She’s had the privilege of working with Death Metal Bands, Emo Bands, and weird, obscure bands with strange names like Kumquats, or Anal Clenchers.  But this? This was top-of-the-line I WANT TO SCREAM work. For example: client wants dead chickens? She can manage dead chickens! Heck, she’d cut their heads off herself. But trying to rent out the entirety of Prometheus Plaza to summon a demon lord straight from Tataraus? How the fuck was she supposed to cobble an eight-foot by eight-foot pentagram out of the period blood of virgins? YOU FUCKING ORDER IT. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND IS SELLING THEIR PERIOD BLOOD ONLINE!? Also, Mistress Marvelous’s bath water was available at a discount. Babbles arrived in front of a bouncer, who was a griffon of the stereotypical kick-your-ass variety, complete with the black T and indoor sunglasses. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Are you a VIP?”  She slapped him in the face and, having to stand at the tip of her hooves to do so, pressed her nose against his beak. “My client owns this fucking place, so are you new or are you braindead?” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Sorry, Miss… Babbles, is that right?” He moved aside. “You can go right in.” She marched through without babbling another word.  The VIP area was the closest the nightclub could get to “comfy.” The music was still loud and obnoxious, but at least she didn’t have that epileptic strobe light to deal with. She still found it irksome how occasionally the light would shift between colors, although only when they were bright.  She actually kind of liked the purple light. She walked down a hallway and into an open area with a bar with much fewer ponies than there were on the main floor. Upon approaching the bartender, Babbles immediately understood how low the hiring standards were. It was a thestral with large, spikey hair, pierced ears, choke collar, and a deadpan stare that read, “Can’t get fucked, how can I help you?”  Babbles made it her duty to say as few words to her as possible. “Ay, where’s that tall, feathered-Phoenix borne from the assflakes of Celestia’s acne at? I want to have a few words with her!” She didn’t move. Nor did she budge. Her eyes simply shifted so that Babbles understood there was still a modicum of life left within her. “She’s at booth six. Teaching one of the strippers Rock, Paper, Scissors.”  Babbles stomped off without another word. She scanned the numbers above the alcoves on the other side of the room before her eyes landed on “6.” In the alcove sat a hippogriff with her hindlegs propped against the table, a double-neck guitar leaning next to her. A pony wearing a tight leather corset and stockings to match was staring at her hoof in confusion. The hippogriff noticed her coming up almost immediately. Tyranny waved. “Babs! Welcome love, take a seat and smoke a fag with me! I was just teaching the strippers how to play Quartz, Parchment, Shears.” Babbles stood her ground, feeling like a stern mother with the stare she was giving her. The stripper looked at her hoof in confusion as it bobbed in synchronization with Tyranny’s.  “Alright,” Tyranny said. “Say it with me…” The pony and the hippogriff spoke in unison. “Quartz, Parchment, Shears!” Tyranny extended her fingers out and covered the pony’s hoof with her talon. “Oh, look at that! I win again.”  “If you’re done…” Babbles muttered. “I need to speak with you.”  Tyranny raised her talon and flicked her fingers at the pony. “Alright, bug off will ya? I need to talk to me mum.” Babble’s tail flicked in frustration upon being called “mum,” and she had to refrain from yelling out then and there. She just remembered what her therapist told her.  “It’s okay to let it all out, just don’t traumatize the strippers.”  Before the pony could go, Tyranny tapped her on the flank and said, “Grab us a bottle o’ rum, alright love? I don’t care what type, just something that will lubricate the stick up ol’ Bab’s arse.”  Babbles turned red behind the ears.  She gritted her teeth.  Just do it for the strippers… She waited until the pony got far away. She waited until the pony was further away. She waited until the pony was even further away. A little bit further… further… fur— “What the FUCK are you doing on your ass while I’m moving the Earth getting your show together!? First, it’s, ‘Oi Babs ya grimy bloke, can ya whip up a show at Prometheus Plaza? Ain’t like it’s booked this time o’ year, alright? Thanks, love.’ Then, you want a pentagram drawn out of period blood. PERIOD BLOOD. And then after putting questionable things into my search history, you ask me to arrange the show for this Friday. Friday. While Countess Colortoura of all ponies is making her new tour debut right FUCKING there.” Tyranny wasn’t listening. Or she was. Babbles had since learned that the hippogriff was a master of selective hearing. She was plucking away at the cords of her guitar, looking like nothing in the world mattered. “Are you even listening?” “Hey, uh, Tyr…” Babbles turned to see the pony hugging a bottle of rum to her chest, a hesitant look on her face. “I got the rum. You want me to just…” Without another word, she placed the bottle on the table and scurried off. Babbles swiped it up, popped the lid off, and drank from it as if it were a faucet that needed clogging. It tasted like shit and burned her throat like holy shit, but her muscles relaxed.  Slamming it back down on the table with a sigh, she slid into the booth across from Tyranny, undid her tie, and pulled the bottle close. Her cheeks were warm, and she was sure that they were covered in a harsh red blush, but she didn’t care so long as she had her medication (alcohol) nearby. Tyranny leaned forward and reached across the table for the rum, but Babbles hugged it to her chest, giving the hippogriff a thousand-yard stare mixed with sky-grumbling ferocity. “I think it’s time I told you about limits,” Babbles began. “Not that you know anything about them. You’re so lazy, you haven’t even found ‘em yet. Not that you’d care as you have the response time of a tortoise.” She slammed the bottle back against her lips and took a few more swigs. When she pulled back, she let out a series of coughs and her chest burned, although she was intent on diving back in if need be.  “Now, I’ve slept a total of twelve hours out of the last seventy-two. That’s about eighteen coke lines for you. You can count, right? Nod so I know you’re with me.” Tyranny shook her head. “Smart ass. Now, I don’t need to explain to you why that isn’t enough sleep. You know why that isn’t enough sleep, and you know that the reason why I haven’t gotten enough sleep is because your requests have become increasingly impossible to meet. Find the period blood of virgins? I’ll piss it if I could! Get an entire stage crew together in preparation for the next show? I’m your mare! Hey, I’ll run the lights myself!” She placed the bottle back on the table and leaned forward. “Listen baby, when you hired me, I promised I’d move the Earth to make sure your every demand is met. Put on a show in Prometheus Plaza? A near fortuitous feat, but I'll gladly accept your challenge! But now I’m convinced you think I’ll actually move the Earth if asked. Heh, and get this, if it was within my range of abilities, I would! I would slap Celestia’s ass until it was a red giant if it meant getting her to do the job for me.” She cleared her throat and took a moment to calm herself. “But Celestia’s ass is nowhere within reach of my hooves, so I can’t move the Earth. In fact, I just barely managed to squeeze you into Prometheus Plaza. Do you know how tight that squeeze is? It’s a crevice. I managed to find the one crevice in a stone wall to fit you through, because I went through the effort of moving the Earth in your honor! So, after I went to Tartarus and back trying to schedule a show, what does my little feathered princess clad in denim come at me with?” She went quiet for a moment so that the next sentence would punctuate better. “A FUCKING HYDRA HEART. YOU CAN’T EVEN ORDER THAT. DO YOU SERIOUSLY EXPECT ME TO SLAY A HYDRA!?” She was now leaning over the table, practically standing on it. She waited for a response, the hippogriff strumming her guitar in the meantime. After a few seconds, Tyranny gave one. “Is it within your range of abilities?” Babbles instantly pictured steam rising from her head so harshly that she could make an omelet on it.  She sat back down. “Yes. It is. Provided that you get off your ass and help.” Tyranny ran her talon across the strings, the guitar making a distorted noise. “Say no more, love!”  Well. Alright. That was easier than I thought it’d be. Babbles sat upright and cleared her throat. Placed the bottle back on the table and pushed it towards the hippogriff, who swiped it up and took several gracious swigs.  “Aright,” Babbles went on. “So, onto business. Hyrdas are primarily tropical creatures but are known for making forests their domicile on occasion. After popping three Adderall and conducting four hours of research, I’ve found that their most populated region is the Shimmering Islands. Now, I can purchase us some flight tickets so that the both of us can fly out there and—” “No need, love,” Tyranny interrupted, earning a frown from Babbles. “There’s already one in the Maretropilis Aquarium.”  Babbles was almost in shock at the fact that she wasn’t bald from the amount of hair lost upon hearing that statement. “The Mare… tropilis… arium… FUCKING HYRDA!? ARE YOU SAYING YOU’D RATHER WE KILL A HYDRA IN CAPTIVITY!?” Tyranny set the guitar down beside her. Reaching into the breast pocket of her denim jacket, she produced a silver cigarette pouch. Flicking it open, she held it out toward Babbles. “Care for a fag, love? You look like ya need one.”  Babbles inhaled through her nostrils and blew out steam. She took one, placed it in her mouth, and allowed Tyranny to light it for her with a matchstick. After Babbles was taken care of, she placed one in her beak and lit it as well.  She took out a long drag, reducing a quarter of it to ash. Smoke escaped her mouth when she spoke like a dragon prepping a fireball. “Listen, love, ol’ Tyr hears your complaints and takes ‘em to heart, but methinks Bab’s is overthinking the lot of it. She’s thinking ‘how can I meet all of these ludicrous requests?’ when she should be thinking ‘What is the easiest way to achieve my goal?’ If Countess Colortoura is performing in Prometheus Plaza on Friday night, then simply give her a reason to not perform in Prometheus Plaza on Friday night.” “What are you getting at?” “Well, if you’re not one for the good ol’ mailing anthrax prank, then you could try other tactics like releasing all of the city’s rats all into one place so that a pop culture figure as tour de force as Countess Colortoura wouldn’t dare step hoof there.” She took an even bigger drag from her cigarette, reducing it by half. “Now, if you require the period blood of virgins, I don’t expect you to start pissing it on the spot. You don’t even need to go forth with the effort of finding it yourself. You have the contacts, and I own a nightclub.” The tip of her cigarette glowed a bright red-orange, and it was reduced to its last quarter. “Lastly, if you need to slay a hydra, then be smart about it. Are you going to go for the one in the wild with plenty of survival instinct to fight, or are you going for the one nearby that is tamed, which will save you the money, the time, and the energy?” She finished off the cigarette and snubbed it out on the table. “Babs, your problem is that when you’re presented with a dilemma, you’re willing to put in twice the amount of work that is needed of you. Nay, you should only have to put in the modicum amount. If you do not know what the modicum amount is, then I will show you myself. We will go to the Maretropolis Aquarium after hours, and we will slay the hydra. You will be through the lot of it, and you will learn that life isn’t all about deadlines. Alright, love?” Babbles considered her words carefully. Coming from Tyranny, they were infuriating. But, staring at the hippogriff and the colorful lights glaring off her sunglasses, the realization that she was tired overwhelmed her.  Three days. She wanted to sleep. The alcohol was making her tired. They had until Friday, and it was Tuesday. There was still more work to be done.  “Fine.” It was a simple word, but it was a bite. With that ‘fine,’ she communicated all that she needed to. ‘I will follow along with your stupid plan because you’re paying me, and I just want this to all be over with.’ Babbles took her half-finished cigarette and snubbed it out as well. “But just to make sure you don’t do anything idiotic, we’re bringing Stella.”