The first Loa called in any Voodou rite or rituals. He is the guardian of the crossroads. He is the trickster and the devil. He decides which Loa passes onto this plane and when. His symbol is the cross, his color is color is black, his food is rum. [1]
Never in a million years did I think that I'd be writing a story, much less my own story. I know people say I talk too much, but talking doesn't necessarily mean eloquence. I'm usually too busy jabbering to run any of what I'm saying past any brain cells. Suits me fine, no one pays attention to me when I'm babbling. The less notice I get the better.
So why am I bothering? Well, at first Catherine threatened to use me as target practice for her knives if I didn't. No biggy, I know she's got great aim. THEN she threatened to make me eat more of her soup. Just call me Shakespeare ma'am!
Still, memory is a weird thing and even mines not perfect. It's still hazy around the edges, and it's damned hard not to paint myself in a more favorable light or omit my worst moments. Writing this has been a weird game of double checking with everyone and filling the blanks. I'm trying to keep my reputation as never tells a lie Duo Maxwell, but time is a better thief than I'm a storyteller.
It was the 27th of October when all of this started. Not that I paid much attention to the date at the time. The only reason why I remember in particular was that it was the first day of the Festival. That's not a date you forget, even if your life /is/ getting turned upside down.
It was innocuous enough to begin with, if irritating. I was having a rather pleasant dream about various good looking guys and girls all intent on me and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I don't even remember much of the dream that butted in on that very entertaining haze, just a black cross and two blue eyes, cold and angry looking hyper imposed over it. A black rooster, a tornado, and then water, stretches and stretches of water. The dream was almost like some hack job at a still frame movie, just one image flashed quickly and jerkily over the next.
If it had been on screen I wouldn't have been impressed, but something about it in psuedo-reality of dreamland sent me from comfortably cuddled up in my hammock, to lying on the floor, glaring groggily at the traitorous netting.
"The damned thing hates me," I muttered, my dream forgotten in the face of a greater rival: rebellious bedding.
"It just don't know your there kid, you need to put on some weight." Howard's voice called out. A quick glance to the right revealed that gaudy the Hawaiian shirt. Even in the half-light of the Sweepers hangar it stands out. I wondered idly if it glows in the dark. I wouldn't be surprised. I love the old coot, but he really needed to get a new wardrobe. Seriously.
The man himself was slumped over the desk, picking through the financial logbooks for the Sweepers. For a little salvage, wreck, and repair group, we did pretty well by the standards of L2. At least well enough to warrant the paperwork I was happy NOT to do.
"Sure, start paying me more." I finally retorted. Giving up on my nap, I stretched out and pulled myself to my feet. I was a touch grumpy, but who isn't this early in the morning?
"I'll get a new hammock first. I'd get more work out of it for my money."
"When you get a hammock that can wield a two-eighths griply like I can, we'll be rich. The royalties alone from the freak show'd put us in the good life." Mustering up my strength and enormous willpower, I grinned. Hey, it's not as easy as it sounds without the luxury of caffeine in the morning. "So what's on the agenda today?"
"Hmm... I need you to run by Yuy's. We've got a few chips he'd be interested in. They are in your knapsack now." I was about to put my two creds in about how I felt about talking to Yuy (or rather AT Yuy) under any circumstances, but Howard just gave me The Look and talked over my protests. "Then swing by Hilde's and tell her that her trike will be done soon enough. You should enjoy that more." He gave me a lewd wink. I just rolled my eyes. There was no getting through to the old man sometimes.
"Then I'm free?"
"Hardly. I caught wind of an untouched warehouse near the underside. We gotta get there before the raiders. It might be the windfall we are hoping for."
"Awwww, come ON! The Festival is starting tonight. Nobody's gonna be out raiding. It can set for a party can't it?"
"That's exactly why we've gotta do it tonight. Less chance of running into hostiles; they are all gonna be out partying."
"Yeah, like I should be."
"Not now kid. Get going and we'll argue it later."
I sighed and threw up my arms. It was shaping up to be a rather bleak day indeed. There were still five more days of the Festival before the big night on All Saints Day, but I didn't want to miss out any of it. No help for it I guessed. I just grabbed my cap, my knapsack, and my shades and stormed out of our place and into the dusty streets.
Some days, I mused, it didn't pay to fall out of your hammock. The rising, artificial sun was sweltering, I was developing a first grade headache (probably from my oh so graceful awakening that morning), and I had just run face first into someone hard and boney while my mind was off in lala land.
Both of us went sprawling and the poor girl's groceries went airborne in a rather dramatic arch.
She was a short young girl, maybe a little older than I was. Her auburn hair was curled almost into a triangle shape around her face, and she was dressed for all the world like a gypsy. Mind you though, she didn't look like she'd had the carefree life of a gypsy; her frame was well muscled and lean, and I could see the lumps of several concealed knives around her person. In short, she just screamed "Hellcat."
Instantly, I jumped to my feet and was asking her if she was okay. I'm not a good Samaritan mind you, I just didn't feel like having this fiery looking Latino woman nagging me from here to Heero's place.
For a split second, she looked like she was going to do just that and then some. The fury on her face was pretty much near unmistakable. Then, oddly enough, she looked stunned and scared, just staring at me.
"What? Is my fly open?" I checked just to be sure. Nope, I was good. She just sat there, her mouth slightly open, and staring at me.
"Marassa," was all she said. I was getting the distinct feeling she wasn't all home at the moment. Either way, whatever she was babbling about was Greek to me.
"Um.... Miss....?" I waved a hand in front of her face, plastering on my most concerned look.
She seemed to recover herself, looking for all the world like kick-ass Queen of the Veldt again. Growl. Hiss. "Bloom, Catherine Bloom."
"Bond, James Bond." I deadpanned, holding out a hand to shake. She gave me a withering look and I relented. "Duo Maxwell at your service." I mimed tipping a hat to her. She raised one eyebrow in response and picked herself up off the road.
"At my service?" Her lips quirked up. I had a sinking feeling. "Well, then Sir Maxwell, you can start by helping my pick up the mess you made, before the street urchins get the rest of my groceries."
"I made? Look Ojo-san, it takes two to have a collision." I was about to expound on how I had nothing against any of the urchins getting some of the food as well, but she interrupted with a long, glitter adorned fingernail poked firmly into my nose.
"You can start with the fruit over there." She shifted her hand and pointed to a far corner. Her tone and stance brooked no argument, so I just sighed, feeling rather henpecked, snatched up a bag, and wandered over.
The whole task didn't take long, especially since the streets were empty this time of day, but it was the thought that rankled and made it seem more than it was. More rough than was necessarily polite, I pushed her bags back into her arms. She stumbled back a step.
I felt guilty just for the few seconds it took for her to level that hellcat glare at me again. She seemed to gather herself up and make some unfathomable mental decision. "Look Senior Maxwell," She started. I made the smallest of faces at her, I don't like to be reminded of my last name. "I would just as rather have nothing further to do with you ever."
I had to grin at that. "Likewise." I said cheerfully. She glared, but continued.
"BUT, I don't think I have a choice. I don't believe in coincidences." Okay she had lost me there. "Meet me tonight in the blue tent at the north side of the Festival, at the edge of the crater. My brother and I have a lot to tell you."
At that, with a flounce of her wild skirts, she turned sharply and stalked just as suddenly out of my life as she had crashed into it. Tonight ... tonight ... goddamn it!
"OI! ojo-san! I can't! I've got... stuff..." I trailed off, knowing there was no way on the Earth or the Colonies that she heard me. "Fine then," I mumbled to myself.
I wandered back off again, my mind really not on where I was going. Musing about Queen Bloom, mostly. I couldn't just ditch Howard. For as much as I complained, every raid we did was what kept us fed and off the streets like most of the others on L2. It was too important. But something in my stomach was unsettled by the little Latino. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. Well, she didn't want to see me, she said so herself. I wasn't fond of the idea either. I'd just help the old man tonight, and never have to see the weird lady again. Ja! Problem solved!
Humming now to myself, I cheerfully bounded along the road, until I remembered my destination. Heero's.... damn it... None of this was helping my headache. I braced myself for what was ahead and resigned myself to fate.
Heero's impassive face turned to Duo Intensity Glare of Death as soon as he realized who was at the door. Really makes a guy feel loved, ne? So maybe a shot him once or twice a while back. Doesn't everyone say Hi Neighbor like that?
"Nani o?" He growled at me. I gave him my best winning grin.
"Howard sent me." Well that was stupid. Since when did I pop by of my own willpower? "He's found a few new chips he thinks you'll like."
"Hn." He gave a curt nod and opened the door wide enough for me to slip through. Taking care not to brush against him, I ducked under his arm and inside the small apartment.
A blast of cool air hit me as soon as I stepped past the threshold. The air coolant system had been one of my best inventions considering the restricted parts I had to use. It worked by crank instead of consuming precious fuel or even more precious electricity. Pretty spiffy if you ask me.
So why did Heero have one? Well, just say it was my way of saying sorry for our less than cordial first meeting.
While I was musing, Heero was staring impatiently at me. No reminiscing for the unwelcome I guess. Remembering myself, I pulled off my knapsack and dug around for the little green chips. The bag holding the assortment was in the front pocket, not that it matters besides the fact it's the last place I always check.
Taking the proffered goodies, he gave me a grunt of satisfaction and disappeared into the back of his apartment to do whatever weird things electronic wizards do with those incomprehensible things. Give me gears springs and grease and I'm a happy Duo.
I let myself in and leaned against the shut door. Heero's apartment was never much to brag about, he took "Spartan" to all new levels. The front room was little more than an iron wrought table, a chair of the same and a dingy cloth cot.
The back room was still a mystery to me. I wasn't particularly curious though. My first attempts to see what was back there got me the business end of a rifle pointed up my nose, and I could respect that. Despite popular belief, I have a rather strong survival instinct.
I couldn't see anything comfortable to perch on (the cot was out of the question, and getting near the laptop on the table was about as unhealthy as venturing into the back room,) so I resigned myself to hanging out where I was.
I should mention now, that silence isn't my friend. At the moment, I was willing to do anything to get my mind off the lances of pain behind my temples. Even normally, I'm not really content unless SOME noise is filling the air around me, so perhaps you can excuse the sheer mind-boggling stupidity of what I did next.
"Oi, Heero," I called across the room. I didn't get any response, but I knew he was listening. "Howard's found what he thinks is a fresh raid on the underside. There might be some of that worthless plastic you like. Feel like joining us?"
I knew Howard wouldn't mind the extra hand, and he had always had a soft spot for both me, and gods only know why, Heero. Still, I was dooming myself to working next to the glacier himself all night.
"Hn," was the only response. For those of you that don't speak Heero-ese. It meant "sure."
"All right, be at the Sweepers at 8?"
"Ryoukai." Heero emerged from the depth of the back room and handed back the empty baggy. "All of them were good. Tell Howard I'll bring the payment myself tonight."
"What? Don't trust me?" I would have treated him to puppy eyes and innocence to make a saint sick, but my migraine was preempting any pantomime. If he responded to me at all, I didn't hear it over the ringing in my ears.
I staggered back a bit, every step jarring my head a little worse, and my range of sight was dissolving into a muddy black.... like strips of old film burning along the edges, devouring the flow of pictures. Each ungainly step backward caused a flash of bright white pain from ear to ear. So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of:
I passed out right there and hoped Heero was at least human enough to catch me.
TBC
Notes:
[1] Well that definitely reminds me of someone... While I'm here, Loa are spirits that are revered in the Voodoo religion. I'll explain more about them later.
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