Chapter Text
Kremy leaned back against the bar, sipping his drink. He looked around the casino floor, doing a bit of people watching. Garou's riverboat was busy this time of night; plenty of people eager to gamble away their savings and enjoy a little debauchery. He was off for the night, having just gotten back from a rather messy job the next town over. It had worked out in his favor, and he'd even made a little extra cash on the side, for his contract fund. Although he had been a little worried that Garou would be upset at him for taking longer than intended. But it seemed like his boss was in a good mood tonight, or at least too preoccupied to care about the little details, and Kremy wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Although he was curious. Garou had basically shooed him out of his office, instead of the normal critique Kremy would usually receive, even with a great success. Which meant that he had someone else to see or somewhere else to be. And judging by the fact that he was still aboard, Kremy figured it was the former.
So as much as he wanted to go home and get out of his Business Dress and get some sleep, he'd sat himself at the bar, ordered something to keep him awake, and watched the balcony for any sign of his employer.
The stakeout was not going well; he'd been here at least an hour after getting unceremoniously shoved out of Garou's office, and he hadn't seen a hair of the man. Nor had he seen anyone go in. He finished his drink with a sigh, pushing the empty glass toward the bar.
"Another?" the bartender croaked.
"Nah, I think I'm callin' it a night, Pierre," Kremy straightened his top hat, fixing his voluminous skirts as he pushed off the bar.
"Too bad," the bullywug replied, taking his empty glass to clean it. "You missed the show earlier."
That stopped him. "Show?"
Pierre nodded. "Some strange airship plopped down earlier this afternoon. Almost tipped the boat!"
Kremy frowned, his snout scrunching up. "What the hell was an airship doin' landin' on a riverboat?" Airships weren't exactly rare around big cities like Agwe, but they usually stuck to deliveries around the edges of town and away from private property. Especially property of someone as powerful as Garou.
"Delivering a package, seems like. Garou was awfully interested in it. Took him downstairs."
Kremy's interest was piqued. Maybe that's why Garou had been so dismissive. He had some new toy to play with. "Why downstairs?" Downstairs was the ship's brig, where Garou kept the people dumb enough to get caught pissing him off, until they could be thrown off the boat or Dealt With.
Pierre shrugged, flicking a towel over his shoulder. "Seemed real secretive 'bout the whole thing. Which is weird, considering the whole airship thing was kind of the opposite of a secret."
"Huh, well, interestin' as all that is, I'm tired, and it don't concern me, so I'll be seein' ya 'round, Pierre." He waved a gloved claw, sauntering toward the exit with a click of heels and a swish of skirts. "Won't catch me in any damp basement."
===
Kremy grumbled as he stepped in a puddle, lifting up his skirt to keep it from getting wet. He knew it was a dungeon, and the ambiance was meant to intimidate or depress those left in here, but really, a wet floor?
He continued on, steps brisk as he moved down the long hall. Walking past the guard on duty, he didn't stop, As the bullywug started to protest, he waved him off with a hand. Most of them knew better to question Garou's right hand, even if he personally knew he wasn't supposed to be here. He knew from experience that if you looked like you had business and looked angry, you can get in anywhere.
The place was mostly empty. Garou didn't suffer people who crossed him lightly; most never made it here and were taken out on the spot instead. So this was already an interesting special case. Something-- someone-- he was collecting. Kremy wanted to know who would be so interesting that he'd keep them, but not impressive enough to be treated like a guest. Especially someone he wouldn't tell Kremy about. Not that he knew everything about his employer's activities, but he liked to consider himself pretty high on the need-to-know list.
The only occupied cell was at the far end of the hall. Not close enough to the guard, so they obviously didn't expect a lot of trouble out of their prisoner. It suited Kremy just fine, being far enough away that the guard wouldn't hear them talk.
Kremy stepped up to the bars, arms folded across his chest. There was no light in any of the cells, only the hall itself, but light came from the inside regardless, an odd pink glow. Slumped against the wall beside the ratty cot, turned toward the bars, was a bugbear. He was tall, taller than any Kremy had ever seen, gangly and hunched in on himself, his long legs grazing his shoulders at the knees. The pink glow came from his back, where two glass canisters rose above his head, filled with some glowing liquid.
Immediately, the bugbear looked up, eyes wide and sad, staring at Kremy like a scolded dog. They had the same glow to them, as if whatever was in those canisters was in them as well, masking over what had been a warm brown. He didn't say anything, just stared. He clutched at his throat with fingers that were far longer than they had any right to be, and Kremy could see blood seeping from behind the claws. He had various other injuries as well, a gash on his cheek and a few cuts on his arm. Kremy wondered if he'd put up a fight before getting thrown in here.
"Whattado, friend, the name's Kremy Lecroux," Kremy said quietly, leaning against the bars in a forced air of casualty. "Seems like you're in a bit of a mess."
The other let out a grumble, not a growl, but the noise of someone who hasn't spoken in awhile. His voice was loud in the quiet cell, and Kremy flinched at the grating noise of it.
"Torbek has been better..."
Kremy cocked his head. "That seems like an understatement. How'd you wind up in here, friend?"
The bugbear shrugged, although he seemed to abort the motion halfway with a wince of pain. "It's a long story."
"Well, how about we start with the most interestin' thing. Why're you here?"
"Torbek thinks it's because of the Witchlight."
"Witchlight?"
He reached up a clawed hand, gesturing behind him to the canisters. "The gooey stuff is called Witchlight. Apparently, it's important."
Kremy arched the equivalent of a brow. "Important how?"
"Torbek's not sure, exactly. Torbek hasn't had them for long."
"Wait, what?"
He wiggled a bit, sloshing the canisters. It was then that Kremy realized they were actually attached to the bugbear's back. He winced.
"So this Witchlight stuff, it's valuable?"
"Torbek guesses so, since nobody wanted Torbek before, but now they all seem to want Torbek." His head tipped to the side with a frown. "Although not in the fun way."
Kremy snorted. "Well...I dunno who was in charge of you before, but you're in Garou's place now. So I don't think you're in for a real good time."
"Torbek figured."
Kremy tapped a claw against the bars, deep in thought. If he played this right, he might be able to use this guy to pay his way out of his contract. If enough people wanted whatever this Witchlight was, he could shove this bugbear-- Torbek?-- off to the highest bidder and take the cash to Garou. Granted, if he took Torbek from here, there was a chance that Garou would put together the fact that his prisoner escaped at the same time his loyal assistant disappeared, but he'd have some time to come up with a good story. Maybe he was kidnapped while trying to return Torbek to Garou?
"Is Mr. Kremy okay?"
Kremy blinked, focusing back on the bugbear. "Am I okay? You're the one in the prison."
Torbek shrugged again. "You just got really quiet. Were you talking to your voices too?"
"Voices?" He frowned in confusion. "'Course not. I was thinkin'."
"Ohh. About what?"
Kremy looked to the side without moving his head, trying to clock the guard. He was right where Kremy had left him, uninterested in their exchange if it didn't concern him.
"I'm assumin' you'd like to get outta here?"
Torbek's eyes widened. "Torbek would like that very much."
"If we can get you outta this cell, we'll hafta be quick about gettin' you off this boat," Kremy muttered, more to himself, working through his plan in real-time. Torbek nodded along, rubbing at the bloodied fur on his neck. “Your're awful tall, and we’d hafta cover those glowin’ beacons you’ve got on your back…”
“What about the guard?”
Kremy frowned. “Your're scared of a lil frog?”
He seemed to deflate a bit. “He was really mean to Torbek…”
The gator huffed, puffing up his chest. “Well, not to brag, but I’m pretty high on the ladder ‘round these parts. If I say we go, he’ll let us go.”
Torbek looked impressed. “Ohh! That’s amaaazing, Mr. Kremy!”
“The only problem is gettin’ you past my boss. So we’ll need to come up with some kinda disguise for ya.”
“Torbek is really good at being sneaky, if that helps.”
Kremy looked the bugbear up and down. He sincerely doubted someone that tall could sneak anywhere. But if they got him a cloak or something, they could at least sneak out the back. Once they got to town, Kremy could hide him at his place until he could set up a buyer for those canisters.
He took a deep breath, settling his mind. “Well Torbek, are you ready to do somethin’ pretty damn stupid?”
Torbek rocked from side to side, using the momentum to slowly getting to his feet. He loomed over Kremy as he grabbed hold of the other side of the bars. “Torbek does like, ten stupid things before breakfast. Torbek is ready.”
Kremy bit back a snicker, turning on a heel to head back to the guard. The bullywug was tipped backwards in his chair, feet propped up on a desk and arms behind his head.
“You got the key?”
“Nah, I ate it.” he rolled his eyes. “‘Course I got the key. I’m the prison guard, ain’t I?”
Kremy leaned down, placing his palms on the desk, locking eyes with the bullywug. “Then would you kindly give over the key and forget we were ever here?”
The guard’s eyes flashed, glowing a bright purple for a moment as the spell took hold. He set his chair right, grabbing the key ring from his belt loop. He flipped through the keys for a moment before singling one out, handing them to Kremy’s outstretched hand.
“Much obliged, friend,” he murmured, sauntering back to the cell.
Torbek had been listening, his furry face pressed against the bars to see as much as he could with the terrible angle of the hall. His mouth was agape, wringing his hands together, watching Kremy fit the key into the lock.
“Mr. Kremy, that was so cool! You really aaaare high on the ladder!”
Kremy opened the cell door, ushering Torbek out into the hall. As he passed, he got a good look at the canisters. The bugbear was wearing a long coat, which covered up some of the glass, but they seemed to be attached right onto his back, hanging at an angle that looked painful. It didn’t seem to bother Torbek, at least, not as much as Kremy figured it would. He lumbered out into the hall, surprisingly quiet.
“Okay, first thing’s first, we gotta get outta here in the next…minute or so.” That Suggestion was going to wear off pretty quickly, and Kremy needed them to be out of sight to be forgotten.
Torbek nodded, following Kremy as he strode down the hall toward the entrance. They brushed past the guard, still sitting in his chair. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched them go, as if he wasn’t even seeing them. Kremy grabbed the bugbear’s sleeve, dragging him up the stairs.
“Second thing we gotta do, is get you somethin’ to hide those canisters of yours.”
“They aaare pretty bright,” Torbek grimaced, twisting around while trying to look at his own back. Only Kremy’s grip on his arm kept him from stumbling back down the stairs.
Kremy huffed in annoyance, jerking his arm to get him to stop. He looked around, searching for something large enough to drape over a tall bugbear with two glass cans sticking out of his back. Thinking fast, he pulled the taller man down, getting him to hunch down. Then he made a beeline for the coat check room, to the side of the large room.
He all but pushed Torbek inside, concealing him from the crowd of gamblers. Thankfully, at this time of night, no one was manning the station. Kremy let go of Torbek, starting to shift through the various coats and garments on hangers.
Torbek peered over his shoulder, curious. “Isn’t someone gonna miss their coat?”
“If they do, we’ll be long gone before they realize it,” he replied, shaking out a black cape from somewhere in the back. It was absolutely a decade out of fashion; how long had this been in the coat check? “Here, put this on.”
Torbek did as instructed, whipping the cape over his shoulders. He looked like a dark wad of clay, the fabric doing little to conceal that there was something going on under there. But it was thick enough to mask the glow of the Witchlight, so it would do for their purposes.
“How does Torbek look?”
“Like you oughta be in a cathedral ringin’ bells,” Kremy shot back. “But we’re not here to fancy you up, we just need to get outta here.”
Clawed hands on the bugbear’s back, careful of the glass, he pushed the other out of the dim closet. Luckily they weren’t too far from an exit, one of the side doors that the staff used for getting in and out. There was little chance of running into too many people in there, and any wayward employees could be quickly Suggested to turn the other way.
He led Torbek to the door, hoping that it had been propped open like it usually was. Luck was on his side, and the pair quickly ducked inside, leaving the noise of the crowd behind. Kremy shut the door after a quick look around to make sure no one had paid them any mind. Fortunately, on a riverboat casino, there was far too much to pay attention to.
Kremy gave the other a shove, keeping him moving. “Okay, that was the tricky part. Now we’re outta here. We can head to my place and lie low for a bit.”
Torbek turned to face him, still being led forward. “Mr. Kremy has his own place?”
The gator blinked. “‘Course I do. Don’t you?”
Torbek shook his head. “No. Unless you consider the dumpster Torbek’s place. Torbek could probably get mail there, if Torbek was to get any mail.”
Kremy opened his mouth before deciding that he didn’t know how to deal with that, and closed it again. They pushed on, down the winding staff hallway. It was quiet this time of night; most of the employees were either on the show floor or off-shift. The door to the break room was wide open, but Kremy quickly shoved Torbek away from it, to the other end of the hall and ducking past before anyone inside could catch more than a glance at them.
At the end of the hall was the large steel door that led to the outside of the boat. Kremy wrenched it open, dragging them both outside and shutting it just as quickly, leaning against it to give himself a moment to breathe.
Torbek, meanwhile, leaned over the banister, taking in the view. He let out another of those grumbling noises; this time the tone lilted upward, as if he was interested in something. His strange, glowing eyes darted around, looking with awe at the water, the horizon, and the moon.
The boat was docked for the night, the gangplank set up for anyone wanting to leave early once they’d gambled all their money away. Kremy took another breath, straightened his skirts, and started down toward the shore.
“Alright Torbek, let’s go.”
Torbek nodded happily, hurrying after him.
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Bonus art from this chapter!
