WEAR THOSE GLOVES
Nixion frowned at the filthy underside of the car outside the front of his house and feeling as calm as he ever could be. Admittedly, this was not very calm at all, but it was calm none the less and at least it was better than he had been a few hours previously, back in the Sanctuary. It was something, and something would have to do. No one would be bothering him for a few more hours either. That was something else, another thing that would have to do.
His brow was furrowed and Nixion frowned at the underside, scanning the pipe that ran from one end to the other. He needed to do something that did not involve any of his usual life; nothing that involved magic or fighting or vampires or Necromancers or Sanctuaries and definitely nothing that involved Mist. And seeing as the only thing Nixion knew how to do other than fight in his free time was fix cars that was what he had decided to do. Fighting was too familiar. Deciding that the problem was not underneath, despite the oddly different design of it that had been puzzling Nixion for twenty minutes now, he rolled sideways and stood up and got a burst of sunlight in his eyes.
Grumbling darkly, Nixion shielded his eyes with a raised arm and made his way over to the front of the car where he pushed the bonnet up. Nixion surveyed the contents of the front for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and reached down into the engine and pulled something out, something that was obviously not meant to be there. It was a rust old knife, jammed in-between two important looking parts of the car that Nixion did not precisely know the names of. Shrugging, he slid the knife into his belt and went back to surveying the insides for any further problems that may be there.
This was what Nixion had once done in his spare time other than demolish punching bag after punching bag; fix cars. He did not run an official business, nor was he actually employed by anyone; people simply came to him and requested he fix their car problems. He did not know how they had managed to find their way to his house, but he didn’t ask either. He fixed the cars and got a few bucks for his trouble. In recent years, however, Nixion had not had many ‘customers’ and his lifestyle ended up revolving even more about vicious attacks with his fists and machete.
Nixion had been lucky; a man had walked up to him the moment he returned from the Sanctuary the previous day. He figured this was a good thing, because training against his punching bag again was going to be all too familiar to recent events. This was going to mean that he would have to think about things again. Nixion did not want to have to think. Nixion was sick of having to think. He was sick of life too, at the moment, but he wasn’t going to let life win this time. So he kept going with that. Thinking, however, was going to be taking a break for a while. Sure, fixing the car had required thinking, but at least it was thinking that he could figure things out with. The car was a distraction, and a distraction warmly welcomed by Nixion at that. Fighting was another thing that would be taking a break for he did not know how long. He was sick of fighting too. Thinking, fighting, life. None of these things were particularly good things to Nixion right now.
This surprised him, though. There was once a time when fighting was all he wanted to do, was his only care in the world, even with his regular tasks of fixing cars here and there. He did fix the cars, but fighting was still the only thing on his mind. There was a time when fighting was all he wanted to do.
Nixion shook his head at the car, having found no more problems with the engine and strode around to the driver door. He opened it, turned the key and felt the engine growl, coming to life. Satisfied, he turned the key again, turning it off, and shut the door.
Done for the day, he sat down and examined the knife in an effort to block the tide of bad thoughts that were threatening to swarm back into his head. He had hoped, after a nights rest, he might be back to normal. But no, he had woken up confused, disorientated and thoroughly sick of absolutely everything. He wanted to be left alone. And yes, he was alone, but he that was not going to remain the same way for long; Stavan would be arriving in a few hours.
He cursed and forced the knife into the grass beside him, muttering darkly again. Now that he had thought about Stavan, more thoughts of his usual life that would resume all to soon were swarming back to him again. He thought about Mist for the first time since the previous night, and the anger that Nixion had had with him for so many years now blossomed inside of him, yearning to get out, and Nixion welcomed the familiar sensation, to hate, to loathe, to want to rage, to kill someone, something.
How could Mist betray him? He was the closest thing he had to a friend. He had even come to regard him as a friend in the past few days, Nixion was not even sure how many of them had passed since Mist, Kali, Mahogany and Thomas had appeared on his doorstep. His fist clenched tightly around the hilt of the rust knife as his thoughts redirected to Thomas who was now dead.
Thomas had been killed by Keeve, yes, but had it in fact been Mist who had sold him, them, out? Was it he who had really killed Thomas? Had he sold everyone out? Or was it someone else after all? The Grand Mage could be entirely wrong…and yet he could have been entirely correct. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know much of anything anymore. All Nixion did knww was that he could only trust one person: Stavan.
While Nixion had been in his forced state of insanity, he had trusted absolutely no one (this may have had something to do with the fact that he was insane) and no one had trusted him in return. Even if the person in question did not mind the killing he did, or in fact were killers themselves, they did not trust him. If there was one thing he had learnt, it was you had to trust at least one person. He did not particularly know why, but he felt better when he trusted someone. It meant he was not alone. Even if this sense of security was indeed false, it was a nice sense all the same and one he had become quite accustomed to over the years. That one person whom he trusted had once been Mist. Now it was Stavan, because Nixion simply was not able to trust Mist any longer. Stavan was the one he was relying on now.
“Yo, short stuff!” a familiarly cocky voice called from behind him.
Think of the Devil…
Nixion looked up from the ground to see Stavan walking towards him, smirking his cocky smirk. His world lit up. Just a little. And he grinned.
They were in Nixion’s backyard, where the grass was unkempt and tire marks ran across everything from the lawn to the dead flowers. There was a lone car there, with fading yellow paint and the bonnet open. It was the car Nixion had been building himself for the past three. There was also a drive-around lawn mower near the mouldy fence.
“Nice place,” Stavan grinned, kicking an empty soft drink can that was lying on the ground.
Nixion ignored him but grinned to himself again as he turned away from Stavan.
“You should get a dog.” He said unexpectedly, making Nixion look up in surprise. “You look like you’d like a dog.”
“I like dogs,” Nixion said and smiled. “Problem is, dogs don’t like me.”
“Ah, you gotta show it who’s boss,” Stavan explained as if he was explaining why elephants were unable to fly to an overly-emotional three year old. “You gotta command it.”
“Yeah, sure.” Nixion looked down at his boots, still smiling.
“I think a Chiwawa.” Stavan decided, the laugh hidden in his voice. “It’d suit you both. You’d hate it and it’d hate you. You’d make such a pair, little yappy things that look even stupider than the-”
“Shut up,” Nixion laughed, and aimed a kick and Stavan’s shin.
To his astonishment, Stavan leg blurred, came up towards Nixion, hooked his upped leg, twisted and Nixion somehow ended up on the ground.
“Gotta be quicker, little killer,” He smirked again.
Nixion panted for a second, wondering how he had managed to do that. Then he used his hands to push himself up faster than most could blink, and punched Stavan’s face. At least, that was what he had tried to do, only his face was not there anymore and Nixion’s fist met thin air instead. Stavan had twisted, spun and had ended up on Nixion’s left. He hooked his left arm with both hands in a lock, and pushed down hard.
Nixion gasped, the pain sending him to his knees. His arm was still being held, but Nixion fought to ignore the pain that was now beginning to eat at him and rolled forwards, loosening the grip on his arms and sent a kick into Stavan’s knee.
Stavan let go of Nixion, but not for long. The leg Nixion had not managed to attack came soaring forwards and sunk into Nixion’s stomach which caused him to moan in agony and folded into a ball.
“You should make sure you can follow through if you attack someone like that kiddo.” Stavan said, his voice having not changed the slightest bit.
Nixion opened his eyes and Stavan was standing beside him, not a care in the world.
Nixion muttered something that could have been ‘hate you’…
“Yeah, right,” Stavan said and flashed him a smirk. “I bet my big toe you can stand worse that that. That was nothing, I guarantee. I also bet you can do better, that was terrible.”
Nixion rolled over, closed his eyes and flipped himself up onto his feet.
He had taken worse. Much worse in fact, but Nixion was hoping to take Stavan by surprise. He flashed and moved in, his right hand going to a hook, but he changed half way through and spun in the air, bringing his right hand right around for a back-fist to Stavan’s face, but Stavan had not fallen for it and pushed Nixion’s fist away before he knew what was happening and moved under it, going for a jab to his ribs. Nixion folded into the attack, sideways now, and rolled around it again, fighting back the pain, and rammed into Stavan. He evidently had not been expecting something so rash as a shoulder-barge and Stavan did not have time to raise a guard against the powerful ram, despite his Cleaver abilities. Stavan was forced backwards and Nixion did not stop. Instead, he piled on the speed, hoping to trip Stavan, and brought his free hand upwards at the same time, going for an attack to the gut. However, Stavan pushed his fist away again with ease and somehow managed to execute a summersault over the still-charging Nixion and landed perfectly behind him.
Nixion spun, his guard already flying up, but he had been too late. Stavan was already striking, one powerful kick to his knee and a strong fist to his face sent Nixion half stumbling backwards, half collapsing to the ground, then end result of which looked something like a deformed sprawl. He wasted no time for nursing injuries, though, and flipped himself over, avoiding another fist to the face that sunk deep into the ground and sent bits of dirt flying everywhere. Nixion leapt to his feet while Stavan pulled his fist out of the ground and charged forwards again, hoping to push him off balance, but Stavan seemed to have learnt from the last time and stepped sideways. He swept and Nixion fell to the ground again. Another roll sent Nixion facing upwards and a moment later he had sent a kick into Stavan’s chest and he jumped to his feet again.
Nixion tried to punch Stavan, but he moved below it, grabbed Nixion’s wrist, dragged him forward so he stumbled and used his other arm to elbow Nixion in the chest.
Nixion got all the wind knocked out of him, and he staggered backwards. Stavan just shook his head disappointedly. Nixion felt anger rise up in him, and he lunged forward, trying to tackle Stavan to the ground.
Stavan moved fast. He crouched down under Nixion, sent his hands up, hitting Nixion in the chest and stomach in a way so he was holding Nixion above him, like a sort of wrestler. He threw Nixion across the backyard and he hit the grass.
“Your anger makes you predicable and stupid,” Stavan was saying while Nixion stared up at the sky, having no idea how he got there or why he was hurting so much more than he was a few seconds ago. “Strong, yes, but if you fight only with strength you’re going tp lose at least once. And all it takes is one defeat and you’re dead.”
The pain hit Nixion hard and he gasped.
“You’re not bad little man, but you’re not terribly good either.”
Nixion staggered to his feet.
“Don’t even think about attacking me again, or this time I’ll break your arm.”
Nixion nodded feebly and stumbled inside, collapsing into a chair. He stared at the wall for a moment as Stavan walked inside behind him, and then forced himself to his feet again, striding over to the sink to get a drink.
Compared to the front and backyard’s of Nixion’s property he did not actually officially own, his actual house was very nice. Very tidy, very clean. Even, polished wooden boards lined the floor and walls and nice furniture were arranged neatly in the next room. Nixion had not done this to the place himself, the old owners had before they had ‘unexpectedly been killed’ a day before Nixion attacked the Sanctuary.
He grabbed a glass and filled it with water before walking weirdly back to Stavan. His rose the glass to his lips before pausing for a fraction of a second. He saw Stavan’s eyes narrow in that fraction of a second and Nixion acted fast, the glass flying from his hand and towards Stavan. The ex-Cleaver sent an open arm flying sideways, smashing the glass of water into a million small pieces effortlessly. He leapt forwards and went for a tackle at Nixion and his first impulse was to kick Stavan, but a split second before he attacked, a second option came into Nixion’s mind, and in the split second, he went with that second option. As Stavan reached him, Nixion brought his elbows down on Stavan’s back. Stavan roared, and instead of the tackle, Stavan just flew into Nixion and they went tumbling. Nixion’s arms were forced to go over his head when Stavan rolled over him. Stavan jumped up and forward, spinning around in case Nixion got up.
Nixion just stayed on the ground. His shoulders were aching, his chest had been hit more than once and he was having trouble getting his breath back. He hadn’t given up; he was just resting… and would probably do so until he didn’t have the chance to fight Stavan again. Coincidence.
“I thought for sure you would kick me,” Stavan said. Nixion looked at him and had a flash of satisfaction as he saw him rubbing his back, face screwed up in pain. “You didn’t. I didn’t expect that. Well done,” there was a pause where he continued to rub his back. “You hit be right in the joints…” he muttered.
“Anytime,” Nixion moaned. He hurt everywhere. Stavan knew exactly where to hit him and did so.
“That was better. Let’s call it a draw, huh? I’m thirsty,” he said. His smirk was nowhere to be seen now.
Nixion laughed feebly and rolled over onto his back and caught sight of the floor that was now scattered with small shards of glass. “Whatever you say…” he gasped.
Stavan bent over and offered a hand to Nixion, a hand which he took and was pulled to his feet.
“Where are we meant to sit?” Stavan asked, looking around the kitchen and kicking away some of the glass into the backyard beyond.
“Come on” Nixion said, walking out and not bothering with drinks. Stavan followed him downstairs, to the basement, which Nixion had converted to a large training area. Yes, Nixion generally did his simple, easy training (the destruction of many punching bags) upstairs in the living room, but the basement was used whenever he was feeling like a larger challenge.
“Not bad,” Stavan said as he walked past a large case of various sized machete’s that was hanging on the wall.
Nixion had not been down here in a week now, but it was still the tidiest place in the house, even if it didn’t have much light. He flicked a switch on the wall and the lights he installed himself flickered to life, illuminating the place. Stavan walked to the seven chairs and table in the corner at once and Nixion joined him a few seconds after.
They sat down, in silence for a while, then Nixion got bored again.
“So… what do you do now?” he asked.
“I’m a bounty hunter now,” Stavan replied lazily.
“Oh, really?” Nixion did not know this. “So do you usually have to kill people or just hurt them?”
“Normally I just hurt them,” Stavan shrugged. “People don’t take much convincing to come along after they’re hurt, you know?”
“I know,” Nixion nodded. “But what else do you do?”
“You mean like you?” he asked. “Training, fighting and fixing cars?”
Nixion paused. Was that all he did with his life? Didn’t he have anything outside that?
“I do other stuff,” Nixion muttered, completely lying.
“Yeah, I forgot, you have a side hobby of cleaning houses.” Stavan was grinning.
“But do you do anything else?”
“I fight,” Stavan shrugged. “I might not be a Cleaver anymore, but I still care about people, so I fight anyone that deserves it.”
“Unless they’ve got a price on their head?” Nixion asked sceptically, a smirk now raising his lips.
And then they got into a long conversation about fights, Nixion mentioning some of his favourites, while Stavan talked about ones so farfetched that Nixion wondered if he had made some of them up. It was rather interesting, Nixion thought, and it was nice, just to talk. He didn’t get to talk to people as a friend much anymore.
And then there was a loud scraping at the entrance to the basement and Nixion leaped to his feet, one hand reaching for his machete, the other to the rusty knife he had taken from the car. But it was only Mist, climbing down the stars into the basement, having found and opened the door already, a bag in one hand and a frown on his face.
“Yes, please come in,” Nixion said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, returning to his seat.
“Nice to see you too, Nix,” Mist grinned and Nixion’s insides squirmed for a moment. Mist walked forwards and joined the two at the table, placing the bag on top of it before taking a small, wrapped package out of it.
“I got you an early birthday present,” Mist said to Nix, tossing him the package. Though Nixion though Mist may have been teasing him, he detected no trace of amusement in his tone or in his expression.
“You’re birthday’s coming up?” Stavan asked Nixion and he nodded stiffly. Nixion did not like birthdays. They reminded him of home. He did not like thinking about home. It reminded him of his kidnapping. He did not like thinking about his kidnapping. It reminded him of the torture. He did not like torture…
The package was wrapped entirely in a smooth, black wrapping. sMist nodded at him and Nixion ripped open the package carefully and a pair of black gloves fell onto his lap. Nixion’s brow furrowed in confusion as he examined the gloves properly. They were of material he could not identify properly, like the wrapping, like Mist’s clothing. This must have cost Mist a fortune, Nixion couldn’t really believe he had spent so much money on him. He slid them on and they fitted Nixion’s hands perfectly, he barely could tell they were there. They made him feel warm…
“They’re probably the most expensive gloves you’ll find anywhere,” he said to Nixion. “They’re protective material as well. You could punch your way through a brick wall and not even get a bruise.”
Nixion stared at the gloves for a second longer, then stared at Mist before nodding his thanks, having temporarily lost his words. Mist nodded back to him and then got down to business.
“So,” Mist began. “We need a plan.”
“You mean we’ve been going on a whim until now?” Stavan asked with a frown. “Oh, that’s brilliant, that is.”
Mist clenched his jaw, but otherwise ignored Stavan. Nixion realised he took that as an accusation about how Mist’s plans had been going wrong, about Thomas’s death. Nixion found himself wondering if it was Mist’s fault once again.
“I think you should know something,” Mist said to Stavan. “We have a traitor.”
Stavan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And who is it?” He asked.
“We don’t know,” Mist admitted, giving Nixion a glance. “So I think we should make some estimated guesses based on what we already know.”
“Hang on,” Stavan said, sitting up. “I’m assuming that you two trust each other already?” he asked, pointing to Nixion and Mist. Mist nodded and Nixion made a half-hearted grunt, not sure of the answer to that question at all anymore. “So how do you know you can trust me if you already know there’s a traitor?”
“We don’t,” Mist said. “But I’ve looked at your track record with the Sanctuary. You were fired, yeah, but I’ve also read everything you’ve done since you were on your own. As far as I can see, you’re still working for a little thing I like to call the ‘Good Side’.”
“Ah,” Stavan said and settled back into his previous position of relaxation. “That’s fair enough I suppose. Continue.”
Mist pulled out something from the bag and dumped it on the table, putting the rest of the bag on the ground beside him.
“The files,” he said. “Of everyone in our little group.”
So they started, going through everyone’s profiles, adding bits of information they knew personally about the person. Their histories, their personalities, the people they knew, the people they know, they’re criminal record, they’re occupation, absolutely everything. They started with the least likely, the ones that Nixion, Stavan and Mist thought they could trust most and worked their way up to the least likely.
They managed to cancel out a few people who they could assume was not the traitor, but not necessarily trust completely. This short list was made of Kali Nole and Neon Dark. When Stavan had asked about Mahogany as well, Mist had simply said that she did not seem at all the type to betray the group to The Remaining and therefor was also one of the ones that would most likely be the traitor. Stavan agreed to this after hearing his explanation, but Nixion did not particularly understand Mist’s logic in that. Nixion had not agreed with the addition of the Necromancer to the list, but Zathract and, to the surprise of Mist and much as Nixion, Stavan were particularly persistent on the matter. In the end, Zathract promised to go and see Vai Melt soon and get as much information about Dark from her and any other Necromancer willing to help as he could. Finally, Nixion agreed to this, grudgingly and unwillingly, but agreed none the less, and so they moved on to the next list.
The people they discussed next were on the list of people that were beings they could trust most definitely and completely outright.
They managed to come up with a list of people they could trust without a doubt. Nixion and Stavan both agreed that there should be absolutely no one on that list, but were both surprised when Mist suggested Lyra Blue.
“What?” Stavan asked, brow furrowed. “I suppose it’s reasonable that you may want to trust someone other than us two, but Lyra?”
Mist nodded, unfazed and firm on the matter.
A long conversation arose on the matter of Lyra Blue and it was a conversation that Nixion did not join in in. Mist remained as firm on her inclusion as ever and Stavan persisted stubbornly against it.
“She can be trusted,” Mist said, leaning forwards as the voices of him and Stavan rose steadily louder. “She’s never going to do anything that doesn’t have a large advantage in it for her! The Remaining can’t offer her an amount of money that would tempt her, she’s practically rich already with all the weapons she sells and when we asked her to join us she even went as far to say that she’d deal with the matter herself!”
“But that’s exactly it!” Stavan yelled, slamming a fist onto the table. “If she thought she could deal with the thing herself, then she obviously knew what was going on! In fact, it’s probably her that’s the traitor!”
Nixion rubbed his eyes and decided to speak up.
“If I had to choose one person outside of us three to trust,” he said, “It would be Lyra. I’d say we should put her on this list.”
“You said that no one should be going on here,” Stavan reminded him.
“I changed my mind,” he said. “I think we can trust Lyra.”
“Thank you.” Mist nodded at him and Nixion was not sure what to do. Stavan pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked up.
“Yes,” he said finally. “Okay, Lyra Blue then. We’ll tell her everything, I assume?”
“Yes,” Mist nodded, already scanning the rest of the group. “Okay, I say that everyone else we keep a close eye on and make sure we track they’re every move.”
“Everyone else?” Stavan asked, surveying the remaining people in their group.
“Mahogany Reen,” Mist started, reading them out, “Jake Hunter and Gabriel Cobalt.”
Nixion raised his eyebrows. “Gabriel? I thought he said he wasn’t helping…”
“He did,” Mist said. “And I still think he’s going to end up doing it anyway.”
“Gabriel Cobalt?” Stavan asked. “Isn’t the guy who…?” he took a look at Cobalt’s picture in his profile. “Ugh. He tried to kill me once…”
“He’s tried to kill me seven times now,” Mist said, waving a careless, gloved hand at Stavan. “And I’m just a few years younger than you.”
“Whatever,” Stavan said. “Is that it then?”
“One last thing,” Mist said, pulling out one last profile. “Slayn Redeem. She’s an old friend of mine, powerful, strong and bloody impatient. Lyra would like her. You too,” he nodded to Nix.
“Another person…?” Nixion had his doubts.
“Can she be trusted?” Stavan asked slowly.
“Completely,” Mist said.
“Well, I suppose that’s okay then…” Stavan muttered.
“She’s going on the list with Lyra and us three, then?” Nixion asked, deciding to let it go.
“She is,” Mist nodded.
“Okay then…” Nix muttered. “Is that it then?”
“That’s all of them…” Mist muttered, surveying the profiles once again.
“Wonderful,” Stavan sat back in his chair. “Now what?”
Mist leaned back in his chair as well.
“Okay,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “Can we all agree that we’re basically screwed?”
Nixion and Stavan nodded.
“So, this is where we form the plan,” Mist continued. “From now on, every time we go out to fight someone or look for clues or something, we’re going to divide ourselves into four pairs. I’ll go with Neon Dark, Stavan, you go with Kali, Nixion with Mahogany and Lyra can taker Hunter.”
“Uh…” Stavan muttered. “No…I’d rather go with someone else, to be honest.”
So they had dated then, Nixion thought to himself, confirming the matter that had first arose when Stavan had first been brought into the Sanctuary with Kali, Thomas and Mahogany.
Mist paused, but only for a moment. “Right,” he said. “Alright then: Stavan, you can go along with Hunter and Lyra can take Kali.”
Stavan nodded and fell silent again. Nixion fought another smirk.
“So,” Mist continued, “This will mean that each of us, the people we trust, will each have one individual to focus on for as long as this goes on for. We’ll all meet in private, us three and Lyra I mean, and report how each of the people have been acting. If there’s anything suspicious they’ve been doing, anything different or weird, whatever. The point is, from now on we’re going to need to know what everyone is doing. Every move.”
Stavan nodded, but then frowned.
“Hang on,” he said. “Yeah, okay, we’re all trusting each other, us three and Lyra, yeah? But what if one of us is actually the traitor? I mean, no offense of course, but for all we know, you could be havin’ secret meetings with The Remaining every night.”
“I could be, yes,” Mist said. “And yet so could you, maybe Nix is as well and Lyra could be the head of The Remaining operation. Yes, we don’t know anything for sure, but if we don’t do something along the lines of what I’ve just said, we’re going to be a lot worse off. None of us will have anything to work off and we will be completely screwed.”
There was silence.
“That is,” Nixion said slowly, “Without a doubt, the most illogical thing I’ve heard you say. A thousand things could go wrong. Any of us could report everything we’re doing to The Remaining, organize an ambush from the inside, compromise everything we do, take hold of the Sanctuary with our own plans used against us and basically anything else they could think of.”
“And yet, you’re agreeing with me?” Mist asked him.
“I am,” Nixion said. “Someone had to.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we kept everyone together?” Stavan asked. “I’m sure that everyone could overpower any one person, whoever the traitor is, when we find out.”
Mist shook his head.
“If they really are organized, then they’re most likely going to be able to predict everything we do. They could have any number of powers we don’t know about hidden from us and strength that we didn’t know about. If we report on everyone then we’ll have time to plan against a suspect and organize ourselves for an attack.
“If we don’t, we’ll be putting everyone in danger. We keep in groups of two and with any luck, the traitor will slip up”
“So we’re going off pure luck?” Stavan asked incredulously.
“Luck’s gotten me a long way over the years,” Mist shrugged.
“All the same,” Stavan persisted. “It’s still to unsure of anything to be a good plan.”
“What do you suggest then?” Mist asked him.
There was another short pause.
“Fine…” Stavan muttered. “But it’s still a stupid plan.”
“It’s still a stupid plan,” Nixion agreed.
“It’s still a stupid plan,” Mist nodded. “But it’s the only one we have.
“So we’re going to have to make do with it?” Stavan asked.
“I was afraid you’d say that…” Stavan muttered.
“So what are we doing next?” Nixion asked. “Any leads? Any plans? Where are we going?”
Mist smiled and stood up. “I think I may have an idea,” he said. “And you’re not going to like it.”
“That sounds suspiciously bad,” Nixion said, and then nodded.
“I don’t like it.”