Judgment Day

The sun had long since set. Harold sat behind the counter, nursing a cold beer, while Spunk was making a few bug fixes in Amalyn's programming. She had been going off script more and more lately, and he wasn't sure why. He hadn't made any major updates. The only thing that had changed was the dildo crafting machine, and he had barely had time to play with that, or implement significant code changes.

"Well, it's been a hell of a week, Harold." Spunk said, peering up from the monitor at his friend. "Who thought running a small business would be so interesting."

"I had a feeling it would be." Harold took a long sip, wiping his mouth. "Any adventure with you is bound to be interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spunk asked, but he knew the answer. Trouble always seemed to flock to him, and this week was no exception.

"Oh, you know. The usual." Harold waved his hand at the sky. "Wouldn't think you were good enough at rabble rousing to get an entire planet attacked, but, it seems like you're moving up in the world."

"Not my fault." Spunk said and Harold raised his eyebrows. "What?!" Spunk got defensive. "I didn't tell him to decompose on my shop floor. I can think of a thousand places that would be better suited for that sort of thing. Like maybe not in my shop. At all."

"And the girl? I see what you're trying to do there." Harold was frank, and Spunk didn't like it one bit. "She's not Amalon. You can't just... convince her to leave her family and pursue her own happiness."

"Oh, it's not about him." Spunk said. But it was. "Plus, the girl needs an abortion. You're stupid if you think her father won't dump her on some cold, icy rock when he finds out that she's pregnant. She's dead without an abortion. I won't have a girl's blood on my hands."

"Uh huh." Harold said accusingly. Spunk let the accusation die in a moment of silence.

"Should we lock the door?" Spunk asked. Harold shrugged.

"It's a bit early. But we certainly don't get much business this late at night on Tuesdays, so we might as well."

"I'll grab it." Spunk said. "You got your stuff?"

"I will in a second." Harold swallowed the last of his beer and got up.

A discordant sound hit their ears as, not for the first time this week, the front door flew open and slammed against the wall. A set of tall, menacing looking, blue reptilian faced thugs stepped through the door. Nevals. Spunk's stomach dropped.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath, shooting Harold a look. He pasted a smile on his face and looked a the two men -- reptiles, creatures, whatever -- that had stepped through the door. Their jerking movements extended to their faces and Spunk was very, very uncomfortable.

"How can I help you today, gentlemen?" Spunk asked cheerily. He wasn't sure that Harold could read his mind, but he hoped that Harold had activated the emergency button for robbery. The one that would have the cops there in five minutes or less.

"You have something that is ours." The first one's gruff, low voice echoed into the empty quiet of the store. Spunk tried his best to feign innocence.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked. The other one, who was slightly taller, was having none of it.

"We have the signature of our brethren here." He pulled out a little gadget which was beeping quietly. It grew louder as he waved it around. "One like us," he passed his hand to his fellow and back, "was here. Recently. We are here to retrieve him."

Spunk had never heard the word retrieve used so ominously. He was surprised to understand exactly the man's intention. It was not good for Saffold. Not good at all.

"I'm sorry, as you can see," Spunk waved his hand in a similar fashion, from himself to Harold and back. "It's just us here. None of your kind to be found."

The lights flickered. Spunk wasn't sure if it was by chance, or if the hulking blue reptilians were getting angry. He had no idea if the man-version could fuck with electronics.

The reptilians exchanged looks before the left one spoke again. "I will search. You will stay here. He will watch." He pointed to his friend, who crossed his arms. The arms, Spunk noticed, were weirdly scaley and they shimmered in the bright shop lights. Spunk held out his hands placatingly.

"Anything you need." He wondered if his emergency button even worked. And if Harold had pressed it.

The lizard man stormed off towards the back of the shop. Spunk had a feeling that the lizard's "searching" would be more of a ransacking. He hoped that Saffold knew enough to keep a low profile. And he hoped that his merchandise wasn't about to be destroyed.

He refused to meet the guard's eyes. He was standing awkwardly between the blue iguanoid and Harold, unsure of whether or not he should join Harold behind the front desk. Unsure of if they were being held against their will. Unsure of whether or not he was going to die.

The silence was excruciating. There was no way he could communicate with Harold without fucking up the situation further. The moment was broken by occasional thumps in the back of the store. Out of sight. Spunk hoped the creature wasn't breaking anything expensive. It was over soon enough, and he ducked through the second room's doorway back into sight. He rejoined his partner in intimidation.

They made an odd chorus of clicks and squeals at each other before switching back to the Common language.

"He is not here." The searcher declared. "But it smells fresh. We will return in three days. You will have him."

"I'm sorry, what?" Spunk said incredulously. The lizard's slitted eyes blinked at him several times.

"He is not here." The searcher repeated. "We will return in three days. You will return him to us then."

"And if this creature doesn't... show up? For you? Here? In three days?" Spunk asked.

The searcher held his hands up, mimicking Spunk's placating pose from before. "We need him. There will be prices to pay."

"Look, mister..." Spunk tried to sound tough, but it was pretty clear he was mostly terrified. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I don't appreciate you making subtle threats to my partner and I."

The lizard man grinned, showing his teeth. "You know more than you let on, little humanoid. Three days. Or else."

The two turns on their heels simultaneously and walked towards the door. It clanged shut behind them.

“Saffold!” Spunk shouted as he saw the police vehicles pulling out of the drive. They had arrived shortly after the Nevals left and had taken a statement. “The jig’s up, buddy. Come on out. We gotta figure this out.”

Nothing happened and Spunk rolled his eyes at Harold. “Harold knows, you dumb ass. Get out here. Show yourself. Whatever. Or I’ll hand your body over to those gangsters at the first possible moment.”

The blue haze appeared almost instantaneously. Who knew -- fear would work just fine.

“Cool. Welcome. Harold, this is Saffold -- “ Spunk gestured to the blue haze forming into a reptilian hologram. “Saffold, meet Harold. Please don’t knock us out. The doors are locked.”

“Sorry.” The ghost offered. Spunk had been wondering if the word was even in Neval vocabulary.

“You had two bruisers coming to look for you.” Spunk said. “Not sure if you saw that.”

“I felt their presence and hid. I did not hear or see. What did they say? Who were they?” The ghost was wringing his transparent hands nervously.

“Well, they felt you here, apparently. As you felt them. And they search and knocked some shelves over. Mostly out of malice. Then they told me I have three days to produce you. Or else.”

The ghost looked worried, but nodded. “They didn’t tell you their names?” He asked and Spunk shook his head.

“Nope, not a word about who they were. And then they left. And then the cops showed up. And then they left. And now here we are. What do you want to do, buddy?”

“There is nothing to be done.” The Neval said with a deep sadness that Spunk felt in his very bones. “If I stay, they will burn your shop down with you and everyone you love inside. If I go, they may do that anyway. If you hand me over to them, I am worse than dead. And if you kill me and then hand my body over, I am still dead.”

“Last time we talked, you said that the only way out of this was dying…” Spunk said, trailing off. “Is that true? Your only options are die, or be captured and then die?”

The ghost furrowed the space where his reptilian eyebrows should have been. “There is perhaps one other way, but it is… legend. A fallacy, perhaps. A wild goose chase. And with only three days, I’m not sure that we could even achieve it if we tried.”

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