#230 - Ridiculous
Black and white
"Remind me," Charity said, absently juggling apples, body still and arms a blur of dark skinned hands, white sleeves and a half dozen green and red fruit, "why are we here again?"
"Mystical shaman reasons," Mike said. "Also, buy those or put them back. Apples are not for juggling."
"I'm already juggling them," Charity pointed out.
"And it's attracting a lot of custom to my stall," said the vendor happily. "I've made more money in the last twenty minutes than I have in the two days since I arrived at the Traders Market! Thank you, please come again!"
"Seriously, no-one takes twenty minutes to pick their fruit," Charity said, poking Mike. "What are you really doing?"
"Admiring a lovely bunch of coconuts?" Mike waved at them. Everyone looked at the coconuts. "They're very coconutty!"
"Sometimes I think you only invite me along on these gigs so you have someone to be weird at," Charity mused.
"Nonsense! You're also here to beat people up for me." Mike grinned.
"You can just mindblast everybody."
"Yeah, but it looks so much cooler when you do the kung-fu vixen thing like -- ow!" Mike rubbed his head. "Apples aren't for chucking at people's heads either!"
"I already did," Charity pointed out, and threw another one at him. It curved abruptly in mid-air and smacked into his palm and he took a large bite, tossing a handful of slim gold coins to the vendor. "Show off."
"Always," Mike grinned, waving a hand over his purchases which flared out in sequential flashes of gold. "Come on. I found the guy."
"We were looking for a guy?" Charity asked, dropping into step with him as the sauntered away down the aisles between the tents and the stalls and the tents that were stalls.
"I was looking for a guy," Mike corrected. "You were juggling and hitting me."
"Both highly worthwhile endeavors," Charity said pompously, and very British. Mike grinned. "Anyway," she added, "couldn't you have just sent an owl or something? The market is cool and all, but these soft places always feel like... I dunno. One pissed off hellgod away from total dimensional collapse."
"Nonsense! It'd take three at least," Mike said, in between apple bites. "Anyway, where else could you find Pippin Took and Starfire both shopping for carrots?" He waved the apple core at the tiny hobbit and the tall, orange-skinned alien and then ate that too.
"That's quite a nice little nothing she's almost wearing," Charity mused.
"Starfire's the male of his species actually," Mike said. "And stop quoting James Bond movies."
Charity eyed him, then Starfire, then him again. "You're kidding. ...you are kidding, right?" Mike just grinned. Charity looked back at Starfire who was obliviously watching a man in a red Errol Flynn get-up make out with another athletic guy in black and blue spandex. "You're kidding. You're--"
She looked around. He was gone.
"--not here, which means I'm now talking to myself out loud like a crazy person."
"Your friend's over there," Pippin said from waist-height, pointing to where Mike was ducking into a tent. "Say, you couldn't do me a favour, could you? Pass us down those carrots there."
"Carrots? Oh." Charity did. "Thanks."
"Always glad to help out a lady in distress," Pippin said, and hurried off with the carrots.
Charity headed the other way, ducking into the tent in time to hear Mike say, "a kuger a moku?"
He was sat on the opposite side of a wooden board from an incredibly large man occupying a surprisingly small space, like a single mass of muscle. The man grunted acceptance, taking a handful of black glass beads from his pot and putting them on the table.
"Odd," Mike said, and, "there you are," to Charity, and "she's with me," to the man.
He glanced up at her and then rumbled, "There is a small oasis out back that the Servant may enjoy."
"Servant?" Charity said sharply.
"Of the Gods," Mike supplied. "He thinks you're... I'm not actually sure there is an equivalent. A sort of holy woman? It's okay," he added to the man, "her faith doesn't proscribe gambling."
"Uh, no. Totally for the gambling," Charity agreed, and then leaned towards Mike to ask, "why does he think I'm holy?"
"You're wearing white. Also, you're a Slayer. Mystical aura. It's an ancient cultural thing. Oh, this is Hyperion, by the way." He waved at the man. "He has something I want."
"Er, hello. And you're playing ... is that Othello? For this thing." Charity frowned at the board. "No, wait, it's that Japanese one. Go?"
"It's Chinese, but yes," Mike nodded. "Black goes first!"
Charity watched the black and white glass stones being placed on the board. Neither of the two appeared to be thinking about it. Mike's black leather jacket creaked a little when he moved, sliding back and forth against pale skin as he played. Hyperion's hands were the same rusty brown colour as his armor, which rattled like rubbing chains whenever he moved. It was quite a little symphony.
"I thought Go was complicated," she said. "Shouldn't you be considering each move?"
"I am," said Mike. Tak went his piece as it went down and, almost in the echo, tak went Hyperion's piece, and tak went tak the tak next tak pieces. "I'm thinking really quickly?"
Charity eyed him.
"Well, I could be," he said defensively. "I do have massive psychic powers you know."
Hyperion glared. "What power is this you speak of? Do you cheat, foul mage?"
"One, I'm not foul, two, I'm not a mage, and three, you're the one with a stochastic field generator tucked under your goban to affect local probability fields," Mike said, "so I don't see where you get off on suggesting I'm cheating."
"You are though," Charity said. "You've been playing each other's coloured stones since the game began. See, you're actually black, and he's white; you can tell by the pattern of the pieces the order they were played in. He's basically won the game for you with his--" Mike was glaring. "Oh. You didn't want him to know that yet, did you?"
"No," Mike said. "But he got lucky. That's the problem with stochastic field generators. They're hard to focus. Although much less harder than purely magical luck devices which--"
Mike lunged for the board. Hyperion unfolded from his spot and smacked him away with one mighty, meaty fist. Charity quickly charged forward, leaping into a flying kick, adding a backwards somersault kick when the first barely phased the man. Hyperion seemed ready for her to attack again, but she turned the somersault into a flip, grabbing the board on way past. Black and white stones went flying everywhere.
"This is what you want, right?" she asked Mike.
"No, I want the shiny glowy thing," Mike said, pointing at the shiny, glowy thing moving the board had revealed. Hyperion growled. "You really should loosen up," Mike informed him. "Eat more fruit. It's good for the digestion. Charity here has a good trick with apples--"
Charity, recognising a cue when Mike blatantly telegraphed it, chucked the board at Hyperion. He batted it away, swinging towards her, and Mike went the other way, circling around. Charity moved too, widening the distance between them.
"You can not fight me," Hyperion yelled.
"Um, we are?" Charity pointed out.
"Yep," Mike agreed. "Fight scene is happening. Kung fu occurs! Hi-yah!" The other two stared at him. "No one appreciates my sense of humour."
"I shall grind your bones into bread, along with a number of other ingredients!" Hyperion roared. "Bone meal in flour enriches iron intake. And stop trying to sneak around and steal my luck magnet."
"Er, no?" Mike shook his head. "Also, it's not actually a magnet, so--"
"And you can not distract my with your sophistry and constant backtalk," Hyperion added. "Just because I have been reduced to conning people out of their money in the Trader's Market, doesn't mean that I'm without recourse. Behold! My brothers and sisters!"
Eleven more amazingly muscled people appeared in the tent.
"Huh," Mike said. "I wasn't expecting that."
Charity sighed. "Why I let you drag me to these things..."
"You come along because you hope if I go off the rails, you'll have a chance to stop me. And I let you come along because I hope you're right. Which," Mike added cheerfully, "just goes to show we're both masochistic, really. Now, let us fight these ninja-demon-wossnames and go and have some ice-cream because--"
"We're not ninjas or demons," interrupted Hyperion. "We're Elder Gods. Before we were overthrown by the cursed Olympians and the thrice-hated Zeus, we were known as the Titans! Now--"
There was a blast of energy from the doorway. He looked surprised for a moment, then fell over backwards.
"We're the Titans," said Starfire. "Now, which one of you stole my carrots?"
"Huh," Mike said. "I wasn't expecting that either."
"Damn that tiny man," Charity muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, Starfire had alien hearing.
"Yes, the tiny Pip man explained to me how, while we were both buying carrots, my share was stolen, and that someone entered this tent, and by X'hal, I shall have my carrots, or I shall have vengeance!"
"She's not kidding," said red-Errol-Flynn man from where he was draped over blue-black-spandex man.
"Arsenal and Nightwing," Mike supplied.
"That is much quicker to think," Charity agreed.
"She really likes her vegetables," Nightwing added.
"And so she should," Mike agreed. "A healthy diet of fruit and vegetables is good for you. And you complained about me paying attention to fruit," he added to Charity. "Tut tut."
"I am truly abashed," she agreed. "Also, they did it."
"What?" Mike blinked. "Oh, yes! Yes, the evil Titans stole your vegetables!"
"What?" said Chronos. "No, we didn't!" Charity knew it was Chronos because he was wearing a badge saying 'Hi! I'm Chronos! Ask me about our ten percent off day!'
"See? You can tell they're evil because they're lying about it. Only evil people lie." Mike pointed. "Get them. For great justice!"
They did.
"I was going to ask him about his ten percent off day," Charity complained, as the Titans of Myth and the Titans of New York attacked each other.
"I think they chop a finger off or something," Mike said, shrugging. He grabbed up the shiny, glowy thing and they snuck out the back in the confusion. "That worked out quite well, I think."
"By complete luck," Charity pointed out. Mike waved the shiny, glowy thing at her. "Oh. Well, that ... no, hang on, that makes no sense at all."
"This often happens in the Trader's Market," Mike agreed. "Now, let's all go have ice-cream."
And so they did. Except for the Titans and the other Titans who were still fighting, or possibly having an orgy or something, who knows. And so, once again, the day was saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls!
"You have no idea how to finish this off, do you?" Charity sighed.
"None whatsoever," Mike agreed. "I think I'll just cut if off abruptly in the middle of a sent--"
"Remind me," Charity said, absently juggling apples, body still and arms a blur of dark skinned hands, white sleeves and a half dozen green and red fruit, "why are we here again?"
"Mystical shaman reasons," Mike said. "Also, buy those or put them back. Apples are not for juggling."
"I'm already juggling them," Charity pointed out.
"And it's attracting a lot of custom to my stall," said the vendor happily. "I've made more money in the last twenty minutes than I have in the two days since I arrived at the Traders Market! Thank you, please come again!"
"Seriously, no-one takes twenty minutes to pick their fruit," Charity said, poking Mike. "What are you really doing?"
"Admiring a lovely bunch of coconuts?" Mike waved at them. Everyone looked at the coconuts. "They're very coconutty!"
"Sometimes I think you only invite me along on these gigs so you have someone to be weird at," Charity mused.
"Nonsense! You're also here to beat people up for me." Mike grinned.
"You can just mindblast everybody."
"Yeah, but it looks so much cooler when you do the kung-fu vixen thing like -- ow!" Mike rubbed his head. "Apples aren't for chucking at people's heads either!"
"I already did," Charity pointed out, and threw another one at him. It curved abruptly in mid-air and smacked into his palm and he took a large bite, tossing a handful of slim gold coins to the vendor. "Show off."
"Always," Mike grinned, waving a hand over his purchases which flared out in sequential flashes of gold. "Come on. I found the guy."
"We were looking for a guy?" Charity asked, dropping into step with him as the sauntered away down the aisles between the tents and the stalls and the tents that were stalls.
"I was looking for a guy," Mike corrected. "You were juggling and hitting me."
"Both highly worthwhile endeavors," Charity said pompously, and very British. Mike grinned. "Anyway," she added, "couldn't you have just sent an owl or something? The market is cool and all, but these soft places always feel like... I dunno. One pissed off hellgod away from total dimensional collapse."
"Nonsense! It'd take three at least," Mike said, in between apple bites. "Anyway, where else could you find Pippin Took and Starfire both shopping for carrots?" He waved the apple core at the tiny hobbit and the tall, orange-skinned alien and then ate that too.
"That's quite a nice little nothing she's almost wearing," Charity mused.
"Starfire's the male of his species actually," Mike said. "And stop quoting James Bond movies."
Charity eyed him, then Starfire, then him again. "You're kidding. ...you are kidding, right?" Mike just grinned. Charity looked back at Starfire who was obliviously watching a man in a red Errol Flynn get-up make out with another athletic guy in black and blue spandex. "You're kidding. You're--"
She looked around. He was gone.
"--not here, which means I'm now talking to myself out loud like a crazy person."
"Your friend's over there," Pippin said from waist-height, pointing to where Mike was ducking into a tent. "Say, you couldn't do me a favour, could you? Pass us down those carrots there."
"Carrots? Oh." Charity did. "Thanks."
"Always glad to help out a lady in distress," Pippin said, and hurried off with the carrots.
Charity headed the other way, ducking into the tent in time to hear Mike say, "a kuger a moku?"
He was sat on the opposite side of a wooden board from an incredibly large man occupying a surprisingly small space, like a single mass of muscle. The man grunted acceptance, taking a handful of black glass beads from his pot and putting them on the table.
"Odd," Mike said, and, "there you are," to Charity, and "she's with me," to the man.
He glanced up at her and then rumbled, "There is a small oasis out back that the Servant may enjoy."
"Servant?" Charity said sharply.
"Of the Gods," Mike supplied. "He thinks you're... I'm not actually sure there is an equivalent. A sort of holy woman? It's okay," he added to the man, "her faith doesn't proscribe gambling."
"Uh, no. Totally for the gambling," Charity agreed, and then leaned towards Mike to ask, "why does he think I'm holy?"
"You're wearing white. Also, you're a Slayer. Mystical aura. It's an ancient cultural thing. Oh, this is Hyperion, by the way." He waved at the man. "He has something I want."
"Er, hello. And you're playing ... is that Othello? For this thing." Charity frowned at the board. "No, wait, it's that Japanese one. Go?"
"It's Chinese, but yes," Mike nodded. "Black goes first!"
Charity watched the black and white glass stones being placed on the board. Neither of the two appeared to be thinking about it. Mike's black leather jacket creaked a little when he moved, sliding back and forth against pale skin as he played. Hyperion's hands were the same rusty brown colour as his armor, which rattled like rubbing chains whenever he moved. It was quite a little symphony.
"I thought Go was complicated," she said. "Shouldn't you be considering each move?"
"I am," said Mike. Tak went his piece as it went down and, almost in the echo, tak went Hyperion's piece, and tak went tak the tak next tak pieces. "I'm thinking really quickly?"
Charity eyed him.
"Well, I could be," he said defensively. "I do have massive psychic powers you know."
Hyperion glared. "What power is this you speak of? Do you cheat, foul mage?"
"One, I'm not foul, two, I'm not a mage, and three, you're the one with a stochastic field generator tucked under your goban to affect local probability fields," Mike said, "so I don't see where you get off on suggesting I'm cheating."
"You are though," Charity said. "You've been playing each other's coloured stones since the game began. See, you're actually black, and he's white; you can tell by the pattern of the pieces the order they were played in. He's basically won the game for you with his--" Mike was glaring. "Oh. You didn't want him to know that yet, did you?"
"No," Mike said. "But he got lucky. That's the problem with stochastic field generators. They're hard to focus. Although much less harder than purely magical luck devices which--"
Mike lunged for the board. Hyperion unfolded from his spot and smacked him away with one mighty, meaty fist. Charity quickly charged forward, leaping into a flying kick, adding a backwards somersault kick when the first barely phased the man. Hyperion seemed ready for her to attack again, but she turned the somersault into a flip, grabbing the board on way past. Black and white stones went flying everywhere.
"This is what you want, right?" she asked Mike.
"No, I want the shiny glowy thing," Mike said, pointing at the shiny, glowy thing moving the board had revealed. Hyperion growled. "You really should loosen up," Mike informed him. "Eat more fruit. It's good for the digestion. Charity here has a good trick with apples--"
Charity, recognising a cue when Mike blatantly telegraphed it, chucked the board at Hyperion. He batted it away, swinging towards her, and Mike went the other way, circling around. Charity moved too, widening the distance between them.
"You can not fight me," Hyperion yelled.
"Um, we are?" Charity pointed out.
"Yep," Mike agreed. "Fight scene is happening. Kung fu occurs! Hi-yah!" The other two stared at him. "No one appreciates my sense of humour."
"I shall grind your bones into bread, along with a number of other ingredients!" Hyperion roared. "Bone meal in flour enriches iron intake. And stop trying to sneak around and steal my luck magnet."
"Er, no?" Mike shook his head. "Also, it's not actually a magnet, so--"
"And you can not distract my with your sophistry and constant backtalk," Hyperion added. "Just because I have been reduced to conning people out of their money in the Trader's Market, doesn't mean that I'm without recourse. Behold! My brothers and sisters!"
Eleven more amazingly muscled people appeared in the tent.
"Huh," Mike said. "I wasn't expecting that."
Charity sighed. "Why I let you drag me to these things..."
"You come along because you hope if I go off the rails, you'll have a chance to stop me. And I let you come along because I hope you're right. Which," Mike added cheerfully, "just goes to show we're both masochistic, really. Now, let us fight these ninja-demon-wossnames and go and have some ice-cream because--"
"We're not ninjas or demons," interrupted Hyperion. "We're Elder Gods. Before we were overthrown by the cursed Olympians and the thrice-hated Zeus, we were known as the Titans! Now--"
There was a blast of energy from the doorway. He looked surprised for a moment, then fell over backwards.
"We're the Titans," said Starfire. "Now, which one of you stole my carrots?"
"Huh," Mike said. "I wasn't expecting that either."
"Damn that tiny man," Charity muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, Starfire had alien hearing.
"Yes, the tiny Pip man explained to me how, while we were both buying carrots, my share was stolen, and that someone entered this tent, and by X'hal, I shall have my carrots, or I shall have vengeance!"
"She's not kidding," said red-Errol-Flynn man from where he was draped over blue-black-spandex man.
"Arsenal and Nightwing," Mike supplied.
"That is much quicker to think," Charity agreed.
"She really likes her vegetables," Nightwing added.
"And so she should," Mike agreed. "A healthy diet of fruit and vegetables is good for you. And you complained about me paying attention to fruit," he added to Charity. "Tut tut."
"I am truly abashed," she agreed. "Also, they did it."
"What?" Mike blinked. "Oh, yes! Yes, the evil Titans stole your vegetables!"
"What?" said Chronos. "No, we didn't!" Charity knew it was Chronos because he was wearing a badge saying 'Hi! I'm Chronos! Ask me about our ten percent off day!'
"See? You can tell they're evil because they're lying about it. Only evil people lie." Mike pointed. "Get them. For great justice!"
They did.
"I was going to ask him about his ten percent off day," Charity complained, as the Titans of Myth and the Titans of New York attacked each other.
"I think they chop a finger off or something," Mike said, shrugging. He grabbed up the shiny, glowy thing and they snuck out the back in the confusion. "That worked out quite well, I think."
"By complete luck," Charity pointed out. Mike waved the shiny, glowy thing at her. "Oh. Well, that ... no, hang on, that makes no sense at all."
"This often happens in the Trader's Market," Mike agreed. "Now, let's all go have ice-cream."
And so they did. Except for the Titans and the other Titans who were still fighting, or possibly having an orgy or something, who knows. And so, once again, the day was saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls!
"You have no idea how to finish this off, do you?" Charity sighed.
"None whatsoever," Mike agreed. "I think I'll just cut if off abruptly in the middle of a sent--"