You see, I have ascertained through eavesdroppin' that health, and specifically healthy consumables, is a very big issue with these upwardly mobile folks. It's like they're used to thinkin' that you can get anythin' with enough money ... and they've gotten it into their heads that by spendin' more for health foods and health drinks, they is never gonna die. Of course, they spend so much time worryin' and naggin' each other about good health, that they tend to generate sufficient stress to keel over and croak from heart attacks ... but this seems to be an acceptable, if not desirable, option as it is generally viewed as "the high pressure which is the mark of a successful career person" and therefore has become somethin' of a badge of status. What is somehow overlooked in all this is that much of the stress is needless anxiety they inflict upon themselves by worryin' about such things as status and health foods.
Perhaps it is because of the high-risk nature of my chosen profession, but I personally have no illusions of my own immortality. The way I see it, there are enough unpredictable things in life that can kill you that the only rational approach to life is to take what little pleasures youse can as they presents themselves, so that when your number comes up, you can at least die knowin' you've had a full and happy life. I think that life should be more than an exercise in self-denial, and even if I was guaranteed that I could live forever by abstainin', I'd probably continue my occasional indulgences. I mean, who wants to live forever ... particularly if that life has been designed to be borin' and devoid of pleasure?
I am reflectin' on this when a broad elbows her way in next to me at the bar. At first I think she is just really desperate for a drink, which as I said is understandable considerin' the slow service, and step aside, usin' my not inconsiderable bulk to make room for her.
"Got my target picked out for me?"
It takes a second for me to realize that I am the one this question is bein' addressed to, as she sez it casual without lookin' at me direct.
"Tananda?" I sez, lookin' at her hard.
She is wearin' a different disguise tonight ... a shoulder length cloud of dark curls and a dress made of some clingy fabric that ... well, shows off everything she's got underneath it.
"Don't look at me!" she hisses, quietly grindin' a heel onto my toe to emphasize her point while glancin' at the ceilin'. "We aren't supposed to know each other ... remember?"
"Oh, right ... sorry."
I go back to starin' into my glass, doin' my best to ignore her presence ... which is not easy as the crowd is pressin' a considerable amount of her against me as we're standin' there.
"Okay, who's our pigeon?"
"You see the two broad-shouldered guys at our table? The loud ones? I figure the one on the left will do you just fine."
Guide and I have decided on Shu Flie for our victim. Of the crew, we're probably the least fond of the Flie brothers, and while either of them would probably serve our purposes, Shu is the more dominant and might start trouble if Tananda made a play for his brother instead of him. As our objective is to cause trouble between the army and the civilians, fightin' within our own ranks would be counter-productive.
"Who's the yummy one across the table from the animals?"
I sneak a peek behind me to be sure who she's talkin' about.
"That? That's Junebug. He used to be an actor or a dancer or somethin'."
"He'll do," she sez firmly, a predatory note creepin' into her voice.
I refrain from lookin', but have a strong suspicion she is lickin' her lips ... mentally, if not physically.
"I don't think that's such a hot idea. Tananda," I sez. "There's sort of a thing goin' between him and Spyder. At least, she's got a thing for him."
"Who?"
"Spyder. The chick in uniform sittin' next to him."
"That's female?"
While, as you know, I had much the same reaction the first time I met Spyder, for some reason it bothers me hearin' it from Tananda.
"Don't let the hair fool you." I sez, "She's pretty tough."
"That's sweet of you, Guido," Tananda sez, misunderstandin' what I was sayin', "but the day I can't hold my own against that, I'll hang it up. Well, off to work."
"What I mean is ..." I try to say, but Tananda is already gone, slitherin' after Junebug like some kind of feline snake sidlin' up to a drunk canary.
This is just swell! While I suppose our "army vs. civilians" objective could be achieved by a cat fight between Tananda and Spyder, it wasn't exactly what we had in mind when we planned this scenario.
As it turns out, though, I needn't have worried. Watchin' from the bar, I see Junebug respond to Tananda's come-on like a first offender latchin' onto his lawyer, and instead of startin' a fight, Spyder just stands up and stomps out of the place with a scowl on her face and her ears laid back in her multicolored hair.
"Who's that talking to your buddy?" Frumple sez, materializin' in front of me.
I make a big show of lookin' back at our table.
"Just a broad." I shrug casual-like, signallin' for a refill. "Why?"
"No reason. For a minute there I thought she looked familiar is all."
He heads off down the bar to fetch my drink, leavin' me a little uneasy. I tell myself there is no reason why the Deveel should recognize Tananda, as her current disguise bears no resemblance to her regular appearance. Still, he is an unstable element in the current equation, and I would just as soon keep him out of it entirely, if possible.
"I thought we were targeting Shu Flie?" Nunzio sez, easin' in beside me at the bar. It may have been crowded where we were, but people usually manage to make room for someone Nunzio's size, especially if he's talkin' to someone my size.
"We were," I sez. "But Tananda has her own ideas on the subject."
"Well it sure put Spyder's nose out of joint. I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. Unless it was the time ..."
"Hey ... Abdul!"
It was Junebug, standin' right behind us tryin' to get Frumple's attention. He has his arm draped around Tananda's shoulders, but if you look real close youse can see that she is actually holdin' up most of his weight.
"Yeah? What do you want?"
Though he wasn't particularly pleasant about it, the speed with which any of our crew could get the Deveel's attention was evidence that he hadn't forgotten we all knew his secret.
"I ... we need ... a room."
"There aren't any available."
Frumple starts to turn away, only to find his movement is restricted ... specifically by my cousin who has reached across the bar and taken hold of his shoulder.
"Give him a room," Nunzio sez, soft-like.
Now, when Nunzio talks quiet like that, it usually means he is about to lose his temper ... which, in this case, is understandable. I mean, we have put an awful lot of trouble into this setup to have it thwarted by anything silly like room availability.
"But there aren't any ..."
"Give him the room you keep for yourself. You're going to be too busy down here to use it for awhile."
"I'm not that busy," the Deveel argues, tryin' to twist out of Nunzio's grip. "And if ..."
"You could be a lot busier ... if you know what I mean," Nunzio sez, startin' to tighten his hand.
"All right! Okay! Here!" Frumple sez, producin' a key from his pocket and passin' it to Junebug. "Last door on the right!"
"Thanks, Nunzio," Junebug calls over his shoulder as he and Tananda weave their way toward the stairs.
My cousin waits until they are out of sight before he bothers to release his grip on Frumple.