It’s human nature to view life from our own reality.

This causes serious problems when a rescue mission is being led by the senile or insane.

“This isn’t gonna work!” Freak cried out loud.

Everyone agreed with the genius mechanic, but the wizard wasn’t listening.

“Did you listen to the news flash? We don’t have any more time,” Chuck stammered, trying to pull the uniform over his head. Again it stuck. “They’ve set the execution after that stunt Wendell pulled, and now…” It was the beard. Nothing wanted to work when you had what felt like a ten foot beard attached to your face.  “we’re out of…time!” Lili pulled harder until the collar finally popped over the wizards head. “Ahhh,” he sighed, “Thank you my dear.”

She smiled and proceeded to lace her boots.

“I agree with Freak,” grumbled Tumbler, “No one’s gonna believe you ’n me are working for a food delivery joint.” He tugged uncomfortably on his orange and green smock. “I look like a monkey.”

“Monkey’s saving a monkey,” Chuck grinned, “sounds perfect to me.” He sat down at the kitchen table and started braiding his beard into a manly Kutollum style. It wouldn’t do to break into the Centurions headquarters, grab Dax and then foil the whole strategy by tripping over his own face. “Besides, gnomes our age,” he started to say, but reconsidered, “Your age, anyway—are being forced to find new and less appealing forms of employment nowadays. Think about it. How many stores can you walk into now, without some old crony welcoming you, bagging your groceries or walking kids across the street in an orange vest?”

Telly started to chuckle. “He has a point there. You won’t find a single Pall-Mart store that doesn’t have some old prune…” but he hesitated when Tumbler glared back at him. “I-I mean respectable senior citizen, saying ‘welcome to Pall-Mart’.”

“I don’t give a flying TGII what happens with other gnomes. I care about how I have to live my life…and if those guards—and may I remind you that there are THOUSANDS of Centurions in that building—catch us, we’re…”

“Oh poo,” interrupted Chuck. He wrinkled his nose, “Don’t tell me that’s fear I smell? All this noble talk about doing the right thing, making and then a little challenge comes your way…”

“Little!?!” croaked the old gnome, “We’re about to walk into the Citadel dressed a food delivery boys! No one’s gonna buy this!”

The wizard smiled, “But it’s really good food.”

“I don’t care,” grunted Freak, “I’m not doing it.” He tossed the smock onto the kitchen table.

“Yes,” replied Socket, “you are.” She sat hunched over the table, reading each line of the contract Chuck had produced right before dinner. Her eyes sucked up each and every detail as her tiny hands quivered with excitement. “He’s delivered what he’s promised so far and we’re not backing out now.” She flipped the page. “Perfect,” she said, almost in a whisper, “absolutely perfect.”

“Glad you approve,” the wizard smirked, “because it wasn’t easy to get Bellows to agree. However, even at a profit, you’ll be less expensive that the maintenance services he currently uses. With his fleet of delivery vehicles, you’ll have more work than you know what to do with.” he raised a single eyebrow at Freak, “Well, if you make it back, that is.”

Craig shook his head wearily.

Nibbles pulled a small package of what looked like raisins from her packet and started eating. “You still have to deliver two million credits, you know.”

Chuck shook his head. “I still have to deliver two million, eighty-three thousands, four hundred and twelve credits, to be exact.” He grinned wide.

She popped another bite into her mouth. “You make me nervous.”

“Well he’s making me happy,” chirped Socket, “so leave him alone and get ready. You’re all doing this.”

“What if I don’t come back?” pouted Freak, “What if they catch us and decide to throw my in prison?”

His wife considered for only a moment, then beamed her lovely white smile. “Then I’ll build up the business for when you get out.”

Chuck smirked, “Ah, true love.”

All ready to go, Lili looked around the room and frowned. “So explain to me again why I’m the only one in a dress?”

“Because my knees are too boney and I haven’t shaved in over a millennium,” smirked Chuck.

“Because,” winked Telly, nudging her softly with his elbow, “You’re management.”

“I’m…?”

“The one in charge, sweetie,” said Nibbles. “You get to take lead and hopefully, you’ll distract them enough to squeak us all by the cops.”

Lili’s head flopped forward with a moan. “I’m the bait. Again.”

Telly nudged her again. “You really are that cute, ya know.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Oh stop it,” chided the wizard, “we have less than three days before they end my boys life and I want him back!”

“Your boy?” scoffed Socket, wrinkling her nose in open disgust. “But he’s a…”

“HE’S NOT A VALLEN, ALRIGHT?” the wizard boomed. Everyone fell back from him. Eyes focused like lasers, he pointed at her, “Dax is an evolu, born, bred and true. That poor child was cursed and cast out from his own people at no fault of his own. I raised him. I taught him,” he choked, eyes moist, “and I want him back!” Pointing at each in the room, “Your corrupt government wants to execute an innocent elf and I claim him as my own. Anyone have a problem with that?”

Each shook their head in response.

Chuck nodded, satisfied. “Then let’s go shopping and get this poppycock over with!”

****

“Oooooohhhh,” Wendell moaned.

“And they all know about this?”

“Yup,” said Otger, “the whole city.”

“Well I’ll be,” whispered Mal, “You mean after all these years, he actually exists?”

“Yup,” repeated Otger. “And you even called him a turd.”

The preacher flinched. “I did, didn’t I?” He rolled his eyes, “Oh boy. Well—not time to worry about it now—let’s get him up and out of the way .”

Wendell felt many hands over his body, and for what seemed like hours, he floated along. Occasionally his hand brushed against the ground, banging against a can or bumping over an undetermined mound of garbage.

“Put him here. No, over here. I have something soft to place under his head.”

“Is he breathing?” asked a child’s voice.

“Well if he wasn’t breathing, Dain,” replied Mal, “he wouldn’t be able to make a sound, now would he?”

“I guess not.”

“You…guess not.” Sighing, “We need to work on your observation skills, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did it open?” Wendell moaned out loud.

“Sure did,” Otger chimed. “We’re in.”

He tried to lift his head, but every muscle in his body screamed back at him. Again he moaned. “That…was not fun.” He blinked. He could see the familiar yellow and orange glow around him, but the shapes attached to voices were still a blur.

“That was one big jolt you took, kid,” replied Mal, “Don’t try to get up all at once.”

“Didn’t listen to you last time,” Wendell chuckled, forcing himself upright.

“No. No, you didn’t,” the preacher said sheepishly. “Then again, I didn’t know you were a mythical being form another time and place, either.”

Leaning his head from side to side, his neck cracked and popped loudly. “No one said I was a mythical anything. I’m just like you.” Wait a minute. “Well, not like you, but…” That still sounds wrong. “I’m mortal. There. That’s what I meant.”

Mal laughed and patted Wendell on the shoulder, “Not sure I’m going to agree with you on that one. Don’t know if any mortals who’d still be kicking after being blasted across the service road by a bajillion volts ‘o juice.”

“There’s no such thing as a bajill…”

“I know that, Otger,” Mal sighed, “I was just trying to make a simple point, that’s all.”

“Gotcha.”

Wendell blinked a few more times and sure enough, his vision cleared enough to make out a few familiar faces. He smiled at the grinning cab driver, Blane and Trigg, the restaurant owner. But that was it. Mal looked back at him nervously as Wendell glanced around. The small tent town was still torn down and there were only a small handful of children. There was no laughter. No running around. No women, either. “Where is everyone?”

“A lot happened after your escape,” Mal said sadly. He nodded to Blane. Both the cab driver and Trigg walked away. “We had another raid soon after the last transport left.”

“Where’s Enid?” He frowned, “Simon?”

The preacher shrugged, “They took most everyone, kid. First all the women and any of the kids they could catch. When they got here they were pretty angry. Things got really physical.”

Otger shifted uneasily. “Dayl?”

Mal patted the fat gnome’s forearm, “I’m sorry. He blocked the way so these few kids could run off and the Centurions beat him for it. They hauled him off with the last load.” He looked back at Wendell. “Enid, Simon, Jeris, Dayl…all the community leaders, except for me and Trigg. We were taking our turns collecting inside the furnace when they showed up. Didn’t get out here until the last of them were being hauled off in the transport.”

This is a nightmare. Simon was gone. The little boy who considered Wendell as a big brother and the main motivation of coming back had been taken. “I have to find where they’ve been taken,” he stared up coldly at Mal, “and we have to get these gnomes out of here. There’s a place for them at any of the Bellows factories. Just tell them I set you.”

“And get there how?” scoffed Mal, “We don’ know our way. If we get caught…”

“Then you won’t be any worse off than hiding here and waiting to be captured and hauled off. Otger can show you the way.”

The preacher shook his head vigorously, “No. The moment a Centurion sees us…”

Wendell reached out and grabbed the old gnomes arm firmly. “The Centurions have enough to worry about up top. A group of muddles are the last thing to worry about on their list.”

Mal frowned and tried to pull away, but Wendell held him fast. “Don’t call me that.”

“I know you’re not a muddle, Mal. But your not forgotten or useless either. You’re the leader of these kind, unfortunate people. Get them out of here.”

“I can help too,” said a broad shouldered gnome. He stepped forward and tucked his fingers into his front pockets. “I know the paths the Centurions will take  and what streets to avoid. If we do get cornered, I might be able to buy us time or create enough of a diversion.”

Wendell smirked, “And who is this volunteer?”

Mal pushed the young gnome forward. “Do you recall zapping a certain Centurion, so you could sneak on board the transport?”

Eyebrows arched high, “Oh.”

“Name’s Leith,” he said firmly, holding out a hand. Wendell shook it and was surprised to find the grip to be like a piece of iron.

“Sorry about that,” Wendell smirked, but the Centurion’s expression didn’t change one iota.

“Best thing that ever happened to me,” he said evenly. “Joined the force because my father wanted a better life for me. Slaved away on the trash tankers.” He looked around at the furnace landscape, “So this wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination. Took a me a day or two to remember my roots and see what’s been going on down here.”

“Try five or six,” Mal said smugly. “Point is, Leith’s a natural leader. A survivor.” The lightness in his eyes darkened suddenly. He rolled his upper lip between his teeth before speaking. “He also has a secret you need to hear, Wendell.”

Leith waited for the preacher, who nodded encouragement. “We aren’t really Centurions,” he said slowly, “Not like you’d think, anyway. Our team was hand picked months ago—formed based on our backgrounds and religious beliefs.”

Wendell looked between them, confused. “Religious bel…”

“We work for the Church, not the government.”

Oh boy, his heart sank. On one hand, it was good to know that the government wasn’t abducting their own citizens…but on the other… “Why would the Church  kidnap people? Isn’t one of their responsibilities to care for the poor and the needy?” He looked to the preacher, his hands starting to shake, “Who needs assistance and love…and kindness more than everyone living down here?!” Then shouting, “What the hell kind of religion is this!?”

Both Leith and Otger gasped.

“Now watch it!” Mal chastised, whipping out an index finger. Like a short sword, he brought it to bare on Wendell. “You may be the Gnolaum, but my beliefs go way beyond you sucker, so watch your mouth.”

“Sorry.”

“The Temple of TGII, which some refer to at times as the Temple of Nothing, is founded on a belief that the universe is all planned. A great, grand device. Perfect in its functions and never having an extra part. Every single thing in existence has a purpose, Wendell. It’s as simple as that.” A smile peeked out from under the dirt and grime as he talked, a light shining from his eyes. “So don’t go judging the precepts of my beloved religion because your forced to deal with the rusted cogs in the system.”

None of this was making any sense. Wouldn’t a group of homeless gnomes generate questions? Wouldn’t someone notice? He turned back to Leith.

“Where do you take people when you pick them up from here?”

The Centurion didn’t hesitate with his answer. “We have a drop off point, near the sewers at the back of the Temple. Our commanding officer would radio in our arrival time, and monks would be there to escort the captives into the Temple.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “And you don’t have a clue what happens to any of them after that?”

“No sir. When we’re done, we get paid and we’re sent back to our separate districts. If we talk about the job, we’re never called on again and we’re excommunicated from the Church.”

“And you don’t want that, do you?” Wendell added.

Leith looked shocked, “Of course not!”

“But you’re kidnapping innocent people and taking them to an undisclosed fate, Leith. That didn’t ever bother you in the least? Not even once?”

The Centurion shook his head, “We’re told that these were apostates, who were hiding and plotting against the Church, seeking the downfall of the Temple.”

Wendell laughed out loud, but it was more out of frustration. “These people? Seriously?!” These sweet, kind, malnutritioned rejects of society?

Leith shrugged. “You’d be surprised at what one will believe when they refuse to question their spiritual leaders.”

Sighing, “Yeah…I can see that.”

Mal patted Leith on the back, “It’s alright, son. We appreciate the information. Why don’t you have everyone start gathering their things. We’re going to do as the Gnolaum suggests.”

“Just Wendell, Mal,” he replied, flinching at the title. “Please just call me Wendell.”

The preacher nodded at Leith, but the young gnome hesitated. For the first time, his face softened. Maybe it was the conditioning, but his emotions seemed at war. “I did this because I was trying to protect others from a bad influence,” he said softly. He looked to Mal and swallowed hard, “I was wrong. It took me to suffer with these kind people to know I was serving the bad influence.” He sniffed, “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

He turned and walked away.

Wendell watched the Centurion wander through the mounds of trash, until he found a small child, all alone. Smiling brightly, he knelt down and held out a hand, leading the child towards the rest of the group. If there’s been a change of heart during all the commotion…all the chaos in Clockworks, that was a great example. He looked at Mal soberly. “I’m guessing it wasn’t just sitting down here that changed his mind.”

The preacher shrugged slightly, “Maybe not.”

“The Church hates me, Mal. They’re the ones that threw me down the garbage chute.” Then he had to laugh. It was so stupid, it was funny. “Now that they know who I actually am, they hate me even more.”

Otger shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

Mal smiled kindly. “Best you go help Leith, alright?”

The fat gnome nodded quickly, “Good idea,” he stammered, then bounced away.

Both waited until they were completely alone.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh last time you were here.”

Wendell smirked, “No you’re not.”

“You’re right. You were a turd.”

“Agreed.”

“Hmmm, I sense humble seeds growing within you.”

Laughing, “More like a frustrated acknowledgement that you’re right.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t know anything about the Church, Mal, and they want me dead. Why?”

Settling down on a crate, the old gnome yawned. “You’re upsetting the balance.”

Balance? “What balance? All I did was try to win at a national sport.”

Mal smiled, “Really? Was that all you were trying to do—or were you using the games as a way to something else?”

Well…ok, so I was trying to create a platform to speak from, but he wasn’t going to admit that openly. “Maybe.”

The preacher sat there, silent.

“Oh, alright,…I was trying to win, so I could deliver a speech to the whole of the city.”

“To do what?”

“To gain favor with the people,” Wendell said firmly. “People are being controlled by…,” but he stopped. Mal was already grinning. “The Government and Religious factions have major control over the people.”

“You already knew that, Wendell, you see it every day—you just didn’t stop to think about it…enough. They worked to manipulate every election, every business, every guild, every soul in this city…which forced the Gnome Resistance Revolutionaries into existence.”

He knows about the G.R.R.? “How do you…?” he started to say, but Mal  caught his shocked expression and scoffed.

Waving his hand, “Please, everyone knows about the freedom faction. Most of us talk about it behind closed doors. The only difference between them and the other two giants is the G.R.R. doesn’t push their agenda. I learned of their existence while I still worked in the cloth. They wield more power than they realize. The Church hates them, because they’re afraid of them. They’re afraid because it’s about choice. The revolutionaries set decisions in front of you. Simple.  Powerful. You’re in charge of your life.” He sighed, “The Church wants to make those choices for you…so the ‘thinking’ is already done.”

A short gust of air pushed loose papers and tumbled empty containers down a nearby mound as the furnace kicked on. The thunderous hum was followed by a pulsing of heat which whipped past them. The warm air gently rolled across their faces, carrying with it a dry scent of decay. Wendell stared at the gargantuan machine. He’d never noticed the shifting of air before.

“The heat’s being sucked out the door you opened.”

Ahh. Wendell nodded, his mind going back to the conversation. The whole thought of the Church coming after and rounding up the muddles was disturbing. On many levels. First, it meant the Church…or those in charge, anyway, had ill intent. If this was something charitable, wouldn’t someone have heard about it? He glanced over at the group, now gathering their things to leave. Wouldn’t they be asked, instead of forced to leave? It also meant that Noah, or whomever was behind this, had influence with the Centurions and could manipulate the laws.

Otger slowly strode back into view. At first he kept his distance, watching Wendell carefully.

“Can I see it?” Mal asked suddenly. His face was contorted, unsure. “The Ithari is what we talk about, learn about…and of course, you.”

Wendell tried not to laugh, “I’m not a reincarnated being, you know. I’ve never been here before.” He smirked, “Promise. I’m just a guy with a really stressful job.”

The gnome scratched his head, “Well that’s disappointing. We were taught that you were the same host all through the ages. Huh.” He studied Wendell for a moment, eyes wandering to the yellow smiley face. It winked back at him. “But it is under there? The gem?”

“Yes sir.” Then in just above a whisper, he leaned forward and added, “And it drilled itself into the center of my chest.”

Mal gulped, pulling away ever-so-slightly. “Drilled?”

Nodding, “Right through skin and bone.”

“Eww.”

“More like ow.”

“Right. Well…can I?”

Wendell lifted his shirt. The orange and yellow light from the furnace reflected off it’s perfect surface, made it pulse. The effect looked like the gem was breathing in unison with Wendell.

Mal stared in silence.

Otger swayed from side to side, this time, waving his hand above his head. Neither of them noticed.

“What can you tell me about the Church, Mal.” He lowered his shirt, which caused the gnome to blink. “I need to know anything that might help me.” he shrugged, “Or protect me.”

“Noah’s the one you have to watch. It’s been years since I worked in the Temple, so I don’t know who’s still there, but Noah’s the dagger. He’s shrewd, devious and desperate for power. Obsessed. His eye has always been on the Arch Bishop’s scepter.”

“Arch Bishop?”

“Arch Bishop Dillian. Good gnome, head of the Order—but he doesn’t have many years left and Noah had already taken control of most functions when I was inducted into the clergy.”

“Uh, guys?” Otger piped up.

“Just a second,” replied Mal. “The real power with the Church lay within their followers and the contributions. This rest heavily on the normals, not the poor. Normals have discretionary credits, so they can give more. In turn, Noah changed the way we followed the repentance process.”

Wendell frowned, “Ok, this is getting a bit heavy for me.”

“You wanted to know how the Church worked…and how to protect yourself. “ The deep lines in the preachers forehead reappeared, “The best way I can do that is show you where the power is. That’s credits and influence. Both allow Noah to manipulate others. That’s why he can’t control the poor. They’re not overly swayed by the money. They don’t have any and the Church needs to take, not give. Make sense?”

“Guys?” Otger said again, this time in a higher pitch.

“Hold on!” Mal snapped. He grabbed three small cans from the ground and placed them on a bucket between them. Arranging them in a triangle, he then placed a wilting box on top. “This is the Church and these three pillars are your power base. Credits, influence and leadership. Take one away,” he grabbed a can and the box teetered, “and you make the whole structure unstable. However, if you can take away two of the supports,” he quickly snatched a second can, sending the box flipping over the edge of the bucket. “It comes tumbling down.”

Otger stepped in between them. “Guys!” he snapped.

“Oh, in the name of TGII,” snapped Mal, “what is so blasted important?!”

The fat gnome was sweating profusely, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I forgot something.” He stared up at Wendell, “When we opened the door.”

“What…did you forget?”

“When you trigger the failsafe on the motor, it also triggers the alarm.”

Wendell gulped. That doesn’t sound… “What alarm?”

Otger wiped the sweat collecting across his brow, “The alarm to the Utilities  Guild and the Citadel.”

“Citadel?” coughed Mal, “Why on this cruddy planet would a furnace alarm alert Centurions?!”

Sheepishly, “In case the accident wasn’t an accident.” He blinked and frowned at Wendell, “Like what we just did.”

Oh boy. “Get everyone up and moving. Leave it all behind—I’ll figure something out, but we have to…”

Children screamed and scattered as a giant transport pulled through the furnace doors—lights flashing. Two by two’s, Centurions jumped from the vehicle and formed a barrier in front of their only escape route.

Wendell cringed. “…run.”

****

“No, you can NOT pick at the food,” Chuck snapped at Telly, slapping the mechanics hand. “Pick up the pace, people—this smell has to last us.”

“Relax,” Tumbler grunted at Freak, who pulled at his smock for the hundredth time. “You look fine.” The old gnome pushed the catering box across the walkway. “Can’t say the same for this wobbly wheel!”

“I look like a high school drop out that can’t get a real job,” Craig grumbled.

Nibbles giggled, enjoying the whole charade, “Well we know the truth about you. Sexy, brilliant inventor and mechanic,…now a secret agent on his way to break out a known criminal…”

“SHHH!” snapped the wizard, but she just grinned back.

“Are you sure that no one will remember you from the last time we were here?” asked Lili. “You did leave several impressions.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, “And I left my staff at home, so I wouldn’t leave any others! No. I am not sure I won’t be noticed. It’s the night shift. Should be different staff.”

“We’re about to find out,” Telly cut in. “Look.”

As they all walked across the street, people were running in and out of the Citadel. Centurions and what looked like a gnome version of firemen were sprinting to vehicles parked out front the silver building. Red and blue lights flashed brilliantly in the night air, while leaders shouted at their teams.

“Wonder what’s goin’ on?” said Telly.

Chuck grabbed the tall gnome’s smock and pulled, “Come on—we can use this distraction to our benefit.”

“I’m not comfortable doing the talking,” Lili piped up.

“Got it covered,” chimed the wizard. Pulling a paper from his pocket, he read it out loud. “President Shrub, check. Has two kids—teenagers, check. Twins, check. Known to like pizza and,” he lifted the bag in his hand. It contained several clear, plastic containers filled with noodles and what he was assuming were vegetables.  He looked over at the buffet container Tumbler was pushing, “whatever that’s supposed to be, from Cho-Cho’s-Goo-Boo-Diner…check.”

Lili scooted closer, “You’re going to remember all this?”

He laughed out loud, “Of course not. That’s why the senile one should do it!” He pushed her through the front door of the Citadel and held it open for the rest of the group. “Everybody in and don’t say a word!”

The lobby looked almost barren compared to their last visit. A few guards rushed past them to get outside, which made Freak flinch. One Centurion paused, looking at the mechanic curiously, then shook it off.

A gaunt gnome with a thick brown mustache waved the group forward. “Next!”

Lili hesitated as the conversations around her slowed to a stuttering halt. Cops and convicts seemed to be overly aware of her presence, and turned to stare. Shifting uncomfortably, Lili pulled her suit coat tighter around her.

Plopping the bag of food up onto the counter, Chuck slid up behind it. He clumsily leaned his elbow on the desk. “Good,” he said relieved, “someone mature to talk to for a change.” He flicked his eyebrows up and down at the Centurion, who seemed amused. “I don’t mean to complain, sir, but the younger boys around here don’t seem to have appropriate respect for those of our…shall I say, levels of experience in life?”

The officer rolled his eyes, “Tell me about it.”

“Irritating.”

“Aggravating AND annoying.”

Chuck tapped his knuckle on the counter and leaned in closer, “Then I don’t want to disturb your evening any more than I have to, sir…but I need your help.”

Adjusting his hat, “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” the wizard looked over his shoulder at Lili—who was still fidgeting uncomfortably at all the stares. “You see that lovely young girl there?”

It took a moment for the beauty to register and seep into the gnomes brain, but he smiled with gusto when it hit. “Indeed I do.”

“She…is my boss.” He feigned annoyance, “As much as I hate to admit it.”

Leaning on his hands, the officer gawked at Lili, “Doesn’t seem like a bad job to me, if…I say so myself.”

“Oh,” Chuck went on, “not when I’m gawkin’, no—but I mean, having a near child being in charge. You see, I’m in training tonight…and this is my very first delivery run.” He poked the Centurion to get his attention. “And I was sent here! To this respectable, important place,” he shook his head in mock disbelief, “….me!” Scratching an eyebrow, “If I don’t prove I can do this, officer—she’s going to kick my wrinkly butt back to scrubbing dishes.” Another poke. “Dishes! With the TEENAGERS!”

The officer sat upright, as if waking from a dream. “That’s…horrible! No self-respecting gnome of our…,” he paused, “maturity should have to—but, how is it that I can help you?”

Pulling the paper from his pocket, Chuck started to read. “Six large jungle pizza’s,…three orders of Cho-noodles…”

At the mention of ‘Cho’, eyes shifted from Lili to the wizard.

“…two orders of pickled shrooms in dancin’ duck sauce,…four orders of fish friers with a side of chopped garlic in blue wine …”

Tongues rolled over lips.

“Eight orders of Cho’s-Goo-Boo-Dumplings…” he looked back at Telly, “that does sound tasty,…” then lifting the list closer to his nose, “and three Party-Platter-Explosions.”

“Goodness!” exclaimed the officer, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth, “That’s enough to feed a small army! Who is this for?”

Chuck frowned, “Well, that’s the strange part. I’ve never been here, but this is the address. The note says, ‘Top Floor. Twins. Guards will COD.’” He stared helplessly and shrugged, “I have no idea what that means. Do you?”

Several of the Centurions at the counter smirked, cleared their throats and went back to their work. The older officer chuckled.

“That would be the Shrub kids.”

Chucks bushy eyebrows crinkled up like storm clouds over his face, “As in…President…Shrub?”

Nodding, “They tend to order food when their father’s not looking. We get it pretty often around here.”

“So it’s ok for us to take this up?” the wizard asked hopefully.

The officer smiled, “Oh, sure! You just have to sign here,” he slid a ledger across the counter, “ and take two guards with you to the elevator. That’s it.”

The whole crew seemed to perk up with this turn of events. No one thought it would be this easy to get into the heavily fortified Citadel, which was a complete relief.

Chuck signed the paper and slipped his fingers through the bag loops. Lifting the food from the counter, he asked, “Why only to the elevators?”

The officer checked the signature. “Because if anything goes wrong after that, the presidents security detail will personal shoot you.”

****

The walk to the elevator was a lot longer than anyone anticipated. Nearly forty-five minutes, weaving in and out of halls, which meant that escape was going to be complicated—if not virtually impossible. But it wasn’t the distance that slowed the pace down…it was the photographing.

The Centurions escorts guided the party through four different checkpoints where each gnome had to be photographed. When questioned, one of the guards said it was for facial recognition software, which was constantly running while anyone was in the building.

“So,” Freak chirped up, “has anyone…I don’t know…broken into the Citadel?”

None of them took the hysterical laughter as a good sign.

They’d been waiting in the elevator for almost ten minutes. The lift rang out with a delicate bell at each floor they passed. Completely and utterly annoying.

“So what are we going to do when we get there?” Freak panicked. “We don’t know how many guards, where they are, if they have,” he gulped, “…weapons.”

The wizard kept rocking back and forth on his heels. He stared at the rolling numbers as the bell sounds numbed his mind. “Got it covered.”

“But,” Freak moaned.

“Covered.”

“I think we,” started Nibbles.

“Covered.”

Tumbler frowned, “Wait a,”

“Covered.”

“If you have everything covered,” Lili cut in, “then why did you need everyone to come along?”

Chuck looked at the girl as if she was insane. “You don’t think I’m going to do any heavy lifting, do you?” He frowned, “I’m fragile.”

The elevator dinged. The doors slid silently open to a panoramic view of a luxurious penthouse.

…and guns pointed at them.

“Show me the food,” barked the one with the off blue tie.

“I believe,” Chuck corrected him, “is ‘Show me the money.’”

“OUT!” snapped the one with the blue tie.

Hands held high, they all exited the elevator. Tumbler banged the cart along with his bad hip.

Bang. “Ow.” Bang. “Ow.” Bang. “Ow.”

“Why all the yelling,” called a young voice from the kitchen. A moment later, a young boy peered around the corner. “What’s the…hey, who ordered…”

“The extra’s?” cut in Chuck, stepping away from the guards and lowering his hands. “It was compliments from Master Cho. He sends his compliments.” Hopeful, he flicked his eyebrows up and down. “We brought enough food for everyone, as ordered—including the Party-Platter-Explosions for the security detail.”

“For us?” exclaimed the one on the blue tie. He grinned at his partner in the off blue tie. “Kip actually thought about…us?”

Both guns lowered.

“It is kinda sweet,” replied the one in the off blue tie. “I thought he only liked to put food coloring in our laundry.”

“Well you guys are always there,” shrugged Kip, stepping closer and keeping his eyes glued to the wizard. “And I felt that I owe you. For all the lousy things I’ve done to make your job harder.” He laughed softly, “Besides, I put it on my dad’s account, so why not shoot for the stars, eh?”

No one laughed.

“Right,” said Kip, motioning to the kitchen, “you want to set up the spread then?”

“That’s what I brought them for,” beamed Chuck.

A young girl wandered out from the hall and immediately froze. “Who are all…”

“I ordered food, Buffy,” Kip said quickly. He looked back to the wizard. “They brought enough for us and the security guys.”

“And Dax,” whispered the wizard.

Both youth smirked acknowledgement.

“I’ll go grab dad. He’s really hungry too.”

Chuck’s eyes grew wide, “Oh no—we don’t want to disturb him!”

Her smile got bigger, “Oh, he’ll want something to eat.” She vanished down the hall.

Kip grinned as he opened the small bag. “Trust us.”

Within minutes the food was displayed across the kitchen bar. The portable dolly folded out into a tiered stand, layered with the delectable of the Party-Platter-Explosions. Chips and dip and stir-fry and BBQ. The two guards grabbed their plates and loaded them up. Without a threat to worry about, they wandered into a corner to munch away.

Buffy pushed a wheelchair into the kitchen. “Gentlegnomes,” she said, adding a nod to Lili and Nibbles, “and ladies. May I introduce my father, President Shrub.” The overweight gnome looked overly pale. His flesh had an off green tone to it. Sweat beaded along his cheeks and forehead, his thinning hair oily and caked to his scalp.

“He doesn’t look so good,” whispered Nibbles. She took a step back.

“No,” Chuck added, “he doesn’t.” He knelt down in front of the wheelchair.

“They’ve drugged him,” Kip whispered softly. “To keep him quiet.”

Telly snorted, “Well that don’t make any sense at all. Bad people turning on bad people?”

“My father isn’t bad,” challenged Buffy. She glared warningly at the mechanic, “He’s been drugged because he tried to defend Dax.”

“Defend?” muttered Tumbler.

The two guards slumped down to the floor.

“Right!” Chuck popped to his feet. “We’ll get to the bottom of this in just a second.” He tapped telly in the chest, “You—move those two into a back room somewhere.” Glancing at Kip, “Are there any other security in the penthouse?”

The youth shook his head, “The rest of the detail is with Ian TwoFold, my fathers…”

“Lapdog, I know him,” the wizard grunted. “Still don’t know how you can breed a beaver with a gnome.” The twins laughed. “Where’s my monkey?”

“Excuse me?” said Kip.

Chuck sighed, “Dax! My elf. Where is he?”

“I’ll take you to him,” volunteered Buffy. “They moved him to his own room after my father tried to sneak him out of here.”

As they moved around the wheelchair, a pale hand reached out to grip the wizards wrist.

“He…said you’d come for him,” the president wheezed.

“Take me to him,” Chuck said firmly, pulling his wrist free. “Now.”

Down the hallway, at the back end of the apartment, was the lone guest room. The stench assaulted the mägo’s senses as the door creaked open. Dax lay in the center of the small bed, a halo of grey and brown seeping out across the white sheets from his body. Tubes protruded from his arms, connected to purple sacks hanging on metal hooks.

“What is all this,” Chuck snarled. He briskly walked to the far side of the bed and gripped the dangling tubes.

“Don’t!” she cried, “If you disturb the medication, they’ll shoot him.”

Gnarled fingers uncurled.

Buffy stepped closer to the bed, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater. “They warned my brother and I that if we tampered with anything in here, they’d put a bullet in his head.” She looked at the wizard pleadingly, “We didn’t want to see him hurt.”

Chucks expression softened. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said softly. “And…thank you.”

“He’s nice.”

The wizard looked at her curiously. “Not something I thought I’d here about a criminal.”

“He’s no criminal.” With a finger, she traced the muscles in the back of Dax’s hand. “I got to talk to him a few times…when they let him wake up.” She smiled then, but more to herself. “He was always more concerned about me getting in trouble for talking with him, than for himself.” Her eyes watered as she looked up. “Nice.”

In a flurry of movement, Chuck dashed back to the door and jiggled the knob. Leaning down, he tapped the metal plate holding the knob in place. “Bah!” he grunted, “Nothing.” With that, he flung the door open and ran to the next door.

Curious, Buffy followed closely behind him. “What are you doing?”

He tapped on the next plate and frowned. Dashing to the next room, “Looking for a door.”

She crinkled her lips to one side, “Uhhh…they’re all doors, mister.”

“My name, young lady,” he said with another tap and a grunt, “is Morphiophelius. You,” he paused to give her one of his dashing grins, “may call me Chuck.” Another tap, this time followed by a whispered curse, “And no, these are most certainly not doors.” But he skidded to a halt. “Well, alright—they are doors, of course…but not the one I’m looking for. Right. That sounds correct.”

Skipping backwards out of his way, “But, if you know what door you’re looking for, why don’t you simply go to it directly?”

Bobbing upright, he looked at her aghast. “My dear child, I’ll have none of that philosophical mumbo-jumbo in this conversation if you please!” He threw his head to one shoulder, popping his neck, “Go to it directly! Pshaw. You cannot go to something that has yet to be placed, child! I simply know where it might be at any given time. Hence, why I am looking.” He held out his hands in a TA-DA pose, “Understand?”

Buffy stared at him and silently chewed on her bottom lip.

He sighed. “Oh for…just leave the inter-dimensional carpentry to the mägo, alright?”

“Chuck!” shouted Lili from the kitchen, “Quickly!!”

She was kneeling by Shrubs side…the president wheezing and coughing, but focused on her.

“What is it?”

“We have to leave. Now.”

“Not without the monkey.”

“You…won’t…make it,” Shrub coughed. “Ian has…Dax tagged.” He tapped his forearm weakly, “Tracker.”

“Mahan’s Pink Panties,” the wizard cursed.

“And they’ll…kill the…children.” Bloodshot eyes peered up at the wizard pleadingly. “Take…them…with you,” he gasped for breath. “I gave…Wendell my word,” he swallowed hard. His cold hand grabbed at Buffy’s fingers, “They’re all I…have.”

“We’ve talked about this late at night,” Kip cut in, placing a supportive hand on his fathers shoulder. “Ian thought we were saying our prayers together. The only way to get Dax free is from the outside. You’ll have a hundred different alarms go off before you hit the lobby, including a thousand armed soldiers.”

“It’s impossible,” gasped Tumbler.

“We have to get out of here!” cried Freak, “Before this Ian guy gets back!!”

Chuck ran around the counter and across the entryway.

“Are you listening!?” shouted the fat gnome.

“Empty the cart,” Chuck snapped. He grabbed the next doorknob and tapped on it. Rattled it. Nothing. He looked back at his group. “Why are you all standing around!?! MOVE! NOW! Get those kids in the cart, lock it up, GET IN THE ELEVATOR!”

Lili moved calmly across the floor and rested a tender hand on his back.

Without a word, his head fell forward against the door and silently wept.

“We’ll come back.”

“No, we won’t,” he sniffed, “They have our faces. We don’t get a second chance this time.”

“You’ll find a way,” she whispered. “Though the winds howl and the world rails against you, love always provides wings for her own. Nothing can stop her children…not even death.”

He turned suddenly to stare at Lili. He searched her face, blinking away his tears.

Warm brown eyes smiled back at him. Holding him. “I remember you now,” she beamed softly.

He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like moan. “You were so little. So hurt.”

She brushed one of his wild eyebrows back against his forehead, “But you were right, wanderer. You were right then, and you are right…”

“WINGS!” he burst out, spittle flinging from his lips. Embarrassed, he took his smock sleeve and aggressively wiped Lili’s cheek. “Sorry! So sorry about that!” Grabbing her hand, he yanked her towards the elevator. “Everyone in!”

Buffy blew her father a kiss as Telly pushed her head down into the cart. He clamped the lid shut. Pulling the Cho-Cho’s-Goo-Boo-Food-Barn cloth over the top, he shoved it into the elevator.

Chuck gasped and yanked a small device from his pocket. Darting across the floor, he slid up to Shrub and leaned over the cripple. “Almost forgot! Could you…yes, place your thumb print righhhhht there. Perfect.” The device beeped. “Thank YOU!”

Lili couldn’t help but giggle, watching the wizard bounce across the apartment and into the elevator. His entire face was a beacon of glee. They all stood solemnly as Chuck clicked the button to go down.

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” Tumbler muttered unde this breath.

“I just can’t believe we’re kidnapping the Presidents kids!” gasped Freak.

“Personally,” mumbled Nibbles, “I can’t believe the President is such a nice guy.”

All Chuck could say was, “WINGS!”

President Shrub watched the doors close on his children. Steel doors that closed his old life.  On his future. He had no idea where all this would lead.

…and he smiled.