Editing Toyhammer (section)

=Chapter 26=

I slumbered.

Now, I usually don't use slumber as the word for what I do when I rest my head on a pillow and fall asleep, but it was appropriate this time. It was a rare time that I experienced this one true unconsciousness; the peaceful rest of someone who had finished a hard day's work and was now looking forward to dream's embrace. Or just silence. That was good, too.

Clutching a pillow to my head, I slumbered.

Too bad it didn't last for long.

The bed shifted, the weight of another making the surface warp towards the center of their mass. My arm was lifted off the bed as the other slipped in, wrapping around the slim frame of my warm bedmate, and I sighed slightly, warming the back of her neck as she echoed my sentiment. The night was cold, and it was snowing again, promising a powdery field that I would have to scoop up the next morning. Oh well, time to enjoy what I had right now. I pressed my lips gently against the back of her neck, and she snuggled a little closer in response. My other hand wormed its way around her from underneath, and thus settled we fell back to sleep in each others' arms. Well, she fell asleep in mine, btu that's not the point.

Morning came easily, with the sky brightening slowly as sunlight started streaming in through the window. The curtains had been positioned perfectly (through weeks of adjustment) to throw a narrow beam of lukewarm light over my face just as the clock struck seven thirty, just in time for the bedside clock to go up like a little brass bomb. Ringing, the alarm clock was rattling off its usual fanfare of chirpy tones, and I reached out for it. Gently, I slapped the top of the clock, settling it to silence. It was an older model, a classic box with an old school readout and a big button on top. It was something that had been with me for years. I slapped it down one more time, to make sure that it would stay silent, then prepared myself for the daunting task to leave the warm haven that was my bed.

Stretching came first; my legs, back and arms flexing as they worked out all the stiffness of sleep, and then it was out of bed. Rolling my neck, I picked through a pile of discarded clothes that sat on my table, and after a little rummaging I found a long sleeved shirt to throw on, and tousled hair was raked back with my hand as I opened the door and padded down the stairs, collecting the neon green bunny slippers ('Rad Rabbits') as I left the room.

My nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of flowers warmed by the sun, and the smell of toast, garlic butter and bacon. The crack of eggs, the rustle of salt being poured. Eyes still closed, I enjoyed the fragrance of a beautiful morning as I listened to the rattle of cutlery. Slumber's sand was wiped from my eyes as I rubbed my face, and I yawned. It was enjoyable, for once. Mouth agape, the yawn stretched my cheeks as I arched my back, letting my tonsils (or had they been removed? I couldn't remember. Maybe when I was eight...) wave hello to the world.

Ah, that felt good.

There was a deliciously smooth, throaty laugh from behind me. I couldn't help but let my lips curl into a smile as – still posed triumphantly from my victory over sleep – I turned to face the voice. Zara stood there, her ebony hair bundled into a long ponytail that was tied around the back of her neck. She had dressed in a loose fitting shirt and shorts, although I could only tell that because the bottom half-inch of the shorts were poking out from under the shirt as she bent over.

"Whoa. You look good this morning."

"And good morning to you too, mon cheri."

Amused, I found that my tone was a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "French?" I asked her in mock disbelief. "... really? French?"

A giggle, and then the crack of another egg added to the frying pan. "Thought I'd try something new today. You know, mix things up a little."

"I'm sure you did..." I drawled, closing in on her. French today, it had been German yesterday, Indonesian the day before. The two of us shared a quick peck to finish our greetings, and then I started helping her with breakfast.

Firstly, to the fridge! Fingers finding the handle, I wrenched it open, stepping back to allow the door to fully open, and in doing that caused her back to bump against mine, and we both chuckled. Knowing that a more delicate task was at hand the two of us danced back to back as we tried to cook and gather at the same time.

"Juice?"

After a slight pause behind me, the answer came. "Hmm.. how about mango? We still have any?"

"Sounds good." Picking up the appropriate box, I shook it and nodded, satisfied with the swirl of the juice inside, guessing it at about a third full, or two thirds empty. It was all about perspective, right? Whatever. There was still enough for this morning's meal, and that was all that mattered. Of course, that meant that a part of today would become 'get more mago juice' day. Smiling to myself, I figured that it wouldn't be too bad.

Enjoying the quiet of the bustle for breakfast, no words were bandied about between us as we focused on the tasks at hand. I picked out the cutlery, the plates and the various other vessels for our meal. Juice was poured, eggs were cooked. Toast popped and forks clattered on the smooth wood of the table as we gently bumped against each other when we passed by.

More feet. Coming down the stairs, it was a much smaller figure that now joined the two of us in the kitchen.

"Mickeeey~"

I laughed as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then charged me.

Her 'pajamas' were in fact one of my older shirts, oversized to the point where they completely covered her thighs and hands. She staggered over, zombie like until she hand her arms wrapped around my waist, where she then latched onto me as I tried to shake her off like a hula hoop. Zara chuckled, patting the shorter black-haired girl on the head, before joining her younger sister in giving me a hug.

Lacing fingers through my girlfriend's hand, and then poking Emma in the forehead to elicit a giggle from her, I smiled.

"Morning, girls."

- Scene Break -

"And breakfast... is served."

With appropriately over-dramatic flair, I served toast, sausages and egg for the two girls, despite the fact that Zara had cooked most of the foodstuffs that we were about to eat. Emma cheerfully began to dig in, while Zara and I took a moment to play 'keep the tomato ketchup away from the other while trying to get as much of it on your plate as possible'. It lasted for about half a minute, before Emma asked for it. The ketchup was immediately surrendered to her Highness the Princess who is holding a Fork and pointing it at Us (in a threatening manner, it seemed). Holding said piece of cutlery in an overly imperious manner, Emma made her demands; stop acting like we were kids, and pass the ketchup (please). Oh my god, she was adorable. Giving it up to her, Zara and I found our laughter slowly dying down to chuckling and a few very unladylike snorts as Emma rolled her eyes up to the heavens.

"Any friends coming today, Michael?" She asked.

"No, not really." I shrugged. Today was going to be a pretty slow day for us, and I figured I could probably spend it watching movies. The DVD cabinet was still stocked up, and I was itching to see those old Jackie Chan movies that Vincent had let me borrow. Some of those had been sitting in my little cabinet for years. "You going to invite some other kids around?"

"Maybe." Emma allowed, still thinking. "How about you, Zara?"

"I was thinking maybe going up into town." She mused, her quick and efficient movements spreading the butter over bread as she hummed softly to herself. "See if Miles has any mango juice in stock."

I nodded my assent.

"Sure, Mile's shop, then... today is Saturday, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Vincent's on roster for Saturday..."

I grinned.

- Scene Break -

"Hee~eey."

The pitch was off. Sort of. It was a little deep, even though I was stretching my vocal ability to replicate the sound of my sister's greeting. Reacting to the sudden sound, there was a suction of air as Vincent jumped half a foot up on the sudden muscle spasm alone.

"Oh sh-" The Asian boy sitting at the counter almost fell off his chair, the magazine he had been reading tumbling out of his hand as he stumbled on his ass. He whipped around, and spotted me. Desperately, he searched the room around him, his eyes flickering back and forth behind his glasses as he scanned his surroundings for any sign of my sister.

There was a sudden, relieved sigh from Vincent. Flopping over on top of the counter, he sucked in an equally thankful breath and let it out again.

"Thankgodthankgodthankgod."

Laughing, Emma, Zara and I were almost doubled up as our friend again delivered when it came to him and his fear of my sister.

The thanks to whatever deity Vincent prescribed to stopped. Slowly, ever so slowly, his head rose up from its face-down position, eyes peeking up over the rim of his glasses to glare at me. Vincent may have been scared of my sister, but I was scared of them both when they were in their respective 'scary' moods; Jane when she was really, really hyperactive, and Vincent when he decided to throw on his 'scary face'.

"Michael." He droned darkly. "You almost gave me a heart attack. Why did you almost give me a heart attack? Why, why, why?"

Chuckling, I brought my hand up in a pacifying gesture, waving him down.

"Sorry, Vincent, I'm sorry..." Still unable to completely stop laughing, I leaned on the counter for support as my friend maintained Asian Martial-Artist Death Glare #3. It had been perfected by the likes of Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee; tilted slightly forward, eyes half-hidden behind the brow, mouth sealed up in a tight compression until the lips were a little pink slash across the jawline. Vincent could certainly pull off a variant, which was #3-v. It involved the addition of glasses.

I laughed even more at that. Certainly, Death Glasses were more funny than scary. "Hey, look, I'm sorry, okay?"

Mock-grudgingly, Vincent muttered something about his pulse and more about his health, before arching an eyebrow at the two baskets that I was carrying. He beckoned me forward, grabbing the scanner, and then I pushed the piles of shopping across to him. Dutifully, my friend scanned the boxes of food, cans of spaghetti and a packet of flour.

"You gonna head to the bookstore?"

"Maybe, what for? Got a letter for the young lady there?" I grinned, as Zara (on cue) burst into laughter as Emma simply grinned.

Vincent reddened at his cheeks, before sighing and pulling out a tabbed bookmark from his pocket. It was a marker from the bookstore further up the mall, better known as the Red library, and I grinned as I snatched it up.

"40k? Again?"

"Yep." Confirmed Vincent. "I wanted you to ask Vasili if the new Abnett book was out."

"Sure you don't want me to pass on anything to your girlfriend?"

"I've got a head of cabbage for yours." He shot back, handing the plastic bag containing said cabbage to Zara, who simply chuckled – obviously amused - as my cheeks lit up like the Christmas tree we had last week.

"So I guess I'll head back to the car, and you head to Vasili's place?" Zara queried.

"Pretty much. Meet you for lunch later on?"

Zara smiled, and then grabbed her sister's hand as she lead the two of them off to do her own shopping.

"Sure."

- Scene Break -

The Red Library.

It was a little bookstore, tucked away in the (relatively) quieter back corners of the mall, where the more... well, specialized stores existed. They weren't the big mega-stores or the more common shops. To one side as a tailor, one with actual measuring tape and thread to make any custom articles from almost any material. To its right was a store there that sold 'nerd-built' computers for anyone, as well as a side-stall that stocked anime trinkets, cosplay supplies and 'omocha'.

Pushing the door open, I walked into the store. The door chimed. No, really. It chimed. Who the hell still had those little bells up there?

"Hey, Vasili?"

"Rad tebya videt, Michael." Greeted Vasili. "Kak pozhivaesh?"

"Uhm..." I paused, rummaging through Vasili's 'challenge'. What the hell was the response again? I replied, realizing my mistakes even as I squeezed the words out of my mouth. "Spasebo preekrasna?"

There was a warm chuckle from the older man's companion, a heavy set man who had the look of a Russian mafia thug, but the air of a scholar. Someone had once described him as a big shaved bear that hated people, but for the most part he was a pretty alright guy so long as you left his loved ones alone; that is, his girlfriend and his boooks.

"Spasibo prekrasno, Michael. Good try." The man grinned, and returned to his book, one titled with stylized Cyrillic text, but thankfully had a subtitle forming the words 'The Art of War'. Ah. Sun Tzu.

Returning the smile, I laughed with the two Russian bookkeepers, and shrugged, unsure of how to respond. "Thanks, guys."

"Da." Smiled the older of the two. "You've come for a book, I suppose?"

"Mhmm. Something for Vincent."

"Ah! That's good." Grinned the younger, slapping on his rich and thick-as-a-brick Russian accent over his words. "I wanted to make myself a sandwich. Since I'm needing food, I will take the book for Vincent. Which one is it?"

"Dan Abnett's one." I responded, passing the bookmark along with the name of the book scrawled on it. "I think its a Gaunt novel."

"Da, I know of it. Good writer, good writer." Praised Vasili, started searching the shelf for his books, shooing his younger friend off to get his sandwich done and ready. "Off you go, then. And say hi to Sasha for me."

"Which reminds me..." I peeked around the corner, and spotted the dark-haired girl sitting in the corner. "Heya, Batel."

Glasses perched on her nose and dressed in loose-fitting but comfortable closed, Batel sat by the store-front window in a folding chair, book in her lap as she turned the pages idly. Awoken from her reverie, the short-haired girl looked up at me and tilted her head to the side in vague resemblance of curiosity. Her mind was visibly racing as she stared at me. Finally, it clicked who I was.

"Michael?"

"Yup. Just passing it on to you; Vincent says hi."

The eternal blush found on the face of Batel the not-so-useful-bookstore-helper-but-really-good-at-remembering-where-the-books-are-and-what-they-have-in-them deepened.

Vasili chuckled as he came around, and passed me the book that Vincent had been hunting for. The trhee of us stayed and talked for a little while, going over any books that might have interested me. I found myself thumbing over the Ciaphas Cain books, wondering over the heroic figure with the paired bolt-guns in his hands, or with his standard unfurled and gun blazing.

A pair entered, the bell chiming again as Vasili looked up to greet his customers.

"Sohm! Meliya! Rad tebya videt!" Greeted the boisterous Russian. "Kak pozhivaesh?"

"Spasibo prekrasno, Vasili." Sohm answered as the two of them exchanged grins, his enviously smooth and cultured voice adopting a slight Russian accent as he returned the greeting. "And you?"

Vasili shrugged. "Impressed. You here for that Chinese book, I suppose?" Pulling another book from the shelf for reserved titles, he passed Sun Tzu's Art of War over to Sohm, who appraised it with a smile curling his lips.

Nodding eagerly, the two launched into their usual chatter, with a slight pause as Sohm noticed me. He stopped, and blinked a few times. It had been a while since we had last met. My attempts at learning Japanese (and therefore understanding Vincent's ramblings a little better) had been spearheaded by Sohm.

"Michael?"

"Heya, Sohm." I greeted, holding up my hand in a still wave as I picked myself up onto a couch. Sohm smiled as he spotted me, and waved back. I turned to the second of the new arrivals. "And hi there, Meliya."

The pale blond behind Sohm offered me a small smile back, and I couldn't help but be slightly amused by the two of them; the borderline omniglot and the borderline mute. She then wandered over to Batel, who offered the former a book. The two of them were completely silent in the exchange of literature, and soon enough the girls were seated quietly, intent on their books while vasili, Sohm and I began a discussion of the books that we had here and the online fiction that was starting to crop up. Vincent's new project – a Warhammer 'fanfiction' – was another subject, since it seemed to involve us. A lot.

"As long as I can be a librarian or something." Chuckled Vasili. "Although I'm not sure how that would fit..."

- Scene Break -

Lunchtime rolled around and then passed, as the three of us sat down at Marty and Morty's, a make-anything-serve-anything restaurant that sat at the edge of the parking lot. Martello Amadeus was an older (possibly Italian in ancestry) man, who ran the retro diner with the aid of Charlie Mortimer, a former taxidermist and hunter turned griller and fry cook for the. Running the waitress was Sammy, a matronly older woman with a mean streak a mile wide if you dissed the food, which seemed to be the only way that you could get the two truly angry, as well as their small army of college and university students (mostly studying for the catering and tourism industry) that worked for the three seasoned veterans of the war against hunger and got their glowing recommendations because of it.

Emma, Zara and I enjoyed a small basket of fries, a ceasar salad and a steak sandwich, respectively. The patty of mine was jokingly described by Emma as having the shape of a squashed and beheaded rat, while I poked fun at her little golden lines of potatoes. Zara simply sighed and fed a slice of chicken between her lips.

- Scene Break -

We were headed home, having just jumped out of the car, when we were attacked.

A snowball splashed off the side window of the car, showering Zara and Emma with snow. A second clipped my shoulder, and a third landed with a slap across Emma's face.

"Get them!" Zara squealed, giggling as she quickly formed a snowball and hurled it towards the source of the attack that was now powdered snow, seeping down Emma's back and causing her to hop around as if it were hot coals, not ice, that was now pressed against her spine.

I dashed towards the break in the hedge ahead, vengeance on my mind as I moved to catch up with Emma's assailants. I reviewed who the culprits might be as their footsteps made the distinctive crunch of boots on snow. They ducked into a darker part of the woods out the back of my home, and then dove back onto the track, trying to throw me off with their random movements and changes of direction. We both stopped in a clearing, the bright streak of blond hair disappearing into a bush in front of me as I pushed into the space.

Three... four beanies were ducked behind a simple wall of snow. Either side were decorated with pre-prepared pyramids of packed snowballs.

As I closed in on them, scooping up a double handful of snow, I grinned. Too easy.

There was a tug on my ankle.

Oh sh-

The noose pulled tight, and I was pulled into the air.

I bounced once as the branch bent, and I thanked the fact that one of the four culprits – that I figured were probably now standing below me - had a brain that he actually bothered to use. I had no doubts that the youngest of the three boys – a short, skinny Chinese boy who was missing one of his front teeth and had a heavy blue scarf wrapped around his neck - was the one that had chosen this particular branch for its strength and flexibility. Zheng was a smart boy when he wanted to be, except that he kept on using them for what he called 'cookie capers'. Complex plots for the hell of it, and the fact that he got a few gains (such as the aforementioned cookies) weren't completely unwelcome.

A snowball splashed off my face, the 'upvalanche' of snow making me sputter as cold crystals of ice were jammed up my nose.

Indignant, I cried out to the others. "Dammit, guys!"

Three grins and one sly smile were returned as I hung upside down from the trees.

"Sorry, Mickey." Apologized the second of the boys, known to many as 'Big Val'. Below me, a half-chewed stick of rolled up jerky set in the corner of his mouth like a certain Hannibal Smith's cigar, the boy cackled as he looked up at his handiwork. "But you gotta say, it was pretty funny, huh?"

"Valentine!" I warned, using his full name simply for spite. I wasn't above it. Big Val paled a little, before his cheeks again flushed with embarrassment as he realized that I was baiting him. The complete opposite of Zheng, Big Val was a widely built Mexican boy, bordering on fat due to his eating habits, had already hit puberty by virtue of being the oldest of the prankster quartet. Of the four, I liked him the most, because of his attention to detail. In fact, he probably was the one who physically set up the device, past Zheng's planning of it. The guy had delicate fingers that bordered on supernaturally fast, and I really really wondered why I was imagining him as a neckbeard in the far future...

"I can't feel my toes." I observed dryly. "Can't you let me down?"

The four of them turned to leave. I called out after them. "Hahaha, very funny, guys, now get me down and nobody gets hurt."

"Like our trap, huh?"

Yeah. Zheng was probably the one who dreamed this all up. Val would have done the delicate knots and possibly that pulley that I could see on the other side of the tree, but the one who was doing the heavy lifting was probably Fred. The red-haired, grinning-like-an-idiot quasi-leader of the fearsome four was laughing his ass off as I dangled above. Sporty, built like a future jock with his hyperactive-like-a-monkey-on-three-kinds-of-medical-stimulants, and a fast thinker on his feet to boot (especially when it came to football), Fred was basically Miles' adopted younger brother, practically worshiping the 'army man' when he had come back from his tour. Of the three boys, he would have been the one who had done the heavy lifting, climbing the tree to set it up there and covering the noose with leaves when he had returned to the ground. He was almost doubled over with laughter, apparently enjoying my plight more than most.

"Jes' lookit his face, Chas! He's gone all red already!"

"That's because all the blood is going to my head, Fred." I was starting to feel a little puffy on the cheeks now. My words were labored, struggling to come out right as I attempted to fight gravity with my heart.

I slapped my knee, and then my thigh. "Aaaand there goes my thighs."

"Oh no!" Mocked the last of the four, holding her hands up to her face in melodramatic horror. Chastity was the youngest of the four, at ten years old, going on nineteen with how she was dressed. I worried about her, constantly. Firstly because she had once almost pushed Zara down the stairs for some reason, the other because she was easily the most capable of violence between the four. Zheng was a plotter, who did it for the 'mental exercise'. Val just liked putting things together, while Fred just loved to exert himself. Chastity, however, was probably in it for her own entertainment. Her daddy had a real soft spot for his only daughter, so she had access to cash that would have made a nine-year-old me gawk in awe. Material procurement was up to her, and if the boys could get her interested (and 'this'll be fun!' was more than a good enough reason), then they were set for any of the more expensive things.

"Yeah. Oh no. I've lost feeling in my stomach, now, so can you let me down now?" Of course, I was lying, hamming it up for the four of them, because the sooner they had their fill of laughter, the sooner I got down.

I hope.

"Boys." I looked at each of them in turn, my glare causing each to flinch. "Girl." I eyed the upside down Chastity with the most vicious leer that I could work up. "Let me down. Now."

"Alright, alright." Sighed Fred.

I felt my cheeks pale slightly as he brought out another of the tools that they had packed with them, and hand it to Chastity with a grin. "Your turn."

"Now wait just a minute!" I squeaked. Okay, I squeaked. There, I admitted it, but then again...

"If you lose feeling as fast as you have been, then you'll be all numb in a minute's time." Observed Zheng. I silently praised him, even though my mouth was now working to dissuade them. Smart kid, but a little unfocused.

"N-n-now hold on there! Lets not do anything hasty that'll get someone hurt..."

As soon as Chastity touched the tool, I got worried. "Don't do it! I'm warning you!" Dammit, she was enjoying this. Her movements were deliberately slow, and her grip on the tool was almost delicate had it not weighed as much as it did.

"Why?" She asked, all sweetness and adorably cute malice in her voice and smile now draining for a more cold, eerily sadistic expression and tone.

"Because Ep = mgh." Zheng recited.

An object's potential kinetic energy equals the mass of the object multiplied by gravity multiplied by height. I was about eighty kilograms, gravity here was nine point one eight meters per second per second, and they had me hanging about a meter off the ground... wait a moment.

"Hey, they teach you that at Elementary school now?" I asked.

Zheng shook his head. "Nope."

Chastity took this moment to swing the axe. It started to fray the rope. Two more quick swings had her halfway through the rope.

"Hey! Heyheyheyhey!"

A fourth strike cut the rope to its last threads. My weight did the rest.

- Scene Break -

I really, really hated passing out. It had been only a few seconds, it seemed, with dancing lights streaking across my vision that reminded me of the last time Vincent showed me that 'Touhou' game, because powdered snow was still drifting down from above. There was something warm and heavy on my chest, and I opened my eyes to see Chastity leaning down over me, my arms trapped under her knees as she sat on my chest.

"He's alive." She remarked, and Fred snorted something about being obvious.

Zheng laughed. "Duh."

Big Val joined the others, but it was concern that laced his voice, not dull dismissal. "You okay, Mickey?"

"Sure, I'll be fine. We'll go with that since you guys just dropped me three feet down, onto the ground!"

Val shrunk back a little, as if he had been stung. "You gotta say, though, it was pretty funny, huh?" He weakly recited his catch-phrase excuse.

"Could have been a little bit better thought out, if you ask me."

Fred immediately pointed at Zheng. "He did it."

"You were the one who did the ropes!" Accused the offended plotter.

Now it was time for Big Val to join in. "All he did was lug 'em around! I did the knots, you know!"

"And I cut the rope!" Squealed the girl on my chest, who decided to bounce up and down in delight.

Hoo boy.

"ZAH-RAAAAAAA! HEEEEEEELP!"