Jazz, Monster Collector in: Of Fai, Fire, and Fur (season 1, episode 6) Read online

behind his maddened boss, asked. “What can I do?”

  “Get it out, get it out!” Boss Geeter shouted. “It tickles! It burns! It stings!”

  Mickey looked all around. “Get what out, Boss?”

  Intentionally or not, that annoying flower fairy’s bind to me had finally proven beneficial, which scared the heck out of me. But she had the mobsters distracted. Smoke continued filling the room, but I was on my back, on the floor, well below the choking level. But I was tied to tightly to the chair to be able to reach my knife. There was an obvious out for me; I just didn’t relish the side-effects, especially with the Not Now Stone still in the old pickle jar in my office.

  What choice did I have?

  Fortunately the floor was smooth. Pushing with my feet, I was able to get the chair sliding along at a good pace. Boss Geeter was now sitting on the floor, bouncing his butt up and down, trying to jar Moxie loose, which would probably only force her to trench in deeper—yuck.

  Like a sled, I got the chair across the room then swiveled myself sideways to the now fully engulfed stack of cardboard. Grimacing, and sucking in through my teeth, I eased the section of bindings furthest from my skin closer and closer to the flames. The heat was intense, making it hard to breathe. I could smell the hair on my arm burning. I fought against the instincts that urged me to run, fought against the burning pain, and hoped the rope would burn though before I did.

  I was so focused on my task that I didn’t pay much mind to the sound of thunder and the retched smell that I could only describe as lightning that had struck a waste-treatment plant.

  “Yes!” I cheered and rolled out of the chair and away from the flames. I leapt to my feet, moving quickly to untangle myself from the still burning ropes. “Oh crud,” I cursed realizing that the left sleeve of my padded shirt was on fire too. I beat it quickly out with my other hand. Just as I turned to check on the other commotion I was ripped off of my feet. “Ahhh!”

  “Nice trick human.” Boss Geeter had me by the collar, my feet dangled off the floor. He had his ugly face in mine. His eyes burned with a bubbling fury and his fangs were exposed in a terrible grimace. “Well I got tricks of my own.”

  I gulped, and then glanced down. “What happened to your pants?

  “Rrrragh!” the naked from the waist down island troll began to roar and shake me like a Sampsonite suitcase. I could barely see straight. I gripped his wrists, trying to slow myself down.

  Mickey stood off to one side. He had his boss’s pants balled up in one huge hand. His other hand pressed his fedora to his pain-expressed face.

  Pusus, something stank awful.

  Trolls are really strong, even one of the pygmy variety with a magically augmented brain. The monster residents of the conjoined planets called Mirth had been trained, tamed, subdued—whatever you called it they’d been forced into playing by the rules. But all too often they’d fall right back into their wretched, evil natures and Boss Geeter had fallen hard. If I didn’t get loose he’d shake me right to death.

  My head was snapping around so hard that I’d totally lost my bearings, but my memory was still well intact. I let go of his right wrist and let my hand trail along his arm and into his jacket.

  “No!” he bellowed, realizing what I was up to, and tossed me across the room.

  I tumbled over and over, slowing, and made sure to stop with one foot and one knee on the floor. Hunched and roaring like his untamed cousins, Geeter was charging after me. I was still dizzy but he didn’t know that. I let a side-ways smile slide over my face. “Sorry Boss, too slow,” I said raising the business end of his glow-dart gun.

  All at once the madness drained from his eyes. He came to an abrupt stop and, growling, stood stock still staring at me with his cave of a mouth hanging open.

  I cocked the gun’s hammer, opening the mallow chamber and allowing some of the magically charged particles to enter the chamber. “Nighty-night, tough guy.”

  I loved moments like that; the monster staring helplessly at me, a little human woman, about to wipe their abominable life off of the face of the good Earth, and them absolutely powerless to do a thing about it except whimper. Personally I didn’t go in for those magically powered weapons—give me a good old fashioned stone and fire shotgun any day. But blasting this supposed crime lord with his own mallow powered weapon was still something I’d be sure to enjoy.

  Mallow was one of this first ‘discoveries’ made by the inter-dimensional invaders. It’s a kind of basic mineral that carries a natural magic charge. The Earth had mondo-mega-tons of the stuff, but almost no-one knew it was there or understood how to use it. The invaders understood how to use it but needed our supply; hence the Inter-Dimensional Merger that I remembered as a hostel takeover. But even still, at first only beings that were adept at magic, and then spent countless hours in study and training, could really manipulate the mallow sourced magical energies. But soon enough people began to develop technologies that made the magics easily controlled—too easy. Now magic creates, powers, and even does all the thinking around Mirth, and I don’t like magic one bit.

  I was still gonna use it to blast this troll’s head off his craggy shoulders.

  I was too busy savoring the moment. Just as I began to apply pressure to the trigger, the big oaf, Mickey, came up from behind and, capturing both of my arms, wrapped his long arms around and pulled me to his chest.

  “Ooof!” I grunted as all the air was squeezed out of me.

  Wearing a sneer, Boss Geeter strolled toward me. “Looks like you’re the one who’ll be taking a long nap there, Monster Collector.”

  I didn’t have the breath to speak, but I could still smile.

  Boss Geeter leaned in close to my face. “What are you smiling at, stupid?”

  I pulled the trigger.

  There was a bright flash, a zap of released power, a terrible howl, and the stink of burnt flesh.

  I landed on my feet as Mickey, howling in terrible pain, crashed back to the floor. Boss Geeter leaned back to pounce, his rough fingers were curled like claws, but I leveled the weapon’s sights at him and he froze in place.

  “On the floor skum-bag,” I said.

  With a growl rumbling in his chest he sat his butt naked hindquarters on the floor.

  Mickey was yowling behind me. Turns out it was a good thing he was called a big foot, because feet would no longer apply.

  Geeter’s snotty eyes kept flashing from his prostrate goon and back to the gun’s nozzle.

  I glanced at the weapon’s mallow level indicator. “Don’t worry Boss, there’s plenty here for you.”

  His upper lip was quivering like he had maggoty bread in his mouth. “Well you’d be a fool to do it.”

  “Ha,” I laughed. “You said I was stupid.”

  “You pull that trigger and you won’t suffer your stupidity long.”

  “Really, let’s find out,” I said and pulled the trigger.

  “Yeow!” Boss Geeter cried out, slapping a hand to the side of his head where his ear used to be. Fortunately I didn’t have to contend with his disgusting, smelly black blood, glow darts were self cauterizing.

  “You’re dead!” he bellowed. “You’re dead, you human filth!”

  I kneeled down beside him and shoved the gun’s nozzle a good two inches up his disgusting nose. “Actually I feel better than ever. How you feeling, Boss?”

  Bearing teeth he gave me a good growl.

  “You don’t look so good, not that you ever looked good before. Trolls even make hideous babies.”

  He was burning mad, glaring at me with a hand still pressed to the side of his head. I was stirring the pot, trying to get him to give me a reason to blast him then and there, not that I ever needed a reason to blast monsters.

  Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as I thought, because he caught on to my strategy. He took in a big breath, and then blew it out hard, letting his face relax. Man, he needed a mouthwash. He looked over at his big f’n foot, who was curled up
like a giant fetus beside the wall sobbing. “Did you have to go and disfigure Mickey like that?”

  I knew better than to look away, but I pulled the gun out of his face. “Nah, but it was fun.”

  “When the deferred species council hears about this you’ll be digging mallow for the rest of your short life, human.”

  I sneered, I liked to sneer. “No I won’t Boss, because you guys are crooks, you don’t play by the rules, which, according to the wizard’s council, can’t happen, so officially you don’t exist, which makes you open season for me.”

  He grunted something in island troll I didn’t understand. “Well when my people hear about this they’ll come down on you like lava from a volcano.”

  “No, they won’t, because I’m covered by the Steam Dragon Accord, I’m hands off to your nation.”

  “Ha ha ha ha,” he laughed despite his apparent pain. “You must think me a complete idiot if you expect me to buy that—Steam Dragon Accord,” he said though a snicker. “That was before the ID Merger, and the accord only covers the members of the assignation squad.”

  I leaned in and whispered in his good ear. “Who do you think set up the avalanche that buried chief Analla-Coi Ponosan?”

  His eyes got really narrow, his mouth dropped open and I think he stopped breathing. “How do you know about that?”

  “I told you, I was there.”

  His face froze like he’d turned to stone, but island trolls don’t do the whole turn to stone thing. He was stammering too. “You can’t have