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Chapter 23

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Chapter 23

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Lock was once again awoken by the loud ringing of his newly bought alarm clock, and upon stretching himself out to reach and turn off the infernal device lying on his night stand, unceremoniously fell out of his bed.

 

He lay there for a few moments, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and feeling like shit. He hadn't been this unrested in years, and especially not in the last few weeks once he'd started sharing his dreamscape with the black-haired girl.

 

Yeah, shitty sleep.

Having to wake up every ten minutes would do that to a man.

 

He picked up the listening horn that he'd left lying on the ground and aligned it with the floor of the small room he'd rented, putting his ear at the end.

 

Quiet, but understandable chanting resounded through the magical instrument into his ear.

 

He praised all manners of gods, Kruto especially, and pulled out his notes on the ritual being used down below from one of the compartments of his night stand. Lock's finger quickly flew through the first ten minutes of lines, they couldn't be further along than that after all, he'd checked ten minutes ago, his finger halting at minute seven.

 

Good, he was free for five hours and fifty-three minutes then. Looking at the clock, he also determined that it was about six in the morning, right on time for him to go to the meeting place he'd chosen to have his temporary subordinates be dispatched.

 

Lock righted himself up and pulled the still unfamiliar bed covers of his still unfamiliar bed into some semblance of order. He sighed in relief at the thought that he would finally get some reinforcements in the task of keeping tabs on the Castouts.

 

“Moving is always such a pain,” he lamented as he dunked a sponge into the rest of the drinking water he had stored in his room and scrubbed himself down before dressing. He was especially careful with his money pouch, which didn't actually have any money in it, but rather held his small friend, Friedrich the third. One of the mice he'd bred for alchemical experiments. It now served a different purpose.

 

The large mirror on the wall, which was there to help him keep tabs on the entrance to the beginner dungeon, it being angled so that he could see it whilst lying on his bed, was used to affirm his disguise. If you could call it such. Simple civilian garb, no weapons. He noticed that his hair still wasn't finished.

 

Spitting on his hands, he ran them through his short and messy brown hair, making sure he looked as plebeian, and therefore invisible, as possible.

 

For the finishing touch he chugged down some wine and held in his mouth, gargling, swirling it around. He did this for a few minutes, making sure that the smell really seeped in there, before spitting it out again into the bucket of water he'd just wrung out the washing sponge in.

 

Picking up the bucket he made to leave, then, as if remembering something, he put it down again to carefully unbutton a single button of his doublet.

 

Finally ready for the day ahead, Lock exited his room and made his way through the apartment of Mfs. Richards. The owner of the building.

 

The woman knew absolutely nothing about the fact that her basement was being used as a place to create a gate and why he was renting a room here, but that did not detract from the fact that she was a nice lady.

 

He waved at the plump woman through the open kitchen door as he passed it, walked down some stairs. Flinching away slightly from the 'very intimidating' seventeen year old guarding the lower levels. Presumably there to make sure nobody walked in on the Vídd casting the ritual in the basement.

 

He left the house under the watchful eye of the teen that he'd spontaneously decided to dub 'Dog-breath', being extra careful to exhibit the civilian gait that he'd spent several hours training up.

 

The meeting place he'd set up wasn't very far away, so he quickly found himself reaching his destination. The city park.

 

Walking under the cover of the trees he put some effort into being stealthy, and once he'd judged himself close enough to the bench that he'd be meeting his minions at, pulled out his money pouch. Friedrich the third popped out his head the moment he loosened the string, looking at Lock with his cute red eyes. The mouse squeaked something at him, but as Lock did not speak mouse, he simply continued with the previous plan of action.

 

Lock concentrated, took a few deep breaths, laid the mouse gently on the ground, and just as it started sniffing at its new surroundings, the entirety of his five feet ten frame dissipated into a small cloud of particles which then rushed into the mouse through its ears, nose and mouth.

 

After a moment of reorientation Lock shudderingly stretched out his new body from his cute little toes to the tip of his tail. The shakes persisted for a minute or two, and once they were gone Lock twitched his whiskers and clumsily made his way forward.

 

Just because he could possess animals didn't make him a natural in actually using their bodies. Which was why he'd focused on only one animal up to this point. Not that he hadn't experimented around or anything…

 

To keep it short Lock had a newfound respect for birds and their capability of flight…

 

Lock the mouse slowly and carefully approached the agreed upon park bench, noting that the two forms sitting on it looked identical from behind. The same height, same build, same pineapple shaped hair.

 

He never had understood ponytails that pointed upwards.

 

Once he got close enough to distinguish more, he had to wonder what the hell the Underground was thinking. Trustworthy ok, he hadn't tested the two yet, but no way were two twins, that by their body shape, could have both been models, dressed in ninja tabis, knee-length pants, tube tops under stomach free vests and fishnets be discreet.

 

Lock seriously considered calling the entire thing off, before he calmed himself by taking a few long, deep breaths and going to his happy place.

 

This... was fine. He'd always known that people in possession of rogue-classes were paradoxically unstealthy and stereotypical in their behaviour.

 

Shink for example insisted on always being garbed in completely black and walked everywhere glancing around as if he were expecting an ambush. He also hated meeting anytime that wasn't at night.

 

None of the other rogues he’d met had been any better.

 

Or maybe he didn't know he'd met them because they actually knew how to blend in?

 

Whatever, the point was. Clothes could be changed, and seeing that the two girls were to be his subordinates they would listen to orders, hopefully.

 

Where the hell did the Underground find twins anyway? Was he at the wrong bench?

 

Lock glanced around to confirm that no, he was at the correct one. Searching around for a hiding spot under the bench, where no other critter could see him, didn't take too long. So he quickly managed to settle himself in his new position under a few leaves and directed his attention upwards.

 

“-ow long do we wait again?” One of the girls asked.

 

“From six to eight in the morning, until our new objective enters contact, which you very well know. Stop trying to fill the silence. It makes us look unprofessional.” The same girl answered, and then continued, “It's not like anyone is here to judge us.” she said with a pouty voice.

 

Wait, damn, they were twins, same voice, fuck.

 

If he had the mouth for it Lock would have sighed.

 

He lied down, paws twitching, and waited for another few minutes, until he felt himself reach the half-time of his possession. Looking around to make sure there was nobody nearby, and seeing nobody nearby, it was a park in the morning after all, he spoke.

 

The skill possess was odd in that there was one special thing the human using it could do, and that was using his own voice to speak, but with his own voice Lock meant something completely different than what most other people would probably assume. The voice created for speech was artificial, it was something that came more from the entirety of the being than from the body. Naturally for most people this wouldn't really be a problem, their existence and identity being intricately linked to their body, for Lock however... Well suffice to say his voice sounded nothing like a sixteen year old.

 

It sounded like an older man, somewhere in his mid-thirties, speaking smoothly in a manner that somehow resembled a snake. What Lock was getting at, was that he sounded like a snake-themed villain in a show that had a demographic entirely composed of teenagers.

 

Threatening yes, a certain depth was added to the entire speech, but it also just sounded stereotypically villainous.

 

“Nilbog surma hekere si dont.” Lock said, his voice reverberating upwards silkily causing the two girls sitting on the bench to freeze for a second, before relaxing again. They even started looking around to find the person who had uttered the word.

 

They still answered however.“espro eyl de wol purpatos.” The twins said, both parties, the mouse and the girls unconsciously relaxing now that it was truly confirmed who the other was.

 

They even stopped looking around for Lock.

 

Well it didn't really matter. It was time for him to reveal himself anyway. The possession was running out.

 

“Down here.” He said, causing the twins to look downwards, and upon seeing nothing, go on their knees to look underneath the bench. Lock exited his little hiding spot of leaves and waved his furry paw to greet them, causing the two to exchange incredulous and confused glances.

 

'Our client is a mouse?' They mouthed to each other, obviously not knowing what to do going by their frozen position on the ground, looking underneath the bench.

 

Again, how exactly were these two discreet?

 

“Follow me.” Lock said simply, before turning around and scurrying off back into the forest. To a place where nobody would see them through the trees. He felt the vibrations of footsteps following behind him shortly afterwards.

 

He couldn't exit Friedrich out here. There wasn't anyone around sure, but the dichotomy of seeing the plebeian that he was disguised as in his human form at the moment, spending time in the company of two combat-Class beauties would raise a lot of eyebrows and make people remember him.

 

It didn't take long for him to reach a spot that nobody could glimpse from the conventional park paths, and with a mental sigh he let his essence leave Friedrich's body. It had been starting to get slightly uncomfortable in there. Scooping up the confused and squeaking rodent and putting him back in the money pouch he walked over to one of the thicker pine trees and sat down, back leaning against the bark.

 

Lock directed his attention to the twins, who did not seem impressed with his looks.

 

He felt the urge to rub his temples.

 

Regarding their appearance, Lock needed to work with what he had, at least they were young and therefore more malleable. Who knew, maybe at the end of this entire venture he'll have created two rogues who were capable of blending into more than just darkness, but now, now it was time to take control.

 

Looking the two silent twins over, he put on a pondering face before speaking. “If you saw me while passing by on the street, what would you think?” He asked. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to try to teach a lesson.

 

The twins shared a look before they, with surprising synchronicity answered, “scruffy, unarmed, drunk, civilian.” with deadpan voices.

 

Lock nodded, having expected that answer, he then pointed at the two, gaze catching on their flat stomachs. Damn hormones. “And if you saw someone like you?” He asked, and just as one of them opened her mouth to answer, he interrupted her. “It was a rhetorical question, I'll answer it right now. The attributes that would spring to mind would be, twins, beautiful, well-dressed, armed, dangerous.” The tone that he said it in left no room for interpretation about what he held of that particular list. Namely not much.

 

“Now who would the average person be more likely to remember? Me, or you?” They didn't even open their mouth this time, good, they were realizing their place. “You of course, and being memorable, noticeable.” He shook his head. “While useful for a hero in shining armour, who wishes to inspire hope in those he defends, is more of a detriment to us rogues.” He said, tone growing progressively harsher. “Before you answer that every other rogue also dresses in a noticeable manner, do remember that you do not seek to be like every other rogue. You seek only to be the best, and if that means blending in not only in shadows, but also into masses of people then so be it. The current situation calls for the latter by the way, if you hadn't noticed. Social malleability was what I meant when I asked the Underground for someone discreet. They must have misinterpreted it as me asking for someone who is well versed in using stealth and sent you two instead.” He spat, sending the now properly chastised looking girls a scathing glare.

 

“But you're my subordinates now, and I have to at least attempt to make this right before sending you back where you came from. Therefore the first order I shall give you is to go shopping. Buy some peasant garb, smear your faces with a bit of dirt, change hair styles so you're not completely identical. One of you should wear heels so that she may appear taller.” Lock rattled off quickly, a small amount of hope worming its way into his heart as he saw the memorization processes in the girls' eyes keeping up with his words.

 

“Once you're done, find me at this address. Ask for Lock.” He finished, enjoying the looks of askance that the twins now carried and flicking a piece of paper at them, that the one on the right absentmindedly caught.

 

He raised an eyebrow at the twins who were still standing there, staring at him. “What are you waiting for, a dismissal? Just because I told you to dress like peasants doesn't mean you should act like them.”

 

They started shuffling off at his words, glancing back at him a few times.

 

“Oh,” He said, as if it was just an afterthought, they halted, “and try to remember the fact that while the unseen blade is the deadliest, there is more than just one way of remaining unseen.”

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