Side Chapter Blazers 3: Grandfather Chat

“Sigh… What the hell am I doing.”

Susan was sitting down in her private room in the first segment, drinking a bottle of alcohol. Everything had been busy of late, and she just needed a moment to relax. A moment of relaxation without Aluber or Jordan. 

Not that she had any problem with them, but it was just that she needed time to herself. The auction was going to start in a week, and the important prep work was already done. She still had many she had to manage, but knowing the true purpose of the auction caused a large, icky blob to form inside.

She was by no means innocent in the planning process; she was there step by step as Aluber crafted a stage of revenge. But Susan was still worried it would just become a stage of tragedy. 

So many insurance plans were put in place—backup plans for backup plans—just so everyone would dance to the tune Aluber wanted to play. 

However, what Susan feared was that even if one thing went wrong or if Dominous Hood did something drastic, innocent lives could be put at risk. Too many guests who just came to watch the auction or those who lived upon Jelannax could be put in harm's way. Just to satisfy their revenge? 

Susan knew there were other people who were hoping for the success of the plan. Dominous Hood had done a lot of damage to a lot of people, even though that information had been kept extremely confidential. In truth, in many incidents, people didn’t know whether they were caused by Dominous or not. The only times their influence was noticed was in incidents that painted them in a positive to grey light.

For Susan, it was almost comical how hard Dominous Hood tried to manage their public image. 

Susan took another large gulp from her bottle, but as she did, a bright flash occurred in the centre of the room.

“What?!” 

Susan leaned back and nearly fell off her chair, but she managed to catch the table and yank herself back up. Her eyes adjusting, she called out, “Grandfather!” 

He covered his ears for a moment. "Quiet, dear, my ears are still what they used to be.” 

Suddenly standing in the centre of the room was a single old man. 

His brown eyes quickly darted around the room. “What a mess, Susan, I thought your dad taught you better.”

This was Craftalot. A man whose hair had long gone white, but only a few wrinkles stuck to his face. He wore pink bathroom robes over a thick, multilayer black suit. 

“He did, so don’t show up only on an off day to complain about the state.” There was a lot Susan wanted to say, but she didn’t believe she would get any answer from her gramps, so she just complained instead.

A heavy silence hung in the area as the slightly drunk woman and the old man stared off in different directions.

Susan decided to ask the leading question, “So why are you here, Gramps?”

Susan called either Gramps or Grandfather, using his name–which he gave himself ages ago–Craftalot, always felt weird to her when she talked to him in person. Not that she ever spoke to him often.

As a child, she did see him semi-frequently, but as she got older, he showed up less and less. He was like this for all his grandchildren, though for the last thirty-seven years, he hadn’t shown up at all. 

There was a massive age gap between the two, with Craftalot nearing four hundred, while Susan was only forty. 

He turned fully around and stared at the walls of the room, but in his mind, he was being shown the full layout of the auction thanks to his tools.

He said, “So, it looks like you guys aren’t backing out of this.”

Susan shrugged. “Not that we have a choice.”

“But you do.”

“You know we don’t.”

“That’s not true, anything can be stopped.”

“Then why don’t you do something?”

“Because I’m desperate for this to work as well.”

Susan's eyes widened in shock for a moment, but she continued with a joke. “Well, if you were so eager to help, you could’ve made negotiating easier.”

He laughed and turned around. “Whaha, well, I’m not going to go easy on anyone, that includes my granddaughter.”

Susan leaned forward. “So, that’s it? Coming here to question if everything is going forward. Aren’t you worried you will be caught?” She was less serious about that last point.

He fiddled with his beard. “You know my fantastic, terrific technology will keep me safe, it isn’t something that measly modern-day toys can stop.” He stayed quiet and didn’t answer the first question, which Susan decided to take as a yes. 

“Well, have you visited Dad or Mum in a while?”

"No, dear, they are far better off without me.”

“It’s been seventy years since you’ve seen them.”

“And how magnificently mature they are. They would make your grandmother proud.”

“Well, they are still bugging me to tell you to visit my aunt's son. Gordon? Remember, he was born ten years ago now.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate that they would force such things onto you. You at least have my apologies.”

“So, are you going to visit?”

“When the time is right.”

Susan took another sip of her drink. She asked, “Do you want some?”

“No, too weak for me.” 

“Crazy alcoholic.”

"Naturally, nothing of the sort, but when I gather the interest to potentially partake in some delicious drink, I would rather it have an impressive impact.”

Susan rolled her eyes. 

After a few more sips, she had finished her drink, and with that, Susan decided to test her luck. This was the most her grandfather had talked in a long time about personal matters, so maybe he would spill a little more. “Gramps, why did you accept our deal in the end?”

He sighed and broke sight once again. “I figured you would know the reason by now.”

Susan looked down at the bottle in her hand. She wasn’t the only one hurting.

“I… have an idea… but I have never heard it from you. Even saying that, I still never believed you would help Aluber with a plan, especially this plan.”

Unsurprisingly, Craftalot had been a frequent target of Dominous Hood for a long time, but the only one who knew how many times he had been attacked was himself. However, he wasn’t the only one who was attacked, after all, people were only after his items.

“I’ve met a lot of interesting individuals over my long life. I’ve only given a few of my favourite people gifts over the years. And it breaks my heart every time I hear of the current user’s death by selfish hands.”

People who had his items didn’t tend to sell them, mostly because the people he picked were the type that wouldn’t. These items had even been passed down a few generations, depending on the family. 

He continued, “I thought adding trackers, sensors, and the like, on top of the security functions I already had, would give me some clues to the attackers' whereabouts. But every time, nothing. I’ve tried getting help numerous times to solve this issue, but every time to no avail.”

He snapped his fingers. “I think that is everything I will say on that topic.” Then, in a flash, he vanished again.

“You could’ve at least said goodbye, Gramps…” Susan could only sigh as Craftalot vanished. She looked down at the bottle and said, “I’m going to need another bottle.”