The Big Mission
“Ruby, cut that out. Hey! That tickles!”
“Hold still Rocky, darlin’! I’m workin’ here. Ohhhhh my! That a pimple?”
“What!? Awh, just hurry up before the Boss sees us like this.”
“Teeehee, awh, afraid of being caught with a girl doin’ it for you?”
“OW! Awright, fine! Do it slower then, just easy, eh!”
“How’s that? Slow enough for you, Rocky?”
“Yeeaaa-aaah … This works.”
KNOCK KNOCK
“Whot th’ ‘ell be ye doin’ in thar!?”
“Shit, it’s Hexx, hurry up, Ruby!”
“You got it, sweets.”
CLICK, TURN
“WHOT TH’!? WHOT’S oll ‘is white stoof!?”
“What! I’m just giving Rocky a shave.”
“Yeah, what she said!”
~
At the age of twenty-two, Roch Valentine’s life went from interesting to maddening. Spending most of his life on the street with his guitar, and only a few years within the ranks of the Black Flag, Roch found his fair share of wild encounters. His aspirations to be the best ‘Flagger’ is what got him in the organization in the first place, when the Boss, Gareb Vasante, tried to one-up him at Dirty One Eye. They had three ties in a row, and when Gareb finally rolled a one, Roch picked up his chair and smashed it over the Boss’s head.
“You’ve got good initiative, kid, but next time, DON’T CRASH IT ON MY HEAD!” Shouted Gareb to a later brutally beaten Roch after the Boss’ men tackled him after the game.
The mischief the boys caused ranged from clever and profitable to just plain absurd, such as the time Roch dressed one of the hins up like a mouse. Every time they found a crowd, the hin would run in, scaring everyone, and Roch would save the day with a net. Most of the time, people would just pat him on the back. Sometimes, they’d toss him coins for his success.
Couple hours later, someone found out it was a ruse, and then the angry mob came.
In his spare time, he was the neighborhood kid everyone liked. He was nice and caring, for a no-good bandit. Of course, that’s just what he preferred to be seen as, sine being a Flagger meant a lot of bad things in some parts of town. He had a knack for Louise, his guitar. Whenever there was a general mood in a crowd, Roch would always pick the right tune. He was that kind of guy.
~
“All right, Rocky.” Gareb called him in. “I’m giving you a special mission. You listening!?”
“Uh huh.” Roch shrugged while picking his nose.
“The Flaggers need some new territory, so you’re taking your stuff and going north.” Gareb threw him a nap-sack.
“Do I get help with this one, Boss?”
“NO!” He shouted while adjusting his eye-patch. “Maybe I’ll send someone after you if you take too long. Just DON’T TAKE SO LONG!”
“You got it, Boss.” And with that, Roch took his leave.
Of course, the mission wasn’t going to be the sort of thing to take him a week or so. After the second day of walking down that long road leading into the woods, Roch found himself face-to-face with a giant bear. “Awh dammit!”
Running for his dear life, the bear dove and bit the bottom of his left boot, tearing it off. Roch was screaming like a little boy, thinking of nothing but his steps. “Don’t slip, don’t slip!” He reminded himself loudly while the growling started to faint. Little did he realize, however, that while he was running, the air was growing thick and mist-like. And then …
POOF …
~
“Welcome to Barovia, Monsieur.” Said a funny-looking fop.
“Gah, for the love of ‘em Gods!”