Heroes, Inc. : A Fantasy Parody by Kyle Crocco

Author:Kyle Crocco [Crocco, Kyle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2023-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

“Now we’re talking.” Cilla reached for the door.

29

The Dead Drunkard

Bay Side Terrace

Moments Later

Cilla entered the Dead Drunkard first.

“You know, what I don’t understand,” said Cilla, stepping inside, “is why these bad people with good information have to be located in dives. I bet if they got a better collective bargaining agreement, they could get a nicer place with plush carpeting and vomit‑-free walls. Just sayin’. This place is totally gross.”

Inside, the tavern was dimly lit. The low ceiling was covered with dark soot. No one seemed to notice how sticky the floor was. Instead, the patrons ate and drank, paying no mind to the smell, dirty tables, or zombies drooling on the floor.

Servants raced back and forth between tables, delivering pitchers of warm ale and trays of cold food. It was All You Can Gorge Night, and a large crowd from the lowest depths of the West End had arrived, all dressed in their best and smelling their worst—as if they hadn’t bathed in quite some time.

A large blond woman stepped in front of them as they entered. “What are you two doing standing there?” She was dressed in a fine silken shirt tucked nicely into her bright blue tights. Unlike the rest of the patrons, she was clean.

Cilla nodded to the blond woman. “From your clean clothes, you must be the owner. Good. We need your cooperation. Did you happen to notice—”

“It’s ‘All You Can Gorge Night,’” interrupted the owner. “Cover charge is one copper, and there’s a two‑-pitcher minimum. So either you pay up now or get out.”

Cilla waved her knife. “Maybe you didn’t notice the blade, friend. We happen to be two heroes on a mission.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so first? Make that five coppers each and a deposit of ten more to cover the damages you’re bound to cause on your so-called mission.”

“Good going,” remarked Grover.

“Just a moment, my good citizen.” Cilla produced two knives and showed them to the owner. “Maybe you’ll reconsider now.”

The blond woman didn’t even blink. A hush fell over the room. Patrons turned to stare. The lute player stopped mid-strum. Then the player fell off stage, a knife in his back, stabbed by some angry patron who detested slow love songs. The conversation resumed.

The blond woman pulled out a cudgel. “You pay, or I slay.”

Grover pulled out his final remaining silver scepter, the one he had secreted away in his boot for a rainy day. He had hoped to spend it on a fine meal. Instead, he pressed the coin into the woman’s callused hand. “Will this do?”

The owner tucked the coin in her cleavage. “Nice doing business with you, handsome. You should try a full-sized woman when you get tired of this scrawny one. Name’s Helen. They don’t call these ‘the breasts that launched a thousand ships’ just because they’re big.” She winked and sauntered away.

A new lute player came on stage and started to play something less romantic and more bluesy.

Cilla sheathed her knives. “I had everything under control, Grover.

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