It was one in the morning. Paragon City was another city that never slept, but tonight; after people burning themselves out over the new inventions, you could be forgiven for thinking that it dozed.
All through the city, and all through the base, not a creature was stirring, apart from a Stase...
Computer, wake up!, she said, aware that it had no voice recognition, but it made her feel better. The Times Square Marquee of zzzzzzz disappeared and a heavily stylised picture of Countess Crey introduced her to the wonders of the Crey PowerMac that controlled the base. Stasis supressed a smile at the huge mole that someone had hacked into the software.
Where's Weasel got to this time?, she said as she activated his communicator. A small flashing red light against the books on the desk next to her confirmed her initial suspicions. He'd gone on ignore. There were only two reasons for that; he was playing a practical joke or he was worrying. She knew that the wobbling mole on the Countess's top lip had been the former, but if he'd removed his communicator? Definitely the latter.
Atlas Park was empty apart from the insomniacs and some Spanish Heroes. Heaven only knows why.
Croatoa was equally dead; or living challenged at least.
His apartment in Dark Astoria held no more clues apart from a pile of salvage scattered over the Persian rug. She knew he'd been trying to invent something as the stench of incense hadn't quite blocked out the badly burnt remains of dinner. Poking at the congealed mass in the saucepan, it wobbled menacingly at her. Whilst she suppressed the urge to be ill, Pixie curled around her legs with her usual Feed me! mew following shortly after.
When I find your owner, he's gonna get this mess tidied., she said to the cat. The cat nodded emphatically and added that could she feed her first?
You're as bad as he is., Stasis said and prepared some cat food before letting herself out.
Zipping past the hordes of undead battering against his magickal barrier: one of them inadvertently wearing a clown's nose; she tried to think like Weasel. It wasn't an easy task, as even he'd admitted that he had a butterfly mind at times, but she knew that he liked his quiet from time to time. That meant as far from Humanity as possible. Eden.
Sure enough, the white whispy form sat cross-legged in the air, high atop a ruined building, lost in thought. Leaping in next to him, careful not to disturb the battle between the Devouring Earth and Crey, she stepped towards him.
Weasel, it's 2 in the morning.
No answer.
Weasel? What's up?
No answer.
SILVER WEASEL. WAKE THE HELL UP!, she yelled. That did the trick as his concentration broke and he collapsed to the floor, something skittering away from him. His slightly dopey waking face stared over his mask.
Oh, hi Stase. Wassup?
Stasis stepped past him as he uncrumpled and picked up the thing he'd dropped. A small quartz crystal, probably a piece of salvage.
I think this is yours., she said, passing the crystal back to him; silently awaiting an explanation for his strange behaviour.
Oh yeah, thanks., he said, somewhat distractedly. What brings you out here?
I was looking for you.
Oh Right. Well I'm here.
She sighed. Emotional Crowbar time again.What's up?
He had the decency to look embarrassed. That obvious?
Yes. Very.
Absent-mindedly fondling the crystal in his fingers, he said I was remember my first wife. Crystal Spirit. She was made purely of Crystal. An Elemental.
Stasis shuddered. Is that her?, she asked.
Weasel looked at her, looked at where she was looking, and then looked down at his hands.
Oh no no no, this is just a chunk of one of those Death Veggies. Just got me thinking.
Uhuh?
Well, we've been here for such a long time now and what's changed? Lord Tin Legs is still fighting Buckethead. Crey are still producing overpriced cack. Every day some new idiot breaks out of the Zig. Do we ever get a break from saving the world?. He trailed off. A new sentence had been started but then muffled.
We might get some sleep sometimes., she said, deciding against subtlety when he was this far gone.
Sorry. It's just seeing that reminded me of what we've come through, what's happened, what we've built...
You're thinking of going back to Russia?
Weasel blinked. Hell no! Just sometimes I miss the people we knew. The base seems a little empty these days.
That could be because of the balcony in the middle the wall. It makes the room seem larger.
Weasel's face froze in thought for a moment before he reached down and grabbed his cape, pulling it up to his mouth.
Buht how wud I pose wizout a balcony? Ah Ah Ah..., he said in an atrocious Dracula impression.
Be serious.
The cape dropped. Sorry. Just lamenting I guess.
Stasis's eyes narrowly avoided looking at her watch. Look Weasel, I'm not one of those overpaid pundits on television, but what I do know is life goes on. With or without morales. It just does.
A moments pause whilst the two of them looked at each other and then Weasel's mask wrinkled with a smile. You know you're right., he said and spun around. Throwing the crystal far into the air, he aimed and shattered it with an energy bolt.
Past gone. Wanna Arena?
It's late and we do have to track down the Malta groups latest operation tomorrow.
Just the one?
Stasis paused and then asked No Cheating though.
Weasel's nose wrinkled. No Superspeed then.
Done.
You have been.
The smile caught hold of both of them and followed them to the Arena.
" power.
