Yet more Modest Mouse ((I didn't post a video with lyrics because I'm pretty sure no one can agree what the hell he's saying. It's more just the feel of the song that I like.))

“Dirge’s withered balls,” Brambled murmured. Her squadmates, old and new, were looking at her. She hated being looked to for anything other than a good time.

“Hey, hey Bramble, I can help!” chirruped Mouse.

“Aye, ye can. Go pop into their vision – quick-like – and keep popping in and out farther and farther away. They’ll most likely follow you.” At least I hope they will.

“Really?!”

“Don’t make me repeat m’self”, Bramble growled.

Malarkey’s thick hand reached around apparent thin air near Bramble’s shoulder, eliciting a squeak from the imp.

“DO NOT GET CAUGHT.”

Small, deep scratches appeared on Malarkey’s hand as Mouse struggled to get free of his grip.

Bramble eyed the uniformed humans ahead of her. They were seconds away from fully taking in the scene. She pulled from her vest a table dagger pilfered from the cultists’ lair and passed it up to Mouse.

“If you’re caught, Mouse, go home. Do you understand me?”

The squad heard a gulp, and then a sigh from Mouse as Malarkey returned his bloodied hand to his side.

“Yeah Bramble, got it.”

“Good, now go!”

Mouse’s weight left Bramble’s shoulder, and seconds later, the guards and nobility began shouting.

“What was that?!”

“I don’t know.”

“LOOK! There it is again!”

One of the guards pulled his sword from its scabbard and pointed. “That way!”

The guards and nobility turned and hurried after what was presumably a disappearing, reappearing imp with a dagger.

The cultist gave a chill smile. “Good to see you’ve no sentimentality when it comes to your comrades-in-arms, sapper. Do you think he can lead them on a merry little chase forever?”

Bramble sidled closer to the cultist and leaned down to put her nose inches from his. Her lips curved in a cold grin of her own, and exhaled sulfurous breath through clenched, pointed teeth.

“Mouse has his instructions. If he’s caught, he’ll go home. Your people will bring him back. No harm done.” Bramble’s grin took on a malignly cheerful aspect. “’Sides, you haven’t seen part two.”

“Bramble, no…” Catbox groaned.

“Oh, yes.”

Bramble looked around the alleyway. The cobbles beneath her burlap-sacked hooves. The painfully bright sky above her horns. The feeling of deja-vu washed over her again, poorly articulated, an irritant. She rubbed her hands down her face, trying to push it away.

Without warning, she shoved two clawed fingers down her throat, bent over, and began coughing.

The cultist’s face became a mask of shock and disgust.

“What is wrong with her?” he exclaimed.

“The bitch has no gag reflex left.” Malarkey chuckled, grabbed Bramble by the back of the neck and repeatedly shoved his fist into her belly.

The cultist jumped back from the fiends as vomit splattered the cobbles. Bramble knelt down and began scooping it into her yet-to-be-relinquished mug.

“We can obtain more beer for you if you require it, Master Bramble.”

“Nah, I just needed what was in my gut.”

Bramble raked a finger through her teeth, drawing blood, and allowed it to drip into the mug. Finally, she scraped some dirt and gravel from the road and packed the mug solidly with it, shaking it up violently until it was a compacted mix of vomit, blood, and gravel, solid enough not to spill easily. She looked at Catbox.

“I need a cap.”

“You should have brought some.”

Bramble frowned. “That’s your job. You can’t do what I do, so you bring the caps.”

“Yeah, well, after we get into this shop, I won’t need you to do what you do. In fact, I won’t need you at all. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not, Bramble.”

“Really?” Bramble’s voice became soft, dripping poison honey. “You won’t need me Kitty-Catbox?”

“No,” said Catbox, drawing herself up to her full height. “You never did nothin’ for me anyway. It was always ‘Catbox, where’s the caps?’ ‘Catbox, where’s the firestarter?’. I’m not your Ix. I’m just as smart as you are. Smarter, anyway. Wasn’t me that had to make enemies outta the whole squad was it?” Catbox’s eyes glinted with sudden malice.

“You’re right Cat’. You’re not my Ix. But ‘til ye met me, you was everyone elses’.” Bramble’s voice took on a rasping, seductive quality. Like a whore with a sharp knife hidden between her thighs. “Keep pushing and you’ll find out ‘xactly what it’d be like to be my Ix. I been looking for a way to test my new designs.”

Catbox smirked. “You can’t fight, Bramble. Stop acting tough, it ain’t you. In fact, keep it up, and I’ll remind you just how tough you ain’t.”

Bramble moved in close to Catbox, dropped her voice even lower, and whispered in her ear. “I know ‘bout your hatchlings Cat’. You know, those three little Ix’s yer tryin’ t’ protect. Tryin’ t’ keep ‘em from actin’ as weak as you did I guess? All I need’s a word t’ Skullcruncher…hells, even Turbine might make nice with me if I told him ‘bout those. Then not only would YOU be my Ix. I’d be blowin’ up yer little ones too. Now hand me a cap, and aye, the damn firestarter too.”

Clawed hand shaking, Catbox reached inside her robe for the cap and starter. Fumbling, she dropped them to the ground. As she bent to pick them up, Malarkey noticed something hot and wet sizzle against the cobbles. The look she gave Bramble was a mixture of fear, jealousy, and something else.

A promise of revenge.

Bramble sighed, pushing away more deja-vu, equally annoying albeit more easily understood. Another friend made enemy in the rat-race of the hells. She rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to release some of the tension of the past few hours. It was, of course, pointless. Things were bad and getting worse. As usual.

The cultist frowned. “Whatever ARE you doing?”

“What I’m good at, human. Making a bomb.”

Bramble shoved the cap down into the mixture in her mug, lit the fuse and handed it silently to Malarkey, who was looking at her thoughtfully. Catbox wasn’t a fiend easily cowed. He was deeply curious as to what Bramble’d said to drag acid from the big demon’s eyes. He’d grown used to thinking of the skinny red sapper as nothing more than an oddity, a devil that also happened to be full of explosives. Apparently, he’d have to watch her more carefully.

Thinking all that, he threw the mug hard in the direction opposite the one Mouse had gone. Some distance away a viscous cloud of smoke appeared. Moments later, the sound of the detonation reached them.

Bramble grinned. “Great! Now they’ll be running in both directions. Can we go look at my new toys now?” She shouldered past Catbox without a glance and took the cultist’s arm.