Chapter 10

The hour was late, and the lights were dim.

Around the table were seated five men, four in brown vests, red ties, and arm cuffs, and one garbed in whatever it is that absurdly old men with mechanical contraptions on their heads, who are heartily sick and tired of this whole paltry "fashion" thing, like to wear.

The five men wore expressions of deepest concentration, their minds utterly enthralled by the matters of grave importance before them.

"King me," Mr. Gentleman requested smugly.

Alex and David exchanged uneasy looks, each frantically cudgelling his brains for any recollection at all of a "king me" move in the fine game of poker.

"Er, we aren't actually playing checkers right now, sir," Alex finally said a little hesitantly.

Mr. Gentleman fixed him with a stern look.

"Listen, m'boy, I invented this game; I think I have some idea of how it's played."

Phil, who had been with the Library for a mere two weeks, leaned over and muttered to the man next to him,

"He invented checkers?"

"That's what he says," Frankie replied, very carefully under his breath. "But he also says he invented backgammon, Go Fish, air hockey, and the treble clef."

"Maybe we should stop trying to make him live any longer," Phil noted sadly. "I think he's starting to get senile."

Frankie looked alarmed.

"Don't let him hear you say that!"

Mr. Gentleman's hearing Phil's remarkably tactless comment, the sort that only someone with no experience around this place could possibly make, did not turn out to be an issue, however, as at that moment, he was rather engrossed in studying his cards carefully.

"I need two," David told Phil, who, as the newbie, had been automatically saddled with the role of dealer.

"One for me," Alex said, tossing one card into the center pile.

Frankie glanced down at his cards, and then up with a huge grin.

"I'm good," he said.

"Fold," Phil said automatically, tossing his hand down on the table.

"Fold," David agreed, doing likewise.

"Fold," Alex said, seeing no particular reason to break with an establishing tradition.

"Checkmate," Mr. Gentleman said.

"I suppose he invented chess, too?" Phil muttered.

This comment did not go unheard by Mr. Gentleman, who looked up immediately.

"No, young man, chess was invented through a very different means. I know a rather useful little song about it, if you would care to know the particulars."

"I'll look it up on the internet when I get home," Phil assured him hastily.

Frankie leaned over to Alex.

"Are you starting to wish we'd brought someone else in for a fifth for Guy's Poker Night? Like, maybe Susan or Marianne or someone? Or even Wendy, if Joker ever gives her an evening off?"

"Or that turtle," Alex added, gesturing to Mr. Gentleman's pet.

"Or even worse, that new coffee guy," Frankie said with a shudder. "Don't know if you've talked to him, but he's a dim one. Brews a damn good cup of coffee, though."

"Jumanji!" Mr. Gentleman called triumphantly.

"Ugh," the other four men said in unison.

Really, there was little more to say…

Meanwhile, in a hotel room located at that grand and inclusive area known as Somewhere Else, Yomiko was standing firmly in front of the door, arms stretched out to either side, fixing Nancy with a look that contained all the sternness she could muster.

Which, for the records, was not a terribly great amount.

"Okay, Nancy, this time I have the door blocked, and there are no cars in here, so you have to answer: how did you get out of that rocket?"

"Like I couldn't just go through the window, or through the floor. Or through you," Nancy murmured, her expression hovering somewhere between exasperated and affectionate.

"I wonder if that would make us legally married anywhere," Yomiko said reflectively, and then fell silent, pondering this.

When, after five minutes, she was still staring into space, cheeks slightly red, Nancy sighed and put a hand to her head, wondering where she had left her Advil and hoping her own blush wasn't noticeable.

"Weren't we talking about something?"

"Oh, right! So? Can't you just tell me how you got out and back here?"

"Sure, why not?" Nancy shrugged. "If you really have to know. The running gag is starting to get old, anyway, and I'm pretty sure I'll get into trouble if I steal another car. Now, I'm sure you remember enough of junior high science classes to know that what goes up must come down, right?"

"But…once you get into space, far enough from Earth's gravitational field, wouldn't you just start orbiting?" Yomiko asked, wondering if her junior high science teacher had gone over that while she was reading. Likely, considering that this described most of Yomiko's academic career.

"Not if the idiots in charge of setting up the launch were too stupid to give the rocket enough fuel to actually get away from that gravitational field."

Yomiko frowned slightly as she tried to work this out, and Nancy reflected with an inward smile that she could almost see the gears whirring merrily away, trying to connect fact with fact.

"Oh…" the smaller girl finally said, moving a few piles of books from a chair to the floor and sitting down.

"Yeah," Nancy agreed with a humourless smirk, dropping into the chair opposite, and then frowning, pulling a full set of encyclopaedias, procured on the way to the hotel, out of the cushions, and tossing them over her shoulder with a sigh.

Yomiko laughed sheepishly.

"I wondered where I'd left those…"

Biting back a less sheepish laugh, Nancy continued.

"Just in case you're wondering how much it hurts to plummet from the sky in a flaming rocket, the answer is 'a lot'. I fell so far through the earth, I ended up on the other side. Unfortunately, the other side of the earth was ocean. Thank God for Bubba the Friendly Whale."

"Wow…a whale took you back to land?"

"Actually, I just sort of…hitched a ride on my own," Nancy admitted. "Passed right through him. He didn't notice a thing. Although, I have a sneaking sympathy for Jonah now."

"And…Bubba took you back to Japan?"

"Well, no. Bubba was killed by a Japanese whaling fleet. I snuck on board."

"Oh, no! Poor Bubba the Friendly Whale! How awful!"

"He lived a full life," Nancy shrugged. "Swimming around, blowing water through the top of his head, terrorizing insane sea captains…"

"Wow, Nancy. That's some story," Yomiko said a little helplessly. "Although, I'd be more interested if someone wrote it down. They could call it Bubba the Friendly Whale! Although, I think I've heard a story like it before. But the whale had a different name. Moby-something, I think."

"Uh, sure. Anyway, let's just say that if I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, you'll know what it's about."

"I'm really sorry you had to go through that," Yomiko said, eyes growing slightly wobbly with tears.

"Well, it was my own fault for phasing through the planet," Nancy said with a shrug. "I'm fine now, so don't worry about it. I just don't particularly like being asked repeatedly, 'what's it like, riding inside a whale?'"

"I guess I wouldn't, either," Yomiko admitted. "It kind of seems like asking about that would cheapen the real worst part of what happened to you."

"But, hey, I got out alive, right?"

"I'm glad," Yomiko said, eyes growing wide and shiny.

Nancy had just enough time to smile and chuckle softly before being engulfed in a fierce hug.

"Hey, check it out!" Joe #6 whispered excitedly to Joe #13, peering in through the window at the two young women with their arms about one another. "It's them!"

"Are there clothes flying?" Joe #13 asked suspiciously.

"No, I don't think so," Joe #6 replied, peering more closely through the gap in the curtains. "Although, the girl with glasses has her tie a bit askew."

"No flying clothes, though?"

"Nope. Just hugging."

"Then I don't care," Joe #13 said airily, turning and walking away.

This turned out to be exceedingly ill planning on his part, as the two Joes were currently perched precariously on a ledge just outside the hotel room's window, eight storeys up.

"Joe!" Joe#6 cried, horrified, as he watched a mirror image of himself plummet toward the ground.

"I'm okay," a weak warble drifted up towards him several breathless seconds later. "The ground broke my fall."

With a sigh, Joe #6 whipped out a communication device, vaguely resembling a coffee cup.

"Joe here."

He paused.

"Whaddaya mean, which one?! We are all distinctive and vital individuals!"

Another pause.

"Joe #6. Yeah. #6. I think #13 is out of commission for a while."

Another pause.

"We're outside Agent Paper and Nancy Makuhari's hotel room. Should I attack?"

Another pause.

"Because #13 is on the ground, twitching a little."

Another pause, this time decidedly nervous.

"Uh…it wasn't? Geez…'cause #13 said these were your orders: to find and kill Agent Paper and Nancy Makuhari."

Several seconds later…

"Oh. We were supposed to get Joe away from Agent Paper and Nancy Makuhari, and then kill him! I get it now!"

This time, a pause just on the right side of panicked.

"Uh…you want me to come back to headquarters right now and see your weapons collection, sir?"

The sun was shining brightly. The birds were chirping in the trees. All in all, Joker reflected contentedly, it was shaping up to be quite a lovely day.

Something was wrong, though; he couldn't quite put his finger on it, as it were, but he had the feeling that something was going to happen any second – something excruciatingly annoying that would quite ruin the peacefulness of the day.

"Hey…Mr. Joker?"

Joker looked up with an irritated sigh at this interruption, noting that, really, he was quite a prophet.

"What is it, Joe?"

"I get the feeling that you don't like me much."

"You're surprisingly perceptive, Joe," the blond man said with a smile that would have been a smirk if it had been on anyone else.

"And I don't understand it!" Joe hurried on. "We were getting along great before! Just earlier today! I'd make coffee, you'd drink it, you'd drink some more, you'd drink some more, and then you'd run away frantically, muttering about finding a little boys' room quickly? Those were great times, weren't they?"

Joe sighed, wistful and shiny-eyed. Joker nearly-smirked again.

"Wonderful."

"What went wrong? I mean, what happened to us?"

Joker shot Joe a glare that was exceedingly vicious – for him; it was a mere narrowing of eyes.

"Don't pretend friendship, you bastard. I've had enough of your manipulation by coffee."

"Speaking of coffee," Joe began hopefully, "I think I'll have a cup. If I make a pot, will you have some too?"

"Grrgh," Joker said pleasantly.

"Er, what was that, Joker?" Wendy asked, stopping short in the act of entering his office.

"Grrgh," he repeated.

"Oh, right, I've got it now," she said.

"Glad to help."

"Hey, you want a cup of coffee, babe?" Joe asked from the coffee maker that he had set up on a table on the wall adjacent to the desk.

"Don't call me that! And no thank-you," she finished resentfully.

Joe looked horrified.

"Oh, no! I forgot; you only drink tea, right? Oh, Joe, you moron!"

"Agreed," Joker muttered under his breath.

"Look, don't get mad, snugglebunny. Just wait there, I'll go get some tea," Joe continued before bolting from the room.

"No, wait, Joe, that's okay! I don't…need any," Wendy finished with a sigh as the door slammed shut amid the ring of the telephone. "Oh, well. At least it's really good tea." Then, as something occurred to her, she blinked several times. "Snugglebunny?!"

"Hello?" Joker said into the receiver a second later. "Oh, hello, Miss Deep."

Silence.

"Ah. I see. A Joe peeking in your window. Number Six, is he? Kept him tied up all last night? In the bathtub? Poor fellow. Well, then, bring him along by. Perhaps he can tell us something."

Silence.

"Oh, you already are bringing him by. Just entering the building. I see."

Another moment of silence, as Joker's expression shifted to one of disgust.

"No, don't bother going back; leave the splattered remains of Number Thirteen where you found them. Thank-you. We'll see you two – you three – soon, then."

He set the telephone back onto its stand, and looked up, rather pained.

"Wendy, go warn Joe that one of his clones that are currently out for his blood is on his way here with Agent Paper and Miss Deep right now."

"What?!"

"I know," Joker sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "It's a terrible turn of events, isn't it?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Wendy huffed. "You actually want me to go talk to Joe?!"

"We all have our crosses to bear, Wendy," Joker said dryly.

As she left, grumbling all the way in a manner that would have made Drake's eyes glisten with sentimental pride at having acquired another convert, she narrowly avoided colliding with Nancy, Yomiko, and Joe #6 on the threshold.

"Oh, hello, Miss Makuhari! Hello, Yomiko!" she greeted brightly before hastily leaving.

"Wow; she's cute," Joe #6 noted thoughtfully.

Nancy sighed in despair, wondering how much worse things could get, as the three made their way into Joker's office.

"Ah! Hello, Miss Deep, Agent Paper, Joe."

"What should we do with him?" Nancy asked briskly and coolly, gripping Joe #6 tightly by the back of the shirt.

"He looks a little puny," Drake commented from the door as he strode into the office in a show of utterly uncanny timing. "Better throw him back."

Joker made an impatient noise.

"Drake, do you honestly want to send an I-Jin assassin back to the I-jin?"

"Better than listening to him," Drake shrugged.

Joe #6's expression grew horrified.

"No! You can't send me back to them! Ikkyu's going to kill me!"

"Why?" Joker asked, honestly astonished.

"For being stupid!" Joe #6 wailed.

"For being stupid!" Wendy, who had just slipped in quietly to inform Joker that their Joe was currently under the table in the coffee room and curled into a whimpering ball, echoed. "Goodness! If we killed our Joe every time he was stupid, we would have done so several times by now!"

"Now, that sounds like time well-spent," Drake muttered, eyes shining wistfully at the thought. "What do you say, Joker? It's never too late to start, right?"

Meanwhile, Joe #6 had whirled about to see who this new arrival was. His face shifted from terror to a sly grin as his eyes lit on the ever-unfortunate blonde.

"Hey, baby, how you doin'?"

"Have I mentioned that I hate everyone and everything?" Wendy asked pleasantly. "Hold on a second; did that count as Joe saying something stupid? You know, Mr. Joker, you never answered Drake's question..."

"You really have to slow the process of turning evil, Wendy," Joker chided gently as she smiled a smile evil enough to cause Joe to inch away, whimpering, which became much less impressive when one considered that most things were sufficient to accomplish this. "If you do too much now, you'll have no room left for development. And remember, most of the fun of being evil is the process of getting there."

Drake leaned over to Yomiko.

"Are you beginning to wonder what the hell he's talking about there?"

"Not really," Yomiko confessed, looking up from her book briefly.

"Have I mentioned that I hate everyone and everything?" Drake asked, much less pleasantly.

"Yes, Drake, you have mentioned that several times," Joker said tiredly.

"So, what's on the agenda for today? Are we going to go out and do anything, or are we going to sit here drinking coffee again?" Drake demanded.

"Well, the first order of business for today is to decide what we'll do with our new friend, Joe over here," Joker replied.

"Find out what he knows," Nancy suggested.

"Yeah; and what'll we do with the other twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and thirty seconds of the day?" Drake snorted.

"That's mean!" Joe #6 protested.

"Sure is," Drake agreed. "But it's true."

"They're like a group of children," Joker muttered to himself as Joe stuck his tongue out petulantly at Drake. "Perhaps teaching preschool was the way to go, after all…"

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End Notes: Waay! We've – tentatively – got back to the point of the story: Yomiko and Nancy! Oh, and the plot, sort of. Well, that should improve next time…although, this isn't the first time I've promised that… :o)