"Sometimes Mircea Tepes was rather glad that nobody knew where he lived. Not that he feared for his life or anything. People wonder how Mircea managed to figure out where they lived. They wish he didn't. A collection of oneshots in which Mircea launches Operation Irritation and everybody is, indeed, irritated."

Disclaimer: I do not have ownership of Gargoyle Legends, which is really owned by Heather Fleming. This disclaimer applies to this and all future chapters of Operation Irritation. This operation will consist of information from The Gargoyle Club to Brimstone Angels. Spoilers are existent. Do not expect frequent updates.

I 'mustache' you to go die

In which an irrational (rational) fear of permanent markers begins for Abdiel St. Jude.

Abdiel scowled as he dumped the last corpse into the pit he and Kiyo had dug up. Without any glorification, he picked up the shovel leaning against the nearby tree and proceeded to dump dirt on the pile of dead bodies. That was it. Nothing fancy, no special words, just dumping on the dirt. It wasn't like this was a new occurrence for the gargoyle knight. Sometimes he burned the bodies, but when there was nowhere to burn them in, he simply settled for burying them in a nearby wood.

When the last bit of dirt was put back in place, Abdiel finally allowed himself to look at Kiyo.

"Good hunt."

Kiyo simply nodded, not even batting an eye as suddenly, Abdiel St. Jude disappeared. She knew that after a hunt he usually liked to ley-line travel back to his home, take a shower, and drug himself into oblivion so he could finally get some elusive sleep. There were often no parting words, as Abdiel spoke very basic Japanese and she absolutely no English. Making the ley-line to her temple in Japan, she closed her eyes as the bright light consumed her.

Mircea smirked as he quietly slinked into the silent house in the middle of nowhere, Arizona. He had to be especially careful if he wanted to surprise the prince when he came to get him for some…training. Nothing like learning how to devour demon souls to tone a person's body. Very carefully, he went towards the room that he knew Abdiel slept in. It had taken the demon months to figure out where exactly the famous (or infamous, depending on who you are) nephilim lived. Planning on taking a nap on said nephilim's bed just to annoy him, Mircea was just about to jump onto the bed when he noticed the fact that it was already occupied by a body clutching a bag of tablets.

The smirk grew into a somewhat terrifying grin.

Tip-toeing (just for the fun of it, not because he actually needed to) out of the room and into what he had discovered a while ago was Abdiel's study/war room, Mircea opened the desk drawer and retrieved his weapon of choice. He quickly tested out on his own hand before creeping back into the bedroom.

He listened carefully to Abdiel's steady heartbeat before deciding that his victim was indeed, knocked out. Clicking on the light, he went nearer to the prone body, and readied his weapon. Ten minutes later, he left the room, smug satisfaction clear on his face. Just as he was about to step out of the house, he stopped, and smirked once more.

"What's the point of doing something like this if no one knows it was me?" he chuckled to himself quickly taking out a piece of paper and jotting down a "Hey, there, BFF!" and drawing a large smiley face that he humbly thought had a brilliant resemblance to himself, he placed the note one the desk of the war room where he was sure Abdiel would see it. Then, he simply forged the ley-line back to his own hang-out and left, moments before Abdiel woke up.

Abdiel groaned as he got up. He was sore all over, still exhausted, felt as if he hadn't slept at all, and his faced itched.

Abso-freaking-lutely wonderful.

Upon finally leaving his bed, the gargoyle knight went to get a quick snack, translating to a pound of ice-cream. And that wasn't even including the toppings. After drowning his frozen sugar in chocolate syrup and sprinkles, he brought his bowl to the war room.

Might as well get some work done, he thought, opening a window for any news on recent murders or disappearances. Just as he was about to set his bowl down, he noticed a paper crane staring at him from in front of his stack of 'to read' books.

When did that get there? As carefully as he could, Abdiel attempted to unfold the crane, finally succeeding with a rather crumpled piece of paper clutched in his hand.

"HEY THERE, BFF!" was written in a messy scrawl over the sheet with what appeared to be a smiley face sticking its tongue out. And now that Abdiel looked closer, the face looked a lot like what Mircea might look like with a mustache and eye-patch…

"**!" He exclaimed, remembering the itching sensation he had felt between his nose and lip, all over his left eye, and on his right cheek when he had first woken up. He rushed to the only mirror in his house – in the bathroom - and stared in horror at his face.

Drawn in dark blue over his face was a broom-shaped mustache that looked more like a caterpillar than anything, what he guessed was supposed to be an eye-patch (in reality, it looked like he had a black eye with a piece of string attached), and a large scar with fake stitches crossing over it. What was worse was the fact that Abdiel actually recognized that shade of blue.

He didn't… his face turned pale under all the ink as Abdiel was gripped with even more terror than when the cave-in incident happened. Running back into the war-room he practically tore open the drawer to reveal an un-capped (even though he specifically remembered capping it) dark blue permanent marker rolling around.

Not even caring about hygiene anymore, he spat into his hand and tried to wipe off the ink.

Key word: tried.

He pulled away his hand and noticed how there wasn't even a tiny smear of colour on his hand.

It was a month later. Mircea Tepes was still rather glad that nobody knew where exactly he lived. Not that he was afraid for his life or anything.