Every Time, Everywhere #0008: All Things That Go Boom
You are now back to being Jenny Everywhere. Wow, that was quick. What was even up with that perspective change, anyway?
"It comes to $12.11," says the waitress, grinning. Everyone in the restaurant is still pleased with the way you handled Richard Devilish, Jr.
You put down a $20 bill. "Keep the change," you say. "I noticed Tricky Dicky there didn't leave a tip."
"Aw, thanks!" she says. "Have you run into him before?"
"Nah, he just mentioned a couple of stuff I saw in the news, including his dad," you say. "Anyway, I'll have to stop by here again!"
"All right, see you later!" says the waitress.
You head out and make your way up the boardwalk. It's the early afternoon on a Wednesday in the middle of December, so the crowds are relatively thin. There's a sort of amusement park up ahead, with various rides and stalls, all of which seem to be closed except the restaurants and arcades which have their own buildings. A Ferris wheel looms overhead.
So it's just a little bit easier to tell when you're being followed. And someone that short wouldn't stand out in a crowd, but in a relative lack of one? He sticks out like a sore thumb pointed down. You meander a bit along the boardwalk, making your way to a region with a deserted row of closed amusement stalls, just to make sure that 1. it's not just a coincidence that he's on the same path as you, and 2. there's no one else to get caught in any crossfire.
"Man, y'know, there's pretty much no one here," you announce. "I bet someone could get into a nice big scuffle without hitting any bystanders, eh, Rich?"
Something metal clinks on the ground by your feet. You flashstep diagonally upwards, air-dash over to the second-nearest rooftop, and then roll into a duck-and-cover position just before the stun grenade goes off.
Richard Devilish, Jr. comes into view at the junction behind where you were standing. "Nice ta meetcha," he says, strapping what appear to be some sort of rollerskates onto his feet. "Over at the Em Cee, they call me Crazy Demolitions. I'm the expert of all things that go boom, haha!"
"Hi," you say. "You doing this for love, or is it also for money?"
"Well, y'know, business comes first," he says, finishing with the skates. "Otherwise it'd be something more ... shrapnel-y than a flashbang. The price on yer head says 'alive,' which is weird, considerin'." He gives you a sidelong look. "Don't suppose you'd have any idea why someone three days ago would have it in for a gutsy girl who only showed up in this universe an hour ago?"
You shrug. "Not much," you say. "I'm almost curious enough to come quietly, and take my chances with whoever-it-is." Yeah, no, it's obviously Jenny Nowhere somehow, but this would probably take too long to explain, and you don't want to count on Richard Devilish, Jr. understanding it.
He shakes his head. "Nah, after that stunt you pulled at Fin Dining? Hal 'n' me are gonna wanna do this the fun way." He pulls out a flashbang in one hand and what appears to be some sort of grappling hook with the other. "Yer gonna come noisily! ... Wait, that came out wrong. Uhh, you know what I mean!"
You decide not to dignify the accidental double-entendre with a reaction. Instead, you give him an easy smile and a shrug. "Your funeral," you say. "Metaphorically, of course."