A Fool's Gold
Chapter
Sunday morning.
Everything suggests that today is set to be a fine one.
The eastern wind brings wisps of white pampas grass, mingling with the city crowds, infusing the streets with a spirit of quiet contentment.
That is until the first fuel drum explodes.
(The Headonion Show)
ONiON
- Earlier this morning, two suspects made a daring escape from a blazing gas station, their van driving away at breakneck speeds.
ONiON
- Eyewitness reports identify them as the same suspects who have brazenly attacked over half of the city’s gas stations previously.
- This is ONiON—first on the ground and live at the scene. Through rigorous investigation, our team is committed to uncovering the truth of this case, one clue at a time.
- In fact, our initial findings have revealed this explosion to be merely the prelude to a far more complex tale.
- The common thread weaving through this story is a name—
- something that has stood as the ultimate hope for all, the muse that has sparked the soul of inspiration for millennia.
- It is the true value of gold:
MacGuffin the Knife.
(Lobby, Suitcase)
Mercuria
- They usually stay around three to eight inches from your body.
The world outside may turn, but in the suitcase, life is steady—organically stable, perpetually still.
Mercuria
- Some are sweet like honey, while others taste like iron.
- Oh, and the wick is something else too, warming the tongue without getting too spicy.
In the common room, they form a circle, hand-in-hand with eyes closed. A flame comes alive in the center, and gray smoke lifts into the air.
“Communing with one’s own spirit,” that’s one interpretation of this ritual.
Mercuria navigates the spiritual items, aromatic herbs, and candles on the floor, pausing behind each individual.
She strikes the singing bowl, then rubs rosemary behind the ears of each participant.
Mercuria
- Trauma lingers like a taste … a ringing in the ears, sour, slightly bitter, yet … refreshing.
Argus’s eyebrows draw together, reflecting her discomfort.
Mercuria
- Parchment … the hum of static and leather. Fascinating—oh, good.
ONiON’s head shakes, then promptly settles back into a state of calmness.
Mercuria
- A gust from a painting, earthy and heavy. Painful, but passing.
Druvis inhales softly, her features smooth and serene.
Mercuria
- Meadows, sweat-soaked medals, the logic of brown, and … sunlit pages.
Dogs often have a higher body temperature than people, especially the more intelligent varieties.
Mercuria extends her hand, her fingers dancing above Pickles’s head as if tapping piano keys.
Mercuria
- Good, now everything’s in order.
Pickles
- Woof, woof …
<What an unusual girl.> - Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.
<Her sense of smell evidently differs from mine, otherwise she would have said I smell like the bowl of yogurt Charlton gave me.> - Woof … woof … woof, woof, woof …
<Another possibility is that—I have a scent even I can’t detect?> - Grrr …
<Apparently, each one of us must work on diligently building their own sense of self-awareness.> - Grrr …
<But where can true self-awareness be found? Perhaps this is my question to answer …>
Mercuria
- I like the aura of your thoughts; their shine has such a unique hue.
Pickles
- Woof?
<Oh?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is surprised.
Mercuria
- Surprised, yes, but curious—even more so.
- Your translator is not as precise as it should be.
Pickles
- Woof-woof, woof, woof, woof … woof.
<It is my understanding that due to our distinct physiological forms and the vastly different experiences between individuals and species, true perception and understanding are virtually unattainable.> - Woof, woof, woof … woof, woof, woof.
<Though it appears the principles behind your arcane skill may contradict my previous statement.> - Aroo, woof, woof, woof.
<I do believe I’m becoming somewhat curious.>
Mercuria
- Thanks for noticing.
- Perhaps someday, we’ll get to know each other better.
Druvis III
- It appears our healer has discovered a technique for communicating with animals.
Druvis offers a summary of their interaction.
Sonetto
- Ms. Mercuria, I have a letter for you.
- Oh! What are you all up to?
The meticulous girl, laden with letters and documents, stumbles into the impromptu gathering.
Before anyone has a chance to respond, the smoke detector above reaches its limit, overloaded like lungs inhaling too much smoke.
Mercuria
- Oh, what a delightful rain.
Druvis III
- We may need to upgrade the smoke alarm system in the common room to prevent it from being “excessively responsive” during these ceremonies.
Mercuria
- The spirits are grateful.
Sonetto
- Miss Mercuria, I have your mail—
She offers the letter outward.
Mercuria reaches for it, only to hesitate and retract her hand.
Mercuria
- Ominous berries, like the ones you find in a bog.
Sonetto
- Is everything alright? The canteen has been swamped with letters just like it. They’ve been putting a burden on our operations.
Still hesitant, Mercuria takes the letter, quietly smooths it out, and begins to read.
She reads with the utmost seriousness—slowly, very—slowly …
Until at last, she folds the letter and prepares to leave.
Sonetto
- Oh, just a moment, please—
Mercuria’s steps are natural and steady, and doesn’t slow a moment against her words.
Sonetto
- What’s the matter? Is there something going on? Please, Ms. Mercuria, you can tell me.
Mercuria
- My friend.
- Panic, like fresh currants and seedless apples.
Sonetto
- Are you talking about his energy?
Mercuria
- He needs me.
Sonetto
- So, you intend to find him and help regulate his energy? Is that what this is all about?
ONiON
- But …
After wringing out her wet coat, the journalist edges nearer.
ONiON
- That letterhead, it’s definitely not store-bought.
A white-gloved hand makes contact with the letter, turning it over.
ONiON
- Take a look.
- …
- Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville?
The eyes of all present move from the envelope to Mercuria’s face, but she betrays no hint of emotion beyond her calm determination.
Mercuria
- Yes, that’s his address.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Processing Area, Prison)
Monday is the “busy period” at this prison intake center, as more offenders are offloaded and delivered into the prison system’s clutches.
A tequila ad jingle blares from an old radio above, while an arm sporting a pork chop tattoo waves for Mercuria to stop.
Prison Officer
- Left hand.
- Right hand.
- Turn around.
- You’re not allowed to have any items hidden on your person.
- Go on, Miss. You’re good to head on in.
Dodging a pineapple can tossed from who knows where, she steps onto the noisy floor and enters the visitation room.
Her friend has been waiting a long time.
(Visiting Room)
Fingers
- See what I mean? If these pencil-pushers can stick a guy in a pink prison suit just for kicks, there’s nothing they wouldn’t do.
- You know that old country song? “Some things never change.”
Mercuria
- How are the Cheshire Cats holding up?
Fingers
- It’s grim—the boss is dead, and the rest of us? All locked away, with no light at the end of the tunnel. Well, except me, of course.
- Around here, death row’s a revolving door. One second, you’ve got a neighbor; the next, they’re gone.
Mercuria
- You’re looking better than I expected.
Fingers
- Ha! I ain’t like those mugs over there, brawling over a hand of cards. Me? I’m built different.
- I’ve got dreams, you know.
Dreams were life’s great equalizer—polished visions for the rich, and a rallying cry for the poor.
Behind bars, a dream keeps hope alive another day, even if it is pure folly.
She nods in response, but her eyes never stray far from Fingers’s mangled hand.
Mercuria
- Longing. Intense longing, swelling with every iron-tinged night.
- Your desire … might be what you’d call a dream, wouldn’t it?
- I see now. That’s why your energy’s in such turmoil. Your hands are raw with the anxiety this “dream” has brought you.
Fingers
- Right.
- Pfft—ha! Hahaha!
- Figures! You’ve always seen right through people, like we’re just fish trapped in a glass bowl to you.
Mercuria remains unfazed, the silence broken only by a soft sigh.
Mercuria
- Shame.
- You need my healing, but my arcane implements were confiscated. They even took the selenium and lapis lazuli.
Fingers
- Oh, oh—yeah, yeah, yeah, I need you, my little rambling genius.
The conversation circles back as Fingers regains his focus.
Fingers
- Like the good ol’ days—you really helped out our crew back then, and the boss.
- But this isn’t about cleansing energy or anything. I need you to do something important.
Once again, he grinds his nails, their pointed tips dragging over the metal surface of the table.
Fingers
- The boss is gone, and his most precious possession’s got no one to look after it now.
- What I need is for you to track it down.
Fingers pulls out an old photograph.
MacGuffin the Knife
A name.
A name is a code, a symbol, a query or a resolution, a term of endearment, a lingering sigh, or the very start and end of someone’s journey.
Fingers
- You’re looking at the sole copy of this photo—one of a kind.
An unhurried inspection ensues, burning every detail of the picture into her mind’s eye.
Mercuria
- Is that so?
Fingers
- That’s right. No matter what happens, get it and bring it to me.
- The day after tomorrow.
- Two days from now, I’m a free man. Seven sharp in the evening, make sure I get it.
She gives no reply. Her gaze is still locked on the photograph, as if seeing something beyond it.
Mercuria
- I always help my friends, provided it doesn’t breach my principles. A favor along the way, nothing more.
- But I do have a request.
Fingers
- I’m all ears.
Mercuria
- May I bring someone along?
(Cheese St.)
Mercuria
- Northeast … one step, two, three …
Pickles
- Sniff, sniff, woof, sniff, sniff … woof!
<I’ve picked up the trail. It’s a familiar aroma.> - Hrrr—woof, woof!
<Hold on, is that what I think it is? A strawberry-scented red balloon?>
Along the busy roadway, a thick-furred Border Collie yanks a silver-haired disco girl along, their eyes locked on a red balloon in the air.
She initially means to head in a different direction, but the sudden pull of the leash trips her up before she can adjust.
Mercuria
- Ah! Oh!
After a noisy struggle, the dog slams into a trash can, and Mercuria finds herself thoroughly tangled in the leash.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, snarl …
<Perhaps we ought to reflect on this situation …> - Grrr …
<Our investigative philosophies are as disparate as night and day.> - Woof, woof … woof, woof, woof … woof, woof.
<This may explain why we find ourselves at such cross purposes.>
Mercuria lowers her head, unwinding the leash looped around her legs.
Mercuria
- You’re worried, Pickles.
Pickles
- Hmm? Woof, woof?
<Did I hear correctly? Me, worried?>
Mercuria nods.
A conflicted look settles on the dog’s face.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, woof … Woof, woof, woof.
<Well, I can’t deny it entirely.> - Woof, woof, woof! Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof … woof!
<It’s just that this “treasure” itself isn’t quite what I imagined it to be.>
Pickles emits a low, tender whine.
Pickles
- Woof, woof … woof, woof, woof …
<You see …>
“Doggie”
- The puppy cannot believe his eyes.
Pickles reaches out, his paw resting lightly on the photo in Mercuria’s grasp.
Pickles
- Snarl … Grrr, grrr …
<MacGuffin the Knife …>
The dog points with his paw at the central figure in the photograph.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, woof.
<Seems to be a member of my own species.>
The focus of the photograph is a small dog with bright eyes.
It beams back at the photographer, as if on the verge of charging forward with unyielding courage, prepared to bring down the photographer or even the whole world.
Mercuria
- Yes, it’s in its belly—a genuine hoard of Rheingold.
- And whoever claims the Rheingold within shall find great fortune.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Fingers
- How’s it looking, pal? You watching that chick like I told you?
Voice on the Other End
- You mean Mercuria?
Fingers
- Give me a break—who else? I’m not keeping up your lifestyle for nothing.
Voice on the Other End
- Yeah, yeah, I’m on it. I’ve got eyes on her.
- Looks like she brought a buddy along, a loyal little arcanist companion.
Fingers
- Hah, I know.
- Stay on top of that little friend of hers. If she backs out of this job or finds it and doesn’t turn it in, you know the drill.
(Cheese St.)
Pickles
- Woof, woof … woof, woof.
<Not all dogs have a taste for milk, despite what you might think.> - Mmm … whuh—woof …
<Even we, on occasion, are troubled by lactose intolerance.> - Snarl, whuh-woof …
<I wouldn’t say no, of course. If there were to be some leftover milk, a little taste to quench my thirst would be welcome.>
Mercuria
- Patience, Pickles.
- There’s a new energy here.
Mercuria empties the newly bought milk into a battered little bowl and pushes it slowly toward a scrap heap by the roadside.
From the garbage, a small nose emerges, trembling as it presses against the bowl with two quick nudges.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, hrm, woof, woof, woof, woof, whuh-woof.
<The last three stray dogs we found have been brought back to where they belong—to the place their humans call “home.”> - Woof … woof, woof, woof … woof.
<Yet, as of now, we still haven’t found a trace of this MacGuffin the Knife.>
“Beep—beep-beep—beep—” The communicator around the dog’s neck buzzes to life.
ONiON
- Can you hear me, Pickles?
Pickles
- Grrr, grrr! Woof, woof, woof.
<I can hear you, ONiON. So, this thing you gave me before you left is finally doing its job?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is curious about this device.
ONiON
- Oh, you mean the communicator? Yes, it guarantees I can receive your latest updates whenever necessary.
Pickles
- Hrrr …
<Ah, so you’ve been eavesdropping the whole time, eh?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy does not approve.
Pickles
- Woof, woof …
<I didn’t mean it quite like that …>
ONiON
- A journalist needs to grab every tidbit of useful info whenever she can. It’s just part of the job.
- Let’s get back on track. Have you found MacGuffin the Knife yet?
Soft grumbles escape from Pickles’s throat as an indication of his frustration.
ONiON
- But hey, you’ve managed to find quite a few strays.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, mrm-woof, woof, woof.
<Yes, we found them and received rewards from their grateful owners.>
Pickles casts a quick look at Mercuria, noting how her pants’ pockets and backpack are both stuffed with loose bills and money.
“Doggie”
- The puppy is very satisfied with the money they have earned.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, woof, grrr … woof.
<Oh, oh—I wouldn’t say excited, not about the money per se. I just appreciate it as the fruit of our labors.>
ONiON
- I see now. Helping those owners find their missing pets has brought in quite a bit of cash for you.
- But you still haven’t gotten your hands on this MacGuffin the Knife, have you?
Pickles
- … Whuh …
“Doggie”
- The puppy is disheartened.
ONiON
- Well, it won’t be a walk in the park. No wonder this Fingers guy put all his trust in Miss Mercuria.
- My journalist’s intuition tells me this trip of yours sounds like it’s going to get rough.
- It’s either going to be a bust, or you’ll end up in deep, or maybe both. Basically …
The voice on the other end of the communicator hesitates for a moment.
ONiON
- From a journalist’s point of view, I want to keep following your actions, but from an objective third-party perspective, I’d suggest thinking carefully about whether to proceed with this.
On the other end of the line, the journalist waits for an answer.
ONiON
- Hey, can you hear me? Hello?
The silver-haired girl seems oblivious to the sound of the communicator, her eyes scanning the air as if searching for something.
She abruptly lifts her eyes, drawing focus on the road ahead.
Mercuria
- There!
As fine as a cicada’s wing, blending seamlessly with the air, and a tiny shudder, like a black ant.
Low heels reach a quickened pace over the concrete.
Mercuria climbs the railing at the side of the road.
With a quick jump, she lands right in the heart of the bustling, traffic-filled lane.
Mercuria
- Gone, already gone … and so fast!
Pickles
- Grrr, grrr! Woof, woof, woof!!!
<Miss Mercuria, where are you going?>
Pickles watches the scene unfold and swiftly follows.
But with the towering fence along the road and the cars releasing dangerous fumes, the little dog can only pace anxiously on the other side of the barrier.
Mercuria has already climbed onto a car’s roof, bouncing lightly as she moves from one to another with ease.
Red, white, black, green—her feet tread on the scorching car roofs, like a dance, or perhaps an unusual children’s game.
Mercuria
- Southeast, fading fast …
Eyes shut, Mercuria senses it, whispering softly to herself.
Driver
- What the hell are you doing, girl! It’s dangerous up there!
The car owners, without exception, stick their heads out of their windows and begin shouting at Mercuria.
The strands of her hair lift whimsically, and without a backward glance, her words reach the tops of their heads.
Mercuria
- It’s alright. Just keep steady.
- I won’t fail now.
Pickles
- Woof, woof—!
<Miss Mercuria …!>
The little dog’s unwavering loyalty drives him to stay with his companion, even in the midst of danger.
A chorus of car horns erupts as the dog leaps up, soaring over the fence and lands beside the girl.
Their feet press down on the brightly colored car roofs beneath the scorching sun, carving a path from one end of the densely-packed road to the other.
Tracker
- What in the …
In the dark, a silent tracker stares out in shock.
Pickles
- Grr, grr!
<Where are you going to now?!>
Mercuria
- South … black ants and warm currents …!
- You know exactly where I’m going!
Pickles
- Woof!
“Doggie”
- The puppy understands entirely.
ONiON
- What’s going on? Hey, the signal’s getting really weak! Whoa! Take it easy. Slow down!
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Suburbs)
ONiON
- So, who’s going to fill me in on what’s happened?
It is only as night falls and darkness blankets the city that they finally stop their pursuit.
Pickles
- Whuh, woof.
<We still haven’t found him yet.>
“Doggie”
- The puppy feels disappointed.
ONiON
- Alright, no need for disappointment. Don’t panic. There’s bound to be setbacks on the way to success, friends.
- But it’s getting pretty late. Do you guys have any idea where you’ll be staying for the night?
The crowded voices of the city seep through the canvas of a familiar tent, rising then falling as the night progresses.
In the hushed moments before slumber, Mercuria notices that Pickles hasn’t yet closed his eyes.
Mercuria
- You’ve brought a book along.
The little dog glances up from the pages.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, whuh.
<I hope to finish this work, Understanding Media, in the next few days.> - Grrr … grrr …
<I’ve observed how drastically media in human society has changed, and this book will help me grapple with the core reasons for this shift.>
Mercuria
- You’re exploring some very complex ideas.
- I won’t make the best philosophical companion for you, I’m sorry to say.
Pickles
- Woof, woof.
<That’s alright.>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is not bothered.
Pickles
- Woof-woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.
<“The medium is the message”—any interaction between individuals in itself carries philosophical meaning.>
Staring at the book under Pickles’s paws, Mercuria appears to fall into a moment of thought.
Mercuria
- I can see you prefer the world of literature to traveling our own.
Pickles
- Woof, woof.
<Most certainly.>
Mercuria
- Hmm …
- If the journey starts to wear us down, we can always decide to keep going or turn back.
- The truth is, the further we go, the more I feel that this task may be more than what I had envisioned.
- Not every journey needs to reach its original destination.
Pickles raises his head and wags his tail.
Pickles
- Whuh … whuh-woof …
<Ah, I believe I understand your point.> - Woof, woof?
<And what about you? What’s your opinion on the matter?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy would like to know your thoughts.
Mercuria gazes off into the distance.
Mercuria
- It was a sandwich.
- Fingers was the first person to share a bite of food with me; I was twelve, and it was my first time on the streets.
- It wasn’t easy, not at first. Food was always the first thing to run out.
- That’s why I’ll always be grateful to him.
The little dog blinks his eyes.
Pickles
- Whuh …
<I understand.> - Woof, woof, woof, woof.
<You repay favors and stick by your friends—a wonderful trait, one common among dogs.> - Woof, woof, hrrr—woof.
<As I said at the beginning, I’m more than willing to continue this journey with you.>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is with you.
Pickles
- Grrr, woof, grrr …
<Perhaps some things can only be understood through the journey itself.>
Mercuria extends her hand to hold Pickles’s paw.
ONiON
- 5 a.m. local time, the city lay fast asleep, including the two protagonists of our story, nestled in their cozy little tent.
- It was then that a shadowy figure carrying a gun crept into their tent, and after only a moment, stealthily emerged, clutching a dog.
- The full account was pieced together following an interview by your humble journalist, ONiON, with the reports from two parties involved.
- And now, dear viewer, we present to you the full story.
Pickles
- Aroo-roo … woo-roo-roo …
Mercuria
- Zzz … zzz …
???
- Shh!
Pickles
- Aroo? Aroo! Whuh-whuh-whuh!
???
- Tch, hey!
Pickles
- Whuh-whuh-whuh. Whuh-whuh-whuh-whuh! Whuh … whuh …
- Aroo …
ONiON
- The Border Collie may be one of the smartest dog breeds in the world, but wits are no match for the power of a tranquilizer gun.
- …
- Now, back to the story at hand.
Mercuria
- Right.
Mercuria slowly opens her eyes, waking from her sleep.
Mercuria
- Huh?
- Pickles?
Silence. The spot beside her is vacant.
Mercuria
- *gasp*
Mercuria
- Huff, huff … huff, huff!
- Where are you?
- Pickles …
- Pick—
All at once, a faint radiance enters her field of perception.
Silently, she follows the trail to its origin.
With the crisp sound of long grass snapping underfoot, she brushes aside the dead leaves beside a rock.
Mercuria
- Hey—there you are.
Hidden in the darkness, two small cunning eyes glint, peering at Mercuria through the crack in the rock.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Mercuria
- Hello, Fingers.
- MacGuffin the Knife—I’ve found him.
(The Headonion Show)
ONiON
- Joining us today is someone who experienced this bizarre incident firsthand. Please welcome Miss Mercuria!
Mercuria
- …
ONiON
- Mercuria, it’s true you’ve located the fabled stash of gold, MacGuffin the Knife, correct?
- Could you share with us how you managed to find him, in the flesh?
Mercuria
- …
ONiON
- Mm-hmm?
Mercuria
- It was a sunny day.
Mercuria
- The day that I met Fingers for the first time. We shared a sandwich on the street.
- Back then, he was just a kid studying literature at community college.
- But when he visited his mother on her sickbed with a letter of withdrawal and placed it on her velvet pillow …
- She kicked him out the next day.
Fingers
- After I get out, I’m heading north.
Mercuria
- That’s what he said.
Fingers
- North’s the place to be. Tons of cash to be made and the kind of life my **** parents could never imagine.
- The whole scene’s thriving, and every shiny little thing you’ve ever wanted is right there for the taking.
- Not even a complete dumbass pictures a future for himself behind these bars fighting over who gets to watch an old TV.
Mercuria
- But for him, that TV was the only link he had to modern culture while he was locked away.
Fingers
- Not that there’s ever anything good on. Most of the time, it’s nothing but ads.
Mercuria
- Over time, those ads changed him. They gave him an entirely new way of seeing the world.
The greatest “achievement” of consumerism is how it reduces the value of our lives.
Fingers
- It’s all about the labels you wear and what you spent to get them, that’s how you measure your success against everyone else, and the winner tears the loser’s world to shreds.
- If I had money, all the money I needed, I’d buy all the things I’ve seen in shop windows and TV ads.
That’s the motive of television commercials: to convince you that they’re selling the life that has been denying you.
Fingers
- All I’m doing is taking back what’s rightfully mine.
- That’s the only way you can call me someone who’s legit and untouchable.
(Visiting Room)
Mercuria
- Hello, Fingers.
- MacGuffin the Knife—I’ve found him.
Fingers
- …
- You found him?
- You mean you got it?!
Mercuria
- Yes.
Fingers
- The dog?! The one the boss would walk along the waterfront five friggin’ times a day?!
Mercuria
- Yes.
- I found him.
Every word that comes out of her mouth flows as effortlessly as grabbing a drive-thru meal on a Sunday evening.
She never realizes the weight behind her words; she strings them together like ribbons in the wind.
Seemingly unconcerned with their aftermath.
Fingers
- So, go on tell me!
Mercuria
- He was fifty miles south of Sugartown, out in the boondocks.
More accurately, he was stuck in the crevice of a large stone at an abandoned campsite.
Fingers
- Alright, so where do you get it now?
Mercuria
- Right here.
Fingers
- Only thing I can see here is you and me.
Mercuria
- They didn’t let me bring him into the visiting room.
Fingers
- What?
- So, what you’re telling me is, right now, MacGuffin the Knife is …
All it takes is a little imagination to picture that, at that moment, the world’s most valuable puppy is playing dominoes with the prison guards.
Mercuria
- I’ll hold onto him until you’re out.
Fingers fixes Mercuria with a sharp, rodent-like glint in his eyes.
Fingers
- Alright. Alright.
- So, go on, tell me, how’d you two … I mean, you … manage to find it?
Mercuria
- …
The girl stays quiet, her eyes narrowing as she holds Fingers’s gaze.
Fingers
- Eh?
Mercuria
- How about you tell me where my companion is?
Fingers
- What? What are you talking about?
Mercuria
- My partner, Pickles. He was taken by your man last night. I’d like to know why.
Fingers cracks his knuckles, each one making a sharp “click-clack” sound.
Fingers
- …
- Yeah, should’ve figured you’d catch wise that I gave the order.
A charged silence hangs in the air.
Mercuria
- That was a mistake.
- It’s corrupting your energy, clouding it with impurities.
- It’s already so different now from how it was back then.
- Watch out. Energy like that comes with a heavy price, one you may not want to pay.
Fingers
- Man, back when I met you, making threats wasn’t even in your playbook.
- The first rule of surviving on the streets: trust no one, and always keep a card up your sleeve.
- I assumed you knew how these things worked by now.
- Once you found out where the dog was, how was I to know you’d hand it over and not keep it for yourself?
His words stir up a hint of déjà vu.
The streets, the trash heaps, half-eaten sandwiches, and blood banks … the life she lived along her journey.
Mercuria blinks her eyes.
Mercuria
- Maybe it is.
- But that isn’t how I work.
Fingers’s face twitches with a sudden buried emotion.
Fingers
- Pfft. Hahahaha!
- I gotta say, Mercuria, sometimes you come off like you’re too innocent for this world, but then you’ll flip, and it’s like I’m dealing with a stone-cold killer.
- You seem like you’ve cracked the code on spinning those ironic little tales of yours.
- Mark Twain said it best: “The humorous story depends for its effect upon the manner of the telling …”
- “The humorous story is told gravely; the teller does his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it.”
Waxing poetic during a crisis is the signature of a second-rate literary nerd.
Fingers
- Let’s be real. In this situation, you can’t back out. You’ve gotta say yes, whether you like it or not.
- Tomorrow night, seven sharp, Black Iron Forest near the prison. Bring it here, and we’ll wrap this up.
Unfortunately, Mark Twain really did say those words.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Black Iron Forest)
A dark forest lies nestled in the unclaimed land behind the prison.
As she walks over the dry grass, the forest merges with the night. In the shadowy outlines, Mercuria sees a familiar shape making its way toward her.
Fingers
- I trust you’ve brought what I asked for, as per our agreement.
Shadows descend vertically from above, the sounds of the highway carrying horizontally from afar.
Mercuria
- Yes.
Fingers
- Glad you didn’t flake out.
Something moves closer; nesting sparrows flap their wings and fly out from the spot.
MacGuffin the Knife
- Woof!
Leaf shadows, bird silhouettes, tree figures, and even human shapes, shattered by the sudden bark of a dog, hidden in Mercuria’s arms.
Fingers
- MacGuffin the Knife!
Fingers walks into a more concentrated area of moonlight, his lackey following closely by his side.
Fingers
- We still gotta make sure …
- Yeah, that’s the pooch, MacGuffin the Knife.
The soft shuffling of footsteps grows nearer. Mercuria stands before him, clutching MacGuffin the Knife.
Mercuria
- Where’s Pickles?
Lackey
- Where are we keeping old Pickles, eh?
The lackey turns his head to Fingers, flashing him an unseen look.
Pickles
- Woof!
A second bark is heard, this time from behind Fingers.
MacGuffin the Knife
- Aroof, arf, arf, arf! Arf, arf, arf, arf …!
Pickles
- Whuh, woof, aroo—whuh, aroo, aroo, aroo!
The sky is filled with the relentless sound of barking and yipping from the two dogs, until after a good half minute, the dogs finally cease their uproar.
Fingers
- Yeah, yeah. Pickles is right here.
- Here’s the deal. We count down from five. I’ve got your dog, you’re holding mine. We step forward at the same time.
Mercuria nods.
Fingers
- Five.
Fingers takes a step forward.
Mercuria takes a step forward.
Fingers
- Four.
- Three.
- Two.
In an instant, Pickles wiggles free from Fingers and leaps to the ground.
MacGuffin the Knife, the legendary Chihuahua, falls from Mercuria’s hold.
…
Mercuria
- … ?!
A bullet rips through the air from somewhere in the trees. From their reactions, it hadn’t been from either party.
???
- Like my mom would always say, you’d have to have onions for brains not to figure this out.
Mercuria
- …
- Two hitmen …?
Two figures, armed with PP-19 Bizon submachine guns, curse under their breath as they step out from behind the trees.
???
- Once you pull the bolt and load the round, your timing needs to be spot-on, because each time you pull the trigger, you’ll fire a bullet.
- Don’t treat this like it’s not a big deal. Now, focus, AJ! Or you’re gonna run out of ammo!
AJ
- …
<But I hit something, didn’t I?>
ONiON
- We can now reveal that the suspects have been captured, and are currently awaiting pre-trial legal proceedings.
- Panzo and AJ, the duo responsible for the gas station explosion.
- They too, just like the other characters in our tale, were after MacGuffin the Knife.
- And yes, both gave us an exclusive interview from prison. For the complete story, be sure to watch our next special.
- We’ve made sure to censor the exact language of the interview to uphold the values this program has always championed.
The killers march confidently toward the person on the floor, stepping over the dazed lackey.
They squat down and check for any sign of breathing.
Panzo
- Dead.
- No question about it, this is Fingers for sure.
- That’s one problem solved, but did you catch where that dog ran off to?
AJ
- …
<Yeah. I saw it run off.>
Panzo
- It ran away? Hell, I can’t see squat in this dark.
AJ
- …
<And I think that girl was holding a dog too.>
The blinding white beam of the flashlight cuts through torn pant hems, worn shoes, crossing branches, and thick leaves, resting finally on a shadowy form.
Panzo
- Goddammit.
Panzo’s voice is laced with an unmistakable air of despair.
Panzo
- This isn’t MacGuffin the Knife.
- So, what the hell is this dog doing here?!
On the grass, a Border Collie is curled up in the trembling arms of a silver-haired girl.
Mercuria
- Uh …
Pickles
- Whuh, whuh … whuh … whuh?!
The Border Collie lifts its head, staring at the disoriented hitmen, Panzo and AJ, beneath the dark sky.
Pickles
- Whuh …
<Hello there …> - Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, whuh-woof.
<Under both ethical considerations and the framework of the law, your actions are thoroughly reprehensible.>
“Doggie”
- The puppy feels deep disgust and anger towards your behavior.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Approximately three hours prior.
(Inside the Car )
Panzo
- This past month, we’ve hit up three gas stations, five convenience stores, and that one karaoke joint.
- Add on a few rear-end collisions and that fireworks show we performed at that last station.
A flurry of sign language gestures ensues.
Panzo
- Yeah, yeah, I know.
The person in the passenger seat appears annoyed, shifting his feet on the dashboard and re-crossing them.
Panzo
- It’s not time yet, my silent friend. This small-time stuff is just to keep us fed.
- The big fish we’ve been waiting for is about to get released, AJ.
AJ starts signing again.
Panzo
- Oh, for god’s sake, quit whining. The info I got says today’s the day. Fingers is getting out.
- Since their boss went down, Fingers is the only one who’s got the lowdown on MacGuffin.
- After he’s cut loose then we’ve gotta be on his tail. No matter what it takes, we’re getting the scoop on MacGuffin.
AJ
- …
<So this is why we’ve been baking in this broken-down car for three hours in over a hundred-degree weather?>
Panzo
- Buddy, you’ve got a lifetime of wealth, freedom, and peace ahead. What’s that against a few more hours in a beat-up car?
(Black Iron Forest)
The smoke from the herbs rises gently, the candle flame sways, and Mercuria closes Fingers’s eyes.
Mercuria
- May your spirit rest in peace.
Mercuria shuts Fingers’ eyes, and Panzo’s narration draws to a close.
Panzo
- That’s the long and short of it.
ONiON
- You tracked Fingers to this spot, all in the name of getting your hands on MacGuffin the Knife!
The journalist’s voice filters through the communicator.
ONiON
- But you made the mistake of thinking Pickles was MacGuffin the Knife, and in your panic, your guns went off!
Panzo
- Yes.
ONiON
- A textbook example of a killer’s plight. One wrong move, and boom, there’s a hole where a head used to be.
AJ
- …
<We thought we’d be out of the game after this job.>
Silence and a quiet fear spread through the air.
Mercuria
- You killed the wrong person.
Panzo
- Nah, nah, nah, look. We’d been watching Fingers for some time, but we just didn’t expect there to be another dog. Right, AJ?
Mercuria
- You’ll pay for this.
Panzo
- Ha! Haha! Oooh, I’m shaking in my boots. Fine. Look, crazy girl, you win this time.
- But from what I saw, you were the one with the real pooch, right?
AJ
- …! Umm! Umm!
AJ, standing to one side, seems to have noticed something and signals Panzo to come over.
A beam of moonlight slips through the leaves, shining on Panzo’s shocked face.
Panzo
- Holy hell, MacGuffin the Knife is here after all.
All eyes finally land on MacGuffin the Knife.
This 6-inch tall, 4.75-pound Chihuahua trembles on the spot, looking at everyone with wide, innocent eyes.
Panzo
- You sure this is the one? MacGuffin the Knife?
AJ
- …
<Tch— it’s definitely the same type of dog. The fur’s the same, the ears curve the same, even the tear stains line up.>
Panzo and AJ exchange glances.
Panzo
- Nah—how do we know its legit? We already iced someone just to get here. We need to make sure we’re really getting what we came here for.
Mercuria says nothing, her grip tightening on the little dog’s leash.
Panzo
- Come on, you really want me to believe you’d just hand over MacGuffin the Knife like it was nothing?
- That seems like a bad deal to me.
Panzo and AJ draw their weapons, aiming them at Mercuria.
Panzo
- So how are you gonna prove this dog’s the real MacGuffin the Knife?
The gun’s black muzzle stares at her, yet her gaze drifts upward, connecting with Panzo’s eyes.
In the heat of this standoff, Fingers’s overlooked lackey, standing to the side, finally breaks the silence.
Lackey
- Th-That dog … No doubt, it’s MacGuffin the Knife …
- Hey! Hey! Don’t shoot. I’m telling the truth!
- Check behind its ear. There should be a little stud there.
Panzo crouches down and bends MacGuffin the Knife’s ear.
Panzo
- Well, I’ll be damned. There’s a stud, just like he said.
The earring-wearing Chihuahua stands proudly, as if aware of just how invaluable he really is.
MacGuffin the Knife
- Aroof-arf! Arf, arf, arf!
Mercuria
- I’m not fighting you for it.
- If you knew my story, you’d know I’ve never had a stake in this.
- They say MacGuffin the Knife’s belly is full of Rheingold. Are you sure you know how to get it out?
Panzo and AJ exchange glances.
Panzo
- Get it out?
AJ
- …
<Get it out?>
Mercuria
- Leave it in there, and it will forever remain just a dog, never becoming whatever it is you wish for.
Lackey
- I … I’ve got a plan …
- At the end of the day, it’s just a dog. We slice open its stomach and take the gold. That’s the quickest way.
Panzo
- Slice open its stomach?
AJ’s expression shifts noticeably.
AJ
- Mnn! Mnn, mnn! Mnn, mnn, mnn!
AJ steps back, signing angrily at everyone.
AJ
- …! Mnn, mnn!
Panzo
- He says, hell no, not even if all the gold in the world was in there.
AJ throws the proposer the world’s dirtiest gesture, seething with rage.
Mercuria
- There is another option.
Panzo and AJ cast a suspicious look her way.
Mercuria
- If you’ll agree with it, naturally.
Panzo and AJ patiently walk back to Mercuria, their sleeves torn by MacGuffin the Knife, though they appear not to mind.
Mercuria
- The Rheingold is contained within MacGuffin the Knife’s stomach, compressed through the use of arcanum. The principle is similar to one of the Foundation’s portable disks.
- The truth is, this isn’t particularly easy on the dog.
- What we need here is some healing.
Panzo and AJ raise their heads to look at Mercuria.
Panzo
- Hell, we’ve got ourselves a real, no-nonsense arcanist right here.
The Chihuahua is laid out on the ground on its belly. Mercuria lights some herbal incense, its smoke rising into the air.
Mercuria’s fingertips glow as she softly massages the Chihuahua’s belly.
Mercuria
- This will stimulate its intestines, speeding up its movements.
Mercuria helps the Chihuahua flip onto its other side and uses a pendulum to trace a circle on its back.
Mercuria
- This way, the foreign object will be passed naturally, and the process will be completely painless.
After a long wait, the Chihuahua quivers, and everyone leans in close.
Panzo
- …
AJ
- …
Pickles
- …
ONiON
- What’s the scoop?! Who’s gonna fill me in on what happened?!
Once the silence is broken, Mercuria begins to speak.
Mercuria
- ONiON.
MacGuffin the Knife
- Aroo …
The Chihuahua lifts its head, staring at everyone with teary eyes. The onlookers gaze back at it with equal emotion.
What we have here is simply a very, very healthy pile of … poop.
Silence spreads across the wooded grove. At the moment, the corpse lying to the side looks more alive than the onlookers.
Panzo
- Impossible, try again. Maybe your arcane skill’s the problem.
Mercuria
- There is something else I can do.
Mercuria pulls another vial from her bag, one glowing with a clear, bright light.
Mercuria
- I have here a brew made from various herbs; it may aid in the dissolution of the Rheingold.
She gently administers it to the Chihuahua.
A minute, two minutes, three minutes … five minutes … ten minutes.
As the Chihuahua quivers, the group once again gathers around for a closer inspection.
Panzo
- What’d you see, AJ?
AJ
- …
Lackey
- What if … we feed it another dose of laxatives?
MacGuffin the Knife
- Aroo …
The Chihuahua’s face turns pale. It lets out a few feeble whimpers, its eyes shifting across the faces of the others.
AJ
- …
AJ signs wildly, looking as though he is on the verge of tears.
Panzo
- Quit making this damn dog suffer. Nothing’s coming out.
- That’s just what he said.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(The Headonion Show)
ONiON
- Later, your faithful journalist discovered the final diary entry of the leader of Fingers’s gang, the Cheshire Cats, penned on his deathbed.
- In this heart-wrenching journal, we found these words.
- The Last Confessions of a Gang Boss
Gang Boss
- I know my body’s failing me, breath by breath. As the cough gets worse, I take stock of my life.
- I came from the Diego family. The first fifty years, I fought just to stay alive. Here, I’ve found work that lets me live.
- On the streets, people fear me. They show me the respect I deserve. That’s the kind of prestige I’ve earned.
- But when night falls and everything goes silent, I lie awake, feeling empty inside. The life I’ve lived makes it hard to love anyone, yet it’s something I crave.
- Money gives you what you need to stay alive, but love—love gives you what you need to live.
- MacGuffin the Knife is the only thing in my life I’ve ever truly loved.
- I tell everyone I meet there’s enough Rheingold in his belly to buy all of New York.
- But, it’s not true, not really. I’m the only one who truly understands how this mutt’s worth more than any Rheingold.
- I’ve taken many lives, but never has a single drop of that blood touched his fluffy coat.
(Black Iron Forest)
…
ONiON
- So …
A sudden hush, an awkward group of people, two dogs, and a corpse yet to be dealt with.
AJ
- …
AJ gestures politely to Mercuria.
Panzo
- He’s saying his farewells, you strange little lady.
Pickles
- Woof, woof! Woof, woof, woof?
<You’re leaving?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy seeks clarification.
Panzo
- Yep. Turns out the mutt didn’t have anything in him at all.
Panzo sounds exhausted, as though he has just faced the darkest night of his life.
ONiON
- What’s next for you? Will you keep up your crime spree? Are there plans to hit any more gas stations?
Panzo
- Don’t know. I’m … tired.
AJ
- …?
<What?>
Panzo
- Goddamn it! Don’t you get it yet?
- There’s no Rheingold, no MacGuffin the Knife. It’s just a mutt!
Pickles
- Woof, woof—woof, woof.
<This is an outcome other humans would usually be unable to so readily accept.>
Panzo
- Screw this! I’m taking a break—a real one. You know, I’ve always wanted to leave this place behind.
- I’m heading to the shore, find a place where I can see the waves, enjoy some good food …
AJ
- …
<Hey! If we’re talking dreams, I could go on for days!>
Mercuria and Pickles watch as they sign and whine as they walk off, still silently dreaming with one another as they squeeze back into their rundown car.
The door shuts with a solid “thud.”
Still under Mercuria and Pickles’ gaze, they drive off into the distance.
Pickles
- Whuh-woof—?
<Are they truly leaving, just like that?>
ONiON
- So, what’s the plan now? What do we do with this dog?
Pickles
- Woof, woof?
<Hmm?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is concerned.
ONiON
- Oh, Pickles, you know I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about the other one.
- MacGuffin the Knife.
- Maybe we ought to start with a new name? What do you think?
Mercuria takes out the picture of MacGuffin the Knife, and sets it ablaze with her lighter.
Pickles
- Whuh-woof, woof … woof, woof, woof, hrm?
<I never considered how important names are. It seems more so to humans than to dogs.>
The photo of MacGuffin the Knife burns away, its ash floating into the air before landing on Fingers’s pale, lifeless face.
(Promenade)
ONiON
- Just imagine—if Fingers hadn’t gone after MacGuffin the Knife, he might still be with us.
By the shore, at sunset. Pickles licks the ice cream in Mercuria’s hand.
The gentle breeze lifts Mercuria’s hair, while the journalist’s intermittent analysis comes in via the communicator.
ONiON
- This thing, which he thought would open the doors to a new world, instead set him on the path to his own ruin.
Half-melted ice cream drips onto the ground, each drop like a thought tapping out a rhythm.
The Chihuahua pokes its head out from Mercuria’s arms.
She rises to her feet.
Mercuria
- Let’s go.
Pickles
- Hrm? Woof, woof, woof, woof?
<But if we leave, what will become of the dog?>
“Doggie”
- The puppy is concerned.
Mercuria
- Oh, you mean this pup here?
Pickles
- Woof, woof … woof, woof, whuh-woof.
<Perhaps we should consider finding a suitable facility for wayward dogs.>
“Doggie”
- The puppy has a proposal.
Mercuria
- You mean a shelter, right?
Mercuria sets the Chihuahua aside.
Pickles
- Woof …?
Mercuria
- The shelter. I remember that place.
She blinks her eyes.
Mercuria
- A bed soaked in the scent of mushrooms, morning dew dripping from dried leaves.
- Clothes hung out to dry in the yard are only remembered once the rain starts. And so, we wore the rain.
- Good times, friends arrive and leave, one by one. Like notes in a melody.
- Summer comes, the fans break, everyone cries.
- Winter, the bugs breed, and everyone waits for what is to come.
- All of this—just a mere touch of this—is enough to captivate.
- But I had to leave.
- In the new world, there is always something waiting. Hunger, poverty, misery, strife, nights blend into days, danger, everywhere. They lie in wait, and we must face them.
- A dog, a joke, or a few specks of dust shining in the sunlight—each is vital.
- Don’t be afraid.
- He will live. He has a potent, healthy energy within, pushing him to grow and survive.
- He will find a place to belong, one much better than we could ever give him.
The dog takes a moment to think, then nods his head.
Pickles
- Grrr …
<I believe I understand your response.>
ONiON
- So, you lived in a shelter before?
A journalist always cuts to the heart of the matter.
But Mercuria offers no reply.
ONiON
- Okay. Just a thought, we might be able to borrow an infrared positioning device with extended range from the suitcase. If you’re worried, then we’ll always be able to locate him.
- We can check in on him, and make sure he’s safe wherever he goes in this big bad world.
At that moment, the Chihuahua twitches its little nose, pokes its head out, and its earring sparkles brightly in the sunlight.
Its sharp eyes catch a glimpse of red in the distance. It is a red balloon.
With a swift push of its front paws, the Chihuahua jumps from the stool.
Mercuria
- Hey!
Pickles
- Woof!
ONiON
- What happened? What’s going on?
The Chihuahua’s quick, nimble steps propel it forward at speed, as it disappears into the crowd.
Pickles
- Woof, woof!
<Miss ONiON—>
Mercuria
- It ran off.
Mercuria and Pickles watch in disbelief as the Chihuahua sprints off.
ONiON
- …
- Looks like all our worries were for nothing.
- He’s off chasing his own “MacGuffin.”
The red balloon drifts under the blue sky, and the world remains unchanged.
Pickles steals a quiet look at Mercuria.
Pickles
- Woof, woof, woof … woof, woof, woof.
<During my abduction, I managed to finish reading Understanding Media.> - … Grrr … Grrr, grrr.
<I must admit, his dognapping approach was much milder than we expected.> - Woof, woof. Woof, woof.
<That being said, we must still deeply condemn any illegal conduct and support all appropriate punishments and corrective measures.>
ONiON
- Well then, let’s extend our thanks to Pickles for his insightful account. And with that, our in-depth investigation draws to a close. If any viewers have further contributions to offer, you can reach out to your humble journalist ONiON backstage.
- By the way, if there are any canine communication experts among our viewers, feel free to contact me urgently. We’re hiring paid dog-speak translators.
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(Police Office)
The TV shuts off with a loud “click.” A towering figure in a police uniform blocks the screen.
Officer
- Stop watching that crap, and listen up.
- There’s been an update in the Black Iron Forest shooting case. We’ve just received an anonymous tip pointing to the identities of the perps.
- The victim was a former member of the Cheshire Cats, known within the gang as “Fingers.”
- The suspects are believed to be two retired contract killers, and gang violence may be a factor in the motive.
- Alright, get to work, people.
Wanted: Panzo and AJ.
(Lobby, Suitcase)
Argus
- Well, who’s this now?
Unable to sleep, the night-blind bounty hunter stumbles into someone in the dark.
Mercuria
- Oh, I’m making a call.
Mercuria lowers the phone receiver, the air around her filled with the scent of herbal incense.
Argus
- Oh, Miss Mercuria. I didn’t expect to find you ‘round here so late.
Mercuria spins around, grabs a glass of water from the table, and offers it to Argus.
Mercuria
- This should offer your eye some relief.
Argus
- How did you know?
She doesn’t answer, instead heading to the center of the common room and placing a circle of lit candles there.
Mercuria
- This trip …
Argus
- Huh?
Smoke rises, the pendulum sways, and the ceremony is about to begin.
Mercuria
- I see energy slipping into death, but I cannot intervene.
- However, by placing candles on his body, I can help him tap into energy from another plane.
- I hope he remains untouched by the chaotic spirits of that world.
Mercuria softly says the last of her words, then begins to dance. As she does, a quiet tenderness and sadness flow from her movements, barely perceptible to most.
ONiON
- In response to the overwhelming complaints alleging the content of this special to be illogical, irrational, or just plain false, let me take this moment to restate the end credits message.
- Whether this program is rooted in real events is yet to be determined, its authenticity is left to the interpretation of the audience. More importantly, this program does not claim to hold the final truth concerning all related incidents.
(THE END)