Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    A Fishy House Call

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    Minion
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    A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Thu Apr 28, 2016 11:31 am

    Time: Afternoon
    Date: April 28, 0006

    So far, Mitchell's advertisement had received a few nibbles... One such nibble was a mother who wanted help baking cupcakes for her son's birthday, with the added caveat that the cupcakes be varied to cater to needs of many species who were attending, such as sugar-free options. Another had been a false alarm, with a young creature unfamiliar with cars assuming there was something wrong with his vehicle. As it turned out, the creature simply forgot to put more gas in the car. Still, he paid Mitchell for his time and the two of them had parted ways. Between Jo's shop and the fact that people didn't seem to be inventing thing like they used to, Mitchell had been called for cooking and baking more than any mechanic jobs. He had no complaints, though. It kept his hands busy, and it wasn't too frequent that he felt bogged down. The jobs hadn't been much, but it felt just right... As if Minion was finally taking a few steps towards being his own person. Towards doing something other than hiding away.

    Today saw Mitchell being called to the housing district of the city. Not a part of the city he was used to, but the directions he had received over the phone were sufficient. The voice had belonged to a man Minion had never met or spoken to, completely unfamiliar and...oddly raspy, with a hiss to it. Perhaps he was a snake man...? Strange voice aside, the request had been quite simple; the man on the phone wanted to create a nice meal for his partner. Who could say no to that, right?

    Mitchell plodded along the sidewalk, a bit of paper in one hand with scribbled directions that had been dictated to him over the phone. The holographic image had been tinkered to change Mitchell's outfit to a more suiting, summer one. A jade green button-up shirt that would really make his scales pop if they could be seen, jean shorts that were paired with a shiny leather belt, and a pair of dark brown leather slip on shoes. As he'd be in the kitchen, there was no need for elaborate accessories. Beneath the hologram, Minion wore a pink apron bound snugly around his robotic body. Amber eyes scanned the numbers upon the houses and mailboxes. Occasionally, his gaze flickered back down to the paper before returning to the houses. It looked to be a nice neighborhood... Bright and clean cut lawns, definitely thriving, and houses that looked roomy. Funny how Minion had never really lived in an actual house... It had been prison, evil lairs, underwater bases and the Inn for him. Maybe one day...? The feel of the sun beaming down upon his scales was a comforting feeling, as was the sound of domestic life. In his tank, Minion's fins fluttered cheerily. Kids laughing, dogs barking... Still a part of the city and yet far enough away to feel clean and suburban. Maybe Cleo would appreciate more space too...

    Storing those thoughts away to consider for later, he finally found the number he was looking for: 225. For a moment, Minion paused to admire it from the end of the walkway. A nice contrast between pale walls and a striking red door, as well as a very deep color of blue for the roof. Flowers along the walkway and bushes along the front of the house, as well as a shady tree. All in all, it looked like a nice home. Mitchell stepped foot onto the cement walkway and began to make his way towards the red door, adjusting his sleeves all the while. Beneath his hologram, Minion adjusted his apron. Hopefully, the man had all the materials they would need...though a run to the store wouldn't be awful. Stopping before the door, Minion grinned pleasantly, a smile that appeared on his hologram as well. What seemed to be a young man with bronze skin, amber colored eyed and shaggy black hair, raised a fist to knock upon the door while his other arm remained stiffly in place behind his back.

    Knock knock knock!
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Mon May 02, 2016 8:17 pm

    "Ssshally! Mussst you really lay on the windowsssill? I jussst cleaned it!" Cats, oi...

    Corpse feet hurriedly shuffled left and right, the living room a whirlwind of dust and fur. All morning - all morning - Judge Fear had tackled the impossible task of cleaning up after the animals and their hairy behinds. As soon as he finished walking the dogs and saw Kev out, it had been nothing but clean, clean, clean. And, just when the ghoul thought himself finished, it had been clean, clean, clean some more. Why? Because company was coming over, that's why! One just couldn't invite a guest into their home if the place was an absolute pigsty; it of course wasn't, but Judge Fear was one of those military-esque types. If he didn't see his horrific reflection on any of the surfaces, then it wasn't clean.

    Nothing escaped the superfiend's critical eye, nothing. Between vacuuming all the nooks and crannies, and wiping down all the hard-to-reach places and counter tops with polish and sanitizer, he must have increased the house's health levels by at least (and this was a conservative estimate) 40%! All in a single morning's hard work, ahhh... His chores didn't stop there, however.

    By the time the clock chimed 11:00 and caused the dogs to fuss, all attention was on the kitchen.

    Yes, the kitchen! Because that's where company was going to be, see. The living room and general area was just to look pretty and appealing to outside eyes, but the kitchen... Oh, but the kitchen was where company was going to cook, and one can't have company cooking in a dirty kitchen, now, can they? Not that it was particularly abhorrent in the first place, really... Nevertheless! It was scrubbed down from top to bottom, Judge Fear even going through great lengths to mop and collect stragglers of flaky scales from a certain alien. That damn Kev and his shedding... Ugh! It was enough to make the ghoul's skin crawl, and that was saying something. Once that unpleasant business was all tidied up and dumped into the waste, it was time for the most important step of all: laying out the ingredients! And, the helmeted fiend must say, everything he had chosen from his earlier outing at the market looked quite appetizing...

    One nice and plump butternut squash, ready and waiting for dicing; a medium yellow onion, also ready for dicing; three cloves of fresh garlic; a bottle of olive oil; canisters of paprika, cayenne pepper, ground black pepper, and salt; a sweet apple, to be grated; a soft box of low-sodium chicken broth (good for blood pressure); one fresh ginger root; and a few sprigs of thyme. And to think, this was just the first part! Off to the side were a few strips of bacon, uncooked; a petite glass jar of Dijon mustard; a sample bottle of pure maple syrup; and a bag of brown sugar.

    Now you could see why Judge Fear asked for hired help, no?

    Everything (assuming it was non-perishable; those remained in the fridge) was meticulously arranged on the kitchen counter top, biggest to smallest and in the order established on the recipe. There was of course a segment Judge Fear remained uncertain of, but he figured to best leave that to the actual chef who knew what they were doing. And speaking of that chef, they should be arriving just... about...

    Knock knock knock!

    ARRRROOOO! Yip, yip, yip! Ruff! Ruff! WOOF.

    Sigh, and so it begins...

    "Biddy, Ossscar, Percy, Metusss! Isss that how we behave in thisss houssse?"

    Silence.

    "Thank you."

    ...thump ...thump ...thump.

    Click!


    This was it. This was the moment of truth. What would his guest look like, were they a nice sort, and did they really have nice, strong muscles? All sorts of questions jumped about in the ghoul's squishy head. It's now or never, because it was time to see what this Mr. Mitchell Finley looked like! The front door peeled open and all eyes, canine and more, remained glued to the mystery guest behind curtain number one. "Hello! Glad to finally have you here, Mr. Mitch... ell..." Oh boy. That... That wasn't at all what anyone had been expecting. A painfully awkward pause ensued before manners were once again remembered. "...Finley."  

    Don't ask the question...

    Don't ask the question burning in your mind, because it'd be awfully ru -

    "U-Um, no offenssse, but..." Oi, here we go. "Are... Are you... a fisssh? I-In a robotic sssuit?" Well, there go the muscles and an unspoken fantasy, all in one soul-crushing blow.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Mon May 02, 2016 11:28 pm

    ARRRROOOO! Yip, yip, yip! Ruff! Ruff! WOOF.

    Goodness, wasn't that quite the welcome wagon? Dogs, and several of them by the sounds of it. Just as soon as the sound had started up, a semi-familiar voice spoke up to hush them. Ah, this was definitely the right house. With as distinct a voice as that one was, how could anybody mistake it for anyone else? Straightening up so that his posture was perfect, both for the robotic body and the hologram, Minion couldn't help but feel a little intrigued. Megamind had only ever owned a cat, and the robotic creations they made always seemed to have dog-like personalities. Would these dogs like him? Hopefully they wouldn't be able to smell that something was off... And hopefully they wouldn't try to knock him down or lick his face. Gross...

    Sound stirred on the other side, before the crimson door opened. The sight of brown, inquiring canine eyes was not a surprise. The dogs were not uniform either, as they ran the gamut of long fur to short, little lap dog to large Great Dane, and skinny athletic dog to a wrinkly Bulldog! Mitchell smiled politely, waving a hand to the inquisitive pooches before directing his gaze to the man of the house. And, gah. What a man. A tall man with...green skin. Not...not green like his scales, or even like Megamind's own blue, but... Green like an infected and inflamed wound, all over his body. Top that off with a metal helmet, casual black clothes that looked rather like a beatnik's, and glowing other worldly eyes behind the helm...

    Minion, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

    Swallowing thickly, the smile became a bit strained, though it did not waver. Far be it from him, an alien fish, to judge based on appearances! Sure, it wasn't expected but... A job was a job, and this man seemed nice enough! A little...spooky, with the glowing gaze and the long talons but... Hey! No need to judge, huh? The man's hesitation was rather strange, but he chalked that up easily to a simple brain fart. "Glad to be here, Mister...?" Mitchell's own voice wavered questioningly. Had he ever gotten a name? Hm...

    "U-Um, no offenssse, but... Are... Are you... a fisssh? I-In a robotic sssuit?"

    "..." Mitchell stared back, face contorting into his best poker face while Minion's mind seemed to have taken a back seat for a moment. Ha. Ha. That was funny. It almost sounded like this man just asked if Mitchell was a fish in a robotic suit! Ha, what a card. A few seconds ticked by, and the implications finally set in. "Ah-!" With a shrieking gasp that almost sounded rather feminine, his arms crossed over his chest as if to cover himself. Peering down at the watch, one hand grasped the sides of it as he looked over the settings. "Oh no, oh no...!" Panic set in as he checked it over. Had he walked over without his hologram on...! But, no. The watch was fine. The hologram was working, and it was in fact the right hologram.  Mitchell froze, and his robotic suit froze was well. Minion's fins wavered around, the luminescent antennae that ran down his head bobbed and fluttered in an agitated fashion. Gills worked overtime, sucking in water as if he were gasping for breath. Slowly, the alien fish within his tank looked up to gaze at the man, and Mitchell's head followed the movement.

    Still rather frightened, he nevertheless stared right into the glowing vent of the helm that functioned as eyes. "H-how...how can you see me...?" His fins moved fast, propelling the fish against the back of his tank as he stared back, suddenly feeling very naked and vulnerable. It had been so long since a person saw him for what he was. A cat was a cat, and a fish was a fish, but a person...? Someone capable of speech, who could go around talking about meeting a fish in a suit...? "Y-you shouldn't be seeing me at all, you shouldn't! You s-should be seeing a hologram, but it's...it's functioning correctly! What...are you?"
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Tue May 10, 2016 7:45 pm

    Golly, that was such a feminine shriek - a loud one, too. But hey, maybe it was a... er, non-gendered fish? Those surely existed, right? Or, you know, it could just be a male fish-creature but with a distinctly girlish flair. Point being, who was Fear to ju -

    "What...are you?"

    Well alright, then. Cue the tinny snort.

    "Ssshouldn't I be asssking the sssame of you - who, might I add, isss masssquerading asss sssomething you are mossst definitely not?" Strong muscles... this is what the superfiend gets. But! A good sport Fear could be, even if insulted. "Alright, let'sss get thisss unpleasssant busssinessss sssettled," he dryly remarked. Lifting up a particularly grotesque finger (don't you just love it when old bones creak and taut skin stretches?), the ghoul first pointed to himself. "I am undead and therefore an abomination of nature. No, I am not a zombie. No, I don't like the tassste of brainsss. And no, I don't ressst in a ssshallow grave or coffin. Not anymore, anyway." He then pointed the talon at Mitchell, gesturing to his suit. "Yesss, I can sssee you - all of you. How? Becaussse I am a psssychic. And yesss, thisss ssskin isss green, but not really from rot or fessstering woundsss. It'sss green becaussse, well..." Fear shrugged. "It'sss jussst green," was the easy answer. The hard answer relied on complex science (read: bullshit magic) and trade secrets.

    Those lovely details out of the way, Fear loudly clapped his hands together and pointed both index fingers at the fish-creature. "Ssso, Mitchell Finley, huh?" Riiiiight... "Well, you already know that I am a psssychic; FYI, lying isss highly ill-advisssed." Wait for it. "...Minion." Zing, right in the gills. The helmeted ghoul didn't wait for his hired help to process things in his little fishy brain. "Lisssten, mate... Whatever happened in your passst livelihood that requiresss you to walk around in a disssguissse isss none of my busssinessss. I jussst need you to help me cook sssomething for my partner. Pleassse tell me you can actually do thisss."

    That better not be a lie too, because so help him...
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Wed May 11, 2016 10:35 pm

    Well! With a snort, the uh...man before Minion flipped his own question back at him. The fish gave a watery snort of his own, frowning. "Honestly, I wouldn't be able to tell you myself. Last of my kind, planet exploded, all...that pleasant...stuff." A robotic hand, rolling his wrist while the other arm remained fixed over the robot's chest. Minion didn't even know for sure if he was a part of an actual species, or grown in a lab! No species name... The best answer was simply 'alien fish'. As for the green man before Minion's eyes...the answer was not so simple. Undead, and an apparent abomination of nature, although the fish was obviously not in the place to agree or disagree with that assessment. Undead did not mean zombie however, and apparently he wasn't undead in any stereotypical way. Just...um...really green and weird looking?

    When a pointed talon came pointing his way, his free arm returned back to cross over his chest as if trying to shield something important. More a subconscious response to Fear's peeping than anything else! As for the 'how'... This man was a psychic! No amount of fancy holograms were going to fool someone who could peek into one's mind like that. Minion huffed, arms dropping back to his sides. Inside the tank, he swam closer to the tank. No longer afraid, now he couldn't help but be annoyed. "Of course, after all this time in disguise, of course I eventually find a psychic undead man and have my cover blown!" Perfect! Great. Life as Mitchell Finley was over. Welcome back, reputation as a nannyfish.

    It only got better as the psychic man easily picked out his true name, a grimace appearing over both fish and hologram. "Hngh..." Better than nannyfish but to be called Minion again felt...strange. Sent a tingle up his spine and made his fins waver in the water almost hesitantly. "Well, you are psychic, right? If you know my name...then you probably already know why I'm in disguise." He imagined it'd be hard to pick out that little detail without seeing everything that was tied to it. Good, and bad. The question that almost seemed begging was actually rather insulting! Robotic hands planted themselves upon his hips, frowning deeply as he bobbed in his tank. "You think because I'm a fish, I can't cook? The disguise is just so I can walk around, I can still cook! You think I'd offer to do a job I cannot do?" An insulted scoff as he took a step forward. "Show me to your kitchen and I'll prove it."
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Sat Jun 04, 2016 8:11 pm

    Now hold on there, son. Where's the fire? Fear didn't know what a 'nannyfish' was (was it a motherly old lady-fish?), but he recognized annoyance when he felt it. "Don't get your finsss in a twissst," the helmeted ghoul rasped. Or would that be, um, a knot...? It's hard making expressions for fish. "Like I sssaid, your busssinesss isss your own. I'm not here to rat you out - jussst need expertissse cooking, that'sss all. No reassson for grumpy gillsss." But grumpy is certainly what Minion got, because he didn't like Fear's previous insinuation. "What!?" Fear huffed, bunching up his bony shoulders, palms upturned. "You're a bloody fisssh, mate! It'sss not unreasssonable to think that a fisssh can't cook - you've no handsss and you probably like fisssh flakesss, ssso bite me!" Please don't bite him... That would be rather bad for you, see. "Besssidesss, you offered falssse advertisssing," the superfiend added, further strengthening his case. "You sssaid there would be ssstrong musssclesss, and I sssure don't sssee any. The onesss beneath your ssscalesss don't count." A pause. "...Thossse are ssscalesss, right?" Anyway...

    "Show me to your kitchen and I'll prove it."

    Fear attempted to placate his guest by patting the air. "Alright, alright," he hissed. "You've made your point, Mr. Mitchell - thisss way, pleassse." Seeing how the agitated fish-alien was his guest, the superfiend waited for Minion to fully step into the house before closing the door. A long and narrow hallway awaited them both, its halls a light beige and the air about it rather... cheery, if not spacious. "The kitchen isss not too far - jussst a quick jot ahead," he instructed. And indeed it was.

    Within mere seconds of striding through the hall, moving past the dining room on the left and the stairs on the right, Fear faithfully lead his guest to the kitchen and bar without incident. Well, almost without incident... No sooner has they both entered the area, a plethora of shiny wet noses butted into Minion's legs. Shally was naturally indifferent. "Oh you mangy muttsss! Get away from our guessst - ssshoo, ssshoo!" It was a battle for the ages, waving away those wagging tails and curious brown eyes, but the helmeted ghoul was a dog wrangler in his own right. Nails and paws noisily clacked against the kitchen tiling as Fear returned everything to order.

    "Here we are!" he remarked happily, a spindly arm sweeping off to the side, showcasing the kitchen. Like the hallway, it was spacious and lightly coloured, well lit and devoid of clutter. The appliances were relatively new and modern, the cabinets were of a wonderful oak finish, and the counter tops were made of a hardy stone, perhaps granite. But, most of all, it was clean. Fear's absurd stature and gangly body stood out like a sore thumb, the ghoul stooped. "Nice, no? We've yet to really colour thisss place up and really make it pop, but it'sss rather pleasssant for the mossst part. I'm certain you won't have much difficulty getting your whereaboutsss all in a tidy row." As with most contemporary kitchens, there were all the essentials: a stove, a microwave, a refrigerator, new pots and pans, cutlery, baking and cooking ware, and - most importantly - the foodstuffs. Minion shall find that everything had already been set out for him, minus the perishables, in neat little rows and arrangements based on categories. "Er, apologiesss..." Fear couldn't help but chuckle, a pinch embarrassed. "I had time on my handsss and I am a ssstickler for detailsss, like cleanlinessssss. Isss there anything you will need, other than what hasss been provided?"

    An awkward bumpkin he may be, but never let it be said that Fear was incapable of giving that extra oomph of effort.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Tue Jun 14, 2016 3:34 am

    As if to prove his fins weren't in a twist at all, they fluttered in a smooth motion like an audience doing the wave. See? No twists, no tangles. Still, Fear's reassurance worked to calm some of the alien fish's anxiety. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that." He truly did. "If expertise cooking is what you're after, you made a good choice calling me!" Minion bobbed within his tank, a light grin on his face that only barely twitched as the corpse tried to defend his small-minded prejudice. "But I do have hands!" Robot hands held themselves up before Fear, digits wriggling about as the hologram repeated the motion with human looking hands. Maybe not the most normal of robotic hands, but they worked! Curling back into fists, they settled back onto metal hips. "And although I might like fish flakes, that doesn't mean I'm a stereotypical fish that floats in water and goes 'glub glub' all day. I'm a person." Too bad Portal City didn't have Oscar awards.

    The proud, vigilant pose to the robotic body seemed to waver at Fear's next point though, metal torso lurching forward and no longer holding his hands upon his hips. Instead the fingertips tapped together anxiously, the intimidating robotic body now more like a scolded schoolboy. The ghoul might have a point with the false advertising... "Well...! I figured that the metal skeleton could make up for the lack of human muscles! These robot arms are a lot stronger than your average human!" Minion insisted in a bright and chipper tone, hoping to soothe whatever betrayal Fear felt over his lack of muscles. "And yes, these are scales. Fish scales."

    With a shift of the name being used to address him, (Mr. Mitchell had a nice ring to it) Minion stepped into the house and cast a glance around the foyer. It was primarily a long little hallway, with three open doorways. One to the left, one right, and one up ahead. A glance to each side told him that those rooms were the dining room and a living room, while the one ahead looked to be the kitchen, with tiles. Paint on the walls of this hallway was a beige color, neutral and yet cheery. Minion was very gentle was he walked, arms pulled close to his chest and steps kept close and cautious. Left right, left right! Even with his overly careful walk, this house felt spacious enough that he didn't feel cramped in a box. Then again, looking at his host, a tall and gangly man... A spacious house was a must. Amber eyes caught a few framed pictures on the walls, beloved pooches in cute little poses, some asleep and others awake and running around a bright flower meadow. A slumbering tortoiseshell cat in the metal arms of a robot. It all made for a bright atmosphere for so dark and creepy a host. Distantly, the fish wondered what Fear's partner was like...

    Metal feet clicking lightly against the tiles, Minion found every single one of those pictures pooches were giving him the typical dog greeting. From a tiny min-pin to a large Great Dane, their black moist noses pressed against his legs to sniff, no doubt confused since they could smell fish, but not see it. Perhaps they could also smell Cleo? Minion had never owned a dog, but with the robots Megamind created, they might as well have had dogs! Smiling kindly, he reached down to stroke a few of the dog's heads with light, gentle scratches. Of course, dogs in the kitchen were a health hazard and so as they were made to leave, the fish waved to them happily. Attention was brought back to the kitchen, these walls were a light yellow. There was thankfully quite a bit of room in the actual kitchen for movement, with a bar area for people to sit down at. The lights were bright, the appliances seemed to be in good condition, and the dark counter tops and oak finish cabinets went well with the white tiles and yellow walls. "It's very nice, yes. Definitely feels like a home kitchen and not a clinical one." He preferred the homier kitchens. All chrome metal kitchens looked...nice, but felt detached.

    Stepping forward to investigate the kitchen proper, he gave the oven a look-see and popped his head inside of the fridge as well. As organized as the kitchen was, the counter tops held a variety of objects, from baking sheets and parchment paper to a large assortment of ingredients. A plump butternut squash, a yellow onion, three cloves of garlic, olive oil, paprika, cayenne and black pepper, salt, an apple, chicken broth, ginger root, thyme, bacon strips, Dijon mustard, maple syrup and finally...brown sugar. After a brief detour to the sink to wash off his hands, Minion dried them with a dish towel and inspected each fruit and vegetable. No spots, quite fresh...no bruises either. Giving each one a quick rinse in the sink to be safe, he set them down neatly. Nearby was the recipe pamphlet, which he grabbed up in his hands and held close to his tank where he could see it. "Ah, soup! I might have known..." Then again, the chicken broth made it a little obvious. Still, Minion appraised the steps as listed in this recipe, a curious brow raised. He'd never made this dish before, but he was confident he could do it. "No sir, I think I've got everything I need. There's only one little thing to do..." Pivoting on a hip to face the oven, he reached for the dial and turned it to 425, a red button lighting up. He indicated to it with a finger. "Let me know when this light turns off, I'll start the first step and get it ready for the oven."

    With his back turned to the oven, Minion first grabbed the cutting board, a large knife, a large spoon, vegetable peeler, a sheet pan, and parchment paper. Lining the pan with the paper completely, he turned his attention back to the cutting board. Pulling the butternut squash over and laying it atop the board, he held it steady as the hand wielding the knife came down in two steady strokes. Chopping off the end pieces of the squash, he nudged these aside to be tossed in the trash later. With both ends now flat, they would anchor better to the cutting board. Setting the knife aside for a moment, one hand held the squash steady while the other grabbed for the peeler. Starting at the newly chopped ends, he pulled the peeler's edges down over the skin of the vegetable. In long, thin strips, the skin peeled right off and he placed them in the pile with the end pieces.

    Once it was bare, he grabbed for the knife again and halved the squash where the neck of it met the body. The slice made for a nice, thick and moist sort of noise as he cut through the fresh meat of the vegetable. His action had awarded him with two halves of butternut squash, each one that would need to be tended to differently. Setting aside the seed-filled body, he focused on the neck of the squash as he turned it on its side, knife pushing down to cut it into several circular disks. Working one disk at a time, he sliced them into four long, rectangular pieces. Then, turning the entire sliced disk to the right 90 degrees, he sliced them again in order to dice the pieces up. The center pieces would make for perfect squares, while the outer edges of the squash made for a more triangular cube, but these would be fine. He sprinkled them upon the pan, spreading the cubes out before coming back to the cutting board.

    Cutting the second piece in half, he used the spoon to scoop out the seedy innards and set them aside on the board. Glancing over a shoulder as he worked, he addressed Fear curiously. "Will you be wanting these seeds for anything or are they good to be thrown out?" Slicing the squash into a row of semi-circle strips, he rendered each strip into cubes and sprinkled them to join their butternut squash brethren on the pan. Sweeping the board lightly and throwing away whatever had to be tossed out, he regarded the recipe for a moment. What was next...? Ah, the onion!
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Sat Jun 18, 2016 10:26 pm

    Just listen to this sassy salmon... I have hands, said the fish. I'm a person, said the fish. Fear didn't think of himself as a bigot, yet he was hard-pressed to believe that a fish, no matter how alien and civilized, could whip up a delectable meal suitable for proper consumption. He eyed the robot arms, struggling to muster up interest. "Sssorry, mate, but I'm not very keen on hydraulicsss and sssheet metal." Well, here's hoping Minion was more capable in the cooking department than he was in the eye candy one. Anyway, fast forward to the present!

    For the most part, Fear kept out of Minion's way and was content to play the role of observer. Goodness, look at that fish go, knowing his way around the kitchen in no time flat. He washed his hands, washed the goods, and went straight to business. Chop, chop, chop! Slice, slice, slice! The superfiend was gobsmacked. How is that a fish - a bloody fish - knew how to cook like an average Joe and he didn't? Embarrassing, that's what it was. Fear was downright ashamed to be outclassed by a wet scaly little blighter, though it really couldn't be helped. Why would an undead such as himself bother to cook, anyway? Can't do much with infertile soil and bleached bonemeal... He glanced away as Minion expertly handled the squash, unwilling to enable his insecurities at the moment. And a light...? O-Oh, the oven light! No, wait... that wasn't right. Er, some kind of light. Possibly that red one...? Yes, had to be. Made more sense.

    Fear pivoted on his cracked heels and directed his unwavering sights onto the light in question, like a trusty hound on guard duty. The mind was prone to wander, however... "Ssso, if you don't mind me asssking," he piped up. "How did you learn to cook? Blimey, watching you chop that damn thing all fancy-like hasss me feeling bummed. Colour me impressssed." Even if Fear hadn't a clue as to what Minion was doing half the time, either!
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Sat Jun 25, 2016 4:46 pm

    "Few people are." Came the simple remark. It was true, Fear was not alone in his lack of swooning over oily and metallic arms. Not that it really bothered Minion any. In fact, it'd probably freak him out if people suddenly began to faint over his robotic body. No sir. Not for this fish. With Fear keeping a steady watch on the oven, it freed Minion up to get to work, as he grabbed for the onion. As before, the fish alien brought down the knife to firmly slice off the top and bottom of the onion, ridding it of the pesky root and tip. Setting those ends aside, he placed the flat and freshly cut bottom of the onion down on the cutting board and sliced the onion lengthwise. As he pulled the dry and crackly skin off of each half, the ghoul spoke up with once again. "Hm?" Mitchell hummed, distracted and yet signaling for the man to keep going with his question.

    "How did you learn to cook?"

    "..." Both metal hands, previous busy with the vegetable, paused in their movements. An onion half in one palm, the skin dangling from the other's fingers. Glancing down at the kitchen counter, Minion chewed on his lip for a moment before he answered. "Well...I taught myself to cook. When M-" Before the word could come out, the fish stopped. Amber eyes seemed to roam back and forth within their sockets, searching for a better word. "When...my old friend left to live on his own, he didn't really know how to cook. He could boil some water, but...the quality of the food he could make wasn't the greatest. So...I taught myself how to cook for him. It freed him up to make his plans, I got to make sure he didn't die of malnutrition, it was a win-win!" Shrugging lightly, Minion found himself chuckling in fond memory. "I picked it up rather well, read cookbooks and even watched some cooking shows when he wasn't watching. I took to cooking like a fish to water." The disguised alien returned to his work the longer he talked, finding snippets of memory in his mind that weren't so closely tied to Megamind.

    Setting each half down with the cut side against the cutting board, he sliced the onion into small strips. Turning the sliced strips 90 degrees as he did with the butternut squash, he sliced through the strips of onion to create a diced pile of onion. Since the recipe called for only half of an onion, the uncut half was set aside to be stored for later. The diced bits were sprinkled with the cubed squash on the baking pan. The last vegetable to be added to the pan was the garlic, and his thin digits reached over to grasp a bulb. Tips digging into the paper-like material, he began to peel this skin off as he did with the onion. It proved to be a bit more difficult than the onion skin had been though, much stiffer and ingrained into the innards of the vegetable. Eventually, the cloves within were freed and the robotic fingers plucked out three of them in particular to use for the recipe.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Sat Jul 09, 2016 6:04 pm

    "Well...I taught myself to cook. When M-"

    Aha...

    "It'sss perfectly alright if you sssay hisss name, mate. I won't judge, and you'd honessstly feel a lot better if you did." Ah, but Fear was digressing from the point. Like with Megamind, the helmeted ghoul was a pinch terrible in the kitchen. Well, perhaps more than just a pinch... "Ha ha! If that were me, I'd get one of thossse carrotsss and bloody ram it up hisss - " Beep, beep, beep! Saved by the bell. Distracted, Fear stooped to better see the oven's winking red light, one of his grotesque talons tapping at its domed glass. " - oh, would you look at that? Methinksss the oven isss done... done... er, what'sss it called?" he asked, uncertain. Pre... Pre-something. Damn, all this cooking lingo was ridiculously out of his league. Weren't mortals just happier in the grave, where they would no longer be troubled by life's nagging annoyances?

    True to Minion's words, the light abruptly went off and Fear was back to square one: what now? It was just so awkward standing around like this...

    So the superfiend awkwardly stood around Minion instead, otherworldly eyes watching the fish happily go about his slicing. "Like a fisssh to water, huh?" came a sudden rumble from behind. Fear meant no harm by his observing, though; he was in fact very curious and hoped to learn a thing or two this afternoon. "May I asssk how do you make your ssslicesss ssso fine? Every time I make an attempt, the chunksss come out ssso... messssy."
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Sun Jul 17, 2016 11:28 pm

    "It'sss perfectly alright if you sssay hisss name, mate. I won't judge, and you'd honessstly feel a lot better if you did."

    Amber eyes stayed stubbornly fixated on the vegetables and cutting board, even though the motion of cutting and dicing was a fluid one. A muscle memory. In reality, his eyes stared straight on through the dark marble, past the white tile and ever onward. A name...just a name, and the name of someone that had been so important. It should be easy to say it, it wasn't as if it belonged to a stranger... And yet, in some ways it was. The name held memories, some fond, but some were tied to him. The impostor that had taken on Megamind's name and identity. Roxanne's name came easier, but him... Cutting paused, robotic hands trembling lightly as the fish shoved through the memories. A young blue child resting his hand on a glass hamster ball--Minion's ball. A blue teenager, held stiffly in his arms as they ran from the police, laughing like the growing villain and sidekick they were. This memory shifted to a more recent one, yet the orientation of it was similar. Megamind, now a grown adult and bloodied up in pink. Exiting a car, he carried the man into the hospital and was greeted by Dr. SALLI. Images of the two inventing together, first machines for villainy, and then heroics. Especially those made to battle Prixlezub, from the giant hammer wielding robot to the Hydralicore. Minion focused on these, shoving any mention of 'nannyfish' to the side, ignoring the impostor as he breathed the name out. "M-Megamind..." It came out shaky, not nearly as self-assured as he had wanted. The fish wasn't sure if he did feel better, unable to identify how he felt to finally say it aloud. Numb? His fins wavered in the water, and soon the knife returned to its duty.

    However, one hand froze in the air as he turned his head and gawked at Fear, mouth pulled down as far as it could go! Before he could finish such a, um, colorful sentence, the oven signaled that it was preheated. The fish huffed, rolling his eyes lightly as he returned to dicing. "You're so vulgar. Jamming a carrot up there..." He huffed again, seemingly unwilling to finish Fear's sentence. "Why not his mouth? And why not an apple? Then he'd look like a roasted pig." Plus, it'd be easier to clean up.

    "Done preheating." Minion corrected lightly, his tone and attitude as he did so betraying the fact that he was used to such corrections. It came out automatically, the joke and familiar actions seeming to shake away any lingering numbness. He spoke up again with a brighter tone, almost informative and again with a an experienced feel to it. "That means that the oven temperature inside is going to be perfect for roasting this pan of vegetables!" A brief silence overcame them, the ghoul biding his time by watching Minion work as he finished up with the garlic. The rumble that came from behind made him pause and glance back over a robotic shoulder. "Yes." Perhaps an ironic phrase, but also a highly appropriate one. Diced garlic was pinched between robotic digits, sprinkled across the pan as Fear posited his question. How indeed? Turning around partially, he held up a hand and wriggled the digits in a wave.

    "Well, having these definitely helps! I imagine a normal hand like your's is prone to mistakes, but not on purpose. It's like the difference between cutting paper with scissors and with your own two hands." Hand reaching back for the counter, robotic fingers slid around the handle and held it up for Fear to see, side-stepping so that the ghoul could step forward. "However, the BEST way to cut so firmly is to keep your motions precise and sharp. If you hesitate, that's where the cut isn't as clean. Measuring it in your mind helps too." The other half of the onion was grabbed, the cut end placed flat onto the cutting board. Minion held the knife above it, hovering as his other hand held the onion steady. "To cut this in half, you have to find where the middle of the onion would be." The hovering knife wavered, sweeping from left to right until eventually stopping at the center. Lowering the knife, his fingers tightened slightly before -CHOP!- slicing clean through. He held the knife towards Fear for him to grab, stepping aside as he grinned up at him. "Why don't you practice on one of those pieces? Just use the knife, try to measure it and slice like I did. I'll finish up the pan so we can put it in the oven, and then I'll see how you did."

    Leaving Fear to his practice, Minion flitted over to the other counter, with all of the assorted ingredients and tools. Tablespoon, a half of a teaspoon, and a fourth of a teaspoon, along with the bottle of olive oil and the bottles of paprika, cayenne pepper, black pepper, and finally salt. As he set about to measuring it all out, drizzling the oil over the diced veggies first, he peeked over to his pupil. "How are you doing so far?"
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Mon Aug 08, 2016 5:42 am

    Goodness, there was a lot of pent up frustration in this young trout, yes sir. There were times where Fear stood off in a dark corner and kept his metal trap shut. This, however, was not one of them. "Oi," the fiend piped. "No good will come out of you lingering on the passst, mate. You have to let go. Maybe not forgive or forget, but let go. It'll be better for your sssanity, eh wot?" Hm, perhaps that was a bit... on the nose? Not like the fish had a sniffer, but details. Fear approached the situation from another, more relatable, angle - literally, even! "Okay. It'sss like thisss, sssee," he began, leaning sideways against a counter top beside the alien, one spindly arm propping himself up. A hand rested upon Fear's bony hip as he casually watched Minion go about his cathartic slicing and dicing. "I know what it'sss like to be sssecond fiddle. Honessstly, I do. After a couple of centuriesss following a bossss figure around and never getting a lick of recognition, I can wholeheartedly sssay that I sssomewhat hate hisss gutsss. But you can't get ssstuck on that, becaussse it'll fessster inssside you like a wound. Mhm, like a wound. Bessst to calm your mind and move on." As for being vulgar, well... The helmeted fiend shrugged. "Guilty asss charged," he rasped. "I'm a nasssty ol' bender, what can I sssay?"

    Stuffing someone's butt with a random object made for a much better mental picture than, say, an apple in their mouth. Roast pig or not, it just didn't tickle the superfiend's fancy. To each their own, though.

    "Ah, preheating. You know, it never ceasssesss to amaze me how mortalsss go about their piddly little livesss, inventing thisss and that ssso they can work lessss. Quite captivating, really..." Such ingenuity escaped the ghoul; but, then again, so did a lot of things. Take cutting a measly vegetable, for example. While he wasn't a novice when it came to a dangerous instrument fit to kill a person, slicing an onion with a perfect chop was, well... Well, it was just plain odd.

    Fear grabbed the knife when prompted, holding it as if he were about to stab someone, blade pointed downward. "I don't know..." he muttered, sounding unsure of himself. "Rigour mortisss isss not very kind when cutting thossse bloody plantsss." 'Normal hands', peh... Did these big green grippahs look like normal hands? But a quitter the superfiend was not, and he dutifully tried to replicate Minion's previous actions. Grab a pesky onion, check. Er, was this an onion? Maybe not, but Fear was going to cut it anyway. He pinched it firmly between his monstrous fingers aaaaaand...

    Klak, klak, klak, klak, klak!

    And proceeded to absolutely murder the living daylights out of the poor thing. "Ha ha ha! Die, sssinner produce, die!" Bits and pieces flew everywhere, the superfiend cackling like mad. Lost in the moment, he was. But give him a moment, bless. Fear will descend from his frenzied glee within seconds, thanks to Minion.

    "How are you doing so far?"

    "Huh?" Oh right, the vegetable! He glanced down at the pulpy mess and felt mighty proud. "I don't know about it being chopped, but I made a sssplendid puree, ha ha!" That's... That's what the recipe called for, right? Soups were quite liquefied, so incorporating a puree was only natural!

    Corpse logic, not even once.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Mon Aug 15, 2016 2:02 pm

    Indeed, what good was hanging onto the past like this? The real Megamind had disappeared at some point, ultimately replaced by an impostor that had also disappeared by now. No one had appeared at his door, as the fish alien once irrationally feared. It felt as if the whole world had passed by, leaving the mess with the large headed alien in the dust. But how could Minion move on with his life, without the one person who had been there from the beginning? Without any answers for how the impostor had slithered into their home, where his friend had gone? Where even Miss Ritchi had been taken? Could they be suffering while he sat here making soup? Or worse, had they been dead for years? There was nothing the alien could do, and yet it didn't make it any easier to let go. Keeping his robotic hands busy and his gaze away from the corpse, Minion did not answer him besides a soft noise, like a cross between a groan and a grumble.

    "I know what it'sss like to be sssecond fiddle. Honessstly, I do. After a couple of centuriesss following a bossss figure around and never getting a lick of recognition, I can wholeheartedly sssay that I sssomewhat hate hisss gutsss."

    Body moving in a swift motion, Minion reclaimed eye contact with the metal helm and seemed to stare right through the ocoularea. Well...what do you know? He never would have guessed that he'd have something in common with Fear. "I didn't quite...spend that long with Megamind but I understand." The corpse knew what it was like to be second banana, second fiddle. To plod along behind someone, offer ideas and support, advice that could get ignored, to be waved off as a nannyfish. No matter what the fiend had been through at the hands of his leader, he still found that letting go of the past was best. Fear definitely carried himself in such a way that Minion wouldn't have guessed he had such a history. As he said, not forgetting or forgiving what had happened but...perhaps letting all of that hurt go. Robotic fingers wiggling in the air, he eventually bobbed within his tank. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I...will attempt to move on from my past. Especially since nobody seems to hold it against me." If he was the only one still thinking about such things, why stay that way? Why not move on and continue to build a better life? Feeling much better, his mouth pulled up into a grin that seemed to make every tooth in Minion's mouth stick out all the more. "Nasty is right." He teasingly agreed, though a fishy brow rose ever so slightly. Did Fear call himself a bender?

    "Yes, humans in particular seem to be very good about that. In the years I lived there, it seemed as though technology made significant leaps every year! New ways to cook food, harvest, store food, and of course, the entertainment industry..." Even Megamind had fallen into the same cycles, creating the brain bots to work as little lab assistants. Perhaps not always the best lab assistants either... Shrugging thick metal shoulders, he continued. "I've always preferred working hands on, though I do prefer cooking with an oven rather than, say...a fire pit." Handing off the knife to his gangly pupil, the smile on Minion's scaly lips turned strained and awkward. The fiend held the knife as if he'd walked off the set of a slasher film! And uh...well, it certainly suited the rest of him, that was for sure. "Rigor mortis, right..." Amber eyes took in the large, almost oversized rotten hands. With long thin fingers tipped with sharp talons...yeeeeah his hands weren't exactly typical. "Well! I'm sure as long as you hold it right and press down with the appropriate amount of pressure...you'll do great." What was the worst that could happen?

    Leaving Fear be for the moment, Minion finished up with a few more things on the pan before he slid it into the oven. Oil was drizzled over top of the chopped vegetables followed after with sprinkles from the seasoning. Behind him, he could hear the sound of chopping, the clicks of metal hitting the chopping board. Smiling pleasantly, he measured out every ingredient and took his time. No use rushing, after all. The alien fish only became concerned when his pupil began to cackle as he chopped. Did--did he call the onion a sinner produce?! Pan held firmly between his hands, the robotic body whirled around to face Fear. Stray bits of the vegetable lay splattered about, and the 'sinner produce' no longer resembled an onion. Far from being chopped into tiny cubes, it had simply been...hacked at! It was like the aftermath of a crime scene! No wonder he needed to call for some outside help to make this dish.

    "Yes...that is definitely a puree." Minion spoke, almost hesitant as he opened the door to the oven and slid the pan in. While one hand groped around for a timer, setting it with only a brief glance down to make sure he'd gotten the correct time, it was set to the side while he came forward to inspect Fear's handiwork. "I'd say you definitely don't have any issues with cutting and slicing the vegetables!" A metal fingertip prodded at a corner of the pureed mush. Indeed, he sure could slice clean through the vegetable skin.
    Good thing they hadn't really needed that onion...it was simply for practice. "However, your cutting could use some discipline. Every slice you make must be deliberate and calculated." Before Fear could get discouraged, Minion was quick to follow up with some kind words!

    "I have a better idea of what you are capable of though! And I think I might have something for you to do..." Returning to the spices he had just finished using, he returned the paprika and the pepper to the counter of unused ingredients. Brown sugar, dijon mustard and maple syrup were snagged instead, as well as a small mixing bowl to hold it all. Measuring out each ingredient, he combined them all into the bowl to make for...what was likely a very unappetizing mixture. Sticky brown liquid and chunky off-yellow mustard on top of fine seasoning and the stiffer brown sugar? Yummy. With the bowl in one hand and a whisk in the other, he approached the ghoul and held them both out for him. "I can get the bacon ready, but can you whisk this together? We won't be able to put the bacon in for another twenty minutes, but it won't hurt to get the bacon strips ready." Placing the end of the whisk into the bowl, Minion gave a slow and deliberate stir. "You just have to stir it up until there are no more chunks of seasoning or sugar. Try it slow at first, then you can try going faster. If you stir it too fast early on, all of the ingredients will just go flying right out. Do you have any questions?" Minion gave the ghoul a little smile, feeling right at home teaching him how to cook like this.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Fear on Sun Sep 18, 2016 7:01 pm

    "Thank you for sharing that with me. I...will attempt to move on from my past. Especially since nobody seems to hold it against me."

    CLAP!

    And just like that, from seemingly out of nowhere, Minion found a broad corpse hand resting fondly upon his metal shoulder. "Ha ha! That'sss the ssspirit, mate!" the ghoul laughed, his boisterous guffaws shaking the house. "If there'sss one thing I've learned about thisss place - and I've learned plenty - it'sss that you have the power to forge your own dessstiny. Pretty daunting, yeah?" After all, it wasn't everyday that a person had the ability to shape their own lifestyle with such untold freedom. "Methinksss you ssshouldn't let old memoriesss hold you back, like I sssaid," Fear remarked, scratching his throat with a few grotesque talons. "If you do, doesssn't that mean you're letting them win?" And no one liked that, see. Ah well... Fear was certain that Minion, AKA: Mitchell, had a fighting spirit beneath those glistening scales of his; it just needed a provocative kick or two.

    "Bah, technology... Jussst another excussse for mortalsss to diminisssh the value of hard labour and meaningful ssstruggle," he opined. What was the trouble with getting intimate with one's work as opposed to letting some mindless automaton complete the task? Fear could never understand the mentality - the desire to take shortcuts and debase the simple pleasures of sweat and blood. But, by the same token, technology had proven wonders for creative executions. Ahh, to be young and experience his first swath of purges again...

    For a moment, if ever so brief, Fear eyed the busied Minion with an all-too-familiar gleam, fingers tightening around the knife's handle. Nothing wrong with a side of fish to go with the soup, eh? Just a slice... Just a little one, up at the -

    "I'd say you definitely don't have any issues with cutting and slicing the vegetables! However, your cutting could use some discipline. Every slice you make must be deliberate and calculated."

    "...Huh?" Oh right. Riiiiiiight, they were cooking.

    Disappointed, Fear soothed his murderous urges and found the knife in his hand exchanged for a whisk. "Mmm..." How does one kill with a bloody whisk!? Whatever the answer, the fiend obediently complied with Minion's direction, taking it to heart, and slowly - if not rigidly - got to stirring. Crrsk, crrsk, crrsk. As for any questions, Fear highly doubted that Minion would allow himself to be carved up like a fresh trout. "No quessstionsss," he shook his head, being good. "I am going to whisssk thisss bowl of ssspice like a good lad, mm..."

    Like a good, good lad.

    And one who wasn't going to murder his cooking instructor with psychopathic glee.
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    Re: A Fishy House Call

    Post by Minion on Sun Sep 18, 2016 11:32 pm

    With his metallic body, Fear's hand wasn't necessarily felt. He did hear the -CLAP- though, as well as the boisterous voice of the ghoul seemingly right behind his shoulder. Minion's robotic form stayed still and continued to face his work while his own fishy self rotated within the bowl to better face Fear head on. Pointy teeth jutted from his mouth as he frowned. "I'm so used to helping to forge...someone else's destiny. Escaping from Megamind is...maybe the first time I ever forged my own destiny like that. Making my own path and...getting away from a situation that was just terrible." And oh, it had been very daunting. Especially when he went back to that lair and had to make nice, sticking with the plan. Even though the fish alien had plotted it out with help from Prixlezub, with the demon doing perhaps the hardest part of all, Minion took part to help himself. He faked his death, not for the large demonic car, but for himself. Frightening as it had been...striking out for himself was exciting.

    Old memories could be like piranhas, swarming his mind and threatening to consume him. Even some of the nice memories back in his dimension were tinged by the antics of the doppelganger. If he allowed that charlatan the power, let those memories gobble him up until Minion was a mere husk, it would only mean that he lost. They won and he allowed himself to lose! Just as the ghoul said, giving it the power to rule him even when the perpetrator was gone would do him no good. And if for no other reason than for himself, the fish alien couldn't allow it. "I... You are right." Metal digits curled into his best imitation of a fist. "I won't let them hold me back. They're just...memories, in the end! Right?" Lips curled up in a sloppy grin that took up his whole face.

    Ah, technology. It seems the old corpse was a fan of the old ways, looking down upon those who used technology far too much. The irony of the situation was not lost on the fish, who held up a robotic arm and gave it a wave. "As much as I like working hands on, I couldn't really do it without a bit of technology like this. So I'd say there are some advantages to the advances mortals make!" Considering otherwise, Minion would live a normal fishy life swimming in a stationary tank. Blissfully ignorant of any murderous urges in his pupil, the alien merely smiled pleasantly back at him and waited for any questions. None came, the ghoul rigidly stirring with the whisk and assuring his teacher that he had no queries. Stirring was a simple enough job! "Good! And I'll get the bacon ready, also like a good lad!" Came the chipper reply as he turned his attention back to the counter to read the recipe.

    Baking sheet laid across the counter top, Minion unraveled the box of foil and measured a piece of it. Only once he was certain that he could cover the entire sheet, did he tear a portion off and wrap it around the pan. Folding it over and creasing into the edges of it, he worked hard to perfectly line it up without any creases of tears. Next came the wire rack, set atop it all and waiting for the bacon. Uncooked strips were laid upon the rack, and as he worked he glanced over a shoulder back at Fear. "So, is this a special dinner for you and your partner? Like an Anniversary?"

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