ACT 1.1
“Twenty-five munny is your change, ma’am,” said Mercutio. Mercutio found himself accompanying Sebrea behind the Goods Shop counter at register while Bantuk compelled Scotty and Rose to stocking the shelves, and taking inventory respectively.
He offered a congenial smile to the last customer of the drove, “Thank you for shopping at the Traverse Town Goods and Item Shop.”
Mercutio and Sebrea beheld the client's departure, and both let out a heavy sigh of relief. Mercutio addressed his counter mate with a refurbished enlightenment, “You and Rose weren’t kidding…Wow. It’s like literal bursts of customers, then silence.”
Sebrea obtained a small smirk in responding, “Mm hmm. Maybe now, you won’t tease Rose about not doing her job.”
Bantuk protruded whilst approaching Mercutio at the counter, “Well, she doe’n’t do ‘er job! All she does, run ‘er mealy-mouth!”
Rose furnished a forlorn sigh.
Bantuk progressed, “An’ thank ye for manning tha register; ‘twas a kind gesture.”
Mercutio alleged, “I was
no problem. I had no clue you all were
this busy!”
“Well, the
travel system sees us workin’ like dogs,” of which Bantuk glared at a meek-faced Scotty, and grimaced in correcting, “apart from Scotty; he be just as dead dog, the way he lies about,” screaming at Scotty afterwards, “AIN’T IT RIGHT BOY?!”
To which Scotty replied with a simple, “Yes sir…”
“Well, if you’re having trouble maintaining, then perhaps
I might even think about setting up shop in Traverse Town and taking some prospects off your hand,” considered the young man in black.
“I’ll be sure ta tell Wervin, next time he be in town. Then
he’ll be right along side ya, testin’ those
same prospects.”
To which Mercutio brushed while contending a grin, “Cut me some slack, okay?”
Bantuk shifted subjects, “Wervin came ‘round ‘bout a couple weeks ‘go. He said you ‘ave fount tha spare time ta take some synthesis classes.”
“Synthesis?” Sebrea contested with firm interest, and then expressed a genuine joy in her voice, “That’s amazing! Excuse me…”
Rose blankly witnessed as Sebrea ducked under the counter and burrowed into her tote bag; she addressed, joining everyone at the counter, “Sheesh, it’s only Synth class…” and then when back to her subtle prodding of Mercutio, “Yeah, I remember Wervin mentioning that! I actually forgot to ask about that since I can never quite see you being productive.”
Not amused, Mercutio replied with raised brows, undercutting eyes, and a smirk, “Well, that makes two of us.”
“You mean you don’t see me as being productive?” Rose playfully contested.
“I meant two of us that don’t see
me as being productive, but I like your answer better.”
Sebrea returned from her weighty bag with a conspicuous slab of metal. She presented to a slightly bewildered Mercutio with a soft smile.
Mercuito forced a responsive smile while wincing mental,
I really hope she doesn’t think I can tell her what that is…
She explained, “I was told that the owner of the workshop was on vacation—"
“Needed one, since people wouldn’t stop messing with his pomp-pomp…” Scotty added, inching his way towards the counter, “Nearly snapped…”
“Back ta work,” Bantuk bellowed, flashing the back of his hand. Scotty leaped back and fell flat. Everyone winced aside from Bantuk.
“Poor Scotty,” Sebrea consoled and continued, offering up the shard, “Anyways, I think that it is amazing that you take Synthesis courses, and was hoping that maybe you’d be willing to tell me where I could find more of this.”
Well, sh*t, ‘twouldn’t hurt to stare at it blankly for a few seconds…
Mercutio accepted the shard and examined it for several seconds. He mustered a mock hum of thought before Bantuk disclosed, “Ye dunno what it is, eh boy?”
Mercuito winced and plaintively handed Sebrea back her shard. He chuckled nervously and replied, “Gimme a break. It was only Synth 101,” eventually redirecting his address to Sebrea, “most of class was done in labs with equipment and goggles and such. We barely made Ethers this class. Our final exam was making an Elixir. Easy A…but unfortunately, that one course doesn’t even come close to qualifying me as an ‘expert of the field’.”
“Oh,” Sebrea’s smile drooped slightly, along with her head.
“Dude, I’m sorry—”
“No, that’s ok,” she quickly rebounded and attained a sappy grin, as not to upset the poor sap, “Thank you anyway. Who knows, maybe one day, with all your courses, you may even become a scientist.”
Mercutio quickly noted Sebrea’s attempt to yet again appease him, and chuckled slightly.
“Hey you,” Rose addressed Mercutio, glancing down at the clock on her cell.
Bantuk scolded, “Wud I tell you bout that damn it cell phone Mealy Mouth?”
Still fiddling with her phone, Rose snickered mockingly, “Geez, I forgot. ‘‘Wud you tole me bout that damn it phone’ Bantuk?”
The room chuckled a bit while Bantuk sneered.
Rose closed her phone, “Relax. I was checking the time for Mercutio…It’s fifteen, fifty.”
“Dah. 3:50?” Mercuito yelped, as he reconfirmed using his cell phone. He bid farewell to the shop crew; Scotty wished him luck with “finding an answer key to the helplessness test”. Mercuito wished Sebrea luck with her shard while Sebrea wished him luck with his sales, assuring victory against his uncle. This assurance was crashed soundly by Rose who reminded Mercutio that he has yet to sell more than Wervin, but she told him to “try all the same”. Bantuk wished a speedy repair on Mercutio’s Sable Sleek and shooed the young lad out the door. Making his hasty retreat of Traverse Town, Mercutio settled outside of the town by the creaking doors. He leaned against the wall and allowed the noise to drain through him. He let his head drop and his eyes rest behind his shades.
“Hi ho, young one!”
The lad was roused from his state by a booming and robust greeting; his cell phone read 4:04 PM. He turned to note the burly figure approaching; muscle-bound and draped by a grayish toga, the man bore a coarse appearance, from his knobby bare knees, down to his cloud-puffy beard which surrounded his beaming smile. A laurel wreath adorned his balding head.
Mercutio subtly stretched the kinks from his neck and shoulders, and acknowledged, “Theseus.”
“That’s a dangerous practice,” Theseus chided with poise, his left hand rummaging through a small brown pouch attached to his side, “you’d figure to awake with your wares sacked;” the brawly brawn retrieved nine hundred munny in bills.
Mercutio chuckled plainly in response, “I’ve had worse to worry about…”
The young man reached into the stealthy insides of his coat, and retrieved a blue, metallic, handheld case.
Mercutio casually asked, “So, I take it you’ve already quailed for the preliminaries;” and handed Theseus the case.
Theseus fiddled with the smooth metal case, his fingers admiringly its cool exterior. He responded boisterously, “Of course; albeit, the qualifying tests were a bit more challenging this year than they have been;” Theseus flipped the top of the case, revealing four small vials. He smirked slightly and spoke in a low raspy tone, “you threw in an Ether.’
“Consider it complimentary,” Mercutio winked; “I made it in Synth class. I figured you’d need it, with what happened last year. You really ought to use your Elixirs more sparingly.”
The large man bawled aloud, and addressed, “So, you’re giving me
advice now on how to fight my battles?” The large man pondered for a brief moment, scratching the spot of his head which his hair crested off into baldness.
“Tell me something;” Theseus proposed, ““you seem to know a lot about potions and healing. Did you ever consider
signing up for a tournament, or will you forever be in the lobby, selling Ethers and Hi-Potions?”
“Well…” Mercuito allowed a subtle smirk, “wouldn’t you like to know…”
“I would actually,” Theseus countered with an able grin; “I could use someone like you on my side to watch my back in the heat of battle. You know, this year the bar’s supposedly going to be raised.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? The Thebes Coliseum was renovated by the son of Zeus himself. There’s going to be a great commemoration: The first annual Olympus Games in Thebes with Hercules as its Undisputed Champion.
“Oh really?”
“This year’s slogan: Thanks to one sky, we can bring a slice of Olympus closer to home. The goat man was handing out flyers.”
“Well, hell yeah I’ll be there. I’m sure I could sell a bundle.”
“Oh come now. You’re telling me that you’re not even considering entering the fray?’
Mercutio sighed at the thought of his bit with his uncle, “Well, I’m kinda in a bind to sell as much stock as possible.”
“Well, I’d hope you’d reconsider. I’m anxious to contest the young competition!” Theseus broadened his chest in stating, “I’m willing to attest against the mighty Hercules even.”
An admiring smirk slowly brushed across Mercutio’s face, which began to express a nigh-childlike zeal.
Theseus noted and added, “Yeah…I’m excited to see Hercules as well. I’m sure many will show face to witness the spectacle,” and then snapped his fingers in recollection, “Hey, this maybe the perfect opportunity for you to ask around about that ‘key’ business once more.”
Mercutio acknowledged and corrected, “It’s a
Keyblade; that’s the name I got from a regular customer of mine; Blacksmith is her name?”
“Well, it seems that you’re on the right track young one. God-speed! At least now, you know what its name is. It should be easier to make queries.”
At that moment Mercutio noted the time: 4:11 PM.
Theseus bid, grabbing hands with the young man and then taking off, “I must take leave young Mercutio. The
Charter shall arrive at any moment; still, I intent to put these items to good use. Good luck on your search for answers my friend.”
“Take care Theseus,” Mercutio bid, and then slyly smirked, “and I’ll see you in the Preliminaries.”
Theseus turned back and addressed, “Oh
really?”
The young man corrected, “Better yet…the Finals.”
The Thebes veteran chuckled heartily as he parted for the
Charter stop, Mercutio waving him off. A solemn minute passed before the
Charter made its imminent arrival. Mercutio glared spaciously into the out-goers of the passenger ship until his sight eventually locked onto a young lady with snow-blue hair, huddled within a cerulean jacket.
Hmm…Dirty khakis…Messy hair…Bus leech, no doubt…Cute though, he thought; he sought to conserved energy by thinking to himself using a few-syllable at a time. Mercutio sunk into a state of nostalgic sedation once again, but was rattled out of it a few seconds later.
“My wallet! Somebody’s taken my wallet!!”
Mercutio winced, “Eh?! Another victim…Priceless…”