Jester and Velmoro wandered the dirty streets, the stench of mud, smoke, and sewage filling their noses. Rats darted between trash heaps, and the sound of distant carriages echoed through the slums.
Jester's stomach growled loudly.
"Ugh, I'm starving," he muttered.
Velmoro raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't you eat… yesterday?"
"Exactly. That was yesterday. I'm smelling good meat soup. Noodles. Warm. Rich. Calling my name."
Without waiting, Jester followed the scent like a hound until it led him to a shabby, run-down noodle shop. An old woman was stirring a pot, steam rising into the air.
Jester plopped into a chair and shouted,
"Hey, lady! Food. Now."
Velmoro stood at the entrance, arms crossed.
"You're unbelievable…"
The woman hesitated but served him a bowl. Jester devoured it like a beast, not even pausing to breathe.
Just then, five thugs entered the shop, passing through Velmoro's ghostly form as if he weren't there.
"Money," one of them grunted.
The woman bowed her head.
"I... I don't have any. Business has been slow."
One thug grabbed her wrist with a smirk.
"Then pay with your body. Each of us gets three turns."
Before he could finish, the woman kneed him straight in the groin.
The thug screamed and dropped to the floor, clutching himself.
Jester spat out noodles from laughing.
"Bwahaha! That was beautiful! You hear that crack? Bro, you're officially retired from fatherhood.
You'll die alone, a ball-less wonder!"
Velmoro sighed.
"Can we not cause a scene for once…?"
But it was too late.
The thugs turned to Jester, furious.
"You little bastard, you're next!"
One lunged, but Jester flipped over the table, hot soup splashing into the man's eyes. He shrieked.
"That's one egg down," Jester cackled, kicking him in the crotch.
"Three to go!"
Velmoro winced.
"You really like going for the eggs."
"I'm an artist," Jester said proudly.
Another thug charged. Jester leapt, spun mid-air, and slammed the man headfirst into the ground.
Then, with a boot to the crotch—crack.
"Two eggless gangsters. I'm building a collection."
Velmoro rubbed his temples.
"Why do I travel with you…"
The gang leader pulled out a knife.
"How about you work for me? I like your style."
Jester grinned.
"Only if I get to kick your eggs first."
"What?!"
"Why?
Because I want to make your gang eggless.
And name you all The Eggless Gangsters.
Hurry, because I want to finish my masterpiece."
The thug threw chairs at him. Jester ducked, slid between his legs, tripped him, and stomped his head into the ground. Blood poured.
Then came the final kick, landing right in the groin. The man passed out with a groan.
Velmoro, standing in the corner, muttered,
"This is why people think we're insane…"
Jester calmly took out a small knife and began carving a smiley face into each thug's cheek.
Then, with a grin, he took their money.
He turned to the terrified woman.
"Almost done. Just need some... accessories."
He made her bring a plastic bag and some rags. Then he cut the crotch of each thug and placed their... "treasures" inside the bag. He wrapped their wounds with cloth after drawing some blood into a tube.
Velmoro didn't speak. He just stared at the ceiling, numb.
"You want help carrying the bag?" he finally asked, dryly.
"No, no, let me savor this."
Jester dragged the unconscious bodies into a nearby alley and hid in the shadows.
When one woke up, then another, they all saw the bloody bag.
They fainted… and never woke again.
Jester whispered,
"Hahahaha… that look. Priceless."
Jester stretched, stepping over the unconscious thugs like he was leaving a picnic.
"All right, I've had enough fun for one day. Time to head to church."
Velmoro glanced at the blood splatters on the ground, then at Jester.
"We'll draw attention dressed like this."
Jester smirked.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's find someone selling clothes. I'm not trying to get chased for fashion crimes."
They wandered into a narrow alley where a crooked tarp covered a humble stall.
Cloaks, coats, and odd robes swayed in the breeze.
Behind them sat a hunched old man with crooked teeth and a permanent scowl.
Jester walked up and grabbed a long black coat, examining it with mock elegance.
"Hmm... Dark. Dramatic. Brooding. I love it. How much?"
The man grunted.
"Five coins."
Jester patted his pocket and pulled out four coins, all stained with dried blood.
"I've got four. And technically, they're not even mine. Generous donation from the unconscious idiots back there."
He turned and waved toward the alley where the thugs still lay in a heap.
"They invested in my fashion dreams. Tragic, really."
The merchant blinked slowly, then glared.
"Then you don't have a coat."
Velmoro stepped forward, silent as a shadow. His presence alone made the merchant's scowl falter.
The old man avoided his gaze.
"...Four's fine."
Jester chuckled as he flipped the coins onto the table.
"See? Told you we're charming."
He slipped on the coat with a theatrical twirl.
"What do you think? Do I look like a mysterious rogue or just a very well-dressed maniac?"
Velmoro answered flatly,
"Both."
Jester grinned wide.
"Perfect."
Velmoro said, "Let's go."
Jester leaned close to the thugs as they passed by, his voice playful.
"Thanks for the pocket money, gentlemen. I'd say 'get well soon'..."
He laughed loudly and unhingedly as he and Velmoro disappeared down the misty road.
They walked until they stood in front of the church.
The building loomed above them, quiet... watching.
Velmoro hovered in silence, his gaze fixed on the looming church.
"Get ready. We're walking into a nest."
Jester grinned, eyes gleaming.
"Round two."