ANNUAL LEAVE - PART III

“Hey buddy,” yeah, standing up to a guy with a gun is basically never a good idea, “you know what you got there?”

Not unless you’re armed yourself and ready to use it, or have some kind of impervious armour on, but I got neither.

I am entirely being fuelled right now by the love of a good woman, and my own need to not look lame in front of her. Should probably see about therapy sometime honestly.

The gunman swings the nose of his pistol toward me, shakily keeping me in his sights.

“Of course I do! You think I’m stupid? Everyone always thinks I’m stupid! Well, I’ll show you... I’ll show you all!”

OK, he’s cracked. Trying to diffuse the situation only made things worse, so what can I do? Use force?!.

He twitches, scans the room of gawking patrons, then stalks toward me. There are several other guests and waitresses between us, but I’ve singled myself out by engaging him, for better or worse.

“Is that him?”

“Must be!”

“The magicn’t?”

“Yeah, it happens sometimes...”

“He applied for a job here, y’know?”

“Who, that freak? Eww!”

Chatter from every corner reaches me before he does.

Everyone is aware of this guy.

I feel something in my gut... anxiety?

“You think you’re some kind of hero? That you can look down on me like they do?” He has some sense, even in his crazed state, and keeps himself a few feet from me, so I can’t try to tackle him or take the gun away, “They don’t know what this is, but I do. Not all men are born equal, but these sure as hell level the playing field!”

It’s not quite the saying I remember, but it’s the same sentiment for sure.

Is he from Earth?!.

Maybe a different time or place, most likely a different dimension, but I might be able to forge some common ground.

“That’s a quote by the guy who made one of the first revolvers, right?” I’d have my fingers crossed behind my back if I wasn’t articulating with them in front of me to show I’m not armed, “What was his name again?”

There’s a flash of recognition in the gunman’s face. “Guy? You mean Samantha Filly?”

Gender swapped! Bloody close!

“Right! That’s the one, I’ve got Sams all over my family named after her, boys and girls, so I always get mixed up...” If nothing else, I know how to keep talking and blag my way through things, “...what year are you from?”

“Year?” the gun wavers in his hand a little as he’s forced to process what I’m implying.

I nod and roll my eyes around the room to indicate we have to keep it quiet from the locals.

His voice has been raised this entire time but it starts to come down as the cogs turn in his head. A dash of hope enters his face, “1999?”

Bingo!

“Oh dude! I’m a few years ahead of you! You got a GameStation or M64?” A little too early even for me, but my parents have an obscene number of old consoles, so something has to connect with him.

“What?!. I, uh...” the more he falters the more I can see options for resolving things peacefully, “...DreamCatcher.”

Oh, forget it... He’s cooked!

“Nice!” I gotta give him at least a little encouragement, “So, hey... how’d you end up here?”

He’s pre the general proliferation of isekai as a genre, so he’d probably only be aware of Alice In Wonderland as the OG, if that. He looks anywhere between his mid 20’s to mid 30’s, older than me by whatever amount.

The gunman sighs then signals toward a booth by the door so he can keep an eye on everyone while we talk.

As he turns round – I hadn’t even noticed her sneaking around the periphery – Meganie is there with a parfait.

She looks as innocent as a child, even in the slightly loose fitting cocktail dress I’d made for her in the atomic constructor. Black, almost satin, with a silver chain around her neck, and just enough of a low cut back to... ahem~

Spoon in mouth, she stares at the guy with owl wide eyes, but not a jot of fear.

He gawps at her, his back turned to me, but I can tell by his posture there’s more confusion than the agitation he might have shown earlier.

She takes another scoop from the tall glass – it’s someone else’s parfait, because we hadn’t gotten onto dessert yet – and offers it to the gunman.

What on Earth is she doing?!.

Uncertain whether to accept the indirect kiss – lucky bastard – or stick his gun in her face – not a euphemism – he looks back over his should at me, like I have answers.

Smash.

Thud.

Clatter.

While I’m shrugging at the poor guy, Meganie clocks him over the back of the head.

Parfait and chunks of glass everywhere.

90’s man drops like a sack of potatoes, and the handgun slides across the floor, coming to rest by my feet.

There’s no applause like in the movies. Everyone goes back to their meals, to serving and cooking, except for the maître d’ who trots over. Waving me down ever so demurely with a serving cloth over his arm, “Thank you for your assistance officers. That man is a menace.”

I’m fine being mistaken for Police, it makes getting us all out of here far easier, but I’m curious about the guy’s background.

“What can you tell me about this individual?” I put on airs of overt seriousness and professionalism, just how you’d expect a cop to take witness statements.

The head waiter nods at me, then points at the mess on the floor, indicating to his underlings that it should be cleaned up before someone slips on dessert or cuts themselves on broken glass, “He appeared in town one day a few years ago, tried to get work, but without magical affinity there’s not much one can do.”

That makes sense, as sad as it is.

In a world where there’s no tech, you’ve gotta know how to magic for even basic objects to work.

“He started turning up with stolen wands and other items to try mugging people, but everyone knows protection spells, so it never caused an issue.” the lean man’s pencil moustache curling with snooty mocking contempt, “That thing he had, ‘a goon’ you say, that seemed frightfully dangerous. Even neutralised our entry seal.”

That explains everything.

Transported to another world, unable to fit in, destined to get nowhere, until a weapon the natives have no counter for appears.

The timeline would have been completely messed up as he learned to make ammunition from ingredients readily available at potion shops, becoming evil dictator for life. Taking out all his frustrations from years of alienation as revenge.

“I’m just glad my partner and I were here off-duty.” I nod to Meganie and she hops over the unconscious man, still holding the last bit of parfait, which seems unwilling to melt. Magic no doubt.

She proffers the spoon to me, expectance in her expression, eager like a child.

I accept the offering as she bursts into a grin. As unprofessional a display as this might all be, I’m glad to be the one to share her spoon.

“We’ll settle the bill now and take him in, rather than disturb everyone’s night any longer.” The front of house straightens up, as if his posture could be any straighter, and clears a way for us.

“Your evening is on the house for finally arresting this hooligan.” He walks a little ahead as I hoist the gunman up and while Meganie collects our things.

She tosses the handgun in her case of containing and trots after me, “Evidence collected!” Smiling all the while.

Similar comments to those that heralded his arrival, chorus from those within the restaurant again as we leave. Echoes of derision past.

My thoughts linger on how living with that kind of ostracism for years in another world is enough to drive anyone to crime.

Like I haven't been tempted to go AWOL myself... if my professionalism would let me~

A self fulfilling cycle of being treated like trash until actually becoming trash. Not that an explanation for something happening excuses it from happening, or the person from responsibility for it.

Moral philosophising aside, with an unexpected third wheel, our plans have to drastically change... AGAIN!!!

What was meant to be a nice long weekend away, a bit of self indulgence and pampering, has to be cut short for the sake of getting this guy back to the Returns Agency for processing. Just like the corporate retreat, I’ll miss out on Meganie in more cute outfits.

While I’m mulling over the particulars, my partner is still buzzing with excitement beside me, “I did good didn’t I?” She frames it as a question but she means it rhetorically.

She’s learning.

The mousy recluse knowing full well she did exceptionally well in the face of danger – not even needing to rely on gadgets, just distraction and manoeuvring – is angling for some praise. Her almost cheeky grin too enticing to deny.

“You did amazing, Anie!” I smile back, but it fades knowing we have to get back to work so soon, “Pity we have to go sort this guy out instead of...” I trail off at what I really wanna do to reward her.

Meganie elates and deflates in rapid succession.

“Wait,” then settles at a semi-inflated ego, “no we don’t?!.”

I stop – poor isekai victim hanging under my armpit, drooling in his forced sleep – and look at my colleague questioningly.

“We put him in a holding cell, come back here a second later to finish the ‘mission’, then go back through to do all the admin a second after that.” she maintains my gaze to make sure her logic isn’t flawed and I can’t see any issue with it.

“I forget you’re a genius as well as-” I cut off the sentence before I say too much, “...we can just fudge the report if anyone asks. He was an unrelated isekai-ing we stumbled upon begging in the street, or we needed to go back to smooth things over with the locals, or that we still haven’t located the gun-”

“You were going to say something else.” my ever perceptive co-conspirator does not let me off the hook that easily.

I can’t help a moment of bashfulness, but manage to cover for myself quickly, “Well, y’know... with how clumsy you can be!” Meganie doesn’t buy it for a second, a lame attempt under pressure, seen right through.

“You’re going to have to do better than that...” her grin returning, a little shy, a lottle hopeful, “...if you still want to share a room.”

“You’re cute.” Not entirely satisfied, but placated for now, Meganie settles into step beside me, “When you’re not being a brat.”

She clocks my mumbled after-comment and I receive a needling right in seam between my lowest ribs.

I really have created a monster.