Frenzy & Torch

Chapter 31: Yin and Yang

In another sector of the galaxy on a sunny, tropical world, was a sprawling resort.

The outdoor area was empty, save for a panda that was splayed in a white reclining chair. He'd fallen asleep under the warm glare of the sun and lost his grip on his mango smoothie, which was now a melted puddle on his chest.

A personal aide walked up to him. "My Lord?"

Yin farted, still asleep.

"My Lord, we have disturbing information."

Yin took off his oversized sunglasses and glared at him with his beady eyes. "What?"

"Fat Panda headquarters was destroyed. Mr. Wong is dead."

"Fucker had it coming, honestly. How'd he die?"

"He spontaneously exploded."

"Musta been Kasangar," Yang said as he rose from the chair and pulled up his dragon-pattern swimming trunks. He wiped the mango smoothie remnants from his chest and slurped it from his hand.

Nearby, a trio of squid-headed aristocrats lazily volleyed a giant plasma ball over a shimmering pool. A robot lifeguard blew a whistle at absolutely nothing

The whistle caused a nearby explosion that blew the legs off a random patron, to which they said, "Come the fuck on, man! This is the sixth time this month!"

Yin stretched with a big, gluttonous yawn, baring his yellowed teeth. He barely spared the screaming, legless patron a glance.

"Put some aloe vera on it," Yin called lazily, waving a stubby paw.

The aide cleared his throat. "My Lord, if I may—this is a serious development."

Yin plopped back down onto the reclining chair with a moist squelch. "Serious?" He grabbed a fresh smoothie from a passing hover-drone without asking. "Serious is when they run out of these bad boys. HQ? Eh." He slurped loudly, bubbles popping at the surface. "That's why I built five backups."

"Yes, but—this was the main headquarters. The symbol of our corporate empire. The media is already circulating footage. The stock price fell ninety points before the board pulled the plug on public trading."

Yin blinked. Then he pulled his sunglasses back down and lay back again. "They'll bounce back. They always bounce back. Fear sells, remember?"

The aide shifted uncomfortably, tapping at a holographic tablet. "There's more. Surveillance shows a few... unusual individuals at the scene before the explosion. One of them—" He hesitated. "—matched her profile."

Yin sat up slowly, his gut jiggling under the dragon trunks. His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough to reveal a brief, ugly flash of panic.
"Her?"
The smoothie cup cracked slightly under his tightening grip.

The aide nodded grimly. "The magic one. The Gladexian."

Yin swore under his breath in a language so ancient it sounded like a wet tire popping. He hurled the half-finished smoothie into a nearby recycling chute, missing by several feet. It shattered against a statue of himself, coating the marble panda in sticky tropical goo.

"Well, shit on my tits," Yin muttered. "The bitch finally crawled out of her hole."

The aide wisely said nothing.

Yin scratched his stomach thoughtfully, his claws dragging lazy pink lines across the fur. "If Annabelle Marigni's involved, that explains a lot." He leaned back in his chair and folded his stubby arms behind his head. "Means the galaxy's finally gettin' interesting again."