Angry Jasper: Forty-one

“Somebody is gonna pay for this,” Jazz, doused in that awful gruel, shivered hard and nearly heaved.

His mood continued to turn, until it stunk worse than a carcass in the sun, and almost as bad as the filth he’d just eaten. A part of Jasper reveled in being a sour cuss. He half wanted to see just how low his mood could go until he just turned himself inside out and disappeared from the friggin’ world. To hell with Katy, he thought. What did he need of some space trollip, an interplanetary slag, a gin guzzling Ionian skank? The solar system was full of easy women. They were a credit a dozen. Hell, the simple fact that she was the best lay he'd ever had just meant that Jazz had not had enough women yet. The fact that he loved her—well, he would just have to get over that schoolboy crap.

The thought led him down a long lonely road towards the end of his life(which didn’t seem so far off at that moment). With a long, low groan he sagged against the pole and wished it was all over now. But that just wasn’t like Jazz. It wasn’t like him to quit anything. That he was about to quit on the only person who ever meant anything to him, no matter how much she stomped on his heart, well that was just unacceptable.

It suddenly struck him that the coup against Thomas would take place at the wedding. If they stood any chance at all of succeeding it would have to take place where they could capitalize off the confusion that was sure to follow. They would have to strike hard and fast, and with lethal determination. That meant anyone anywhere near Thomas would be toast. Kate was in trouble, and Jazz doubted she had any idea the size of the turd storm coming her way.

“Screw that!” he exclaimed.

Jazz rallied himself once more and rose to his feet. He yanked hard once and then a second time, ignoring the pain and fatigue in his shoulders. It was probably the stupidest thing he could have done. Something big came loose from the ceiling above him. Jazz caught sight of it at the last instand and swung around the pole as a huge chunk of concrete and stone crashed to the floor where he had been standing. At that moment the door opened and Skullboy entered as casually as if he was coming home from school.

“I'd like to speak with a manager,” Jazz managed a quip. “This place is dangerous, and the food sucks!” The guard frowned stoically, already pulling the door closed again. Skullboy walked up to Jazz with a fresh plate of gruel. He held it close to Jazz’s face. It smelled even worse than the previous batch.

“Get’s better with age,” Jazz winced.

“Eat it!” said Skullboy.

“Eat it yourself.”

“Eat it.” The boy shook the plate a little, spilling some on Jazz’s boot. He was just about to bitch when he saw the key hidden within.

The kid seemed to delight watching Jazz fish for the key with his face. When he had it Jazz managed to turn the key round using his lips and tongue with surprising dexterity (Katy didn’t love Jazz for his money). With that he pushed it into the lock. His heart leapt when the shackles sprung open. Jazz pulled them off and almost thought he could hug the kid, no matter how ugly he was. Almost.

“Wait a minute,” something suddenly occurred to Jazz. “Why didn’t you just unlock the shackles, instead of making me wrastle around in that crap?”

“More fun that way.”

“Remind me to smack you later,” Jazz replied. “For now let’s figure a way out of here.”