“Re-Sprite” Part 3

For the next two weeks, life around the burrow was routine. Rolf would Get up, eat, do what chores he could, meet the Orc healer in the tool shed. He’d yell and bitch as she removed the cast, made another stinky mixture of ointment and rubbed it on his tender arm, then wait for her to mutter something in Orcish, touch Hanna’s swelling belly, talk nice to her and Signe, then hand him a batch of sticks and moldy smelling powder that Hanna would turn into ‘healing’ tea. He wasn’t sure what he had done to the Orc healer in a past life, and her face was unreadable behind the cloth facial veil she wore, but she had to be trying to poison him with that swill.

He’d spend the afternoons helping Hanna in her garden or watching Signe and Runt play. He even invented a scoring and reward system for their chase and snatch game, as well as some harder acrobatics. They took to the new games with zeal, their bond well established. Rolf made sure Runt understood who his new packmates were and that the O.G. gnome was the Alpha. And Runt’s first priority was to protect Signe and Hanna.

During his convalescent down time, Rolf watched the hunter teams come and go. More went than returned. Something big was brewing. He hadn’t seen the Boss in the last week and most of the team leaders were scarce. There were only the recruits and some instructors moving about the Compound. It was quiet.

Another week passed since Dr. Forrester’s visit. Rolf was staring at his newly shortened cast. It covered only his wrist. He was trying to figure out how to run a wire inside to reach an itch that was driving him nuts. His upper arm was tender but had been declared healed. His ribs would twinge if he pushed it, but he was breathing normally and could twist with almost his full regular motion. The Orc healer had been impressed with his progress and seemed pleased with herself that her concoctions had been so effective. Signe and Runt were escorting the healer back to her hut. Part of their new routine. The young gnome was taking longer and longer to return. She’d come back worn out, but happy. Runt always looked rested. Rolf couldn’t gripe, though, because she seemed to be staying on top of her chores and was in a better mood. The red-bearded giant hadn’t been to his door that entire time.

The smart phone on the wall rang. Rolf hopped up and walked briskly to the device. The ring wasn’t the one indicating an incoming voice call. It was the video link app. He tapped the icon representing a camera and Dr. Forrester’s face filled the screen.

“Hello Rolf.”

“Yo Doc, what’s the ‘sitch?”

“You look much better. And with a smaller cast. That’s good. Can we talk?”

“Sure, I’m hangin’ in the main room. Any word the girls can’t hear?”

“No,” the Doctor, replied after pausing to think about what she would say. “We have need of those services we discussed. Your skillset and experience will be an asset.”

“Well, I’ve been poppin’ small tunnels, but nothing of worth. Maybe twenty feet. And they aren’t even full size. Crawl space only.”

“That’s good to know but shouldn’t be a factor. Agent Barnes is with me and he’ll brief you,”

Rolf frowned, but quickly smiled as Barnes’s face appeared in a conference box.

“G-Raff,” he said nodding slightly. Rolf nodded back.

“Let’s get to it,” Barnes said, in his professional agent voice. “Ever hear of something called Cosplay?”

“The guy that played a doc on TV and then got busted for—.”

“No, that’s Cosby,” Barnes said, with irritation. Taking a breath and talking slowly, he continued, “Cosplay. People dress up as their favorite characters from tv, comic books and the like.”

“Peeps be weird,” Rolf observed, running his hand over his close-cut hair. “They put pictures to they’z websites or somethin’?”

“And go to conventions to meet the stars of shows, authors that wrote the books, buy swag and see movie trailers before they’re released.”

“What’s that got ta do with this call?” Rolf asked.

“Well, in the name of authenticity, some of them get a little too into it,”” Barnes replied, his voice taking on an instructive tempo.  “It can get dark. Real grimoires, enchanted swords, actual soul stones. Sometimes these nice folks fall in with real vampires and even acquire some Fey artifacts. The low-level stuff we don’t care about. We have people at those events, as well, to remove and replace those items. When they get a hold of something big, that’s where we get actively involved.”

“Are they rich or something? How they’z get the potent stuff?”

“Usually, it’s sold to them as a bargain by some powerful baddie who’s hoping that they cause a lot of mayhem or activate it and become the first meal of whatever gets summoned. Sometimes they’re the Guinea pig to see if it just blows up the user.”

“That is messed up, yo. Bad juju.”

“That’s really bad,” Barnes clarified. “Look at this.”

Barnes reached forward, and another video box opened on Rolf’s screen. Inside it was a hand-axe with an obsidian head and leather wrapped wooden handle. Not ornate, but vicious looking.

“How big is that?” Rolf asked, touching the screen with both hands and spreading them to enlarge the picture.

“About as tall as you. Ever hear of Paul Bunyan?”

“The lumberjack guy with the blue ox? Yeah, old west folklore. Something about a bunch of trees and he was a giant.”

“Partially correct. He was tall, but not a giant. He did chop down a bunch of trees. Trying to kill an evil tree spirit that was wiping out settlers and native tribes, moving with the seasons. Had a tribal Shaman put the heart of Jukutase, an earth spirit, into the stone head of an axe. Could take down a redwood in two strokes. Or chop a demon in half in one. We’re pretty sure that’s this axe.”

“And some kid has that?”

“We think so. We’re not sure who gave it to him. Or her. But this artifact disappeared from an indigenous people exhibit in South Dakota about a year ago. We’d just tagged it for acquisition when it up and disappeared.”

“You gotz a fuckin’ leak, my man,” Rolf said before he could contain himself. “Somebody is snitchin’ your biz all over.”

“We don’t know that anyone is—”

“Barnes, you stood on some airplane steps and watched me take a hit,” Rolf said.

“I didn’t know…my mission was to—,” he stuttered back.

“Dude, if I thought you was behind it, you’da died in yo sleep already. I’m jus’ sayin’ there is a big-ass leak in the bureau that be selling buzz to bad people and ya better get yo house straight before mo’ peeps get whacked.”

“Let’s get back on subject,” Dr. Forrester said, nodding in acknowledgement to Rolf as she made a writing motion with her arm.

“Mission Parameter One is to place you as an observer at the upcoming convention with a support team,” Barnes said, back to his instructive voice. “Sneak around, help us look for the axe. Oh, and you’re not the only one looking for it. We now believe the gremlins are involved, either to acquire or to provide a distraction for the people that want the axe. Parameter Two: let us know if you spot any tell-tale signs of gremlin activity. Or you sense any gnomes in the area. If you do, you alert us.”

“Axe. Gremlins. Gnomes. Got it,” Rolf replied.

Hanna walked in and looked at the screen. Seeing the Doctor and Agent Barnes, she did the math and cocked an eye toward Rolf.

“Rolf, you’re not well enough to travel and do anything strenuous. You can’t even make a decent tunnel. And I’m getting bigger by the day.” Hanna said, rubbing her belly and turning to Dr. Forrester’s image. “You are a kind lady. Why do you have to take my Rolf? Is there nobody else?”

“It’s his choice. This is strictly voluntary, Hanna,” Dr. Forrester said, her voice soothing. “But he can really help us. Maybe save some lives. We both know he’s good at that. And you look beautiful, by the way.”

Hanna blushed slightly. “Thank-you,” she said, then a look of dread and concern returned to her face. “Rolf?”

“Hanna, my sweet-thang,” Rolf smiled, taking her hands in his and looking her in the eyes. “G-Raff is going stir crazy jus’ sittin’ here. I’ll stay out of trouble. Any baddie even looks my way, I’ma run and pop away as fast as I can. Not even kiddin’. I’ll have Fuzzy with me and Agent Barnes is gonna keep me nice and safe, right Barnes?”

“Yes, he will,” Forrester said firmly, before Barnes could reply. Barnes nodded.

Hanna’s lips tightened, she sighed, and then reluctantly nodded her head. ”Who would I be if I stopped my O.G. from showing how much his ass is bad?”

“Er…, Honey? It’s how much a bad-ass he is,” Rolf corrected with a smile. “Where is this party goin’ down?”

“Mobile, right up the road. Medium sized convention. You’ll be less than two hours away by car.”

*****

G-Raff was in the upper level of the Mobile Civic Center Arena. The facility was being overrun by wild creatures of every size and design, fueled by Red bull and fancy iced-coffee drinks. The annual Rebels of SciFi Comic Con was in full swing. The stadium seating on the first level was peppered with exhausted Con goers taking a break to eat, play on their smart phones, and observe the mayhem. The floor of the arena was filled with vendors selling everything from comics to swords, collectables to autographs.

The upper balcony seating section was off-limits and hidden behind rail to roof banners hung along the entire circumference. G-Raff was walking along that rail, a fully loaded out Fuzzy Monkey hanging from his back and watching his six. The gnome peaked out between the breaks and holes in the banners to observe the sea of fans below, his black hat pulled down firmly. He tapped his tactical mic twice to allow for hands free voice activation.

“Man, there’s a lot of people in costumes,” G-Raff said, scanning the crowd with a pair of mini-binoculars. “Lots of fake hardware. How accurate’s that picture, Barnes?”

“It’s A.I.C., Agent in Charge, Barnes,” he replied, irritation in his voice. “We rendered it based on descriptions and a corrupted picture file we found on the forum where the unsub bought it. The objective’s entire file and research information was either stolen or wiped when the thieves took it.”

“What dat’?” G-Raff asked, turning his head slightly. “Oh, I agree. Yo, Barnes, Fuzzy says that screams inside job, Dawg. And it’s gonna be a bitch ta spot it ‘less they hold it up high. There has got ta be 5,000 people down there.”

“We ghosted the convention’s attendance database. Closer to 7,500. And the event goes throughout the facility and the bigger adjacent hotels.”

G-Raff grunted, reached around to put the glasses into Fuzzy’s side pouch and grunted from the twinge in his ribs. He unspooled a thin strip of leather, holding it aloft. Strung onto the end of it were some hand-carved turquoise beads and an eagle feather. The feather pivoted at the end of the strip as its quill changed direction, seeming to have a mind of its own. “We sure this thing can detect the axe?”

“Call it the objective,” Barnes corrected. “And I hope so. Had a genuine Shaman from the same tribe do a seven-day sweat and put some serious energy into that feather. Or at least that’s what I’m told. It’ll point if the axe gets close.”

“Well, maybe I’m too far, way da’ fuck up here,” G-Raff pondered. “Ok, new plan. I go low. Down ta the floor. Stay out of sight and do a grid search. Triangulate wit’ this mojo charmed feather.”

“I’m alright with that if you are,” Agent Barnes responded. “But you check in every two minutes. All team members, Asset is moving to floor. Black hat gnome is friendly. Be prepared for D and E if we get compromised. Go word is Bunyan.”

G-Raff grinned. Distract and Extract? He wouldn’t even be noticed in that wildly dressed crowd.

G-Raff walked the hand rail until he was directly over one of the taller displays. It had a girder construction and rose thirty feet in the air. G-Raff brought his cast-hindered right hand together with his left and popped a tunnel. He looked through to the end and saw it came out at the girder frame he had wanted. But the tunnel was only ¾ the size he normally cast.

“Crap. Gotta crawl. G-Raff be right back,” G-Raff tied the leather string into a necklace with the charmed Eagle feather hanging outside his shirt. He entered the tunnel.

To anyone on his team that was watching, he instantly popped out the other end, hanging by the upper girder structure. He was covered in sweat. By G-Raff’s reckoning, it had taken him almost 10 minutes of crawling on elbows and knees in the Fey realm. He waved in Barnes general direction and started descending into the center area of the tower’s triangular girder structure.

The outside was wrapped with a cloth banner, providing him perfect cover to peek out and reach the bottom unobserved. When he was still six feet above the ground, he parted the covering for a closer look. A crowd of people gathered around the vendor’s table below him.

G-Raff held the feather away from his body. It spun with the breeze for a moment and then ticked to his left. G-Raff parted the covering and spotted another booth with a large boxed banner overhang. He dropped the feather and brought his hands together, popping another tunnel. He continued to do the same routine five more times. Pop, exit, hide, feather, look, pop. In between, he’d wait forty seconds for his comm to recover and update the team.

As he exited the most recent tunnel, in a booth that’s upper construction appeared to be a faux barn roof, the feather twitched spastically and then pointed at a downward angle.  He waited as the feather pointed further down every ten seconds or so. G-Raff observed it a full two minutes, parted the covering and saw a line of people in front of the table directly below him. Each carried a copy of a book he was familiar with. “Crypto Team Alpha: The Last Temple”. G-Raff felt a rush of excitement.

G-Raff leaned into the opening and looked down. He saw the back of a man’s head, sporting a close-cut haircut. He was a big man dressed in a casual golf shirt and was signing books.  A man that big could only be one person: Jerry Corinthian, author of epic prose and originator of the Crypto Team universe. G-Raff’s heart raced.

“Fuzz, ya can’t see him from back there, but Jerry Corinthian is right there, dawg. Like ten feet below us,” G-Raff said. Fuzzy didn’t answer, but G-Raff knew he was just as excited about the moment as G-Raff was.

The ex-thug gnome shook his head to clear the fanboy thoughts and looked at the feather again. He moved his arm back and forth in an arc and watched the feather quill point out at the same teenager.

“Asset, check in,” Barnes voice said over the radio.

“G-Raff here. I’m close. Feather is twitchier than a meth-head on a two-day bender,” G-Raff looked down it’s shaft at the line of fans and cosplayers. The third one back was dressed as G-Raff would’ve imagined Crypto Team Alpha’s leader, Johnny Hammer, would have looked. If he was a 16-year-old girl with glasses and braces. She was wearing a tactical outfit with Johnny’s trademark do-rag, emblazoned with screaming skull. In her hand was a copy of the book on top of a wooden box.

“Got her,” G-Raff said. “Table below me. Girl. Maybe sixteen. Fake tactical gear. No sign of axe, but the feather is following her.”

G-Raff’s arm hair tingled. Twice. That got his attention. He double-tapped his mic button.

“Barnes, just felt a disturbance in the force, man. Actually two. Somebody’s popped in. A good distance from me. Maybe overhead. But definitely a pop,” G-Raff said, feeling another twinge. “Shit, just felt another one. Ya better start spotting the rafters, seats and anyplace givin’ cover.”

“Gremlins or Gnomes?” Barnes asked. G-Raff shook his head. The man never paid attention during briefings. “How’m I ‘sposed ta tell, Dawg? Gremlins use Gnome slave girls ta pop around. Just look for little dudes with hats like mine or raggedy ass little things with purple skin and tattoos. They’ll be shorter than the rest o’ these shorties.”

G-Raff felt more pops occurring around him and listened as the agents started talking over the radio. No confirmed sightings, but they were seeing signs of movement above.

The Johnny Hammer cosplay girl moved to the front of Jerry’s table and slid her book to him to sign. He was talking with her as she excitedly flipped pages back and forth, pointing at passages and nodding. They both laughed. After Jerry had signed her book, she pulled out a silver sharpie and slid the wooden box across the table as she opened the lid. She wanted Jerry to sign her bauble. An axe with a hand-hewn handle. Wrapped in deerskin leather and ending in a flint-knapped black obsidian head.

That’s when the main arena lights went out and the screaming started.

“Axe is mine, bitches,” G-Raff said into his mic, but he was already moving, pushing through the banner edging and leaping to the table. He heard a grinding and bending sound above, metal snapping, as an arena light fell to the floor. A loud clang and breaking glass erupted from the light. He heard gravelly voices yelling in German and coming his direction. Emergency lighting started flickering to life. He reached the wooden box and stuck his hand into it, just as the table became bathed in dim yellow light. He turned his head and stared into a face he had only seen on the backs of book covers and on the website fan page. Jerry Corinthian and G-Raff were nose to nose.

“You’re either a Leprechaun or a gnome,” Jerry said calmly, in a concise observational tone.

“No. I am not really here,” G-Raff replied, waving his arm.

“Jedi mind trick? That something you folks can do?”

“Eh, gave it a shot. I’m a gnome. Leprechauns are on lockdown in Ireland,.” G-Raff said, his fingers searching for the axe handle. “And howz you know ‘bout gnomes?”

“Hat. Height.  Fact that you came out of nowhere.”

“Good guess. I know you write books. Guess what? I read a few of them.”

“Gnomes do a lot of reading, do you?” Jerry asked, his eyes darting left and right as more crashing noises and screaming erupted.

“Didn’t used ta, but do now. Long story. Meet many Gnomes befo’?”

“Not really. You in a hurry? Some reason you appear to be stealing this young lady’s souvenir?”

“That’d be another long-ass story,” G-Raff replied, a serious look on his face. “See, I’m wit da gub’ment. Dis’ thing don’t belong her and I‘s confiscatin’ it.”

Jerry continued to lock eyes with G-Raff, moving his large hand over to the lid of the box. “Got any official ID that would lead me to believe you’re telling me the truth?”

“Ever met a gnome that lied?” G-Raff responded, smiling big as he eased the axe handle out of the box.

“No, can’t say as I have,” Jerry said, his expression remaining neutral. “I can also say that I’ve never met one that told the truth, having never met one at all on any previous occasions.”

“I can tell you that we is honest as the day is long, Homie. Peace lovin’ fol—.”

“G-Raff! You gonna die now, ya fuckin’ traitor!”

G-Raff and Jerry turned toward the voice. A gnome in a blue hat was scrambling over the edge of the table. As it stood, it reached behind and withdrew a .22 Jennings J.22 semi-automatic with grips wrapped in electrical tape. The raging gnome pointed it at G-Raff, turned it on its side, and pulled the trigger.

The shot went high as Jerry and G-Raff both ducked. The blue-hatted gnome took a step toward them and pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. He worked the slide, pulled it back twice, and then jammed it home. Lifting the pistol to point at G-Raff, he pulled the trigger again.

The gun exploded back, and up, as the slide portion of the gun slammed into his shoulder, cracking bone. He was also missing a few fingers on his right hand. He screamed obscenities as he dropped to his knees, the defective gun in pieces on the table top.

“Are all gnomes such potty-mouths?” Jerry asked.

“Na,” G-Raff started to answer, then thought better of it. “Actually, yeah, we kinda’ is.”

“Do you all shoot like that?”

“That homie is an L.A. Burrow boy. They watch too many rap videos and bad movies.”

“Huh,” Jerry replied. “I guess that’s a good thing for us.”

G-Raff grabbed the axe out of the box and ran to the fallen gnome. He kicked the gnome in the chest and stepped on the bleeding gnomes damaged arm, pinning him to the table-top.

“You was warned. G-Raff is off limits, Holmes,” G-Raff said through gritted teeth. “And still ya come at me?”

“Come at you? Dawg we came for ya. This whole thing was ta draw ya out of that fortress and whack yo ass, or drag ya back ta da….nevermind. I ain’t no snitch.”
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“Excuse me, Mr. Raff, are gnomes purple as well?” Jerry asked as he leapt up and slid across the table-top. Two Gremlin frau were pulling the cosplay girl’s hair and trying to grab the now empty box from her hands. The girl was not relinquishing the grip on her autographed book, which kept the box pinned to her chest as well. Jerry grabbed the gremlins by the back of their necks and pulled them away. The girl screamed as they still had handfuls of her hair. The gremlins’ sharp claws were leaving numerous cuts on the girl’s arms, shredding her costume.

“Let go. Let go. I said let go!” Jerry repeated as he tried to separate the gremlins from the screaming teen. One of the gremlins saw G-Raff and started yelling in German. The other gremlin stopped struggling and just stared at the gnome.

G-Raff smiled, “That’s right. G-Raff in da house, be-yatches!”

“Are you a gnome?” G-Raff yelled, at the smaller of the purple-skinned gremlins.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes taking in the O.G. tattooed gnome that had spoken her native tongue. “You are G-Raff? He that rescued Hanna?”

“Nein, Nein, Nein! Dein Mund ist zu. Nein Nein!“ The larger gremlin yelled at her companion, the tattooed branded and purple colored gnome girl.

“Any suggestions?” Jerry asked.

“Let the one on the right go and kill the other one. It’s evil.”

“I don’t think I can do…,” Jerry stopped and grunted as the larger gremlin bit into his left hand and clawed his wrist.

“Oh, now I get it,” he said as he grabbed her head and twisted. The muffled crack ended her struggles. “Like we used to do the chickens on the farm.”

“Well, be ready to do more or arm yourself. We can’t let them get this,” G-Raff said as he held up the obsidian headed axe. “Arrgh!”

G-Raff yelled as he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. The L.A. gnome on the ground had pulled a hidden blade, stabbing G-Raff. The small knife protruded from his calf.

“You stupid Tallee. We already got peeps goin’ to get those little bitches of yours. You can’t save them ho’s. You can’t save anyone. You’s just a miserable piece of—.”

The last words were cut off. Along with its entire head, the obsidian blade biting into the table due to the force G-Raff had use to swing it.

“Ow! Damn!” G-Raff said as he let the handle go. The axe had emitted a charge up his arm when it contacted the other gnome’s neck.

“Are you alright, Mr. Raff?“ Jerry said as he jogged over, the purple gnome girl running along the table-top beside him.

“Yeah. Forgot a rule of magic and the axe reminded me,” G-Raff said. “Look, Mr. Corinthian…”

“Jerry,” the large man with the goatee beard said, looking at the headless gnome, then the purple gremlin-esque gnome girl. “I think we’re on a first name basis at this point. What can I do to help?”

“We need ta get this thing out of here,” G-Raff said, holding the axe gingerly. “And I need to get back home. This was a bad setup.”

More screaming and crashing erupted, as a human wave of people started pushing past the table.

G-Raff looked above the crowd as gremlins rode lighting fixtures to the ground from above. The fixtures crashed and glass flew everywhere. More gremlins came, emerging from gnome tunnels in other locations. Under tables, behind banners and on top of stacked boxes.

“All team members, we have lost eyes on the asset,” Barnes said over the comm. “Zombies are in the outer halls. Gremlins in the rafters and on the equipment. There are also blue-hat East L.A. gnomes appearing at the exit points, herding the zombies into the hall. They appear to be armed.  I want two teams on the zombies. Everyone else start killing gremlins and gnomes. Watch for the asset.”

“Barnes!” G-Raff yelled as he cut in his mic. “This is G-Raff. I have the objective. I can help. Respond.”

“Stay in place, G-Raff. We’ll work our way to you.”

“Negative. Anybody near the announcer’s booth? The overhead P.A.? If so, get their earpiece on the mic.”

“I don’t see how that…”

“I’ma solve your gremlin problem,” G-Raff said, and then turned to Jerry. “Jerry, I need ya ta grab that cart and be ready to move. Lookout!”

A zombie came ambling up behind Jerry. As it clawed at him, Jerry threw a hardback copy of his latest “Crypto Team Alpha” book. The zombie’s head snapped back. Jerry used the momentary distraction to reach into the next booth’s display rack and pick up a replica katana sword. He turned and sliced in one motion. The top half of the zombie’s head hit the ground.

G-Raff smiled. “Skills, my man. You gotz skills!” G-Raff said as he popped Fuzzy off his shoulder, unzipped the furry mouth and reached inside. He withdrew two small flares and handed them to Jerry. “I need ya to stand on that table. When I signal, light these flares and wave them in the air.”

“Like I just don’t care?” Jerry said, a his face serious and intense.

G-raff was about to respond when Jerry smiled.

“Oh, you a funny one, you is, Mr. Big Time Writer. You a comedian.”

“What is your name?” G-Raff asked as he turned to the purple painted gnome girl.

“Hedda.”

“Ok, Hedda, how many gnomes are the gremlins using to pop?”

“Including me, Five,” she replied after silently counting in her head.

“Good. You’re in charge of keeping them together if this works, yes?”

“I will keep them together,” she replied and then looked around expectantly.

“Barnes,” G-Raff said into his mic. “We got 25 to 35 Gremlins based on the number that travel with a gnome slave. That’s your minimum kill objective.”

“Affirmative,” Barnes said as two muffled shots rang out. “Now a probable thirty-three left.”

“Asset, this is Agent Calvey, I’m at the PA,” G-Raff heard over the earpiece.

“Good. Calvey, Turn that bitch way up and put your earpiece on it,” G-Raff said. The overhead speaker system popped and squealed slightly. G-Raff tapped his mic and spoke. “Test, one, two.” the hall echoed with his voice. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Hear me Gnome slaves,” G-Raff said. “I’m G-Raff, protector of Hanna and Signe, and I’m here to save you. All of you. Look to the red burning sticks. I’m here with Hedda, one of your own. Today you’re free. Leave the gremlins behind. Pop over here now!  Come and be with your sisters Hanna and Signe! Be Free.”

“Now, Jerry!” G-Raff said, as he put the axe into Fuzzy Monkey and zipped his companions mouth mostly shut. A portion of the handle stuck out.

Jerry leapt up on the table, striking the igniters and lighting the tiny flares. Jerry was well over six feet tall and could easily be seen standing on the table waving his arms. The hair on G-Raff’s arms stood up as he felt the tunnels forming around him. He smiled as purple gnome girls tumbled out of thin air onto the table. He counted four, and Hedda.

“Go, go, go! Into there!” G-Raff said, touching the gnome girl’s arms and pointing to the wheeled cart.

“Barnes, we’ve neutralized the gremlins ability to pop. We’re evacuating with the objective. I need transport to get off-site. Repeat, the objective is safe, need transport.”

“There’s a tactical van at the loading dock, but how are you going to drive it?”

“I think I got that covered,” G-Raff replied, turning to Jerry. “Up for a little adventure, Jerry?”

Jerry smiled and then frowned, quickly arching the katana above his head and then swinging it down on G-Raff with incredible speed. G-Raff was shocked and barely moved. He felt a warm wetness spray across the exposed portion of the back of his head. He turned his head slowly, only to see a blue hat gnome split in half as Jerry pulled the sword back.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to warn you. And yeah, I’m in, little man!”

“Let’s roll!”

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