Beyond the Thunderdrome pt. 1
With the subtlety of a Dwarvish cannon shooting air horns for cannonballs, Cesta kicked in the door, motioning with full arms to the entire tattoo parlor. It was a bonafide shop, furnished with all the things it should: an office, waiting area, a couple extendable chairs, and a wall filled with a gratuitous amount of varying guitars. Although the shop was relatively small compared to the more extravagant buildings owned by the Tradebarons, it was home. And home in Gadgetzan, where fat wallets are aplenty and the streets are filled with almost every known race in Azeroth, felt damn good.
“Can’t you see this is FRICKIN’ AWESOME, Qor-bear?”
The blind demon hunter deadpanned at her sister, folding her arms.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” Cesta scratched behind her neck, managing an apologetic smile.
Qorenys’s lips pressed together, unable to hide the fond smile brightening her face. Gadgetzan was a hazardous location, cartels everywhere, and bruisers all too ready to pound anything to a pulp if they caused trouble. But, perhaps, that may be why Cesta chose this location. Calling her younger sister streetwise was an understatement.
“It seems like an interesting location. Though, Cesta, I am concerned about how far away from any other main city will go.”
“Two steps ahead ‘a ya, sis!” She hurried into her new office. Red button under the desk. Red button under the--SELF-DESTRUCT IN FIVE MINUTES--Yellow Button! Definitely the yellow button! Wait... THAT’S THE PARTY BUTTON! Cesta scrambled to pull the override lever as if revving up a chainsaw. Qorenys looked to her sides, her ears ringing as the warbling alarms blared through the shop accompanied by confetti and strobe lights. Finally, after several yanks, the alarm went quiet. SELF DESTRUCT CANCELED. Several awkward moments later, a party horn blared out before the shop went silent.
“Why in all that is green on Azeroth do you have a self-destruct function in what is essentially your new house?”
Cesta held a finger up, looking from side to side and over her shoulder as if checking to see if the coast was clear. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Qory. Gonna tell ya a secret.”
Secret, her ass. After living with Cesta for decades, ‘Secret’ is a code word for ‘dumb shit’ or ‘sarcasm.’ Still, Qorenys leaned forward. Would it be the whoopie cushion, the airhorn, or the old ear-flick?
The younger twin dropped her voice to a whisper, cupping her hand around her mouth. “I have a self-destruct function here in case… I need to blow this shit the fuck up if, I don’t know, someone tries ta extort me or rob the shop."
Yep. That was about as asinine as the older twin expected. She dragged a palm down her face. “What’s wrong with just… a gun? Or better yet, you don’t even need a gun. What’s wrong with just burning them alive with felfire?”
“...It’s not as badass.”
“Watching someone who tried to extort you burn alive writhing on the floor isn’t badass?”
“No, Qory, what the fuck? That’s fucked up--But nah. Seriously. It’s because news spreads in this town quickly, and I’d rather not, you know, people know I’m a frickin’ warlock?”
“So you invite your demon hunter sister to break in your new place, proudly showing your green hair, and eyes that burn with felfire just like mine?” Qorenys chuckled, flicking her sister’s forehead. “If you don’t want people to know your power, you’re not doing it very effectively.
Cesta yelped, rubbing at the flicked spot with a puffed cheek. “I’m shit at disguises.”
“And lying, apparently. Tell me the real reason.”
“Hrumph.” The younger twin folded her arms, averting her eyes. She didn’t want to admit anything, but once Qory caught onto something, she rarely gave up the scent. “I thought it was cool.”
The twins fell silent, staring each other down. Cesta raised her eyelids--Wait. It was probably stupid to challenge an illidari to a staring contest. Instead, Cesta leaned in, or rather, she leaned up. She always hated that Qory was a few inches taller.
“To be fair, it is cool,” Qory conceded.
“SeeEeEE?” Cesta’s voice shot up several octaves, palms outstretched to prove her point.
“I just think the execution could have been better,” Qory remarked, knowing exactly how to playfully jab at her younger sister.
“ Fuck ya too, sis.”
“Love you, Cesta.”
“Love yer stupid face too, Qor-bear. BUT! Gettin’ back on track!” Cesta skipped over to the front windows, pulling the blinds up. At two in the morning, all that was left awake in this bustling city were the bruisers patrolling for any trouble and the city nightlife, blaring out muffled electronic music several blocks down in the aptly-named 'Swanky Town.'
“This place is perfect!” Cesta grinned wide. “We’re nestled right in the heart of the city! Cross streets are even badass too!: Gallywix-Sucks-Ass Boulevard and Noggenfogger Avenue. This building? Suite number sixty-nine.”
If the demon hunter still had eyes, she’d roll them. “What does having a coitus position for an address have to do with what you wanted to show me? The solution I assume you made to counter the fact that you are in, how do you say it, ‘Ass-End-of-Kalimdor-ia?’”
Cesta held a finger up, grinning wide as she slinked back behind her office desk. She just needed to make a note later to cover the self-destruct button with glass or something. But this time, Cesta double-checked that this button was actually green. Pushing it, a strange mechanical apparatus whirred in the corner. Its platform spun like a glowing disc.
“Meet my teleporter. Figured out how ta actually make one that didn’t conjure random loaves of bread or somethin’ whenever someone used it.”
As if on cue, the teleporter whirred. A banana flung out of it and splattered against the far wall. Thankfully, nothing valuable was on that wall.
“It appears rather than a bread problem, you now have a fruit problem.”
“Hey. I said, ‘bread-proofed,’ not ‘fixed.’ Look, all I gotta do is put a safety net or some shit on that wall. It’ll be great!”
"Cesta."
"Yeah?
"You're an imbecile."
