Junior heard Wendy before he saw her—those high heels of hers made a clack that he could detect from about a lightyear away. As he immediately spun around to greet her, the smarmy, devil-may-care smile he was about to throw out wilted as he saw the fire in her eyes. That was not good. Fire-in-her-eyes Wendy was not a Wendy he ever liked seeing.
“Uh, Wendy?” Junior said with a confused blink. His bald, bow wearing sister was walking in with a purple cloud lady who had a hairdo that looked so much like Ludwig that he nearly though it WAS Ludwig, vaporized into a purple fart cloud somehow. But Ludwig (thankfully) didn’t have big lips or big boobs, and he realized it was someone else. He heard what his sister had to say.
Diddy was initially pleasantly surprised to see Wendy walk into the parlor. She had always been extremely supportive of him and Junior’s gay relationship, and he always saw her as a trusted confidant. That made it all the more alarming hearing what she had to say.
Diddy was looking at Junior halfway through Wendy’s speech. Seeing a smart ass little punk like Bowser Junior—THE Bowser Junior who regularly danced with the man in red and sneered in his mustached face—shrink with every word his sister said hammered home how bad this situation was. When Marcus and Jerry were brought up, the two bolted to their feet.
“What!?” Junior shouted as he dug his claws into his scalp. “You were supposed to help look out for him! You promised!”
“Jerry’s in jail??” Diddy said, flabbergasted. Donkey didn’t know Jerry all that well, but he never thought his first reaction would be to throw him in the clink just for impersonation.
But what really shook Diddy was seeing Junior turn nearly white with fear at the mention of his father. It made his fur stand on end. Bowser was a stern father, but he rarely got outright angry with Junior—he spoiled the little snot too much for that. The possibility of Junior’s father getting certain ‘information’ out of Junior’s double through torture or other means turned Diddy’s blood to ice.
“Y-you got to help us!” Diddy pleaded with Wendy. He didn’t know this Flurry lady, but as far as he knew she couldn’t help him out of this disastereous situation, so he ignored her for the moment. “Junior’s dad can’t know about… US!” He said pointing between he and Junior as Junior nodded emphatically in agreement.
Rogan and G pretended that they had nothing to do with Junior or Diddy. They did stare—pretending that a commotion wasn’t happening in the parlor would have been more suspicious than not—but they didn’t do anything to indicate that they were partied to the koopa and the monkey. Rogan heard the name Wendy, and it rung a bell. The two waited, doing nothing, but simply ate ice cream in silence, ready to make whatever move they needed to wait to help the two little brats that they were watching out for.
----
Usso sighed as he cashed in his check. Maybe Shakti was right—maybe he was over thinking this. He still felt guilty accepting such a large sum of money. A part of his mind—a very id part of his mind—assuaged him. ‘The V-2 is worth, what—trillions? This squirrel is practically ripping you off for only a million to rent it, don’t feel so guilty!’ The problem was, Usso didn’t really believe that. Maybe the V-2 was worth that much, but a PTSD-riddled pilot like him sure wan’t. Still, he knew how much good this money could do for the folks back in Kaseralia. They, if not him, deserved this money. With a conflicted heart, he deposited his first check.
