Tim sucked in his breath, enjoying the last bit of clean country air filling his lungs as Drassington came back into sight. The journey was certainly long, but it sure was nice to walk through the countryside, even if their destination turned out to be so very familiar. Tim shuddered slightly as his mind was once again bombarded with hazy images of burnt and splintered houses.

Dammit. Just the thing to spoil his mood. He thought, forcing his attention back to the slowly approaching city in an attempt to start thinking of something, anything else. Yes, something else. Like how the guards at the gate did not seem to be particularly watchful, or how the stone walls looked surprisingly similar to the walls of the Bastille, or even how that lady getting waved in by the guards looked just like Maria-

Tim’s eyes refocused and all his attention went to the gate.

Fuck.

The second and closer look had proved him wrong. He shook his head in annoyance and turned his head back towards the road and the steadily approaching gate. Just have to ignore it and move on, Tim reassured himself, once the action starts going, I will be right as rain again. And action it will be, the half-elf promised himself with a quiet giggle. He had the structure of a plan worked out, and it was showing promise in his head at least. Hell, even just thinking about it and the chances of succeeding made him feel like his blood had been replaced with burning fire. The kind of fire that stoked the heart, that filled the body when one dared to do something that had never been done before. To kill a hero. Tim grinned involuntarily. His simple three-step plan, provided that he could get all the materials, make the stuff he needed without dying, and deploy it successfully, was his best one yet.

Ah, yes, he remembered, that’s right. The materials. He turned to Bert, who had fallen into step almost right behind him, still occupied with bouncing the child up and down with his beard.

“Oi Bert, once we get past the gate I need you and the boys to get me some things.”

Bert looked up from his newfound friend and visibly suppressed a grimace, which Tim decided to ignore for now. “I got ya boss, what do ya need me to grab? More alchemy crap?”

Tim let out an irritated snort. “Yes. This alchemy ‘crap’, as you say, is important to the next part of the plan.” Tim pulled a book out of his pack and started leafing through the pages. “I need large amounts of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter. In addition, I also need urine, cinnamon, some sort of fireproofing chemical, whatever pesticides you can find, sodium fluoride, and as pure of alcohol that you can buy. Also, I need an additional two sets of general alchemist gear, same as the one you got me before.”

Bert’s eyes widened at the sheer amount of materials Tim had listed off. The worst part was, and the part that scared him the most, is that it all just seemed so random. “Right boss, I’ll get the boys on it, and they’ll grab it from different stores like usual.” And, Bert mentally added, I will definitely not ask why you need piss.

Tim nodded. “Good. Just make sure those fellas are careful with the ingredients and deliver them to the usual place.”

After voicing his assent, Bert discretely split off from Tim as they passed through the gate with barely even a word spoken to them from the bored-looking guards, making sure to hold the kid’s hand to prevent any lost child situations. There was no way in hell he was going to let Tim fill that little head with his insane ideas.

Keeping on the main street, Tim raised the collar of his raggedy scholars robes as he strode back to the archives, eyes glancing from alley to gutter and suppressing a grin as he noticed that there seemed to be a much larger population of rats than there used to be.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“So, that’s the gist of what you missed, Kevin.” Elena leaned back, sipping the tea that Kevin’s butler had poured her, slightly smiling as the liquor Clarkson had snuck into the tea for her hit, making the drink actually enjoyable for once. Opposite from her, letting out occasional wheezing and coughing, the slightly overweight form of her fellow hero lay on the couch.

“So the way I see it,” Kevin rasped, “is that you lot are no nearer to finding the fucker who gassed my house than when I entered that sorry excuse of a hospital.”

Elena bit back the annoyed retorts that nearly sprang out of her mouth and shook her head. “Yeah. We think he used mustard gas, but we don’t even know for sure how he learned about it. The worst part is that according to the government alchemists, its not even that hard to make once you have the recipe, so it’s quite possible the culprit could be some ordinary person who got in with the wrong crowd.”

Kevin scowled at her words. “Like hell it’s an ordinary person. First my old butler gets flambéed, and now we have a local World War 1 reenactment.” He heaved his bulk off the couch and started pacing in irritation.

“Don’t forget, Kevin, about that half-elf, the rats, and the demon too.” Elena reminded him.

This brought out a snort of derisive laughter from Kevin. “Yes, your little halfie and the rats. First you fail to kill that demon, and then you can’t even track down a single person or even guard a fortress in the ass-crack of nowhere! And then you even managed to get that!” Kevin gestured to Elena’s missing shield-arm in ridicule. “Be real with me woman, you’re just pretending to be a hero, aren’t you?”

Elena glared at the portly hero and an invisible pressure began to form in the air. “You really want to fucking test me right now?” She growled. “For someone who’s the weakest out of the living heroes, you sure like to talk shit.”

“Oi, oi, break it up you two,” Clarkson swooped in, holding a tray of warm pastries. “Kevin, please don’t antagonize the cleric, and Elena, just remember those breathing exercises I taught you. In, out. Just like that.”

Kevin scowled as Elena followed suit with her loyal soldier’s calm words. “Whatever,” Kevin muttered. After a few minutes Elena’s breathing became quicker and she sat down with a sigh. “You know, Kevin, we really have to do something. There are civilians at risk now, and,” She continued over Kevin’s bark of laughter, “we have to do something in response to you being attacked in your own home. We can’t have the heroes being seen as weak, or every scum in the country would come crawling out of the woodwork.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Soon after Tim entered the archives he could already feel his mind clearing. Well sure, the country air was nice, but there ain’t no place like home. He cheerfully thought. Even if home was filled with bookshelves with no end in sight, or hordes of rats moving to and fro in welcome. After a few minutes of walking, Tim came into sight of his base of operations, the forgotten breakroom. Philbert’s head poked out of his shirt pocket, and the two of them gave a slight bow towards the swirling and rippling figure of the rat king, still curled up on the Frankenstein couch.

“Well Philbert,” Tim laughed as he set down his bags, “I guess we can just relax for a little bit until my minions return with my precious cargo.”

Philbert looked up towards his companion with slight curiosity in his eyes. “Yes, yes, Tim, what is the plan this time?” The rat droned with his monotone voice.

Tim’s slightly pointy ears visibly perked up. “Aha! The plan!” He shouted, weariness forgotten as he strode towards his modest collection of beakers, tubes, and other assorted glassware. “You see, Philbert, when we went on our little trip, I was able to spend plenty of time thinking, which led me to concoct my three-step plan. The first step, which I will only go somewhat in-depth into because of spoilers, is that Philbert, we’ve got to cook!” Tim paused dramatically with his finger in the air, turning towards the rat and shaking his head. “No, no, Philbert, don’t give me that expression! We have to do some alchemy to make three weapons that, when used one after the other, I am fairly sure we can defeat that murderous bastard Kevin with.”

That made Philbert’s ears perk up with interest, and the rat nodded for Tim to continue.

“So, Philbert, old boy, you might be wondering how we are going to make weapons with the seemingly random ingredients that I ordered. Well,” Tim explained without waiting for Philbert to agree, “sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter can apparently be combined in certain ratios to make an alchemical mixture that according to the history of the heroes world, can be used to create very violent reactions. They call this,” Tim posed once more with his finger in the air, “gunpowder!” Tim paused for a second for nonexistent applause, and then lunged back into his enthusiastic explanation. “Aha, my ratty friend, I can almost hear your thoughts! ‘Tim! Will gunpowder be enough to take out a hero of all people?’ The answer, Philbert, is probably not!” Tim sucked in a deep breath and continued. “That is where my second amazing discovery comes into play! The wonderful, the magnificent, white phosphorus! Hopefully guaranteed to add extra oomph to your local violent gunpowder reactions. Honestly, this stuff is way better than any sort of mustard gas.”

Even though there were still no reactions from his rat audience, Tim plowed forwards and continued to the last step. “Now, imagine this, my friends. The false hero Kevin, resistances broken by the gunpowder, armor burned by the white phosphorus. At this point, we need something special. Something deadly, but different. Something so potent that it is even near suicidal to make, according to the texts. I present to you in hypothetical terms only, sarin nerve gas! If my guess is correct, if we manage to wear down his resistances enough, that should be enough to drop him for good!"

Slightly out of breath, Tim ended his enthusiastic presentation and bowed. From his shirt pocket, Philbert wiggled his whiskers and politely clapped.