“Da-a-ad…”

“He’s your dad?”

Nono rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he adopted me years back and–”

“Who told you that you were adopted?” Merle was playing the fool rather well, but this was an old joke from way back.

Nono sighed as the other two chucklefucks took up the goof. This, she decided, meant something approaching war. It did not take long for the opening volleys.

“Hey. Hey. Druid… whatever your name is…”

“Yes, honoured elder?” Ooh! That one made him twitch. He had the signs of someone who’d lived through Saint Vingo’s and that was one phrase she could turn like a knife. Best to keep it for special occasions, then.

For the rest of the time, she taunted him with ‘grampa’ and senility jokes at his expense. She knew damn well that he just didn’t want to bother remembering anything, and therefore didn’t keep track.

“Can you do anything about that big door?” said Magnus Burnsides, big dumb lug and meat shield for everyone else.

“I could play ‘shave and a haircut’ on it,” Nono offered. “It doesn’t have any locks. No handles. Nothing. There’s nothing for me to do on it.”

“Tree shape it or something, I dunno.”

“Yeah, you don’t. Thanks for pointing that out, Lugnuts.”

It was later, Chaos had happened. They were scooped up by the Orc lady and ferried to the moon. Well. Not a moon. A cleverly-made secret base in the sky. Hiding the best that advanced science had to offer. Also people in uniforms and a truly gross feeling in her inner ear.

“So…” prompted Taako.

“Yes, grampa?”

“Use whatever your ninja skills are and find out some shit.”

“Oh, but Papà forbade me from talking to strangers, good gentle sir.”

Glare from Merle. “You can’t be feeling that terrible, you’ve still got a mouth on you.”

“You know they’re not detachable, Papà.”

In spite of how they were feeling, Lugnuts laughed.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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The Stone in her hands said, “Hello, sirs. Hello ma’am.”

Aw shit. It was the baby nerd from the train. Wait. If he was here, what had happened to her mother? Noth that she actually cared that much, but… There had been a few moments, in-between fighting like Orcs and Elves, when Minmin actually showed that she cared enough about Nono to make sure certain things happened.

Like… not telling anyone that Minmin was Nono’s mother. Or that they were both underage.

Nono’s concerns had answers in less than a handful of seconds, because a door opened for the big reveal. The baby nerd was there, of course, in his fancy lad clothes, and behind him was Minmin. She was using the name La’ming as part of her ruse, the same way Nono was trying on Salat’krou for size. It was too complicated… and too late to change it now.

On one hand, she was relieved that her mother was still alive. On the other hand, those were fading bruises on her blue face, almost blending in there, but still perceptible. Thirdly, though, she was here. Nono didn’t know whether to be happy, upset, or furious.

From the looks of things, Minmin didn’t know whether to be happy, terrified, or furious, either.

The air started to crackle with the energy between them as they decided on a common emotion… and it wasn’t ‘happy’.

*

It had taken some time for Angus to become friends with Salat’krou, the mysterious Druid/Rogue accompanying the Reclaimers on most, if not all, of their missions. She was vulnerable to the Thrall of the Relics, but also smart enough to stay well away when it came time to scoop them up for retrieval.

There was something… off about her. Something all the Elves and half-Elves in the Bureau knew and carefully did not talk about. A conspiracy that Team Sweet Flips was somehow also in on. Angus tried training with them to see if he could work it out, or at least glean something involving a clue from their collective behaviour.

What he got was… some very good training.

There was always an Elf or a half-Elf in the stands. Watching. Supervising. Like Madam Director or Taako would watch him when it was his turn for the rough and tumble. Almost like…

…Oh…

Like a wary guardian making sure their kid didn’t get hurt.

Like La’ming was always there, always lurking out of immediate view, watching and flinching like a parent forbidden access to their child… but watching from afar…

But. Wait. Both La’ming and Salat’krou claimed to be one hundred and one years of age. Angus knew it was a lie in the case of La’ming, because he’d found her out on the train. The paperwork had a few subtle errors that most people would miss…

She and Sal could almost be sisters…

But La’ming was a Sea Elf and Sal was a Beach Elf. You only got a Beach Elf if a Sun Elf and a Sea Elf…

The clues slotted into place inside Angus’ dome piece with a click that should have been heard across the entire moon. Not sisters. Mother and daughter.

There had to be some hinky stuff happening - what, sixteen, seventeen years ago? Because La’ming would have been seventy-one when “Salat’krou” was born.

Angus decided that, for the sake of everyone present, plausible deniability had to be the order of the day. He could keep a secret just as well as anyone else on this base. Heck, he was certain Madam Director knew and didn’t say because otherwise those kids would be out in the gutter or worse.

He decided on being friendlier. Trying to give “Sal” a few more chances to act her age. Therefore, he invited her to show him some moves on the ‘agility obstacle course’ that the Bureau had set up. What it really was was a play gym and everyone knew it, but nobody said.

He waited until she was laughing with him and having fun before whispering, “So what’s your real name?”

“You know my name,” she evaded. “Salat’krou. Everyone knows.”

“No, I mean, your real name. The one that isn’t fake?”

She glared at him. They were both hanging upside-down by their knees and, for an instant, the beanpole of an Elf looked like she was considering murder. “Of course you worked it out. World’s greatest detective.”

“To your credit, it was everyone else that eventually gave it away.”

She righted herself, and said, “You going to do anything about it? Make it official? Tell the director?”

Angus flipped up to the vertical as well. “Miss? I haven’t even told Davenport.” Which was next to pointless since Davenport didn’t say much past his own name. “And I promise I won’t, either.”

There was a long moment in which Angus felt like he was being weighed in thee balance and calculated as to his worth by the ounce. Or, perhaps, the karat. She took a deep breath and whispered. “Nono.” A sigh. Another deep breath. “Nono… Ton.”

It was the best-kept secret on the moon. One never spoken, even by those who were in on it. Angus was proud to be a member of the conspiracy.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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