Oh, not Garcia’s guitars.
“What about them?”
Are they what’s being heisted?
“God, no. Dude. How could you even accuse me of being involved with that?”
Anything goes in a Murder Heist, Oteil.
“Well aware of the fact. But there’s some lines you don’t cross. Stealing Garcia’s guitars is like tugging on Superman’s cape, man.”
Okay, okay. What are they for, then?
“Funny twist in the Murder Heist: A large portion of the plan now takes place in a semi-adjacent trimension.”
Trimension?
“It’s like a dimension, but more triangular.”
Sure. Why the guitars?
“They contain Remnant Magicks. Combine that with a Time Sheath, and you can pretty much do whatever the hell you want.”
Uh-huh. And once you arrive in this new reality, you will…
“Meet my contact.”
Whose identity, I’m guessing, is as of now unknown to you.
“Good guess.”
I think you guys are taking the compartmentalization thing too far. None of you seems to know the overall goal.
“Nonsense.”
Who is to be murdered?
“Deserving subjects.”
And what is to be heisted?
“That which can be stolen.”
You have no idea.
“I have received a full situational briefing.”
Just admit it. Is there even a plan at all? For all I know, you nimrods are freelancing.
“There’s no need for name-calling.”
Y’know what? You’re right. I apologize.
“I can see you using that kind of language with Billy, but not me.”
Billy usually deserves it.
“Yeah.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I gotta take this. It might be someone calling to ask me to be on a podcast.”
You’ve been doing a lot of those.
“Dude, I’m so bored I could explode. Hold on.”
…
“This is Oteil, and you better keep it real.”
“Oi, we’re as real as an eel salad, me lad.”
“Are you my intertrimensional contacts?”
“That we are. We are roguish scoundrels ‘oo play fast an’ loose wiv th’ laws of man an’ th’ laws of physics.”
“Y’look a lot like Iron Maiden and Def Leppard in soccer uniforms.”
“No idea what that is, me lad.”
“They’re bands.”
“I haven’t th’ kippers what you’re on about. We are a scurvy crew of sexy brigands who go adventuring an’ get inta scrapes. We are not bound by the strictures of mathematics, and several o’ us can shoot poxy rays out their eyeballs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I lead these men. You can call me Steve Harris.”
“Oh, come on.”
“What?”
“Are you telling me you’re not Iron Maiden?”
“We’re space pirates of time from beyond time and space.”
“And you just happen to look exactly like two of the biggest hard rock bands of the 80’s?”
“Young man, we still sell out arenas to this day.”
…
“What the fuck, man?”
“You caught us out. We was tryin’ t’ have a bit of a raspberry tart with you.”
“So you really are Maiden? You guys got a Time Sheath or something?”
“No. Double-twist: We actually a roving gang of reality-hopping troublemakers. But, uh, not the fun, heart-of-gold kind. We’re really into genocide. So we…well, I don’t wanna say ‘ate’ Iron Maiden and Def Leppard, because that would be technically wrong. And I also don’t wanna say we ‘assumed their forms’ because the process is so much more intricate than that phrase suggests. We’re them now. Let’s just leave it there: We’re them now.”
…
“I think I’d like to quit the Murder Heist and go home now.”
“Way too late. Wheels are in motion.”
“Shit.”
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