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He knew it was going to fall before it even began. The little white ball of frozen sugar and cream had started to melt even before he had handed the cone over to the petulant little beast. Years upon years of training, hard work, and struggle had honed his reflexes to a razor's edge. All that training had warned him of the impending disaster.
And he did nothing.
Rob Lucci stood, wearing the garb of a service worker, behind the counter of the ice cream stall that was stationed across the street from the mayor's office. The sobbing puddle of anger that, mere moments ago, had been a child, tried pathetically to scoop the destroyed treat back into its cone. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention to that. He was distracted by the spitting vitriol of the devil's progenitor, blaming him for the child's inability to hold onto a single scoop of frozen cream.
His mind drifted to happier places, to all the possible retributions he could visit upon this pathetic excuse for a human. He could wipe her from the face of the earth so thoroughly it would be as though she had never existed, her horrible spawn left to the whims of the Water 7 child welfare system. To how he would get his revenge upon Iceburg for tasking him with running this particular shop during the festival. No matter how important staying undercover was to get the plans for Pluton, it couldn't be worth this indignity.
His teeth ached and his fingernails dug into his palm as he balanced precariously on the precipice of absolute chaos. "Would. You. Like. A. Replacement?" He choked out through Hattori, carefully enunciating each word so as to avoid tearing the woman's throat out.
"Of course I do," the screeching terror replied, "and a refund for the trauma you've put me and my son through!" It was all he could do not to scream, but years of disciplined training let him focus his hatred into scooping more saccharine spheres onto a replacement cone.
Lucci's eyes followed the two horrible creatures as they left his stall. The little brat, long since recovered from his tantrum, turned back towards him, and grinned wickedly, shaking his cone as if to drop it again.
Twenty-four hours.
Lucci had been operating this confectionery emporium for only twenty-four hours. And yet, it felt like an age. An Eon. An interminable purgatory he could not escape from lest he unravel the careful web CP9 had spent so long constructing. But could it really be worth his sanity?
The task of delivering clients unto their sugared vices grew no less demeaning as the day wore on, the customers no less disgusting. Every time his observation was interrupted by some sniveling thing, he wished only that they would leave his sight as quickly as possible. Hatred breeds efficiency.
Lucci watched another customer, served and dismissed, happily stroll down the street enjoying the sunshine and the soothing salve of icy sugar. Before he could return his attention to wistful imaginings of violence and retribution, a small hand appeared on the counter. It reached around until it grabbed hold of the delicate wire rack used to display the myriad cones and cups. The hand pulled, and the rack came down with it, hurtling towards the ground.
As much as he wanted to just stand there and let the cones fall to the ground—after all, it would be an excuse to stop serving—he leapt over the counter, snatching the cones from the air. He looked down at the cause of the disturbance.
The child from the day before glared up at Lucci, face full of malice and mischief in equal measure. It grinned up at him before letting tears well up in its eyes, shouting "MOMMY, THE ICE CREAM MAN HURT ME!" And running down the street.
A few minutes passed. He could feel his heart beating angrily in his chest, until… Off in the distance: The familiar screeching sound of the insignificant speck's custodian. Lucci braced himself for another tirade.
Three days is entirely too long for an event such as this.
Three days of torture, of being misted with the spittle and debasement of the unwashed masses demanding their sick saccharine delights. On the first day, Lucci had been so sure that the cramped truck he was forced to inhabit could not contain enough of the product to last a day, let alone three. Unfortunately—much to his dismay—not only had he never run out, it was even restocked at the end of each day.
Each day, a fresh stock. Each day, a fresh hell.
He stood, leaning forward out of the truck to avoid scraping his head against the cold metal ceiling, and glared at the passersby daring each of them to come over and speak to him. His grimace, having so far served its purpose, slipped slightly as he saw a familiar visage.
The demon, once again by itself as it strolled through the festival, was heading towards Lucci. Their eyes locked for a moment before the adolescent suddenly ran to the left, exiting the limited peripheral vision the food truck allowed. The exhausted agent nearly breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the creature had had its fill the previous days.
It was almost imperceptible at first. The world around his tiny prison began to shift ever so slightly, and the platform he was standing on began to shake. His heart jumped into his throat as the truck began to accelerate, patrons screaming and jumping out of the way as the slight incline became a hill.
The truck, now trundling down a steep hill, continued to pick up speed as Lucci clambered out onto the roof. He could now see that the hill ended—as all things do in water 7—at the ocean. A heavy sigh left his lips as he jumped down in front of the speeding contraption, feigning effort as he brought it to a stop mere feet from the boardwalk.
The crowd around him stood in a shocked circle, and some few began clapping before Lucci heard the familiar sound of the horrible creature crying. He could see it now, clinging to the back of the truck, parking brake in hand. As he made his way towards the child, Hattori landed on his shoulder, preparing to speak.
Blinded by fury, Lucci continued his approach, fully prepared to rend this demon limb from limb, before he heard a voice from behind him. "What happened here Mr. Lucci?" Iceburg stepped out from the crowd, as the demon slipped away, "did you forget to set the parking brake?"