Interview with the Matriarch

Chapter One: Poor, poor, Harold.

The Matriarch laughed. It seemed she'd never stop. It was one of those helpless infectious laughs that would have the whole room giggling if it wasn't full of grim longbow operatives. Inquisitor Rommel had the look of total exasperation he always had when the Bone Matriarch was in his care. Despite orders otherwise, he desired to shoot her right in the middle of her painted head. She was obnoxious, contrary, smug, but one of the best sources of information that the organization Longbow had.

"How's the eye, Mikey?"

The rifleman dubbed Mikey sneered, "My name is Harold."

The Nullifier next to him jabbed him in the kidney. "Don't talk to her!"

"God, you had that black eye for a month! Put a steak on it, for chrissakes! Trust me, Bobbie. It works wonders.

The rifleman turned red. His right eye had been pitch black where the matriarch had given him a "love jab." The actual bruise had been gone after a week, but the black stain remained. She never let an opportunity to give him grief about it.

The interrogator sighed. "Bone, can we get on with this? Some of us have plans."

"Fine, fine. You got it. I've got people to do, things to meet." She cracked her knuckles and made Harold flinch again. She gave him a sidelong smirk. "Sorry Freddie."

The Bone Matriarch then gave the interrogator her full attention, and Interrogator Warden Rommel gave her his. She wore what she always wore, nothing that really screamed "super villain," but that was her occupation. She wore what was functional, not spandex or low cut revealing clothing, she didn't need to distract her foes. Her black bandanna kept her purple dyed hair out of her eyes and her just-barely tinted sunglasses gave her a look of eclectic style. The rest of her clashed with this suggestive theme. Her face had a skull painted on it, 24/7, which matched her tattoo, another skull just beneath her neckline, the namesake of her gang, the skulls. She wore a Black leather jacket with several near-miss cuts and holes in it, each a badge in her superior reflexes. Another, larger skull adorned her right shoulder, and under the jacket, a normal tank top that showed just enough cleavage to show she was hot to trot, but not to grab focus. She wore two fingerless gloves to protect her vicious weapons, her two fists. A pair of tough, heavy jeans tight enough to keep from catching, but not tight enough to burst during a lot of stress. A designer pair of sneakers completed the ensemble. She might as well have something nice, she figured. Overall, modest and practical.

Rommel gave her the usual speech about confidentiality and such, and he could already see her attention wane, slowly drifting back to make fun of poor Harold, or to poke at the nullifier's thighs, perhaps. He decided to get this show on the road. "Bone, there's a new villain on the scene lately, he's caused a lot of damage, we need to know who he is, and how to stop him. What can you tell us?" He folded his hands, half waiting, half praying she didn't ramble on about some unrelated topic.

"Well, Rommie, there's about a million villains on the scene, how about some clue to who you're talking about?" She copied his stance.

He narrowed his eyes. "You know damn well who I mean, if you have the contacts you say you do. But, if you want to play the game, I have a report to show you." He produced a folder from his briefcase, and started to read from a paper stapled to about fifty more. "At 0400 hours Monday morning, a longbow squad was interrupted in its patrol in Nerva Archipelago by a so called "shadow." They believed it to be nothing more than a Circle trick or possibly a Stalker type villain with poor stealth capabilities. However, instead of any "assassination strikes" upon the team, it instead burst from the undergrowth and promptly "exploded" in the midst of the longbow patrol. Numerous puncture wounds killed 19 of the 20 in that patrol. We could NOT resurrect them. They weren't teleported back to base, except for the one who gave us the report. The only other thing he could report was a "feeling of intense fear," but seeing how the nature of the assault was unexpected and brutal, that doesn't mean any supernatural powers were in effect." Rommel put down the report and his reading glasses. "Now, what do you have to say? Who is this murderer? He's been able to kill 13 other operatives while disabling their teleported beacons, all with the same wounds, but no weapons. Though similar to our spines scrappers, there's never a sign of the spines themselves. Its like he knew where they were ahead of time and mutilated their bodies to interfere with their connection."

"Oh, you mean the chips in your left boot?"

Rommel glared at Bone. "No."

Bone leaned forward. "I know who you're talking about. But you don't want to know who he is." She lounged again.

Rommel straightened his back. He responded in a tired tone, "Yes bone, we DO want to know he is. He's a threat to everyone, even you villains. We've found bodies of several meta humans involved with heists with the same wounds and same lingering darkness trails."

Bone shrugged her shoulders. "I'll tell you about him. But I won't tell you his name. You'll figure that out on your own. Give you something to do."

Rommel unfolded his laptop for his personal notes. The debriefings were always taped, but this way he'd have something for himself. "How much do you know about this individual?"

The Bone Matriarch, the Skull Mother, the Skeleton Queen gave a wide smile. "Why my dear warden, I know everything. Where should I begin?"

Once again frowning at her smugness, he replied, "At the beginning, if you will."

The Matriarch sighed, and painted a thoughtful look that countered the grim skull that adorned her face. "I first met him in Kings Row, but his story starts in the Rogue Isles. That's where he was born. However he was sent by his mother to his father, who lived in Kings Row." Bone traced little squiggles in the air with her story. The warden typed furiously to keep up with her loosening tongue. He knew once he got her going, she'd never repeat herself. "He lived with his father and his older cousin. In one big house. One of the nicer ones, actually, I've had the honor of cruising its halls once."

Rommel looked up from his screen "You've been to his house? When? What was your affiliation with him?"

Bone winked at him through her blue shades. "When I was Nineteen. He was my… how should I say this?"

Rommel hated her guessing games. "He was your friend?"

"No, no warden, I don't have friends. I have allies. You let friends into the equation and things go horribly wrong. Just ask Bonesnapper. You know my story. Its recorded in the anals of longbow!"

"That's "annuls," bone."

"You heard me."

Rommel sighed. "Continue"

"This was before that whole disaster anyhow, life was good. I never attended school, I was out all night, and I had a horde of bleating sheep bowing before me!" Bone gestured like an empress to an invisible crowd. "That, and I got to hang in an alley most of the day."

Rommel rolled his eyes.

"I was seventeen. I met him when my skull buddies were pushing him around, he was just a scrawny runt back then, but even then he had an otherworldly aura about him. I think he was fourteen, if I remember. Still attended school unlike many youths his age in the 'Row. He stood over a little girl who, I suppose, was the object of my skull friends' fun to begin with. But, he was a brave child, he actually stood his ground to the two of them, who were older than me even, and about a hundred pounds heavier. Ah, they sure did make skulls back in the day. I watched him and he watched me out of the corner of his eye. I wasn't really sure what to make out of that. A kid that young should have been focused on the two goons in front. They pushed and shoved, and taunted him, and suddenly, one yelped with a gash in his hand. I missed what happened myself, but the next thing I knew was that little twig had jumped on the other and was pummeling him in the face with his little muscles. He clung to his torso like a rabid marmoset… or something to that degree. I saw a fury in his eyes that spoke to me. It wasn't the self-righteous anger I see in those damned heroes. I see it in all of the dregs and druggies I consort with. He had been wronged and he needed an outlet. However, though entertaining, I couldn't let him be an example to the other citizens to stand up to us. Therefore, I had to put a stop to this myself. I walked towards the child who instantaneously shot his head back up to focus on me. Underestimating me like so many others, he leaped towards me while the younger girl ran off towards what I assumed was home. He never even got close to me. I had been fighting newbie heroes since I was fifteen, and though I often lost back then, I had fighting down to a carefully constructed dance of pain and misery. Having control of the powers of darkness don't hurt neither, eh?"

Bone gestured in the air, trailing a wavy pattern of inky shadows. She paid special attention to one finger. Harold grumbled. "So of course, I pummeled him into the ground and threw him into a garbage can. Then, I threw the garbage can down the hill. It rebounded several times off of different objects: poles, buildings…people… cars….. What proved my suspicions earlier was that the can wobbled a couple moments later and he popped out dazed and only half conscious. Any normal child wouldn't have been able to survive the trip. While my minions licked their wounds I was strolling through crowds and standing by his limp form. I crouched down and whispered seductively in his ear." Bone gave a quick shrug. "Well, really, anything would be seductive for him. He was a bubbling crock pot full of testosterone and anger, but lets not get into semantics here. I said to him, "If you want another lesson, come back. I'll give you another go, boy." And I'll never forget what he said to me."

The warden, self consciously drawn in to this unusually involved story, asked, "What did he say?"

Bone laughed again. "Bitch!"