Boy Scout Syndrome
Tagline: How the hereditary psychiatric disorder of the Cain men screwed with my love life - Jeb
Disclaimer: Don't own. All monies and glory goes to Syfy.
Dr. Nowitall's Manual for Psychiatric Disorders
Boy Scout Syndrome – the personality disorder described as a pervasive pattern of machismo, being extremely preoccupied with exhibiting stereotypical male characteristics, especially physical strength, courage, aggressiveness, lack of emotional response, and practicality.
Most common comorbidity: Hero Complex
Most common subtypes include:*
The Perpetual Volunteer – an individual who feels the compulsion to willingly offer his services without constraint or expectation of reward
The Undying Martyr – an individual compelled to sacrifice him/herself beyond all reason for 'the Cause', whatever that might be
*Frequently referred as the Gluttons for Punishment syndromes
** [Insert Cain men pictures here]
Chapter 1: Laughter, Tears, and Dancing
DG is like the cyclone that brought her to the O.Z. The bards, minstrels, and historians say that she took the world by storm. They're wrong. She is a storm, a fiery, spitfire of a storm.
But not so her sister. The eldest princess is like a creeping vine. She sneaks up on you, worms her way into the nooks and crannies of your soul, grabs hold of your heart and never lets go. Or at least, that's what she did to me.
The first time I saw Azkadellia (not including when I was a boy and she and her deadly entourage passed my family and I on the City's streets as we were leaving town) was when I came to look for my father after the Eclipse.
I had heard her voice, of course, when she instructed the Longcoats over the speakers to stand down and surrender, and I knew what DG had hoped was true about her sister – that she wasn't evil but was possessed by it. None of this, however, prepared me for my first personal encounter with her.
She was standing over the prostrate forms of my father, her sister, the Queen's former advisor, and their Viewer friend in an out of the way room in this giant tower maze of rooms.
Before I could react – draw my gun or knives or make a sound of protest – she raised one slender finger to her lips in a shushing motion and then nodded her head down at the quartet. I followed her gaze and looked again, and what I saw nearly made me laugh.
My father was slumped against the wall with one hand on his gun and his eyes half-open, while the youngest princess was curled up against his side, her dark head resting on his shoulder. The former advisor's head was resting on her thigh as he lay sprawled across the cold floor, limbs akimbo, and the Viewer was curled up at DG's feet. They were all soundly asleep; apparently so worn out by the day's events – no, week's events that they could not be bothered with finding proper beds.
Azkadellia looked up at me (which was surprising in itself, I always expected her to be taller) with an amused twinkle in her dark eyes, and then she extended her hands over them. There was a brief flare of light and then a blanket appeared in her hands. She gently draped that over the Viewer before doing the same with each of the others. A tender expression ghosted her delicate features when she did so for her sister and the Zipper-head.
I nearly laughed again (a record: twice in one evening) when she came to my father. She was extra-cautious with her draping of him. As soon as she let go of the blanket, she jumped and darted a few steps back, never taking her eyes off his gun hand – which only twitched slightly at the sensation of added warmth.
When she saw that I was laughing silently at her (my shoulders were by then shaking), she raised her chin defiantly at me and gave me a stiff and dignified curtsy, before turning on her heels and striding out of the room.
We returned to our separate worlds – her, to her royal suites, and me, to my people at the base of the Tower. We did not cross paths again for many months. I'm sure that was fine for the both of us. I couldn't really handle too much more of my preconceived notions being blown away so soon after those I had already experienced in that one day, and she probably needed whatever scraps of dignity she had left her.
~*~OZ~*~
The second time I had a 'moment' with Azkadellia was some months later.
After the Eclipse, I had been put in charge of a special taskforce to find, not rogue Longcoats, who were a dime a dozen and very disorganized, but their supporters, arms dealers, and the like. This search led my unit and I to the Shadow band, the kings of the Underworld, and the intel gleaned from their lackeys was that their lords and masters had made a deal not only with the Sorceress but with a dastardly devil as well – a Dr. Nikadok.
It's at his personal lab that the two princesses 'graced' my unit and me with their presence.
As an alchemist and known dabbler in the dark arts, it was assumed that Nikadok's lab was magically guarded against intruders, even long after he had abandoned it (someone must have given them advanced warning as there was not a soul in sight), and thus, we needed their assistance.
"Jeb Cain, your father says hello and please don't get blown up."
"DG, I do believe his exact words were: 'Don't blow yourself or my son up, Princess.'"
DG waved her hand dismissively at her sister's teasing, saying breezily, "Oh, there was that too."
And then while Azkadellia and I shared a look of amusement at DG's cavalier attitude, DG said brightly, "Jeb, meet my sister, Az. Az, meet Jeb."
"Hello again, Captain Cain,"she greeted softly.
"Hello, Princess."
"Wait. You've met already?"DG asked, her big blue eyes darting back and forth between us, looking almost disappointed at not witnessing our first encounter.
"Yes, informally…"Azkadellia's eyes danced with mirth, as she smirked at her younger sibling, "…While you were sleeping."
Her answer set the corners of my mouth to twitching, which the highly observant, younger princess noticed. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she began to realize that she was not only missing the joke but also possibly the butt of it.
To redirect her sister's attention, Azkadellia fixed her gaze on the front doors of the lab and said determinedly, "We've got a long day's work ahead of us, Deege. Let's get crackin'."
And so the two of them did. With their hands laced and locked together, they began to hunt down Nikadok's surprises and disarm them. I wasn't sure how exactly they went about doing that, but it seemed that DG supplied the power of their Light while Azkadellia supplied the focus. For hours, the two of them went at it, unlocking and securing the front doors, the office door, the safe, which is where the scientist kept all his records. It's at this point where I wished I had asked them to take a break and assist with perusing the man's data. Maybe then, we – and especially those two – could have been prepared for the discoveries we made.
Once past the Administration floor, we descended into the actual laboratory. The sublevel one floor was dedicated to the creating and testing of things like the Longcoats' sonic stun guns, their tracking devices like the infamous green discs, and what looked to be long-range communication devices via mirrors. Sublevels two through five involved animal experimentation becoming more despicable the lower we went. The last level seemed to be the good doctor's research on pain. The poor damned creatures were so mad and miserable the princesses felt compelled to use their life-giving and -saving Gift for the purpose of mercifully releasing them from their tortured existence.
The sixth sublevel was the truest circle of hell in Nikadok's underworld. The subjects there were not animal but Human (both Big Folk and Munchkin), Viewer, and even Papay, and what was done bears not repeating. The least horror committed was an attempt to make humans as empathic as Viewers via alchemy's brain removal and second-sight suckers. All these subjects had been terminated before the vile shit of a man had abandoned his facility.
As soon as Azkadellia and DG gave this level the all clear, the former Sorceress fled to the surface. I soon followed, only delaying my departure to assign a guard, with a much stronger stomach than I, to DG.
Azkadellia was not hard to find as she was sitting on the porch swing of this 'ranch house.' I took up a post by the swing's side, scanning the plains before us and the clear blue skies above us, anything to distract my mind from the images below. She was so quiet and still that I nearly forgot she was there until her breath hitched as she tried to stifle a tiny sob.
Seeing the tears slipping down her very vulnerable looking face, I asked hesitantly, "Princess?"
Apparently my voice was the impetus she needed for her self-possessed guard to slip back into place, because her expression immediately shuttered as she snapped, "Oh Captain, sit down. If we are to commiserate in our misery together, please, do not literally stand on formality."
Resisting the urge to snap back with something like 'I ain't the one talking all formal-like with high-falutin' words, am I now?' I silently did as she bid.
Once I appeared comfortable and lax, (I can assure you, I was anything but, as her presence was still disconcerting to me at this point), she whispered, "I thought I had seen every evil there was under the suns, with the Witch."
Not knowing what to say, I asked, "So this isn't of her doing?"
She shook her head, "I have no memory of such projects," and then even more quietly, she added, "And believe me, she would have enjoyed torturing me with every excruciating detail of his progress reports."
I said nothing in response, and at the time I felt like a dolt. But now I realize there really is nothing that one can say to something like that, to someone who has gone through that without sounding doltish.
Finally, she said, "I don't know who is behind this, but I do know someone who would know."
"And he would be?"
"Vy-sor," she replied, momentarily pausing before elaborating, "The Witch's right hand man. He was always one to have his fingers and nose in every pie."
"And this Vy-sor, could he be behind this?"
"He could," she admitted, and then she stood up with a sigh, before turning to face me for the first time since I had come out there, asking, "Tell me, Jeb Cain, son of the Mystic Man's hand-picked tin man. What would your father do in this investigation?"
I thought about it, but then shrugged, "I don't know, but I would follow the money."
"Then that's what we shall do."
Her composure restored, the eldest princess of the O.Z. headed back in to assist in the extremely boring task of financial paperwork slogging.
~*~OZ~*~
After that afternoon spent in futile detective work (all that was discovered of Nikadok's patron were his references to him as 'the Man behind the Curtain'), I didn't see Azkadellia until nearly a month later. It was a far more festive and joyous occasion however – the Queen's birthday party.
It was a big to-do. Nobles from all over, the Central City mayor and his family, Guild leaders, Resistance leaders, such as myself, my father, and Raw, were there, and all congregated in the ball room of Finaqua Palace spilling out into the gardens.
The Queen held court upon the dais, occasionally dancing with her husband or the favored quest. The Consort did the same with the addition of dancing with his daughters as well. His youngest spent her time alternating between dancing with whoever asked and trying to coax my father out onto the dance floor. I suspected he was just saying no in order to see what she would say or do next to persuade him to say that one yes. The twinkle in his eyes every time he shook his head was the biggest clue I had to go on however, so I could have been wrong.
I observed all this from the sidelines. Most of the people I cared to socialize with had sensibly declined the invitation and stayed home with their friends and families. I would have done the same except… One, like I said, my father was there. And two, I had just received orders to report to the Queen's advisory council in Central City three days from then, which means I'd have been faced with seeing the Queen's and (more frighteningly) DG's disappointed eyes filled with questions as to why I had declined. 'It's not my thing' really wouldn't have been seen as a valid excuse.
Anyways, it was from this vantage point that I was able to observe Azkadellia. She wore a form-fitting yet flowing dress of white and pale purple. She danced once with her father, a few of her parents' contemporaries, and she was now on her second dance with Lord Ambrose. He must have said something amusing because she laughed her third genuine laugh of the evening. It was a surprisingly throaty chuckle for one so tiny. I always expect it to be tinkly or something dainty like that.
As she passed me by, she flashed me a small smile before she was whorled away by 'Twinkly-Toes.' It was the fifth genuine smile she had bestowed on anyone that evening.
Now I realize that I sound like a stalkerish, love-struck boy. But for the record, I'm not. What I am is a very observant individual. For instance, General Omby was on his eighth glass of champagne, and he chugged those back every time his wife made bedroom eyes at his brother Lord Amby.
What I also am is fascinated. Who wouldn't be though? She doesn't act like one would expect a former host of an evil parasitic witch to act. She isn't a frail, fractured mind, a victim. She isn't the triumphant princess either. She's…She's something else. And until I can put a name to it, I'll probably continue to watch her.
It was this fascination which drove me to approach her after Lord Ambrose left her to pay his respects to the Southern Guild. She was standing by herself, although nearby was a group of her contemporary peers. Her head was held high and she looked completely composed. Perhaps, it was her utter stillness, but it dawned on me then that if she didn't have to deal with the same consequences as I, she would be like me and be anywhere but there.
"Your Highness, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" I asked as a waltz was struck up by the orchestra.
She gave me a small curtsy and gracefully extended her hand to me in reply, a small smile peeking at the corners of her lips.
As I pulled her into me, I noticed that she was at the perfect height to surreptitiously whisper in her ear, "And maybe afterwards a stroll in the gardens? Where I can loosen my tie and you can take off those most likely uncomfortable heels?"
Before she spun away, she answered, "The pleasure would definitely be mostly mine, Captain."
We danced in semi-comfortable silence after that, a silence which extended until we reached a partially secluded and out of the wind section of the garden. Upon sitting on the stone bench in the little alcove, she looked up at me with the tiniest of smirks, dryly observing, "You can only have two reasons to have lured me on my lonesome, Captain." At my raised eyebrows and questioning gaze she stated, "Either you are here to execute an assassination plot or you are attempting to start an assignation in secret with your royal princess."
"Those can be my only two reasons, Princess?"
Brushing at her skirt, she stated neutrally, "Well, they are the traditional reasons, I believe, for these circumstances."
I chuckled at that, "Traditionalist, I am not." Seeing that she was expecting a more explanatory response, I obliged, confessing, "I needed a breather and I figured you did too…and I'm hoping if your sister sees us being friendly-like she won't scold either of us for being 'party poopers.'"
She stared at me wide-eyed for three whole seconds before bursting out into laughter, which she quickly attempted to stifle, but her chuckles continued to interrupt her explanation, "Who would have…thought that the Great Jeb C…Cain, fierce Resistance leader…would be scared of the good…sister…and would use…the former evil Sorceress as…as a buffer…?"
Shifting my feet uncomfortably, I grumbled, "Clearly no one who has witnessed her dressing down the Great Tin Man."
She tilted her head in assent. She had not been there for that, but she had no doubt heard of it. DG had taken all of three days of 'your Highnesses' and decorous behavior from her friend before she had put her foot down and told him where he could shove his proper behavior.
"I'll take the formality and stiffness from strangers but not from my friends and that means you, Wyatt freaking Cain! So you can take your 'appropriateness' and shove it right along with that abnormally large stick that's up your $$!" She had insisted with frightening regality, if not civility.
My father wisely ceased to follow the dictates of decorum since – even instigating a hug or two of his own every once in a while.
Tilting her head up, so that she could gaze at the stars, she whispered, "I'll protect you from the big bad princess, Captain – for a price… You have to save me from the mayor's son, who is a very … energetic dancer."
"Deal," I readily agreed. What can I say? I am a disciple of pragmatism. I didn't survive the Dark Annuals by being too proud to hide behind a willing lady's skirts.
Fixing my own gaze on the wintry night sky, I asked, "So which of these is the Other-side sun?"
She went on to paraphrase Lord Ambrose's answer when she herself had asked that question, and eventually we were able to find it ourselves. But not before she had to cast a warming spell on the air around us to keep our noses and ears from being turned blue.
Once we did return to the party, we were immediately pounced upon by the Consort and the Princess; Lord Ahamo, for another dance with his daughter, and a suspicious glance for me, and DG, for an Inquisition with me. This carried on so long (since she tried to be uncharacteristically sneaky about it) that I nearly wasn't able to keep my promise and save Azkadellia from the mayor's son. As it was, I had to cut in.
By the end of the evening, I somehow found myself to be a semi-friend of Princess Azkadellia. I'm still uncertain as to whether that had to do with what was said or what was unsaid.
Maybe it was a little of both.
