Prologue: The Darkest of Nights

The corridor in which Razoul walked had always managed to bring dread to his core, even if it was well past his hundredth time doing so. The hallway was long, but narrow, almost claustrophobically so, with a dark crimson coat of paint and lights dim enough to make it feel like the walls wanted to swallow you whole. But alas, for poor Razoul, he was forced to walk this path, for at the end lay a majestic, if not sinister door, the lair of his boss. He tentatively reached for the polished brass knob, but stopped just shy of opening it, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard. He shut his eyes, the heat that emanated from the room, coupled with his fear, causing sweat drop to roll down his forehead. He found what little courage he had and grasped the doorknob. It was warm, almost as if it had been recently used, but he knew that was not true, but it did little to soothe his rising despair. He opened the door and stepped inside, quickly shutting it and turning to face his master. The room itself was as equally as despairing as the hall, with the same crimson paint and equally, if not dimmer lighting. There were a few pillars that dotted the walls, each with their own golden trim, and brass candles adorning each, their flames dancing in chaos. The room smelled sweet, a faint cloud of smoke hung in the air, the smell of burning tobacco lingering. The source, an ornate hookah, which sat next to an equally ornate black desk, was still lit. At the desk, which held sparse, but expensive looking trinkets, was a chair whose back faced Razoul, occasional puffs of smoking escaping its occupant's mouth. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, the voice spoke, a smooth, yet sinister one.

"You are late."

Razoul swallowed, finding himself compelled to kneel to the voice. Instead he merely kept his composure as best he could.

"My apologies sir, but th-"

A thin bony hand appeared from the side of the chair, ordering him to silence himself, which Razoul complied.

"I don't want your excuses."

The red silk chair swiveled around to face him, its occupant revealed in full. The man was tall, but thin, sporting a long moustache which curled around his face and drooped down to become a twisted beard, the only hair on his head, save for his rather large and curved eyebrows. His skin was dark, almost tanned, though the blackout curtains would indicate that the sun barely reached the man's skin. He wore a black three piece suit that sported thin red stripes, a red dress shirt beneath, and a yellow tie that was held in place by a small golden scarab tie tack. His hands were folded together, and he gave Razoul a sigh of annoyance.

"Well go on, what is it?"

Razoul swallowed, his collar becoming far too tight.

"It's Gazeem sir. He's been arrested."

He winced as he saw his master's nostrils, flair, and his hands swiftly unclasping and slamming down onto the desk.

"WHAT?! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GET CAUGHT!?"

He reached to the side, retrieving a golden cane that sported an ominous open mouthed cobra with ruby eyes. He stood up, though he did not lean on the cane as a support. He pointed the mouth at Razoul, but after a few tense seconds, he lowered it and returned to his seat. Razoul released a breath he was unaware he was holding, and watched as his employer took the hookah and inhaled deeply. As he let out a long breath of smoke, his mood seemed to relax. After another minute of silence, he began to rub his right temple.

"It matters not I suppose, he was obviously less than worthy. I suppose this means I have to speed up my plans, and in turn, the plans which involved him have come to an end. He did deliver the package yes?"

Razoul nodded, fumbling around his pockets until he retrieved a golden scarab, a larger version of the tie tack his superior wore. He handed it to him, the eyes of his employer growing wide with greed as he snatched it up. He held it up to what little light the room held, a faint, and almost mystical sheen was given off by the trinket.

"Yes… Most excellent. Now then, Gazeem is now a liability, and I want him silenced before he spills his guts to the police. So I want you to spill his guts for him… All over that dingy cell floor. Have I made myself clear? Or… Do you need a sample of what failing me means?"

He raised his cane once more, but Razoul needed no example, and instead began to vigorously nod his head as he spoke, his words a fumbled mess.

"Yes sir! I mean no sir! I mean… I shall do as you asked."

The man smirked as he lowered his cane.

"Good… Make sure him, nor can the crime be linked to me. Now get out of my sight, I have business to attend to."

Razoul nodded and swiftly made his way out, which, before he could exit, a small man came in. He had red hair in a mess, though no facial hair, and wore a surprisingly colourful red, blue, and yellow outfit, one that could only be described as tropical. On most it looked fruity, but on Iago it seemed to work. Razoul gave the man a nod as he made his retreat back to the elevator, watching as the door closed behind him.

Iago turned to his master, eyeing the golden scarab with the same greedy lust. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and high pitched, a stark contrast to his employer.

"We have it?"

The man grinned as he stroked his beard.

"Indeed we do. Now, did you bring me what I asked?"

Iago nodded, placing the small black device on the table before stepping back.

"Thank you Iago. Now, I must make a call, if you'd be so kind as to step out?"

Iago nodded, then made a hasty exit, shutting the door behind him. The sole occupant looked down, pressing a button on his desk that caused the whole surface to light up. He tapped a few buttons, swiped a few screens, and then sat back in his chair. The surface went dark, then a light appeared from the center, opening up into a hologram projector. The screen remained white for a few moments before it flicked to life, a woman appearing on the screen. She was as bony as he, though the difference was her skin was an almost pale green. Her eyes were sharp, as were her cheeks and nose, and when she spoke, there was a certain elegance of a long forgotten age.

"Jafar, a pleasure as always."

Jafar nodded, knowing only his face was being projected back.

"Maleficent, the pleasure is all mine. I trust the others will be joining us shortly?"

She nodded, and as if to emphasize her point, a second screen appeared, this time an African man appeared. He had long black hair, and goatee of the same dark lustre which length could almost rival Jafar's. On his left eye lay a large gash, one that somehow managed to enhance the greens of his iris'. He gave both of current occupants a nod before speaking, his tone a deep, melodious British accent.

"Good evening."

Jafar and Maleficent gave a nod of acknowledgement, though only Jafar gave a verbal reply.

"Scar, good evening to you as well. I trust the hunt has been going well?"

Scar smirked and nodded.

"Of course, those mangy mutts are far too eager to hunt, making my tasks much easier. But we can save the pleasantries for later, I believe we have business to attend to."

"Yes, of course, but we are still waiting for-"

"Jaffy, my friend!"

Jafar sighed at the nickname as a new pair of new screens appeared, the first, which was the source of the swift and almost slimy voice, being a man of imposing stature, with a long chin and skin of a grey tone. His hair was odd, the grey dyed to the point of being an almost blueish tinge, and his teeth were, though clean and straight, a bit more pointed than normal. The second was a rotund woman whose white hair reminded Jafar of that disgusting soft serve ice cream that most junk food places sold. Her skin was also a strange tone, hers purplish in tinge, and he now had no doubts that Ursula, Hades, and Maleficent all had cybernetic implants, ones that gave them extraordinary abilities, but as it seemed, at the cost of some skin and hair abnormalities. He had guessed at first, but he decided for the sake of niceties, he would refrain from commenting. However, his suspicions were confirmed as Hades took a cigar into his mouth, then, using his finger and thumb, created a flame as if his thumb were a lighter. The flame itself was blue, and he wondered if that was a by-product, or if it was simply a choice that they could make.

"Good Evening Hades. You as well Ursula. Now then, who, exactly, are we waiting for?"

Maleficent did a quick count.

"It appears we are missing James, Cruella, Grimhilde, Facilier, and our benefactor."

Ursula gave a huff at the mention of their benefactor.

"Hmph, doesn't say much, does he?"

Maleficent rolled her eyes.

"Maybe, but he's also the one who organized and funded this, so I have nothing else to say about the subject."

Before Ursula could continue, three more screens appeared, the first being what appeared to be a man of the seafaring nature. That, or whatever was rocking his home was very chaotic. He wore ridiculous wide brimmed hat which held an even more ridiculous feather, though none dared to question, as it wasn't any of their business anyways. He had long black hair that waved and curled, along with a thin pencil moustache that extended past his cheeks. He reached up and scratched his chin stubble with his left hand, revealing a mechanical hook like appendage, which disappeared as he lowered it. The second screen was another man, he too another African, though when he greeted them, a southern drawl could be heard. He also had a pencil thin moustache, though his wrapped and curled around his lips instead. When he smiled, there was a small gap between his two front teeth, which gave a simultaneous feeling of friendliness and smarmy. The last was the fashion mogul known as Cruella De Ville, known for being a ruthless and near tyrannical CEO. She had hair that was split neatly in half between white and black, along with bony features. Though the camera could only pick up hair and face, the background of her image showed a mass of fur, no doubt from one of her coats. It was once more Maleficent who spoke, and as it went, appeared to be their leader in their affairs.

"Excellent. Now all we need is Grimhilde and our benefactor, and our little circle will be complete."

The others, as they waited, talked idly, or rather, Ursula and Cruella talked while the others kept to themselves. James was fiddling with his device, not really use to such new equipment, while Scar seemed utterly bored with the situation, one hand used as a support for his cheek, the other drumming uninterestedly on what they presumed as a desk. After another few moments, a screen arrived, a woman's face appearing. She was a middle aged woman by all appearances, but even Jafar could not deny there was a certain beauty to her that many lacked. She wore quite a bit of makeup, the blush on her cheeks and the sheen of lipstick unmistakable, and she said nothing to the assembled members, only fiddling with a hand held mirror. Jafar, however, knew that, despite her vanity, Grimhilde was not only a member of the current presiding royal families, but also a very powerful woman. It was for those reasons none dared to question her tardiness, nor toss a callous remark at her for fiddling with cosmetics.

"And so we wait for a benefactor. How quaint."

It was Scar who spoke, his tone indicating he was bored to tears. James growled and slammed his fist on the table, the sudden rocking of his screen and the sound indication of that.

"Blast it, where is he? This be the third time we've had to wait for the blig-"

James stopped abruptly as the final screen appeared, his face turning slightly pale, for he had no desire to insult their benefactor. The screen remained black, the usual, as they had only ever communicated by voice with him, assuming there wasn't a voice changer in use. However, much to their collective surprise, a pair of yellow eyes emerged from the darkness, followed by the distinct voice. It was like a cold air had swept through every room as he spoke, his tone harsh, though it was not directed. Rather, it was like a man who had seen too much in his lifetime, and was far too bitter and jaded to speak to people with ease. It was a deep voice too, one that, with a little increase in volume, would have shaken the room.

"Good Evening my fellows. At last, we are here. And, as it were, I have found the final three members of our inner circle, bringing us to thirteen."

Jafar quirked an eyebrow, surprised more were being added to the mix. He had been given little details, his involvement, much like the others, done by way of an invitation, with promise of wealth and their wildest dreams. Jafar was a man who preferred to find such invitations to be folly, but he found himself compelled to answer the call, and was indeed rewarded for doing so to the tune of 15 million credits, along with the first six who also answered. He could have left too, but the promise of riches and rewards was far to enticing, and here he was now. Yet for all the reward, he had no real idea what was required of them. The only instructions they were given were to retrieve a few important items, though their benefactor failed to mention their true significance. However, Jafar knew what he held was in fact the key to the vaults of Agrabah, for he still served the 'Sultan', a fat pompous man who became CEO of the Agrabah industries corporation, no doubt due to his linage. Alas the man was an utter fool, and Jafar was more or less the true power behind the company. However, he wondered what, exactly, they required the key for, seeing as the reward he was given was quite a large sum, so the idea of stealing credits seemed unnecessary. He vaguely heard Ursula mumbling about the idea of an inner circle, but was silenced by a noise from their benefactor. They heard the sound of a button being pressed, and the three aforementioned members appeared on their own screens. The first was a young man, no later than his mid-twenties. He had a full head of black hair, and his features were chiseled, much like a statute of Grecian myth. He had a self-assured smirk on his lips, no doubt finding himself to be important to everyone around him, but luckily he said nothing. The second was a woman everyone in the group recognized as the Queen of Hearts, another royal, much like Grimhilde. However, unlike her, the Queen of Hearts was a fat pompous woman, one whose face barely fit into the screen. She seemed to have a perpetual scowl on her face, but said nothing as well. The last, however, disturbed Jafar, which was by no means an easy feat. It was a large man, or what he presumed was a man, wearing on his face what appeared to be a hooded mask made of burlap. He imagined there should have been eyes or a mouth, but there only appeared to be darkness beneath the cut outs where those should have been. But what disturbed Jafar was the fact it looks like the man's skin was crawling, as if there were bugs underneath. Jafar eyed the others, and all seemed to be as disturbed as he, save for their benefactor. However, the burlap man spoke up, his voice a heavy one laced with a slight southern drawl.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

He gave a harsh laugh, throwing his head back, revealing even more burlap. A few shuddered, but order was maintained by the sudden noise that garnered everyone's attention. They all focused on their benefactor.

"Good, we're all here. And now that I have your attention, I feel it's time to let you all in on what is going on."

Most waited patiently, but a Scar, Hades, James and Ursula looked unimpressed.

"I think before we continue any further, I'd like to know exactly for whom we all speak to."

The other malcontents nodded at Scar's comment, and all eyes turned to face their benefactor, all agreeing, though only the malcontents voicing concerns. Their benefactor sighed, his eyes closing slightly, but they could see the outline of his head shaking in defeat.

"I suppose you are correct. Very well, allow me to introduce myself."

There was a faint movement off to the side, and they heard the click before the lamp turned on. As soon as their mysterious benefactor's face was revealed, every single person, save for the recently introduced young man, gasped at their patron's identity. Cruella raised a finger to the screen, pointing it towards the camera.

"You're-"

The man smirked, his camera wider, revealing himself sitting at a desk.

"Yes, I am Vice President Bog, and the reason I have gathered you all here… Well… It's because I think I would like a promotion."