Disclaimer: I am the owner of Making Fiends as much as I am a pirate. Wait, if driving illegally without a license is considered piracy…(dun dun dunnnnn) well, I still don't own Making Fiends.

III

Summoned

'Oh my!' Mr Milk cried as the glass shattered. 'I…I'm dreadfully sorry! I'll get you another one.'

Marion waved her hand. 'Don't fret, Mr Milk. You worry far too much!'

'I…I'm just feeling down right now,' he sighed, pushing the pieces of glass aside and putting his head in his hands. 'I thought I'd have a ring by now. For her.'

'I know.' She patted his arm. 'It really takes its toll, being messed up with Vendetta's lot.'

'You had a choice though. You could still get out of it if you wanted.'

Marion shook her head, her headpiece swaying. 'No getting out of it now. It'd be risking my life to leave Mort now, and his. Besides, I want to stick it out til the end, no matter what.

'You're so…so brave.'

'Not really.' Marion shook her head again. 'I just keep praying we'll all survive this life.'

All three of the gangsters stared as the large hamster ambled across the floorboards towards them, a note crushed in his huge paw. He gave a grunt, and slammed it on the table.

For a moment they were silent, unable to do anything but look at the dreaded paper, and then, hands shaking, Malachi picked it up and opened it so they could all see:

I heard of Marvin's efforts regarding the Milk case. He is to come to my suite immediately for work detail.

V

Marvin swallowed, and the mucus stuck in his throat.

Marvin's heart fell to the pit of his stomach as the door closed behind him, and he mechanically followed the giant hamster up a rickety staircase, round a corner, up another. Despite the fact that they were ascending, each floor became darker, until they reached the penthouse.

A large set of bottle-green double doors, bordered by a fiendishly-carved stone archway, dominated the murky area. Marvin swallowed again, and the hamster fiend knocked on the door. His knees knocked. The doors opened a few inches, and his legs trembled across the room, the clack of his shoes against the tiles echoing through the large chamber.

Wasted space, Marvin thought, as a large section of floor was bare, the furnishings grouped all in one place. He dared not raise his eyes, keeping them low. Even the sight of the legs of the couch, and the green shoes of the person occupying it, filled him with fear.

'Marvin!' the Bulgarian accent reached his ears. She was lying across the couch, waiting for his response. He forced himself to look up into her face. Had it not been stained with a malicious motif, she may have been fairly attractive- decent sized features, a rather lovely profile, but if was the evil glint in her eye, the wicked curl of her mouth, the devious slant of her eyebrows, that made Vendetta so unbearable to look at. She had the word 'evil' all but tattooed across herself. This was the first time Marvin had spoken to her up close, as many of her dealings were done through the hamster, who acted as her secretary, security guard and right hand man.

Being this close to Vendetta herself meant only one thing to Marvin- his end was nigh. He hadn't done a god enough job. He'd been brought here to die,

'I am angry, Marvin.'

The words burst forth from his mouth before he could stop them. 'Please! Have mercy! My life! I-I'll do better, I promise! Please! I wanna live!'

Vendetta found this rather amusing, but waved his cries off. 'I am angry, because I have received a most annoying letter.' She thrust the most annoying letter at him, and he took it with a shaking hand and read it.

Dear-etta Vendetta,

I think all your reply letters to me must have gotten lost in the mail! The last time I saw you was when you gave me that present, and I gave you a present of that money back! Or maybe it was when you got me a pretty bomb for my birthday! I think it flew away, because there was a loud bang and it was gone.

Don't forget to write, we are friends, remember? I have told all my friends about the wonderful work you do, and how you are so nice to people by letting them borrow money!

Best friends forever!

Charlotte XXX

'What does all this have to do with me?' he realised too late that his question may be deemed impertinent and could result in severe punishment.

Vendetta's eyes narrowed, but she answered him anyway.

'This girl, this- stupid- girl, was a client of mine a few years ago. Not only is she stupid, she is an imbecile! Did you not read the letter? She has been telling people about me! About this operation! Everything we do! We cannot afford this indiscretion! I could hardly bear her irritating letters every week, every week for the past two years, but this!' she sounded distressed, but as she continued, her voice crawled back behind its smooth, malicious mask. 'So you see, this girl must be stopped. Shemust be destroyed. And you, Marvin…you will be the one to do it.'

The lump in Marvin's heart trebled in size. 'My…me?'

'I have heard of your work on the last few cases- Gumpit, Morris, Milk- you collected the debts efficiently. Now it is time to put you to the test. I don't care how you do it- with a gun, poison, become her friend and lure her into a trap, a knife, I don't care, but wipe the idiotic smile off her face and bring me her head!'

Marvin nodded sycophantically, not daring to speak.

'That is all. Go. The hamster will give you my written instructions.'

He turned towards the doors.

'Oh and Marvin? Need I say that if you fail to carry this out, your head will hang beside hers on above my mantel'.

The firelight suddenly flared, and Marvin turned his head, the split-second image of tortured-looking severed heads on plaques burning onto his brain. Thank goodness he turned away from them before he recognised anyone.

'I've always wanted to put my new fiend to good use.'

A low growl sounded from a dark corner, and he fled, the sound of Vendetta's atrocious laughter ringing in his ears.

Marvin sat up late, using a single candle as his light, studying the thick envelope he had been given. Slitting open the top with his penknife, he shook it, causing the thick stack of papers to land on the table with a thud. He rifled through them.

A description of his soon-to-be victim- her whereabouts, habits, appearance and a photograph he couldn't properly make out in this light. A map, a list of train routes and schedules, and one last threatening letter. He was starting out tomorrow, but he couldn't snatch even a few seconds of sleep, nor did he want to fully read the paperwork just now.

He was about to set out on a mission that could well, no, would certainly, change his life. It would change him, into either a murder victim, or a murderer.

Well. Another chapter up. I know it's such a horrible thing to say, what with all the heads and everything, but I am rather having fun writing this fic. I am already part way through ch4. Yes, Marion is very, very OOC, but I reckon it would be worse if I had tried to use Maggie for that character. Hope you liked!