A moment of nervousness was usually predicted. That was the highest risk. Getting seen and caught could be dealt with, hiding physical evidence just as easy. The last part is simple, cleaning up the mess.

But before you can clear up the messy bits, you have to make the mess.

On the field, you are not allowed to have second thoughts. When a man spends years in such thorough tutelage, he does not start considering on his first assignment the moral complexities of slitting a person's throat for money. They spent years teaching you how to fight it, the bloody damned human nature and moral compass. In essence, you learned how to think. You could learn how to get past a squadron of armed men in a week. But learning to kill is only half of learning how to assassinate.

When a man dons the black and straps the knife to his belt, he is not a man anymore.

Of course, a sharp blade is not the only weapon they give you. Slit throats are indeed traditional and somewhat reliable, but conspicuous and untidy. You save the knife till last.


He had his eyes closed, sitting in the very center of the cell with his legs hugged to his chest. He felt violently nauseous, a remnant side effect of the electrification. He could almost feel his blood moving sluggishly through his veins, while his head seemed as if it was cracking open bit by bit.

On days like this, Mandarin wished he was dead.

The aftertaste of blood was still on his tongue. There was a very unhappy guard somewhere out there, and that at least gave purpose to his existence, however senseless that purpose was. Existence didn't mean much anymore. He could feel the dried blood from his own hand between his teeth, bitter and smelling of- Well, Mandarin couldn't quite place it. A prisoner's mind forgets easily.

His left hand had stopped twitching, at least.

The hairs on his tail stiffened without warning. Cautiously, Mandarin raised his head and sniffed the air. His eyesight was still as acute as it had been a year ago, and never leaving your prison cell gave you a heightened sense of local goings-on. Something was out of place on this day.

There was no one anywhere near the door. No one had come in after the guard who had brought his food. The monkey swept his gaze across the floor. No shadows on the ground. His back arched a little, the bone plates grinding in protest. Fighting in wars felt very far away.

The grid was down. The bars weren't charged. Subtle, but extremely important. The monkey's brain was hit by a barrage of excited thoughts, his tail flicking back and forth in agitation.

There was more than one door directly outside Mandarin's cell. He supposed he should be flattered; they thought him to be deserving of high security. A clear wall of Perspex (Shuggazoomian scientist Milo Criv had changed the definition of 'plastic compound' by fusing together five different plastics for ultimate strength...Perspex was never the same after that, and Mandarin was often heard cursing the man's name) with air holes at the top and a flap down the bottom for food rations to come through, two meters of empty space, then a portcullis. Who knew what the broad, crisscrossing bars were made of; a fool mixes a few metals together and thinks he's a god for coming up with it. It looked archaic.

Perhaps that was a good thing. There was a narrow door in the lattice, secured only by an old-fashioned lock. So technologically primitive, it baffled even the most skilful of burglars.

Following the bars were more security measures. Thick doors that only opened after valid passwords, identity scans and swipe cards. Then there was a hallway, merely one length in a maze. The chances of finding the exit would be slim.

But Mandarin could worry about that later on. He had eyes only for the bars beyond the clear wall. They were usually charged with electricity to prevent him from picking the lock (if he ever reached it), and the guards had to turn it off to get food to him. The bars weren't charged now. He could tell. The air was heavy, dead. The atmosphere was stifling, and that only flared Mandarin's impatience to escape.

The partition of Perspex stood in the way. The wall had sensors placed in it; whenever the monkey tried to claw his way through a spurt of gas would seep into the room, or a hidden gun would shoot a beam of high voltage electricity at him. The guards occasionally changed the cartridge; they figured the bony little prisoner would want some variety. The wall sported a few broad scratches, but not many.

Up high in a corner, a closed eye slept. Mandarin destroyed the camera on his first day and was rather proud of that feat, and no man or woman dared to go in and replace it. They just hid the guns neatly away.

Mandarin had to take that chance now. This was an opportunity not to be ignored. If he failed, he failed. Things couldn't get any worse. He rose to his feet, crawling lithely on all fours to the wall. The monkey locked his gaze onto a small area of the plastic, taking in every detail. What lay behind the wall blurred in the monkey's vision, until he brought his right arm back for a swipe, gritted his teeth together until his jaw ached.

There was the thin shriek of his black claws against the plastic, then a mechanical whir as one of the guns gathered power.

Its aim was impeccable.

Mandarin turned his head in time to watch the beam splat against the Milo Criv's SuperPerspex. Liquid ice today, he thought. The faint memory of a fortress of some kind stirred, but the monkey shoved it away. He didn't have time for this.

His back ached from the hasty sideward tumble he had made, but it was better than getting frozen. There was a large, rough circle of paled plastic. Squinting, the monkey could see tiny spears of ice on the surface.

There was nothing left to do but to hit it very, very hard.

Almost unconsciously, the monkey's left hand slipped into its other form. Sparing only a cursory glance at the bulbous claw, Mandarin thrust it forward explosively. A warrior's thrust, a small remnant of his forgotten prowess. Cracks spread across the glassy expanse, like a spider's web growing before his eyes. Then the shards fell to the ground with a discordant tinkling. The first of fortifications had failed.

It had been a long time since Mandarin had grinned so wickedly.

Seconds were running to waste. Guards could come in at any moment. The monkey went on all fours and bounded over the shards. The cosmos would hear a loud shout indeed if the bars were suddenly charged again...

Mandarin slowed as he neared the bars. The air did not fizzle with energy; there was still time. This situation required careful thinking and careful actions. His thin tail arched upwards. With a glint in his eye, Mandarin turned his back to the door. He breathed in once, twice, and set to work.

The thin spike at the end of his tail stabbed into the keyhole. Mandarin closed his eyes in concentration. The muscles in his tail moved with subtlety and strength. The tool had to be thin enough, be in the right place... The monkey barely breathed his heartbeat slowing until he could hardly sense it. Mandarin ignored the headache. Even with his eyes shut he could sense the position of every tiny mechanism inside the lock. It was truly ancient in design. Perhaps he really was lucky.

Bone against metal. The armor of his body against the prison's defenses.

There was a quiet click as the lock in the door yielded, and the bony spike at the tip of Mandarin's tail was never taken for granted again.

Fate is in my favor today.

A sound of grinding metal pierced through the monkey's silence, and a loud, rough voice shouting, "Shit!"

The simian pushed at the door, scurrying past the bars as the hinges squealed in protest. Two down. A guard stood between him and the final obstacle, the two heavy doors requiring passwords and swipe cards available only to the prison guards.

They were both open.

The guard had his right forearm in a white bandage, dotted with red.

The smile that crept onto the monkey's face was not a particularly pleasant one, by his standards. Yes, Mandarin thought gleefully. They are indeed in my favor.

"No way. This cell in inescapable! Inescapable!" He spread his legs apart, attempting to block the doorway. Mandarin expected the door to slide closed, but it didn't. He could see the corridor through it. Freedom stared him in the face.

"Get back in your cell, freak. I'll take it easy on you. There'll be more guys here in seconds and it'd look better if you were behind that door."

Mandarin took a moment to note –with some satisfaction- that the man was talking completely illogical gibberish.

Fool. Babbling, idiotic fool.

The man's face twisted into an expression of loathing, but Mandarin detected a flicker of fear in his eyes. The fear grew as the guard watched the monkey crouch on all fours, slightly resembling a cat in his preparation to pounce, then dart forwards, running head on at him. The tazer at his belt felt suddenly heavy, a reminder to his panicked mind- He reached for it desperately.

Mandarin had been planning to swerve to the side and sprint past the guard's legs from the right, but with some shock saw the man abruptly collapse backwards. The thud of his body was a dull, muted one. The tazer clattered to the ground, the sound reverberating loudly in the small room. Maybe he had stunned himself with it. He was truly more stupid than Mandarin had expected.

Without slowing the monkey leapt clear over the fallen form, claws clicking against the slick floor beyond. Primal adrenaline surged through Mandarin's limbs, the breath whistling through his lungs. His left crab-like claw made him unbalanced and he bumped against the opposite wall as he tried to turn down the hallway outside his cell. No time to change it back...

The collision with the wall had been hard, however. Pain exploded from his shoulder and spots appeared in his vision. Mandarin hadn't had much exercise in the past months. With considerable shame he acknowledged in a corner of his mind that he had weakened. The monkey scuttled along the wall for a few meters, breath hissing between his teeth. No guards poured from the doors in the hallway. It was deserted, save for the small monkey dragging himself along the narrow hallway, gradually accumulating speed.

Amid the shadows, a glitter of deep purple caught Mandarin's eye as he crawled. It was lying flat on the ground. A dark jewel set in a black pendant. The dim lights illuminated the large stone. It gleamed at him.

It was swiped for with the claw. Within moments it was gripped between the fugitive's pointed teeth, running along the corridors of the prison.

An unseen specter grinned maliciously. "Finally."

At the entrance to Mandarin's cell, the guard on the ground coughed once softly, and then was quiet.


The man put his gun back in its holster and nodded admiringly at his own work. Those new bullets were good. Not that he'd ever admit it to the inventor; he'd never hear the end of it. But the new bullets were pretty useful. No one would ever find it and trace it. If they didn't examine the body, they wouldn't even realize that the guard had been shot. Invisible bullets, he had nick-named them. The one he had fired had melted away in the flesh. There wasn't even that much blood, but he would wipe the floor just in case. It's a matter of principal.

In addition, his aim had been flawless. As usual.

On second thought, he wouldn't clean the blood off the floor. The body looked better where it lay. It would seem as if the monkey had taken the guard out himself. There was a rather convenient scratch on his cheek, where one of the spikes on the monkey's tail had presumably grazed him. They'd notice the fierce red line before the hole in the back of the jacket.

Job well done.

The figure stole back into the hallway, looking left and right. No other guards. Obviously. With long, purposeful strides he made his way back to the location he had chosen. Who knew if the monkey came this way, and it wasn't a job well done until the last stage was completed.

In the privacy of his own mind, the assassin wondered who had asked the job to be done. He was never told the identity of the client until after the job had been finished, but this was one of the strangest assignments he had had in years. No, it was definitely the strangest. Help a little monkey out of jail? And then there was that little necklace he had been given...

The figured slowed his pace, coming to a stop at the precise location he remembered putting it down.

The black amulet was gone.

Squatting, the man could see where the monkey had stopped, where his hand had picked it up. It looked more like a long claw of some kind, though...

Job well done, he thought to himself. And with a ruffle of his coat, he left the prison silently.


Mandarin began to slow as the adrenaline wore off. He finally stopped completely, both having spent most (if not all) of his energy and concerned that the clicking of his claws on the cold floor would draw attention to his escape efforts. Still no guards. No alarms. The doors he passed were closed. In fact, Mandarin had never seen any other inmates. Was he, like in the HOOP, the only prisoner?

But flattery had little effect on the sad figure these days.

His small chest was heaving. He allowed the amulet to fall from his mouth onto the floor as he knelt on his knees and panted. The monkey stared into the gem of the pendant as he did so, half expecting a face to appear inside it as it had over a year ago.

Nothing but blackness and emptiness stared back at him.

The simian rolled over so he was leaning against the wall, gingerly picking up the amulet to examine it. Confusion seeped into his already aching mind. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't understand why the object had been simply lying on the floor of the prison. Likewise, he couldn't figure out what had possessed him to pick it up.

The pendant flashed suddenly, a line of light moving across its facets, causing the monkey to jump and throw the cursed item away from him. It slid across the ground, scraping loudly against the metal.

The amulet glinted on the ground, and the sense of terrible foreboding that rose within the monkey was almost enough to make him quake in horrified reverence. Despite this, he was unable to take his eyes off the trinket.

A faint whisper suddenly brushed his ear. A breath, a susurration on the border of comprehension. Mandarin's head snapped up, his eyes turning into slits as he anxiously glanced from side to side as he searched for whatever had murmured to him. Nothing but silence met his efforts. He was completely alone. Red pupils traversing up and down the corridor, Mandarin saw no other life. It was as if a hand had swept the pieces off the chessboard, and all that remained was a single piece.

That piece was Mandarin, but his path was not yet known.

Sound slipped into his acute hearing once again, and this time Mandarin visibly tensed as he furiously searched the surrounding area for the culprit. The noise was low, like the hiss of a snake, but incoherent words seemed to lie just beneath the whisper.

The monkey closed his eyes in an attempt to locate the sound by ear alone. The hiss grew louder and boomed through his head, terrifyingly intense. His eyes shot open again.

A shiver threatened to creep up and down his spine.

The undead simian gradually began to grasp where the noise was coming from, and froze. The monkey slowly turned his head to look directly in front of him, and his mouth went dry.

It was coming from the amulet.

"…the pit…"

Mandarin didn't dare breathe as words suddenly became noticeable. The terrible object began to glow. The pale light it produced seemed ice cold; yet the wall behind and the floor around it blackened, overcome by darkness.

"…Go to the pit…"

A vague shadow seemed to flow up from the dark gem. It took on a vaguely human shape. It had no eyes to speak of, but Mandarin knew it was looking directly at him. The shade slowly extended what appeared to be its arm, outstretching its finger and beckoning for the monkey to come closer.

"Come…"

Every bone in the simian's thin frame was telling him to run as far away as he could get from the evil pendant and whatever the creature coming out of it was. What added to the monkey's earlier confusion, however, was that he wasn't running away.

He was creeping towards it.

The pull was unbreakable. The shadow-creature hovered menacingly over the pendant, the whisper still barely audible, but still clearly there; still piercing the silence…

"…to the pit…"

Mandarin fought desperately to regain control of himself as his hand reached for the amulet…

"Take me to the pit…"

The simian's claws wrapped around the medallion, and his whole body jerked and tensed before finally going limp. The life in the monkey's eyes dulled as he exhaled shakily.

"Take me…"

The monkey then continued his way down the hall. But this time, he had no choice. This time…he was being led. Those two words of the creature's command echoed and repeated themselves in his brain, a smoldering brand on Mandarin's consciousness. Take me, take me, take me, take me...

In a place that didn't exist, with an old, crumbling house, one lone man cackled maniacally.


The stars should have gleamed that night. The sky was completely clear, but for some reason the stars refused to twinkle down at the inhabitants of Shuggazoom. To the citizens, it was simply a strange abnormality; something that would be noticed and forgotten. To someone else, it was a sign.

A skeletal monkey sped through the outskirts of Shuggazoom, having long escaped the maze of hallways in the prison. But Mandarin's mind was in a haze. He had the feeling of one who had awoken partially from sleep, when part of the dream had collided and meshed into the real world, and it was impossible to tell the two apart. The simian found in his foggy state of mind that it was just as impossible to be sure if he was having a nightmare or actually running. His vision blurred in his dream-like state, as did his thoughts and feelings, making him feel dazed and bleary.

"Keep looking…"

Like everything else, Mandarin wasn't sure if the voice that spoke to him –commanded him- was a reality or a figment of his imagination. He slowed to a pause, sniffing the air for what he was looking for, and, catching a scent, (which seemed strangely familiar to the monkey, even if everything else in his world was obscured and unfocused) continued on his way.

The desert, scattered with sharp rocks, sped under his paws. The simian travelled across the rough terrain a while longer before stopping abruptly. Not that he had a choice…

Mandarin was standing on the edge of the Pit of Doom.

He then slowly began his descent.


The witch stirred from her semi-unconscious state. The night previous she had spent shrieking until her mind fled to the void, unable to cope with the thoughts and turmoil that haunted her. She hadn't found the will to get up, so she had spent the day mentally drifting between Shuggazoom and the aforementioned void. It was black, dreary, and constantly silent there.

But something pricked within her now. Valina sensed a familiar presence in her dank little trench (she called it her trench now; it was her grave, therefore it was her trench). And that presence was powerful.

The prickle under her skin turned into a crawl when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. It was on the other end of the pit, and the witch had to squint to try and make out what it was. It seemed to creep closer, making her job a tad easier. It was small, no taller than three feet (though this was an estimate, as it was currently crouched on the ground), and it appeared to be terribly thin. Something nagged and gnawed at her in the back of her mind, but the sorceress was unable to place just what it was…

Until she noticed the color.

Through the blurry vision she'd become accustomed to, Valina saw a speck of orange on an obscure body of ivory white.

The witch almost reeled back as sheer shock (mixed with touch of disgust and contempt) washed over her.

Mandarin?

Valina felt her body begin to twitch. The miserable creature that had somehow found his way into her resting place wasn't what was causing her current reaction, she realized. The sorceress noticed then with considerable confusion that the monkey was beginning to glow. She squinted again, trying to get a clue as to what was causing the anomaly. She decided after a few seconds that it wasn't him that was glowing; it was…something around his neck-

An amulet. A spiked amulet.

Valina's whole body stiffened. How did he get a hold of her amulet? And why was she having this reaction? A thought dawned on the witch, and she froze.

I'm still connected to it.

Her power wasn't gone... The Skeleton King hadn't destroyed it as he did her body. That was why she hadn't simply died…!

The witch threw a sideways glance to a black smear on the ground. If he Mandarin was to use her pendant in such close proximity to her spirit and remains…

A new purpose breathed life into the undead-sorceress: she had to force Mandarin to use the power of the amulet.

The monkey stumbled forward towards the witch, and Valina pounced.


The monkey's feet lightly made contact with the Pit's floor as he jumped the last four or five feet down. Mandarin's body moved with strength and confidence, making it impossible for anyone to tell that the monkey was not in control of his actions. He was running blind, a temporary servant to another's demands.

Far away, a man smirked, and loosened his grip of control on the wretched abomination, slipping into the recesses of his victim's mind. Everything was going according to his plan, and all the pawns were in place. All that was left was to sit back and enjoy the show…


Mandarin blinked slowly as awareness returned to him. Glancing around, he deduced that he was no longer in the prison. This disturbed him to an extent, because he couldn't actually remember exiting… What was even more troubling was that he had absolutely no idea where he was currently.

He crawled forward, still trying to orient himself. From the large pillars of greyish rock surrounding him, he assumed he as in a canyon of some sort, maybe a large crevice-

"Take me to the pit…"

Mandarin shivered in disbelief. Dreamlike memories invaded his mind. Well, maybe they weren't so dreamlike…

Ba-bump

A blinding light slowly leaked from the amulet on the monkey's chest, both reminding him of its presence and eventually rendering his vision useless.

Mandarin rubbed his eyes, trying to rid the unwanted brightness from them, before hesitantly continuing forward. His claw scraped against the dusty ground, dragging alongside him.

Ba-bump

Mandarin stiffened at the noise. He didn't need to look to try to find where the sound had come from.

Ba-bump ba-bump

It was a heartbeat.

Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump

And it was beating rapidly in his head.

Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump

…But it wasn't his…

Ba-bump

He never saw it coming.

The amulet flashed again and Mandarin shrieked as the pain enveloped his body. Something was clawing at him, both internally and externally. Something was angry

The monkey froze within when he realized that he knew this pain. He'd felt this pain. He'd been tortured with this pain…

All for the whereabouts of a skull.

Mandarin growled with the primal fury that surged through him, and he hissed out a single word:

Valina.

Once more shadows erupted from the amulet's jewel, but this time they emerged in a snake-like form. They individually wrapped themselves around the simian's body, searing every spot they touched, making him fall to the ground and writhe where he lay; swiping fruitlessly at the air, trying to fend off his attackers.

His vision was blurring with agony. Through the pain he saw a female's shadowy form compile from his many assailants. He didn't need crystal-clear vision to know whose shadow it was…

No…

He felt his arms being pushed towards his chest; his hand was being made to reach for something…

I will not lose to her again

He screamed again, and with every ounce of will-power he possessed tore his limbs from the spell that was taking over him. Rolling over, he used his claw and palm to push himself up to his feet and made a frenzied sprint to the pit's wall. He in all honesty had no idea what was happening but he obstinately refused to allow it to go so much as one step further.

Mandarin felt something collide with him from behind and tackle him to the ground. His face met the rough floor and he hissed in pain as blood flowed forth, but made another attempt to get back up. He was firmly held down this time, and the torment tripled.

The monkey screeched and clawed desperately at the ground, struggling to fight the power that was now dragging him backwards. The shallow furrows his fingers made in the dirt amounted to nothing. Blackness encompassed his vision, and he felt himself being forcibly rolled onto his back. Mandarin screamed wildly and thrashed around trying to free himself once again. Once more he felt his arms move. The pain grew unbearable and threatened to rip him into pieces.

The simian's strength waned under the pressure of the spell. It became obvious he needed to break its concentration soon; he couldn't last much longer under the duress. If he could just relax for a second

The agony peaked at that moment, and Mandarin's control slipped.

A clawed hand shot to the amulet, and a mauve beam illuminated the lifeless night.

A hideous cackle of rebirth shattered the silence of the evening, and Mandarin's entire body went limp in frustrated defeat.