In the month that Scarlett had been imprisoned, there had been a total of three security guards in charge of watching her. The first had been a stern, no-nonsense, stickler character that somehow managed to overlook important details like Scarlett slipping a needle into her cell. She'd stabbed him under the belt with the needle in an attempt to escape, which ultimately failed. He'd been deposed after that.
The second guard had been sympathetic towards her and Scarlett had hoped to manipulate him into setting her free. However, he had ultimately been reassigned due to Max's paranoia. Both guards had lasted less than a week, and Scarlett had assumed that this trend would continue. So she counted on having a new guard about every week that she could try new things on.
The third guard had lasted nearly a month now.
Eric Morris was the epitome of every negative stereotype of a security guard ever, which was exactly why Max had selected him for the job. Morris was fairly ugly, although not overweight, had a mean glint in his eye at all times, and a tendency to torture and beat any prisoner whenever he felt like it.
Scarlett sat on the floor of her cell, massaging a bruise on her face. She twirled her broken glasses in her hands and subconsciously placed her thumb and pointer finger around her ribcage. Her face appeared gaunt and pale, her hair was sweaty and abysmal-looking, and the weight lost from a month of beatings and subpar food took its toll on her. She had given up trying to stand a day ago, instead trying and failing to conserve her energy. If Morris's strategy was to starve her until she was incapable of fighting back, it appeared to be working.
Silently, she cursed Max once again. She'd warned him, years ago. She'd warned him about meddling with things out of his control. But he hadn't listened, and once he had the funds for his ambitions, there would be nothing stopping him from utterly destroying the world with nary a care. Scarlett doubted that Max had ever killed anyone face to face. Killing from a distance allowed him to dehumanize his targets. The foolish boy that Scarlett had known on Pahkitew Island would not sleep quite as well at night if he knew how many babies he had inadvertently killed.
"Oy! Bitch!"
The door slid open and the man himself swaggered in, a grin on his face and a tray of the usual insubstantial prison food in his hands.
"Eric," Scarlett said weakly, not bothering to get up as the guard towered above her before setting the tray of sludge down at her.
"Didn't realize we were on a first name basis," Morris drawled, rising back up to his feet.
"What's the latest news?" Scarlett asked casually. "Your...generous accomodations sadly do not provide means for me to remain up to date on current events."
"None of your business," Morris sneered. "Never will be, either. Ya see," he said, leaning down and looking the psychopath in the eyes. "I'm not sure if you understand just yet, but…" Snarling, he decked her across the face, sending her to the ground. "You're not leaving here! Ya got that?"
"Your attempts to deter my perceived optimism for my surroundings are pitiable," Scarlett sniffed, pusing herself back up into a sitting position. She looked down at the sludge on her plate. "Although, generally, it is my belief that the worse a prisoner is treated, the more incentive they will have to take revenge."
Morris snorted, before turning to the device on his belt and turning a dial. The shock collar activated, electrifying Scarlett. She screamed in pain, before he dialed it back down. "Yeah, you're real scary. Ya THINK you're scary is what ya think! But you see this, right here?" He shoved the dial in her face, showing the amount of voltage he could pump through her body. "You can't bargain nothing when I can kill you witih a twist of my thumb."
Scarlett coughed weakly. "Is it...too much to ask...for more sustenence?"
"Look," Morris shrugged. "If you want better shit, then you know what the price is." The guard moved in suggestively, a grin stretching his features. "C'mon, I ain't that bad!"
Scarlett spit in his face. "If you think I would ever sleep with you, then you've just cemented my decision to kill you when I get out of here."
Morris's smile slowly vanished. "Aight then," he shrugged. "Your loss." Without even looking, he cranked up the voltage on the shock collar. Scarlett screamed again. Morris held the device for ten seconds before finally dialing it back down.
The door opened.
Max Vile walked through, hands tucked behind his back. "Ah, Morris," Max smirked as three sets of doors closed behind him. "I would like to talk with Scarlett for a moment. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, sir," Morris replied smugly, walking away from Scarlett's coughing body. "I'll leave you two alone to...do whatever."
Max pressed a button on his watch and a chair folded out of the ground inside the cell. The cell door closed and Scarlett slowly staggered to her knees, glaring at Max. Max cringed as he saw her. She'd lost at least another fifteen pounds since he'd last visited her, and her usually pale face was dotted with large blue marks.
"Scarlett...you don't look well," Max cringed. Quickly, he lost all sign of weakness and dismissed her with a sniff. "Oh well, not my problem. Good day to you."
Scarlett sat up. "Do you know that I have had so little food or water that it takes effort just to stand up?" she asked quietly.
Max folded his arms. "Well, you should have eaten the food you were given. No one likes a picky eater."
Scarlett barked out a laugh at this. "Do you think I didn't? The portions are so small, and the food itself is so unhealthy, I wouldn't be surprised if it was defecation from your rear end."
"What?" Max asked in confusion.
"I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF IT WERE YOUR SHIT!" Scarlett thundered, and instinctively Max put his hand to his watch, ready to activate her shock collar if necessary.
"...oh," Max replied. He sniffed. "You might be wondering why I came here."
"Actually, I'm more wondering how you plan to leave this room alive," Scarlett deadpanned.
Max continued as if he had not heard her. "It's that I thought about what you said. About an adviser."
Scarlett nodded, not sure where this was going. "And..."
Max grinned. "I got myself an adviser!"
Scarlett golf-clapped, putting an obviously fake-cheery smile onto her face. "Yay! Max got his first adviser! I'm so proud!"
Max gestured to his watch, and Scarlett stopped.
"Very well," she said, trying her best to sound unconcerned, but the pain found its way to her voice. "Who?"
"Izzy from Total Drama!" Max grinned.
Scarlett was silent for a few moments. "...what?"
"She volunteered, we hired her. Simplicity!" Max extended his hands upward in triumph.
"You...hired...Izzy..." Scarlett seemed to be trying to comprehend what she'd just been told. "...as your adviser. Izzy."
Max nodded excitably. "Yes! She has been very helpful so far! I asked what we could do about changing it up around here and she suggested putting Kool-Aid in the water fountains! She's a genius!"
Scarlett stared at him for a few seconds. Then a laugh escaped her. Then another. Then another, and Scarlett was on the floor, cackling against her own will. She placed her hand on her forehead, laughing mirthlessly. Max sat in his chair uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Finally, Scarlett's laughter died down and she looked him in the eyes, an unhinged gleam in hers.
"I don't believe it," she said calmly.
"What?" Max asked, looking confused.
"You're trying..." Scarlett nearly burst into laughter again. "to make me jealous! You, the great, powerful Max...are trying to make me jealous. You hired another former Total Drama contestant with an Asp294His allele, and-"
"What?"
"RED HAIR!" Scarlett screamed at him, causing him to shrink even further into his chair despite the fact that he was technically the one in control. "Anyway, as I was saying, former redhead Total Drama contestant with a knack for intelligence and insanity...are you sure this was intentional?" She smiled sweetly at Max. "Do you honestly think I care whether or not you have someone blindly following you around who isn't me?"
"Well-" Max began.
"I. Don't. Care," Scarlett snarled, moving to him. "Look at me. LOOK! AT! ME!" Max cowered even further. "DO I LOOK LIKE WHO YOUR SIDEKICK IS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW?"
Max got up, shaking. "Well, thank you for your time, Scarlett, but I will be leaving now. A lot of evil to do, and not unlimited time to do it."
"Oh, you're leaving?" Scarlett laughed, a twinkle of insanity in her eyes. "I pity you even more now."
The door slid open and Max prepared to walk through. As he left, he heard Scarlett's voice.
"You delude yourself even further. You have learnt nothing, and I look forward to watching you burn."
Max paused for a moment, back turned to Scarlett. He continued moving.
The door slammed shut, leaving his only sort of anchor on reality behind him.
The meeting room was filled with about ten people total, all either high-up in Max's organization or one of their allies. Several governors sat next to one another, while Dave was rubbing his hands together, and looked distressed that he'd forgotten his hand sanitizer. The fact that he was sitting next to Matheson, a burly, sweaty man didn't help matters.
Vincent Matheson was an odd case in that he appeared to the average person to just be a hired thug, with a mouthful of teeth that had never seen braces in his childhood, a shaved head, and tattoos strung across his muscled body. Despite this, he was actually an expert in espionage and worked for Dave and Noah's employer as opposed to Max. Most of the more competent soldiers didn't work for Max. Giving Max that kind of men all to himself was far too dangerous.
Max sat at the head of the table, Evil One to his right side and Izzy to his left. Evil One looked around nervously, realizing that he'd forgotten an entire stack of papers that he still had to stamp with Max's illegible, childish signature. Izzy appeared to be gnawing on a straw, mangling it to bits, seemingly out of boredom. One of the foreign ministers scooted away from her, only to have Dave on the other side about having a panic attack without his breath mints.
Finally, the meeting began.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," Max said in his nasally voice. "Thank you for coming. We will now be discussing the matter of the resistance, and how to deal with it. Evil One, if you would."
Evil One cleared his throat and pressed a button. A hologram of a drooped, disfigured face appeared above the table, turning so that each of them could see it.
"This is the leader of the resistance," Evil One said. "Darren Moreau. A former Japanese businessman who lost much of his empire after the takeover. He's been traveling around trying to stir uprisings and recruit people to his insurrection. In-including..."
Dave narrowed his eyes and stared at Evil One, who gulped.
"Including...including my former partner, Evil Two."
He changed the hologram, but instead of Evil Two's face popping up, what appeared to be Twilight began playing. Evil One's eyes widened and quickly he changed it to Evil Two's face. "That was nothing," he denied. "Nothing, you saw...nothing...nothing...yeah."
Izzy threw her mangled straw at him, hitting him in the face. He picked it up with his fingertips, grimacing as he felt her drool before throwing it away. Quickly, he wiped his hands off on his sleeves, and Dave felt a pang of sympathy for Evil One at that moment.
"If you have not met her yet," Max said smoothly, "this is my new adviser, Izzy. She will be helping us by...whatever means necessary. Would you like to introduce...yourself...Izzy..." Izzy was gone. "Where did she go?"
"Hi!" Izzy was clinging onto the ceiling, and the entire table yelped in surprise. "Sorry, just got bored!" She flipped back into her seat. "Anyway, sup?"
"We were just introducing you," Max said, seemingly irritated. "But no matter."
Matheson cleared his throat. "If I could, sir, suggest something," he said in his gruff voice. "Moreau has been traveling with a former Olympic gymnast and marksman as his bodyguard and lieutenant. She could be a problem, but if we were to take her out quickly..." He grinned, showing his bent teeth.
Dave appeared to suddenly be very interested in a ceiling tile.
Max nodded. "Excellent suggestion, Matheson! Izzy, your thoughts?"
"Do we have to kill them?" Izzy asked. "I mean, couldn't we compromise? I think that they'd be happy just with a little bit more food or drink their way."
"WHAT, ARE YOU KIDDING?" Max shouted. "That's PREPOSTEROUS! If they don't have food, well, I guess they made a REALLY bad decision being poor, then!"
Dave bonked his head against the table.
Evil One rose his hand. "Sir, just so you know, our contract with Signal Industries is almost expired. They'll be wanting more payment if we're to use their weapons."
"I can take care of those boring financial matters," Max sniffed, huffing himself up to look more important. "Who's the CEO again?"
Dave spoke into the table. Everyone turned to look at him. He poked his head up. "Alejandro Burromuerto. Yaaaay, another TD contestant." His head went back down onto the table, and his contributions were no more.
Max furrowed his eyebrows. "Alejandro was at the party I went to. He was wearing a nice tux. I guess it makes sense."
Matheson cleared his throat. "You've had this contract with Signal Industries for as long as you've been a conqueror and you never knew who the CEO was?"
"The details aren't important," Max sniffed. "I was funded by Dave here, or whoever the hell he works for. His group provided the funds for the contract with Signal. Voila, weapons. It will be fine."
"So what's the plan?" Izzy chirped. "I'm getting kinda bored here. But...could we not kill them? They kind of have a point."
"Quiet, fool," Max said. "We will find another of their fortresses and BRING IT TO THE GROUND! All in agreement?"
All the people at the table were aware of the machine gun turrets on the ceiling, so quickly every hand was raised in agreement, mutters of assent dotting the air.
Max smiled. "Good. Dismissed."
Dave sighed in relief and got away from the table as fast as he could. Matheson exited quietly while Evil One breathed an audible sigh of relief as he left the room. Izzy tried to get up but Max grabbed onto her arm, motioning for her to remain seated.
"I want to talk with you," he said quietly.
After everyone had left the room, Izzy and Max sat in silence. Max cleared his throat. "Why are you sympathizing with the enemy?"
Izzy shrugged. "Well, 'cause you have to look at all possible viewpoints in order to get shit done." She got up and picked her straw out of the trash can. "Like, this straw, for example! Let's say one end of the straw is you, and the other is Moreau." She squinted as she tried to look through the bent-up straw. "Once upon a time, you guys could totally have the same flow, ya know? But now..." She mangled it up, grinning. "It's like ZSIEGUH9430A7WGZH9TUIO!" She presented the mangled straw. "
"You can't drink anything out of this! But..." she smoothed the straw back out. "If you manage to straighten things out...you can still drink some delicious egg nog without having to get a new straw!" She grinned, proud of her analogy.
Max scratched his head. "I...have no idea what you just said."
Izzy frowned slightly. "Eh. If I'm gonna advise you, you're gonna have to listen to people with different views than your own."
Max sighed. "Sadly." He got up. "Regardless, thank you. I shall consider your...thing. Analogy. Whichever." He walked out of the room, Izzy behind him. "After this, perhaps we can figure out what makes the other tick."
Izzy smiled. "Of course! See ya, munchkin!" She ran off down the hallway. Slowly, Max went back into the room, eyebrows deep in thought.
He picked up the straw. "So...the straw represents society...and one end is me, and the other me, NO, wait, Moreau, right." He mangled it up. "And if this happens, then stuff is bad, and I should really throw this away, and...um...what was the part about straightening it out again?"
For the next thirty minutes, Max remained in the room, talking and shouting to himself, trying to work out the analogy that Izzy had given him. Much mangling of the poor straw later, he finally understood what she had said and why she had said it.
It had taken thirty minutes, but he actually realized that Izzy had a point.
He didn't agree with the point, but he admitted that she had a point.
And there was always a first step for everything.