Chapter 6: Thy Enemy Revealed

The shadows in the room shifted and turned, as if keeping tabs on the five figures present. At one end of the room, a woman sat in her chair, as always, covered to the outside world by a veil of darkness, hands running across the furry back of a small animal on her lap. Opposite her in the room stood three men, two of whom are yet to feature in our little adventure; that is, of course, until now.

On the left, set slightly forward of the other two, a familiar, yet unfamiliar figure knelt, his head bowed towards his mistress. His torso was completely bare, rippling muscles only hidden by a sea of golden hairs; below the point where the hairs ended, a purple bruise swelled painfully. His face was stern, a slightly larger than average nose and smaller ears accompanied only by scars. His hair was buzz-cut, and platinum blonde. One hand lay upon the leg of his camouflage-patterned trousers, the other flat against the stone floor.

"Louis," the woman spoke, "Why is it that you failed me, once again?"

At the word 'failed', the man's face physically contorted, a mixture of despair and disappointment at himself fuelling his features. Before he could begin his case, a voice from his right cut him short.

"This better be good, Ions," this particular voice was quite becoming of its owner; a harsh, gravelly undertone layered beneath the strong, fearsome accent. To the right of the kneeling man stood another of a whole other calibre, his body stiff and unmoving; although it was smaller and slimmer than that of the first man's, every square inch of his body was at its peak, his pale skin darkened by an underlying shade of metallic silver. On each of his joints, a dark line ran in a circle around the limb in question, small silver domes running parallel like bolts screwed down to a metal plane. The only thing to cover his shame was a pair of tightly fitted navy-blue shorts, and a fingerless leather glove on each hand.

"I don't need your input, thank you," came the woman's voice once more, instantly silencing the second man; his head twisting back to return focus to the leader of the assembled group. "I don't wish to be made to ask again, Louis. What went wrong?"

Raising his head slightly, Ions mouth opened slightly, the words momentarily refusing to leave before his remaining willpower forced them loose.

"It wasn't told to do more than investigate, and when that blonde bitch arrived and started causing chaos, I thought it a better use of time and resources to apprehend the stranger than to continue with the mission." he started, his eyes pleading for some sort of agreement from any of the assembled party. There was a slight pause, before their leader spoke again from the shadows.

"Bullshit!" her voice was filled with anger; even the hardy figure flinched with a dash of fear at her tone. "Fail again, and I'm selling you to a fucking Zoo. Got it?"

Too ashamed and afraid to even utter a response, Ions simply nodded, shuffling back into line with the other two figures. The second in the line smiled discreetly; the third simply stood. He seemed less of a man than either of the others, any distinguishing features covered by a simple hemp sack, holes torn out where the eyes would be, a wonkily stitched line for a mouth. A simple chequered shirt and 

beige trousers hung loosely on his figure, a simple chord of string for a belt. From the corners of the trouser legs, sleeves, and any other random holes in his attire, the occasional stick of straw protruded, bent and battered into a variety of shapes and sizes.

"Now, we've got two very important things to get through today!" the woman said, any negative feelings now eradicated from her voice, as she leaned forward slightly, the Crystal that lay between the four standing figures swirling ominously as it settled on its new target; the crisp light shone out from an aquatic scene, pieces of random debris floating this way and that.

"Firstly," she said, turning her head slightly to look past the figure of the straw man, into the darkest corner of the room, "I've some news for you, missy."

A previously shrouded figure moved ever so slightly, so that her huddled body could be seen in the darkness. Her green eyes peered out over a beaked nose, and from her fingers, slim tendrils of energy seemed to tie themselves like puppeteer's strings to different parts of the Scarecrow's body.

The figure in the chair pointed as a figure floated past the other debris in the image. Her body was twisted, wooden shrapnel piercing her skin, and a trail of blood following her journey beneath the waves.

"It appears that your sister has died," said the woman frankly, leaving the huddled figure in the corner staring blankly at the crystal in a state of disbelief and horror, "Shame, really. Oh well, next item!"

The crystal changed once again, this time splitting the image down the centre; one side showed a hammerhead shark Fishman manoeuvring his way through the forest, a young girl following closely behind him; the other displaying the four pirates on the Yellow Road, sat around a circle on a temporary rest (brought on, most likely, by incessant whining on a certain artist's part.)

"It seems that some fish have taken the bait," the woman smiled, giving the three figures opposite her a few moments to take in what they were seeing. After this slight pause, she reached to her right, picking up three pieces of paper and throwing them casually onto the floor, the light that poured in through the windows enabling their contents to be seen easily.

"'Last Man Standing' Horatio Badger, worth B100,000,000. 'Scorpion' Arachna D Seth, worth B69,000,000. "Artiste" Vince Van Monasso, worth B50,000,000," her finger pointed at each poster in turn, indicating clearly the features of the three most wanted pirates in the group, "half of their crew are bounty heads! And not exactly small fry, either."

The centre figure of the three men affixed his eyes on the crystal, darting his attention from one pirate to the next in turn. After a few circuits around the crew, his pupils fixed solidly on one particular man, his cheeks padded out as an enormous grin crossed his face, eyes clenched shut, one hand absentmindedly scratching the scar on his arm as the captain let his first mate relish in a tale of his success (in this particular instance, it involved Seth's battle with Commodore Aran of the 5th Marine Brigade.)



"I'll take the chirpy one," he said, his voice filled with menace, "he seems innately optimistic. I would gain great satisfaction in beating that particular virtue from his system."

"That suits me fine," added Ions rapidly, raising a finger to point out the Fishman, "as long as I go nowhere near him! That one's vicious, that Locke!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," quipped the central man, "you can turn into a Lion! Tear the fish into fillets!"

"N...not all of us have your bloodlust, Woody," he replied, backing away slightly in slight disbelief that his retort was actually spoken aloud, before readjusting the aim of his digit to indicate instead the blonde haired man, who seemed to be on the verge of an emotional breakdown due to the fact (unbeknownst to their observers) that Badger had just told him the truth of what he thought Vince's idea of an after-battle celebration.

"Let me t...take him, Mistress," he said, "he seems much less of a threat!"

"Do whatever you will," she muttered, momentarily despairing at her incompetent underling, while tentatively scratching the belly of the animal on her lap, which now lay upside down, pawing the air gently with pleasurable twitches, "Ions, Cutter, you can take out the lower of the two bounties. That old biddy in the corner and her Scarecrow will take the freebies..."

Righting itself and bounding merrily off her lap, the small Scottie Terrier bounced across the room, yipping quietly at nothing in particular. Standing up from her seat, the woman moved into the light, exposing her red-and-white chequered dress, straw-blonde pigtails, and glistening ruby slippers.

"It seems that the Badger is mine, then," said Dorothy, through smiling lips.