A/N: I'm not entirely sure when I'm going to start updating again with Act 2. It'll be on a Sunday, for sure, but I think that I want to take a step back and sort of evaluate how well this fic preforms on its own. You know, sort of gauge the feedback I may receive and work on other Ben 10 projects for a week or two. I'm not going to beg for comments or say something like, "_ follows before I update again!1! XDD" But do know that it all does really matter to me and I appreciate you taking the time to read this far.
So, that's enough for now. On with the intermission!
The call hadn't even started yet and Argyle could already feel a headache building.
It wasn't that he hated talking to his partners, it was that… No, it was that. He should have considered other possibilities before partnering with the two most obnoxious species in the galaxy.
Their calls came in at exactly the same time. Argyle's computer, safely locked away in his private office at Plumber Headquarters, was the only one on the entire planet without a monitoring device of some kind. Still, he didn't like to cut it close. They would have only ten minutes to hash out this discussion, though Argyle got the feeling that it was going to be more of a shouting match.
There were more important things for him to worry about. The usual citizen riots in Terces had been getting out of hand ever since Ben Tennyson's visit there, tallying nearly ten a day. And speaking of Tennyson, that pest should have gone up in the explosion. A horrible accident, of course. FTL drives needed to be stored at specific temperatures but overheating could sometimes happen if correct conditions weren't maintained. It was a terrible shame to have lost Tennyson and his partner in such a painful way.
Or, it would have been, had it actually happened. Somehow, even though Argyle had personally seen them get on the ship, they had survived. He knew because that explosion had been designed to scorch them, not incinerate them. Had they survived the flames, horrible disfigurement and an agonizing future would have awaited them. Had they died, like they were supposed to, Argyle should have been able to easily find their charred remains in the burnt out husk of the ship's hull. But even after his men wasted away turning over mountains of rubble for hours upon hours, no bodies (alive or otherwise) had been located. Before, Argyle had doubted what he had read in the human's file — that Tennyson literally couldn't die thanks to that stupid Omnitrix — but this had made him start to reconsider. Which meant that the troublemaker was running around the planet without the faintest hint of supervision and all the information he needed to bring Argyle's carefully-constructed empire crumbling down.
To make matters worse, Magister Tennyson of Earth kept trying to get in contact. Argyle was avoiding him, but he could only pretend that communications had been knocked out by a solar flare for so long before suspicion rose. And if he came to Petropia looking for his grandson, well... Killing Tennyson was bad enough, but not even the most incompetent Plumbers would believe that the deaths of so many influential visitors were a mere accident.
His partners were already aware of these facts, of course. That was likely what they wanted to fight about. Argyle let out a heavy sigh of resignation before sitting down at his office chair and accepting the communication link.
"What were you thinking?" Murowa shrieked almost immediately. Her voice was high-pitched at the best of times, but when she was angry, her annoying trilling sounded more like glass scraping together. "You'd better thank whatever Gods you believe in that I'm a couple dozen light years away right now, or I'd skin you for that stunt! I've told you already, you lobotomized imbecile, I have eyes everywhere! No one breathes on that crummy planet of yours without me knowing about it! If they hadn't made it out of that alive, I swear I'd—" What followed was lost in a jumble of incoherent and unfinished thoughts, peppered with swears and indecencies that would make any warlord blush.
When she finally tapered off, Diavik let out an amused chuckle. "Feel better?" Though he was pixelated on the screen thanks to poor long-distance quality, it was obvious how pleased he was. Their "business" hadn't been doing so well recently, but Diavik had often mentioned that the drama at auctions made for a delicious meal. That was probably the only reason that he had joined the call. When Murowa was angry, it could feed him for a week.
"Cram it, you emotional vampire!" She snapped back. "Tell me, Argyle, did we or did we not just conclude a conversation about Tennyson a week ago? Please tell me that you are not actually brain dead."
Argyle felt his eye twitch in irritation. "I remember," he said shortly, "but that was before Tennyson actually arrived here. He knows too much now. We can't risk everything for your entirely hypothetical plan. The resources that we have now are adequate. Another month or two of collecting and then we can leave. Why risk all of our hard work on someone as unpredictable as Tennyson—" The name made him sneer. "—when it would be more productive to cut his hand off and end him? The Omnitrix will fetch us an incredible price and I'm certain that someone would pay for his skin, too. Perhaps as a trophy."
"You're in denial," Diavik piped up. "We've all seen the numbers, Argyle, and there's no way that this operation can last if we ever leave our current hunting grounds — let alone if we want to take this all the way to Andromeda."
Murowa cackled — the unnerving screech of a person who had lost their mind long ago and no longer cared. "Thank you!" She howled. "Not that Mr. Hard Ass over here ever listens to the reports I give him! How long have I been telling you that, Argyle? Long before you were the Magister! I've said it before and I'll say it again — we need Tennyson alive for this to work long-term, if at all. Got that? "Alive," meaning, "not blown up"!" On screen, the colored spots on her cheeks went from their normal red to a deep cyan with frustration. Had Argyle not been so mad, he would have laughed.
"It's never been about the money for me," Argyle quipped back. His eyes narrowed. "Why should I care what you want to do with him? It's my plan, and right now, he's a threat. I'm not throwing away years of hard work and planning on a hunch. He knows too much. That's all there is to it. You're letting your ambitions cloud your judgment, Murowa, not that it's anything new. You know what he's accomplished. Even if we could capture him, he would never stay our prisoner. He's better off dead."
She shook her head like Argyle knew she would. Murowa never listened. "And you're being short-sighted, again! You can burn your cut of the damn money for all I care, but without it, there's no operation and you're stuck playing the nice guy for the rest of your life. We can't keep this up if you keep saying all of our assets are threats. That's literally our primary source of income." A dry smirk came to her lips. "Besides, if we can capture him, we won't need fresh prisoners anymore. If we can hold this many Petrosapiens, we can hold one scrawny human."
"No, not one human. We're talking about Ben Tennyson." Argyle sighed, pinching his brow. His head was made of peranite and somehow, her voice was still capable of making it throb. "The Plumbers will follow us to Andromeda for their pet if they have to. If not, his Revonnahgander partner will, and so will that fool, Tetrax. Tennyson's a liability."
It was almost as though she was waiting for that. And, knowing her, she probably was. Murowa had peeked into his head, once, when they first met and Argyle hadn't changed much since then. "Yes," she agreed, "so why not kill them? I know you enjoy removing threats. Let me handle Tennyson. My field agents will have him out before you even have time to complain, and you get to deal with his friends at your leisure. If I fail, well, it's not as though your money or your reputation will be affected. Let me try."
Diavik chuckled good-naturedly. "You might as well say yes, old friend," the Pugnavore said brightly. "Even if you refuse, you've no way of stopping her from doing what she wants. And her track record says that it won't exactly be a shot in the dark."
Though his expression scrunched up in annoyance, Argyle sighed in defeat. Why not? If she succeeded, he still got what he really wanted, and if she failed, he would mutilate Tennyson himself. The image of what Murowa would do with the boy if she succeeded, well… even Argyle wasn't that sadistic, but he wasn't going to object or petition for better treatment.
"Fine." Argyle's shoulders sagged as he gave in. "I won't kill him until after you fail. Do those conditions suit you?"
Murowa grinned, cold eyes glittering as eagerly as her razor-sharp teeth. The purr that all Nemuninas had in their voice, the one that she worked so hard to repress, crept into her tone. "Oh, they suit perfectly."
Had he been a kinder person, Argyle might have wished Tennyson luck in evading her. He might have even felt pity or guilt. But he hadn't been that man for several decades and he merely bid Murowa and Diavik goodbye before ending their call.
Only once he was certain that no one was watching did Argyle let a shudder of dread run down his spine. When she was done, Tennyson would be unrecognizable.
A/N: And that concludes our first act! We have some characters to get to know, a goal to reach, and our three main villains have been touched upon. What will our heroes do in the face of such impossible odds? Win, of course. All this and more, in Act 2 of DAF!
Chapter Nine: Add Insult to Injury
