This chapter was a monster to write and edit, so I hop you appreciate all the work I do for you. Anyway, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is produced by Dreamworks Animation Television, and both She-Ra and He-Man are owned by Mattel. Yadda. Yadda. Enjoy.

Chapter 5: Business as Usual

(Snake Mountain: Around the same time)

Deep within the Dark Hemisphere, beyond the Plains of Eternal Suffering and just south of the Valley of Unimaginable Horror, sits the tall and imposing fortress known as Snake Mountain.

And deep within this tower of terror, upon a throne made from the remains of his fallen adversaries, sat the Dark Lord of the Outcasts, the Great and Terrible Skeletor.

And as he sat there, gently scratching his beloved dylinx, Panthor, behind his ears, he looked down on his loyal followers and smiled; at least in spirit anyway.

For today, they were all going to participate in one of the faceless fiend's favorite rituals.

The weekly staff meeting.

Now I know what you're thinking, it seems strange that an archvillain of Skeletor's caliber would get this keyed up about something as mundane and tedious as a staff meeting, and you're right. It is a little odd, but there's a method to this madness.

Firstly, despite his reputation for being cruel and ruthless, which was well deserved, Skeletor rather enjoyed listening to his followers spitball new ideas for conquering Eternia. In his own opinion, brainstorming new ideas for destroying their enemies was a superb teambuilding exercise.

And second, he just adored being the center of attention.

But I digress.

As was usual with this sort of thing, everyone was gathered in the throne room; chatting amongst themselves while they waited for the meeting to start; with two notable exceptions. The first being Stinkor, who was required to attend the meeting via hologram from his room on the far side of the building; for obvious reasons. The other was Two Bad, who always served as Skeletor's secretary during these meetings; partly because he/they were so well organized, but largely because the two-headed ogre rarely had anything useful to contribute.

"Alright everybody, settle down." Said Tuvar, the blue head, as he attempted in vain to talk over everyone else. "We've got a lot to cover today, so let's try to… I said we've got a lot to cover, so… I said we've… Ugh!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" roared Baddrah, the purple head, instantly silencing the entire room.

"Thank you." Said Tuvar, to both his comrades and his other half. "Now then, as I was saying, we've got a lot to cover today, so let's try to keep the bickering to a minimum. Okay?"

The others all responded with a silent nod.

"Okay." The blue ogre said, pausing briefly to check the to do list on his data pad before continuing. "First item on the agenda, there's the matter of Trap Jaw's apparent desertion during Operation Snake Charmer. Trap Jaw, step forward, if you please."

Out of all the Outcasts, Trap Jaw was by far the easiest to recognize. Not because he was the smartest, or the strongest, or anything like that, but rather it was because his… well… grotesque appearance made it very easy to pick him out in a crowd; which I suppose is why he never got assigned to any missions that required stealth. With his numerous scars, cybernetic arm and cast iron mandible, Trap Jaw was in no danger of winning any beauty contests. And yet it could not be denied that this misshapen abomination carried with him a certain air of dignity. As if he cared nothing about how he looked or how other people saw him.

At least that's what it seemed like as he knelt before his Master.

"Trap Jaw." Skeletor said sternly. "You stand accused of desertion. Dereliction of duty during one of our most important operations. Leaving poor, innocent Stinkor to fend for himself against not one, but three Masters of the Universe. And all so you could go drinking in the middle of the day!"

The Dark Lord's voice shook the walls of the throne room, which is why he took a moment to calm down before he continued.

"Now, under normal circumstances you'd be up to your eyeballs in battery acid right now. But since you've proven your loyalty to me so many times in the past, and because I'm such a nice guy, I'm going to give you, oh… let's say five minutes to explain yourself." He said as an aura of hellish red filled his eye sockets. "I suggest you not waste them."

To his credit, Trap Jaw didn't cower or grovel like a normal person would in this situation. Instead he remained perfectly calm as he prepared to defend himself.

"Lord Skeletor." The monstrous cyborg said respectfully. "I understand the severity of my crimes, and if you see fit to punish me, I will not resist. But please believe me, what I did, I did for the good of us all."

"Ha. This should be good." Evil-Lyn muttered amusedly; earning a caustic glare from her Master.

"Please continue, Trap Jaw."

"Thank you, my Lord. Now as I was saying, while on route to the Sands of Time I received a transmission from our mole within the Spider Guild, informing me that he had classified intel he wished to share. I know I should've contacted you and gotten permission before abandoning the operation, but I was told there was only a small window of time when we could meet. So I made an executive decision and went straight to the rendezvous point."

"At a pub?" Skeletor asked dubiously.

"It was a neutral location, equidistant from the Sands of Time and where he was currently stationed. Besides, it was a well-known hangout for criminals and mercenaries, so seeing the two of us there didn't arose any suspicion."

"I see… So tell me, Trap Jaw, why did Evil-Lyn see you there alone when she peered into her crystal ball? And why did you not attempt to rejoin Stinkor once your meeting was complete?"

"As I said before, there was only a small window when we could meet. Really it was more of a handoff than a meeting. And as for why I didn't return, the intel he gave me is on a small data drive. I didn't want to risk it getting lost or damaged in the heat of battle, so I remained where I was until I received word of your victory. And besides, with his powers, I knew Stinkor would be more than a match for a handful of Masters."

"Well, you just have an answer for everything, don't you." Said the Dark Lord, still sounding a little suspicious of his subordinate. "But tell me, where is this alleged data drive of yours?"

"Right here, Master." The malformed cyborg replied as he pushed a hidden button on his cybernetic arm, causing a tiny data drive to eject from his shoulder. "As per protocol, I haven't looked at the information myself, so I will let you decide if my actions were justified, my Liege."

Without another word, Skeletor took the mysterious drive from his seemingly loyal servant and, after borrowing Two Bad's data pad, he began to examine its contents. For a solid eight and a half minutes he just sat there, scrolling some unseen data stream, his expression completely unreadable; not that this was anything new.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Dark Lord looked up from his screen and said in a clam, clear voice,

"Very good, Trap Jaw. All is forgiven."

And with that, the matter was closed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Trap Jaw stood up and rejoined his fellow Outcasts. Many of them wondered what bit of intel could be so juicy that it would cause their Master to spare the cyborg's life, but they all knew better than to question him.

In Snake Mountain, Skeletor's word was law.

"Alright people, let's not dawdle. We've still got a lot to do." Tuvar said, having retrieved his data pad. "Up next on the agenda we have… Beast Man's proposal for a new scheme. Step forward, Beast Man."

Not needing to be told twice, the hulking man-ape took center stage; followed swiftly by a hovering Doom Seeker.

"With pleasure." He muttered smugly before loudly proclaiming to all, "Fellow Outcasts! Lord Skeletor. For too long our great organization has been at a serious disadvantage when it comes to gathering intel from our enemies. Doom Seekers are too easily recognized. Cloaks and bugs can be scanned for. And now, thanks to the efforts of that bastard Man-At-Arms, nearly every government facility on the Light Hemisphere comes equipped with facial recognition devices, biomolecular scanners, and even dark magic detectors. Making our attempts at espionage all but pointless."

Upon hearing this, several of his colleagues nodded in agreement.

"But no longer. For you see, my friends, I have found the solution to all our problems. The ultimate in surveillance and infiltration technology. My fellow Outcasts, I give you… The Psychic Popinjay!"

On cue, the Doom Seeker moved into position and projected a large, three-dimensional image of a purple, vaguely parrotlike creature.

"It's… a bird?" asked Skeletor, speaking for everyone's collected confusion.

"Yes, my Lord. But not just any bird. This is a rare and unusual bird. The elusive Psychic Popinjay!"

"So you keep saying." The Dark Lord said, sounding unimpressed. "But they can't be all that rare. I've seen hundreds of these things on the Light Hemisphere."

"No Master, you've only seen Common Popinjays." Beast Man corrected him, trying not to sound condescending. "Pretty to look at, but mostly useless; basically just brightly colored pigeons. Psychic Popinjays, however, are infinitely more impressive. They go for about five hundred gold pieces on the black market."

"Okay, I'll bite. What makes these flying rats so valuable?"

"Well, as the name suggests, they have psychic powers. They communicate with each other using telepathy, which comes in handy when looking for food or during mating season. But by implanting a small transmitter device into their brains, we can tap into that telepathy, and see and hear everything they do, via a wireless receiver…"

"Stop." Skeletor interrupted before turning to his chief inventor. "Tri-Klops, is there any truth to what he's saying?"

"Well… I can't say I've ever heard of these Psychic Popinjays." The three eyed cyborg admitted. "But I've read about fishermen implanting similar devices in the brains of Sea Ravens. So the technology does exist."

"I see… Very well, Beast Man. You may continue."

"Eh… Yes, Sir. Ahem. As I was saying, I've already purchased a breeding pair through the Spider Guild and once they've mated and their eggs have hatched we can start training our new flock to…"

"Stop." The Dark Lord interrupted again. "Why do we need to breed more? Why not just use the ones we already have?"

"B-Because they're too old to survive the procedure. In order to ensure the success of this project, we need to implant the transmitters shortly after they hatch. And we'll need to start training them as soon as they can fly. It'll take about six months, but once they're fully trained we'll have a whole flock of spies. Efficient. Imperceptible. Completely undetectable."

"What about the transmitters?" Skeletor interrupted yet again.

"Uh… eh… W-What, Sir?"

"The transmitters, Beast Man. The ones we'll be putting inside the Popinjays' brains. The things we need to be able to see what they see. How do you intend to keep them from triggering the alarms?"

"Well I… I… Huh?"

"Because, as we all know, those biomolecular scanners you mentioned earlier are designed to react if they detect any unregistered technology inside a living body. You know, to prevent someone from doing exactly what you've just described."

"Well I… I guess I didn't think about that."

"No, you didn't." Skeletor said derisively. "Your proposal is rejected. Better luck next time."

"But-But, Sir! Maybe we can work around the scanners… somehow. Can't we at least try?"

"Don't beg, Beast Man. It makes me not like you."

"But I already spent my last thousand gold pieces on the breeding pair!"

"Well then that was a very stupid thing to do, now wasn't it!" the Dark Lord roared, clearly having had enough of this foolishness. "Beast Man, next time, try thinking before you make such an impulsive decision. Now get out of my sight before I make an impulsive decision of my own."

And with that, the orange man-ape did as he was told.

From then on out, the meeting proceeded without incident.

After Beast Man, it was Evil-Lyn's turn to propose a new scheme. In her case, she suggested creating an army of Lava Golems to attack the Kingdom of Viridas; arguing that even if the Masters destroyed them, they could still ravage the ecosystem of one of Eternia's largest agricultural exporters. Naturally, this plan received high praise from her Master and thunderous applause from her peers; save for one who just grumbled bitterly.

Next came Tri-Klops who gave a status update on his latest project, the Hypersonic Atomic Disruptor Cannon. Admittedly, the construction was taking a little longer than expected, but aside from that everything was moving along quite smoothly, so he too received Skeletor's approval.

After this is was Clawful's turn to give his report outlining his latest trip to the Spider's Market. The big lug was happy to announce that thanks to his almost obsessive passion for clipping coupons, he had not only secured the organization enough provisions to last through the rest of the year, but he had done so underbudget; using the leftover scratch to procure an extra tankard of raspberry ale, much to everyone's delight.

Lastly, Whiplash stepped forward to deliver his formal complaint regarding the state of their gym. According to him, the exercise equipment was in abysmal condition and the floor was long overdue for new padding. Ever the kind and understanding despot, Skeletor cheerfully agreed to see that this problem was rectified; at his earliest convenience.

And with all that out of the way, we come to the final, and arguably most pressing, piece of business.

"Alright people, settle down. We've got one more item on the agenda and then we can go." Tuvar said, ever the professional. "Regarding Prince Adam's uncertain demise…. Hmm… Let's see… Ah, Mer-Man, I believe you were put in charge of manning the phones."

"Yes, Sir. That's correct." The ichthyosapien said as he stepped forward; a slight gurgle in his voice. "And we received one call from Webstor not two hours ago."

"Well don't just stand there looking like a frozen fish stick. What did he say?" Skeletor asked, sounding unintentionally racist.

"Well… it's sort of a good news, bad news kind of thing." Mer-Man replied, apparently not bothered by the slur. "The good news is that they've found Prince Adam's Sword of Power. The bad news is that they haven't found anything else. Not even a strand of his hair."

"UHRAAAAAAAHH!" the Dark Lord groaned in equal parts rage and exasperation. "That stupid spoiled little jackass! I spent three weeks planning that deathtrap and he has the audacity to survive! I mean, the least he could've done was loose a freaking limb!"

"Now, now, Master. There's no need to get so worked up." Evil-Lyn said in the sweetest, least condescending voice she could manage. "Just because they haven't found the Prince's body yet doesn't mean they won't."

"Ugh, Whatever." Skeletor replied, sounding very much like a pouting child. "Staff meeting's over. Everyone out. I want to be alone."

Seeing that their Lord and Master was in one of his moods again, the other Outcasts quickly and quietly made their way to the nearest exit; with the exception of Stinkor, who merely turned off his hologram.

However, just as he was about to leave, Mer-Man, having just remembered something, turned back around.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." He said to his Dark Lord. "Webstor did say one other thing."

"Ugh… Fine. Spit it out." Skeletor replied, sounding both annoyed and disinterested.

"He wanted to know if you were interested in buying a talking horse."

End Notes:

Good God, this took longer to write than I thought it would.

I hoped you all liked it and I'll see you in the next one.

Peace.