"Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand? Or else, while the other is a great way off, he sendeth an ambassage, and desireth conditions of peace."
–Luke XIV: XXXI-XXXII (14:31-32 KJV)
-------------------------
The Black Baron
"Dragoons?" I said incredulously.
Waya nodded to me, a around-the-house hoodie over his shaggy hair, his eyes harder than when we first met. Ten years ago he had the fearless gape of the hunted but now he is the hunter. He was once a pup, but now he is a wolf.
It's been a week since the funeral of my friend. I had stood on a distant building watching the processions. Two weeks since his death, I was still planning on keeping my promise.
We both thought in silence. This is a very serious thing, the Dragoons have marked me or even us. Their titles are not false, The Lords of the Labyrinth of Crime, nor their power, by an order they dethrone sultans, presidents and kings to put paupers and fatherless in their seats. By whim they massacre, by command the commit genocide, and probably just for fun... they marked us.
"It's my fault," he said.
I looked at him confused but quickly realized that he wasn't thinking about the current situation.
"I should have been there to protect you, and-"
"Quiet Waya, I would have been attacked with you not there anyway. Why would one lug around one's brother or goon on a date or other occasions?"
I felt kinda bad about chastising him like that, but we can't change the past. We also know that our bonds run thicker than water, no need to redress our loyalty to the other over and over. No matter how much it touches my heart.
The answer on his tongue was kinda obvious but needed to be addressed,
"We can't fight them Godfather, they are stronger than Hulk Hogan on Bane's super-strength serum."
If this were a movie that might be funny. Such a corny phrase coming from a dark, serious, and emotionless figure in a laughless state. I try not to kill unless necessary and I try to never ever cuss. The air is so heavy that I might start cussing and bring sailors from the dead to blush.
Anyway...
There is only one answer.
"We have no choice but to fight, Waya. We can't buy them off us. They are absolutely self sufficient and started this war for only one thing: the thrill of the hunt."
"Are you sure that they were not going for ransom?"
The thought caused me to reflect on it. When I was attacked they were more careful toward me. Where if they were sent to simply kill me, then they wouldn't have spoke to me. Such care only comes from the fear of the leader punishing failure worse than death.
"The FBI has our identities and won't take kindly me blowing their op," I sulked my head into my palm, "or shocking their boys till their heads popped."
"We can't be presumptuous with the most powerful villains in the world."
"The ransom would have required us to sell something to pay it off! The price is now above our heads and going to drown us!"
"Then we'll pay the initial ransom and promise payments."
I sighed, very very deeply. We need to know what they want. We need an emissary.
------------------------
Later that day...
I sat at the chief seat of the stolen replica of Louis the Fourteenth's royal table. The pizzas was already here and growing cold. The glacier of ice pressing on us was enough that even Sarah wouldn't dare eat.
"I am sure that you are wondering why I have called for you all today."
If Waya is back, it's bad. He sat directly across from me and the other 'children' reverence him like the snapping his fingers demanded silence. They reverenced him: like me.
The children of this band have had their families lost, and I have become the father figure in their lives. They do not fight for money or for power; like others do, but they fight to please us and to satisfy the burning in their souls. They are not my tools nor my children, but they are my brothers and sisters in arms, and Weyha and me are merely officers.
I told them about the situation and Weyha assured the immediate questions. I couldn't tell their response to the revelation, but I could definitely tell that the majority was in panic. Then Thread Walker spoke, touching my arm,
"We will kill them."
Several of the others were going to openly object. Butterflies went throughout my body and stupid jests of grabbing this woman who is the master thief that has stolen my heart boiled from her touch. Amazing how this Spanish American with brown eyes, a few freckles, and black and yellowish highlights can make me not see Waya's scowl.
Obsidian Owl was the first and strongest objection, steam-punk as steam-punk could be, she is also one of the other women closer to me in age, (I also love her bowler hat and old steam-punk dress) but I thought I saw jealousy boiling in her eyes and steaming her voice,
"Are you bloody beside yourself? Do you want us all killed?"
Él Doug, that we pronounce as Él Dodge, spoke with his giant arms crossed over each other,
"YOU are stupid."
Thread Walker looked to them slowly sliding her hands from me,
"Do you doubt Father's ability?"
Obsidian Owl snorted,
"No, we-"
Waya snapped his fingers loudly, silencing the table, he settled himself farther out on the table, intertwining his fingers through and through, he stayed silent for a moment and then spoke,
"I have confidence in The Baron, I have confidence that we will achieve greatness and his intellect and resourcefulness surpasses that of the Dragoons." He paused for effect-, "But we must stay alive to get to that glory. Possibly we could wait for the World Federation to topple the Dragoons and we make our rise."
"Waya?" Thread Walker said tentatively, as if for permission to interject.
He bid her speak with a toil of his hand.
"If the World Federation was crushing the Dragoons then they would give up their claims to Europe and take what we and others have established."
"So," Alien said, balancing his fork AND spoon on the salt shaker with the laws of physics, "are you saying war is the only option?"
His glasses shined in the light out from his thin black hair so I couldn't see his eyes. He is a independent villain that I fellowship with, but he may as well be one of us. He needs our brawn and we need his braincase, but he's here for other reasons. He's really here for his affections for MasterLock, a blonde with the power to unlock doors and computers as she touches them. I would word it as feelings, but snails have more feelings than him. No, a snail is too humble; snakes have more feeling than him.
The woman continued,
"We can't pay the debt, so it is war."
After he gently let go of his physics experiment, he coiled his hands in his lap. How he gets his glasses glaring in the light is beyond me, arching a brow, he said,
"You are a simple and impulsive fool." She almost objected but he continued, "There is another option," he coiled his fist over the table, "Reason." He returned his hands, "Alongside the infamy of their excessive killing is a mediocre trust with reasoning. Alongside power is envy, and alongside rulers is enemies. What if the Dragoon's enemies bribed these men to desert and cause us to throw ourselves on the schemers enemy? Overestimation is as deadly as underestimation. Unlike you, I don't like walking on threads."
Thread Walker clenched her teeth in icy rage.
"I have another point to present," I said.
"Yes, Godfather?"
"Where is AoDD and Magmantis?"
AoDD is a good friend of mine, and when I sent out a text saying this meeting is important he said he would be here. AoDD is pronounced like 'awed' but it is the abbreviation of his full name, the Angel of Death and Doom. He'd never betray my trust.
Magmantis is like Alien, he has his own motivations, including bitterness toward us and especially AoDD. When I sent a message to him he said he was preoccupied. Preoccupied? Hmm, preoccupied with what? Everyone caught on to my suspicions.
"Hmph," Alien said, "it SEEMS," he stressed, "that we have a comrade raising his heel against us and assuming his will above ours."
"Well then," I said forcefully, "let's make sure. EVERYONE," I stressed, "suit up."