Something M.Y.T.H. Inc.

FOUR

It is a well known fact that events do not always follow anticipated plans when occurring. This is particularly obvious to one in my own chosen line of work, as it is the main reason that a peace lovin' individual such as myself finds it necessary to stock what has become known as 'tools of the trade,' which is to say an assortment of blunt and not-so-blunt instruments. Ninety percent of the situations requirin' violence occur when things do not go as planned and priorities shift from profitability to survival.

But I digress.

I had figured that the biggest difficulty involved with our sub-rosa scoutin' mission would be gettin' the Boss to go along with it without actually lettin' him know what we was doin'. As it turned out, this was very easily accomplished, partially because he was distracted tryin' to figure out what to do about the kingdom's finances, and partially because he had started drinkin' early that day ... somethin' which seems to go hand in glove with workin' with numbers. In any case, with a minimum of verbal duckin' and weavin', I emerged with a scroll reassignin' Spyder as Royal Investigator and his approval for Pookie and me to tag along as his personal envoys. Piece of cake.

As to the actual scoutin', I figured it would literally be a walk in the country. A stroll around the kingdom away from hassles and jealousies of the palace and court. Un-fortuitously, as Nunzio is so fond of pointin' out to me, I am not the swiftest or most detail-oriented person when it comes to such calculations.

What I had overlooked in my assessment of this assignment was who I would be workin' with: to wit, Spyder and Pookie.

Now, I must hasten to qualify that by sayin' that I have nothin' against either of these two. I've always had a soft spot for Spyder since our days in the Army when she kept mouthin' off to the Drill Instructor who was easily three times her size, taking the best he could dish out in the way of backlash, and still keep givin' him attitude. (Okay. So it wasn't real smart, but it showed a never-say-die spirit that is not all that easy to find these days.) As for Pookie, everything I've seen about her marks her as a seasoned pro, starting with our first meetin' when she knocked me cold but didn't kill me when she thought I was attackin' the boss.

All of which is to say that I like Spyder and I respect Pookie. As such, it never occurred to me that there would be any problem with the three of us workin' together as a team. I still maintain my reasonin' was correct as far as it went. The factor that I didn't take into consideration was that we had set up a team consistin' of one male, which was me, and two females ... both of whom had what might be politely referred to as 'highly competitive natures.'

This oversight rapidly became apparent soon after our tour had started. We had stopped for our first rest break, which was really Spyder and me restin' while Pookie roamed on ahead a little "to look things over."

"So tell me, Swatter," Spyder sez, starin' after Pookie, "why is it we need three people for this scouting mission?"

Now, right away I don't like the sounds of this, but decide to play it straight at least for the beginnin'. I mean, on the off chance Spyder is on the level, it is part of the duty of the old guard to help the newcomers gain experience by answerin' their questions so's they don't have to learn everything by trial and error.

"The main reason is that there's safety in numbers," I sez. "Seein' as how we are not sure how many of the opposition there may be, much less who they are or what level of skill or arms they might have, we have a better chance of dissuadin' them from doin' anything foolish with a substantial show of strength on our side. What is more, should we fail in said dissuadin', that same strength increases our odds of survivin' said foolishness once they commence the doin'."

"I'm not quite sure I got that," she sez.

I sigh, realizin' once more that a goodly percentage of the population does not share my command of the language.

"Simply put, three of us will make anyone think long and hard about jumping us... and if they do, we can probably make them wish they hadn't."

"Oh. Got it," she sez.

She lapses into silence for a while, and I congratulate myself on my abilities as a teacher.

"But why her?" Spyder continues suddenly.

"Excuse me?" I sez, momentarily caught off guard in midself-congratulatin'.

"You have a fairly good-sized crew back there at the palace," she sez. "Why did you have to insist on dragging along the lizard lady? For that matter, you and I could probably handle things on by ourselves."

Now, I have a clear recollection of Spyder bein' at the meetin' when Pookie volunteered to come along with us, but no memory at all of my insistin' on that point. Rather than arguin' this, however, I decide to cut to the chase and go after the main issue at hand.

"Why, Spyder, I am surprised at you," I sez, shakin' my head. "For a minute there you sounded just like a jealous female."

"It isn't that, Swatter ... well, not entirely," she sez. "It's just that having someone else along is like saying that you don't think I'm good enough to cover your back. And then when you make it her... I guess it's hard for me not to take it personally."

"Now I want you to listen to this close," I sez sternly, " 'cause I do not want to have to go over it again. You are a good kid, Spyder, and I have liked you since the first day we met in boot camp. You are tougher than any three army types I have met, exceptin' maybe me and Nunzio when we was in, and I would never worry if you was coverin' my back. You're smart, and you got great potential and a good future at whatever you decide to apply yourself to. In contrast, though, Pookie is a professional. She has made her decision and already done her developin'. What is more, from what I've learned about Pervects like her and Aahz, she's been a professional for longer than you've been alive. She is good at what she does, and we are lucky to have her along on this caper. Don't let the professional respect I have for her detract from your knowledge of the affection and admiration I hold for you. Instead of sulkin' and feelin' bad, you should be takin' advantage of this chance to watch her in action. You can maybe learn a few things, which is what I am hopin' to do myself."

At this, Spyder sort of grunts and pulls into herself. I am not completely able to ascertain if this is because she is considerin' my words or merely sulkin'. In part, this is because Pookie has reappeared and I am slightly distracted watching as she approaches us.

As she promised back at the palace, Pookie has changed her appearance by the use of a disguise spell so she will not upset or frighten the local populace, most of whom are not used to seein' a demon strollin' down the road. To this end, she has replaced her normal green scales, yellow eyes, and pointed ears with skin and hair similar to those of us who normally dwell in mis dimension. That, however, is as far as she has gone with her disguise.

What she has not changed is the fact that she is noticeably a female type. I had considered suggestin' to her that she might be less noticeable and more authoritative if she had disguised herself as a male type, but upon further consideration felt that it might be detrimental to my continued good health to attempt to argue the male/female thing with her.

Further addin' to her current image is that she has retained her normal workin' clothes, which for her consists of a sort of skin-tight leather jump suit with assorted straps and slash pockets for carryin' her arsenal. Not only does this outfit fail to hide the above-mentioned fact that she is female, it also clearly marks her as someone who is not normally from these parts.

Last but not least, the disguise spell has done nothing to change the way she moves. Now if this latter piece of information does not mean anything to you, then you have never spent any time in a profession or situation wherein your survival depends on an accurate appraisal of the violence potential of those comin' toward you before the actual action starts. For most people, movin' consists of little more than puttin' one foot in front of the other. In this manner, they manage to propel themselves from place to place without fallin' over, but that is about the extent of it. Trained athletes and those such as myself who have developed their muscles for use beyond normal walk-a-day necessities are more smooth and balanced when they move, but still tend to be a bit on the heavy-footed side. Pookie is one of the rare types that do not move so much as they glide. Not only are they always balanced, but each gesture and movement flows into the next like it is some dance that only they hear the music to. When you see someone who moves in this manner, as pleasing as it is to the eye, I strongly advise that you do not enter into a hassle-type confrontation with them, for they are likely able to tag you three hits to your one and from directions you did not consider possible to be hit from. Movin' as she does, it is clear to me that, disguise spell or no, Pookie will not exactly blend into the crowd wherever we go.

As I said, however, it is pleasin' to the eye (professionally speakin', of course) and I allow myself this pleasure as she walks up and plops down next to me.

"So, have you managed to settle things with your little girlfriend?" she sez, shooting a glance over at Spyder's back, as that individual has chosen to walk away as Pookie approached.

Now havin' just played this scene with Spyder, I am in no mood to treat such banter lightly.

"Pookie," I sez, "meanin' no disrespect to your age, the exact numbers of which you have not chosen to share, I must ask if you can still recall bein' young?"

This earns me a sideways glance and a pause before she responds.

"It's a stretch," she sez, "but I think I have some dim recollection of those days."

"In that case," I sez, "you might recall how it was when you was first getting started in the rough-and-tumble business. However cocky you might have been at the time, there was always a strong undercurrent of insecurity. The funny thing was, even more than wonderin' how you would match up against the opposition when the crunch went down, you was worried about fittin' in with those who were on your own side. To my estimation, that is what is goin' on with our young colleague over there."

"Hmrn. Interesting point," Pookie sez, nodding slowly. "You know, Guido, you're a lot more sensitive and perceptive than you let on."

"To answer your question, however," I sez, ignorin' the compliment as I have never been good at acceptin' them, "Spyder did ask me about your role in our expedition. What I told her was that rather than viewin' you as a rival, that she would be better off puttin' her jealousies and insecurities aside and learnin' from you, as you are obviously a professional who would never let such things affect your actions or judgments."

"Ouch," Pookie sez with a grimace. "Okay, Guido. You've made your point. I'll pull in my claws and take the little darling under my wing ... to mix a metaphor."

"Good," I sez. "That will probably make this caper much easier on all of us."

"Speaking of that," Pookie sez, "can you give me a bit more input as to exactly what it is we're doing? I've been in a lot of different kinds of action, but a tax investigator or a royal envoy is a new one to me."

"Actually," I sez, "this is not a bad time for us to go over that together. Hey, Spyder!"

When she looks over, I beckon for her to join us.

"We were just talkin' about how this might be a good time to go over how we are goin' to approach this caper," I explain.

"Now, as I see it, we are supposed to be checkin' out what, if any, plots are bein' hatched against the Boss and either neutralize them or report back to the team to plan some counter-measures."

"That's the plan as I understand it," Spyder sez with a shrug. "Since most of the rumors we've gotten have come from the Army types who have been reassigned as tax collectors, we're going to try to intercept them at one of their rendezvous points and interview them to find out exactly what's going on. Depending on what we hear, we'll make our plans from there."

"Right," I sez. "The rendezvous point we are headin' for right now is the one for the tax teams workin' the population centers closest to the palace. The theory there bein' that those areas pose the most immediate-type threat to the Boss."

"Okay. I understand all that," Pookie sez. "I guess my question is, how do we play it? Are we the velvet glove or the iron fist?"

"That is indeed going to be the tricky part," I sez. "On the one hand we want to put a stop to any foolishness which might be in the makin', but on the other hand we have got to be careful that we do not inadvertently stir up more trouble than we are quellin'. Again, we will just have to wait and see who and what it is we are up against."

"Well, we aren't going to find out sitting around here," Spyder sez. "I guess it's time for us to get moving again. Ummm ... Pookie? Can I talk with you for a bit? I've got some questions about your disguise spell."

"Sure, kid," Pookie sez. "Whatever you want to know."

I wait for a while, curious about what it is they are goin' to say, but then I realize they are both starin' at me. Takin' the hint, I get up and start along the trail again. They give me a bit of a lead, then follow along, just out of earshot.

As much as I had encouraged them both to talk to each other, I find this arrangement to be a bit annoyin', as it leaves me with no one to talk to except myself. Then, as the sound of both of them laughin' reaches me, I begin to contemplate which is worse: Travelin' with two women who do not get along, or travelin' with two women who do.