dAG : The Face Behind the Mask

Deviant Guild
The Face Behind the Mask


The room was little more than a concrete box. The only way in was through a solid metal door, and the strongest source of light came from a single bare bulb hanging pathetically from the ceiling, casting its radiance over a heavily modified metal chair. Leather straps had been attached to the legs, arms and back, and the chair itself had been bolted to the floor. The chair faced the only wall that wasn't solid concrete: the top half was a one-way window, reflecting the room.

“Isn't this a bit extreme?” the dark-haired Filipina asked, turning away from the window. This room, while equally dim as the prison cell they looked out on, contained a few spartan furnishings, making the space feel small but comfortable, in a practical sort of way.

Standing behind one of the chairs was a man with long blond hair, styled in a way that would have been better suited to a previous age. “No,” he said simply, gripping tightly to the back of the chair. “Angel's submitting control of her body over to...” he paused, searching for the right words, “...to the SCRAP.”

“For someone you lot feel the need to introduce us to,” the last of the three people in the room, a woman with long, brown, curly hair and large dark sunglasses spoke up from her chair against the back wall, “you lot seem to have trouble saying th' bloke's name.”

“I'm sorry we have to be like this, Kez,” the blond man apologized. “In order to get him to consent to appear at all, we had to negotiate an agreement with him. One of his demands was the right to introduce himself.”

“Isn't he... well, you, Terrance?” the girl asked, causing the man to bristle slightly.

“No.” Terrance almost snapped the reply, then reined in his temper. “He's as close to being ’me’ as the west is to the east.”

A squeal erupted from speakers hanging over the window, cutting off any further questions as the metal door in the other room swung open.

“Showtime,” Kez joked weakly, a grimace on her face as she stood up from her chair and moved to the glass.

On the other side of the window, the metal door was swinging open to admit two people. One was a powder blue bipedal reptile with violet patches covering his eyes like a mask and running between a pair of bat-like wings down his back to the base of a ropey tail. One clawed hand carried a smooth copper staff. He had to duck so he didn’t snag his large golden antlers on the door frame as he stepped aside for his companion: a tall woman, younger than Kez but not much older than the other girl, with scruffy brown hair and wearing a pair of glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of her nose.

She turned to the window. “Hey Kez, hey Missy. You ready?” Her voice sounded tinny as it filtered through hidden microphones from her side and piped through cobbled-together speakers on the observers’ side.

The Eighties hair-metal reject pointed to what looked to be a salvaged apartment building intercom built into the wall next to the window.

The younger woman didn't move; it was Kez who pressed the button. “Anything we should know before we start summoning grand high-and-mighty head-screw monsters?” she asked flippantly, her expression neutral as she removed her fingers from the button.

On the other side the woman smiled nervously. “Just follow Terrance's lead. He knows best in this situation,” she assured them.

Terrance rolled his eyes as he approached the intercom. “I suggested we just forget about this whole bad idea this morning,” he grumbled into the microphone, “but you weren't so willing to listen to me then.”

On the other side the woman's expression turned sad. “Sorry, Terry, needs to be done.” She settled down in the chair, the dragon securing each strap.

“You're remarkably calm for what we're about to do, Angel,” the dragon said gently as he tightened the strap around her right wrist, just enough to keep her arm from moving from its place on the armrest, but loose enough that it didn't hurt or cut off circulation.

“Oh, I'm scared out of my wits,” she admitted, taking a deep shaking breath. “But like I said: it's a job that needs to be done.” Odd shapes carved into the leather of the straps began to glow a faint violet. “Besides, the more people who know about him, the less mischief he can get up to.”

The dragon grunted as he buckled Angel's left wrist down. “I would like to know how you got him to agree to this. As far as we know, he could run off with your body any time today.”

“He won't,” she replied firmly. “Trust me, Baiulus.”

The dragon looked up at her from his kneeling position where he had been strapping down her legs. “Angel, what did you–”

“I did what had to be done,” she replied, cutting him off. “It's been taken care of now, Baiulus, don't worry about it.”

“Hmph,” Baiulus huffed, giving the human an unhappy look as he got back to his feet. “You're supposed to be the one responsible for all of us, and yet here you go doing foolish things and making me worry.”

“I'm sorry,” Angel replied as Baiulus secured the last strap, this one stretching over her chest and shoulders. The violet light coming from the runes carved into the leather cast a strange glow on her face.

“What is it?”

“Could you hold onto my glasses for me? He'd break them if he had the chance.”

The dragon smiled dryly as he delicately plucked the thin frames from the girl's face. Her bright blue eyes shone gratefully between overlong bangs. “Thanks,” she said as the dragon placed a leathery hand over her eyes.

“What is he doing?” Kez asked, her gaze never leaving the scene on the other side of the window.

“A sleeping spell. It'll allow Angel to rest comfortably and let the SCRAP take over without any stress to her.”

“Then what's to stop him from coming out when Angel's asleep or unconscious?”

“Nothing,” Terrance admitted flatly. “Angel's willpower keeps him contained, but nothing we've tried can block him out entirely. He's probably just trying to get her to crack before he breaks out all on his own.”

“It's done.” Baiulus' voice came through the speakers, interrupting the conversation. The trio watched as the dragon stepped away from the unconscious human, retreating into one corner. A circle of glowing violet runes leapt to life on the floor, centred on the chair.

“Are those runes...?” Kez's companion, the one Angel had affectionately called 'Missy', looked worriedly at the grumpy blond.

“From Willow Hill? Yes, they are,” Terrance said, expression equally worried. “Baiulus managed to recreate them to a certain extent. They'll block transformations and keep Angel's body in the circle, but nothing really creepy or dangerous like in Willow Hill.”

“Come on, Miss Catspaw!” Kez grimaced despite her jovial tone of voice. “You aren't nervous, are you? With all the precautions Angel's group have taken I'm sure we're as safe as we could possibly–”

A peculiar laugh erupted from the speakers. It sounded deviously amused and nervous all at once, bordering on maniacal. it was louder and cleaner than what had originally piped through the speakers, almost to the point where it sounded like the laugh came from inside both rooms simultaneously.

Terrance winced, grabbing at his ears. “Ow, dammit!” he hissed.

“Are you alright?” Miss Catspaw asked.

“I think so,” he replied, not moving his hands away from his head. “That laugh... it hurts! Like it's trying to crush my skull.” Terrance didn't bother to elaborate further, simply glaring at the speakers in a vain attempt to silence the creepy laughter with the laser vision that he didn't have.

All three jumped as the hanging light in the cell room exploded with a flash and a noisy pop. The light in their own room soon followed, raining shards of glass and sparks down on the observers. Both rooms were plunged into darkness, the purple glow of the runes casting a creepy light that was only barely enough to see by.

The sound of cracking was the only warning the group got for the finale of the spooky show. Miss Catspaw looked up to see the spidery fractures in the glass crawling down towards them.

“Get away from the window!” she cried, grabbing Terrance and Kez by their shirts and pulling them back before the glass shattered into a thousand pieces and rained down on the floor.

“Whoa, nice save kid!” Kez crowed nervously, grasping at her chest. Beneath her words the laughter continued as if nothing had happened. “Bit close, that. Glad you managed to catch on.”

“Dammit!” Terrance roared, turning his gaze to the unconscious woman strapped to the metal chair. “Stop it with the melodramatic bullshit and show yourself!”

And just like that, the laughter stopped.

“Awwww, Terry,” a clearly masculine voice rumbled out from the depths of Angel's body as it straightened, her blue eyes now a bloody scarlet. “You'll have to forgive the pranks; it's been so long since I've been able to stretch the proverbial legs, as it were.” Angel's face twisted into an amused smirk, completely unnatural to what was normally a calmer, kinder human.

“Hello, Missy Cats-paw!” the baritone voice coming from Angel drawled affectionately. “Hello Madam cracked, kooky, quirky, Krazy Kez the so-called Kartoonist!” Angel's right arm flexed and her left leg twitched against the restraints. “I am Angel Warrior Queen's mystery SCRAP, and the source of the shape-shifting powers that are so common in her little ragtag band. You can call me ‘T’.”

“I thought you said Angel couldn't do transformations with those runes?” Miss Catspaw asked, casting a nervous glance to Baiulus, who remained as still and quiet as stone in his space in the corner of the room. A vague worried look creased his reptilian features and there was a tightness in his posture.

It was T who answered. “Oh, it normally would,” he admitted gaily, clearly having the time of his life as he flexed and wiggled Angel's body into a position more comfortable for himself. “If Angel's power were like Miss Alliteration-pants over there.” He nodded the woman's head towards Kez. “But seeing as I am not a two-bit, flea-ridden mutt, it had no such effect.”

“Two-bit?!” Kez squawked, turning red from either embarrassment or anger; it was impossible to tell behind her glasses.

Angel's body wriggled again. “Hush now, kid, the grownup is talking,” he chuckled, cutting off Kez's spluttering tirade. “I'm just playing nice today because Angel and I had an agreement.” His gaze turned to Terrance. “So you could let me out, Terry! I keep my promises; you don't have to leave poor Angel in this silly chair.”

“You'll stay right there and like it,” Terrance said firmly, clear hate in his eyes for the being that overrode his Author's consciousness.

“Phht. Once a party pooper, always a party pooper,” T groaned, scarlet eyes rolling in disgust.

“Why ‘T’?” Miss Catspaw asked, curiosity now piqued by the quirky entity. “You can't possibly have a name that consists of only one letter.”

“You're right,” he replied, his expression turning cheerful again. “‘T’ is not truly my real name. But you know what would happen if I told you my real name?” He somehow gave the appearance of leaning back in the chair, despite being strapped in and the chair bolted to the floor. “You Guild types would valiantly try to save your dear friend, put all your resources to work to block me out of Angel's mind... or try to control me!”

“Knowing a thing’s true name grants power over it,” Baiulus rumbled from his corner. His eyes were smouldering yellow flecks of loathing.

Oh, very good, very good! You’ll have to give yourself a round of applause, though, I’m afraid.” He tugged at the restraints with a grin. “Pity for you that old legend hardly applies to someone such as myself, and don’t think for a second I haven’t taken precautions against being... how do you say... leashed.”

The satisfied smirk turned into a very dark glare. “Not only would that not work, it would be very annoying,” he growled. “I have better things to do than deal with every hotshot wannabe mage trying to bring me to heel.”

“My, what a big ego you have,” Kez snarked. “You make yourself sound all-powerful, but I just see someone waving vague threats from the body of a friend of mine.”

T scowled furiously. It was a disturbing sight to behold for the group, considering it was done with the face of a close friend.

“Kez!” Miss Catspaw squeaked in alarm. “You really shouldn't antagonize him!”

“Relax, kid, Baiulus has got us covered–”

The sound of sizzling mixed with a sharp snapping noise cut off Kez's line of thought as the flesh on Angel's right arm began to boil and writhe. The runes carved into the leather shone brighter and even began throwing sparks off in every direction.

“Stop!” Baiulus barked. “You'll hurt Angel!”

With a sharp yank, Angel's arm was pulled free from its restraint, the skin still bubbling. The smell of burnt meat and leather filled the air as the glowing runes on that strap died.

“She's tougher than you think, old gator-chops!” T chuckled, resting Angel's freed arm back on the armrest. “But fine, I won't do that again. I do keep my promises, after all.”

“You're sharing her body; don't you feel that?” Miss Catspaw cringed at the sight of the painful burn.

“Not really,” T shrugged. “Though to correct you, I'm not really sharing her body. Not completely, anyway. That honour goes to my dear descendant, Terrance.”

The two women looked at Terrance. “It's a long story!” he groaned, running his hand through his fluffy blonde hair. “But yes, he's normally in my head alone. Something weird happened when the Projection occurred.”

“To put it mildly!” T crowed. “Here I was, trapped behind the damned Muse's seal, when all of the sudden I find two delightful new minds opening themselves before me!”

“Angel and Chimera,” Terrance filled in quietly.

“Millennia of imprisonment gets so dull after the first century or two, so of course I jump at the excuse to, ah, slip into something more comfortable.” That twisted leer made everyone cringe. “One mind appeared to be very dull, so I go check the other out and BAM!” he shouted, slamming the free hand down onto the armrest to emphasize the point.

“I find out all these interesting things! That apparently I never existed, that I'm just the antagonist in a storybook for these brats known as Cassidy and Terrance Marx!” He laughed long and hard.

“I'll assume that doesn't bother you?” Kez queried, concerned by T's flippancy.

“You assume correctly! You humans have had it soft! All your monsters are just larvae waiting to be hatched! So much glorious raw potential for mayhem!” he cackled before catching his breath. “Whew, sorry. Haven't gotten this excited in... well... ever!”

“So you're against the human race?” Miss Catspaw asked.

“Nope.”

“You're Pro SCRAP?”

“Nope!” T grinned. “I'm pro me. I'm bored, and you Deviant Guild people, and the governments, and the extremists, and anyone else out there, Human or SCRAP... I wanna see you all run like your miserable mortal lives depend on it. Because they do. And because it amuses me.” He stretched Angel's body again. “Maybe once all is said and done, when the fires are put out and the world worships me properly, I'll take a few Authors as my consorts...”

He suddenly forced Angel's head to tilt at an uncomfortable and highly disturbing angle. “You ladies interested? You can be my numbers two and three right after I finish having fun with Angel.”

“That's enough!” Baiulus barked as he struck the ground with the copper rod, causing a bell-like tone to reverberate through the room.

Angel's body jolted to attention, much to the distress of the current occupant.

“Oh damn it all to hell, you bastard!” T roared angrily. “I wasn't done yet!”

Baiulus' response was to strike the floor a second time, with the same bell-like result.

“Augh! Keep an eye on your sister, boy!” T snarled, glaring at Terrance. “Nothing's keeping me from using Angel's hands to break her neck, and then watch out!”

“Wrong,” Terrance said coolly as Baiulus struck the floor a third time. “Team AngelFang will keep you right where you belong.”

“Uuuugh that is so coooornnnn...” T trailed off as Angel's eyes changed from bloody red to sky blue.

“Oooow,” Angel whimpered, her voice rough as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Gingerly she lifted her burned right arm so it didn't  rest so heavily on the chair.

“You okay, kid?” Kez asked as the SCRAPS went about the busy work of unbuckling their Author from the chair, the runes fading away as they went.

“Yeah...” she muttered, blinking owlishly in the dark. “What did that jerk do while I was out?”