//------------------------------// // Chapter 4- True Colors // Story: Conning The Con Artists // by WeirdBeard //------------------------------// Conning The Con Artists Chapter 4- True Colors "I daresay I would have made you two my honorary brewmeisters. I mean, it's hard enough creating all this havoc without some hard alcohol on the side," Discord states matter-of-factly, gesturing his arm at the landscape. His eyes narrow at both of us. "And as much fun as that whole chase thing was, today's been more annoying than it should have and this isn't worth making you come voluntarily. Booze is booze regardless if you're really in control of yourself, puppets." We should have known it was a lost cause trying to run from the all powerful being. Can you really blame us though for trying? Being forever indentured to the Spirit of Chaos isn't exactly on our bucket list. Then again, neither was getting hog-tied in a Neighpon brothel. Woof. "We're not interested in being your puppets! Why don't you just leave us alone?" Flam questions, breaking my train of thought. My mustached brother stomps a hoof toward Discord in an attempt of intimidation. However, it's ruined as he slips on the mashed potatoes we're still standing on. The draconequus cackles loudly. "Have you already forgotten who you're talking to?! You know what, don't answer that. I feel like a broken record with how many times I've had to have this conversation today. Now, who's first to give up their will?" Helping my brother to his hooves, I glare back at our foe. "Forget it, you fiend, go jump in a lake!" "I'll take that as a 'Me first' answer. One whipped Flim coming right up!" Discord shouts, lifting his arm to snap his talons. Before he can perform whatever magic he's about to conjure, Flam interjects with an angry yell, "NO!" His horn flashes a radiant green and shoots forth a beam of the same color. With amazing precision, it collides dead center with Discord's fist. "Ragh!" our foe howls, shaking his arm from the unexpected pain. His eagle limb is still intact, but blackened and smoking. His attention turns back to Flam with a look of pure unadulterated rage. If he wasn't mad before, there's certainly no doubt that he is now. "If you wanted to go first, then why didn't you say so?!" Discord springs toward my brother, rearing his unscathed lion arm back to attack. However, I feel a surge of adrenaline rush through me in response as I charge my own magic. Surprising even myself, a blast of green magic smashes into his outstretched limb and causes him to bellow once more. A sharp crack echoes loudly around us and the draconequus disappears suddenly. Flam and I look about wildly, searching for any sign of Discord. It couldn't be that easy to beat him, could it? "Gettin' real tired of your shit, FlimFlam brothers," Discord calls out, still untraceable as his voice echoes. Before either of us can respond though, I feel something encircle my neck and squeeze. I barely register that it's the draconequus' paw as he lifts me high above the ground. Flam looks ready to tear off Discord's head, but misses the chance as the mashed potatoes rush up his body and encase him. I try to yell my brother's name or even say anything for that matter. However, little more than a chortle escapes my lips as Discord grips my throat tighter. "You two are lucky you even scratched me. If it wasn't for the trouble the Elements gave me earlier, your stupid 'brotherly love' wouldn't have done a thing to me. Yet here I am, the GOD of chaos, being wounded by twats. Can't have that happen again," Discord says angrily. A muffled yell resonates from where Flam is trapped, but I can't make out what he said. Already my vision is blurring while I struggle for breath in Discord's stranglehold. "Well, it wasn't nice knowing you and I hope we don't see each other again. Send my regards to those other brats I've trumped." The draconequus bids us farewell sardonically, a bright flash of chaotic magic filling my darkened vision. I feel like I'm falling in slow-motion, all of my limbs threatening to rip apart by some unseen force. Despite Discord's next words echoing loudly in my mind, I find myself praying that Flam and I will be okay. "For five score, divided by four..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hey! Wake up!" someone with a gravely voice commands. The request sounds faint due to my gradual awakening and my eyes only reveal blurs when I blearily open them. I guess it seems I'm not waking up fast enough because I'm immediately splashed with a bucket of water. Yes sir, I definitely have bigger problems than analyzing that tripped out dream I had again. The ice-cold liquid nullifies my grogginess as my head springs up instantly. Jeez, one of the worst ways to wake up bar none. Not like I could retaliate though with my hands chained to a bulky overhead pipe. The chains aren't cutting too bad into me, but it's certainly not comfortable. My feet barely hang above the begrimed floor. Even though I'm alert by that awakening, I feel exhausted and battered like I had been tossed around. Seeing where we are, that may actually have been the case. I'm not even surprised that we're in some dark room again. There's some emergency lighting near the bottom of the walls, but they barely give off any light. Whoever splashed me has left the room and it seems I'm alone. A rattle from my left proves me wrong, however, and I glance over to find Jim not too far from me. Least I hope it's him, I can't really tell yet. He's in the same boat and seems to be gauging the strength of the chains and pipe. His frustrated grunts tell me all I need to know of how difficult an escape would be. "Jim?" He looks over to me and squints. "Cal? You alright?" "Yeah, good as I can be." I purposefully cough to clear my throat from how raspy I sound. My mouth is incredibly dry and feels like I haven't had anything to drink for days. A closer glance at my watch reveals that it thankfully hasn't been that long, but still six hours from when we were attacked. Six hours from when they had burned down our home. The memory strikes a flame of anger within me and I find myself jostling against my restraints. However, it proves fruitless as the chains dig deeper into my wrists. So much for that. I bite my lower lip and look around the room once again. Despite the low-level lighting, the white walls and floor make it a little easier to see. Several hanging hooks and wheeled trays are scattered about the room. On every surface around, a number of dark-colored stains seemingly radiate in the dark. It could be from the ice water being thrown at me, but it's absolutely freezing and I find myself shivering. The loud noise of a switch being flicked echoes from the doorway and cheap fluorescent lighting bathes the room in a sickly glow. Walking quite arrogantly into the room, and with a shit-eating grin no less, Satanas approaches us with three large guards. "Ah, Los Hermanos Braxton. Good to see you're both awake," he says, but pauses when he looks closer. His expression darkens in puzzlement "Your... what the hell happened to you two? Jesus, Fidelfo, I told you just to chain 'em up." Satanas chides the guard to his left. "Don't play games with us, you cock-munch, we know you drugged us! Wasn't enough that you tattooed us, you had to inject some ghetto ass hormones to screw with our bodies!" Jim shouted in accusation. His outburst surprised me, but not as much as what I see when I look his way. Holy hell. His previously short hair is now shoulder length, as well as being an intense hue of red. A white stripe runs down the middle of his thick locks. That wasn't the only hair growth though as he now sports a bushy red mustache. All of this, however, is not what baffles me the most. It's the long, pointy ears that now poke out in the midst of his hair. "Tattoo? I didn't tattoo you, what are you talking about, payaso? I heard you two were weird, but this is the stuff of brujas," Satanas replies. His eyes remain on Jim for a moment, before he glances at me in equal bafflement. "Weren't the one with the mustache earlier?" "What do you mean you didn't ta-," Jim snarls in question, but stops when he looks at me. His face mirrors Satanas' incredulity as he stares at my head. "...Cal? Your... ears-" my brother attempts to state. I lick my upper lip. Sure enough, like Satanas mentioned, my beloved mustache is missing in action. Dammit. "I think we're in the same boat, brother of mine." Jim raises a brow and tries to look upwards, his eyes almost rolling back. However, his gaze spots the colorful red hair that now sits atop his head. After a few moments of stunned disbelief, he suddenly wracks angrily against the chains holding him. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO US?!" Satanas doesn't answer, still looking like he just saw a ghost. He quickly shakes his head though and waves a hand to one of his guards. "Raul, go find one of our payroll doctors. These two might be infectious or something." While the named guard leaves the room, our captor pulls a flask out of his jacket. He takes a quick swig after uncapping it and steps closer to Jim. "Now look here, let's not be throwing accusations out like Christmas presents. I tell you what: you help me, then I'll help you." "Like hell you will," I quickly retort. You'd have to be dumber than a fence post to trust someone like Satanas. My immediate rejection, however, causes the drug lord to quickly smash his fist into my stomach. I should have expected the punch, but I'm unable to brace myself from his speedy attack. The blow knocks the air out of my lungs and I hunch over (as much as I could hanging from the ceiling) in reaction. "You're only making this harder on yourselves, boys. Just tell me your secrets- foreign bank info, private investments, everything- and we can all go home happy," our captor snidely explains. Jim struggles harder against his chains, rage overtaking his vision. "Get bent, Satanas! Think you're hot shit railing on my brother while he's restrained and drugged up?! C'mon here, ya putz, you probably punch as hard as your dad's limp dick!" Satanas falls easily to the goading and rushes at my brother. With that same speed, he grasps his shoulders and brutally headbutts Jim. The resounding crack is disconcertingly loud and even the two remaining guards shudder at the impact. The drug lord, insanely enough, doesn't seem to be phased by it and grins wickedly. A trickle of blood runs down his head as he leans closer to Jim. "If you want to live, I suggest you cooperate." "What's wrong, sweetie, got a date tonight?" I ask , smirking. It may appear stupid and reckless what we're doing, but people are more prone to make mistakes when they're angry. Giving Satanas what he wants isn't part of our to-do list, but we couldn't do much else in our position. It was a risky gambit, but one where we had success in the past. Plus, I need to get the drug lord's attention on me, Jim looks bad with that head trauma. To my surprise, and to the guards it looks like, Satanas chuckles quietly. He glances at me, beginning to laugh louder. Suddenly, he pulls out a pistol from behind his back and aims it at my head. "You're a funny one, Cal. I got a joke for ya," he says steadily. The abrupt change from mad giggling to a measured expression is more than a little eerie. He pushes the barrel of the weapon against my forehead and asks, "How many bullets does it take to kill a Braxton?" Before either Jim or I can answer, one of the guards steps forward. "Easy there, Leo, we need 'em alive," he explains evenly. Glad to see these psychos have a voice of reason in Fidelfo. Least I think that's his name. "Easy?" Satanas asks while still facing me. Let's not forget the gun against my head still. "Do you think I'm not in control, Fidelfo?" "I'm just telling you not to do anything rash," Fidelfo replies. The drug lord whirls his pistol away from me and fires at the sane guard. The gunshot pierces Fidelfo's chest, ripping out his back. He looks at the wound and then back to Satanas in shock, before he collapses to his knees and falls forward. "How's THAT for rash?! I know exactly what I'm doing!" Satanas screams angrily. Like I said before, mistakes are made in anger. Almost immediately, a loud bang echoes beyond the doorway and three more members of Los Reyes barge into the room. Raul leads the charge, question and concern upon his face. "What happened? Is everythin alright?" "Yes! The Braxtons were just about to tell us everything! It's all in control!" Satanas exclaims, turning back to point his weapon at us. His left eye twitches erratically. Raul looks down and sees Fidelfo, bleeding out on the ground. It didn't look like he was breathing. The questioning guard looks back at Satanas, a look of fury crossing his expression. "All in control, ehn? You just killed my brother, Leo." "The hell with your brother!" Satanas retorted. "Chingado, Leo. Put the gun down or I WILL kill you," Raul counters while raising his own pistol. The rest of the guards raise their weapons at Satanas as well. Looks like our gambit worked. Somehow, we had planted the seeds of mutiny. Satanas turns around slowly, raising a brow at his partners. "I think you are all forgetting who's in charge here. Do I need to remind you?" No one says anything and the tense situation thickens even more. All the guards' eyes are trained on Satanas, and his on them. It's only us who spot someone lean around the doorway and drop a canister into the room. Thankfully, both Jim and I know exactly what it is and close our eyes, shielding ourselves away. However, everyone's attention immediately turns to look at the new foreign object. BOOM. Despite preparing for the flash-bang's effects, I lose my hearing in place of a loud white noise. I chance a peek towards the door and see that all of Los Reyes are staggering about blindly. A masked figure in black enters the room, carefully aiming a tranquilizer gun and firing at each of them. With frightening precision, the figure sedates all of the guards and approaches us. I whistle quietly, impressed, and nod my head. "Nice entrance there, stranger. Who do you happen to be?" "I'm Batman," the figure states with a false deep tone, holstering the weapon and pulling out a mini cutting torch. Even though the figure's masked, I can tell a wide smile is across their face. Waiting a few seconds, our rescuer pulls off the mask and reveals her identity. "Maxi? How the hell did you do that? Better yet, how did you find us?" Jim asks incredulously. He watches in befuddlement as she reaches up and begins using the cutting torch on his chains. She laughs and continues to cut away. "I told you all those video games weren't for nothing," she replies. Maxi taps the weakened point, causing Jim's restraints to split and drop him to the floor. "As for how I found you, that's a secret." Jim lands with a quiet 'oofh', but stands back up and brushes himself off. Maxi smiles and approaches me with the torch still in hand. "Whatever, not like you tagged us or something," my brother mutters. "Eh heh, right. Nothing like that," Maxi replies, chuckling nervously. I catch her momentary lapse though and raise my brow. "Wait, did you seriously put tracking chips in us?!" I question. Was that why she was in my room this morning?! "Well it worked, didn't it?" she immediately responds. Jim merely shakes his head and picks up a dropped pistol from the floor. "WHOA! EARS! Forget me, what happened to you guys?!" Maxi exclaims, suddenly noticing our strange changes. "I'm hoping we can find that out," I reply. While all the other guards were knocked out, Satanas somehow remained conscious albeit dazed and out of it. I pulled him up and nodded to Jim. "Alright, turkey, what did you do to us?" Satanas snorts, shaking his head. "I didn't do anything to you two." "Stop lying, you sack of shit! Why are we changing like this? What drugs are in us?" my brother interrogates. Maxi taps my shoulder. "Cal, we probably shouldn't stay here long. The cops are on the way." "I'm not lying, payaso. I just wanted your money, why would I turn you two into a couple of circus freaks?" the drug lord retorts. "You two are dead men by the way." Jim angrily presses the pistol against Satanas' head. I quickly look to his face and see the complete seriousness in his eyes. "Jim. He doesn't know anything. We gotta go." "You killed a patrolman today at the border," my brother tells Satanas, ignoring me for the moment. "Pfft, I killed a lot there. Why should I care?" the drug lord questions. Jim pushes the barrel harder against him. "You took a loving husband and father away from his family. Keith Williams: more than twice the man you could ever hope to be, you damn fiend." "Jim," I quietly say. With caution, I gently place my palm over his hand holding the pistol. Maxi is completely silent, mesmerized by the scene unfolding. "If you do this, we're just like him. This isn't us." Satanas chuckles. "That's right, mariposa, you can't shoot me. You're weak. You're worse than me." "Wrong," Jim replies. He suddenly breaks my hold and glares at the killer, weapon ready to fire. Instead though, he smacks the pistol against Satanas and knocks him out. "I'm better than you." Both Maxi and I release the breaths we didn't realize we were holding. Not an average day unless there's some drama. Jim glances at us both and smiles. Maxi shakes her head, saying, "And I thought I was cheesy. Seriously though, we have to go right now. The cops will be here any minute." "Where though?" I ask, unsure where we can go. Our home's no more and our other hide-outs could be compromised in case there are other Los Reyes. Maxi simply smiles. "Don't worry, I've got an idea," she teases, walking away from Jim and I. We both share a look, but eventually follow after her to who-knows-where. It was around this time, that I had a strange pain in my ass. And I'm not just talking about Maxi.