Shades of Grey
Starsong Lightwing
Cartha Phagan looked calmly at the man who had just walked into her office and explained in fewer words than she would have thought possible that the rumors were true. The Brotherhood of the Blade had invaded her city. The half-Raptrin waited at attention to hear what she wanted to do about it. She let him wait while she considered it.
"Any advice?"
Trey's answer was succinct, as always. "No rookies."
"Obviously."
"Hardcores only."
"Well, that's a little more specific. I assume that ye're thinking the same thing I am, that we should restrict activities until we can track someone down and deliver a...message." Cartha's soft voice gave away nothing to the untrained ear, but her Shades knew her. And he was a hardcore; Shade slang among the 'troops' for those specialized thieves that formed the heart of the organization. He'd been around long enough to know what the subtle deepening of her Caltec brogue meant. This was dangerous business. It would be handled accordingly. Cartha took her business very, very, seriously. "Would ye care t' make it even less general by making some assessments on who might be suitable t' get th' message across most effectively?"
"You."
"I'd intended that."
"Me."
"Reasonable."
"Hestia."
Cartha stopped to consider that. Hestia disliked authority rather deeply; if ordered not to kill the intended recipients, she might well do just that, merely to prove that she could. Still, her loyalty was unshakable--to the Shade, if not necessarily to Cartha herself--and she would certainly add to the image Cartha wished to portray. In spite of her diminutive stature, it was impossible to mistake her for anything than what she was--a killer, and a good one. She would do nicely for a show of force like this, if she could be persuaded to do nothing more than keep back and look menacing. Mentally the cream-feathered Raptrin weighed her options and decided that it was worth the risks. "It'll be delicate, but effective. Three should suffice, aye?"
"Ma'am."
"Fine, then. I'll have Kiala scout us out a likely Blade and we'll get th' arrangements ready. I'll talk t' Hestia myself. Spread th' word t' th' rest. Nobody goes out without my approval until this goes down, th' last thing we need is fer them to get wind of us before we're ready for them t'."
He nodded. "Ma'am." He waited to be dismissed, like the ex-military man he was. That never ceased to amuse Cartha, but her grey eyes were serious as she sent him on his way. No time for humor. There was business to be taken care of.
Kiala Feathershaft trotted in, her wide green eyes deceptively vacant as she looked blandly at her leader. "Som'n up, Cap?"
Cartha flipped her pale blond braid back and fixed the eighteen-year-old with a look that saw through the vapid, cloud-walking expression the girl always wore. "I need ye t' tag a Brotherhood of the Blade member for me and, if possible, find out when his next job is going down."
"Yes, Cap. Anythin' else?" Kiala reacted as if she'd just been asked to pick up a loaf of bread at the market.
"Only if ye can find it, girl. And don't be gettin' yerself tagged, understand, these aren't some lazy politicians without enough smarts to watch their backs. They're professionals."
"Yes'm." She turned and walked out. Cartha would have marvelled at the younger woman's indifference to the apparent impossibility of the task she'd just been given, but she was far too used to it by now.
Hestia's gray eyes first widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. "What do you MEAN I can't kill them?!"
" 'tis just a show of force."
"But what better show of force than to send one of their members back to them in several pieces?!"
Cartha's brogue deepened just slightly. "We want t' warn them, not provoke them. There's still more of 'em, I want t' give 'em a little some'in to think about without bringin' 'em down on our heads."
"But...but...but..." Hestia spluttered angrily. "They won't even know where we are! Why don't we take some of them out to even the odds a little?"
"Ye'd need to take out more than just one or two fer that, and all at once, or ye'd bring the whole nest on us. Don't worry, ye'll most likely have ye're chance eventually."
She couldn't help but think that "eventually" was too long a time. "What about a bomb then? Right in the middle of their headquarters? We could wipe out quite a few of them!"
Cartha sighed inwardly. Bombs had an appalling lack of subtlety that she'd never liked. "And how d'ya expect to find the place, now? Breakin' into a den of thieves is a good way t' get yerself spitted, girl. No, we do this by
their rules, t' show them that we're t' be taken seriously. After that, we show them that this is our town. D'ya understand?"
Hestia folded her arms and glared. "I understand, but I don't like it!"
"I didn't ask ye t' like it. I asked ye t' obey it. Will ye? Because if ye won't, I'll 'ave t' take ye out o' th' squad."
She sighed. Even though not even torture could have dragged it out of her, she admired Cartha deeply and respected her commands, even thoughs she personally thought that her rule was just a little too--Hestia hesitated to say "womanish," since she herself was a woman--gentle at times. "Fine. I won't kill them. For now."
" 'For now' is all I'm askin' for. Sooner or later we'll probably have to have it out with them, and then I'll want ye in th' front lines."
Hestia cheered up considerably at that. "Yes ma'am! That should do nicely, ma'am." She looked down at the gun at her side. "So, when do we go?"
"Oh, 'scuse me," appologized the young blond girl that had just collided with him, nearly dropping her camera. She blinked and blushed suddenly. "'M sorry, sir, I din see ya," she murmured, gazing up at him. Cutter rewarded her obvious admiration with a dazzling smile. Jedar could almost see his ego inflating as he assured the teenager that she was forgiven. She was a pretty little thing, petite and stylishly dressed in jeans that were just a tad two tight and a tank top that matched her green eyes.
She also couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen, eighteen at the very most. Jedar watched his twenty-six year old companion flirt shamelessly. When he'd seen enough to come near making him ill, he grabbed the younger man's arm and politely excused them, dragging Cutter away.
"Now I remember why I always work alone," he grumbled. Jedar rolled his eyes.
"Don't you think she's just a tad young for you?"
"This from the guy who's fallen for a girl eleven years younger than him."
"At least she's an adult."
"It's not like I was going to drag her off and have a mad fling with her, I was just giving her something to tell her girlfriends back home about." Cutter gave him a sly look. "Even so, I'd say there was only an eight or nine year difference, nothing like--"
"Will you let it go?"
"You brought it up."
"That's different."
"Cradle-robber."
"Need I remind you that we're here for a reason? I don't know about you but I'd just as soon get out of the open as soon as possible."
Cutter bit back a retort that would've gotten him sprawled across the sidewalk--probably in several pieces--and turned back to surveying their target. "Besides, we wouldn't be pulling this job in the first place if you hadn't let Nylessa sucker you into it."
"I didn't see you turning down the dare."
"I have an image to protect."
"Right. And I suppose if it had been anyone other than Estelle standing there, you'd still have been so concerned."
"Let's just do the job."
"That's better. What's our best bet?"
They were good, Kiala had to give them that. She raised her camera and aimed it, not at her targets, but to one side of them, backing up slowly, looking for all the world like the wide-eyed tourist she pretending to be. Most people would have merely suspected them to be waiting for someone, or just hanging about taking in the sights, but Kiala's sixth sense told her that they had something to hide. She'd have been willing to bet they would be back the next day.
And they were.
Cartha surveyed the folder Kiala had put in front of her. True to her skill, the girl had found not one, but two Blades. The older woman lifted an eyebrow as Kiala told her what the target was, and wondered briefly if for once her little spy had misinterpreted the information, but dismissed it rather quickly. She certainly had no way of telling whether or not Kiala was correct, so it wasn't worth it to question her, other than a mild "Ye're sure?" to which the answer, of course, was "Yes'm." That was enough. Cartha trusted her Shades.
She studied the photo shots Kiala had provided and frowned. One of the circled off-center faces looked rather familiar--or rather, his hair did. She studied it for a moment and then set it aside, leafing through the other pictures. She paused at one that she recognized as coming from Kiala's special palm-camera, the close-range piece she used for face shots. The angles were a little strange, but the faces were much clearer. A memory flashed out from Cartha's youth, coupled with memories of the newscasts after Canard's death.
Jedar. Cartha sat back thoughtfully.
"These greedy pack-'erders don't know nothing about rewardin' loyalty," her father'd said in his thick Caltec brogue as he loaded up the transport, "Not like the Stormwings did. It's time to move on, lass, there be nothing for us 'ere anymore."
"Aye, Da," she'd chirupped.
"Ye won't be angry wi' me, now?" He hefted her up into the transport's passenger seat. She snorted as he closed the door.
"'Course not, Da. If ye don' like 'em, I don't like 'em neither." She spat out the window onto the concrete in front of the warehouse to prove her point.
"That's me girl," he grinned, climbing up in the driver's seat. "We'll find us some people that's jest as intrested in good work and loyal service as they are in savin' money. I'll lay odds these scruffers'll get busted 'for the year's out, they 'ired such sloppy workers. We don't want any part of that, right girl?"
"No sir!"
"Good. But do yer old Da a favor and don't go spittin' all over the place like that. It's bad manners for me little lass." He reached over and ruffled her short, pale blond hair playfully. "I jest wish we could take yer little playmate with us, but he'll be safe enough now as his sister's got him. These folks jest don't know nothin' about loyalty, turnin' him out like that when his folks made 'em what they are."
Cartha sighed. Well, Jedar, I am sorry we must be enemies, though more for me Da's sake than yours or mine.
She turned back to her plans.
"I can't believe we're knocking off a holo theater," Cutter muttered as he bypassed the circuits linking the holo-generator to the monitoring system. "This is so far beneath our dignity it isn't even funny."
"It wouldn't be a dare if it didn't somehow make us look stupid," Jedar informed him. "Just don't trip any alarms, or we'll never live it down." Cutter spared a moment to give him an acidic look.
"I've broken into just about every military base on this continent, I think I can hack past a holo theater's pathetic excuse for a security system, thank you."
"The guard'll be back this way in five minutes, Cutter."
"I'm scared."
"You should be. The dare was to do this without being seen. That means we need to be gone before he gets back."
"Thank you for explaining that to me," Cutter rolled his eyes and flicked on the small panel he'd wired into the circuits. Nothing happened, and he disconnected the holo generator. Fortuantely, the device wasn't overly large or heavy; they wouldn't have any trouble carrying it. "Alright, it's unhooked, have you got the holo tapes?"
Jedar nodded. "Right here. Shall we go then?"
"If ye gentlemen dinna mind, we'd like a moment of yer time." Jedar spun, his hand darting to a belt pouch, fully expecting to see an armed security guard's self-satisfied smirk.
Instead he found a knife blade against his neck as someone darted forward quicker than lightening. "Hands where I can see them. Now. Your friend too," a clipped female voice demanded. Jedar blinked in confusion, raising his hands away from the pouch and his saber concealed within. The woman had the voice of a police officer, but the blade at his throat suggested otherwise. All he could see of her was the top of her head, as the knife she held prevented him from looking down, or turning his head toward her.
"Do as she says, or ye won't have time t' regret it." The first voice again, and Jedar recognized authority when he heard it. This voice was also feminine, softer than the first and with a strong Caltec accent, but with an edge to it that suggested she was accustomed to obediance. He heard shuffling behind him and Cutter came up beside him, his hands spread and his typical cocky expression glued on his face.
"Far be it from me to refuse a lady," he drawled. The small form holding the knife shifted and growled. Jedar held his breath as the pressure on his neck became more than a little uncomfortable.
"Let him go," the first voice commanded, and with obvious reluctance the small woman withdrew her knife, glaring at him with an undirected malice that made him repress a shudder. He watched her carefully as she backed away. She was short and slender, but one look at her face made him wonder if she teetered on the brink of insanity. There was more hate in that cold look than he would have believed possible. She had tan feathers, red hair and was dressed totally in black. Jedar could've smelled 'assassin' on her even if she'd stayed all the way across the room.
The leader stepped forward. "I've a message fer yer leader." She was a slender but solidly built Raptrin, with feathers that were just a shade away from being white, and pale blond hair braided to her waist. She wore a grey vest over a black sleeveless bodysuit, and there was a broad-bladed knife almost as long as his forearm strapped to her thigh. Her pale grey eyes were alert and serious, rather unnerving but without the cold kill-or-be-killed expression that haunted the face of the smaller duck.
"Well, ma'am, as long as this message doesn't involve sending us back to her in small pieces, I'm sure we'd be happy to oblige." The small woman bristled at Cutter's tone, and Jedar wished the younger man would just shut up, because that one looked as if she would like to send them home in exactly that condition.
The Raptrin ignored the tone and the comment. "This is yer only warning. The next time we meet there'll be blood between us. Don't do anything stupid, and it won't be yers." Jedar doubted that, his gaze flicking again to the small woman, but he and Cutter both lowered their hands, careful to keep them still in sight.
"Three minutes." Flanking the Raptrin was a male duck in a tattered shirt, black pants, and army boots. He didn't appear to be carrying any weapons, but by his stance and his build he could easily hold his own in a pitched fight. His coloring was odd, his feathers were a smokey grey-brown and his beak was pale and yellowish. Cutter couldn't help noting that he also seemed to share Jedar's apparent dislike of combs, as his brown hair was messy.
"Who are you?" Jedar demanded, annoyance beginning to get the better of him.
"We are th' Shade," the Raptrin said cooly, "And ye have invaded our city, Jedar." He frowned.
"And you expect us to pack up and leave because you came and threatened us with a couple of your strongarms?" Cutter scoffed. A gun misteriously appeared in the smaller woman's free hand, and Cutter prudently shut his beak.
"Ye'd be wise t' do so," the edge in the Raptrin's soft voice sharpened, "Which is why I expect exactly the opposite. We could've killed ye both easily, and ye're still breathin. Some would say ye deserve t' die fer letting ye're guard down. But we're giving ye fair warning, and it's all ye're going to get. I'm sending this message to Leila deSilver as a fellow thief, out of professional curtesy, so t' speak. So ye tell 'er this: Cartha Phagan doesn't give up her territory t' anyone, and if what I've heard is true, me Shades'll stand behind me a sight better than yer lot will stand behind her. So ye'd all best watch yer steps."
"Guard in one," the male duck said flatly.
They left quickly, efficiently, and as silently as they had come, moving in a loose formation that made it easy for each to guard the backs of their companions. As soon as they were gone Cutter and Jedar grabbed their loot and got out a hair before the guard returned, hoping to salvage some of their pride at least.
"Of all the bloody--" Cutter muttered as they wound their way in the opposite direction of the base. "They had to pick that job. They had to wait until we were looking like a couple of petty vandals."
"We've got more to worry about than our pride," Jedar said grimly. "Leila is not going to like this."
Cutter sighed. "Does that count as being seen?" he wondered.
Cartha replayed the scene in her mind, trying to judge their success. Hestia had given her a good fright once or twice there. Cartha'd feared she would ruin the whole show by cutting the cocky one to ribbons. She had very little doubt that if the woman had not sworn that she wouldn't kill them, there'd be two chalk outlines in the projection room of that theater.
All in all, she measured that they had accomplished their purpose with the right mix of formality, threat, force, and familiarity. She'd debated giving her name, but had decided that letting it slip that she was familiar with their leader might get them wondering about her information network, and subsequently giving them hers told them exactly what she thought of their ability to find it out on their own. She'd also dropped Jedar's name on purpose. True, it wasn't Kiala that'd brought her that, but perhaps, again, it would get them to wondering. The more incorrect their estimation of the Shade's abilities, the more advantage the Shade would have over them. Their entrance and exit had gone exactly as planned, smooth and proffessional. Cartha rather wished they'd chosen a more difficult location for their--well, heist was a strong word--if only to show off the Shade's skill a little more. Still, they'd shown that they took their work and their territory seriously, no matter what games the Blades might be interested in playing among themselves. Perhaps it would serve her purposes just as well to have the Brotherhood enter the game with their pride pricked.
"The next move is yers, deSilver," Cartha said to her empty office, picking up the papers on her desk and putting the confrontation out of her mind.
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Starsong Lightwing
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This story copyright � 1999 by Starsong Lightwing.
More of Starsong's great fics can be found at her site, Mighty Ducks: The Animated Series.
Jedar Stormwing copyright � Nylessa Drakeley, used with permission. Cutter copyright � Starsong Lightwing. The Shades are copyright � various authors - see the profile page for more detail.
All original Mighty Ducks characters copyright � 1995 Walt Disney Company, used without permission.
Most recent revision 9 April 1999.