The Gingerbread Man's Story

Brogdin: On a roof top

The bell chimed as the door to the Le bon bon candy store opened, and out walked a chubby, little boy. He was globular in shape, his red and white striped shirt, having risen to reveal his white, protruding belly and hugging the fatty, swells of his breasts. He could barely curl his arms as they folded about his sides, feeding a slice of chocolate cake into his face. He had ropes of red and black licorice, candy canes, lollipops, cookies, taffy, and a bag of tarts wrapped greedily in his thick arms as he waddled down the street. Unknowingly to the boy, Le bon bon was a satellite shop for Matilda’s sweets [this information is not known by anyone, not even Gingie, but can be figured out eventually].

Standing upon a roof, was a dark figure wrapped in a black cloak and cowl. He resembled a grim reaper, minus a scythe, as he watched the blond bulb below, cramming the cake in his mouth as though he were starved, which from the boy’s size was unimaginable. Candy was the reaper’s favorite, but seeing the boy’s behavior toward it discouraged him from sweeping down and mugging him for all that he had. The Man might have had a sweet tooth, but he was no fool. There had been more candy on and in that boy than what was seen visibly. His pockets were bulging with jawbreakers and even his underpants were full of pop rocks. Shit, there might have even been sour ropes wedged into the folds and cracks of his own ass.

The butterball had merely been an interesting one to observe. There was no doubt that Le bon bon had some sort of secret recipe that was plumping not just children but all of its customers into bowling balls. The cruelty that resided in Brogdin wasn’t unusual, but it did disappoint The Man. He loved candy, but he wouldn’t dare eat candy that had the side-effects of an illegal drug.

His arm reached out from beneath his cloak to curl within his view. Eyes obscured by thick shadows studied his wristwatch. It was about time for that meeting at The Tipsy Fairy Pub. Lowering his arm, the mysterious man turned, the excess of his cloak sweeping behind him.

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

The invitation was grasped within his right, gloved hand. He had taken a seat at a table in the back of the room that was rather empty. It was supposedly the table where the members of the supposed resistance were to meet, and he was so far the first one to arrive. His red eyes skimmed over the letter once more to confirm that this had indeed been the spot, and he couldn’t have been any more correct. The Man glanced to a table crowded by mercenaries near the bar and thought that maybe they had been the group, but they were all too similar. He also didn’t think that such simpletons would have been able to get a hold of him so easily. That alone was what had made him interested in this group. You don’t find The Gingerbread Man; The Gingerbread Man finds you.

Ivory/Snow White

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

She stood out, she was aware of that, clearly a pub wasn't a place that you usually found a woman in elegant attire, but she wasn't bothered, she knew that there would of been staring regardless of what she wore, there certainly weren't a lot of women that had her looks, her beauty.

"Let them stare," she thought, quite content to sit in the corner, stroking the hand mirror that she had placed in her lap.

She couldn't imagine what had posessed her to go to a place such as The Tipsy Fairy today but she supposed that any time away the Seven would be good, at times she felt like she wasn't their leader but rather their...mother if she dared to use the cursed word. At least there seemed to be a lot of interesting people in the place, she had noted the merceneries by the bar as she came in, perhaps they would provide a challenge if there was a bar fight, she hoped there would be one.

"They certainly wouldn't expect me to be a threat," she muttered to herself in a bored tone, examining the pale skin of her arm which almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the corner.

She smiled as a man in a long sleeved jacket entered the pub and made his way to a table at the back, there was something about the way he moved that piqued her interest.

"Something tells me that you're not at all what you seem," she whispered, taking a sip from her drink as she continued to watch him.

Perhaps things were going to get exciting after all. Especially if she fanned the flames of chaos a little, then she'd be able to tell if he was worth the challenge. But for now she would wait and see what happened.

Sir Rowan Marquis

A two-foot tall figure was nearly swallowed by the over-sized musketeer hat perched on his head and the long frayed cape draped around his shoulders. A clever, feline eye flashed from the hat's shadow, his other eye concealed by an eye-patch drawn tightly around his face; he did not desire revealing the grisley looking socket to the world. Gloved hands delicately held on to an envelope like it was made of gold. And indeed it was; its contents were more valuable to him than anything gold could buy, unless it was Brigdon’s head on a silver platter, freshly slain. But he would rather reserve that pleasure for himself to enjoy personally.

The invitation was ripped. Scanning it, he recounted the delirious excitement that the words had possessed him to clench the paper and nearly tear it to shreds from joy. He shall join the rebellion soon, and he shall accomplish his lifelong mission at last. However, letting his one eye fall to his bare hind-paws, he had a small business to attend to first. A gray paw tilted the wide brim, shadowing his feline face, and he continued down the alley with self-assurance in his nimble feet.

Leprechaun Leather Co. was tightly nestled on the grimy, littered street beside the Three Little Pig's Brothel, which was hardly an ideal business location. Most customers were too busy rolling around in lust and sweat to even notice the shoemaker next door. But for Puss, it was the ideal place to make a quick fortune. Approaching the the brothel, he locked his teeth in a sharp, blinding grin, but it wasn’t necessarily friendly. He ignored a few drunk-looking peasant 'customers' that emerged glaze-eyed from its doors. He stopped, waiting in front of the glorified whorehouse's entrance, examining the broad, gleaming white doors and the many colorfully painted posters lining its walls. The best erotic service in all of Brigdon and beyond. The image of a beautiful woman, cooing through luscious lips and lidded eyes. Another poster. We have everything your money can buy! Brazilian, Blonde, Brunette, Were-Ladies, Mermaids, Morphs, We Have it All! Invite your Friends! Invite your Relatives! We have Plenty to Spare! Visit the Brothel today! He could not read anymore.

The Puss spat disrespectfully, trying to clear his overwealming disgust, but refrained from shredding the posters to strips as there was a guard eying him from afar. If the rebellion overturned the queen and Brigdon, the brothel would be the first to be demolished. Men were to earn a woman's embrace the harder way, the natural way, and for not such selfish reasons. No, not if. When. Finally, his patience was rewarded.

"Care to give some change to an eye-less stray cat?" he purred as an elaborately-dressed man emerged from the brothel doors. His tailored jacket was lined with gold and brass buttons, holding a patch of the Royal Queen. The man only smirked with the elation of his priveleged 'pasttime' and hobbled off on fat legs, sweat visibly dripping down his neck. "Ah, the elite. Such pigs," he murmurred with a sigh, "Only pigs buy from pigs." He whistled as he entered the impoverished shoe-maker's store, a finely-made sack jingling in his hand.

“Oh, Allister,” the Puss sighed, “I really wish you would move this shoe store of yours. It is sleazy here.” The Leprechaun chuckled good-heartedly, knobbly fingers, conditioned by years of craft, raising a cigar to his whiskered mouth. The old leprechaun was covered in fine, skin-colored hair from head to toe and had hairy, elf-like ears protruding from his head.Two wisened gray eyes glittered with a calm that promised a gentle friend easy to confide in. He was dressed in green overalls and a white collared shirt with rolled up sleeves.

“I make enough revenue from you alone, my best costumer,” Allister said with good humor. The leprechaun proudly set the leather boots onto the countertop, and customarily slipped a freshly-picked four-leaf clover into his open paw for "good luck", which Sir Rowan slipped into a small sack on his sheath. "You'll especially need it now, you old rogue." The twenty-year old boots had been meticulously sanded and oiled, and looked brand-new. Sir Rowan admired the repair silently with one bright eye.

“Please take this off my hands. I can still smell the stink of that porker on it.” He wrinkled his nose in disdain and pushed the leather sack toward him. “Keep the tip.” The knobbly fingers emptied the sack onto the table patiently, but soon quivered in excitement. Allister’s eyes bulged from their sockets.
“This is---these guineas are pure gold! You can’t mean this is all for me…It must be worth---“ but the cat had already disappeared, though the baffled old leprechaun could swear he had seen a familiar wink flash at him through the window before it flitted away like a shadow.
----
The door to the Tipsy Fairy Pub hardly opened a crack when it closed again with a rustle. He strode with more confidence now that his toes were nestled in its familiar leather confines. His short stature hardly drew any attention, which he preferred at this moment. His one eye flitted to the table where the meeting was supposed to take place, noticing its vacancy with disappointment. There was a single shady-looking man seated alone in its shadows. The cloak was drawn over his face as to completely hide it.

Sir Rowan approached cautiously; although he was likely from the rebellion, he could never be sure. Perhaps the man had merely seated there by chance. And, for one, Rowan did not trust him. He looked like Death himself, and seemed too secretive. Rowan was surprised by the strong sugary sweet smell that he emitted, although perhaps he only noticed by his sharp sense of smell. Carefully choosing his words, he asked slowly, “Sir…did a maiden by the name of Red happen to invite you here?”

Rebellion HQ

Red fumbled to stow her book as the bear entered and changed form. As far as she knew, no one knew about her little indulgence, and she wanted it to stay that way. If people knew she was reading a ...romance novel, while there was work to be done, she would lose their respect. "It's fine if you couldn't get anything today, Bebe. Lexi. Bebe." Red rolled her eyes under her hood. It was so annoying to keep track of the aliases that her friend kept, and she gave up trying. Bebe it would be, at least as far as she was concerned. It was the first nickname she had come up for her friend's original name, after all. "Pearl, you say? I'll be sure to check in with her after our meeting at the Tipsy Fairy." Red then dug in her desk and brought out a bandage, tossing it to Bebe. "If you want to join me, be sure to disguise yourself, and stagger your movements from mine. If anyone recognizes you, me or both of us, we could blow each other's cover." She didn't need to state the obvious underlying consequence if that happened. With that, Red snatched up Graban, her trusty sword, and gave it a few test swings before stowing it in her magical picnic basket. She hoped she wouldn't need it, though. She also slipped off her easily-remembered red cloak, stowing it in the basket as well, and revealing the tight-fitting black clothes that she wore underneath. It would have to do. She didn't want to be late, after all.

The Tipsy Fairy Pub, Brogdin

Making her way through the town, Red weaved in and out of the crowd. Without her trademark cloak, others would be hard pressed to recognize her. Even amoung the Order, rarely had anyone seen her face. And if someone who did not know her looked at her, they would see a cute, but not attractive persay, young - almost child-like - woman with blonde hair walking innocently through town with a picnic basket. As she neared the pub, Red ducked into an alley, sweeping out her cloak and immediately activating its special ability.

It was like this that she quietly padded into the bar, surveying what was before her. Due to the effect of her cloak, for the most part, her entrance would have been quite inconspicuous. She noticed three people in particular: a cat, a hooded man, and a woman. She canceled the ability, taking a seat. To those watching, it would have seemed as though she had been there the whole time. It also added a bit of dramatic effect, which probably wasn't a bad thing. While her identity would be fairly obvious, Red decided to throw out the code phrase mentioned in the invitations. "The forest has been lovely as of late, no?" She watched for reactions with eyes that matched her cloak, the only visible part of her face. However, she was also wary, being out in 'enemy territory', and kept a hand near the basket on her lap, ready to draw Graban if necessary. However, that would mean the mission was a complete failure, and she would have to book it out. And that would be the worst outcome, the last resort.

Rebellion HQ

Lexi smiled at Red. "Thanks. I'll go in human form, though I won't be with you. I'll stay somewhere else in the Pub." Shoving her sword in her scabbard, Lexi swung a black cloak over herself, completely hiding her face. "I'll follow you to the Pub, but try not to be aware of me." She walked to the door and held it open for Red.

Brogdin

Lexi followed Red down the streets, staying back a good distance. Being seen with each other would mean death and the end of the Rebellion; all hell would break loose if that happened. As Red ducked into an alley, Lexi did not stop but instead swept on into the Pub. Sitting at the counter, she ignored the bartender and leaned against the counter, watching. The counter was a good vantage point; Lexi could see every part of the Pub. Before Lexi knew it, Red was in the Pub. She had never really gotten used to Red's ability.

Red sat at a table where a cat, a hooded man, and a woman were sitting. Lexi leaned forward slightly, trying to hear their conversation. Realizing that her behavior seemed suspicious, she turned around and signaled to the bartender. The bartender ignored her. Lexi shrugged. She really didn't need alcohol racing through her anyway, and she would have an excuse if anyone asked why she wasn't having anything. Though Red's voice was faint, she could hear her words. "The forest has been lovely of late, no?" Lexi snorted to herself. What a choice of words. With the witch's reign, everything had lost its value. Nothing could really be described as 'lovely' anymore.

Ivory/Snow White

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

Ivory raised an eyebrow, things seemed to be getting more and more interesting by the second. A cat had just entered the pub and made his way to where the other curious man was seated, he was soon followed by a young woman carrying a picnic basket.

"It seems that there was a party and nobody invited me," she said quietly, coldly watching the group, "Red certainly does suit her I must say."

The woman seemed on edge and overly fond of her picnic basket in Ivory's opinion, it certainly didn't seem like a casual meeting. Sadly she couldn't hear what the group was saying and this was causing her to lose interest. Narrowing her eyes she rearranged the folds of the purple gown she wore, while not one of the colours she would usually choose to wear, she had to admit that it did look nice against her skin and hair and it was such a beautiful gown.

"Now what have we here?" thought Ivory as she turned her icy gaze to a girl at the bar, "My my, it seems I came to the right place to find interesting things today."

She wondered if the girl could feel her staring. This place really was a little dull, perhaps these colourful characters would help to liven it up a little. All it would take was a few well chosen words to the right people and the place would no longer be a dingy pub but rather the arena for a battle royale. She shivered in anticipation, such a display would give her the chance to see what all these people were capable of, she was particularly interested to see what the woman in red could do. But perhaps she would give them a little more time before starting the chaos, after all, it did appear that the odd group was discussing something very important.

The smell of sweets was strong, but the presence of his darling sister was stronger. Despite the obnoxious and rotting scent of the baked goods, Hansel's attention never left Gretel, not once. The world could be collapsing around him, blowing up in flames, and he wouldn't care, wouldn't lift his eyes. No, his sister was much more important than any of that, more important to him than the world. Even as the woman sent a mixed look of bizarre puzzlement combined with an offense, he took no heed. What did it matter, what others thought? People had no place in his heart, so why would their opinions of him and his sister have any effect?

The hand that had cleverly snaked its way around Gretel's waist tightened possessively. He couldn't see her expression, but the way she tensed, the way the atmosphere seemed to drop, allowed the male to fully comprehend what she was feeling (not to mention the fact that he made it his business to know everything and anything about her). The memories the smell brought were strong, though much stronger for Gretel; she could never eat those delicacies ever again, and while Hansel was similar, his intoxication for his sibling was much more powerful than the fragrance of a few sweet goods. Besides, the smell wasn't the same as that woman's baked foods -- now if he had caught of whiff of those, he would not have been able to control himself.

Hansel kissed the top of his sister's head through the hood, murmuring, "Peace, Gretel, peace," under his breath. As much fun as it would've been to sliced the old woman and strung her remains up for the public, he knew that being chased out of the town before completing their mission was stupid. Maybe another time, but right then, at that moment, they were there for a reason. The invitation was snug against the waist band of his pants, hidden beneath his shirt.

"We should go soon." Her voice was like bells, chiming and singing during a harsh thunderstorm -- music to his ears. It sent a ghost of a touch down his spine, augmenting by the trails her fingers left along his chest. Her hand then grasped his, and he allowed her to drag him along like a dog. Other men would've been insulted, would've been embarrassed and humiliated that their little sister was the one leading. However, Hansel was not like the others.

Release her hand? Leave her just because of a male instinct, a male pride that wanted to dictate his every movement and action like a tyrant?

Never.

He'd never let go of the hand that clasped onto his, that had held onto him since before the time of the gods had begun. He'd hold on even in death.

"Let them wait," Hansel scoffed. The limb that held onto hers for life pulled her closer to him, allowing the older male to press an affectionate mouth against the back of her hand. "I'd rather spend time with you, Gretel."

Though he spoke the truth, the lure of the witch was powerful -- but this time, rather than falling for the sweets she so cleverly placed under his nose, he was following the sure future of her death. He was going to kill her, make no mistake, and he was going to make her suffer before wiping her existence off the face of the earth. Hansel would love to relax with his sister, travel the world and wreak havoc and chaos in their wake, but the mission was clear -- no matter what he wanted to do at the moment, his desire to kill the witch was greater, binding him to the White Order.

They finally reached the pub, and the moment they entered, Hansel was hit with a crowd of beer. The stench was strong, though it was not unwanted; on the contrary, it was very relaxing, very familiar. He had no problems with bars; as a matter of fact, they were one of his most favorite places to be. One could down drinks with no worries while smoking carton after carton of cigarettes -- speaking of which, he needed to go fill his stock soon.

Looking around the pub, he saw nothing of interest, nothing as mesmerizing as his dear sister. Following her to a table with several mysterious people, he took a seat and allowed his sister to plop down on his lap; it wouldn't have felt right if she hadn't been sitting atop him. The warmth that radiated off her body served to cool and calm his body. Hansel easily slid out a cigarette from his hidden pack and placed it between his lips. Taking out a black lighter, he set his drug on fire and breathed in its toxic fumes, a hand wrapping around the waist of Gretel. Fingers brushed against her skin unconsciously while the free ones transferred the cigarette from his mouth to in between his fingers. The fire burned quietly, seeming to seethe each time he raised it to his mouth, sucking out its life force with no mercy.

"Yup, howling -- all that jazz," he agreed, gazing at the one that initiated the secret phrase.

Was this the one that would lead him to the witch?

Was this the one that would allow him to exact his revenge?

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

"Ah, speak of the devil," the cat murmured softly as the heavily cloaked Red seemed to solidify from thin air. The air particles shifted slightly from the path that the woman had taken to her seat, and his nose now twitched to catch the subtle movement, but could not make it out. What trickery was this? Sensing a foreign arrival, Sir Rowan had bristled slightly, his waxed whispers rising, with a gray paw already on Lucy's blonde hilt to draw the blade out in a heartbeat. But sensing no hostility, he shrugged his cloaked shoulders apathetically, letting the arm fall back to his side. He stroked the golden tassle hanging off the hilt at the hip of his sheath, whispering, "It was a false call, Lucy. But we shall have fun soon."

With a nimble leap, he landed and crouched on top of a stool that had been the same height as he, settling down by the corner wall. He did not like it for anyone to be on his blind side. The one icy eye flickered towards the Reaper with suspicion, the vague scent of sugar wafting into the Puss' sharp nose. Idly, he fingered the brim of his musketeer hat and set it on the table out of politeness. He noticed two people, identical-faced in appearance, a boy and a girl, join the table group, whom he mistook for a couple because the flesh-locked way they entered the room. But the similar smell that wafted from their skin revealed their close blood-connection. “Hm,” murmured the cat, slightly troubled, but he chased away the perverse thought.

"The forest has been lovely as of late." Sir Rowan's ears flickered visibly at the key phrase, flattening against his head for a brief moment in recollection. He purred with French-laced speech. "Ah, yes, Mademoiselle. What was it?—Le hurlement has kept me away.” With that business accomplished, he now watched Red with increasing interest, drawn in by the warm bell-like, yet vital tone of her voice that drew respectful attention despite being soft-spoken, for the most part. He had become accustomed to hearing female voices and could almost draw out the outline of their eyes and face simply from hearing them speak. Certainly, the cat mused to himself, she is not vivacious of course, but easy on the eyes. The mystifying question of why she would not remove the cloak trembled on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better than to impede on her privacy.

One ear rested against the pub’s milky wall, which had discolored from the many hands and unwashed heads rubbing against it. In a distant table, he noted a young maiden dressed in heels eying the congregation with interest. As a precaution, his paw returned to his sword, which seemed to whisper his thoughts back to him with a dull glitter. Careful, now.

"So...how are we going to conduct this rebellion?" the Puss purred inquiringly.

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

From beneath his black hood, red eyes rolled over to the tiny figure obscured beneath a fancy hat. Seeing how he had approached his table, he suspected that the feline may have been a part of The Rebellion, or like him, curious. He tucked the letter away within his cloak as the cat spoke:

Sir…did a maiden by the name of Red happen to invite you here?

The voice that rolled from the shadows of the cowl was low and mischievous.

“Maybe…” the stranger playfully answered.

Manifesting from the air was a young woman shrouded in a red hood. She pulled out a chair and sank into it, and relayed a familiar message: The forest has been lovely as of late, no?

The Gingerbread Man remained silent and watched as she eyed him and the cat expectantly. Other beings soon joined them, a couple whose hands were wrapped in a lover’s embrace and who were oddly similar in appearance. Well, it may not have been odd if they were brother and sister, but their behavior was certainly taboo.

Is that so? The howling has kept me away.

The cat repeated the same statement in his own speech, but again, The Gingerbread Man remained silent. It was then the feline continued, So…how are we going to conduct this rebellion?

Abruptly, The Gingerbread Man began to laugh. A black, gloved hand went to his chest, pressing flat against it as his insides clenched from the mirth racking his body. Forcing out between his gasps of breath, he questioned those around him, “Could you have made this anymore obvious?”

The hooded man eased back in his chair, his legs spreading comfortably in that relaxed position most men preferred. The assassin giggled again, his head slightly easing back as the light of the oil lamps hanging above them revealed his jagged teeth. His mouth was like a bear trap, and his white, yellow, and orange striped teeth made it unusual. His large, candy corn teeth grinned at them all before he continued, “You make my job easy. If I was an assassin hired by a certain queen, all of you would be screwed.”

Another sadistic chuckle left the man. He found the idea of telling the queen and having them all hunted until death or capture amusing. It would have sucked incredibly but that’s what made it funny.

“Oh? But am I interrupting something here? Please go on, I’m curious.”

A sudden burst of giggling was heard. Lexi turned and frowned. Wha was so funny, at this point of time? She turned to see a hooded man rocking back and forth with laughter. Lexi pressed her lips together, willing herself not to go over and yell at the man.

Although, Lexi could hardly blame him. Since the witch, Lexi had found little funny. It was as if er sense of humor had disappeared altogether with her beloved Queen. Any little hint of laughter would set Lexi's teeth on edge, a small giggle would make her feel like exploding. In her mind, laughter was only meant for the other side, and it was forbidden within the Rebellion.

Lexi found the hooded man very intriguing. She closed her eyes and listened intently. This one is different, perhaps he will be vital in the uprising.

Shaking her head, Lexi reminded herself not to be too confident. Confidence is good, but we have no knowledge that it will work. But is this too pessimistic? Lexi toyed with the idea, liking the catch-22. Catch-22... Lexi had always liked puzzles. Her mind was constantly alert, and keeping it busy was the best way to ward off sleep that would not, and never would, come to her.

Red's eyes flashed simultaneously with anger and fear for a split second before she calmed herself down. "Indeed, my friend...you were a bit hasty in your comment. Be glad that I have a modicum of trust in those who received my invitations. Watch your mouth unless you want us all to die." She laid back in her seat a bit, still ready to move or grab her sword if necessary. "But I digress. Your name, if you please? We can get to business in a less public place." These were all directed at the cat.

With that, she turned to the hooded man, meeting his red eyes with her own. The light flashed across her face for a moment, revealing a dangerous, predatory grin on a fairly childish face. It would have been an unsettling sight to most. "And you, sir. You seem like an interesting person. You are correct. We could've been in trouble. If indeed you were an assassin from the queen. But, as I said. Anyone who received an invitation has more reason to side with us than her." As her hood covered her face again, the amused yet warning tone continued from the darkness where her face was. "Though you seem like a bright fellow. So I'd assume if you were an assassin, you wouldn't have blown your cover. Thus, I am inclined to believe you are not. Now...regarding the second part of that statement..." She gave a small laugh, and nodded towards the door. "You would also know that if you tried to leave, or harm me, you would not complete either alive. Or complete them at all, rather. But enough with the threats. It seems we have started off on the wrong foot. Your name as well, my hooded friend?"

Then, she faced the couple...or so it seemed..that was sitting nearby. "Ah, is that so? My friends here were also scared off by the howling. Care to join us?" She spoke with a friendly, casual tone of voice, in order to at least attempt to keep everything inconspicuous.

Finally, as she waved at the couple, she moved her fingers ever so slightly. It was a signal that Bebe/Lexi would hopefully understand. It said that if everything went wrong, they should both get out. Red would silently follow any troublemakers, but Bebe should get back to base. Red's priority was to keep everything secret over everything, and because this was her idea, it was her firm belief that she should handle any problems that arose.

Red kept an eye on the woman just a few tables away. She seemed like potential trouble, and hadn't approached them, leaving room for doubt if she was an ally.

Gretel left a trail of butterfly kisses on her brother's neck, fingers played along his chest. Her free hand grabbed hold of his lighter, flicking it open and lighting a flame. Her hazel eyes lit up in amusement as a curved, almost twisted smile slowly appeared on her face.

"Beautiful, isn't?" Gretel mumbled against Hansel's skin, playing with the flame from across his neck. How enticing was the flame in its glory? Too much too compare. Keeping it small enough to be consider simple, such a challenge. All she wanted to do was let out a big ball and hurl it at someone. Maybe at that girl who kept giving them the eye.

Red called them over and her eyes snapped at her. "Of course, we'd love to." Her voice was clear yet soft, friendly even. Unlike her brother, Gretel was one to make friends. No, they weren't friends. They were merely tools and stepping stones to defeat Matilda, and the Queen to a lesser extent. Once they were done, she'd leave them or kill them. It would all depend on the outcome.

She tugged Hansel's collar lightly, leaning over his ear before whispering, "They may know more than we. I'd like to hear what they say." It was an unusual sight to see, Gretel whispering words barely audible into her brother's cool ear and leaving him a kiss behind. She caught a good whiff of his delightful odor, the mild scent of their victims' blood in honey and dew.

"You smell wonderful." She inhaled the smell once more, placing a hand on his that laid on her waist. Pulling themselves apart killed her softly but they should move. They had to move closer. Together, they pulled it closer and she plopped right down on his lap one again.

They could all stare but she'd have their remains guttered. A hand began to stroke her brother chin and jaw affectionately as another flicked his lighter. "Why not discuss over a drink?" She could feel the tension between everyone, how the cat almost blew their cover. A woman left, she kept looking at them as if she was contemplating something. Gretel was contemplating how to kill her.

What an odd bunch. What a mismatched group of people. Were these part of the rebellion? The White Order? These couldn't be the people that had also been invited to join a secret group that would bring down the reign of the evil queen. Many of them that sat at the table that Hansel and Gretel sat at seemed as if they were just crazy in the head with nothing to back it up. And that cat! Stupid is as stupid does, his mother used to say.

His sister's advances put an amused smile on his face, though for the most part, he ignored practically everything she did.

"Very profession, Gretel," he chuckled.

In response, Hansel merely placed his hands on her waist, supporting her in case she decided to fall off the chair for god knows why. She had always been the touchier one of the two of them, always showing her love and her obsession with many physical contacts. He accepted her love, however he felt no need to continuously express his feelings like she did, knowing that Gretel knew how he felt without him having to constantly kiss her hand or brush her cheeks.

"A drink does sound nice to start this party." His eyes glanced around the table, trying to decide whether he thought the group had some potential. He wasn't about to join a rinky-dink club. He was here because he thought this so-called Red person could give him what he desired most in the world: the death of a witch. "If the party is, indeed, being held in this very fine establishment."

He snapped his fingers at a waitress with an unfortunately deformed face wearing a rather revealing outfit. Without asking what Gretel wanted, he ordered an alcoholic beverage for himself and some nontoxic, girlish drink for her, not really caring what her thoughts or desires were. After all, as her older brother he wouldn't allow her to consume such a devilish poison -- not even if his life depended on it.

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

The Gingerbread Man’s laughter quieted and his grin shrank into the shadows of his hood. The Red Hood was very confident of herself. It had been her comment about the invitation that had silenced him. She was smart for he was expecting her to overreact and jump the gun. Instead, the girl had kept her cool—again, confident. She was so sure she had him figured out. The only mistake she made was assuming that he was like the meat bags seated around the table. Once upon a time, he was but not anymore.

The siblings approached the table, joining their circle, and Gingie’s eyes had been on the lighter Gretel was playing with. He didn’t like the way she played with it. She waved it about with adoration much like she would her brother if he had been one.

“My name? Huh, I once had a real name,” The Gingerbread Man began. His lips parted, his mouth opened as fluid could be heard bubbling behind his nose and then gurgling into his throat. Puckering his lips, The Gingerbread Man sent a golden loogie flying across the table to splat against the lighter. What one might have thought was mucus was caramel oozing and dripping down the side. The molten butter-sugar had put out the flame and would ruin the lighter.

“I’m a candy killer,” he giggled at his own joke. He loved candy. “I kill people too—goblins, ghouls…I am an assassin, kid; and the reason why I’m not afraid to tell it to your face is because well…”

He could no longer resist. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me. How can you forget the song? Run, run, as fast as you can…you can’t catch me… Heh, I’ll let you finish the rest.”

…Because he couldn’t be caught. It was a motto he lived up to ever since he became a cookie. From the corners of his eyes, The Gingerbread Man noticed a spiral, rainbow lollipop about to enter a thug’s mouth. His next action had been swift, and if one hadn’t been expecting it, they would have missed it. A breeze passed over the table and the hooded stranger became a black blur before he became defined again.

With the lollipop in his gloved hand, his candy corn grin was back on his face as the thug was heard shouting, “What the fuck?”

The Gingerbread Man twisted the lollipop before his eyes, marveling its beauty before he tilted it back toward his mouth. The sugar pop froze before touching his teeth as he lifted it and glared daggers at it. It hadn’t been a normal lollipop. It was from that cursed candy shop. What a way to turn a frown upside down…tossing the lollipop on the floor, he crushed it under his boot and twitched some. Le bon bon was slowly becoming a monopoly.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get my fix lately,” The Gingerbread Man spoke on a pissed growl. “Ever since that damn candy store opened, I can’t get real candy anymore.”

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

Sir Rowan drew back in embarrassment at the foolish words that had escaped his lips. He had indulged so much in the thought of vanquishing the ogre murderer that he had dropped his guard, and in such a vulnerable situation: when they were right out in the open. Stupid. Fool. His eye, which flashed with blue fire at the arrogant Gingerbread Man, gleamed with more hatred than ever. The sickening sweet smell, on top of his flamboyant bad-ass attitude, was too much for him to swallow down. But this was no time to fight like cats and dogs. He glanced back at the red-hooded maiden, a solemn expression on his face. Apolegetic, the fire died to a tranquil sky blue, with a hint of stormy weather. The cat frowned.

"My sincerest apologies. It was foolish of me to say so much." He sighed. "I was too eager. It’s not just the Queen, but I have the deepest respects for mayor Brogdin. I would like to meet him as soon as possible, if you know what I mean." Suddenly the anger demons possessed him; and he was consummed by the flames of the distant memory that the name had sparked, his veins swirling in sweat and murder. The memory had been suppressed without expression for so long. Death. Blood. Breakfast. And their merriment. A grimace distorted his face. Like a feral cat, unable to contain himself, he slammed his paw against the flimsy table top with all his force, drawing surprised looks. He could barely contain an animalistic yowl, and he shivered silently. Shame. “I’ve waited so long, for this opportunity,” he finally managed. “I just get batty over it.” He chuckled darkly, trying to feign light-heartedness. An idle claw tickled the lines that now scarred the wood, and he waited for any curious onlookers to bore before he continued.

"Who am I? I am a nobody. A stray cat. I have no home to call my own," he paused. “I used to be somebody, but what can you say about fame? It’s fickle, like a cat in heat. All over you one second, gone the next.

“My name is Sir Rowan Marquis. I am also known as Puss in Boots. But you can call me Rowan, or just Puss. Either is fine.” He looked at Red with wary respect, wilting at the aspect of getting them all murdered. His whole life had led to this. But his keen ears had no sensed any sign of hostility. “I feel that we’ve started on the wrong foot. Again, I am very sorry; I'll take any punishment you offer. I hope we can be acquaintanced grandly.” He bowed, a swift paw bringing her hand to his face, out of his village’s custom. He kissed it with business-like conduct. Ah. "Was that too much?" He blushed heatedly from embarassment, recollecting how it was uncommon here to greet someone so intimately. Well. He glanced at Hansel and Gretel. No. That was different.

Suddenly his eye flickered at something small dodging across the floor, and his sword-equipped paw twitched. The sword's blade created an audible thunk as it stuck into the unwashed wooden floor. Quivering beside the blade, which glowed dully in the warm autumn light, was a quivering little gray body, balloon-round. It froze in fear. The mouse raised its beady eyes up at the cat in fear for a lingering moment, its eyes flickering back to the shattered lollipop fragment in its mouth. It lowered it from its mouth, but licked its lips in greed; the le bon bon addiction was already taking its toll, poisoning the mouse's blood-stream with its sickening sweet. Puss did not know this, but was merely disgusted by the sight of the indulgent thing.

"Don't you know its rude to eavesdrop? Get out of here, before I eat you up," he growled, though the thought of returning to his feral state disgusted him. The mouse chomped its buck-teeth over the sweet and scampered off with a triumphant waddling gait, glad to have escaped with its prize.

The shattered remains of the lollipop lay glittering on the floor, like a fragments of rainbow. There was no doubt the mouse would return for it, until it had grown fat and high with sugar. Ignorant of le bon bon's treachery, he sneered, “What a waste of food. Cannibal.” He shot a look of distaste at the grotesque candy-corn grin. He was just an overgrown cookie. Bitter-sweet, and hardly digestable. Maybe it would do him some good to have the mouse nibble on him.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s talk business. At a more private setting?...” He glanced at the fat thing devouring the candy in a distant corner.
“Brogdin is crawling with vermin. If you know what I mean.”

The Tipsy Fairy Pub

To her credit, Red barely even flinched when Sir Rowan, or Puss, perhaps, took her hand. Her first instinct was to yank her hand away and lash out, but it was obviously a sign of respect. It was good that he understood his folly, and it did not seem to have caused any trouble. "We all have reasons we are here, Rowan." She nodded towards the rest of the group. "Surely many of you hope to dispose of the rebellion once it has served your purpose. But over all else, remember that there is no way you will accomplish this by yourself. Ever. So keep that in mind before you think of betrayal."

Her eyes barely kept up with the blur that was the Gingerbread Man. However, she was confident that with Graban, she could probably match him. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that, though she would be keeping an eye on him. "Indeed. I have heard of your prowess, and I am glad you have at least considered joining up with us. Your skills would be of great use."

Her eyes flickered to Hansel and Gretel. They were almost like one of the romance novels she enjoyed reading, although supposedly these were brother and sister. Oddly enough, she probably had a book or two of that, too. Shaking her head slightly, Red snapped herself out of her thoughts. "You may enjoy your drink, but as Sir Rowan and our candied friend have probably guessed, we will not be discussing things here."

Her hand slowly reached into her basket, and brought out a few slips of wood, which she placed on the table. They were almost the same colour, and any watching would probably be unable to see the difference. "On these are directions to various entrances and the keyword for today of that specific entrance. They have been charmed to burn up as you leave this pub, so no cheating. This proves that I have a certain amount of trust for you, but don't worry. As soon as you step outside, you will be watched." she said, flashing the wolfish grin from under her hood. Red was not bluffing. There were a various spies sprinkled throughout town, expecting orders. Hopefully, her friend Bebe would hear and know what to do.

With a small, girlish giggle, Red activated the charm on her cloak, and faded back into the background. She would personally follow The Gingerbread Man, as he would be the biggest threat should he actually be a spy. As she faded, she gave the slightest nod to Bebe, and then tilted her head towards the candy man. The signal should have been clear enough. Under her spell, Red quietly shuffled to a corner of the bar, and waited for the group to make a move. 10 minutes was her limit. And if the man knew he was after her, all the better. Maybe it would give him caution.

The tipsy fairy pup

Ro raced through the maze of tunnels with Thumbelina on his back. They were dark and dusty, but with a strong sense of smell and long whiskers to help guide him, the mouse was able to travel with ease. Thumbelina only caught glimpses of the tunnels when lights from rooms above them filtered through cracks in the floors. For the most part, the tiny girl was just staring into darkness. It wasn't long before Thumbelina was totally lost. She had to trust in Ro fully, but that was easy for her. Ro was a dear friend.

Eventually they emerged into a large, dimly lit room. "This is it.." Ro whispered. Thumbelina nodded, but gave a small frown as she looked around the rather crowded room. She felt like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The tiny girl wasn't just worried about herself though. "Dearest Ro, please be wary. They could crush us like a berry." Ro could understand Thumbelina's worry, but he knew what he was doing. No one was going to step on him today. Especially not with thumbelina on his back.

The mouse was forced to zig zag between feet as he carried his passenger across the floor, but it didn't take him long at all to find the assigned table. Once there it was a simple feat to climb up the leg of the table to reach the flat surface. Thumbelina held on tight for the vertical climb, but it wasn't as death defying as it might have been if the tiny girl didn't have wings for back up. Thumbelina would have climbed off of her friend's back then. He had been more than kind in carrying her so far, but Ro spoke up quickly to stop her. "Wait." He whispered for Thumbelina's ears alone. Where was Red? He had thought this was the right table.. but none of these people were familiar... and one of them was a cat! The gray mouse couldn't help but hold a certain dislike for the creature.

If red wasn't here, he had better be sure he was in the right place, with the right people. "The forest has been lovely as of late, no?" Ro finally asked the others. He echoing Red's question exactly. Though, the mouse spoke in an almost bored voice, like one making small talk with people he didn't particularly care for. It was all part of the act. Best to keep things looking casual. Just an odd assortment of friend meeting for a chat and a drink. He was of course, unaware of the cat's earlier slip up.

Red Riding Hood

As Ro had told her of The Talking Animal’s plight, just after, two butterflies with glowing-pink wings fluttered over next to her ear and whispered a similar message. A black unicorn named Midnight was in danger and so were his forces.

Her blue eyes darted to two shining fairies—one was blue and the other green.

“Let me see,” she told them.

The two fairies dove toward the ground before the feet of the Rebellion members and began flying in a rapid circle. A greenish-blue ring formed and from the fairy magic appeared a scene. Animals were pushing over ladders as demons, ogres, and dwarves tried to scale their way into Goldilock’s mansion. They had managed to barricade the doors and windows, but the dark forces were ruthlessly hacking away at the foundation. They were determined to reach the animals even if they had to bring the house down to do it.

Next in the spell circle appeared a seemingly-innocent child. Anyone who knew her knew that she was hardly the princess; the angel; she feigned to be. Red unintentionally glanced to Lexi. The face of Goldilocks surely must have been unsettling for the bear. The murderer of her parents was right there. It was disturbing how many years had passed. When Red had met Lexi, she was a girl and she a cub. Now they were both grown and yet Goldilocks still looked the same. Did she not age? The Queen be damned if she was immortal.

Red bowed her head, the sight of Goldilocks bringing only anger to her spirit. Her face was swallowed by the shadows of her hood as she mused in silence. The fairies stopped their whirling to rise before Red with expectant blue and green stares.

“We will help them,” her words escaped smoothly from her hood. “Lexi, I know you desire Goldie’s head, but do not make her death your sole priority.” She looked up to regard the bear sternly. “We have to save these animals first. This is not the day to seek your revenge. If it had not been Goldilocks, but The Wolf who had appeared, I expect you to have told me the same.”

Red raised her hands to lower her hood, revealing her red head, her downy, wavy layers pulled back into a French braid held together by an ebony clasp.

“We will flank them. Lexi, I want you to lead Formation Alpha in the woods. We will take the enemy from the side. Thumbelina, you will go with Hansel, Gretel, and Aurora and take the mansion from behind. You must get inside and heal any wounded. I will lead Formation Bravo to attack the woods unit from behind.”

And me…?

Red glanced to the black-hooded assassin sitting on a stack of barrels. How could she have missed his sweet scent? She had managed to follow him to the HQ yet even within the HQ he was still elusive. The Gingerbread Man was probably the most odd on her team. A walking and talking cookie; biscuit; pastry; whatever one liked to call him. Giving a cookie orders felt so strange, but he had once been a man. She noticed his candy corn grin from the shadows of his cowl and couldn’t hide the amused smile such a ridiculous expression brought to her lips.

“I hope you don’t mind going first,” Red said.

“Gladly,” he replied.

Thumbelina and Ro Both looked up when The fairies entered to whisper in Red's ear. It was a bitter sweet thing to see other fairies. The girl was glad to see so many still alive and helping to fight evil along side the White Order, but they reminded her of the family and the home she had lost. When the fairies flew to the feet of the others, Thumbelina and Ro moved to the edge of the table they were perched on for a look.

The first few images were honorable. So many animals in danger! Ro was stiff and obviously agitated, causing Thumbelina to rest a hand on his head. The little girl in the last image got a snort from Ro, but only a confused tilt of the head from Thumbelina. At first the tiny girl thought Goldie a prisoner of the queen, but when Red spoke up, she realized the girl was an enemy. How strange that a little girl like that could be working for the evil queen...

It was her name being spoken that snapped Thumbelina out of her thoughts. Get inside and heal the wounded. Thumbelina was nervous at the thought of going out into an active battle field for the first time, but she was determined to help despite her fears. The tiny girl stood and faced Red before bowing. "As you wish miss Hood. It is understood." Ro was loath to be left behind while Thumbelina was sent into battle, but he held his tongue in front of Red. The mouse was a scout, not a fighter or a healer. He would no doubt be sent out on his own mission soon enough.

"Stay safe, Princess." Ro whispered sadly.

Not knowing how soon they would be sent out and seeing the worry on her friend's face, Thumbelina took a moment to kiss Ro's nose. "Do not be afraid. They need our aid." She said softly, trying to hide the sadness and fear in her own voice. "Such a good friend you've been. We'll see each other again." The tiny girl tried to comfort her friend before spreading her wings and hopping into the air. Thumbelina fluttered over to hover above Auroa's head. This way she could join the woman in making any preparations that were needed with the other two before they were sent out.

The tiny girl couldn't help glancing at the siblings. They seemed a little... gross to Thumbelina in all honesty. Yet the tiny girl wasn't one to be cruel. No one deserved to be treated badly. So The girl would keep her thoughts on their strange relationship to herself and try to focus on other things, like the others in the room and their role in Red's plan. Lexi and Red would come in from the side and the delicious smelling biscuit in a hood would be attacking head on. Thumbelina repeated the plan nervously in her mind. They could do this! they had to! At least that's what the tiny girl was going to keep telling herself.
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NPC: Ro, The Gray mouse scout.

"The first chance that we get, we'll go after her," whispered Hansel.

"Of course we will." Gretel replied, a smile emerged from her pale lips. A finger stopped, pressing down just slightly above his navel. "We'll maim, tear her guts from the inside and shred her to pieces so small there will be nothing left." Oh sweet misery, the beautiful hymns it played were worth every single pain the the wretched world.

"Your mind works wonders, my dear." Hansel inhaled his sister's intoxicating aroma. These moments were what they held dearly, neither would leave their sight. To know the other was safe in arms. He shifted his weight so Gretel would be more comfortable on his lap.

This meeting was becoming such a bore. Two fairies had come and now, Red had begun to speak about Animals. The Talking kind. Gretel had nothing against them, as long as none stood in her way. Images bore on, that Goldilocks had killed so many and Gretel could only stop the tug of the corner of her lips. Deaths were so intriguing, such fun to watch them suffer.

There was going to be battle for these forsaken creatures. Hansel's hand squeezed Gretel's waist as he could feel her body tense. Red was the leader but a battle now was just ridiculous. But so much blood would be spilt. Think of that joy.

"Thumbelina, you will go with Hansel, Gretel, and Aurora and take the mansion from behind."

"What about Matilda?" The young maiden's tongue spoke out, leaving her brother's grip much to his dismay. "While half of you are muttering about Animal Rights, there is a bitch running around, cannibalizing young children everywhere with disgusting sweets." She glanced at the Gingerbread Man for a quick second, snarled. With every word muttered, her voice rose and took a step forward. There was anger for all the ignorance in this stupid meeting.

Her fingers grasped a knife from her belt, rubbing against the cool sharp object. "I don't believe you care so much." It was all a blur then. In a swift motion, her knife was thrown across he room and her brother's arms wrapped around her chest. A finger trailed along her cheek, soothing her as he nuzzled his chin on her slender shoulder.

"Hansel and I will go." Gretel said after her little fiasco. "But we'll fight til' the enemy dies. We will kill, not harm. So if you want this battle to be won, let us stay together without them. The tiny one and 'princess' will slow us."

Gretel's hand touched her brother's scruffy face. "We'd rather take chances with each other."