Backstage, Again

Beside the curtain stood a familiar man, this time doing a poor imitation of Gandalf, complete with gray robe, gnarled staff, and pointy hat. I was about to suggest that he ask the balding prop man for a fake beard when he spoke, “We meet again, Misses Douglas and Mendes.”

“What are you doing here, Sarumon?” Because, I know of three fictional wizards and I don’t think Gandalf or Dumbledore would have anything to do with these assholes.

“As I told you, I’m seeking my quarry. Someone here has a connection and they’re going to give me that link in exchange for my services.”

“And, what, you’re just going to ignore everything else that’s happening, because you’ve got your sights set on your ‘quarry’?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. After all, the regular people have you and your team to save them.”

At which point, I shut my big dumb gob, lest the man with the silly costume blow my cover.

Out on the stage, everything from the performances had been removed and what appeared to be an operating table, complete with restraining straps, was being wheeled to the center and tilted so that it was mostly upright.

The sound of blood pumping in my ears deafened me to the approach of the ogrish guards behind us. One clasped me on the shoulder with bruising **** while the other did the same to Garotinha. I tried to cry out when the guard pushed my former cellmate back onto the stage, but was silenced by a massive hand clapped over my mouth.

The supposed wizard turned to follow, but stopped to mutter, “Now, please excuse me while I go and perform one evil act and stand by for a second.”