Banana Republic I

Any experienced hunter would know to trust their own guts.

Now, Irwin had been on the job for no more than three months, but he would otherwise agree with the hunter's adage. His gut, for instance, was telling him that something was not right with the second call.

He figured that after this brief excursion, he would install some sort of software that stores voice calls and messages on their landline telephone. At least, until smartphones and instant messaging become more mainstream.

Gordon was smack dab in the middle of Ohio when he was searching for Anna Milton and now he told them that he was lying low in the West Coast without so much as a heads-up.

It reeked of foul play.

He had Ella call Gordon again, just to make sure that his first message was not part of the trap orchestrated by whomever sent the second message. But all that came was the dial tone. Gordon was unreachable.

But since he's quite excited to test out his new prowess, he thought it best to handle the case personally.

Irwin knew that as he convened the various members of his little team in the parlor room.

Ella sat on the ornate couch, freshly carried from its vacation on the third floor. She had been informed of the importance of this meeting even before it became important, as she was the one who took the second call.

Andy, who arrived late, sat on the antique leather chair beside the room's fireplace. He had just woken up, this late in the morning, as he had trained his abilities until midnight, as was prescribed by Irwin himself.

Charlotte was there too, seated next to Ella as she munched on Irwin's newly bought personal almonds. 

Unlike yesterday, she had worn new clothes and bathed for the first time in a couple of months, revealing her prior beauty and removing the months of dirt that had stained her very being. Had he not seen her prior to her captivity, Irwin would not have recognized her as she walked out of that hallway in her new frilly dress and light makeup.

Ella's makeover had worked wonders to remove every blotch on her blemished face, which, of course, would soon heal over the next few weeks, courtesy of her witchy magik.

Irwin stood at the center of the parlor room, hands on hip as he discussed the parameters of his new mission.

"...As such, once Charlotte and I are gone, Andy will be in charge of feeding and guarding Ansem Weems." He pointed to Andy. "Since we have stopped the construction on the other seven cells, there will be no other person that leaves and enters that prison. Not even you, Ella."

"Sure, man. What about my training?" Andy asked, no longer that hesitant in keeping his brother locked up. 

Not when he had to endure days of rants regarding the futility of resistance because the demons would soon enslave humanity and they - the special children - would be its masters.

"Keep it small and light. Don't let them out of the cage. If you're confident enough, then do it while you're guarding him. If not, then that's alright, too. It's not like he's gonna get out of that cell." Irwin had inspected the cell and building that surrounded it. 

Although incomplete, the furnished cells, office, and outer walls had all been up to code and blueprints. He was confident of its security, even to lower-ranked demons.

"So, anymore questions?" He gazed around the room and saw Ella raising her hand like a talented student. "Yes, Miss Thorrin?"

"Uh, Professor, when will you be back and, also, who's going to oversee the construction of the garden park?" She asked.

The question instilled a sense of helplessness within Irwin. It was clear that he was running her ragged with all the responsibilities he had left to her, but he had no choice for anyone with even an ounce of brain would see the veil beneath the fabrications and their lies. He needed someone he could trust and that someone better knew the dark side of this world.

"Sorry, Ella. I promise that once Andy gets good at his powers, he'll be the one doing jobs outside the manor." He said, placing his hands together as a plea to a judgemental goddess.

"Fine." She scoffed, before glaring at Andy. "You better do a good job!"

Her words unnerved Andy, for he sunk deeper into his chair, not daring to look her in the eye when he replied, "Y-yes, ma'am!"

"Alright. We'll be leaving in about three hours, just after lunch." He looked towards Charlotte. "Why don't you accompany Ella to the third floor and ready some hex bags for your use? We might be facing some enemies once we get to Portland."

He clapped his hands, signifying the end of the meeting.

Andy took off to the training grounds where dozens of small cages filled with cute yet filthy animals were delivered and located.

Ella and Charlotte, meanwhile, went upstairs and equipped the witch with the ingredients for her spell repertoire, much of which were rare components that Lady Anastasia had created a daily quota for Irwin. He had been reluctantly gracious enough to allow Charlotte to take up much of that quota.

He, too, prepared for the trip, having restocked his silver briefcase with hex bags for his commonly used spells. Five bags for Flaming Whip, two bags for Mind Guardian, two handheld mirrors for Blood Scry, two vials of Gordon's blood, and an uncreated hex bag for Solitary Immolation.

He had also received his newly minted M1911 pistol which he stashed beside a Winchester shotgun, and five hand grenades, with his silver sword being left in the manor. Although the cold weapon had proven useful in the past few fights, it would not be that much of use in the ensuing mission, as he had decided to go for unarmed combat.

Since Portland was a day's drive away, Irwin thought it would be best to call in the favor from a political friend of his.

Noticing Charlotte descending the stairs in a button-up long-sleeved shirt tucked under a tight dark blue jeans and a plaid jacket with as many pockets as one could possibly fit, Irwin couldn't help but smile and whistled as if impressed by the sight.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

"Anytime, master." She replied.

He scoffed. "You don't have to call me master, you know."

"Alright, then. Richard." She corrected herself, saying his name with a blush on her face. "Where are we going?"

"A brief detour."

●●●●●

"Are you ready, master?" Asked Charlotte.

"What?" Irwin looked around the area and found himself outside of the Royal Danish Consulate. "What was that, Charlotte?"

She looked confused, evident by the slight tilt on her head and the small pout on her lips. "Uh, are you ready to leave, master?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Irwin shook off the weirdness in his head. It might have been the aftereffects of the Will Domination, for he knew how powerful any magik that contained even a hint of the Natural Order.

As he walked down the busy streets of the city, Irwin tried to remember what had happened last night. He assumed they had driven for a day or so, since the sun was still rising and the corporate workers that filled this large skyscraper were barely walking with their coffee in hand.

"Where's our hotel?" He asked Charlotte.

"Three blocks from here." She answered, giving him a weird look. "Are you alright, master?"

"I, uh, I told you, Charlotte, don't call me master. If nothing else, call me… sir." He said. The conversation felt like it had happened not mere moments ago for him.

Just as he turned the ignition, the memory came loose like an unclogged waterfall.

They had taken six hours to drive to Congressman Brown's office and discussed various things with him. The more important matters were his progress on their little side project and Gordon's call to Portland.

He had asked for a little discretionary quota since he would be making trouble in a big city and wanted what Brown could offer him in return to settling his favor. The man was more than happy enough to make a few calls to Portland's port authority and, for free, his friend in the NSA would be tracking down the second call Gordon made.

As the memories resurfaced in his mind, Irwin felt as if he was but a third party during the conversation. 

A mere observer between the verbal exchange, yet still felt the prickling sensation in his palms, saw the gaudy glass sculptures in his Veranda, heard his maid gossiping about his new mistress, smelled the second-hand smoke from Congressman Brown's Cuban cigar, and tasted the hints of blood, incense, and plants wafting delicately in the air.

He snapped out of the condition, opting instead to focus on the long drive to Portland.

Just as he stepped on the gas pedal, Irwin noted the vague figure in the side-view mirror, far enough for a vague silhouette. He glared at the reflection before gaining a smirk on his face, knowing that the figure could see it.

He muttered under his breath. "What the fuck?"