A fist hit him from the darkness, flashing from nowhere to clout him on the side of the face, and the force of the punch slammed the back of his head against the hard stone wall. Wincing at the double blow, Jedar slowly opened his eyes to glare at his attacker, but unfortunately the white covering of a blindfold - he hoped it was a blindfold, but it was kind of hard to feel anything because his head was full of fluff - prevented him from doing so. However, the scent of expensive Mayalan cologne was in the air.

“Hello Crimson,” he said without any enthusiasm. “I notice you’re very bad at following advice, didn’t I suggest you should get a different perfume?”

“You’re not in a position to make smart comments, Jedar. You’ve put me in a very difficult situation.”

“Really. I can’t believe it’s any more uncomfortable than mine, I’m the one who’s manacled here, rememeber.” Jedar had the sudden urge to itch his scalp, or maybe just give it a good whack on the stones. He felt excessively light-headed, and was beginning to suspect it wasn’t just from numerous blows to the skull.

The blindfold was ripped painfully from his face, and the sudden light sent a stabbing ache straight to the back of his head so that he had to squint to see properly. He was in a small room, more an ancient bedroom than a cell of any kind, and though the walls were cold stone the floor was cracked and dusty and wooden. Light came from a position somewhat to his left and he guessed it to be some kind of lamp. Directly in front of him was Crimson.

The man hadn’t changed, he reflected. His neon pink hair was still the tangled mane that fell to his shoulders, and the gouged out left eye was still grotesquely scarred and uncovered. His clothing had changed a little, but it was still dead lamp black with gold trimmings; Crimson probably felt it made him look grand but Jedar had always thought he looked a right fop.

“I have an offer to make you, Jedar, and it’s a very simple one. You can either die, and I’ve heard that Asp excells at painful deaths so I don’t doubt that it will be unpleasant, or you can join me.”

“Oh dear, what to do, what to do?” He pretended to think about it. “How about this for an answer? I’d rather any type of death than to be part and parcel with a crackpot gamble to reinstate the Authority.”

Crimson’s fist hit him again, and this time his vision swam as his head hit the wall.

“The Authority will rise...”

“The Authority is dead! It died with Canard!”

To his credit, Crimson kept his temper in check this time, but the hatred and fury peeking out from the edges of his normally imperturbable mask made words or punches obselete. “But Canard will live again, and so will everything he stood for.”

“He stood for violence pardoned in the name of security.”

“He stood for law and order!” Crimson snarled. The man stood up, all traces of composure vanished from his face. “But you... you’re a thief. A common thief, and what’s more, an assassin and an anarchist. If I were to put you on trial, you would be guilty before the judge announced it! On numerous accounts far too many to mention here, guilty as charged, execution will be carried out immediately, case closed.”

“What, I wouldn’t even get to consult my lawyer?”

“Jedar,” and the man smiled, an effect ruined by the missing eye and by the hint of madness in the one remaining, “you’re a law-breaker, and law-breakers don’t get counsel, they don’t get chances. When the Authority was in power people understood that, and the Enforcers would make certain of it. Now, without Canard, what do we have? We have crime rising again, we have thieves, pickpockets, murderers, mime artists, all because the law is slipping. I intend to bring the age back!”

Shaking his head slowly, Jedar shifted his position. “I’m surprised, though, Crimson... you feel so passionate about this, so why do you bother ressurecting Canard? Why not set yourself up in power?”

“Oh, I am, Jedar. Canard will be President, yes, yet he will be but a symbol. I will be the power behind it all.”

And here to our right, folks, we have the perfect example of Cracked Madman With World-Domination Plans, Jedar thought sourly.

Crimson brushed imaginary dust from his jacket, the picture of composure once more. “You, however, won’t live to see it. A pity, really, but I haven’t enough time to keep you alive until then. I’ve asked Murdoch to dispose of you whenever he feels like it. I’ve heard there’s some animosity and competition between you two over a young lady.” He smirked. “I wish I could be here to see you die but, alas, I have business to attend to elsewhere.”

“Back to your plans to crush all countries under your thumb?”

“Blunt, but accurate.” He paused at the doorway, and, before he vanished out and closed the door with an ominous boom, said: “Goodbye, Jedar. Give the lord of Hell my well wishes.”