Scotty Rave
Member
CHAPTER NINE
"SCALING SPROUT TOWER"
"SCALING SPROUT TOWER"
Rags felt magnificent. Her misery of before was expelled, as she stretched out and tested her new limbs and enjoyed the feel of fresh, dry stuffing inside her clothes, which were still moth-eaten, but she was not so bothered about that. She twirled on one foot, arms spread wide, on the patch of grass just behind a row of high bushes, as her Pokémon watched her.
"Thank you all so much," she said happily.
"The bad news is we couldn't fix everything," said Jamjars solemnly. "You still can't dance to save your life."
Rags was in far too much of a good mood to take his good-natured sarcasm to heart, but Chlora swatted him with her head-leaf all the same, earning a round of stifled chuckling from both Flinter and Buckley. Jamjars glared daggers at the both of them.
"I think we've kept Bugsy waiting long enough," said Rags once she was in slightly calmer spirits again. "Let's find the Pokémon Centre."
"Anybody else curious what he said about privileges?" asked Chlora.
"A little, but we'll find out when we get there, won't we?" replied Flinter nonchalantly. "Anyway, you should never look a gift Ponyta in the mouth, whatever that means." Her cut out mouth stretched into a smile that went all the way from one side of her face to the other. "Fancy a race there?"
"But we don't know where the place is yet."
"That's half the fun."
"You're on," said Chlora, returning her smile, and the pair of them were off like a shot. Rags called after them, but when neither paid her any heed, she had no choice but to follow with Buckley and Jamjars close in tow. When they came in sight of the building, Jamjars noticed Buckley had stopped running and was staring at the space between some of the heavy trees that bordered the little metropolis on every side. The Hoothoot fluttered back and landed beside him.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I thought I saw something is all," replied the Rattata. "It's gone now. It probably wasn't anything important, anyway." Jamjars cast his gaze in the direction Buckley had been looking, but saw nothing save the flapping of leaves in the gentle strokes of the cool wind, and so they returned to their previous business of locating the Centre. Unbeknownst to them, a figure sat in the higher branches of one of the trees, which he used to propel himself onto a nearby rooftop. He landed uneasily and his knees buckled painfully from the impact, but he was quick to regain his balance. Eyes the colour of slate gazed across the points and spires of Violet towards the mighty pagoda in the northern district. There was a prize to be sought there, and he was determined to get it. He had lost time thanks to the idiot in the yellow hat, but thankfully managed to evade him. If luck was on his side, not that he believed in luck mind you, the annoying fool had gotten turned around and was halfway back to New Bark by now.
Sylvio Sly walked to the edge of the rooftop and hunkered down to get his bearings, and noticed something. It was the girl he had seen at the gangly swot's laboratory or whatever. He recognised the big, white hat on her head, the scruffy clothes, and especially the funny way she walked, like her arms and legs were flopping around. She had four Pokémon with her, and Danny had two, so if either of them were going to get in his way, he would need far more than his measly Cyndaquil. If the rumours he had heard about Sprout Tower, as the pagoda was known, proved true, he would not have a difficult time in there. Regardless, he disliked leaving anything to chance. He had to make his move as soon as possible.
"Now's your chance to prove I made the right choice when I risked my neck to get you," he whispered softly to the Pokéball he had unclipped from his belt. "Let's light a fire under their feet."
X
Bugsy took them up to the second floor of the Pokémon Centre and gestured to one of the doors. It was marked with the letters, 'IV,' and had a small, brass engraving of a flying-type profile on it, with the glass peephole in place as its eye. "I'm afraid I couldn't get two rooms in the end," he told them, taking a small key with a tag out of the pocket of his shorts, "but this should be just as good." He slid the key into the hole, unlocked the door and they all went inside.
Rags was not sure what to think when she saw it. Chlora and the others, however, knew exactly what to think, and with happy cries they practically launched themselves onto one of the two soft, spongy beds that awaited them. Jamjars perched himself on the bedstead and decided he was quite comfortable, while Buckley and Chlora jumped up on top of the pillows, and Flinter rolled around looking at absolutely everything there was to look at.
"The organisation behind all the Centres get a lot of donations every year," Bugsy explained, "so, in turn, they keep aside a few little luxuries for us, just in case. Get an eyeful of some of the goodies we get while we're here, Rags."
That was how the scarecrow became introduced to such modern accoutrements as fully stocked mini-fridges, en suite bathrooms, balconies, radio, television and air conditioning, the last of which she quite liked the feel of as it fanned pleasantly cooled wind through her straw hair without the awkward jostling she had come to expect from stronger outside breezes. The television never went on the whole time they were there, but she loved the radio, especially when she could put what Bugsy called, 'headphones,' on and listen to it while her friends slept without disturbing them. Presently, she contented herself to sitting down on the bed her team had picked out, while Bugsy settled on the other one and pulled off his boots so he could stretch himself to full length on top.
"I love camping," he said, "but nothing beats a proper bed for comfort!" A bit later on, after he had downed a drink he found in the fridge, he continued, "I talked around a bit while you were gone, and there are a couple of things we need to sort out."
"What's that?" asked Rags.
"The first is that if you’re going to fight Falkner to win my girls back for me - and seriously, you have no idea how much that kindness means to me - you'll need to figure out a decent strategy. Flying-types hate rock-types, so if you train your Geodude up enough, you've already won."
"Sounds good to me," Flinter piped up from her current position on Rags' lap, for she was especially eager to prove herself to her new team in a proper match. "You just point me at whoever needs a good bonkin'."
"The second thing's a bit trickier," said Bugsy. "Unfortunately, the trainers at Violet Gym do things a bit differently to how it normally works. Falkner will only accept official challenges from trainers who earn the approval of the Brotherhood of the Bellsprout."
"And what's that when it's at home?" asked Rags.
"You saw that ruddy great pagoda on the other side of town, didn't you?"
"I saw a tower."
"Right," said Bugsy, "well, it's actually a monastery. The Brotherhood have lived and trained there for who knows how long, and they're highly respected 'round these parts. If the abbot gives you his official approval, then Falkner will have no choice but to face you in a League battle."
"And how exactly would we get this Abby bloke's approval?" asked Chlora, who was curled up on a pillow.
"I wish I knew," sighed Bugsy. "It could be anything. All we can do is go up there and find out. Thankfully, it seems people can just come and go as they please, if they don't mind the monks keeping a constant eye on what you're up to."
"So we should head up there this evening," said Rags, "so we can get your Pokémon back as quickly as we can." Bugsy agreed wholeheartedly, although when they did set out it was an hour after they intended because it so happened he was a very deep sleeper.
It was past evening and getting onto night-time when they reached the pagoda. They had to leave the heart of the city and venture into the suburbs, and from the suburbs went into the rolling hills which were the only thing separating the city from the northern woods and the higher climbs of the land of Johto. It was on the far side of a small, gurgling river, which Bugsy guessed connected Violet Pond to other waters before heading out to sea, and it was so incredibly tall close up that when Rags craned her neck to see if she could see the roof, she fell right over! It was absolutely gigantic! Humungous! Why, in fact, it was downright gigantous! The door was open, and a strange man dressed in a grey robe and sandals came out to meet them. He wore a necklace of large beads about his neck, and his head was completely shaven.
Rags had never seen a person with no hair before and so had no idea the top of one's head should be that shape, so her first reaction was to put one hand on Bugsy's head and the other on the man's to see if her sewn-on eyes were not playing tricks on her. The man, to his credit, simply chuckled, gently removed her hand and bowed lowly and politely.
"Bless you both," he said, "and welcome to our temple. Are you here seeking to take the abbot's test so you may enter Violet Gym?"
"We sort of need to," said Bugsy, returning the bow, and he told him their story.
The monk laughed, although his tone was not mocking in the slightest. "While we believe peaceful methods should be employed before conflict is necessitated," he said, "fighting for the honour of a good friend is an admirable goal. Please, follow me and I will speak with the abbot. I understand the walk up here from the city is tiring, so you are welcome to come in and replenish yourselves. Some of our younger initiates have just returned from a long journey and are taking late prayers, but you may watch and witness some of our practises if you are careful not to disturb them."
They went into the tower, where the monk showed them to a large, square room with a stone floor. There were eight other monks inside, many of them no older than Bugsy, kneeling on woven mats in front of an intricately detailed shrine. The eldest walked amongst them swinging a pot of incense back and forth. Mixed in with the human monks were numerous Pokémon that the Pokédex explained to be:
"Entry number 64: Bellsprout. The Flower Pokémon, classified grass-poison dual type. Grass-type egg group. Bellsprouts are an insectivorous species that oftentimes develop in heavily forested regions and jungles, and like their plant cousins are able to draw out nutrients from soil and sunlight by using super-receptive points in the soles of their feet if food becomes scarce. Their thin, flexible bodies are not supported by a solid bone structure, allowing them to escape predation by manoeuvring through tangled foliage where enemies cannot reach them. When threatened, their leaves release toxins that, while not always deadly, can cause painful stinging and allergic reactions..."
"Insectivorous," Bugsy shuddered.
The first monk guided them to another door in the side of the prayers chamber, where a long, low table awaited them. They were led to kneel down in front of it, and provided with wooden bowls of rice, sliced fruit and cups of a liquid that was slightly too pink and sweet-tasting to be water. Rags ate nothing, and Bugsy simply drank politely, but the Pokémon made short work of both their meals.
"Pokémon," Bugsy smiled and shook his head, "they're all bottomless pits."
"Being great all the time burns up a lot of calories!" said Flinter around a mouthful of chopped apple and berry segments.
"I'm going to go watch the monks, see what happens," said Rags, standing up, leaving Bugsy and the rest to swap stories while they dined. She found an empty mat at the back of the room and tried to copy their movements, crossing her legs underneath her and tilting her head down with her eyes closed, but she could not keep herself from opening them again and watching the elder monk going back and forth with his incense, the little gold pot leaving twinkling trails of purple mist in its wake. To and fro, left and right, always keeping a beat to the quiet murmurings of the monks. She began to feel quite heady and her eyes started to close, lulled by their soothing chants, and then there came a soft whispering in her ear. First, she thought she was gazing up at stars, but then she realised that the cloud of purple mist had engulfed her, and the stars were the little winking particles that permeated it. Suddenly, two huge, white eyes and a wide mouth formed in front of her.
"Don't scream," said the disembodied creature, "I'm not going to hurt you. Let's talk."
It was some time later when Bugsy, the four Pokémon and the monk who had brought them into the temple stood around Rags in the otherwise empty hall of prayers. According to the elder, the girl had fallen into a trance with the initiates, but had not come out of it with them. She had ended up flat on her back and they had moved her to somewhere more comfortable. Some wondered if she had had an allergic reaction to their sacred incense, but scarecrows do not get allergies, and let me tell you, they all received quite a nasty surprise when they tried to find a heartbeat or a pulse and instead found sticks and straw underneath her clothes. The monk's wonderment, and that of his brothers, was well controlled. He soon decided that there was nothing else he could do for the time and left them in privacy. So he told them, anyway. The truth was that now he really did have something worth the venerable old abbot's attention. The pagoda had its history of oddities and bizarre events. Why, according to legend, it had been built around the body of a Bellsprout that had grown to over a hundred feet high in just a day and all the monks believed it, but this was remarkable even to them.
"We were going to tell you eventually," Jamjars told Bugsy diplomatically.
"You know, I thought there was something about her," the boy replied. "How did it happen?"
"No clue," said Chlora, "that's just the way she is."
"You don't think it's weird?" asked Bugsy. "She's not like a normal person."
"Says the boy with lavender girl's curls in his hair," Flinter sniped teasingly, causing Bugsy to put his hands over top of his head and blush deeply. Buckley swatted the Geodude upside the back of her head, and a brief slap-fight broke out between them both, which was ended by Chlora putting their foreheads together.
"It's not weird at all," she said. "Way I see it, she walks and talks like any person, so why shouldn't she be a good trainer as well? Okay, she's a bit rough 'round the edges but that's only because she's still as new at this team bit as the rest of us. Bet you weren't so amazing before you got your three, and Rags at least kept hold of us."
Bugsy visibly winced at the cutting remark, but could not help take in Chlora's insouciance and the agreement of her companions with a degree of awe. He could have argued the matter further, but there was very little he could say in response to the Pokémon's unwavering confidence.
"She's helping you, as well," Chlora went on, "and that was with all those other humans there, too."
Bugsy winced a second time. It was true. It had been his own kind who had attacked him, unjustly accused him of being a criminal and, through nothing short of brazen cheek, snatched his Pokéballs from him. It had been Rags, someone he just discovered had innocently strolled straight out of a painting of picturesque farm life he had once seen in a city gallery, who offered him a helping glove.
"Well put," came a strange voice, "but I think now is the best time to cease being so defensive, and given I think quite a lot, I've gotten rather good at it." The five of them turned around, and were alarmed to see Rags sitting up perfectly straight and smiling at them. Hovering next to her was a ball of black-and-purple mist with a big, fang-filled smile and sharp, devious-looking eyes.
"Sorry to worry you all," said the scarecrow, and gestured to the creature, who had been the one who had spoken before, "Booligan here wanted to talk in private. He wants to come along with us so he can see outside again."
BOOLIGAN the Gastly
Level 5 / Male / Serious nature; strongly defiant.
"Quite right," said the Gastly. "We un-departed Pokémon tend to gravitate around where our physical lives ended, but that gets rather boring after a time. Unfortunately my nature wouldn't let me leave on my own, so the best way was to get myself a trainer, but I shouldn't just have any trainer. I should have one I know will look after my needs instead of argue about them all day..."
He rambled on in this fashion for a good while, until they heard a commotion just outside the room. "It's Brother Troy!" somebody said urgently. "And the abbot! Quickly! Quickly!" Several monks and their Bellsprouts darted past the door and up the stairs to the next floor of the tower, all the time yelling for the abbot and the brother, who must have been in some kind of trouble.
"We should check it out," said Bugsy, "but the way those monks are crowding up the stairs, I don't think we could get by them."
"I can fly over their heads, but I couldn't carry everyone with me," said Jamjars ruefully.
"Jolly good thing I know this place like the back of my hand, then, figuratively speaking," said Booligan smugly. "Come on, follow me."
The Gastly drifted out of the room and down the hallway, the rest of the group following close behind, and came to a wall that looked exactly the same as every other. They were about to demand what kind of game Booligan thought he was playing at, then he suddenly faded through the solid wood. A moment later, there was a loud, 'clunk,' from somewhere, and a door-sized section of the wall slid down into the floor. Behind it was a small, dark lift, and Booligan was hovering in the centre.
"This lift was installed as a precaution," the Gastly explained as they piled in, "so that the monks could escape in times of trouble, but they've been left in peace for so long that most of them forget it's even here." Rags pulled a lever on the side, and the lift shot up on a system of rope pulleys, reaching the top with an uncomfortable shake that rattled their teeth inside their heads. They were thankful to get out of it, because no sooner had they vacated the lift when the old, rotten ropes broke apart and it plummeted all the way down to the ground and was smashed into splinters!
"That could've been us!" Buckley gawked.
"Did you mean to nearly kill us!?" Flinter demanded, pointing at Booligan.
"My mistake," replied Booligan, not really meaning it. "What matters is that we got up here, I think." They were in a tiny room, barely large enough to hold them. On one side of them was the hole the lift had vanished down, and on the other was a door, the narrow slivers of light pouring around it the only thing keeping it from being pitch black. They carefully pushed it open, and found themselves in a hexagonal room, with an alcove carved out of each wall, and sitting in each alcove was a bronze statue of a sitting human with a tall Bellsprout behind them. Each human was dressed in the same manner and their heads were equally void of hair, but their faces were all very different.
Three people were in the room. One was the monk who had led them into the tower, who must have been Brother Troy. He was on his knees with his head bowed low. Attending to him was an elderly man dressed in purple and gold robes, with a long, white beard. This was Abbot Li, the revered grand master of the Brotherhood of the Bellsprout. Finally, the last of these three, who loomed over the other two with something clutched tightly in his hand, emanating a pulsing green light between his fingers, needed no introduction, but it would not have displeased him to receive one all the same. Perched on his left shoulder was a small, blue Pokémon with long, white fangs and webbed wings, and hovering by his right was another Gastly, this one with narrow, malevolent eyes and tendrils emitting from the middle of its shadowy central mass.
"Sylvio!" called Rags and Chlora.
"Great, it's the girl who walked out of a charity shop," sneered Sylvio. His expression dropped when he caught sight of Chlora's black scarf and he checked the hem of his coat. "So that's what happened to it! This coat was imported all the way from Castelia! It's an original by Savile Brothers!"
"What a coincidence," sniped the Chikorita, "so's my scarf! Don't you think it brings out my beautiful eyes?"
Sylvio bit his lower lip and made a furious sound like, "arkleblungle!"
"That's enough," said Rags sternly. "What did you steal now, Sylvio? You've upset my friends before and you're not getting away with it this time!"
"That twerp with the Marill and Totodile said more or less the same thing," said Sylvio, and he turned halfway towards the only window in the room. "I told Tito if he couldn't hold the monks back until I call him, we'll burn this whole stupid temple whatever to the ground, and I reckon he's probably getting tired out from pruning their shrubs by now. So...” He let the sentence hang and produced a match, which he struck against the sole of his boot. The sight of the flickering light paralysed Rags on the spot.
"You would damn your own soul with such an evil act, son," said Abbot Li. "You would wilfully destroy a gathering place for those seeking the path to inner peace without the disturbances of the outside world to distract them, out of pure spite?"
"Let me tell you something, you old fossil," said Sylvio. "I'm doing you a favour. Don't you know it's better to burn out than to fade away?"
"NO!"
This was from Booligan. The Gastly hurled himself forward before either of Sylvio's two present Pokémon could move to protect their master. He brushed over the match, extinguishing its light, and then passed right through the boy's chest and out of his back before circling overhead to Rags and company. Sylvio was thrown off his feet and landed hard on his back. Tito came into the room at that point, alerted to his trainer's astonished cries, and stared in horror when he saw him prone on the floor. Sylvio managed to calm his screams and clutched his hands over his heart before staring in fright at Booligan, who responded with a dangerous glare.
"If you don't want another dose, boy," the Gastly's tongue dripped with venom, "I'd suggest you run away now and never show your face in this holy place again, because now your life depends on it."
"What’re you...?" Sylvio began, then fell down again with a strangled, bloodcurdling cry. The gathered people, including a few of the monks who had finally managed to get up the stairs and were attempting to file into the chamber, Pokémon and scarecrow watched this horrifying display, and they could all swear they saw tongues of transparent, purple flame flickering out of the fallen boy’s chest. "Tito," he wheezed, "Nerezza, Orfeo, g-get...get me outta here...n-now!”
The winged one, a Zubat, fluttered over to the window opened its jaws, letting fly a wave of ultrasonic noise that shattered the glass into a thousand fragments. With a little help from his other two creatures, Sylvio rose to his feet.
"I've still got this," he grinned through his pain, showing all of them the fist through which the green light came, and then he threw himself through the broken pane before anybody could get close enough to stop him. His Pokémon followed, and when the rest reached the window, they saw him already on the ground and sprinting away as fast as he could. A length of rope with a hooked claw on the end hung from the outer sill, swaying in the breeze.
There was a moment of tense disbelief all around, which was broken by Rags going to Abbot Li and asking if he was hurt.
"I am fine, my child," he said, and put a hand on her arm. Recognition set in and both of his eyebrows rose up on his forehead. "Oh, so you are the one Brother Troy told me of. I have been looking forward to our meeting, but please, we must get him to his bed so that he may recover before anything else."
Two younger monks came over and offered to help, taking the prone Brother Troy under his arms and legs and carrying him out of the chamber. The abbot insisted that the rest return to their prior activities once he had been thoroughly checked over by one of the other masters. Rags, Bugsy and the abbot were soon left in relative privacy so they could speak. Bugsy's first question was what had been stolen.
"A most holy artefact," sighed the old grand master. "It is called the Ilex Chime. According to ancient traditions, it was a vital component to a ceremony that took place at a temple in Ilex Forest."
"That's just west of Azalea," said Bugsy.
"Correct,” continued the abbot. "We do not know all of the Ilex Chime's secrets, however. It is the property of another sect that lived in harmony with us for many centuries. A previous grand master of the Brotherhood of the Bellsprout was given the task of safeguarding it. I've no idea how that boy came to know about it, but it grieves me to have failed."
"Don't worry about it," said Chlora. "We'll get it back for you. I don't get the holy artefact bit, but everyone's entitled to a few mistakes in their life, that's just how it is."
"Some rather unforeseen wisdom on your part, Chlo'," said Buckley.
"I just speak from experience," the Chikorita shrugged.
"We have to get it back," said Booligan grimly, "but he won't be causing any trouble with it in the near future, at least. Believe you me, I made quite sure of that."
"What did you do to him, Booligan?" Rags asked timidly.
The Gastly grinned malevolently and said, "I put a curse on him. He'll never threaten sanctified grounds again, because he'll never walk on them without collapsing in agony. Any time he even gets close to it, every one of his muscles will feel like it's about to explode."
They all stared at him.
"That's so wrong," gaped Chlora, "and yet so cool."
"A drastic move," said the abbot sternly, "but for acting to save our temple, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. Bless you." He turned to Bugsy. "May I speak to the girl and her Pokémon in private for a few minutes, please? Once we're done I promise you'll both be on your way."
"Uh, sure," said Bugsy uncertainly. "I'll be waiting downstairs, Rags."
He left them to it.
"You are an oddity, child," said the abbot. "You walk and talk like a creature of the flesh, but instead you are of wood and straw. By some means you have acquired a soul of your own, and while I cannot be certain, I feel you are pure."
"You'd jolly well better after what she's been through already," snorted Chlora.
The abbot nodded and said, "Every life in this universe is precious, and for you to live is a sign that it is no longer just a gift bestowed upon biological entities. I think that such a thing is not an accident. A great journey could be awaiting you all, one with effects that will be felt all across Johto. You will touch the lives of everybody you meet. Tell me, what would you do if you could keep travelling?"
Rags thought about it. "Chlora says that we can be the best at whatever we need to be," she said. "I believe her."
"Perhaps you allow yourself to be led too easily," the abbot warned, earning annoyed looks from most of the Pokémon, "but I understand. Your way is open. You wish to learn before you choose a path to walk. It will be strewn with difficulties. Many human trainers who possess at least some understanding of our world must face these in time, but you, you who are like a new-born baby, sometimes you will come across obstacles that appear to be insurmountable." He put a hand on the scarecrow's shoulder. "You and your Pokémon must seek solace and support in each other in order to overcome them. Alone, you will be crushed. Together, you can be invincible. It is the empowering unity between people and Pokémon that we in the Brotherhood of the Bellsprout meditate upon."
He paused to reflect on his own words before he continued, "If there was ever a journey that not only deserved to be pushed forth, but needed to be, it is yours. I will give you my blessing to enter Violet Gym. Take this." He placed a small, tightly rolled scroll on silvery paper in her hand. "Show this to Falkner, and he will have no choice but to accept your challenge." Rags looked at the scroll, tucked it under her shirt and hugged the abbot, much to his surprise.
"Is she allowed to do that?" Buckley whispered to Jamjars, whose response was a tiny shrug.
X
Booligan hovered a little bit behind when the party said their goodbyes and left the pagoda to begin their return trip to Violet City. The Gastly gazed up at ancient building and let out a low, deep sigh. It was an exciting prospect, but even a ghost could feel worry, and maybe a slight touch of fear.
"You have taken quite a risk in choosing her as your trainer," said Abbot Li.
"No more than you did letting her take the challenge," replied the Gastly. "I'm not going to change my mind."
"No, you always were too proud for that," said the abbot. "Even when you were one of us, you stubbornly only ever trusted your own judgement. Never forget that arrogance was exactly how you ended up the way you are now."
"I'll never forget, old man," said the Gastly, "and I'll never give up, either."
The abbot smiled and bowed. "Go in peace, my son," he said. Booligan had no head to bow, but he tipped the black part of his mass forwards slightly in response. The abbot went back inside, and Booligan drifted off to follow his new companions, ready to see what the wide world beyond those four walls had to offer.
X
Falkner brooded in his room at Violet Gym, his followers gathered around him. He idly threw the Pokéballs he had taken from Bugsy into the air and caught them as they fell back down. He had just gotten home from the hospital, as he explained to the men, where two of their own lay injured. Truth be told, he had not seen who exactly put them there, and they were not conscious enough to tell him, but it was easy to blame the bug-loving Azaleans, especially his hated arch-rival, who even now he was convinced would be plotting against him. The girl, too, the weird, lank one with the funny walk and the raggedy clothes. He had never heard of her before, and he knew all of Bugsy's creepy little circle. This worried him. He had seen the creatures she carried around with her, but that said nothing for what they could do, what kind of tactics they would use. He decided there was little he could do except wait them out and prepare for every eventuality. His personal code would not allow him to simply go back on his agreement and make off with his captives if he lost, but that would not stop him from using every trick he could, and as sure as the winds blew, he had enough of them to keep just about anyone who came for him at bay.
"If Bugsy wants these back so badly," he said, examining one of the 'balls, "then let him come. The moment he and that other freak step inside this arena, I’ll put a stop to this whole horrible mess, permanently."
