Skull and Dagger

“Again?” Frank exclaimed in disbelief when he heard his cell door unlock. “It's like a fucking holiday spot in here, what with all the visitors...”

The man who appeared in the doorway was one he had never seen before but, given the finery of his clothing, was obviously an important person.

“Who’re you?” Frank scowled at him.

“This is he?” the visitor inquired of the guard. After the nod he got in response, his eyes burned with rage as he turned back to Frank.

Frank frowned for a second at the familiar anger in those hazel eyes. “Oi, wait a minute...” he began.

His visitor cut him off. “I am the father of the girl you brutalized,” Henry Simmons announced. “And it will be my pleasure to watch you die.”

“Oi, now, hold on just a second,” Frank protested, still trying to absorb the fact that he was talking to Annabelle’s father. “I didn’t do anything to ‘Belle!”

“You raped and murdered her, you fiend!” Henry cried out, tears forming in his eyes. “My sweet, little girl... How could you?!”

“OK, first off.” Frank retorted, “As far as I know, your daughter’s still very much alive, virtue fully intact. That is, unless the nutcase Lord Williams handed her off to in order to fake her death hasn’t done anything to her yet. Second, ‘sweet, little girl’? Have you ever actually met your daughter?”

“How dare you?” Henry accused furiously. “You dare deny...and then accuse...” He was too livid to finish either sentiment.

“I do ‘cause it‘s true,” Frank retorted. “You’re being played, Simmons, and if you don’t wise up to it soon, you’re gonna end up shit broke just like my family did.”

“That’s it!” Henry exclaimed, practically fleeing from the cell. “I can’t hear this murderer’s words any more!”

Frank sighed. “Man lives happily in the land of denial,” he informed the guard as the cell door slammed shut once more...
* * *

“Oh dear, he really scared you, didn’t he?” Darla asked, concerned.

“Scared? Me? Huh?” Annabelle would characterize her mood more as confused than scared.

“Bob, you are such an ass!” Darla called through the door, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that fits in with the whole kidnapping thing,” Annabelle agreed, coming back to herself a bit.

“ ‘Kidnapping’?” Darla repeated in disbelief. “We saved you!”

“Only so that Bob could ravage me instead of Quinn? Oh yeah, that’s a real comfort,” Annabelle retorted sarcastically.

“Bob what? No, he won’t- He’s just-” Darla stuttered.

“An ass?” Annabelle suggested helpfully.

Darla nodded vigorously. “Oh god,” she put her face in her hands, “what exactly did he tell you was going on?” There was a hint of dread in her voice.

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Annabelle insisted. “I inferred that Bob took out Quinn after helping to take out Frank, and I was one of the spoils of war.”

“Wait a minute...Bob helped who take out what?” Darla seemed shocked and horrified.

“Quinn said it, and Lord Williams implied it,” Annabelle insisted primly.

“Men!” Darla muttered in despair. “Bob had absolutely no part in the plot against Frank, and he certainly doesn’t mean you any harm,” she assured the frightened blond.

“But...Bob led us straight into that trap!” Annabelle insisted.

Darla winced. “Lord Williams used Quinn to buy out my informant,” she confessed apologetically. “I didn’t find out about it until Frank had already left. We chased after him to warn him, but...well, you had too much of a head start...”

Annabelle frowned at the completely different picture of events that was being painted before her. “Bob wants me...” she began hesitantly.

Darla rolled her eyes. “Bob wants everything that even remotely qualifies as female. And some things that don’t.” Her voice softened then. “You’re lucky in that. Frank is much more...single-minded in his affections...”

“So Bob won’t...?” Relief flooded through Annabelle as she finally fully absorbed the fact that she was among friends.

Darla shook her head. “He respects Frank too much to hurt you. Even if he’ll never admit it outside of the bedroom,” she added with a roll of her eyes.

Annabelle couldn’t help but laugh at that. “So why do you put up with him?” she asked.

A blush lit up Darla’s cheeks. “He’s the only one for me,” she admitted before returning to her usual confident manner. “Besides, where else am I going to find a man that lets me keep up my...profession?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Annabelle agreed, slumping slightly now that the adrenaline had worn off.

“Here,” Darla said kindly, “we need to wash the blood off of you, get you into some clean clothes...”

Annabelle shook her head. “Frank-” she insisted.

“We’re on our way there right now,” Darla assured her. “But, first, we’ve got to take care of you...”