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Regardless of their recent victories, Razorbeard's mood is rather… foul. Metallic fingers drum on the rest of his armchair as he broods over the last report.
Rayman… rebels. The ‘hero’ hasn’t stopped being a nuisance ever since Razorbeard managed to capture him. Why, he's almost as much a threat behind bars as he’s outside trashing his henchmen. The limbless cretin spits in his face and has the audacity to bolster the morale of all who are captive in his vicinity.
And this simply can’t do.
He can’t kill Rayman. A unique specimen like him is far too rare and valuable to just waste like that.
No, what Razorbeard wants - what he told the limbless freak to his face - is to turn him into a slave. And nothing about that plan has changed.
But what he needs is a way to break the little runt. For good.
“Admiral-”
“Can’t you see I’m busy!” the robot grunts back to his scout, without sparing him the decency to turn around and face him.
“But Sir.”
Razorbeard's visor twitches at the audacity. So he’s got a brave one here with a death wish, okay-
“We lost another base in the forest, but we managed to track down the rebel that's responsible for it.”
…or maybe not.
The chair swivels around with a violent spin, Razorbeard’s optics pinched to an intense glint.
“Who?”
“Ly. Sir.”
The wild fairy.
Without a word, Razorbeard hops off his chair and stalks towards the shivering scout.
“Say that again.”
“Ly,” he gulps, “Sir.”
The grin beginning to spread under Razorbeard’s blade reaches his eyes.
“Marvelous.”
For a second the scout allows himself to look relieved. Then Razorbeard’s voice starts to rumble in a low chuckle before it rises to break out into a villainous laughter. Excitedly, he spins on his pegleg before coming to a stop right before the Spyglass’s nose.
“I want to capture her myself!”
Sooner or later she's gonna tire of this. The hunt has been going on for hours already.
They've had losses to report, quite a number too, but for each fallen pirate, Razorbeard funnels more reinforcement. After revealing her position there's no way the Admiral is letting her get away this time.
Razorbeard watches from the hunting ship, his spyglass tracking the rustles in the foliage.
"Drive her to the west," he speaks into the crackling intercom by his side. "Base FG-12 readied a trap at the following coordinates..."
What makes the fairy so dangerous is that she's fast, especially when allowed to stay in her element. She melds with the habitat like she's one with it. What Razorbeard needs to do is to force her onto open terrain where they'll be able to take clear shots.
He watches the rustling move to a fresh clearing, where the robots took down trees and set up base just the other day. It's likely Ly doesn't even know about this one yet. The troup pursuing her is hot on her heels, while another is already lying in wait.
"Spring the trap now," Razorbeard commands, while he aims the cannon at the same spot.
"She's not there yet-" it crackles from the intercom.
"Spring the trap NOW!" the Admiral shouts just as Ly emerges from the foliage. An electric net shoots up from the ground; a hair's breadth away from entangling her. With swift feet, the fairy sidesteps the trap to the left where no boulder hinders her path-
only for a cannonball to explode on the very spot she sets foot upon.
Razorbeard blows the smoke from the Henchman's arm he used to light the cannon and shoves the lakey to the side.
"If you want something done right," he murmurs and calmly strides off to take over the wheel.
By the time Razorbeard's prisoner transport ship lands in the clearing, Ly's pursuers have caught up and done a fine job detaining the fairy with the bared trap. Wrapped in her electric cocoon the fairy writhes on the ground like a fly in a spider's web.
"Hello, Ly," Razorbeard steps into her view. Metallic hands reach out to pull her chin up so she's forced to look at him. What a catch.
"I know someone who would agonize about your well-being."
That's what he needs. That's precisely what he needs.
If Rayman won't bend to threats of violence, then he likely will at the expense of someone else. Ain't that how these so called heroes operate?
She struggles in his grasp. The electric net goes haywire with every movement in a way that makes Razorbeard’s fingertips tingle until she stills, the defeat setting in.
"Are you going to bring me to the prison ship?" she asks… and Razorbeard bursts out laughing, much to the confusion of the gathered Henchmen.
"No," he says, and draws a sword. An odd choice for the captain who so prefers the weapons of modern technology, but this is the kind of special occasion he reserves his trusted cutlass for.
If having Rayman on the prison ship taught him anything, then, that bringing another face of the resistance on board is just going to make another entire prison block unbearable.
He can already see it. Too many cages to keep under controlled silence, halls packed full with voices. First, the rumors. Then, a pipeline of information funneled between the worst offenders. And lastily - mutiny.
They may be slaves, but they're in cahoots still. Razorbeard is not daft.
No. To set an example, he needs to make sure either of them are broken first.
And with this opportunity, maybe he can manage both with one clean sweep.
He brings the sword up to Ly's neck. Her glare is steel as much as his blade and Razorbeard has silent respect for it.
He lets the weapon trail up her face until eventually, the fairy caves and squeezes her eyes shut in morbid anticipation. She's so ready to die here and now. But-
"I have other plans for you," Razorbeard whispers and cuts off a tuft of her hair before shoving the fairy back onto the ground. He gathers the fallen locks and turns to his Henchmen like Ly's not still glaring daggers at him.
"Didn't you say that the energy supply of the Excavation Machine was broken?" he drawls unconcerned, "I hear this one's packed to the brim with 'raw mystical power'."
The Henchmen exchange a confused glance.
"Fix the drill. I don't care how you do it," the Admiral says, striding off to the ship, "But make it happen."
“Shame I couldn't bring her to the ship," Razorbeard hums in front of Rayman’s cell. He makes a show of casually resting his hand at the hilt of the sword he brought for the occasion.
"Such a fine specimen. But unlike you, she didn't know when to accept defeat."
The admiral glimpses up to spot the wild look in Rayman's eyes. There's the frantic energy Razorbeard recognizes from cornered prey. The dilated pupils. The shallow breath.
The hostile aggression.
"No," the Limbless insists, ever determined as he steps closer to the electric bars of his cell.
"No, you're lying."
He plays the confident hero, but Razorbeard sees right through his facade.
As he swings his blade through the grid, he savors the amusement when the former hero has to jump back to avoid getting cut.
His visors glint in delight, the smile hidden beneath his beard reaching his eyes.
Even though Rayman’s quieter now, waiting on what Razorbeard has to say, the limbless freak still stands tall, despondent.
He needs to slouch a little more, Razorbeard thinks.
"Better believe it," the small robot says as he fishes in the pockets of his pants for the tuft of purple hair Rayman will be bound to recognize.
When he blows it into Rayman's cell, a good chunk of it lights aflame as it crosses the electric bars. What's left to make it in, gets caught in midair by the Limbless's disembodied hand. The look on his face is utterly priceless as Rayman's resilience crumbles.
Finally.
It's time to deliver the final blow.
"There was simply nothing left to salvage," Razorbeard hums with a casual, open-palmed shrug. "I would have preferred a living specimen, too. Corpses don't make a good workforce."
Rayman doesn't make a sound. But Razorbeard sees the way his chest begins to hitch in midair. The subtle tears beading at his eyes as he stares at the stray hair in his palm. His last resolve crumpling to the lies the pirate is feeding him.
Razorbeard locks his arms behind his back in pride.
'Drop, you fool,' he thinks, 'Down on your figurative knees, where you belong.'
"You're quite lucky, you know," Razorbeard says out loud, "To not have met the same fate."
It's not quite the desired effect when Rayman's jaw clenches and he flies at the cell door with a whirling fist. Whether it's from his failing hopes or the prison's security system - the result is all the same when Rayman's pieces sink to the ground one after the other, still shaking violently from the electric shock.
"Or maybe not," Razorbeard harrumphs, his small stature now towering over the twitching Limbless.
"That's exactly how Ly looked in her last moments."
Rayman is unresponsive, smoke rises from his charred body, as the tremors shake his very being. Razorbeard huffs haughtily at the sorry display. That is why robotic life is superior.
"Try not to kill yourself," he says - and means it.
A dead slave is a bad slave; the tiny shred of truth in his lies. He needs the Limbless compliant, not worthless.
But it's no longer fun when Rayman's not responding, so with a sigh he turns to leave.
Once his back is on the Limbless though, the wicked grin returns.
He’s gonna charge well tonight.
Rayman doesn't feel all there when he comes to again. His mind is whirring. The stench of smoke fills his nose, emitting from his fist clenching what remains of Ly.
He doesn't dare believe it's true, but ever since being stuck on this horrid prison ship… he hasn't heard from her.
The distance must have been too far to reach, he’d believed.
Or that Ly was simply too exhausted, keeping the fight up on her own.
…
He misses her voice.
The mere thought of never hearing it again…
Never seeing her again…
It tears at his heart with a deep aching pain that compares to nothing Rayman has known up to this point.
The tears come freely now that no pirate is around to bear witness. His breath catches, and his chest hitches… then there's sobs, whimpers.
The other prisoners, usually chatty to keep themselves distracted, are deadly silent as Rayman's sorrow echoes down the halls.
The next day, Razorbeard is positively giddy.
Word has spread onboard like a blaze, so by morning he'd been well aware of how delightfully well his little ruse worked out.
(If there’s bound to be rumors, then Razorbeard wants to be in control of what is being said.)
Despair is oh-so contagious. And now that Rayman stopped pep-talking everyone, he's hardly had a finer cell district than the one the former hero is kept in.
Funny how that works.
It’s rare Razorbeard’s mood stays so positive for this long. Even weeks later, the Henchmen occasionally get away being lazy and playful. The resistance has cracked. The battle is as good as won. The victorious mood is ever present on the entire ship. It is rumored that some robots have even been granted a vacation!
"Admiral!" the Spyglass enters the captain's cabin to find Razorbeard hovering over a map.
He spins to face the Scout with a mischievous glint in his optics.
"What news do you have for me?" he asks, his fingers steepled in eager anticipation.
The Spyglass doesn't look nervous at all, it stands proud and salutes to him with proper protocol. That bides for good news.
"We apprehended another rebel!" it proclaims. "The one who summons rain! It was easy, too. Without Rayman and Ly they're beginning to scatter. There are no longer enough Teensies around to provide proper leadership or escape routes."
That's music to his ears!
With all of them down that should only leave the giant to deal with. He's gonna be tough, but Razorbeard already has plans for that one, too.
"Where's the Rustbringer now?"
"He’s being kept in the area where he was caught for now. The crew wasn’t sure whether to bring him aboard. What with the whole… water thing."
“We’ll solve the ‘water thing’,” Razorbeard responds almost immediately. Globox isn’t worth keeping around. Too skittish and slow to be a workforce, too hungry to keep fed in the long run.
The admiral eagerly rubs his hands together.
“Get him here, I'll handle the execution myself! Then it's one less thing to worry about.”
And… if memory serves, the big glute was one of Rayman's companions. He could make him watch, teach him what happens to those that pose a risk.
Naturally… fate had other plans for him.
Not what concerns Globox's delivery; the frog arrives on the prison ship just fine… but the wonderful demonstration Razorbeard had prepared cannot be accessed by any robot now.
An actual thunderstorm has broken out on deck when Globox's execution was scheduled, forcing the mechanical crew indoors - the risk of electrocution far too high.
Lucky bastard, Razorbeard thinks. It's like a bad curse, or an Omen. Nature itself doesn't want the Rustbringer dead. His first setback in weeks. A minor delay.
“What do we do now?” Spyglass asks him. Two Henchman are holding the frog at gunpoint in his cabin, their guns humming with a characteristic loading sound, just in case the frog thinks about making a move.
But their captive is a whimpering mess; scared witless.
Razorbeard is bold enough to drudge forward and face him. The big frog shies away from him.
“Your fate is only postponed,” he drawls, “I could kill you here and now, but I want to do it properly.”
Razorbeard's voice drips with venom.
“I want your children and Rayman to watch.”
That seems to stir something in the frog. For a split second, he looks like he remembers something,
then returns to cower.
“N- no,” he whimpers, “Rayman can't see me like that.”
Oh goodie.
Razorbeard's eyes start to gleam viciously.
He knows exactly where this one is going to spend his last night.