Settling Scores

[Thaal Sinestro]

“I know him,” Sinestro said as he leaned around the building and peered at the trio of primes. His hat was pushed all the way back on his head, the brim almost vertical in an attempt to reduce his silhouette. He clutched his rifle vertically against his chest, ready to reel around and fire at first opportunity. “His name is Ganondorf. The other two I don’t know.” The king’s features and clothing had changed, but not enough to be unrecognizable.

“I ken that one well,” Roland said, maintaining his native tongue while in the presence of the korugaran. “He made a town, not far away, and offered to supply the Town. Harriers lie in wait at all angles, but I can’t trust the man. He wears too many faces.”

A small smirk grew on Sinestro’s face, dark eyes twinkling. A moment of pride bubbled up from beneath the surface, a faint glimmer of warmth and excitement entering his chest for the first time in days. The great Ganondorf could not wrangle the sheriff’s affections and yet Sinestro stood beside him, deception fresh on his lips. “I might be able to talk this situation down,” he offered, looking back to the lawman.

Squinting, the sheriff thumbed the grip of his pistol as he considered the alien’s recommendation. After another moment of deliberation, he nodded. “Go sai, use your words. A bullet can wait to be fired, but never taken back.”

Glancing at his weapon, the red-skinned man flipped the rifle and handed it by the barrel to his overseer. With one final deep breath, Sinestro rounded the corner.

“Greetings,” he said in a firm but calm tone, a sharpness lying just below the surface, “My name is Sinestro.” He removed his hat and ran his other hand over his greasy black hair, “It’s good to see you again, Ganondorf.” He wiped his mustache, which had grown curled and wild over the weeks he had lived in the sand. “I see you’ve made some new friends.”

The gerudo blinked a few times, his muscled body tense. The long red hair that trailed behind him swayed as he turned to face the man, barely recognizing him. “Sinestro…?” he asked, confusion coloring his deep baritone. Bewilderment quickly gave way to his confidence, “I see you’ve chosen to crawl out of whatever hole you dug yourself into.”

“Heh,” Enel scoffed, “another worm come to wriggle at my feet?” Tilting his nose up, he grinned and condescended, “Go on, feel free to grovel to your God.” He lifted his hand high and pointed at his toes with astounding flourish.

Wrinkles formed on Sinestro’s forehead as Ganondorf’s attention turned back to the self-proclaimed deity. “Ah yes, allow me to introduce my, ah, friends.” The olive-skinned behemoth offered a tiny bow to the blonde-haired egoist, “This is Enel. We have ‘worked’ together in the past.”

“Hmm,” the electrokinetic huffed, looking over the alien man before him. His eyes were narrow enough that Sinestro had a difficult time identifying their color, and his naked chest was somehow a perfectly consistent pale shade, despite exposure to the blistering heat and sun. Golden cuffs around his ankles glimmered as he stepped forward with bare feet.

“I am Enel, God of lightning!” he proclaimed loudly, the patterned orange and blue fabric of his dramatically puffed trousers swayed in the wind. He sauntered towards the dirt-caked Sinestro, the korugaran’s flesh and clothing still black from the explosion he suffered not long ago, “And you would do well to remember you place when in my presence.”

The sun glinted off of the circular metal beam that was embedded in the man’s back, the four painted drums that hung upon it softly thumping with his every movement. Casually twirling his long golden staff, Enel finally came to a stop and grinned. His grossly elongated earlobes, each sporting a heavy golden earring, wobbled and shook as he nodded, “I’m glad you understand.”

Blinking slowly, Ganondorf exhaled and turned his hand to the bleach-white mage. “This is Strazio. He and I were introduced during Dante’s Abyss.”

The rage-fueled sorcerer clenched his fists and made eye-contact with Sinestro, “Rockwell. Strazio Rockwell.” He took a few steps back, his scorched clothing rustling in the wind. The singes in his clothing displayed the man’s open wounds, marred, black holes and burn-marks dug into his flesh. His entire body was a devastated landscape of deeply carved scars and pock-marks, a sleeveless shirt and shorts doing little to hide the man’s battered physique. As he turned, a large book could be seen hanging from his belt, a certain unease brought to anyone who might have glanced it. “And this party is starting to get a little crowded for me.”

Sinestro brought his hands up, one open and the other still holding the hat. “Ah, don’t worry,” he said smoothly, an angular grin flashing, “I only want to help diffuse any problems we’re having here.” He swept his hand openly to all the men and pointed to the tavern. “Let us all go sit, we can discuss whatever matters we must while there. I’ll even ensure you all have something good to eat.”

A rolling groan emanated from Enel’s belly, the confrontation slowly fading in the face of his physical needs. “Yes! That sounds like a good tribute. FEED ME!” he demanded.

Strazio’s eyes narrowed, though he offered no immediate response. Ganondorf smiled calmly and pat him on his back, “Come now, it cannot be too great a burden to receive a free meal.”

“Yes,” Sinestro slyly quipped, “you can inform me all about this… abyss you suffered though.”

Laughing, Ganondorf shook his head. “My, you have been gone for a while, haven’t you? How much have you missed while you were wandering the wasteland?” He removed his hand from the mage’s shoulder. “I think we may all have things to discuss, and the street is no place for our private matters.”

The gerudo and the ex-lantern had slipped back into their positions without a word, wearing faces over faces, playing roles within roles. This said nothing concrete of their alliance, only that their manipulations fell together neatly like cogs in a gear.