Big Apple, 3PM

[Jim Raynor]

They all slouched on the ground, weak and weary. Ditto walked in measured steps, back and forward, in front of his new gang. Dried blood flaked off Tattoo Parlour's lip as he scratched at it, thin intense eyes following the Pokemon's gait. Metal Face clutched a dirty strip of cloth wrapped tightly around his wrist stained red. He looked at his wound, his face a wall of metal, then rose his eyebrows to stare at Ditto. It was like two eyeballs staring out of a pile of empty cans. Fatty sat with a sunken expression, occasionally probing his purpled nose with a finger and grimacing. Broomhead, sporting a fat lip, scrunched up his face and stared with great focus at an apparently fascinating section of the concrete floor. Basket Case traipsed alone at the far end of the warehouse on his haunches and fists like a gorilla, fluttering aimlessly but energetically around. Ditto allowed it. It seemed wiser to let the craziness out then to rein it in. At least for the moment.

Machoke Man glared at Ditto beneath heavy, sloping brows, but it wasn't only animosity that he sensed, unlike Tattoo Parlour. There was a measuring, an assessment, as if he couldn't believe that Ditto overcame his gang. He looked at Ditto like an enigma he wanted to solve, but had no idea where to start.

Ditto was a little worse for wear after the battle, but he would survive. He had taken the only clean bandages in the warehouse and coiled them tightly about his stab wound on his forearm and bullet wound on his shoulder, but only once the foreign bit of metal had been pried out with the same dagger responsible for his first injury.

Ditto held the pistol lightly and spun it around his index finger by the trigger guard. He snatched the grip and stopped in the middle of his injured cronies.

"Now are we all properly settled?" Ditto asked, condescension dripping in his tone. Tattoo Parlour's face wrinkled further, but no one answered. "Good. It is unfortunate that I had to inflict the injuries I did to my new employees, but you all gave me little choice."

It was lucky, Ditto decided to omit, that he didn't have full access to his transformations, or there would have been a high chance there would be no employees left at all.

"But in the end, you've all seen that I am capable of dominating each and every one of you, and this isn't even my full strength. So by virtue of 'might makes right,' I am now your boss. And I intend to turn this pathetic, directionless gang of delinquents and morons into a respectable and profitable criminal organisation. It won't be fast - " Ditto sighed, " - no, that much I can tell. But it is possible, and it will happen. So ... any questions?"

Metal Face's studs clinked lightly as his lips worked. "What are you gonna do with us, exactly?"

"First, I'll see what it is exactly the Skullbang gang does. And by the way, that is a terrible name and I will be changing it momentarily. My assumption, based on the information I've gathered so far, is that you are all a bunch of idiots and psychopaths scraping enough to live day to day, with no marketable skills or talents other than blind violence, tactless stealing and macho posturing. But that's fine. You'll all be like putty in a master's hands. I'll be assessing your strengths, pegging you for your new roles in my organisation, and then we'll begin scoping out this Tier 5. Information is power, of course." Ditto kept a stern face, but dammit he loved talking down to inferiors.

Fatty raised a hand. "Why?"

Ditto folded his arms, pistol poking out beneath his armpit. "Why what?"

Fatty looked around, face blank. "Why do you want us? Why do you want do to this?"

"Yeah," Broomhead chimed in . "You just looked like some stupid suit, walking around a neighbourhood you didn't belong in. You know, more money than sense. Like an idiot. A nobody." The tiniest of smirks etched into the sides of his lips.

Infuriating.

Ditto's eyes rounded and hardened and flicked to the mohawked thug with a mechanical motion. He unfolded his arms, aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. A chunk of concrete burst into the air, a thin cloud of powder sifting over the suddenly cowering Broomhead. Ditto strode over, knelt down and thrust the barrel of the gun into Broomhead's forehead, much like the criminal had done to him on the streets of Tier 4.

"Let's get one thing clear," Ditto said, his voice cold. "I will not tolerate disrespect. I will not tolerate being talked down to. If you want to repeat words with a similar sentiment in the future, I highly recommend doing it out of my earshot!"

Broomhead's face twitched, barely holding onto his composure. He was a coward, an idiot. Hell, Ditto trusted Basket Case more than this weasely, self absorbed clown. His finger curled about the trigger, and he briefly wondered if Broomhead's life would come to a screeching end because of a twitchy digit.

Ditto stood up, still aiming the pistol at the mohawked criminal's head, but ultimately dropped his arm. He walked back to the front of his employees. The silence in the warehouse was penetrating.

"Now as I was saying," Ditto said, the edge on his voice absent, "the reason I want this is because I'm not some stupid suit who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hopefully our little encounter taught you that. As you say, I'm a Prime." Ditto still didn't know what that meant, but revealing weakness before subordinates was always a bad idea. He'd find out eventually. "But I want more. I have designs on this world. I want to rule this Coruscant. I want to command an army so vast and powerful that no one can stop me. But like in business, it's always easier to steal than build from scratch. So consider yourself lucky to be the very first members of my thriving enterprise."

"You want to dethrone Palpatine?" Metal Face said.

"Yes," Ditto said, blissfully unaware who Palpatine was.

"But this is nothing," Machoke Man said, wise enough to keep a level tone. "You've got a handful of criminals and a big shed."

"Aha, but it's more than I had this morning," Ditto said. "I didn't have to find a building suitable enough for my beginnings; it was brought to me. I didn't have to scout out my initial employees; they presented themselves, albeit begrudgingly, but I have them. You're right though. It isn't much. But creating the foundation is often the hardest part. And this foundation will be rock solid."

"What makes you think you can trust us?" Tattoo Parlour said abruptly. "Why shouldn't we just turn on you in our sleep?"

Ditto laughed, his voice booming in the empty warehouse. "That's quite a fanciful imagination you have there, Tattoo Parlour."

"Skaggs."

"What?"

Tattoo Parlour's face scrunched up. "My name is Skaggs."

Ditto's frown deepened. "Of course. Skaggs. Well let me assure you, Skaggs, that if you undertake such a foolhardy course of action, you'll regret it."

Skaggs scoffed. "What, you'll kill me in your sleep, will you? Might be hard if I thrust a knife into your throat before you're even awake."

"First off," Ditto said, "you're assuming you'll be able to kill me. You won't. Secondly, if you attempt, you will fail. And when you fail, I will kill you. But hey, feel free to throw your life away. If your decisions are anything like your taste in tattoos, I'm guessing we'll be hauling your body into the river very soon."

Skaggs growled like a dog and lunged forward, but Machoke Man grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head.

"Listen to your old boss." Ditto shook his head.

"What is your opinion on hats?!" Basket Case screamed from the other side of the warehouse.

Ditto smiled. "They're great. Wear as many as you want."

Basket Case thought silently for a moment. "I like him!"

"What's your name?" Machoke Man said.

Ditto gave the ex-leader a respectful glance. "Ditto."

"Oh this is bullshit!" Broomhead shouted, jumping to his feet. "Why are we all bowing to this dickhead? We're all stronger than he is, let's just rush him!"

"Don't be stupid," Machoke Man said. "You'll get yourself killed."

"What's wrong, Diesel?" Broomhead said, wide eyed and slack jawed. "Scared? You're a piss poor leader, always were! Why the fuck did I join your limp dicked operation in the first place?!"

"Because Spook Eye was gonna kill you, cockhead!" Skaggs yelled. "Now sit the fuck down and do what Diesel says!"

"But we're not doing what Diesel says, are we?" Broomhead countered. "We're doing what that fuckwit wants us to do! What was his stupid name? Ditto?!" Broomhead laughed mockingly. "Are we gonna just let him run the show now? He just strolls in here and takes over?"

"Roll with the punches," Metal Face said quietly.

"Fuck that!" Broomhead yelled, and rushed towards Ditto. He screamed and cocked a fist, a fiery hatred alight in his eyes.

Ditto took out the pistol and fired.

Broomhead collapsed, yelling and clutching his thigh.

"You're fast proving yourself expendable," Ditto said over the screaming. "You're lucky I still need you for the time being, or that bullet would've been for your head."

Ditto turned his attention to the remainder of the gang. "Let's get to know each other, shall we?" He pointed at Machoke Man. "Diesel, is it? Let's hear about the Skullbangers from its last leader who ever so graciously resigned."

"So ... you ain't gonna kill us?" Diesel asked.

"If I wanted any of you dead, you would be by now."

"And you really wanna help us?"

Ditto snickered. "It's not quite altruistic, but you will definitely benefit from my leadership, if that's what you're hinting at."

Diesel cleared his throat and spat a wad of phlegm on the concrete. "It's like you said. I'm Diesel, and this is my gang." He pointed to Tattoo Parlour. "That's Skaggs, and the guy with all the piercings is Shingles. Vinny's the big guy with the moustache, and Ricky's the one who ain't quite right in the head. Tor is the latest member of the gang, although he's still in on probation."

Ditto nodded. He committed the names to memory. It didn't mean he would always use them, but he would remember them.

Diesel continued. "And ... yeah. We just do what's gotta be done. We're looking for our big break to get rich, but Spook Eye's gang's the biggest on this tier. It took us a long time to crawl outta Tier 6 and we ain't going back 'cause of him. But he's putting the pressure on us more and more every day. It's getting harder, you know? I was thinking we'd either end up joining him and losing any chance for our big break, or he'd kill us. But we're tough. We've been hanging in there."

The look in Diesel's eyes told Ditto that they were 'hanging in there' by the skin of their teeth.

"I managed to convince Tor to join us, which was easy 'cause he fucked over Spook Eye somehow. Spooks isn't exactly the forgiving type, you know? I thought having someone who worked for Spook Eye on our side would give us an advantage, you know? Give us some dirt on that rat bastard."

Ditto looked at Broomhead, fingers wet and red, as Metal Face - no, Shingles - blotted at the wound with a dirty rag, a spool of stained bandage nearby. "And did Tor help at all? Did he give you anything?"

Diesel's eyes moved to Tor. "I thought he did, but now I'm not so sure."

"I heard Tat - uh, Skaggs and Tor talking earlier about some job he was supposed to do. You yourself seemed surprised that he was back so early. I heard that the clones were sent in. Mind illuminating me?"

"I don't like this, boss," Skaggs said. "You shouldn't be-"

"Shut the fuck up," Diesel countered. "Don't tell me what to do." He turned his attention back to Ditto. "Yeah. Tor had good word that Spook Eye was gonna rig one of the F-Zero races on Tier 4. He's a big fan, got his own car and driver in the races and everything. Apparently turns a bit of coin from them. And the easiest way to win is to rig it, right? So Spooks was gonna attach an explosive of some sort to his rival's car, have it detonate during the race. Supposed to be some high quality shit, no forensics team would even know anything went wrong, Meant to make it look like a malfunction in the anti-gravity regulator. Then once his main competitor's out of the way, he wins race after race and hauls in the dough."

"Anti-gravity regulator, huh?" Ditto remarked. "Sounds like you know a thing or two about these F-Zero cars."

"Yeah, done a bit of work on 'em in the past," Diesel said. "Don't get a name like Diesel for fucking around in an office, do ya?"

"Guess not." Ditto motioned with his pistol. "Continue."

"Well, Tor was supposed to stop the bomb from going off. He knew what it looked like, he said, and he knew who Spooks's rival was, so all he had to do was find the hovercar, find the bomb on it, and bring it back. Plus he heard whisperings that Spook Eye's winnings from the last race were in a safe in the same hanger. We'd get a nice piece of tech and some cash."

Ditto furrowed his brow. "He was going to bring back a live bomb into your warehouse? Does he even know how to disarm it?"

"Hey," Tor said through gritted teeth. "It ain't rocket science. Green button for on, red button for off. I might be dumb but I ain't that fucking dumb."

Ditto pieced the puzzle together in his head. The stormtroopers rushed down from Tier 1 to attend to something urgent, something that required a greater armed presence than what was already available on Tier 4. An explosion might do that. But Ditto had a feeling something bigger would merit the attention the incident received.

"So what happened?" Ditto directed the question to Tor. "I know some of those guards came all the way down from Tier 1 to check out a problem on Tier 4. And I have a niggling suspicion you had something to do with it."

"Yeah, yeah, it was me," Tor said, wincing as Shingles worked at the bullet in his leg. "I snuck into the bay and found the bomb where it was supposed to be. But I wanted to make sure Spooks wouldn't race either. I wanted to get back at that prick. So I was gonna steal his F-Zero racer."

"You idiot," Skaggs said. "You don't even know how to drive stick. How would you drive a hovercar?"

"Just let me finish," Tor said with some restraint. "Anyway, Spook Eye's racer was right next door to his rival's, so I found the bomb and took it off. Only thing is, even though I turned off the damn thing, it had some pressure sensor bullshit or something, because it started beeping as soon as I grabbed it. So I ran for my life into Spooks's hanger and threw the damn thing in there. Then I bolted outta there. I was a good way out from the track when the explosion went off, but holy fuck, it was way bigger than I was expecting. Maybe the bomb didn't just target the anti-hover majigger?"

"So that explains why you came back with no fucking money," Skaggs said.

"Could've been more explosive material in Spook Eye's hanger?" Fatty ventured.

Tor shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I still feel like there's a piece of the jigsaw missing," Ditto said. "Tier 1 is defined by its opulence and constant armed enforcement. Why would they dispatch troops from the very bastion of Coruscant to Tier 4? What about the other tiers? Why not them? And why did they need more troops than Tier 4 already has to deal with an explosion?"

Diesel nodded. "You're right. Not the first time something blew up there. Never had clones from Tier 1 run down there. Something's off."

"Then we need more information. We need to find out exactly what went down at the track. How do we do that?"

Fatty spoke up. "There's a chick in Tier 5. Knows about anything worth knowing. Don't know how she does it, but she prides herself in it."

"Shut up," Skaggs said softly.

"Would she know about this?" Ditto asked.

Fatty scoffed. "If she doesn't, she'd be losing her touch."

"Who is she?"

"No one knows," Shingles said. "Goes by the name of Enigma."

Ditto rolled his eyes. Great. A mysterious information broker with a flair for stupid names. "So how do we talk to this Engima?"

"She only talks to me," Skaggs said.

"What? Why?"

"Don't ask," Fatty said, resignation in his voice. "Just ... don't ask."

Skaggs didn't look like he was about to elaborate.

"It matters little," Ditto said. "How do we find her?"

"Take a guess," Shingles said, finishing the last tight wrap of the bandage on Tor's thigh.

Ditto looked at Skaggs. "Right. Well then, we've no time to waste. Let's go see this Enigma."

"No," Tattoo Parlour said.

Ditto grinned smugly. "Well, didn't we wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"I'm not showing you," the bald man repeated. "I'm not your fucking dog. I won't listen to you."

Ditto shrugged. "I could just as easily kill you."

"And then you wouldn't be able to find Engima, would you?" Skaggs replied.

"What does it matter? If you won't show me alive, you won't show me dead, either. Besides -" A white light consumed Ditto, and when it faded, a second Skaggs stood in his place. "- I have a feeling she might talk to me, innit?"

Skaggs's eyes grew wide. "You motherfucker! Don't you dare talk to Enigma!"

Ditto reverted back to his Giovanni form. "Then let's come to an agreement. You take me to Engima, and I won't find her as you and do ... something you would regret. You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you? Because it certainly wouldn't be on mine."

"You wouldn't even know where to find her!" Skaggs fired back.

Ditto shook his head. "Come on, Skaggs. You don't think I couldn't find a way to lure her out disguised as you? There's obviously some important connection between you two. And if I do say myself, I am a terrific actor."

Skaggs breathed heavily. He looked at Diesel, who inclined his head slightly. Through bared teeth, he said, " ... fine. I'll ... I'll set up a meeting." He got up, rubbed at the dried blood on his lip furiously and left without another word.

"Get some rest," Ditto said to the remainder of the gang. "We'll talk tomorrow. Oh, and you're no longer known as the Skullbang gang anymore. From this moment on ... you are Team Rocket."