dochermes

HAG OF THE SEAS: Goombah Island

4/22-4/23/2002

I.

Just after five on a warm misty afternoon, Bane walked along the streets of Sickle Harbor. Studying maps before arriving here, he had seen how the name must have originated. Protruding from the Northern California coast was a strip of land that curved into a semi-circular shape irresistably reminiscent of a sickle complete with handle. For more than a hundred years, boats had docked here and a small town had grown up, just under the size where it would get its own post office.

The Dire Wolf paused next to a hardware store and took in his surroundings with his inevitable wariness. Being suspicious of everyone in a strange place was so deeply ingrained that he could not have dismissed it with any amount of effort. Just over six feet tall, lean and ominous in his all-black outfit, Jeremy Bane was unsettling to anyone who did not know him. The pale grey eyes under dark feral brows watched the townspeople passing by, and the locals walked a little quicker when they saw him. The people in this town were apparently quite normal in appearance and wardrobe, from the three teenage boys sauntering insolently past to the little old lady trudging along holding a plastic shopping bag filled with food. Every one gave him an worried look as he passed.

Being regarded with uneasiness and even alarm did not trouble him. He was used to it and regarded it as useful. Bane moved down the main street, past an old-fashioned barber shop and stopped on the corner. Sitting next to his feet was a ratty black and white cat with a scrap of ribbon tied around its tail. The animal yawned and stretched and sauntered off.

The next block over was taken up by a trolley car that had been painted bronze and made into a diner. A simple blue neon sign on the roof read HOOLIGAN'S. A piece of cardboard in the long grimy window listed prices of items like hot roast beef sandwiches or clam chowder, with a few notable misspellings... 'Omelit with cheese' in particular caught his eye. The Dire Wolf decided this would be as good a place as any to start asking questions.

Inside were some round tables covered with white cloths, with wooden chairs spaced around them. Along the far wall was a counter lined with red leather stools, and behind that was a grill and oven. A refrigerator stood to one side with Post-It notes stuck all over it. Half hidden beside the refrigerator was a bucket of dirty water with a mop in it. Behind the counter, scrubbing a frying pan in a porcelain sink, was a huge hulking brute in white pants and short-sleeved shirt, with an apron tied over his bulging middle. Neither the apron nor anything else in the diner seemed particularly clean. The bare wooden floor had sawdust strewn over its surface.

There was only one other person in the diner, sitting on a stool at the end of the counter and sighing as if his heart was broken. Bane watched him uncertainly. He was middle-aged, quite obese with a round stomach and an equally round red-tinged nose that matched. The man had a short bristly mustache under that nose, slitted brown eyes that seemed almost shut and a mournful expression. From the way he was dressed, he had possessed considerable funds at some point... he was wearing grey striped trousers, dress shoes, a white shirt with a knitted silk tie and a dark grey suit jacket. A derby perched well back on his head.

But, Bane noticed at once, although the clothes had been expensive and tailored at one point, they were old and threadbare. A button was missing on one jacket sleeve. The shoes were scuffed, one had an instep starting to come loose. It had been a while since that shirt had been pressed or laundered. The soft chin and cheeks had two day's worth of stubble. Evidently, this stranger had come into a long run of bad luck. The Dire Wolf walked past him and dropped down on a stool midway up the counter.

Seeing a customer, the cook wiped his hands vigorously on a rag which he threw across one broad shoulder. "Welcome to Hooligan's, buddy. Whatcha want?"

Ravenous as always because of his enhanced metabolism, Bane felt his stomach rumble. "How about a nice thick hamburger? Fries or onion rings, and a glass of iced tea?" he answered.

"Ready in a blink," Hooligan laughed, mashing a thick wad of raw meat together between his mitts and slapping it down on the sizzling grill. A handful of onion rings from a bucket followed.

"Say, Hooligan, you might as well make that two," said the man in the derby. His voice was mellow and cultured. Bane immediately thought that the man sounded educated.

"Yeah?" snorted Hooligan. "What are you gonna use for money, Cadger?"

The man called Cadger turned pleading big brown eyes on the Dire Wolf. "I assure you, I'm expecting a royalty check in the mail. Tuesday at the latest..."

"No problem," Bane said, surprising himself. "Why not. Give my friend whatever he wants, okay?"

"Oh, and some mustard and pickle chips would be a touch of the divine," added the man. "Thank you so much, you will surely be rewarded by fate."

Leaning over, the cook rumbled, "He's a mooch, mister. Cadger'll try to get the fillings out of your teeth if you don't watch him."

Blissfully munching away on the hamburger, Cadger seemed not to hear. Watching the man eat, Bane found himself slightly amused. He had seen addicts react less happily over getting heroin. He himself dug into his own burger, which was greasy but not that bad. The Dire Wolf pushed his plate of onion rings over within reach and Cadger blithely helped himself.

When the food had vanished, Bane took a final sip of the iced tea and said, "Maybe you guys can give me directions. I've come to Sickle Port for a reason. I'm looking for one of the Three Sisters."

He might as well have said he was holding a live hand grenade. Hooligan froze in place and his face went white. Cadger peered forward, his eyes nearly closing again.

After a long moment, the fat man whispered, "Three Sisters?"

"Well, one of them anyway. The Hag of the Seas. I understand she has been known to be in this area." Bane glanced back and forth. "You two seem a little distressed."

"Out," growled Hooligan, slapping a wide flat hand down on the counter. "Right now, OUT!"

"Sure." The Dire Wolf placed more than enough cash on the counter and unhurriedly stood up. As he left the diner, he found Cadger accompanying him. Bane stood outside on the sidewalk and waited expectantly.

"The Hags of the Seas, the Mountain and the Desert," muttered Cadger. "Names not to be lightly spoken in this parts, Mr..?

"My name is Bane. Jeremy Bane. I've already tangled with agents of the Hag of the Mountains and now I find the Hag of the Seas is the only Sister I could get a lead on right now."

"Mr Bane... I dare say I can tell you are a man used to danger. It shows in your eyes and your voice. Perhaps I can introduce you to a local inhabitant of some renown."

"Yeah, who would that be?"

The fat man toyed nervously with his necktie, adjusted his derby and looked around him before answering. "Jake the Peg, the greatest enemy the Hag of the Seas ever had."

( the rest of the story )