Skulduggery Pleasant Part 35

My car. It's a 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental.

Describe yourself in 5 words.

Charming. Witty. Lethal. Brilliant. Modest.

3.The lost Art of World Domination With the shadows wrapped around him and the sliver of light falling dramatically over his eyes, the evil sorcerer Scaramouch Van Dreg stood in the dungeon and watched his captive with predatory amus.e.m.e.nt.

The dungeon was dark and damp and dank, and the chains that bound the skeleton detective were big and thick and heavy. They shackled the bones of his wrists to the stone floor, forcing him to kneel.

Scaramouch liked that. The great detective, the living skeleton who had foiled plan after plan, scheme after scheme, was now forced to look up at Scaramouch. Like he had always been meant to. Like everyone had always been meant to.

The detective, his dark blue suit burned and torn and muddy, hadn't said anything for almost an hour. In fact, he hadn't moved for almost an hour. Scaramouch had been standing in the shadows, gloating, for a little more than fifteen minutes, but he wasn't entirely sure that his captive had noticed.

He shifted his weight noisily, but the detective still did not acknowledge his presence.

Scaramouch frowned. There was very little point in going through all this if his efforts weren't rewarded with due and proper attention.

He brought himself up to his full height, which wasn't very high, and sucked in his belly, which was substantial. He gathered his cloak and stepped forward, gazing down at the top of the detective's skull with the pitiless gaze he had practiced for hours.

4."Skulduggery Pleasant," he sneered. "Finally, you are within my grasp."

The detective s.h.i.tted slightly, and muttered something.

Good G.o.d. Was he asleep?

Scaramouch cleared his throat and gave the detective a little kick. The detective jerked awake and looked around for a moment, then looked up with those empty eye sockets.

"Oh," he said, like he had just met a casual acquaintance on the street, "h.e.l.lo." Unsure how to counter this unexpected approach to being a captive, Scaramouch decided to replay the sneer.

"Skulduggery Pleasant," he repeated. "Finally, you are within my grasp."

"It does appear so," Pleasant agreed, nodding. "And in a dungeon, no less. How brilliantly postmodern of you."

"You have interfered in my plans for the last time," Scaramouch continued. "Unfortunately for you, you will not live to regret your mistake."

Pleasant tilted his head curiously. "Scaramouch? Scaramouch Van Dreg? Is that you?"

Scaramouch smiled nastily. "Oh, yes. You have fallen into the clutches of your deadliest enemy."

"What are you doing here?"

Scaramouch's smile faltered. "What?"

"How are you mixed up in all this?"

"How am I . . . ? What do you mean? This is my plot."

"You're plotting to use the Crystal of the Saints to bring the Faceless Ones back into our reality?"

5.Scaramouch frowned. "What? No. What do the Faceless Ones have to do with this? I don't want the Faceless Ones back; I don't even worship them. No, this plot is for me, to gain absolute power."

"Then . . . you're not in league with Rancid Fines or Christophe Nocturnal?"

"I've never even met Rancid Fines," Scaramouch said, "and I hate Christophe Nocturnal."

Pleasant absorbed this information with a nod. "In that case, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

Scaramouch felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All the breath left him, and his shoulders slumped. "You mean, you're not here for me?"

"Dreadfully sorry," Pleasant said.

"But--but you arrived at the hotel. You and your partner, the girl. You were asking all those questions."

"We were looking for Fines and Nocturnal. We didn't even know you were in the country. To be honest with you, and I don't mean to offend you or anything, but I thought you had pa.s.sed away some time ago."

Scaramouch gaped. "I just took a little break . . ."

Pleasant shrugged. "Well, at least now I know. So what are you up to these days?"

"I'm--I have plans," Scaramouch said, dejected.

"The absolute power thing you mentioned?"

Scaramouch nodded.

"And how's that going?"

"It's going okay, I suppose. I mean, you know, everything's on schedule and proceeding apace ..."

"Well, that's good. We all need something to get us up in the mornings, am I right? We all need goals."

6."Yeah." An unwelcome thought seeped into Scaramouch's mind and lingered there. He tried ignoring it, but it flickered and swam, and finally he had to ask: "You don't view me as your deadliest enemy, do you?"

Pleasant hesitated. His skull remained as impa.s.sive as ever, but this hesitation spoke volumes. "I view you as a deadly enemy," he said helpfully.

"How deadly?"

"I don't know . . . relatively?"

"Relatively deadly? That's all? I thought we were archenemies."

"Oh," Pleasant said. "No, I wouldn't call us archenemies. Nefarian Serpine was an archenemy. Mevolent, obviously. A few others."

"But not us?"

"Not really . . ."

"Why? Is it because I'm not powerful enough?"

"No, not exactly."

"Then why? What's so different between me and, say, Serpine?"

"Well," said Pleasant, "Serpine had options. He was adaptable. Remember, the deadliest enemies are not necessarily the strongest, they're the smartest."

"So it's because I'm not smart enough? But I am smart! I am highly intelligent!"

"Okay," Pleasant said in an understanding voice.

"Don't patronize me!" Scaramouch snapped. "I have you as a prisoner, don't I? You fell into my trap without even a hint of suspicion!"

"It was a clever trap."

"And those chains that bind your powers--you think that's easy to do? You think that doesn't require intelligence?"

7."No, no," Pleasant said, "I have to admit, you got me fair and square."

"You're d.a.m.n right I did." Scaramouch sneered. "And you don't even know about my plot yet, do you? You don't even know how intelligent that is."

"Well, like I said, I've been busy."

"Busy with Fines, and with Nocturnal, busy with the threat of the Faceless Ones--but you haven't been busy with the real threat, have you?"

"I suppose not," Pleasant said, and then added, "You mean you, don't you?"

"Of course I mean me! I've been smart enough to fool you all into thinking I was dead. I've been smart enough to work under your radar, to set in motion events that will grant me absolute power, which will lead to my total dominion over this world! Now that, Detective, that is smart!"

"Total dominion?"

"Oh, yes, skeleton. How does it feel to know that an opponent such as I, an adversary you would have cla.s.sified as merely 'relatively deadly,' will soon rule this planet with a will of iron, and a fist of...," he faltered,"... iron."

"Urn ..."

"What?"

"I was just going to say, have you really thought this through?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're talking about ruling the world, right?"

"Yes."

"Not bringing back old G.o.ds, not turning the world into some new version of h.e.l.l, not remaking it as you see fit . . ."

8."Well, no."

"You're just talking about ruling it, then?"

"Yes. With a will of iron and a fist of iron."

"Yes. And again, I'm compelled to ask--have you really thought this through?"

Scaramouch pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was getting a headache. He could feel it coming on. "What do you mean? What is so wrong with planning to rule the world?"

"Well, for a start, think of all the work."

"I'll have minions," Scaramouch said dismissively.

"But they'll still need orders. They'll need you to tell them what to do. You'll be inundated with reports, with doc.u.ments, with briefings. There won't be enough hours in the day to go over them all, let alone make any decisions."

"Then I'll just order that the days be longer," Scaramouch said. "I will decree that a day stops and starts when / decide, not the sun or the moon."

"And how will you cope with warring nations?"

Scaramouch laughed. "When I am ruler, there will be no wars. Everyone will do what I tell them."

"There are billions of people in the world, all with their own viewpoints, all with their own rights. It won't be as simple as telling them to just stop. What about famine?"

"What about it?"

"What will you do about it?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"If famine strikes a country, what will you do?"

Scaramouch smiled evilly. "Maybe I will do nothing. Maybe I will let the country die."

9.10."In which case, you will have an entire country rise against you, because they have nothing left to lose."

"Then I will destroy them."

"And you'll have to deal with the neighboring countries squabbling over the remains."

"Then I'll destroy them--no, I'll order them to . . . they'll do what I tell them, all right?"

"And the media?"

Scaramouch sighed. "What about them?"

"How will you Cope with the media questioning your policies?"

"There will be no questions. This won't be a democracy, it will be a dictatorship."

"There will be always be dissent."

"What did I say? I'll have minions, I told you. They'll take care of any rebels."