Lion Little

Anetta growled softly, gripping the edge of the table as she leaned forward, trying to maintain a semblance of control.

The key to success was finally in her hands. But it turned out, the key itself was locked.

She stared at the box, shaped somewhat like a book and not much bigger. Inside were all of the secrets of the Shark and his Tank, all of their plots and schemes. She had finally managed to steal it, and now she couldn’t open it. As far as her team could determine, only the Shark himself could.

The other Association Heads gathered around the table, some sitting, others standing, several lounging. Medeira, the Cat, stared with a half-lidded gaze as if nearly asleep, but Anetta knew better. If danger came, the Cat would be up with claws ready before the rest of them had time to blink.

Anetta made her decision. “How many eyes can we have out within the hour?” she asked.

The Heads glanced around uncertainly.

“I can get a good team mobilized,” Killian said, perched contently on the edge of his seat. “They are always out and about. You can count on fifty from me.”

Anetta nodded. Killian’s Dogs would be helpful. The way people attracted to them made conversation, and digging for information, easy. But she would need more than friendly faces and smooth talking.

“I can offer up ten of my own Foxes,” Anetta said. “They are clever and quick witted, but they are no soldiers if it comes to a fight. Medeira?”

The Cat yawned widely. Of all the Heads, Medeira acted most like her associated animal, although none of their powers were technically connected to the animals at all. Anetta’s power came from the Association ‘sly as a fox’, and Medeira’s was ‘scaredy-cat’. The powers had less to do with the animals themselves and more to do with metaphorical connections society created.

“Harvan’s going to love this,” Medeira said drolly.

***

Harvan hated infiltrations. He always got sent in first, usually as a decoy or distraction. He had already died twice, and come close three more times. Sure, he was a Cat, but dying still hurt like Hades. Besides, he always woke up feeling like someone had stuffed cotton balls in his mouth and ears.

But the Fox didn’t care about his feelings, only that the plan was clever and efficient. Which meant risking the ones who had lives to spare. Harvan, unfortunately, had seven. Not for the first time, he wished he was a type-two Cat, a ‘Scaredy-Cat’, rather than a Nine Life. Having a sixth sense for danger would be handy and he wouldn’t have to put his neck on the chopping block.

Regardless, he followed Silvan, the Alligator, and Viri, the Clam, as they made their way through the darkening slums of Vilianton. His stomach churned. Why did they have to look here? Surely they could find what they were looking for somewhere more…reputable. Like a wayside pub for traveling slavers and thieves.

A few scrawny children burst out of a side alley. The one in front was a head shorter than the ones behind, yet he appeared to be calling out taunts. He was holding something in his hand, the others shouting and giving chase.

“Urchins,” Viri muttered, mouth pulling to a thin line.

Silvan swatted his arm. “Be nice. They can’t help being poor,” she snapped.

Viri, true to his Association, clammed up and didn’t respond.

“He has a point,” Harvan muttered. “Why are we here? All we are likely to find are urchins and…” He let the sentence trail off, eyes darting from side to side, expecting a masked killer to jump out with a knife at any moment.

Silvan rolled her eyes. “Do you not pay attention at all? The Fox says that anyone manifesting Associations in upper society would immediately receive public attention. She has heard rumors of Cats, Dogs, Hippos, Birds, and even a Wolf, but those won’t work for her plan.”

Viri and Harvan both grumbled, but followed Silvan as she strode forward. She seemed to be following the urchins. When they turned the corner, Harvan froze, blinking in confusion.

The little boy sat on the ground, happily eating what looked like a smashed roll. His four pursuers sat in a semicircle and watched him, obviously hungry but with no apparent intention of attacking.

“Harvan,” Silvan whispered. “Your turn.”

Harvan sighed, but stepped forward. He strode towards the group of children, forcing himself not to cower or hide in the shadows. He was the decoy. If there was danger, he was supposed to draw it out.

He reached the children without incident. The smallest child, who now looked like he couldn’t be older than ten, looked up at him with a pleasant expression. He smiled around a mouthful of food.

“’Ave a seat, good sa’,” he said, voice thickly accented.

Harvan sat down warily.

“Now, don’cha be thinkin’ about hurtin’ none o’ ma frien’s heya,” the child said, wagging a finger at Harvan.

“Weren’t they just to rob you?” Harvan asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

The child laughed. “In th’past, in th’past. We good frien’s now.”

Harvan cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t friends usually share with each other?”

The boy looked genuinely confused at that. “Share?” He pronounced it ‘shay-uh’. He shook his head then. “If ya don’ kill eachotha, ya frien’s. These boys, I says stop, and they stop. So we frien’s.”

Harvan nodded slowly. “Does that happen often? People doing what you say?”

“Yeah, shu,” the boy shrugged. He held up the remnants of his smashed roll. “I say, gimme dat, and cook say, shu.” He popped the bite into his mouth. Harvan studied the child for a few long moments. This could not be happening.

He sighed and stood. “Guys,” he called out. “I think…” He grimaced, forcing out the words. “I found who we are looking for.”

***

Anetta watched the child, he called himself Reese, lick his fingers clean studiously. He had half of the Association Heads bending to his whims, and he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

“Lemme git this straight,” the boy finally said. “Ya need meh to give this heya li’l box ta mistah Shark, and then tell ‘im to open it?”

Anetta nodded, keeping her expression neutral.

“And that’ll let ya take ‘im down?”

“Absolutely,” Anetta said. “It contains all of his secrets. Once he opens it, we can storm in and take it before he can lock it back up.”

“Why don’ ya jus’ ask ‘im?” the boy drawled, spinning distractingly around in his swiveling chair.

“That is not my Association.”

The boy paused in his swiveling, head cocking. “Ya wha?”

She grimaced. She wasn’t very good with children. “Association. It’s…like a gift. A power. Mine is cleverness, associated with foxes. Others have the ability to disappear briefly, from the alligator. Well, from the phrase, ‘see you later, alligator’…” She grimaced. This was not going well.

But the boy’s eyes were shining and he seemed to actually be listening now.

“Really?” he asked. “Wha else can ya do?”

“Some people have nine lives, like a cat, and some ‘clam up’, remaining silent no matter what torture they endure…” She paused. Perhaps that wasn’t the thing to be telling a nine year old. “But that’s not important,” she continued quickly. “What’s important is you. You, Reese, are a Lion.”

He looked impressed, but he no doubt had no idea what it meant.

“This makes you very special. We haven’t found a Lion in twenty years, and the last one died five years ago. They are very rare.”

His eyes were still wide, waiting for more. She smiled.

“You are a King of the Jungle. When you give Commands, people most obey.”

He frowned then. “Huh?” He sounded oddly disappointed.

He's probably lived with this gift his whole life, Anetta realized. It just seems normal.

She didn’t have time to explain it all right now. “How about this,” she said. “I promise you as much food as you want if you help us take down the Shark.”

Reese eyed the box. “With the li’l brown box?” he clarified. She had wrapped it in brown paper to obscure it from immediate recognition by any member of Shark Tank.

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “Shu, why not?”

***

Anetta watched the screens as the elite team followed Reese, keeping cameras trained on him at all times. She spoke directions into his earpiece, and he usually listened.

He reached the Shark’s business front, which outwardly operated as an insurance company. The guards posted at the door moved to stop Reese, and he immediately started talking to them.

Soon, he had them getting him juice and chocolate, as well as telling him embarrassing stories about themselves.

Anetta rubbed her temples and groaned. This was going to take a while.

***

Johnson watched the baby shark swim beneath the glass at his feet. It was stalking its prey, a large clownfish. The chase was just getting exciting when Johnson’s door slid open. He looked up sharply, frowning.

“I did not give permission-” He cut off as a child sauntered in, escorted by two security guards. The child was slurping something out of a plastic cup in one hand, a package wrapped in brown paper tucked under the other arm.

“Many thanks, frien’s,” the boy said. The guards nodded to him and left, not even looking at Johnson.

“What in Damnation-”

“Open this box fo’ me,” the boy said. Johnson strode forward to the boy indignantly and snatched the package away.

“What are you doing here? Why did my guards let you in?” he demanded, fingers tearing at the wrapping.

“I came ta see ya,” the boy replied, smiling.

“I should have you thrown out, you little rat,” he hissed, fiddling with the package.

“Naw, ya shou’n’t do tha’,” the boy replied. Johnson glared.

Then he heard a soft click. He blinked once, then looked down at the box in his hands. What the-

His heart nearly froze, eyes going wide. He moved to snap the box closed, to hide its contents.

A prick of pain stung his neck, and his vision grew blurry. The box slipped from numb hands. He vaguely saw a tall figure step out from the watery edges of his vision to catch it.

Darkness started to sink in. A whispering voice brushed the edges of his consciousness.

“I can’t kill you. You have too many connections, too many friends. I have to discredit you first. Thank you for being so accommodating.”

He slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Reese stuffed another one of the fluffy white things filled with gooey red stuff and covered with sticky white stuff into his mouth. It was like eating a cloud crafted by heaven.

That weird Fox lady was watching him again. He would tell her to stop and she would go away, but then she would just come back a few minutes later. It was annoying.

Then again, she had kept her word to feed him. He licked his fingers.

People that walked by him whispered quietly, calling him Lion and powerful. That was all very silly of course. Reese’s mom had called him ‘imp’ and ‘devil’, and she knew the way of things.

He shrugged, shaking his head.

***

Anetta watched Reese with curiosity and not a little awe. He Commanded with such ease and force that you could not tell you were being controlled by anything other than your own will. If trained up correctly, he could be a great resource for the world, an influence for good beyond comprehension.

But he also posed an immense danger, one she wasn’t sure she could control. She watched the child, so innocent and naïve, with the potential to become savior or monster.