Chapter 9

Monty's mansion seems so barren of people that Pintear feels as though a portcullis should fall behind the vehicle like some kind of cheap horror movie trap. Pintear parks the limo in the turn-about in front of the mansion and lets Falcon out of the back seat. Pintear begins to wonder as to why there are no servants walking about the front, tending to the flowers and grass, moving some large expensive piece of furniture, or sweeping the grounds as they normally tend to do-- bringing an air of uneasiness about the area.
Pintear holds Falcon's hand, with a bit of nervousness in his touch, as they walk up to the large front doors of the mansion. Knocking on the door, Pintear listens for some sign of human or, in Falcon's case, inhuman sounds of scuttling or pacing sounds of steps. Pintear knocks again and still no sign of people. Annoyed with the lack of population, he opens the doors carefully. They creak and moan as if in protest to being moved.
“Hello?”, he cautiously questions the emptiness, “Monty? Are you home?” As he looks for some resemblance of human life in the long, dark corridor a small red paper arrow on the floor catches his eye; it points farther into the labyrinth of endless halls and rooms. Having no other choice in the matter, Pintear follows the arrow, dragging Falcon along. Farther down the hall, the arrow leads them to another arrow on the wall pointing to another hallway to the left, which is soon followed by the confused couple.
With the halls and rooms they pass still devoid of people, or anything for that matter, Pintear struts on keeping his focus on his current task. Even focused, the lack of commotion, aside from the creaks and pops of a settling home, is begging to really rattle and unnerve Pintear, causing his blood to rush and his mind play small tricks on his eyes. They finally arrive to the middle of the shudder-some corridor to see the final arrow now pointing to a set closed doors. Ominously, the doors tower over Pintear and his mate sending a chill over Pintear.
Swallowing the backing up saliva in his mouth, he gingerly opens the door.
“Go back,” he swears he hears the doors say in their creaky voice.
Darkness is gently swept away by the dim light that trickles in behind Pintear leaving his cloned silhouette on the ground before him. It is cool and stagnant, no sounds or movement emit from the long eating hall-- is now what Pintear believes it to be. His eyes are now adjusting to the caliginous scenery. As he looks about, humanoid silhouettes appear in the seats in front of the growing-in-length table centered in the room. The shadows are turned to him staring right through him as if he is a glass pane. Their stares, of immeasurable numbers, burn and bore into him like hot pokers taken right from a fireplace. Pintear feels as if he is frozen in time itself and left a the mercy of these beings that sit as if to feast upon the wandering stranger that moseyed into their lair.
Click! Searing bright light floods and blinds the eyes of the defenseless man standing before the crowd of shadows which have now taken blurry forms. A roar in unison bellows from the formless creatures, small explosions erupt from all about the room which leave tangible webs, now engulfing him. The cacophonous ejaculation bore too much for the poor frightened man. Everything became even more blurry than before, his knees give way to his weight, and he falls. A whirl of air rushing towards him and the feeling of weightlessness is the last thing he experiences before total darkness closes out all his senses.
Consciousness and hazy sight returns to the fallen man. A cool, unsteady breeze touches his chest. Focusing his eyes more, he sees the familiar furry face of Falcon cradling him and wafting cool air on his bare chest and neck with a folding fan, Monty standing over Falcon's shoulder, and a growing plethora of Monty's servants and possibly friends crowding around the scene. Embarrassed by his partial nudity in front of so many people, forgetting the previous attack of the shadows, fumbles about to find his jacket to cover himself.
Twitching his whiskers about and jiggling his pink nose, as if holding back tears, Falcon sighs with intense relief and looks into Pintear's eyes to say, “You gave us quite the scare there, hon.”
“What happened? Why am I half naked?” asked Pintear, nervously.
“That is what we wished to know. Soon as the lights flicked on and everyone yelled, 'Surprise!' you dropped like a bag of hammers and I had to cool you off,” stated Falcon, flicking his wrist to close the folding fan.
“We didn't wish to scare you to death. We just thought we would cheer you up,” interjected Monty.
Confused and feeling slightly embarrassed, Pintear rights himself and dresses himself. Holding to Falcon for support, he stands up and walks to the nearest chair at the long table. Bowing his head, he recollects his thoughts and bitter memories of just before him fainting. Shadows with burning eyes dance on the fringe of his thoughts allowing him to fully remember the event.
Looking up to Falcon and Monty, who were both standing in anticipation, says, “I guess the emptiness of this large manor just gave me the willies and let my mind play games with me. I'm sorry that I'm such a burden.”
“You are no burden at all,” announces Falcon and Monty, in unison.
Pintear smiles at them both, then says, “You guys are just too kind. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise.”
“You didn't ruin the surprise, my good sir. You added to the excitement and turned the tables on us and gave us the scare,” replies Monty.
“Let's just put this behind us and not fret about it. You must be hungry now. Why don't we have a bite to eat, huh?” offered Falcon in a consoling tone.
“I'm not hungry.” Pintear's stomach then growled loudly, miffed from the rejection of good food. “I guess I'm hungry after all,” says Pintear, blushing.
A festive mood sneaks around the dining hall infecting everyone it passes by, soon the whole room is filled with laughter and pleasant chats about past experiences and how the old days are better than the current times. Pintear became caught up in the fun as well, forgetting the fall of fright.
Monty spared no expense in the quality and preparation of the food that is set out. A few ice sculptures are centered down a line on the table where punch, that is probably made from rare, exotic fruits, is cooled by them, the main dishes are prime cuts of meat of choice of any animal, and for dessert is the best German chocolate cake Pintear has ever tasted. The room was even decorated in Pintear's honor. A banner which reads, “Cheer up, Pintear!” waves gently above the table and cloth streamers hang from chandelier to chandelier.
When Pintear finishes his meal, he asks Monty about him returning to work for him. Monty just says, “Let us wait until everyone is finished and then we will discuss this farther.” Without objection, Pintear does as requested and waits until the last person finishes and leaves the table. When the last person leaves, Monty stands and beckons Falcon and Pintear to follow him into the hall. The palanquin rests just outside of the entryway of the door where Monty climbs into still waving his hand “follow”. The couple enter the palanquin and find themselves a seat just in time before it began to move.
“Falcon,” says Monty with a stern face, “I dug around a bit more and I have a little more information on what caused that spontaneous fire.”
Falcon and Pintear nod. “Do tell,” says Falcon.
Monty continues, looking at Pintear, “From what we have learned, we are to believe that this might have been arson, the handiwork of Kelmar. And the goons that attacked Pintear and I before might be related in the matter. If this is the case, then continuing your training should be of the highest prerogative for your safety. I will need as much help as I can get.”
“Would Kelmar go to such extremes?” asks Falcon.
“Power corrupts, my good sir. He has most likely lost all of his humanity by now. It would not surprise me.”
“Why is trying to do this in such a roundabout way? Why doesn't he just storm your mansion?” asks Pintear.
“You should know. Had I not put the arrows down earlier you would be lost here for a long time,” chuckles Monty, “Not to mention my tight security I have. I digress, will you help me, Mr. Pintear?”
Fearful that he might lose one of his best companions to a firefight by this Kelmar guy, Pintear agrees.
“Good! Falcon will accompany me with your training. I did not mean to be rude last time. To show you that I meant no harm by it I will spar with Falcon and show you I train no one differently.”
Coincidentally, the palanquin ceased its pace and set down to the ground as Monty finished his sentence. Monty steps out of the palanquin, brushing aside the veil overhanging the arc, and slides the door to the dojo open, standing there to wait for his guests to pursue. Pintear is the next to leave the enclosure, followed by Falcon, and enters the dojo.
Once everyone is inside, Monty points at Falcon then the dressing room and tells Pintear to have a seat where he stands. Immediately responding to the command, Falcon walks into the dressing room and in no less than thirty seconds walks out fully dresses in a white gi with a black belt around his waist, marked with similar bands around it as Monty's belt previously, and tail poking out of the back of the trousers. Monty stands in the center of the room still dressed in his three piece suit. He throws his hat to the corner of the room and removes his suit to, once again, reveal a gi lying beneath it, belt and all.
Without words, Falcon and Monty bow to one another and assume a fighting stance. Monty motions for Falcon to come at him. Falcon flies at him with a flurry of ferocious acrobatic kicks and punches which Monty dodges and counters, neither one landing a hit on each other. Monty finally grabs one of Falcon's kicks and locks it.
“Remember, Falcon, you do not have to hold back with me,” says Monty in a stern, mentor-like voice and releases him.
Falcon steps back and shrugs, wiping the sweat from his hairy brow. Loosening his stance and dropping his arms, Falcon becomes hazy like an oscillating plucked string of a guitar. Pintear cannot believe his eyes as Falcon, moving like a bolt of lightening, disappears and reappears behind Monty about three feet above him, in mid-kick. In the air, Falcon twists to finish his aerial sneak attack, swinging his leg at an unnatural speed. Falcon tried to make contact with the back of Monty's head only to be blocked by Monty's, now raised, arm. A deafening thunderous sound booms when Falcon collided with Monty, echoing about the dojo. Paused in midair, Falcon untwists and lands on the ground, tail flicking wildly as he pants.
“Too predicable, my friend,” chuckles Monty, rubbing his arm.
“We are sparring, dear comrade, not trying to kill one another,” responds Falcon.
Absolutely stunned by the impossible performance, Pintear sits statuesque on the ground, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.
Noticing Pintear's eminent catatonic shock, he shouts, to break the awe, “You're next, Mr. Chauffeur! Go don your gi!”
Shock shattered by the commanding bellow, Pintear bolts upright, standing at attention. A playback of the demand cycles in his head once more and compels him to rush to the dressing room to change. He walks out after swapping clothing and rushes to Falcon to ask if what he saw was real.
“I told you you'd see,” is all that Falcon says.
Annoyed with the enigmatic remark, he turns to Monty in question of his next course of action. Monty positions Pintear in a fighting stance and begins to calmly explain the basics of a punch, kick, and several other strikes. Happy with the new style of teaching, Pintear picks up the basics faster than Monty expected. Because Pintear is learning so fast, Monty decides it's time for his first sparring lessons versus just running at him blindly.
Pintear bows and takes a strong stance, waiting for Monty's signal to commence. Monty waves. Charging in, Pintear tries to emulate what Falcon had done before when he first sparred with Monty. Strike for strike matches the same as before, neither one landing a blow. Just before the two minute mark is about to be reached, Pintear lands a strong kick on Monty's right hip. Monty calls off the match, pleased.
“You landed a wonderful kick, but I noticed you have not used any grabs. Especially with your pompadour,” states Monty.
“I noticed the same. He should use something like that to his advantage,” agrees Falcon.
Surprised that Falcon knew of his phalangic hair, Pintear asks, “How did you know about them? I've never told you!”
“Love, I have brushed your hair, caressed it too. Not to mention when you feel an extreme emotion, like now, your pompadour tends to move subconsciously,” states Falcon, dryly.
Never realizing this information, Pintear looks up and sees his hair bobbing up and down like a cork in a slow brook. Embarrassed by his abrupt outburst, he apologizes.
“No problem,” Falcon and Monty say in unison.
Looking at his watch, Monty says, “Well that is a lesson for another day. It's later than I thought. You did very well today, better than I hoped! But, before you go I have a small gift.”
Monty turns around to walk to a shelf on the wall where he removes something and brings it back to Pintear. In his hand, he holds a small piece of metal that looks like a knife with a crescent ring located at the end of the handle and close the the bottom of the folding blade. He demonstrates to Pintear how it works using his hand, flicking the blade open with his finger closest to the blade.
“What is this for?” queries Pintear.
“A secret weapon,” says Monty while he fits the blade into Pintear's pomp, “You never know when you might need something like this.”
Patting Pintear on the head, Monty dismisses them from their training. Pintear changes back into his uniform, as well as Falcon into his usual attire. After bidding their adeus to Monty, they gravitate to the limo.