The door to Serpentor’s throne room slid open. Alarmed, the Crimson Guards raised their rifles in preparation from whoever was entering the room of their Emperor. Firefly walked into the room, confident as he strode to the Cobra Emperor. Behind him walked a young man, around twenty-seven years of age. His blond hair was tussled and hastily combed. The man wore a long-sleeve black shirt and a pair of pants modeled in a desert camouflage pattern. The Crimson Guardsmen didn’t recognize this second man and immediately leveled their bayoneted rifles.

“At ease, Guards. He is a friend. An ally. No need to cause his leathe,” Serpentor informed.

“Again with the old English, lord Serpentor? That’s what I hate the most about talking with you. You use words that aren’t words anymore,” Firefly said.

“Serpentor, my sincerest regards,” the man behind Firefly greeted.

“I take thy regards with honor, Michael Sykes. There has been a great deal of mammering amongst my men when it comes to dealing with mercenaries like you two,” Serpentor said.

“I can understand. It’s easy for incompetent soldiers in your army to not know the level of work someone like myself does. It’s easy to mistake them for being more important. Do they win battles? Yes. Do I take lives? Without question. Have they settled disputes? Perhaps, but only with brute force and a great attraction of unwanted attention. Do I settle disputes? Swiftly, silently, and without a problem. My work is clean and efficient,” Sykes started

“You boast a great deal,” Firefly said. “Serpentor, I fail to see how I can teach this kid anything.”

“Why is that?” Serpentor questioned from his throne.

“He is far too arrogant for his own good. I’m surprised it hasn’t got him killed,” Firefly answered.

“I’ve come close before,” Sykes replied. “I’ve seen Death a few times and had plenty of fun mocking him,” he added.

“Don’t even start,” Serpentor silenced him. “I’ve seen Death’s face more time than any mortal man. I hath been face-to-face with the greatest of demons and silenced them all. I mock Death,” he said.

Sykes stood silent. He knew what Serpentor was, but he didn’t know how precise Serpentor was. How calculating. Quickly, he was snapped from his thoughts.

“I see,” Sykes spat out to reenter the conversation.

“Thou better,” Serpentor said.

“What is it that you want us to do?” Firefly asked.

“We have been plagued by a new enemy, terrorists calling themselves the Ma’dah. Trying to make a name for themselves, they’ve attacked Cobra agents and Cobra interests in Romania. Go there. Get rid of this threat to our interests,” Imperial Leader said as he entered the room.

“And you would be?” Sykes asked.

“His name is Imperial Leader. He is my prime military strategist,” Serpentor said. “His battlefield knowledge is second only to mine.”

Personally, I would like to say that I find having Serpentor speak a mix of archaic English, some Latin, and some more modern speech adds to his ‘resurrected from long-dead leader’s’ persona. Maybe that’s just me, but hey? Whenever I do use archaic words, I’ll be sure to give you, the reader, and the definitions below the story. So… Leathe means death. Mammering means hesitating. That’s about all…