Hours later:Ulrich places his hands on his knees, panting hard. He had tried everything.
Everything. He could think of to get the Orc to talk. Blackmailing and threats had no effect, Faust just laughed at them. When presented with bribes he seemed bored, ignoring them with a indifferent shrugs, making comments about
only being interested in Nimmy's body. Frustrated, they had resorted to kicking the shit out of him for the past hour. He seemed to really love that. Breaking out in mad hysterical laughter, he moaned for 'more', and for Nimmy to take her top off. Orc skin was thick like leather and rough as sandpapaer; he was the one probably doing the most damage.
"Screw this, Ulrich-- lemme spit in his eyes again!" the tranquilizers had worn off of Hector and so they were forced to bound his hands and ankles with the metal cables they had brought as a precaution, Nimmy inhaled deeply.
"No." Ulrich ran a hand to smooth down the front of his hair, a habit he had picked up from his brother, "He'll go blind-- and we need him to guide us directly to the suppliers"
"The suppliers? Why didn't you say so? Ha. Untie me and I'll take you to them--"
"You're lying"
"I might be," Faust smiled, "Or you can consider the fact that I'm hungry, bored, and in dire need of a proper nap. What can I say? You kids wore me down. You win. I'll take you to these
suppliers, if that's what they go by now. My day we just called everything like it was, gangsters were gangsters, killers were killers... "
Ulrich sighed, and after a long pause said, "Alright. Nimmy help me, untie him."
"What! But you
know the moment we free him he's just going to try to kill us-"
"He won't. I was afraid it would come to this," Nimmy glares at the two of them as Ulrich kneels to Hector's level, "The captain of the Sea Tigers keeps a young Orc with him. I can call in a few favors to get him down here. I don't have too many friends of your kind," to Hector, Ulrich's eyes seem to flicker strangely, "but surely he'll know how to get some information out of you."
"Cummon' kid you're bluffing."
"I might be," Ulrich straightened upwards, scowling back the lines he had fed earlier, "Or, you can consider the fact that I'm hungry, bored, and in dire need of a proper nap. What can I say? You wore me down, Mr. Faust."
Psssshhhhht"Alpha. Tango. Whiskey. Looks like we got a blip on one of the net traps. Southern riverbank. We're in Sea Tiger waters gentleman, send in the idiots to deal with it. We can't afford distractions.""Should we let the boss know?""Negatory. She doesn't need to be bothered-- most likely a couple of tree-ban--what was that?"
"Sir?"
"It's nothing. Thought I heard growling...Look, just send them to check on the net and we can all breath easy. Gideon, out."Pffshhhhhhh
The ability to conjure even the smallest amount Fae-fire was not only difficult, but painful to the point that Faeries born the gift of Will-o'-wisp often rejected their heritage and migrated deep into the city. The ghostly blue flames that invariably burned it's user along with the intended target. Utterly pointless save for the predicament they were currently in. The Boy King sneered; why couldn't he have been born with something more practical, like a tiger. Or the ability to become one with trees or water -- fuck's sake, he'd even take becoming a rock at this point.
The three of them were suspended in a net supported by a thick tree branch. The material of it was not ordinary; but it wasn't flawless either, there was only a very small hole, enough to maybe fit a head through. He no longer had a choice. He
had to use it, if only for a second. He closed his eyes, sucking in deep gulps of air in preparation for the pain to come; something cool and smooth slipped into his palm. Nimmy didn't look at him directly, but he could tell by her hand that she was trembling.
“I’m Nade’catcher and this here’s Pineapple. Say
‘hello’ Pineapple.”
“Hello, Pineapple.
Huhuhuhu”
“Okay that’s enough, buddy-- so what are a few tree-bangers doing so close to a city sanctioned waterway?”
The two men below were so opposite of each other, it might have been comical. Nade' catcher, the smaller one, carried what looked to be an industrial electric cattle prod. His partner, Pineapple was about as large dumb looking as a bull; he dressed even more ironic-- were those..
real grenades strapped to his belt?
“You don’t smell like cops…” Faust inhaled, the orc smiled to show them all of his teeth, “You smell good. Like steak and butter.” the larger one, Pineapple, returned the smile; clearly oblivious.
“
Huhuhu. We ain’t cops. We run the goods down this river for Boss Lady and--”
“Idiot!” the one who called himself 'Nade'catcher' used an electric tipped prong to zap his partner's ribs.
Pineapple giggled stupidly as smoke that began to exude from both of his nostrils,
Huhuhu. The three Fae watched disturbed.
"I'm scared," Nimmy whispered.
Ulrich murmured, squeezing her hand, "I have an idea. But it's solely reliant on your ability to keep it together," pressing his lips into her hair he whispered "Here's the plan..."
"Wait a minute-- what about me?" Faust interjects in Gaelic, "you're the ones who got me into this."
They both look at him, squinting.
"Right. Point taken." and then he adds quickly, "Save me, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."
“Nimmy, you got this?” he watches her nod and press her mouth taut against the net.
“HEY! What are you tree-bangers talking about in there? Better not be thinking of escape—why the hell is she gagging like that?” but it was too late. Nade’catcher goes down like a sack of rocks, rolling in pain “My eyes!”
Faust howls with laughter, “Try some water!”
Pineapple tries his best to guide the agitated man, who claws and swings like madman, to the lip of the river.
Ulrich goes to work fast using his hands to sear at a tiny pre-existing hole in the net.The pain was excruciating but when it's barely enough he pushes Nimmy through; as he pulls his hands back to look at them, he realizes the extent of the damage. His hands are charred black with bits of fibers welded to the tips.
The last thing he sees is a flag of emerald hair as Nimmy hits the ground running. He passes out.
“IIEEEAA-ACK! Water makes it burn, worse! Pineapple-- grab her before she blows the entire operation!”
“Hokay, Nadie’ ” and he bites his lip and begins to lumber in what he thinks is the right direction. He pauses and then plucks two round spheres from his belt “Hide and go boom-boom?
Huhuhuhu. My favorite!”
Faust watches the scene unfolding before him, muttering to himself “Run you crazy, bitch...and you’d better come back for us…” and then he raised his voice, cackling “Water? Aye, that’ll never work try pinecones.”
“EEERRRAAH! IT BURNS! I’m hauling you in straight to Boss Lady!”
Meanwhile 
Helen wrapped around herself the secrets of her new life, and if the wrap was necessary, even comforting, it was also constricting, a barrier, because it had such sharp limits on areas of herself and what she could share. A journalist –and perhaps, deeply closeted exhibitionist- crippled by vows of silence. Actually, when she thought about it all, she didn’t really feel like she had much of a life altogether these days, she belonged to the Folk now.
To top things off, Ulrich had been missing for about a week, not wholly unusual; but when Helen learned that in he had left with the dryad called Nimmy, she grew leery. He probably had his own reasons for it; hell if she knew. Word around the tents was that the Nimmy girl had strange talents; if Ulrich pulled her along for a job then things must be...
“Turn around, let me see the other side—it was always my favorite part aside from the face.”
Selene pivoted sharply on her heel, as always, eager to comply with her Queen’s wishes, “Are you in love with him?” she questioned woefully, “Oh! Sorry.” Helen’s bodyguard and best friend, was about as straight as a three dollar bill, and watched over her like a hawk. A pining, love-sick, hawk. Normally, the rule followed that Selene would remain wordless during their ‘playtime’.
“Why is it that you can’t do the voices?” Helen reached out to feel her handy work. The elf had improved considerably, “Slightly firmer on the right cheek, you have it uneven—think steel. Think: two-a-days in the hot sun just before the big game. Needs dimples just on the lower back. And down here… this needs to be a bit more unruly if I remember correctly--”
“That tickles— Not there! Your Majesty, please!” She titters and brings a leg up to fend off vulgar, grabbing hands, “I will never be able to mimic the voices—that is because my transformations are an outward lunar projection and not an actual mutation.”
“Can all elves do this?”
“Some. But none as well as I can, Your Grace. One has to come from a good family with less diluted lines; normally an elf from my clan needs a full moon, but I can pretty much do it any time so long as the moon’s orbit is in sync. ”
Helen nodded thoughtfully, “Now for the hair”
“This is exactly like the picture you showed me, no?”
“Yes, but Damien’s at his best with a five o’ clock shadow. And I’ve always thought with longer hair he might look a bit more the way I like-- ” a look of furrowed concentration as Selene attempted to conjure something unfamiliar to her. When they usually played dress up, Helen had her change into people she had already met; Selene could do a pretty good imitation of her cousin Alistar when the mood struck her. They would laugh for hours in a spun out drug-haze.
Today was different. Helen was sober—for the most part. And with Ulrich missing too long, she was feeling a little reckless.
“Want to pretend?” Damien’s figure suggested coyly. Look wise, she was a dead ringer for O’Shalna.
“Will I feel a difference?”
His eyes slid into half-lidded hunger, “None” Selene tried a gravely whisper, she traded her Kilarney accent for South Bronx, “Go on. Touch one. Best pecs in New York, honey.”
Helen grimaced and ran a nail down a perfectly sculpted bicep, “Y’know, I could never prove it, but with Damien…I always got the feeling that I wasn’t the only one…” the elf shivered, “Anyways, that was years ago—he and I are…” shaking her head, “What am I saying? Forget it. Let’s just do this.”
“Yay!”
“Don’t do that.”
“Oopsies.”
“Or that”
Hesitation. Anticipation. Education. Reciprocation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Fascination. Manipulation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Precipitation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Indignation
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Awkwardness and laughter. More respite.
Hours later, the sounds of their laughter are interrupted by the unwanted intrusion of yelling:
“Your Highness” Thistle appears in the doorway, jam and butter knife in hand, “Nimmy’s back and she’s hurt—wait, what the hell Damien O’Shalna doing here?!!”
“Wait--” the two of women said in unison.
“KNAVE!”
Helen ties to explain but her Gaelic is still rusty. Next to her, the captain of the Sea Tigers pinches the bridge of his nose and holds up a hand, “No really. It’s not what it looks like. I’m a woman.”
“THAT IS PRECISELY WHAT--” the Sprite brandished her blade, swinging it around wildly about the room, “What?” Thistle halts mid-swing, it dawns on her, and she lowers the sandwich knife slowly, “You don’t mean… Selene, is that you?”
Damien nodded.
“That’s not funny,” the tiny pixie starts in a rage, “and Helen? You’re sick, girlfriend, real sick. Kinky in the worst way, everyone knows Sea Tiger boys are all uniform, why just the other day I was walking by the river- and I said to one of them, I said--”
“Nimmy? Where is she?” Helen breaks in, recovered.
“Oh. Right. Come with me!”
"And then what happened?" Selene had moved Nimmy's frail body atop the long dining table. Greenish, insect-like blood oozed from her fresh bandages; Thistle said something about an oven burning and slipped out as quickly as she could "Did this Pineapple guy follow you back here? Where is Ulrich?'"
Nimmy shakes her head weakly, and then nods "Ulrich? He's still back there...I dunno, this guy, Pineapple had explosives on him. One of them I just barely missed but when I looked back he..."
"Nimmy? Nimmy! Wake up you can't go to sleep until you've told us everything!" Selene shakes the Dryad hard, "If you sleep before the medical team arrives you could die"
"When I looked back--- he was gone. Just gone. I'm sorry but that's all I know. And that I could hear fighting coming from near the river..."
Helen and Selene exchange glances. Helen speaks, "Someone-- Get me Dirk Aearhil. If anyone knows where the to find Damien, he might. This has RAID spelled all over it."
Spade
