Mutiny on board the U.S.S. Wilde

Chapter One

An Intrusion

Damien crept through the hallway in his bare feet, years of experience and honed instincts guiding him as he inched along the darkened corridor. The irony of having to sneak through his own house wasn't lost on him, having spent years doing the same in the villas and chateaus of affluent collectors. He adjusted his grip on the antique German luger, cursing the mixture of fear and adrenaline keeping him from holding it steady. Stopping and closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and willed his body to relax. after a few seconds he calmly resumed his prowl, slowly making his way to the main atrium. 

He had been awakened a few minutes earlier by the alarm system. Assuming that a rival was attempting to lift a piece from his private collection, (something that just isn't done amongst respectable thieves) he grabbed the restored pistol from his bedside and slunk out of the room intent on scaring the shit out of the little prick that had broken in. 

As he rounded a corner, he noticed a soft flickering golden light coming from under the door to the atrium. His first thought was that the he must have left the fireplace burning. That thought was jostled aside as the next  one showed up which was that he never lit the fireplace. Then the notion that, whatever douchebag broke in had lit a fire, popped in. Damien knew no thief was stupid or arrogant enough to build a fire in the house he was breaking into. Furthermore, anyone intent on doing him harm wouldn't waste time with it either. Curiosity took the place of fear and mild irritation, the place of adrenaline. so he simply strolled toward the door and walked through. 

The fire crackled cheerily. A tall  figure stood silhouetted against the golden flames, cigar smoke wreathing what appeared to be an old English Admirals hat. Damien lifted the luger to his chest and pointed it at the intruder. He cocked it as loudly as he could and noticed the stranger start slightly at the sound. The figure turned its head slightly and chuckled softly. Something about the laugh set off alarms in Damien's head but before he could react the stranger spoke. 

"How do you even know if that gun still works?" The voice was that of a young man. smooth and tinged with amused condescension. It was a voice Damien knew well. A voice he had grown up with. It was the voice of mischief itself. 

    With a deep sigh, Damien said "How many times Gideon? how many times have I told you?". "What?" Gideon asked innocently. " How many times have i told you?" Damien responded, the irritation in his voice growing. How many times have I told you not to break into my god damn house?" Gideon could feel Damien's eyes burning holes into his back. "Dude, come on." he moaned. "Its not that big-"  "HOW MANY TIMES GIDEON?" Damien yelled. " WELL, HELL IF I KNOW!"  he yelled back." You say a lot of things.'dont break into my house, Gideon. Don't draw penises on my paintings, Gideon. stop changing the Church signs to display religiously offensive messages.' I just tune it out after a while"  he said dismissively and took a drag on his cigar. "Well, do it again and I'm going to put a bullet in your ass." 

Laughing, Gideon turned to meet Damien's furious scowl with a condescending smile. " Please.That rusted little Nazi paper weight couldn't-" He started to say, but was cut off by the crack of gunfire followed immediately by the sound of a bullet zipping past his head. He flailed away a few steps and stared at Damien who just kept glaring at him. They stood looking at each other in silence, as the echoes from the shot died away in distant corners of the vast gallery. Finally Gideon screamed "WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE!!"
"STOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!" Damien yelled back.

   The two stood glaring at each other for a full minute. Gideon with his admirals hat askew and a look of furious incredulity on his face, Damien with a look of lethal seriousness in his eyes. Finally, Damien broke off his gaze and strolled to the small table that held the bourbon. He laid the gun down and poured a drink. After a large gulp  he took a deep breath and glanced back at Gideon who's expression had changed from angry disbelief to just plain angry. With a tone of exasperated condescension Damien said "Oh for god sake Gideon, I wasn't going to hit you. Stop being a pussy, pour yourself a drink and tell me why you broke into my house at two in the morning looking like you just stepped off the set of master and commander."

After a brief moment Gideon begrudgingly broke of his glare and sulked over to join his friend. " Fine." he said as Damien poured him a glass and offered it to him. He ignored the cup and instead reached straight for the decanter snatching it out of Damien's hand. after several gulps he said breathlessly " But so help me god sir, if you ever shoot at me again I will defile you with that gun. are we clear?"
"Crystal." Damien replied condescendingly."Now, where the hell did you get that hat?"
Gideon took another pull of bourbon and with  mischievous smile, said: " I'm glad you asked, my boy..."

           

Damien took the decanter of brandy from Gideon before he could gulp down anymore of it. “Jesus Gideon, that's ninety year-old brandy, you don't chug it like a douchebag at a frat party.” Gideon licked his lips approvingly.” No sir, YOU don't guzzle it. I'll drink it however the hell I want due to the fact that I'm not a pretentious tool. Sweet lord that's good. What poor bastard’s cellar did you lift that from?”  Grimacing at the now half empty bottle, Damien topped off his own glass and poured one for Gideon before stoppering it and placing it back on the table. “Actually, It was a gift  from a Cuban dignitary.”  He said as he handed the glass to Gideon.

 Gideon took it and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “ Really now? Tell me Damien, this dignitary wouldn't have a big bushy beard and fondness for hand rolled cigars and oppressive regimes would he?"  Damien didn't answer him. He just smiled mysteriously at his friend as he retrieved a cigar out of the humidor. He ran it under his nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the rich, spicy scent. Gideon laughed disbelievingly. “ And I suppose the cigars were a present as well?”  

“Oh no.” Chuckled Damien as he lit his cigar. He tilted his head back as the thick white smoke rose slowly from his mouth. He turned to Gideon with triumphant grin and said “No, I acquired these in a slightly less honest manner” Gideon laughed harder and smiled approvingly. “ Serves the communist douche right. Well done sir.”  Damien shrugged and smiled.  “One does what one can.” He tipped his glass to Gideon. “To capitalism” he said.  Gideon mimicked him and still laughing said “Cheers”.

“Now,” Damien said as he set his glass down. “ explain why you broke into my house  at two in the morning dressed like extra from Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Gideon took another sip and said “ In a minute. Go put on a robe or something first. I cant take you seriously in your underwear." 

"Fair enough" said Damien. He set down his glass and walked back through the door he came in. Gideon admired his surroundings as he waited for his friend to return. From the outside, Damien's home was indistinguishable from the other abandoned warehouses that surrounded it. The building's weathered brick masonry and rusting tin  roof perfectly disguised its remarkable interior. Damien had the large loading doors welded shut leaving a small side door the only entrance. Through the door, where one would expect the floor to be, was instead a small landing at the top of the staircase that stretched down twenty feet to the actual floor.

"The atrium" as Damien called it, resembled an aircraft hanger both in its size and appearance. Steel girders crisscrossed the high ceiling and long florescent lights hanging from them were reflected by the glossy white floor far below. The iron wrought spiral stairs lead down to a maze of sculptures, statues and artworks that span the length and breadth of the atrium. Damien's study where Gideon now stood, was in a recessed room at the far end of the atrium. With only three walls, it remained open to the atrium. Except for the fireplace and the door leading to Damien's living quarters, bookshelves covered the walls of the alcove. An elegant oak desk that sat in the corner accompanied the chairs and table as the only furniture in the study.

Gideon always found the view from the top of the stairs breathtaking, especially in the late afternoons. The deep golden light of a setting sun filters in through dusty panes of the large windows that line the top of the walls giving everything a yellowish tint. To Gideon, the dim light and golden tint give the room the feel of an old photograph. The illusion always aroused in him a romantic nostalgia for he time he never knew. A time when the the world wasn't so small, and adventures were plentiful. Things like that sometimes made him think he'd been born several decades to late.
             Lost in introspection, Gideon didn't notice as Damien entered the study, now wearing a dark purple silk robe and matching slippers. He started slightly when Damien said "Alright. You. Here. Hat. Why? Go."