Morning came, and my brain was groggy. I gradually rose up out of the uncomfortable bed, eager to leave it. While the sleep was nice, as I’d suspected, the bed was anything but. I had a spring stabbing me all night, whichever way I turned. My back cramped, aching so hard. And my hair and face were both astounding messes.

I didn’t see a basin in this room, so I decided to check out in the hall to see if I couldn’t find a bathroom.

My feet crept across the wooden floor, and went over to the door. Luckily, after I left the room, I’d woken nobody up, so that was a relief.

As I got out into the hall, I heard a shower running from behind a door. Hesitantly, I approached the door, wanting to knock on it, but I suppose I should disturb, as I am a guest.

I saw a nice plush leather bench right outside the door, so, with that, I decided to sit down. And I waited. My bladder was full, and my mouth was parched to the point that I was willing to drink tap water. But yet, I waited for around five minutes, and the door had not opened. The shower had been off for a little while now, and instead of doing the intelligent and not stubborn thing...

“Fuck it.” I mumbled aloud and stood up.

*knock knock knock*

I awaited a response, and I sure as fuck got one.

“Can you fuck off!? I’m getting ready!” a female’s voice screeched at me. She sounded around my age.

“Alright, whatever, missy. Just wanted to use the bathroom.” I replied, ready to give up and just find another bathroom.

“I’ll… be done in a minute.” she said with a less aggressive tone.

“Sure.” I didn’t really know what else to add to that. I just really hoped this wasn’t our host’s child, because I think that I maaaay have pissed her off, and then inadvertently hit on her. When you’re this adorable, you can’t really tell.

As promised, after a minute of waiting, the door flung open and I was now looking at some random teenage girl in a bathrobe with short electric blue hair and piercings on nearly every possible place on her face.

“All yours.”

“Thank you.”

“Who are you?”

“Marionette. I’m… staying here with my friends.”

“Did my mom invite you…?”

“She owns The Thieves Court? If so, yes.”

“Sounds like her. Just don’t trust a thing that bitch says.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll protect you, but she’s gonna ask you something… weird. Just accept it.”

“I am very scared and concerned now, miss.”

“You should be.”

“Alright… you have a name?”

“Axel. Good luck.”

She walked away and into a room I guessed was her’s, due to the yellow police tape across the door.

I knew her type, a rebel, an emo cybergoth. She seemed… odd. I am one hundred percent certain she has a crush on me, ya know, since I’m charming.

Whatever the deal with her was, I did my business which I won't describe in detail other than the fact I did drink the tap water, which was actually quite refreshing.

Then I went back to the ‘Servant Quarters’, where I decided to lay in bed until people decided to start waking. Unfortunately, I woke them up coming back into the room.

“Morning, Quince.” Sal said chipper-like. At least he was in a good mood.

“Hey Sal, Hey Roland, Selene, Tweeeee!” I smirked, leaning toward the demonette’s face.

“What the…?! Fuck off Quincy. I was dreaming about… forget that, actually.” Twee sneered.

“Twee, if I had a nickel for each time I’ve been told to fuck off today…”

“Isn’t it just the one?” Selene interrupted, rubbing her eyes. She had been sleeping upside down, with her feet on the pillow all night, but as soon as I came into the room now, she was normal again. I guessed she’d gotten a good sleep.

“Nah, I met this emo girl in the hall…”

“Axel?” Roland asked.

“Yeah, that’s her. We’re in trouble now though.”

“I swear to god Quincy, what did you do to that girl?” Twee ragefully said, standing up from her bed.

“Nothing. She told us that… our host is going to ask us a weird question and something is gonna be bad.” I said, holding out my hand to calm her down.

“She didn’t bother to tell you what the question could be?” Twee frowned.

“Nope. She was a… weird one.”

“Well, whatever it is…” Selene began, but then someone opened the door.

“Hello my beautiful slaves! How was your rest?” a white haired woman asked. She smiled at us through devilish dark purple lipstick, and glared at us in some sort of sarcastic contempt through brown eyes thickly surrounded with mascara. She was dressed like some sort of queen, taking up the room with her massive dress and flamboyant attitude, along with the massive ruby necklace that was way too big for her. And she was… plus sized? I suppose that would be the nice way to describe it.

“Excuse me, I think you have us confused with whoever was sleeping in here before. We aren’t slaves, we are your guests, I assume?”

“Ohhhh, no darling. You are most certainly my adorable little servants I asked my dear LeCroux to fetch. The other ones… just went missing! And so, I have required new ones! It is so hard to be a queen without slaves to do your bidding!” she gawked in a British accent. Talk about a sociopath…

“Oh dear! Did LeCroux mix you up in here again, Star Breaker, my fair knight?” she gasped, looking over at Roland.

“Uh… I was fine, your grace. Perhaps it’d be best if you… ran it over with them… first?” he muttered back nervously.

“Run over what?” Twee jolted, her eyes thinned at Roland, who was probably sweating.

“The… job... I am just surprised that you guys knew I was back...”

“Oh, well, it is a surprise you are back to me as well! How was Montana?”

“Bloody. Very… much so… Uh, can we talk to… my friends?”

“Why of course! Greetings, I am Courtney Demistelle. I’d like to get you all changed first before we begin.”

“Begin what?” Twee said with anger.

“Housekeeping work! You’ll be working for me as payment for me saving you from the law!”

I was technically still hired by Stocklord, and I wouldn’t job-cheat on his stock-y-ness with this British-French lardass.

But I mean, whatever. At least she was giving us beds, food, and a roof. I’d suck it up for now. Although I don’t think Sal or Twee wished to degrade themselves like that, so I was left wondering which one of them would ask to leave first.

We’d been led to a dressing room, begrudgingly. I didn’t resist, but the others seemed hesitant. There wasn’t really much we could do, we were surrounded by supervillains.

The Thieves Court is an extremely high class guild for supervillains, and this was their main headquarters, I wasn’t too sure on that one actually, but I and the others knew behind every door in this mansion, there was a villain loyal to Courtney, who not only owns this mansion, but every other villainous hideout across the globe and made the group in her namesake.

So I’m sure if we resisted, she’d get a ton of other highly powerful supers to make us obey. Seems like quite a fun time we have laid out for us. Ahhhh… kill me.

Speaking of, you’re probably wondering what the hell this club even is. Well, I would do it, but it’s easier for you to just listen to her do it instead.

“So, as you may know, for years, we’ve gathered quite a patronage of amazing guild members! You’ll all be serving them at this week’s conference, and also helping around the mansion with any other guests.” she told us as we went down the stairs.

“Aren’t all your guests slaves?” I asked with sarcasm, knowing the answer.

“How would I have any business if I only employed slavery? I have clients and fellow members of this prestigious group. Hush now.”

“You… mentioned a conference? What’s that about?” Sal asked.

“I did say to hush, but I suppose I can entertain that question. Yes, villains will be gathering from all over to discuss plans, gather funding for them, and start partnerships. Perhaps if you help and make it a fanciful experience for them, I can gain some new members.”

God, what a narcissist… I thought, feeling genuinely ill.

“Anyway, let us get your uniforms on. You must wear these from nine to nine during your work hours.”

“Twelve hours? Is that even legal?” I whined. Yes, I do that, I’ve found being a bitch sometimes works.

“We make it work, you are slaves to villains richer than you, after all!” she smiled back at us, showing us into the basement. I love how she perfectly summed up democracy in a single sentence. I wonder if her methodology was inspired by the US political system?

“Why are you leading us into a dark and creepy basement?” Sal asked again. I knew Sal, and I’d still not uncovered his illogical fear of basements… Any other dark space he was perfectly fine with, but if it was the bottom-most floor of a house…

“Ah, quite the inquisitive little slave, aren’t you? Yes, that is where you will get dressed so I do not have to be scarred for life at your disgustingly revolting privates. Lock the door when you get in there!” That bitch insulted my dick? Revolting isn’t the worst comment I’ve gotten about it, though, I guess.

Sal froze, unable to even move further. His body just became a statue, stuck in place. I’d never seen him like this.

“Sal?” Selene quizzically perplexed. She attempted grabbing him, but he swiftly pushed her aside even a little violently.

“S-sorry. I can’t go down there. Just bring my outfit upstairs to our room, I’ll change in there.”

“You are in no position to be making requests of your master!” Courtney exclaimed.

“I wasn’t asking you.” he grimaced.

“I’ll do it, Sal.” I offered.

“Thanks Quincy.”

No, thank you, Sal.