we do not go quietly into the night || g a i u s ||

There was a sort of beauty in it all. An art.

There was a stark and haunting exquisiteness in Azkaban. In its darkness. Its forboding. Its hopelessness. Every element, from the frothing brackish waters to the crackling thunderclouds looming above to the piece of night carved into a the shape of a sharply angled obelisk, seemed engineered to drown whatever semblance of hope that might have survived the Dementors in this dark place.  The suffocating vice of despair and wretchedness settled around Oogie’s neck like a noose, as if some cosmic power was merely counting down the seconds before it was the bone man’s turn.

It wasn’t often that Oogie held his own umbrella. It was an unusual sight: a walking skeleton clad in a fine black suit of shadows, holding an umbrella over his inked bald head as he waited for someone foolish enough to invite him in. He dampened the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as he looked skywards at the iron tower, the top of which was too far for him to see.

Ever since the end of the second war, the Dementors had been removed from Azkaban and been replaced with Aurors. On one hand, Oogie knew from experience that Dementors were not easily persuaded. On the other hand, Auror and other ministry officials had this inconvenient preoccupation with justice and the rules. In some cases, Oogie would have better luck negotiating with the living shadows than those humans. But Oogie was a businessman. To him, it was a universal truth that every interaction was a transaction. Every person had their price. For some it was simple. Money. Prestige. Their lives. Others required more work, but in the end, they were all human. All it took was a little forethought, a little strategy, to position the right pin in the right place. After that, even the smallest amount of pressure was enough to move a mountain.

“Mr. Harrison,” the skeleton said, greeting the mid-sized blond Auror who was now waiting for him at the entrance, just within the wrought-iron gates. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Auror Harrison at least had the good sense to return the bone man’s proffered hand, though with a little more perspiration and loathing than Oogie liked in his handshakes. “Sir,” he said, through gritted teeth.

Oogie smiled at the man. “Don’t be so alarmed, Mr. Harrison. This will all be over quite soon. I assure you, I am a man of my word.”

Auror Harrison seemed quite unconvinced, but nonetheless he turned sharply on his heels and led the bone man inside.

As they walked, they seemed to somehow be making their way both upwards and sideways through the tower, with Oogie’s long limbs easy keeping pace with Auror Harrison’s hurried pace. It was quite clear that Harrison wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so Oogie settled into the silence comfortably, listening to the sound of the North Sea’s waves crashing both near and far away. As they moved, Oogie spared a few glances around the infamous jail. It wasn't the first time he had been here, but every time he visited he got the strangest sense that he might be looking at his future. There were only a few paths paved for men like him, and most of them ended either here or in the ground. He recognized a few of the haggard faces that peered out at him from behind rusted bars, and inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

On most occasions, the kingpin would never willfully enter this prison. It was perhaps the only dark place the he would not be found. But circumstances had forced his hand and he had no choice but to pay a visit to his old friend. Oogie had met Gaius some three or four years ago, before the older man’s incarceration, of course. Gaius was, like Oogie, a man of manners. At the time, Oogie had just recently risen through the ranks of Knockturn Alley scum and was carving out a nice place for himself in the criminal underworld. It seemed almost inevitable that in his dark dealings he might cross paths with followers of the Dark Lord. Never a man to play politics, Oogie had seen the opportunity to make a profit from both sides. Gaius had been a powerful ally and a reliable source of business for the bone man. He might have even called the Death Eater a friend, if either men were to deal in such nonsense.

They had lost contact after Gaius’s incarceration, since Oogie didn’t want to draw attention to his growing criminal empire by consorting with a known murderer. Gaius would understand, he reasoned. It was just business and they were businessmen. Aside from sending a bottle or two of fine liquor to ease the Death Eater’s stay in Azkaban, Oogie would have been content to leave it at that. However, he should have known that a man as determined as his old friend would never go quietly into the night.

Oogie’s organization had been monitoring the hushed whispers of the underworld when a pattern begun to emerge. Coded messages in the Prophet. Hidden communiqués passed surreptitiously between the highly-bred. Anomalies. All of them completely innocuous to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. It was alarming at first. Something was brewing, and whatever it was, it was big. The bone man was not about to let something of this magnitude happen in his territory and threaten the delicate equilibrium he had spent years building. At least not without all of the facts. Oogie had mobilized many of his considerable resources to identify the source and was surprised when his old friend’s name showed up on his desk almost a month later. After that, there was really no question as to where he would be spending his Sunday before he took off on a long-awaited vacation.

Auror Harrison stopped abruptly and Oogie nearly tripped over the smaller man. They had arrived in a corridor, slightly nicer and cleaner than the rest of them (though that wasn’t saying much). There were three cells on their side of the corridor, and the Auror was currently unlocking a massive iron padlock around the wooden door.  After a few seconds, the lock was removed and the door held open to Oogie, who entered the “foyer” without so much as an announcement. It was empty at the moment, and Oogie assumed Gaius was in the adjoining room perhaps.

“You have twenty minutes,” Auror Harrison barked from the doorway. He seemed very displeased.

Oogie clicked his tongue disappointedly. He gracefully sidled up to the Auror so he was all but looming. Dark black eye sockets bore down on the smaller man and Oogie placed five spidery white fingers on the Auror’s shoulder one by one. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and melodious. “Good conversation is like art, Mr. Harrison; you should never rush it. Twenty minutes is not enough time to allow an oil painting to dry, let alone build the meaningful connections that the soul craves. My friend and I haven’t seen each other in a long time, so there is much to discuss on this day. More time is always better than less, don’t you think Mr. Harrison?”

Pin.

“Or should we ask your sister? I’m sure she would like a little more time.”

Pressure.

Auror Harrison swallowed thickly, his body suddenly growing rigid as the blood drained from his face. Oogie took that as an answer and nodded thoughtfully, letting his bony fingers linger just a second too long on Harrison’s shoulder before taking them away. Harrison turned stiffly, walked out of the room, and shut the door heavily behind him.

Oogie looked around the empty room, not wanting to rush Gaius if he was perhaps still performing his morning ablutions or resting. Oogie was in no rush. Tattooed fingers unbuttoned his suit jacket and he sat down in a slightly dusty chair, across from a charming desk with a few papers neatly organized next to a very elegant quill. Movement in the other room drew the skeleton’s gaze and he turned to face the figure who entered a second later.

“Gaius, my old friend, I apologize for arriving unannounced. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” the bone man said, the inky black teeth on his cheeks slithering upwards into a familiar, though sinister, smile. “You look like death.”

@Gaius Purcell (let me know if you want me to change anything!)

The hollow click of the lock echoed through the cold cell and off its ragged walls, and Gaius; next door at the little rusted basin which served as a makeshift sink within his own personal chamber; had looked up impulsively at the sound. The Pavlovian response of the confined; when life had been reduced to an accurate timetable, anomalies had a tendency to indicate something unpleasant was about to occur; disagreeable volatility that could not be considered nor planned for. It meant unscheduled cell checks, the discovery of contraband, summary punishments, a punch in the abdomen that, at the age of 48, would take him longer and longer to recover from. The Death Eater dried his wet face with his grey flannel, and whilst bracing his oblique muscles for the inevitable strike, he peeked into the room that served as his Studiolo.

Gaius’ eyes adjusted to the tall figure clad in black, making himself at home upon one of the battered prison chairs. The Death Eater took a step into the room, gently rubbing his bare neck, contemplating the well-dressed skeleton that looked back at him.

Oogie’s network had proved to be alarmingly efficient.

A half grin broke out across Gaius’ face, despite his best attempt to control it. “I could say the same about you, mi amigo.” Gaius strode over to the Kingpin and shook his hand warmly. “Today, of all days, you are a sight for sore eyes.” The older wizard moved back to the other side of the aged desk and took a seat opposite the skeleton man. Carefully, he poured water from a dented copper carafe into two tumblers. “You must forgive me that all I can offer you is water. I had a somewhat decent selection of beverages, but unfortunately I had a disagreement with an Auror, which resulted in his extended stay in hospital wing, and, naturally, the head warden was somewhat . . . overzealous in his punishment. Hence my quarters were stripped of my meagre belongings.” He gestured to his empty bookshelf, fashioned out of an old wooden trunk, looking rather bare against the stone wall. “Rather frustrating. But they had the good decency to return my writing privileges last week.” Gaius placed one beaker of water in front of Oogie, before setting one before himself.

“But so are the tribulations of a varied life. At least I had the full enjoyment of your Armagnac last Christmas; an unexpected gift that was most appreciated.”

Gaius recalled earlier meetings with Oogie, in what he would refer to as “better times”. Times when Gaius had strode through the Ministry with impunity; when he had tried to assemble the myriad fragments that resembled the Dark Lord’s Utopia; when for a flittering moment the future had laid out before him like a blank page; awaiting his dictation. Oogie had been a reliable figure in those days. To achieve many of their aims, the Death Eaters had, for want of a better expression, outsourced many of their commitments. Hence the untrustworthy snatchers. Hence the useless Greyback and his pack of snivelling dogs. Death Eaters were limited in number, and thus temporary and fractious accords were needed with cartels that, if one wanted to be purely aesthetic about it, could be termed as unsavoury. Mudbloods were unfortunately unlikely to round themselves up, after all. Of all these unlikely alliances, Oogie had been the one who stood out, before even considering his deathly visage.

Gaius had needed information. Oogie would provide it, and then some. Gaius had needed individuals to be broken. Oogie would break them. Gaius had needed a high ranking ministry official to be first extorted, then disgraced, and then finally vanished in the night. Oogie would do this efficiently and with no mess. Of course, for a price. And of course, funds were transferred. Gaius’s dealings with the Bone Man were always off the record, unknown to most other Death Eaters, who, with their squeamish ideals and fear of Knockturn Alley and its colourful denizens would run a mile from Oogie, despite their big, hollow words to the contrary.
Gaius knew that Oogie was no political zealot; no bureaucrat with ideals about his station, very probably no lover of Lord Voldemort and his band of merry men. Instead, what Gaius saw in the younger wizard was a pragmatist, just like himself. And, as he had proven time and time again, he could be trusted. Gaius kept the transactions simple: “tasks” went Oogie’s way; money exchanged accounts; people were dealt with. And to keep the wheels moving smoothly, Gaius ensured that any meddlesome or inquisitive Aurors were kept far away from Oogie’s operations.

And now, once again, the Bone Man sat before Gaius, in Azkaban, of all places. Other wizards would have ran a mile; coming face to face with their worst nightmare, the dead prison in the North Sea; to have tea and cake with a war criminal. Not Oogie. Gaius would have almost suspected that the wizard before him enjoyed such a challenge.

“I do hope that you did not have too much trouble getting here? Sometimes our friends the Aurors can play a little bit too much by the rulebook. They think they have a mandate now.”

Gaius considered his colleague across the desk. The communication the Death Eater had employed had been something of a message in a bottle. The Personals page in the Prophet; used by various deleterious specimens to proclaim messianic messages to whoever would read them; by hopeless tramps selling their lascivious wares to the lonely and abandoned; filled with acronyms that made no sense even to the initiated. Amongst this waste, Gaius had sent his message into the black void.

PILGRIMS REQUIRING GUIDANCE.
SEND AFFECTION TO THE SCORNED.
MANY CHARMS IN RETURN.
JINXES PAGE 581 PARA 2.

Jinxes referred to Jinxes for the Jinxed, which contained 481 pages. For anyone who happened to peruse the message, it would appear to be a typographical error. But this was the flag that Gaius and Oogie had employed in the past. Gaius was always the scorned. His targets were always old flames. A trustworthy individual was a pilgrim. Gaius had hoped, with his message, that Oogie’s organisation would still pick up the old signals, and, more importantly, be sufficiently interested in what lay beneath.

“It seems you and your friends still read the gutter press, which is always most appreciated. Unfortunately, they give me the Daily Prophet here every day, whether I want it or not.” Gaius smirked at his comrade across the table. “Lucky me.”

Silence descended. Alone on Gaius’s empty floor, only the crashing waves could be heard beyond the rusted bars.

“Oogie, my friend, I have some pilgrims for you.” The older wizard’s hazel eyes scanned the tabletop, before looking up to meet the black recesses that contained the Bone Man’s dark orbs.

“I require your assistance.”

Oogie had meant what he said. Joking aside, the Death Eater was looking quite worse for wear. His once-clean shaven, well-manicured appearance was gone, replaced by the drab colors of Azkaban’s garb and long hair. Oogie had never seen the ever-immaculate man looking anything less. It was worth noting then, that even as the older man sat down across from Oogie, there was still something refined and elegant about his manner. As if not even Azkaban could take that away. It was quite impressive. Oogie had no doubt that Gaius had found a way to make his imprisonment a little bit more bearable. If there was something Gaius was skilled at, perhaps even more so than Oogie was, it was recognizing opportunities and calculating his way to the top.

Long, bony fingers wrapped carefully around the cup of water Gaius offered to him. Oogie made a gentle ‘cheers’ motion before bringing the tumbler to his lips and taking a delicate sip. His tattooed teeth quirked up for a just a second as the murky-tasting water passed over his tongue. It was truly awful. Oddly enough, the water in Azkaban brought him back to his days as a forger, when he was scrounging for food and money in the grimiest parts of Knockturn Alley, part-beggar, part-alley creeper. It was a long time ago but it still felt as fresh in the Kingpin’s mind as the night he ran away from home. He made a mental note to himself to send Gaius a whole case of Armagnac next time as he drained the cup politely. No one deserved this.

At his mention of “gutter press”, Oogie chuckled softly, more to himself than to his companion. Gaius was right, it was somewhat humorous that his crime syndicate was scouring the newspapers like conspiracy theorists. But life was stranger than any fiction. “Ah, I am afraid this is what the world has come to, my friend,” Oogie said wistfully. “But as you know, an empire must be built on a strong foundation. Gutter press is the word of the masses. The Prophet may be staffed by fools masquerading as intellectuals, but a fool is nothing if not a… what is the muggle saying… ‘a canary in a coal mine’? They will warn us of any coming danger before they even realize they are suffocating.”

A silence passed, and Oogie got the feeling that this was building to something. To the real reason he was here. He had been surprised to see their code appear suddenly in the newspaper and he had almost considered ignoring it, but there was a strict understanding among the honorable of the dishonorable men like Oogie and Gaius. He would answer the call, just as he knew Gaius would have answered his, were their situations switched.

“Oogie, my friend, I have some pilgrims for you.”

And there it was. It sounded like another war was brewing. Oogie expected as much. In the almost three years after the Dark Lord’s defeat, it seemed inevitable that the remaining factions of his army would one day rise again. The Dark Lord’s physical body might have been destroyed, but his ideology would not die so easily. Luckily for Oogie, he had no love for either side of the bloodiest crusade. He was a man planted firmly in the middle, positioned to make the largest profit regardless of who won and who lost. It was the wisest place to be.

Oogie locked eyes with the man across from him, and then he leaned forward, folding his inked fingers together thoughtfully. It wasn’t that he was wary to get involved in another war, quite the opposite really. And far be it from the skeleton king to judge someone for something as mundane as murder. Sometimes these things were simply necessary. But the Dark Lord’s army was probably on its last legs, meaning their reach was limited. Oogie could provide them the resources to make whatever they were doing run much more smoothly. Knowing Gaius, this would happen with or without Oogie’s assistance. Oogie would much rather be around to keep an eye on things. It was his territory after all. Assistance could mean a lot of things, but since these were “pilgrims” Gaius had brought him here for, it meant that there were some parties, most likely outside of this wretched prison who were in need of something. And people in need were Oogie’s favorite type of people.

Ooge nodded, his tattooed brain dipping ever so slightly. “My resources are at your disposal, Gaius. Tell me, what is it that you need?” Dark eye sockets glanced back at the door behind them.  “And please, speak freely. Auror Harrison has assured me that nothing said here will be able to leave this room.” Oogie adjusted the ring on his finger and smiled slightly. “As I am sure you know, it can be so hard to keep a secret. But Auror Harrison has been properly motivated. You would be surprised how easily persuaded men like this are when the person they are dealing with is not a prisoner already under their control. All of that bravado evaporates when they realize that though you may be locked up here with them, they are the ones trapped outside with me."

Upon hearing of poor Auror Harrison’s predicament, Gaius grinned back at Oogie. Harrison was an irritating little middle-manager; all hustle and bustle, too long in the job to be a simple jailer, and yet too stupid to be promoted away from the desolate fortress of Azkaban. It amused Gaius greatly to imagine the little jobsworth sweating. To have the bone man looking over your shoulder; well, that was an unenviable position for anyone to be in, and was bound to cause the auror more than a few sleepless nights.

The Death Eater exhaled loudly, for a moment pausing to choose his words more carefully.

“What I need, Oogie, are your, how shall we phrase it, people skills. In particular, your people-shaping skills.” Gaius leaned forward, arms crossed and placed across the old table, looking his companion straight in his dark eye sockets. “The last time I was in the thick of things, your organisation was reasonably well supplied with talented individuals. Individuals with proficiencies that would be rather useful in wartime.”

Gaius looked away, wondering exactly how much information he should, or could, give away. Oogie could be trusted, of that there was no doubt. A lack of trust equalled death to people in his line of work. Betrayal had a tendency to catch up with with the betrayer, sooner or later. And, between these two men, as they sat face to face in the cold misery of Azkaban, such a truth was also applied. Treachery from one would be a death sentence. It was an unspoken truth of their relationship.

“Oogie, I have a slight predicament. As you well know, I represent a political movement. A political movement that today lies dead. Not only dead, but well buried, too, I might add. Its slayers stood above the grave and held an oration to all present, proclaiming this very fact. It is dead, and we; its loyal followers; well we no longer exist. Unfortunately, that is not the entire truth.”

Again Gaius turned conspiratorial, inclining his head towards Oogie’s ornate skull. “I have some . . . volunteers. Let’s put it that way. But they have a slight problem. Some of them are, how shall I put it, not qualified to serve. Their motivations may be strong, but their minds and bodies are not.” When the words had left his mouth, the Death Eater realised even that was a slight exaggeration; the “volunteers”, having been selected without any say in their drafting at all, may have very little ambition for this exercise. But no matter. They had been selected. Should the awakened turn away now, their destruction would await them.

“I need you to take some of these young souls, a handful at most, and train them. Just the basics. Pain techniques and torture. Defensive and offensive spell casting. Hand to hand combat. Interrogation resistance. They need to be able to do everything clandestinely too, so a little tradecraft would be useful. This time, the campaign will be fought rather differently.”

He allowed this information to sink in. Oogie was a grounded individual, thus Gaius did not expect him to be shocked at the revelation. However he was an intelligent man, and surely could not miss how the Death Eater had just informed him that machinations were beginning; machinations that aimed to ignite the old hostilities that had once held the wizarding world on the brink of its own destruction; machinations that would aim to tear that world apart once again.

“There will of course be a significant Galleon amount per head. Funds are available in an account in Zürich, controlled by me, or rather one of my pseudonyms. I am entrusting you and your services, Oogie, because, as you can tell, I am somewhat desperate. Fate has dealt me a rather unkind hand of late. You have become an essential piece in my plan.”

People shaping. It was a simple request, possibly more simple than Gaius himself realized. The Nightmare League excelled at molding people into weapons and pointing them in the right direction. They might as well be the organization’s main export. Oogie sympathized with the Death Eater, though his cause was cause of great concern to the bone man. That would have to be dealt with as well. Oogie knew Gaius well enough to know that the older man must be quite frustrated with his predicament. To be trapped in here, in this hellhole, where the cause he sacrificed his freedom for was dragging itself out of the deep grave from which it had been interred. And yet he was still so determined. Ideology was perhaps one of the most dangerous forces in this world.

“Gaius,” Oogie said companionably, once the other man had finished. “We could be considered old friends, could we not? You were always so generous and your company is always a refreshing breath of air, especially compared to the mindless underbosses I must unfortunately spend far too much of my time with. What sort of man would turn his back on such a long-standing partnership? Consider your request done.”

Now, to business. “There is the matter of their training. A handful of students should certainly be manageable, assuming they are all basically competent.” Knowing Gaius, they probably were. “The trainers will have to be selected very carefully,” he said thoughtfully. Oogie went through the roster in his head. There were many individuals in his organization whose skills would be well-suited for this particular task, especially if they were going to be handsomely compensated for their participation. Gaius was always more than generous with his payment, which was one of the reasons he was Oogie’s preferred business partner all those years ago.

He began counting off the trainers he had in mind. First, there was Tony. “I have recently acquired a new Punisher. If you are looking for someone to test pain tolerance, I can think of no one who would take to the task with as much… gusto and passion. Pain of the uncomplicated type is his mastery. That’s one.” He raised one long finger.

Next, the Zukovs. “As you know, I have no shortage of fighters and duelists, but there are two who come to mind immediately.” He smiled, feeling a little pleased with himself. “I have had the good fortune of securing the employment of not one, but two wizards trained by the Vremya Grabitel himself, before his passing. If the payment is tempting enough, they would be my first choice to teach your volunteers all there is to know of hand to hand combat and dueling.” Grisha would probably be over the moon at the opportunity to whip some civilians into shape and work out some of that rage. Niska would have to be there to temper his nephew’s insanity. That would work. He raised two more fingers. “That’s three.”

“As far as tradecraft… there are a few lovely ladies in my employ who have impressed me recently.” His hand faltered ever so slightly. He thought immediately of Maia, who in her first few assignments had naturally fallen into the role of spy and played it brilliantly. Of course, he also knew Maia had no love for Death Eaters or their cause. That was not a good idea. There was also Mishka. Mishka’s light fingers and ability to fade away into the background when she wanted to were also quite useful, especially if Gaius was looking to be more discrete. “But, as I am sure you know, espionage is a dangerous game and secrecy is the law of survival. That may require some shifting. If that is the case, there are some others who would do a good job as well. I will look into it when I return. ”

Oogie then moved his hand to rub his chin thoughtfully, another smile stretching ominously across his inked lips. “And I will handle the interrogations myself. Each volunteer will, of course, be exposed to my Probes and become familiar with legilimens as necessary, but it seems pertinent to be thorough. Interrogation is a delicate art and I would like to personally oversee their education.” Making his decision, he turned his attention back to the former Death Eater, his mind already strategizing and projecting future scenarios to be prepared for.

“Now. These volunteers you spoke of, tell me about them. What should I know?”

The older wizard listened carefully as Oogie listed the various options to him. As he would have expected, it appeared that the reach of the Bone Man’s organisation was comprehensive, and the very mention of wizards schooled by the Vremya Grabitel was enough to generate a raised eyebrow. When Oogie reached the topic of personal interrogations with the man himself, the Death Eater let loose a wry smile; he would not wish such an experience on even a hated enemy. At least he could ensure that the new recruits would receive only the very best treatment. And this was important, for the Death Eater was not fully enamoured with this plan in the slightest. He needed these callow recruits to be pushed to the very limit and beyond, if they were to be of any genuine use.

“Oogie, I trust your selections completely. You are much better versed in these fields than an old man like me; and I’m sure your . . . associates are of the requisite character. Please, do what you think is needed. That you oversee the operation is enough for me. I have seen your people in action before; I have witnessed firsthand how your men and women act, and I have never come across another organisation quite as professional. Hence why I came to you. My only request is that there is a veneer of confidentiality over the proceedings. I would ask that your trainers know only the bare minimum; you are training new recruits, that is enough. They must have no idea that they are training recruits for me.”

The Bone Man’s final question, though, was another matter entirely, and for the first time in many’s a conversation, the Death Eater did not have even a semblance of a reliable answer for his old comrade.

“What you should know, my friend, is that I do not know. Unfortunately, this . . .  how shall we call it . . . this procedure was instigated without my direct participation. And now, because the Gods most certainly have a sense of humour, it suddenly appears that this plan is all I, and indeed my associates, have.” He gave an almost wistful look away, over Oogie’s shoulder to the wall beyond.

“How times can change.” Gaius suddenly gazed into Oogie’s eye sockets with a strange intensity. His voice dropped to something close to a hiss. “A word to the wise, my friend. Be aware the fragility of power. It is difficult to achieve, as you most certainly know well. And it is very much easier to end up with nothing, or, as is my case, less than nothing. Watch your associates.” His point made; he suddenly brightened, and his countenance changed enough to act as an adjustment to the tone of the conversation.

“But of my . . . volunteers. Oogie, I know nothing. And to be completely blunt, for all I know, I could be sending you several useless duds. That is the unfortunate position I am currently in. And this means that I need you to act as my proxy. Judge them for me. And, if they prove to be not fit for purpose,” and he made a small trail in the air with his finger, “ . . . destroy them.”

It was an all-or-nothing operation. Either these new recruits, dredged up from the offspring and relations of other Death Eaters, would prove to be a stunning success, or they would not. And in such case, they would be too much of a security risk to let go wandering back into society chattering away about how they were “nearly recruited”. And Gaius knew, that of all the tasks he had assigned to Oogie, he would certainly not shy away from this one.

Gaius adjusted his posture and stretched his neck slowly. “My question to you, Oogie, is how exactly would you prefer for this . . . education, for let us not pretend it is anything else . . . how would you like it to proceed? Through my contacts I can pass basic instructions for action. I presume you would need such lessons to take place on your facilities?”