5. P R E D A T O R S : Nightmares

Part I: CHAPTER I

Mr. Barakoa opened his eyes to find himself hovering in the vast expanse of space—an innumerable amount of stars, accented by the presence of galaxies and asteroid belts, set against the deep blue backdrop that represented the vacuum of the void.

The Director of Xirxine realized with a start that he was missing something critical—the mask that gave his organization its name. Startled, he raised his hands to his face and felt his unusually bare face. "Where did it...?" he began to ask, his voice trailing away as he looked around frantically.

"Lose something, friend?"

Mr. Barakoa whirled around.

Sitting behind him, levitating in the air, legs crossed, was a being much like himself: humanoid in shape but, to Mr. Barakoa's great surprise, with a fox-shaped mask not unlike his own.

In addition to this, the fox-man was tossing Mr. Barakoa's mask up and down with one hand while the other rested on his thigh.

"Who... who are you?" Mr. Barakoa asked, shocked.

"Mbweha," the man replied, sounding amused. He stopped tossing the mask and gestured to it with his other hand. "This yours, eh?"

"I... yes," Mr. Barakoa confirmed. "Please, may I...?"

"Oops!" Mbweha tossed the mask behind him. "Slippery."

Mr. Barakoa's eyes widened. "No!" he cried as the mask tumbled through the emptiness of space.

Suddenly, another creature in a mask—this one shaped like a hare's head—appeared in a blink of white starlight, leaping forward and snatching the mask out of the air. She landed solidly and turned to the fox-man. "Mbweha," she said in a scolding tone, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.

"What? I was just playing around." Mbweha crossed his arms, still seated, and turned back to Mr. Barakoa with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Apologies on his behalf, rafiki yangu," the hare-woman told Mr. Barakoa, handing him the mask. "He is... young."

"Relatively speaking, of course," Mbweha put in as Mr. Barakoa put the mask back on.

"I... I don't understand," Mr. Barakoa stammered. "Who are you? And where am I?"

Mbweha let out a barking laugh and bounced to his feet. "You hear that, Kubeba?" he called, cupping a hand around his mouth. "He don't know who we are!"

"Stop yelling, kaka mdogo," a deep voice grumbled as another mask-wearing figure, this one shaped like a bear (and roughly the size of one, too), emerged from starlight. He picked up Mbweha by the scruff. "I can hear him just as well as you."

"Uongo, uongo," Mbweha said dismissively. "No ears are better than a fox's."

"Punguani," Sungura replied, rolling her eyes and twitching her ears.

"None of you have answered my questions," Mr. Barakoa growled, growing impatient. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"Mm? No questions about the mask?" Mbweha clucked his tongue in a mockery of Sungura. "Shame on you, Mwindaji."

Mr. Barakoa stumbled backward in shock. "You—how do you know my name?!" he exclaimed.
"More questions!" Mbweha rolled his eyes behind his mask. "You will get your answers when the others come, mtoto. Do not worry—Mwamba and Mwitu should be finishing their race just about now."