Chương 21: How to Spell Tyranny

"Just bring me a baby, Rachel. I don't care who it is. I don't care what it is. I don't even care if you have the baby yourself," Mordak screamed, causing Regina to recoil.

"I don't understand, sir," Regina replied, her head cocking to the side as she processed the absurdity of the demand.

"What's the matter? Did I use words that were too big for you to understand?" he mocked, standing up from his desk.

"I said bring… me… a… you know… a B‑A‑B‑E‑Y." Elios darted across the room to Mordak's side and whispered in his ear. Mordak blinked slowly, then turned to him with quiet disbelief.

"Are you sure?" he asked, doubt dripping from every word.

"Yes, sir," Elios said shyly.

"There is no E in baby." Mordak turned to Regina.

"Bring me a… B‑A‑B‑B‑Y." Elios tapped his shoulder again and whispered. Mordak pulled back, even more confused. Regina watched the pair, struggling not to roll her eyes or burst out laughing.

"Agatha!" Mordak yelled.

"Agatha, get in here!" Agatha rushed through the door.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood, sir, how may I be of assistance?" she asked, pad and pen in hand.

"You are smart. Not as smart as me, of course, but everyone says you are indeed smart," he said, stepping closer.

"Thank you, sir," she replied apprehensively. Mordak shoved his hands behind his back in an exaggerated show of authority.

"Elios, come here. Right beside me. We are going to lay this matter to rest right now," he said, turning his gaze back to Agatha. Agatha shifted nervously.

"Sir?"

"Agatha, tell Elios how you spell baby," he commanded smugly. Agatha looked at Mordak, then at Elios, then at Regina. The older woman's expression resembled that of a cornered animal.

"Sir?"

"Are you deaf? What is it with you women? Let me move closer so you can hear me. I asked you how you spell the word baby," Mordak shouted, now only inches from her face.

"I heard you, sir. I just didn't think you were serious," she replied, stepping back nervously.

"I'm waiting," he hissed, checking his watch.

"Tick‑tock, Agatha. I haven't got all day!"

"Well, sir, traditionally the word is spelled…" she began, turning to Regina, her eyes filled with quiet desperation. Regina shrugged before interjecting, "B‑A‑B‑Y, sir. The word baby is spelled B‑A‑B‑Y." Mordak stormed toward Regina.

"If I wanted your opinion, I would give it to you, Rachel. I didn't ask you. I asked Agatha," he snapped before turning back to Agatha.

"It's Regina, sir. Not Rachel," Regina said, trying to keep his focus on her instead of his assistant. Agatha suddenly straightened her back and rolled her eyes.

"Regina is correct, sir. B‑A‑B‑Y is how baby is spelled." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Not anymore!" Mordak barked.

"Take this down, Agatha." He rushed to his desk.

"Executive Order 90210: the word baby will now be spelled… B‑A‑B‑E‑Y. Got it? This way, I am right and everyone else is wrong," he said proudly. Regina watched as Mordak grinned in triumphant glory. His smile faltered, his eyes darting back and forth. The maniacal grin faded as his gaze settled on Agatha, who stood motionless.

"What's the problem? I don't see you writing, Agatha," Mordak said, cocking his head.

"Sir, I don't think that's how that works," Agatha replied timidly.

"Are you in charge, Agatha?" he asked, standing up, his face now the color of a sunburned tangerine.

"No, sir," she whispered, eyes downcast.

"Well? Who is?" he bellowed, scanning the room.

"The last time I checked…" he began softly, before slamming his fist on the desk with a thunderous crack.

"I WAS! Now get out of here and bring me that executive order to sign!" he roared, pointing at the door. Agatha stood frozen, unsure if he could possibly be serious.

"I don't see you moving, Agatha… GO NOW BEFORE I FIRE YOU!" he growled. Agatha jumped, clutching her notebook to her chest, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she rushed toward the door.

"Now, as for you," he said, turning his gaze to Regina.

"Soooo, what part of bringing me a baby do you not understand? Do you not know what a baby is? Do you not comprehend that your job is to bring me a baby when I ask for one?"

"I got that part, sir," Regina said through gritted teeth.

"Where do you propose I get a baby?"

"There are quite literally thousands of them out there, Rachel. All you have to do is just go pick one up," he scoffed.

"I could walk outside right now and probably find three or four of the little beasts."

"It's Regina, not Rachel," she mumbled. His eyes snapped toward her.

"What was that?" Regina considered correcting him again but thought better of it.

"But sir?" she began.

"But nothing!" he interrupted.

"Get out there and bring me back a baby!" he shouted.

"Steal one, borrow one, have one. I don't care how you get it. Or where you get it from! Just bring me a baby that I can use to show the people what a good job I did in destroying one!"

"Sir?" Regina asked, dumbfounded.

"You are not suggesting…

""I'm not suggesting anything, Rachel. I am outright telling you: get out there and bring me a baby to execute. Now go!" he demanded, pointing toward the door. With that, Regina turned on her heel and quickly left the room. Regina stepped into the reception area. She halted immediately as two delivery men strained and sweated around a towering, gold‑plated monument to madness. The statue was nine feet tall, impossibly heavy, and gloriously horrifying.

It featured not one but two identical Mordaks locked in a self‑congratulatory handshake so smug it could be heard through solid glass. One Mordak beamed, teeth bared in triumph. The other tilted his head back mid‑laugh, as if he'd just told himself a joke only Mordak could understand. The base split between each Mordak. One side obsidian, the other marble. Each with a plaque in highly polished gold and silver. One side read: Mordak Blackwood, a man equal only to himself.

The other: Mordak Blackwood, taking back what was his. Behind the statue, a mirrored panel reflected the handshake infinitely; an endless tribute to his vanity.

"Careful, careful!" one delivery guy barked, shoulders wedged between the wall and Mordak's left kneecap.

"You don't wanna dent his other Mordak."

"I'm pretty sure it just winked at me," the other muttered, massaging his spine.

"This thing's got the energy of a cursed tomb." Across the room, Agatha typed furiously.

"You'll need to tilt it forward and pivot. He said it must face the entrance." She huffed.

"Something about 'assertive welcome posture, letting people know who's in charge.'" Regina stared, speechless, as the second Mordak statue's outstretched arm slowly swiveled within the confines of the elevator, knocking over a potted plant.

"Of course," she whispered.

"Because the Mordak in the office doesn't do that quite effectively enough, right?!" Agatha snickered.

"Seriously, what's all this about?" Regina asked, approaching Agatha, who now held the freshly typed executive order. Regina rolled her eyes.

"You're kidding, right? That was years ago. When is he going to let it go?"

"Never, because if you say something enough times it must be true. So, no, I'm not kidding. You just can't make this shit up." With the delivery men finally giving her enough room to squeeze by, Regina stepped into the elevator. She took one last look at the ridiculous statue of Mordak congratulating himself, then pressed the button for the lobby.