Disclaimer: Come on, do you really think that if I owned The Lost Medallion, I would be writing pathetic fanfictions/sequels of it? Wouldn't I be making another epic movie? Yes, yes I would be, and no, no I don't own TLM.

Sand grated harshly under the keel of the boat as it was pulled onto the beach. A tall man, wrapped in a dark hooded robe, stepped out onto the damp ground, ignoring the sharp-edged shells crunching under his bare feet. His eyes, black and cold as those of a poisonous snake, swept the area, but the long stretch of sand and water was deserted, save for the two men still crouched fearfully in the boat.

"You will wait here," he commanded them. His voice was shockingly level-sounding, with a soft island accent; nevertheless, there lurked beneath it a strong vein of danger. "No matter what happens or how long it takes, you will wait here for my return."

He vanished into the night, silent as a shadow of Death stealing up the African beach. The two men looked at each other, fearing the return of their master, but knowing better than to leave without permission. No man or woman defied the orders of Cobra and lived!

Cobra stared expressionlessly down at the man hunched over on the floor of the hut. "You know what I seek, and why," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "I believe you know where it is." The man grinned up at him derisively, picking his teeth with a grubby nail.

"You're after the medallion again, aren't you?" he said. "Didn't work for you before, no, it didn't work. Just like I told you it wouldn't. Then you tried to destroy it, and you were defeated by a mere boy. Now you want it back. But it still won't work." The warlord dipped his chin slightly, staring at the man with dangerous, glittering eyes. The man ignored him.

"I did not come to bandy gossip about what is past," Cobra said, biting the words out with angry enunciation. "You know why I came to you; you know what I require. You will help me find the medallion, and you will reverse it's power. Refuse," his fingers tensed beneath his robe, "and I will destroy you."

His host looked unimpressed. "You may cow the people of your ocean islands, but your inclination to the dramatic has little influence here," he said tartly. "No matter. I will come." He tossed a couple of bones onto the floor, noting their positions in relation to the sticks, shells, and rocks already scattered about. "I confess to a certain curiosity about this medallion," he went on, gathering up the bones and tossing them again. "And even as to how you will use it." He cut a sideways glance at Cobra, who looked like he was chewing on the rocks scattered around the floor.

"Sometimes it is risky to let one's curiosity run unchecked, witch," he said coldly, his inscrutable black eyes boring into the others'. The witch doctor smiled, though his own eyes were like chips of dark ice.

"And sometimes it is risky to meddle with power, particularly when you have no idea what you're getting into," he returned with sickening amiability. "Have a care, King Cobra. Perhaps it would benefit you to let me be curious." They held each others' gaze for several moments, then the witch doctor bared his cracked teeth in an ugly grin. "We leave at first light tomorrow," he said softly.

The dark-robed figure swept out of the hut, rigid with anger, the unpleasant laughter of his new cohort following him out the door.