chapter one
IS THERE A ‘DACTYL IN THE HOUSE
On a remote island just off the coast of Florida, known as Jungle Island, Tara Freemont, environmentalist and owner of the island, is laying prone on a beach towel sun-bathing. She’s always loved the island for it’s year round warmth and isolation but, she loves it mostly for the animal reservation in which close to extinct animals are protected.
As she lays there daydreaming and enjoying the cool breeze blowing off the ocean the sun is suddenly blotted out if only for a second. She rolls over to look, confused as to why a plane would be so far off course (Jungle Island is a no-fly-over zone), and is astonished to see a 30 foot long leather behemoth.
“Wha…? A pteradactyl! And it’s headed for the main land,” Tara stammers as she quickly jumps to her feet, slipping her skimpy top back on. “The only place pteradactyls still exist are on Taragonia where I left the ‘girls of wildside’ to study the strange and prehistoric flora and fauna. But the purple haze that surrounds the island was supposed to prevent anything from leaving the island through the air. I’d better call the Femforce to track the ‘dactyl before it causes a lot of damage to Florida. Then I’ll hightail it over to Taragonia to find out whats going on.”
From the offices on Jungle island Tara enters a special code into the vid-monitor and contacts the Femforce, finding the She-cat on monitor duty. “And if you can take care of the problem state-side, I’ll call as soon as I know what’s happening on Taragonia,” Tara finishes explaining.
“Right,” She-cat says. “I’ll contact Ms. Victory. She should be in the vicinity your calculations showed the pteradactyl will be arriving on shore. Good luck, and if it turns out you can’t handle your end just let me know and the Cat will come bail your backside out—again.”
“Uh-right. Thanks!” And with that Tara switches off and prepares for her flight to Taragonia.
Landing her helicopter on the patch of barren land that has been designated as a landing field, Tara is met by Nyoka Gordon, Cave Girl, and Tygra. These four women, along with Princess Pantha, were sent to Taragonia to figure out what, if any, effect governmental nuclear testing had on the island. What they found was a lot more than anyone expected.
The ecological system had gone haywire. They found prehistoric creatures, mythological beings, man-eating plants, and all manner of strange phenomenon. They also dicovered, with Nightveil’s help, that the island was a nexus of an evil occult power and a dimensional gateway to the Earth’s past and future, as well as other dimensions, created by Doctor Shinduu and his magical concubines. Doctor Shinduu was destroyed when he tried to fly through the strange atmosphere surrounding the island but the concubines, led byVarushka, remain on the island.
“Hi, girls!” Tara calls as she steps from the ‘copter. “Where’s Pantha?”
“Not sure,” Cave Girl, the large Jungle beauty replies in her usual broken English. “Not seen for some time.”
Tygra, the scantily clad biologist of the group joins in,”Yeah, we hardly ever see her anymore. She started showing more and more interest in the strange animals on the island and we started seeing less and less of her. It’s almost as if she isn’t even here anymore. She doesn’t even come back to the complex at night to sleep anymore.”
“If you want, I’ll help you guys find her later, but first we’ve got to figure out how a pteradactyl could have possibly left the island without dying!” Tara says, not wanting to wait on niceties.
“Oh, no!” Nyoka exclaims shaking her head. “I was afraid of something like this. At first, I thought I might just be seeing things, but I thought I could see some faint, almost imperceptable lines in the purple atmosphere. I did a few studies, and sure enough, there were gaps in the protective zone, and they’ve been getting more noticeable. Look for yourself.”
Sure enough, after having it pointed out to her, Tara thought she could also see the lines. “But… why? What could cause this to happen? Why would the barrier have lasted all these centuries and all of a sudden dissipate now?” “Well, I have a theory about that, as well,” Nyoka continues. “The lines are straight and seem to follow patterns. I think that every time a plane or some other mechanical structure flies through the atmospheric layer that looks purple to us, it cuts a line through whatever it is in the ozone that keeps everything in. Then if something, say the pteradactyl you mentioned, would by chance follow one of the tunnels it would get free to the outside world.”
“That seems as plausible as anything else, I guess,” Tara admits, “but right now we need to figure out what we’re going to do to prevent this sort of thing from happening again!”
Nyoka pauses and then tells Tara, “It sounds nuts, but I think I know where all the strange beings on this island come from. Maybe we can cut off the source instead of just containing the problem.”
“Nothing about this island will surprise me anymore,” says Tara. “What have you found?”
“During your absence, I became bothered by the fact that so many different eras and dimensions could be represented in such a confined area. So I started tracing all the different atmospheric and dimensional disruptions I could find. For a while they would show up anywhere at anytime, but then they started congregating at one place.”
“And that place is?”
“The core of the inactive volcano that sits directly behind our home complex. There are strange swirling patches of darkness scattered all over the interior walls that I believe to be dimensional doorways. Any time someone or something accidentally steps through the portals, whether they did so before or after the doorways were in the volcano, they wound up here. I really can’t verify any of this as I haven’t dared so much as to even touch one until my studies are completed, but I have thrown rocks and sticks at them and they’ve disappeared.”
“We better go take a look,” Tara asserts. “It may be time to take the risk and enter one.”
* * *
Hearing the situation from She-cat, Ms. Victory immediately heads for the Florida coast in the general direction from which the pteradactyl was predicted to come. She spots the coastline and the pteradactyl at just about the exact same moment. So much for having time to work on a plan of action, she thinks to herself.
Figuring that a direct approach would be best with a populated city so close by, she angles her flight pattern directly for the beast, arms outstretched, and prepares for the collision. To her surprise just before contact the pteradactyl changes course just enough that it caught just a glancing blow and then continued on toward the city.
Man! How could something that big move so fast! Ms. Victory wondered as she banked for another blow at the creature.
Closing in at bone-jarring speeds she prepared herself for another quick maneuver by the pteradactyl. Watching for a shift in direction Ms. Victory shot right past the pteradactyl as he came to a sudden dead stop. She didn’t so much as touch it. There’s definately something wrong here, she thinks, pulling up to a stop. This thing’s much too smart for being a mere dinosa—
From behind, the behemouth smashes full force into her back, knocking the breath from her. Becoming temporarily disoriented, Ms. Victory begins plummeting toward the ground. She tries desperately to regain her composure before she hits the gound but unfortunately she hadn’t been very high to start with. She hits the ground with such force that she leaves a furrow behind her twenty feet long before coming to a stop. Oooh, that hurt. I sure wasn’t expecting that. I’ve got to pull myself together. That was a planned maneuver the likes of which a dinosaur with normal intelligence would be incapable of. Also, to be able to beat me around like that, I’m not real sure that there wouldn’t have to be some kind of magic involved. Where’s Nightveil when you really need her? Well, no time for that kind of thinking. We’re right by the city, I’ve got to stop him now.
Taking to the air, Ms. Victory realizes they are closer than she even thought. And to make matters worse–the pteradactyl is nowhere to be seen!
* * *
The old, burned-out volcano has so many cracks and crevices running through it that gaining access to it’s core poses no problem what so ever for the girls. But once inside, Tara is totally unprepared for what she sees. An eerie green luminence radiates from the walls giving plenty of light, but the truly captivating sight is that of the portals all over those self same walls. There has to be hundreds of them and they are so completely black that they seem to suck any light in the immediate vicinity into them, while at the same time, they contradictingly swirl at a mind-numbing pace.
“I tried to tell you there were a lot of them,” says Nyoka.
“I know,” Tara says in a hushed, almost reverent tone, “but seeing it is deffinately different than hearing about it.”
Even speaking quietly, the cavernous interior of the volcano was so large, that echoes seemed to go on for several seconds (as did any sounds of steps or rustling noises caused by any of the four girls).
“What we do now?” asks Cave Girl in her deep but incredibly sexy voice.
After a slight hesitation, Tara responds, “I guess the only thing we can do. If we’re going to check Nyoka’s theories, one of us is going to have to enter one of the portals. I’ve never been the kind to ask someone to do something I’m not willing to, so I’ll go first.”
“I don’t think so,” protests Tygra, barely able to contain her feline enthusiasm.
“I didn’t ask,” says Tara, “and it’s my island. I make the calls. Thanks for the concern but if we’re right about this thing there’ll be plenty of doorways for everyone.” Warily she closes in on the first black hole. “We’ll see what’s on the other side of each doorway. If it’s a harmless enough place we can simply mark the wall as to what’s over there. But if it contains something dangerous we’ll have to try to find a way to close or block the passage way.”
“What if I’m wrong?” asks Nyoka. “What if the second you touch that swirling mass you’re torn atom from atom?”
With a forced smile she answers, “Don’t think that hasn’t crossed my mind but it’s something we have to know. I’m sure I’ll be right back.” She picks up a rope. “I’ll leave this rope I brought sticking through the portal just in case it can’t be seen from the other side.”
As she gets right up next to the portal, electrical static causes her hair to stand out from the head. She’s still nervously talking as she inserts her upper body into the doorway. “Boy, does this feel weir….”. Immediately Tara pulls herself out of the window, coughing and gagging. She’s soaked from the waist up. “I was expecting (cough, cough) air on the other side (cough) not water. I feel like I swallowed an ocean full!”
Walking toward the portal Tara just tried Nyoka says, “It looks like this one is mine then.”
“And why would that be?” inquires Tara, wringing water from her hair.
“Because I’m the only one here that can breathe underwater.” Seeing the confused look on Tara’s face she continues. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t heard. Shortly after we got here I almost drowned off shore and the mermaids rescued me by enabling me to breathe in or out of water. I’ll tell you all about it sometime but for now, I have a job to do.” And with that statement, she disappears through the portal, trailing the rope behind her.
chapter 2
WHAT’S BLACK AND BLUE AND WET ALL OVER
Immediately upon passing through the portal, Nyoka finds herself immersed in water. There is plenty of light so she doesn’t figure she is too deep, but there is no dry land in sight. Of course that doesn’t mean anything she thinks. If you entered Earth in the middle of an ocean there wouldn’t be any dry land in sight either.
Nyoka starts swimming north (because that’s just as good as any other direction when you don’t have a clue what you’re looking for) and starts shedding her clothes down to her ‘civvies’. I’ll probably lose my clothes but that’s what I get for not thinking ahead enough to change into some kind of swimwear.
Topping an embankment, Nyoka sees her first signs of life. An overwhelmingly large city, built right on the ocean floor, with no apparent protection (be it a protective dome or visible guards or any of the things she had preconcieved she would see, if she found anything at all). That certainly didn’t take long. In fact, I….
“Halt,” comes a loud, deep voice from behind as Nyoka feels a knife point (spear point?) jab her in the back. She jumps just enough to draw blood from the weapon at her back.
“Oww! What the crap do you think you’re do….,” Nyoka fades out as she turns and sees a huge, muscular mer-man, long red hair and beard floating around his stern face, holding an extremely large and deadly looking spear directly at her.
“You don’t belong here. What are you doing, spying on us?” he asks.
Feeling a little of her resolve coming back, Nyoka snaps back, “I’m not a spy. You hurt me with that thing. You ought to be a little more careful waving something like that around at people before you know the situation.” She slaps the spear aside but it is immediately retrained on her with a little jabbing motion for emphasis. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you, Little Minnow, but you’re the tresspasser, and since I’m the one with the spear, maybe you should be a little careful,” the mer-man asserts, a deffinate threat in his voice.
You best back off, Nyoka she thinks to herself. “Point well taken. I honestly meant no harm or disrespect. My name is Nyoka. I’m from another place. I really don’t know how else to explain it. Any way, there’s a type of dimensional doorway from your world to mine. Where I’m from ‘mer-people’, or whatever you call yourselves, only exist in mythology, except on the one island where we found the doorway leading here. I figure this is where those mer-maids came from. Except there were only women there. No men. So I’m not really not sure that this is where they come from after all.”
“By Poseidon’s beard, Little One..”
“My name is Nyoka!”
“Fine. Nyoka. Do you always talk so much?
“Only when large fish-men…”
“My name is Volstaff!”
“Fine. Volstaff. Only when extremely sharp weapons are being pointed toward my throat.
“Oh,” Volstaff blushes slightly and chuckles, lowering the spear but, Nyoka notices, he stays ready to snap it back to position if the need arises. “Sorry, Nyoka, but we are a people always at war. And since I truly do not know you, it is only wise to first assume that you are the enemy.”
“I can understand that,” Nyoka conceeded. “What I don’t understand is why you accepted my story so readily. If I heard a story like that I’m not sure I’d even begin to believe it.”
“We’ve known of the ‘reality hole’ for all of recorded history. Like I said, we are a people of war, but every once in a while one of those weak scientist types, almost always a woman, opposes the natural order and tries to stop the fighting. When found out, in order to stop the persecution, they try to escape through the hole. We’re usually able to kill them before they get through but on occassion one will make it. I’m sure that’s who you encountered.” Raising his spear slightly again, Volstaff asks, “They didn’t send you here did they?”
Holding her hands out in supplication Nyoka denies the allegation. But before the conversation can proceed a laser bolt strikes a rock mere inches from Nyoka’s head, a splinter of stone cutting a paper thin slice across her cheek. Volstaff grabs her by the arm throwing her behind an outcropping, safe from the sniper’s fire.
Rubbing her face as a thin wisp of blood oozes from her cheek, Nyoka starts feeling a little irritable, “You know, Volstaff, I’m getting a little tired of losing small chunks of flesh, what with everybody stabbing me, shooting at me and throwing me around. I don’t even belon…”
“Zounds, woman,” Volstaff yells,beginning to lose a little patience himself. Don’t you ever shut up? We’re under enemy fire here. Let me think, will you?”
“Uh, Volstaff,” starts Nyoka.
“I said shut up!” growls Volstaff.
Nyoka points, “But, Volstaff…!”
Volstaff looks up, finding them surrounded by twenty five heavily armed and angry looking mer-men. And every weapon is pointed directly at them.
“By Poseidon’s Golden Trident!” Volstaff mutters softly as he drops his spear and raises his hands.
* * *
Ms. Victory flies through the streets as fast as she dares, looking for the pteradactyl. There’s no way something so big could just disappear like that. It’s got to be around here somewhere.
And indeed, just a few blocks away in a section of town just a little less savory than the one Ms. Victory finds herself looking, the pteradactyl is confronting a homeless man in a shadow darkened alley. The look of fear on the man’s face exceeds even the smell of booze on the man’s breath and the stink of urine in his clothes.
Do not be afraid, mortal the pteradactyl communicates directly into the wino’s mind. This will be over soon and I have much better plans for your body than you obviously did.
As the great creature closes in on him, the man suddenly wraps his arms around his head and starts screaming and writhing as if being torn to pieces. And rightly so, as his soul is being ripped from his body. Making a last desperate effort to hang on to his humanity, his soul grabs just a little tighter before losing the last of it’s grip. Then with a shriek that totally drowns out the previous screams, it’s over. The displaced soul dissapates leaving behind an empty husk. But before the empty body can fall it is reinhabited. The eyes now hold the evil malice previously held in the eyes of the pteradactyl. And in the pteradactyl’s eyes, nothing but the confused , animalistic rage of a beast, wounded and backed into a corner. As it takes to the sky to vent it’s primal fury, the only thing remaining in the alley is the cold maniacal laughter of a man no longer there.
Ms. Victory turns in mid-flight as she hears the screams of someone in exquisite pain. But before she can get there she hears an ungodly shriek followed a few seconds later by new screams of pain and terror just a block further on. She seems to hear a laugh echo from the direction she had been heading but disreguards it as being the wind, whistling between the buildings. Arriving at her destination, Ms. Victory goes numb with horror.
A large camp for the homeless has been rent from end to end. Body parts are strewn the length of the alley. What appears to be more blood than could have possibly come from the assorted bodies laying around covers everything, including the only thing left living in the alley. The blood and gore splattered pteradactyl picks through the remaining pieces of flesh left laying around it, swallowing gobbets of the meat.
Feeling the need to throw up, Ms. Victory takes a stumbling step forward, the sound alerting the creature to her presence. It spins and for a split second locks eyes with her. Something about the pteradactyl looks different but her current sence of shock fails to allow her to acknowledge the fact. The beast takes flight as Ms. Victory gathers herself, fighting both the nausea and the coldness thathas claimed her since first arriving on the scene.
Taking to the air, Ms. Victory realizes she has given the behemoth quite a lead but has resolved to make up the distance, however quickly it takes, to prevent the last scene of horror from ever happening again. But then the pteradactyl pulls up and just hovers. Floating directly in it’s path is Paragon, one of the most powerful paranormals in the universe.
“My gosh, Joan!” exclaims Paragon, taking in the gore-encrusted pteradactyl and the shocked, pallid look on Ms. Victory’s face; the haunted look in her eyes.
“This…this abomination,” she stammered, trying to control her emotions, “just massacred an alley full of people!” Unable to stop them, tears begin flowing down her face and her body shakes in great sobs. “He was eating them, for God’s sake!” she screamed.
The pteradactyl jumps when she yells but otherwise doesn’t move, not knowing what to do.
“Let me handle him real quickly and then I’m taking you out of here,” Paragon tries to soothe her.
“No, Chuck, wait! He’s really intelligent and he’ll allow you to get in real close and then he’ll duck under your attack and escape,” Ms. Victory says, almost within herself.
But it’s too late. Paragon is already rushing full speed toward the beast, his arms outstretched, fists closed. Without so much as a flinch, the pteradactyl takes the blow directly on it’s beak and falls like a rock to the pavement below.
“No! I don’t understand. He is really smart,” Ms. Victory cries. “He dodged me everytime I tried to hit him. Really! He’s smart!”
“It’s okay, Joan,” Paragon tries to comfort her. “We’ll work everything out.”
But Ms. Victory won’t stop, “No, Chuck. Don’t you get it? If he’s not as smart as I thought, if he really wasn’t able to trick me, then I just allowed all those innocent people to get killed!”
* * *
Back in the volcano, the girls are all staring at the portal that swallowed Nyoka. Each is unconsciously holding her breath, hoping to hear quickly from their friend. Tara suddenly speaks, startling everyone and causing them to remember to breathe. “If we just stand here waiting like this it’ll just drive us crazy. The old ‘watched pot never boils’ syndrome. She won’t return any quicker with us waiting like this so let’s find something to do until she get’s back.”
“Like what?” inquires Cave Girl.
Tygra intercedes, “Actually, there are some plants right outside the volcano that I’d like some help collecting to study. They are unlike any plants I’ve ever seen anywhere else and I’ve been meaning to examine them for quite some time.”
As the girls go outside to help Tygra , inside the volcano a figure seperates itself from the shadows. I didn’t think they would ever leave long enough for me to do what I have too. Under no circumstances can I allow them to close off any of these doorways. The figure grabs the rope sticking out of the portal and tosses the whole thing through. Now they can’t close this one or they’ll be stranding Nyoka on the other side.
* * *
With their hands bound behind them, Nyoka and Volstaff are led toward the city of the ‘dark-hairs’. “You mean to tell me,” asks Nyoka astounded, “that the only reason you and your enemies have for killing each other is the fact that they have black hair and your people have red?”
“Yes,” answers Volstaff in short fashion, apparently not in the mood for conversation.
“And this is worth having a war over?” continues Nyoka, anyway.
Volstaff gives her a tired look, understanding any attempt at getting her to stop talking to him would be futile. “Is there a point to any of this?”
“No wonder those women tried to escape this insanity.”
“Look, wench,” Volstaff explodes. “I’ve had just about all of you that I….OW!” A spear point in the side settles him back down.
Nyoka smiles, “You see. That doesn’t feel too good, does it?”
“That’s it.” Volstaff says quietly to himself. Then, with a deep breath, he emits the loud, high-pitched screech of a dolphin. He throws himself down, taking Nyoka with him.
Suddenly the water blackens and screams of dying men fill the area, as a sixty-foot monstrosity of an octopus comes around an underwater embankment and begins tearing the unsuspecting mer-men to pieces. Volstaff pulls Nyoka into a small, camoflaged cave to wait out the carnage.
The screams continue on and on, and Nyoka is forced to close her eyes against the massacre, even though it cannot be seen from their safe haven. Slowly the dying cries fade and the two slowly emerge from the cave. Nyoka sees it was really not much more than a small indention in the side of the mountain. “What just happened?” she asks, visibly shaken.
“It’s one of our prearranged contingency plans,” explains Volstaff. We have several traps around in case the Dark Ones attack. I signalled with the dolphin cry and the octopus was sent in.”
“But how?” Nyoka is clearly confused and still shaken. “Do you possess some kind of telepathy or something that it obeys?”
Volstaff laughs, “No, Little One. We have no such powers. I guess it’s all right to let you know, now. The women I mentioned, the scientists, have a device they created that allows them to control all the creatures of the sea.”
“And there was no other way? I mean, these men were mutilated beyond recognition. Couldn’t we have…?”
“There was no other way,” interrupted Volstaff. “Believe me. What they had planned for us was at least that bad.”
“Yeah, but….Hey! Wait a minute. Why would the scientists let you have their machine if you persecute them?” Nyoka wants to know.
Nyoka whirls around as she hears giggling behind her. Seven beautiful mer-maids are swimming toward her and Volstaff. The nearest one, obviously the leader of the group says, “Okay, Volstaff. You’ve played the ‘bad fish’ long enough.” Then to Nyoka, “Volstaff has been secretly helping us to escape for years, despite a sure death sentence if he’s caught. I’m not sure any of our sisters would have been successful in their escape attempts without his help. Despite his demeanor, he’s really a big, old softie!”
Volstaff mumbles something unheard under his breath and turns a bright red, obviously not appreciating the mer-maid’s assessment of him (at least not outwardly). It’s all Nyoka can do not to laugh in the big mer-man’s face as all the pretty mer-maids start oohing-and-aahing over him. This adds even more to his discomfort and embarrassment.
Trying hard to not think of the slaughter she was just surrounded by, Nyoka tries to smile. “While all this has been great, I think I’d better be getting back home now.”
As they approach the area where the portal leads to her own world, Nyoka notices the rope laying on the ground. “Oh, no! I had that rope marking the way out of here.”
“Not to worry, friend Nyoka. Our nexus locator will have you on your way before yoy know it,” says the mer-maid who had started the teasing on Volstaff. She produces a small device (Nyoka has no idea from where, considering her lack of clothing) and as she turns a centralized knob, the dimensional doorway seems to materialize from thin air. “We have more, so please take this,” she says handing the box to Nyoka. “If you should ever return, you can use it to find your way home.”
“Thank you all, very much. I hope to visit again soon. I have some very powerful friends who would be more than happy to help you with your situation here,” offers Nyoka.
“Well, girlie,” Volstaff growls, trying to regain some of his stolen dignity, “if you want to check back later that would be greatly appreciated, but for now I feel like we need to handle this ourselves.”
Nyoka grins, “Between these resourceful young women and yourself, I’d bet on your side everytime, Volstaff. Waving as she passes through the portal, Nyoka disappears from the dimension of the mer-people.
* * *
Nyoka is greeted by her friends, who have gathered back inside the volcano after gathering the strange plants that Tygra wanted.
Rats thinks the hidden figure as it slowly fades back further into the darkness. I don’t know how she found her way back out without the rope but now I’ll have to do whatever I must to prevent them from closing the doorway.
Completely unaware of the person’s presence in the shadows, the girls rush up to Nyoka, a thousand questions on their lips. “I’ll tell the whole story after I get a shower and get dried off,” Nyoka says, dripping on the cavern floor. “But, there are some brave people on the other side whose very lives depend on this doorway staying open. We absolutely can not close it.”
Yes! I won’t have to intervene after all thinks the figure as it disappears completely in the stygian depths of the tunnels. At least not yet.
chapter three
JUNGLE FEVER
Having just passed through a portal, Cave Girl, wearing the nexus locator on a belt Nyoka made for it, finds herself in the lush, humid atmosphere of a dark jungle. Cave Girl like already she thinks to herself. The thick undergrowth would make it next to impossible for a normal person to walk through but Cave Girl handles it with ease. Just as the heat and humidity of the jungle would sap almost anyone else’s strength in a matter of minutes, Cave Girl seems to thrive in it. Makes me miss home. The roars and rustles heard both near and far visibly relax her even though, until her arrival, Cave Girl didn’t realize how tense civilization had made her.
A loud roar sounds directly behind Cave Girl and she turns just in time to avoid a giant claw from cutting her in two. A saber-toothed lion with back arched ready to pounce, teeth bared in a feral snarl, a deep growl rumbling from it’s chest, and saliva flowing from it’s mouth, is staring her in the eyes. Cave Girl, an extremely tall woman in her own rights, barely has to look down to meet the creatures eyes, even with it being on all four legs.
Without skipping a beat, Cave Girl falls back into her old role of jungle girl. Faster than the saber-tooth can follow, she executes a perfect forward flip with a half twist to land astride the beast’s neck. Easily avoiding the maddened swipes of the lion’s claws, Cave Girl presses the temples of the cat’s massive head causing it to scream in pain. It’s efforts to claw her away increase ten-fold until slowly they diminish and the creature falls to the ground unconscious.
Barely breathing hard from the exertion, Cave Girl walks away from the struggle as if battling a two-ton cat is nothing out of the ordinary. She had heard a clamor to the south during the last few seconds of the wrestling match and her curiosity over-rides any second thoughts she might have given the saber-tooth.
The jungle is so dense, Cave Girl is almost on top of the scene before she sees it. A tall, lean, muscular man, clothed in nothing but the smallest of loin cloths, is holding a velociraptor at bay with a very crude looking spear. Gorgeous is Cave Girls only thought as she looks the jungle man over. She starts to call out some advice to him on how to bring the dinosaur down but decides, under the circumstances, distracting the man might not be the best of ideas.
As it turns out, she didn’t need to worry. Snapping the spear in two with it’s incredibly strong jaws, the velociraptor slowly approaches it’s prey, feeling the man is now helpless against it’s superior strength. Then with a movement so swift that neither the ‘raptor nor Cave Girl sees it, the jungle lord pulls a foot long dagger from the strap of his loin cloth and plunges it into the dinosaurs throat. The velociraptor fights on for a few seconds not realizing that it is already dead, then it’s eyes glaze over and it falls to the ground.
Cave Girl steps into the clearing, too quiet, she thinks, to be heard. But the man turns with the same quickness he had used to dispatch the velociraptor, and brings his spear up, ready to defend himself. Seeing the beautiful woman (instead of the imagined male of a foreign tribe attempting to steal the newly won meal his tribe desperately needs) the tension leaves his body and he lowers his spear. “Very dangerous to sneak up on Kazan while still under battle-lust,” the large man says.
His long blond hair, tangled with sweat and blowing in his face, gorgeous was still the only word Cave Girl could think of to describe him.
“Cave Girl not sneaking, just quiet,” explains Cave Girl.
Kazan turns back to the dinosaur. Not recieving a reply, Cave Girl asks, “Would Kazan like help carrying your meat?”
He snears at her, “Kazan does not need the help of a woman!” He bends and wraps the legs of the velociraptor around one shoulder and the arms around the other. Being careful not to cut himself on the creature’s claws he lifts the dinosaur with a mighty heave. “See woman, Kazan needs help from no one,” he says, clearly showing off. But just as clear is the strain Kazan is under from carrying such weight.
Cave Girl can not resist a smile st the display of machismo and the apparent hurt Kazan is putting on himself. Then, after a few struggling steps Kazan can not help but drop his catch. Cave Girl breaks out laughing, at the obvious displeasure of Kazan, despite an all out effort not to.
“Go ahead and laugh, woman,” the last word meant in a derrogatory manner. “At least Kazan is powerful enough to lift such a beast. Not a weak woman like yourself.”
“Cave Girl not a weak woman,” Cave Girl says brushing past Kazan. She easily lifts the beast over one shoulder. “Cave Girl strong woman. Now, which way we go?”
Kazan is stunned to see such strength in a ‘mere’ woman. He just nods and points south. “That way,” he says quietly, barely able to find his voice.
* * *
Walking through the alleyways, the former wino gloats over the ease of his escape from Taragonia. To think those Bimbos thought me destroyed so easily. When my body was rent asunder by the atmosphere surrounding their island, I merely transported my soul into the body of a nearby flying beast. Then all I had to do was bide my time until opportunity presented me with a means of escape. As lines were cut through the sky by various means I seized the chance to fly through one of the tunnels created in the purple heavens so that now I, Doctor Shinduu, have returned to once again conquer all I survey! Evil laughter once again fills the canyon like alleys of the city as Doctor Shinduu disappears into the darkness.
* * *
After delivering the stunned pteradactyl to the Orlando Zoo for safe-keeping. Paragon takes a no-longer hysterical, but still distraught Ms. Victory back to Femforce headquarters. Nightveil, having taken over monitoring duty from She-cat, meets the pair as they enter the compound. Emotionally drained, it doesn’t take Ms. Victory long to fall asleep once in the comfort of her own bed.
“So, what’s wrong with Joan, Paragon? I’ve gotten several reports of her subduing a pteradactyl but I didn’t get any specifics,” says Nightveil. “What gives?”
“What gives,” Paragon turns on the witch for what he mistakenly percieves as a cold, uncaring attitude directed at the woman he loves, “is that Vickie arrived too late to save a community of street people from that creature. For some reason she’s blaming herself for the whole slaughter and quite frankly I don’t appreciate your flippant attitude toward her after all she’s been through!”
“Wait a minute, Paragon! I didn’t mean anything by…”
But Paragon is in no mood to listen to anyone, “I really couldn’t care less what you meant. I don’t have time for this right now. Joan needs me.”
Controlling her temper with a great deal of effort, Nightveil isn’t about to be pushed aside without a second thought. “C’mon, Chuck! You’ve known me way too long to believe I’m any less concerned for her than you are. But right now she needs sleep far more than she needs you and there’s obviously a problem here that needs to be dealt with. Please…calm down and tell me, as the friend I’ve always been able to depend upon, exactly what’s going on.”
* * *
“Hello? Cave Girl? Is anyone here?” The girls, again waiting inside the volcano for Cave Girl to re-emerge from a portal, immediately recognize the deep, resonant voice of Strong Man. The loin-clothed muscle man commonly known as ‘the world’s strongest human being’ has been coming to Taragonia more and more often to spend time with Cave Girl.
Tara sticks her head out of the crevice they’ve been using to enter the volcano, and spotting him outside their island compound, waves him in. “Over here, Strong Man.”
As he enters the cool interior of the cavern he notices that Cave Girl is not with them. “Have any of you ladies seen C.G.?”
“We felt the need to explore the worlds beyond these dimensional doorways,” Tygra volunteers, “and right now Cave Girl is in that one right there.” She points to one of the swirling gateways.
“Why her?” Strong Man wants to know, despite his earnest effort not to slip into a natural protectiveness of the woman he has come to care so strongly for. He understands that this is the nineties, but he is from the fifties where believing the man is always needed for protection was not just accepted but expected.
“I went into the first doorway,” Nyoka says placatingly. Now totally dry, you wouldn’t know she had just been through any kind of ordeal if not for the occasional bruise and cut.
Ignorring Nyoka completely, he turns to Tara. “And you condone this recklessness? You are in charge of this island, aren’t you?”
Not wanting to feel like she owes an explanation for her actions, Tara gives one anyway. “We’ve encountered some pretty strange things while on this island, as you well know. One of the more dangerous ones escaped and we decided it was time we did something about it!” Even as she says it the explanation sounds kind of weak, even to her. She doesn’t suppose it sounds any better to a love-smitten hero from the fifties. She is real glad as Strong Man slowly nods his head, contemplating what he was just told.
“How long has she been in there?” he asks, edging closer to the specified hole.
“Not long. About fifteen minutes,” Tara guesses.
“Maybe I should check on her,” Strong Man says.
Tara shakes her head, “I really don’t think that’s a very good idea. She has a nexus locator to find her way back. If you should happen not to find her, you could be trapped there forever.” She tries to take his arm and lead gently lead him from the gateway.
Having none of it Strong Man pulls his arm from Tara’s grasp. “I’ll find her. And if not, she’ll come back for me.” Without another thought he steps through the doorway.
* * *
“That’s some story,” exclaims Nightveil after Paragon relays the recent events as best he could piece together from Ms. Victory’s ramblings. “And I fear she’s right.. Something just doesn’t sound quite right about that kind of behavior from a pteradactyl.”
“I just hope there really is something to her story and it’s not just some kind of mental lapse due to her inability to cope with the disaster,” says Paragon.
Nightveil’s voice takes a slight cold tone, “Really, Charles! You should know better than I, that Joan is made too tough for such foolishness. No! Something is amiss and I have a feeling it’s something we best not ignore. Mind the store for me, will you Paragon? I have some investigating to do.” Without waiting for an answer, Nightveil waves her cape around herself with a flamboyant flair and disappears with a slight wisp of smoke.
“Sure thing, Nightveil,” Paragon answers, though no one is listening.
* * *
The first thing Strong Man hears upon clearing the portal is the sound of Cave Girl’s voice, “Now, which way we go?”
Not believing his incredible luck he starts to call out to her but hears another, deeper (although decidedly more quiet) voice , “That way.”
Quietly, Strong Man makes his way toward the voices just in time to see Cave Girl and a muscular, barely clothed man leave a clearing and head into the jungle, a dinosaur in tow. Curiosity setting in, and not just a small amount of jealously, Strong Man decides to follow the pair for awhile. He doesn’t go far bfore he is able to see Cave Girl again and is almost ready to call to her for a second time when the man accompanying her suddenly grabs her and pulls her around to face him.
“Kazan like powerful woman. Want you for mate.” He kisses her with such force and passion that Cave Girl is temporarily stunned into inactivity.
She didn’t even try to stop him, thinks Strong Man. Maybe I’ve waited too long to let her know how I truly feel abut her. He starts to turn and leave when the sound of the velociraptor being dropped causes him to look back in the direction of the couple. Expecting to see more of what he just witnessed, Strong Man is shocked when Cave Girl curls her fist and delivers a haymaker to the jaw of Kazan, lifting the large man a full eight inches off the ground.. He lands hard, holding his jaw and looking at Cave Girl in disbelief.
“What you hit Kazan for!” he wants to know.
“Sorry,” Cave Girl says, honestly not having meant to hit him. “You caught me by surprise. Should not kiss Cave Girl, anyway. I already have man that I love.”
Hearing Cave Girl’s declaration causes Strong Man’s heart to soar, but he also realizes she must tell him when she’s ready. He decides to slip away, back to the vicinity of the portal and hopefully find it, but as he happily turns he comes eye to eye with what appears to be a six foot tall Tyranosaurus Rex. A small roar comes from the dinosaur’s throat as a set of very powerful jaws snap in his direction.
If that’s what I think it is, they’re not nearly as big as I was lead to believe. As the T-Rex takes another bite at Strong Man he swings a powerful blow into it’s snout staggering the beast, even if only for a moment. Shaking it’s head, the T=Rex becomes enraged and lunges at the muscle man, claws slashing and teeth clashing. Strong Man barely has time to avoid the attack, but answers it instinctively with the same ferocity. Before he realizes he’s doing it, Strong Man has hold of the dinosaur, upper teeth in his right hand, lower teeth in his left and pulls until the sound of bones breaking signifies the end of the battle has arrived. I didn’t even hardly work up a sweat, he thinks dropping his prey. What a disappointment. I was expecting a little more from a dinosaur from listening to Cave Girl’s description of them.
He turns to find himself looking at the thigh of an exact duplicate of the dinosaur he just fought, only three times the size. “Oh, no! Cave Girl!!!” Strong Man yells as he jumps to the side, missing being bitten in half by the narrowest of margins.
* * *
“Strong Man?” Cave Girl calls, rushing toward the cry for help. What’s he doing here? she wonders. Rounding a bend in the trail she has been following, she sees Strong Man laying on the ground, trying to keep out of harms way as a Tyranosaurus Rex takes several bites at him. She sees the dead baby rex and immediately understands the situation. There will be no stopping the mother from exacting revenge short of killing her.
Heedless of her own danger, she launches herself at the T-Rex, landing astride it’s snout, looking it square in the eyes. Momentarily forgetting Strong Man, the dinosaur emits a deaffening roar, easily heard throughout the entire valley. Undeterred by the noise, or the violent shaking of it’s head, Cave Girl pulls her dagger from the belt holding the nexus locator, and plunges it into the beast’s left eye.
The dagger is not long enough to reach the brain or to cause any fatal damage. The pain sends the Tyranosaurus into a feral, mindless thrashing, dislodging Cave Girl, sending her to slam solidly into the base of a tree.
Cave Girl’s interference has given Strong Man time to regain his feet, but seeing his beloved thrown into the tree, maybe severely hurt (maybe even dead) sends him into a bloodlust like he’s never known before. Yelling like a maddened beast himself, Strong Man charges headlong toward the creature. So intent is he on retribution, he fails to notice the slashing tail until it is too late. The tail catches him solid in the chest, knocking the breath from him and breaking a few ribs. Horror overcomes him as he realizes the dinosaur is turning toward the (hopefully) unconscious form of Cave Girl and he is unable to get up in time to prevent it from getting her.
Suddenly, from somewhere behind him, a crude looking spear flashes by, burying itself three feet into the ruined eye that Cave Girl’s dagger is still sticking out of. As the Tyranosaurus falls forward, pushing the rest of the spear through it’s already impaled brain, Strong Man whirls his head around to see Kazan. A bruise is already forming on his jaw.
Finding his feet, although he has never hurt nearly as much as he does now, Strong Man rushes to Cave Girl’s side. She is already stirring as he arrives but it is clear she is badly hurt. Gently picking her up, Strong Man walks over to Kazan. “I owe you more than I can ever repay,” he says, grasping one of Kazan’s hands, being careful not to jostle Cave Girl too much. “But my lady is badly hurt and I have to take her back where we came from for help.”
Without so much as a backward glance, Strong Man takes the nexus locator from Cave Girl’s belt and turns the switch. (Luckily there is only one switch.) Going back to the area he first entered this dimension, he finds the swirling blackness and carries them through.
* * *
Tara, Nyoka, and Tygra are all waiting as Strong Man arrives, Cave Girl craddled in his arms.
“What’s wrong with her?” cries Tygra.
“She needs help, NOW!” Strong Man heads for the infirmary, the three girls following closely on his heels. Tara calls ahead on her cellular phone to make sure the medical staff is ready.
As soon as Cave Girl is being taken care of, Strong Man relays their adventure as best he can considering his difficulty in keeping focussed on anything but the medical proceedings.
The girls depart the infirmary, leaving Strong Man behind to stay with Cave Girl. As they re-enter the volcano, all are in agreement that this particular portal definately needs closing. “So the only question now is, how do we go about closing it?”
“The answer to that is simple, my friends,” comes a voice they all know well but have not heard for awhile. They all turn in unison to find Princess Pantha stepping from the shadows of a tunnel, gun in hand, “you don’t.”
chapter four
ANOTHER FINE MESS
Following the trail of evil, eminating from the alley where the slaughter occurred, Nightveil is sure she is closing in on the end of the trail. The sense of wickedness has become so strong I must be veritably on top of the vile perpetrator she thinks. But just as the aura of evil is just about to overcome her, it suddenly ceases. In it’s place words seemingly begin to form from thin air, right in front of her.
Nightveil – I knew you would come searching for me so I left this message for you (No one else has the ability to see this). Since learning of your incredible powers I have long since desired to match sorcerous abilities with you. But not now. I’m tired from the transformations and the chase your friend gave me. But remember this! When you least expect it you will find yourself challenged like no challenge you have ever faced before. So swears the mighty Dr. Shinduu!!
The words slowly fade leaving Nightveil without any traceable path to follow. But she swears she can hear an evil laughter echoing over and over again in the back of her mind.
* * *
“So, what’s with the gun, Pantha?” Tara asks.
Not being able to percieve any concern from Tara’s attitude (as well as Tygra’s and Nyoka’s) Pantha visibly becomes a little edgy, not truly wanting to have to use the gun. “That’s Princess Pantha, little miss rich girl. Although I can undertand how you can forget that considering the state of my country.”
Clearly confused, Nyoka questions her. “What in the world are you going on about?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” spits Pantha. “You’ve never been the ruler of a country. Well, I have and it was a country with a proud, rich heritage. But then I was frozen in that cursed vault of Dr. Weir’s. Sure, I was given the country back but it sure wasn’t how I left it. There is no money, and no pride left. The villagers are down trodden, living in filth, barely being able to find enough to eat. And it breaks my heart to see my once proud people living in such squalid conditions!”
Hurting for her friend, Tara exclaims, “Why didn’t you let us know the situation. We’ll do anything we can to help.”
“If you truly cared, you would have seen it for yourself,” Pantha yells, her rage growing with her story. Do you truly think we need help from the likes of you? I have the matter well in hand on my own. I used to own a zoo with all the wild animals from my country. People would come from all over to see them. But zoos have become common place and people are no longer interested. So to build the riches of my land back, I’m creating a zoo like no one has ever seen before. I’ve already gathered mer-maids, monkey men, dinosaurs, alien life forms of all kinds and many other wonderful sights that people will be willing to pay a fortune to see.”
“Mer-maid and monkey men?” asks Nyoka.
“You can’t be serious,” continues Tara. “Their sentient beings. Surely you wouldn’t incarcerate innocent people for self gain?”
“They aren’t real people,” says Pantha. From the strain in her voice it is obvious she hasn’t completely convinced even herself of what she is saying. “But the people of my tribe are.” Tears begin to run from her eyes as her need to comfort her tribesmen totally overwhelms her. “They need me to help them to overcome their lives of poverty – to be able to be a strong and proud people once more.”
Tara shakes her head, “Knowing the inherant goodness of your tribe, I know in my heart that they would never wish harm on others just to help their own plight. Listen, there are other ways to…”
“There are no other ways!” she screams, tears now flowing down her face. “All of you just shut up. I have to help them and that’s just how it is. SO JUST SHUT UP! If anyone says anything else to confuse me I promise I’ll shoot you all. Just leave the portals open so I can get more specimens, and leave me alone, and everyone will be okay.”
“Sorry, but Princess need help,” comes a voice from behind her. Princess Pantha turns just in time to see the huge fist of Cave Girl smash her across the jaw, bringing unconsciousness. “You not well.”
“Cave Girl? But how?” Nyoka wants to know.
Strong man enters the cavern. “It seems like my lady is not only beautiful but resiliant as well. After laying down a few minutes she insisted on coming back out here with you. I tried to stop her but there was no way.”
Cave girl says, “Cave Girl fine, but what we do with Princess?”
“The only thing we can do,” says Tara. “We get her help. Dr. Weir should be able to help her. He knew all along it would be hard for some of his vault heroes to cope with a life, forty years past their own time. One thing she said is right though. We can’t close the portals.”
“And why is that?” Tygra wants to know.
“Because we have to find the people and things she captured and try to return them to their own places and times. Then after things settle down, maybe we can figure out what to do with the portals. But for now, I think we’ve explored enough,” says Tara.
“Amen to that sister!” agrees Nyoka. And for the first time in a while they take the time to laugh a little.
“Can you back up and try again, I think you missed that pothole?” The bouncy jeep ride had made She-Cat even more irritable than usual and the company she was keeping didn’t help.
“You don’t like us much, do you?”
She-Cat eyed the Lieutenant and the driver. The reports of human rights abuses had been leaking out of this tiny Pacific Rim country for months as the government cracked down on rebel forces. If archaeological evidence hadn’t been discovered on this island showing that Sekhmet had once been worshipped here, she would never have made this trip. “How much further?”
“We’re here. You know, things aren’t always what you think.” The jeep turned a bend in the winding road and the foliage covering the trail disappeared as they entered a clearing full of ramshackle huts. The villagers warily eyed their vehicle as it moved towards the center of town. An old man approached as they stopped. Ignoring the soldiers, he smiled heartily at She-Cat. “Welcome, welcome, my name’s Gregorio, it’s so good of you to come! Please, come with me, I will show you to your accommodations.”
She-Cat looked towards the soldiers for confirmation that this was her intended greeting party. Their only response was to toss her bags out of the jeep. She had just enough time to hop out herself before the vehicle turned and sped away.
She-Cat turned and smiled at the old man who had already scooped up her bags. “Nice place you got here. Tell you what, I’ll carry my bags, you lead the way.”
“Certainly, Miss She-Cat. Did you have a comfortable trip?”
“You mean other than the busted spring in the seat goosing me every time we hit a bump?”
“Oh…I’m sorry. Well, if the bed isn’t to your liking, you let me know.”
The old man swung open a door to one of the huts and ushered She-Cat inside. She found herself in what appeared to be a kitchen, surrounded by a group of people engaged in a vigorous discussion. The room went silent as she entered.
“Come, come, Miss She-Cat. You’ll be staying back here.” The old man disappeared into another room. Nodding to the gape-jawed assembly, She-Cat followed the old man into a bedroom. An open makeup case covered the dressing table and pictures of the old man with several of the people in the kitchen decorated a makeshift bureau.
“Now, Miss She-Cat, the bed is very soft and…”
“Is this your room?”
“Yes.” The old man appeared crestfallen. “It’s not nice enough?”
“I can’t stay in your room!”
“B…but why not?” Suddenly, the man’s face brightened. “Oh, no! You misunderstand. You will have the room to yourself. The woman and I will sleep in another room.”
She-Cat laughed. “No, no, no. It’s your house, you should sleep in your room on your bed. I should sleep in another room.”
“Ohhh, but the bed in the other room is…”
“Is?”
The old man shrugged. “You’d be better off sleeping on the seat of that jeep.”
“I see. Well, I still insist that you keep your bed. Show me the other room, after all, it’s only for a night or two.”
The old man showed She-Cat into another room where she dropped her bags. A quick check of the bed confirmed that he was probably right about how well she would sleep. Still, he was opening up his home to her and it would be rude to complain. “Thank you! This will be fine.”
She followed the old man back into the kitchen. It had somehow become even more crowded. “So, when do I get to see the shrine to Sekhmet?”
The expressions on the faces of those in the room ranged from confusion to amusement. The old man cleared his throat and tried to speak. “Oh…uh…yes…well…here’s the thing…uh…Sekhmet…yes…”
“Father,” a tall dark haired man in his early 20’s cut the old man off. “Tell her!”
“I’m telling, Mateo, I’m telling. Yes, Miss She-Cat. See, the thing is, the Sekhmet thing, is not exactly true.”
“It’s not true at all, dad!”
“EXCUSE ME!”
“I apologize She-Cat. My father thought if he could just get you here, you would help. Nobody actually thought you would come. That’s why we were all so surprised when you first came in the room.”
“So, there’s no archaeological evidence that Sekhmet was worshipped here?”
“No.”
“That was just a lie to get me here?”
“Yes.”
“Please, Miss She-Cat! I know it was terrible to lie to you, but I had no choice. We need your help! What other choice did I have?”
“The truth would have been an option!”
“You wouldn’t have come. You couldn’t have come if you’d known the real reason!”
“Which is?”
“You have to protect us from Colonel Joe and his men!”
“Whuh? Who?”
“Colonel Joe is the leader of the ‘rebels.’ They’re really just a gang of criminals, drugs, guns, but they’ve got everybody fooled into thinking they’re leading some popular uprising. They’ve been moving from town to town, gradually increasing the area under their control by killing anybody who stands in their way. When the government tries to help, Colonel Joe massacres one of the villages under his control and then tells the western human rights organizations that the government did it. Now the government is scared to move against him because they don’t want to risk any more bad press.”
“No, son. The government doesn’t want any more massacres.”
“Either way, we’re next in line for takeover by Colonel Joe’s forces and that’ll mean the end of this town.”
“Please, Miss She-Cat. Help us!”
She-Cat couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The media had made it sound like the rebels were freedom fighters. Could all the human rights organizations and all of the media been so easily played for fools? Come to think of it… Still, the United States official policy was to stay out of this and as a member of a government sanctioned superteam she could hardly get involved. “I can’t. You’re right. If I’d known the real reason, I wouldn’t have even been able to come here.”
“But, we can pay. I’ve saved up some money, many of us have. We could pay you?”
“First you lie to me, and now you insult me! Since when did I become a mercenary? You’re going to pay me to fight your battles for you? I’m afraid I’m going to have to go!”
Tears were streaming down the old man’s face. “Yes, yes. I apologize. I’ll arrange for your transport back to the capital immediately.”
***
“Dusty, you’ve got Proxima! Rayda, don’t let DarkFire get away!”
“We’re on it!”
“I’ve got Valkyra. Synn, see what you can do about Gorgana!”
Any observer would have told the tale of an epic battle. Separated into its’ parts, the combatants were evenly matched. Ms. Victory pounded Valkyra through the side of a building and was herself slammed through a light pole. Stardust and Proxima continued the battle they have waged across galaxies, and Rayda used her powers as a human dynamo to short circuit DarkFire’s Menta Helmet illusions. Meanwhile, Synn and Gorgana conducted a mental duel, fighting each other with mental powers that seemed to have reality spinning like a hurricane. Yes, any observer would have recounted an amazing story if there had been any observers, but the scene wasn’t only spinning because of the combatants reality influencing abilities. It looked like a hurricane because it was a hurricane.
Even as the coast was being evacuated, Ms. Victory had convened a meeting of the available Femforce members and auxiliary members. Tara was on a book signing tour in the southern hemisphere, Nightveil’s whereabouts were unknown but presumably she was studying with Azagoth, and She-Cat had gone to investigate claims of ancient Sekhmet worship on a Pacific Rim island. The natural force of the hurricane was not of concern to the Femforce, the people had been evacuated and the team would help with repairs to any property damage after the storm was spent. However, Ms. Victory knew that the abandoned coastal towns would be unprotected against any criminals powerful enough to brave the 100 m.p.h. winds and flying debris.
Femforce v FearforceIn fact, even before the storm hit, reports indicated that the FearForce had robbed several banks and private museums. In a flash, the Femforce was moving to intercept the criminals and, so, the battle was on. Surprisingly, Rayda was having the easiest time handling the elements. Using her dynamo power to create a magnetic force field around herself, she didn’t have to worry about the flying debris, and the ever present water allowed for a great electrical conductor. DarkFire quickly realized that Rayda’s electrical discharges were interrupting the signal from her Menta Helmet thus rendering it virtually useless. Sensing that she was overmatched, she retreated to the bank vault while avoiding Rayda’s blasts.
Stardust’s stellar energy seemed less effective against the Rurian weaponry utilized by Proxima. Perhaps the conditions had dampened her power. Nevertheless, she managed to hold her own as both Rurians dodged flying automobiles and spear-like shards of glass. A similar stalemate had occurred in the battle between Gorgana and Synn. Synn’s constructs and Gorgana’s monsters took turns defeating one another as their creators constantly directed their attacks to the wrong location.
Ms. Victory’s battle with Valkyra was going surprisingly well for the heroine. Her years of crimefighting had made her less reliant on sheer power and more skilled in tactical combat. She repeatedly caught her opponent from behind and delivered crushing blows which sent Valkyra sailing through the air. Certainly, she wasn’t throwing a shutout and Valkyra had managed to score some hits of her own, but having been pounded many times, Ms. Victory was clearly the fresher of the two fighters as Valkyra began to show signs of weariness.
Ms Victory v Valkyra”Heads up, Valkyra!” Ms. Victory’s uppercut sent the villain shooting across the sky. Moving in to take advantage of the situation, Ms. Victory carefully approached the crumpled criminal. Valkyra struggled to get to her feet but as she was just about to stand a shadowy blur streaked past her. When she finally stood to face the heroine, Ms. Victory was gone. Her head clearing, Valkyra scanned the area for her foe, preparing for another sneak attack, when, to her delight, she saw a shocked Ms. Victory embedded in a brick wall by a large stake truck. The bed of the truck had slammed into the bricks at waist level and Ms. Victory’s arms were pinned against the wall leaving her unable to protect herself. Quick to take advantage of the fortunate turn of events, Valkyra ran full speed at the heroine and launched herself into the air landing a two-fisted piledriver blow to the helpless heroine’s chin. Ms. Victory’s head snapped back, slamming into the brick wall and bouncing off. The woozy heroine struggled to free her arms, but Valkyra continued her assault and pounded Ms. Victory with crushing rights and lefts to the chin until the heroine’s shoulders sagged and her strength faded. Reveling in her foe’s defeat, Valkyra rushed to the street corner and dislodged a stop sign that had been blown to the ground. Returning to the truck, she sprang onto the bed and stood before the defeated heroine.
Valkyra wins?”Ha, ha, ha. Finally, I have proven my superiority. Gaze up at the one who has vanquished you, American swine! Know that it is Valkyra who has claimed the final victory!”
With an effort Ms. Victory managed to raise her head. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped as she beheld Valkyra poised before her. The villain’s arms were raised above her head, both hands clutching the twisted metal sign pole, as she prepared to plunge the jagged edge through Ms. Victory’s chest.
“That’s right! Fear me, Ms. Victory! Fear the one who has stopped you forever!!!”
***
She-Cat leaned back in the rickety wooden chair and put her legs up on the rails of the weathered porch. She was in a foul mood. A long uncomfortable ride out here based on a lie, being treated like some gun-for-hire, being asked to get in the middle of a “civil” war on what everybody else in the world would consider to be the wrong side, and now, waiting, amidst all this disappointment, for a ride out of here. She sipped on a sweetly flavored tea and tried to be mad at somebody. The problem was, for some reason she couldn’t understand, the only person she was mad at was herself for not being able to help. Heck, she should be mad at the old man. He had lied to her. He had tricked her into coming here out of some illusion that she was some mercenary who would come to the rescue. Maybe that was the problem. He’d gone about it in the wrong way, but his reasons were valid. He had to lie for the chance that she would help, and isn’t helping people what she did?
The sound of a jeep moving down the street interrupted her thoughts. It stopped a short distance away and three men armed with automatic weapons jumped out. Their garb was not that of the local military. They exchanged glances in her direction, but ultimately they moved away towards the middle of the village where a large crowd had gathered. She-Cat could see Gregorio addressing them, but she couldn’t hear the conversation. Her curiosity piqued, she deliberately got to her feet and moved closer. As she approached their jeep, her keen hearing picked up enough of the dialogue to establish that these were some of Colonel Joe’s men and they had come to claim the village. She-Cat leaned against the side of the jeep wondering if she should intervene in some way. The old man was trying to convince the rebels that the village wasn’t important enough for them to control. Shaking her head at the futility of his argument, She-Cat glanced down at the spring protruding from the seat of the jeep. A closer inspection also revealed bullet holes in the seat covers and dried blood. Her head swimming she could hear the Lieutenant’s voice telling her that “things aren’t always what you think.” Now she was mad at somebody beside herself.
“Hey!” She moved into the street, the late afternoon sun at her back. “Where’d you get this jeep?”
The rebels turned to face her, squinting into the sun. One of them took a few steps in her direction. “What business is it of yours?”
In the blink of his sweat-soaked eye, she was on top of him like a blur, her razor sharp nails digging into the underside of his jaw. “I’m making it my business!”
From behind him, one of his buddies offered, “Hey, hey, it’s cool! Chill out! My uncle gave me the jeep last year as a present.”
“Yeah, h.hh..his uncle g..gave it to him!”
The unmitigated gall of the lie was offensive. Pushing the rebel back towards his friends, She-Cat said, “What’s your business here?”
The third rebel finally piped up. “We’re having a private conversation with some friends.”
“You have all your ‘private conversations’ in the middle of the street in the center of town? Get out of here now and I won’t rip your lying lungs out.”
Looking at each other in surprise, but unwilling to confront their strange adversary, the rebels began to move toward the jeep.
“Uh-uh-uh, the jeep stays here! I had a chance to get to know it personally this morning and we’ve gotten rather close.”
Scowling the three rebels reluctantly trudged off into the rainforest, setting off a great cheer from the crowd. The old man joyously ran up and hugged She-Cat, thanking her for saving the town. Everyone seemed to be celebrating. Everyone but She-Cat and Mateo. Gregorio’s son just looked at her and shook his head sadly. She knew she had just taken it on herself to save this town.
***
Tara smiles for the camerasTara smiled and tried not to blink as the thousandth flash bulb went off. Another fan’s request to have his picture taken with the Jungle Girl satisfied, she sat back down and continued to autograph copies of her book for the assembled throng. For a scholarly treatise on conservation it was getting quite the reception from the masses, although she suspected the overwhelming majority had less interest in saving the rainforest than in ogling the author. If every autograph and photo didn’t raise money for the cause, she never would have agreed to do this international book signing tour. The only benefit was that in her down time she’d been able to visit some beautiful countryside. After today’s signing in Sydney, Australia, she was going to get a short tour of part of the Outback before heading to Fiji for a signing tomorrow morning and then on to the Philippines.
She finished signing another copy of her book and, once again, graciously agreed to pose for another photograph. Another smile lit up the room and another charitable contribution was logged in the ledger. Exhausted, Tara turned to her friend, Janis Lawson. “Didn’t you say She-Cat was going to be checking out an archaeological site around here somewhere?”
“Yeah, well, up closer to the Philippines, I think.”
“Maybe tomorrow after Fiji, we can drop in and surprise her?”
“Ehh, I’ve got a lot of stuff to do in the Philippines before the event there. You should go, though, she’d appreciate it if you stopped to see her.”
“Stuff to do. Yeah, right. You just think Cat doesn’t like you.”
“She doesn’t. She can be so mean sometimes!”
“I keep telling you, don’t pay attention to what she says, pay attention to what she does.”
“That’s easy for you to say, she’s nice to you.”
Laughing, Tara watched another flash of light go off in her face. “No, she’s not!”
***
She-Cat couldn’t tell if Gregorio lived in a house or a social club. It seemed the whole village was in his kitchen jabbering excitedly about how Colonel Joe’s men had been driven away. She had avoided involvement in the discussion by heading straight for the theoretical privacy of her room where she sat ponderously on perhaps the most uncomfortable bed in modern creation. The unknowing joy in the kitchen was so palpable that it was making her sick to her stomach. The people had no idea that her irresponsible actions had sealed their fate.
In another small room, She-Cat could hear Mateo speaking with one of the young ladies in the village. He was upset and she was urging him to “go in and talk to her, then!” She-Cat wasn’t sure what to think about Mateo. It was clear that he hadn’t supported his father’s idea to bring in help, but he seemed to revere the old man and she got the sense that Mateo was being torn apart by this situation. She wondered if he wasn’t a rebel sympathizer. His dismay when she drove the advance party away had been evident. Of course, he may have known what she knew, that it wasn’t the end but the beginning of the end. Still, she sensed that he resented what she’d done.
She wasn’t surprised when there was a knock on the wall outside the room and Mateo appeared in the doorway. “Can I please speak to you? I’ve been talking to my friend, May, and I think today, what you did, was a big mistake!”
“Come on in, Mateo. Take a load off.”
“That bed is…very uncomfortable, even to sit on. I think I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s your house. So, you came in here to tell me off for getting involved?”
“It was very foolish. Colonel Joe will be very mad and he will come with a lot of men and they will kill everybody who is a ‘problem,’ like my father!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll have to figure out a way to stop that from happening.”
“You’re one person, even if you are some big-time American superhero. You can’t stop bullets. Even if you can save yourself now, you can’t save us. Even if you held him off for a week or a month, eventually you’d have to leave and the Colonel would get us.”
“It seems I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh? If I had turned a blind eye this afternoon, what would that have said about the kind of things this Colonel Joe has done? What would it have said about liberty? You’re right, though, if it’s just me it won’t be enough to stop him.”
She-Cat stood and walked into the kitchen where the celebration remained lively. Her appearance brought a hush and then a crescendo of applause which died out in response to the serious expression on her face. “You shouldn’t be celebrating, you should be preparing for war. Colonel Joe will be back, tomorrow, and he’ll have an army with him. I’m not going to be enough to make him forget about this village forever. In fact, what I did today is going to guarantee that he shows up tomorrow determined to make the destruction of this village a lesson for every other village he hasn’t yet conquered. No, I’m not going to be enough because I can’t beat an army alone, because I can’t stop the men on the left from shooting all of you while I’m fighting the men on the right. The only way for this village to escape subjugation by Colonel Joe is for this village to fight for itself. I’ll help you. I’ll do what I can. You have to fight him off, you have to make it not worth his while to control this village, you have to fight for your own liberty. That means some of you will die. That means I may die. He’ll be here tomorrow. I guarantee it. I’ll stand at the front to take him on, but if you don’t stand up for yourselves, he’ll slaughter us all.
***
Valkyra’s eyes blazed as she prepared to plunge the proverbial stake through her enemy’s heart. Her scream of triumph was accompanied by simultaneous thunder and lightning signalling the end. A helpless Ms. Victory could only close her eyes and wait for the twisted steel to penetrate her breast. The mental anguish of the final moment seemed to last an eternity. Seconds passed and Ms. Victory could still feel her chest heaving with the intake of each breath. Finally, unable to bear it any longer she opened her eyes to see an unconscious Valkyra prone on the bed of the truck before her. Ms. Victory blinked disbelievingly, before nervously chuckling in relief. Just as the storm had given Valkyra an assist earlier, it had now delivered Ms. Victory from evil. The lightning strike had been drawn to the metal stop sign and the force of the electrical surge running from the pole through Valkyra’s body had knocked her cold. Ms. Victory could see her foe was still alive, but she was out like a light. Letting out a deep breath of relief, Ms. Victory summoned her strength and managed to dislodge the truck enough to free her arms. Once her arms were free, it was a simple matter to push the bed clear of her body so that she could extract herself from the brick wall and take Valkyra into custody.
With Valkyra out of the way, Ms. Victory could assist the rest of the team in dispatching their opponents. Proxima had managed to herd Stardust into a confined space and she had Dusty in her sights when Ms. Victory swooped in from behind to snatch the former Rurian general’s weapons from her hands. Taking advantage of Proxima’s surprise at Ms. Victory’s appearance, Stardust caught her with a stellar blast that left the warrior unconscious.
Rayda appeared at the entrance of the bank with Menta Helmet in hand and DarkFire in tow. The spy had decided that given the conditions, the best course of action would be unconditional surrender. After all, she who lives, lives to fight another day, and running around in the middle of a hurricane wasn’t everything her compatriots had said it would be.
Upon seeing her accomplices captured, Gorgana slipped away, leaving Synn’s constructs to finish up their battle against Gorgana’s monsters. In short time, the captured villainesses were again incarcerated in their specially constructed cells and the Femforce had returned to headquarters.
“We were very lucky to get out of this encounter without any casualties and with only Gorgana escaping.”
“Oh, come on Ms. Victory, I thought we handled ourselves pretty well. I mean, I don’t know about the rest of you but DarkFire gave in to me pretty fast.”
“Well, I was having difficulty with Proxima but Ms. Victory handled Valkyra so easily that she was able to come to my aid.”
“Yeah, every time I caught a glimpse of your battle with Valkyra while I was playing with Gorgana, you were wiping the floor with her. Valkyra never had a chance!”
A faint smile crossing her lips, Ms. Victory looked down and contemplated the unmarked skin on her chest. “Yeah, she never had a chance.”
***
Dawn’s breath was slowly lifting from the ground as the late morning sun warmed what was left of the cool night air. Through the haze, faceless numbers appeared at a treeline forming a wraithlike battalion. A mass of at least 100 men marched resolutely toward the village where the emboldened villagers waited behind their champion to receive them. The cobbled together citizens’ militia had armed themselves with whatever weapons they could find. Old pistols, knives, bows, and arrows, abounded. An audible murmur of despair could be heard when their enemy drew close enough for the rebels’ superior firepower to become evident. She-Cat could hear the whispers behind her suggesting that, perhaps, it was not too late to seek the rebels’ mercy. Her chest tightened. No matter how many times she’d taken on impossible odds, she always felt the pull of her mortality. A little fear to get the adrenalin going. She watched the rebels move inexorably toward the village, their rifles by their sides. Certainly, this was how they had cowed recalcitrant villagers in the past. The show of superior force was more than enough, why waste the bullets when surrender could be achieved without a shot and dissidents handled after total control had been established? The rebel force stopped 10 yards in front of her and the first line raised their rifles and trained them on the village. A man at the back of the troop stepped onto a tree stump and raised himself above the crowd.
“Hello, American hero! I’ve admired you for years! The savage She-Cat! I really don’t want to kill you, but if you insist on standing in my way, I’m afraid that I may have little choice. Why don’t you go home to the United States and stay out of this business which is really none of your concern?”
She-Cat stood her ground, eyeing the rebel leader intently. He was right, of course. She’d gotten involved in something that she wished she hadn’t, but under the circumstances she didn’t see that she had a choice. The village had asked for a hero to help them. They’d asked for her to help them, and the politics of this island nation aside, she knew that helping these villagers save themselves and their village was the right thing to do. She knew she was fighting on the side of right just as surely as she knew that this battle was unwinnable. She couldn’t stop automatic weapon fire from killing these villagers, and, eventually, herself. She couldn’t save this village, but she had to try. So her eyes hardened, and her jaw clenched, and with a look she signalled her answer.
“So, it’s a ‘no’ is it? Why do you protect these people? They have no honor. They’ve already forsaken you and melted into the shadows of their homes. Would you really stand alone against an army for the likes of them?!?”
She-Cat didn’t even have to turn around to verify that she was standing alone. She could feel her isolation. Only Gregorio moving closer to her provided any support. The rest of the citizens’ militia was gone, their instinct for self-preservation having overcome their desire for continued freedom. She felt the old man’s trembling hand at her side.
“Ms. She-Cat, it was wrong of me to draw you into this. This is not your village. It is not your problem. It is not your fight. He will let you leave if you go now. It would be best for you if you left.”
She-Cat moved her hand to his shoulder while never taking her eyes off the rebels. “He’d let me leave, you’re right, but he’d kill you before I was out of sight.”
“I’m a foolish old man, perhaps…”
“I can’t allow it, move behind me.” “Colonel, if I allow the slaughter of this village then I’m also complicit in the slaughter of the next. You know, I can’t do that.”
“Bah! Foolish woman! You can’t stop me! It’s not bravery but stupidity to die for no reason!”
“Maybe, but do you really want to kill an American hero? You won’t be able to pawn off my death on the government. It wouldn’t withstand the scrutiny of a real investigation and there would be repercussions. The whole world would find out about your deception. The individuals and organizations who’ve been duped by your ‘freedom fighter’ act would disappear into the night and an international force would come in and hunt you down!”
The color drained from the Colonel’s face, to be replaced by a glimpse of anger, and, finally, a smirk. “Yes, you have a point. So, we are at an impasse. I cannot kill you, but you are still one against many. I don’t have to kill you to take this village, just capture you. Men! Don’t kill her, if she dies I’ll shoot the persons responsible, but I want her subdued and brought to me! Now!!!”
“You won’t need them to bring me to you, I’ll be with you in a second!!!”
With lightning quickness She-Cat bounded forward and leaped into the massed rebels. Taken aback by the speed and ferocity of her attack, they could scarcely react as they fell by the twos and fours from a variety of slashes, punches, and kicks.
Leaping airborne she moved across the tops of their heads, knocking two rebels out by smashing their heads together as she lashed out with both legs to kick two others in the face and send them reeling backwards.
Landing on the ground in a crouch, she executed a forward roll ending with a boot to the groin and a straight right to the nose of the now doubled over soldier.
Flipping backwards to her feet, she delivered a reverse chop to the neck of one rebel and a straight kick to the gut of another.
The Colonel watched astounded as he saw his troops being mowed down by nothing less than a tidal wave. Soldiers unaccustomed to fighting an enemy without pulling a trigger receded before her. Stepping down from his perch, he moved away from his position, avoiding the current ripping through his men.
The battle raged for almost an hour as a seemingly inexhaustible She-Cat fought through an army trying to get to their elusive leader. Soldiers discarded in the first few minutes recovered only to be victimized again and again as she pressed her assault.
She-Cat fights Colonel Joe’s men
The fight continues!
Vaulting off a rebel shoulder, she scissor-kicked a pair of his friends into unconsciousness before kidney-punching him to his knees.
Using his back to launch herself into the air, she spotted the Colonel’s new position even as she wrapped her legs around the neck of another soldier and twisted him to the ground.
Moving into a crouch, she bulled forward between a new opponent’s legs and flipped him over her shoulders as she stood up just in time for her eyes to focus on a hammy fist about to smash into her face. The punch sent her reeling and she tripped over the moaning body of the soldier she had backflipped to land, blinking the cobwebs away, on her butt.
It was really the first substantial blow she had taken, but combined with the energy she had expended it was enough to turn the tide as a dozen men leapt on her to hold her down while they wildly delivered whatever blows they could. Soon she was surrounded by bruised and bleeding rebels seeking to exact some measure of revenge for their injuries even as she lashed out to deliver more punishment.
Too many blows delivered by too many attackers began to have their effect. There were just too many people to overcome and now the pain began to dominate her senses as boots and rifle butts and fists crashed into bones. The ceaseless barrage rained down upon her until all she could do was curl up and try to protect the most vital areas of her body. Finally, when she could barely see through the pain, the Colonel ordered his men to stop.
The tide turns
An ultimatum Walking up to the fallen heroine, the Colonel watched as she shakily tried to maneuver herself onto her knees. He lashed out with a kick to her jaw which sent her sprawling onto her back.
“That was a most impressive battle She-Cat. In fact, you’ve managed to decimate my force so completely that I’m not going to be able to take this village today. You have no idea how angry that makes me!”
She-Cat again tried to get to her knees, only to be driven back down onto her side by a boot to an already damaged rib. A short intake of breath through clenched teeth signalled the pain. With a toe under her collar, the Colonel rolled her over onto her back. “Grab the old man that stood with her!”
With a single step, the Colonel placed his boot squarely onto the fallen heroine’s chest and leaned over her, shifting his weight onto her body and digging his heel into her skin. Staring down at the semi-conscious She-Cat, his lips curled into an evil smile. “We’re taking the old man with us. We’ll be back tomorrow. If you’re still here, you’ll watch him die!”
His message delivered, the rebels melted back into the forest, leaving the defeated She-Cat laying spread eagle on the empty field of battle to sink into unconsciousness with the Colonel’s ultimatum ringing in her ears.
chapter two
THAT CUNNING ENEMY
Nightveil on Dark DhagorStumbling across the inhospitable terrain of Dhagor, the terrorized figure sought refuge behind a rocky outcropping. Her raven hair matted with sweat and dirt and her cyan clothing in tatters, she furtively peered around the volcanic formation seeking some sign of her pursuer. Relieved to have gained a respite, she sank back against the stone and attempted to catch her breath.
An involuntary shudder ran through Nightveil’s body. She had been summoned to Dhagor by her mentor, Azagoth, but no sign of his presence was evident on the desolate plane. Instead, she had been greeted by a dark figure who had wordlessly engaged her in mystic battle. The Sorceress, well-schooled in the dark arts, had easily been able to protect herself from the wizardry which she initially faced and soon she was able to counterattack. In stunning succession, she used a wide array of her powers to hurl bolts of occult energy at her attacker while mentally probing for some clue as to his intentions.
However, the shadowy presence was clearly a powerful sorcerer himself, for he obliterated the energy bolts with a wave of the sceptre he held in his hand and easily repelled her mental advance. Calling out a spell of enchantment, Nightveil attempted to encircle him in a magical net, but again he shattered the energy bands with a mere wave of his staff. Clearly amused by her efforts, he sent a wave of energy toward the mystic maiden which forced her back against a canyon wall. Surprised that her protection spell had been less than effective, Nightveil doubled her defense shields just as the mystic wave broke over her. Shrugging off the pounding, she created a quagmire at the feet of the mage, but with a touch of his staff he again stood on solid ground.
Consternation was evident in the face of the Sorceress Supreme as she eyed her opponent. He was garbed in loose fitting cloth, dark as pitch, which covered him from head to toe. Upon closer inspection, the folds of his clothing revealed all manner of amulets and mystic charms, several of which seemed familiar to the pupil of Azagoth.
“Sorcerer, identify yourself!”
“Is it not clear, witch? Can you not see?!?” His rumbling voice cascaded around her as he strode confidently forward.
Boxed in, Nightveil sought some clue to his identity in his face. His features were obscured by the shadows from his hood. She could only make out his eyes, which appeared to be orbs of fire surrounded by rings of lightning. Her gaze turned again to the amulets. The necklace looked much like the charm worn by the sorcerer, T’uva Ra, and she had once seen a ring like that on the finger of a witch named Saaviena. Nightveil’s blood ran cold as she pieced together the mystery.
“Ahh, I see a measure of understanding has breached your peanut of a brain. Yes, witch, I am a predator and, at present, you are my prey!”
The witch hunter conjured a giant fly swatter and brought it crashing down on the stunned sorceress. Her protective spell spared her from injury but she was bashed about nonetheless. Striking back weakly, Nightveil engineered a lightning strike from behind, but the electrical impulse was attracted to the metal sceptre and did no bodily injury. Indeed, the dark mage seemed energized by every attack even as Nightveil felt her power weakening. He laughed when she cast a spell to turn him into stone, and soaked in the occult energy before continuing his advance. As he approached, he eliminated every route of escape until he stood glaring down at her.
Nightveil v Rehtam”You don’t have much left, do you, Sorceress Supreme?” The sarcasm in his use of the appellation dripped off his tongue as he brought his staff crashing down onto her shoulder. In an instant, her protection spell had disintegrated and she was driven down onto her knees. Whirling the staff as a weapon, he twirled it around and brought the head of the sceptre up into her chin. The force of the blow lifted her back up onto her feet for the instant it took him to bring the staff of the sceptre crashing into her midsection. Doubling over, she crumpled to her knees gasping for breath. Nightveil felt icy fingers grasp her by the hair and pull her up off the ground until she was suspended in the air. A gloved hand grabbed her by the neck and slammed her back into the canyon wall. “Any last words?”
A velvet fist punched the Sorcerer in the throat causing him to release his hold, and, as she dropped to the ground, a lavender pump kicked him in the shin resulting in a howl of pain and curses. Memories of her career battling thugs as the crimefighting Blue Bulleteer flitted across her thoughts, but it would take more than fisticuffs to defeat this powerful enemy. Nightveil darted past her assailant and attempted to mystically transport herself back to her Sanctum Sanctorom in the Florida Everglades. To her shock, her power fizzled and her journey took her only to the far side of Dhagor. Again she tried to leave the mystic plane, and again she was unsuccessful. Bereft of sorcery, Nightveil had no recourse but to travel by foot in an effort to elude the hunter who, no doubt, was in pursuit.
She fled across the landscape until she finally found respite behind a volcanic formation. As she leaned back against the stone and attempted to catch her breath, an involuntary shudder ran through her body. Her mystical powers exhausted, she would stand no chance if the witch hunter should find her. He would not again overconfidently allow her the option of a physical assault. Where was Azagoth? Could he have already been defeated? Nightveil put the thought out of her mind. If Azagoth had been defeated then she stood no chance of survival. She strained to think of some course of action which would enable her to defeat the dark mage, but without her magical powers the task would be difficult, if not impossible. Of course, she sardonically noted, she hadn’t been all that successful with her powers.
Nightveil captured
The Sorceress felt something slither across her stomach. Looking down she was shocked to see a rocky tendril snaking from the formation behind her and binding her at the waist. Two stone hands appeared out of the rock and grabbed her around the arms. Her body was pulled tight against the weathered juggernaut while another stony tendril grabbed her around her neck and immobilized her head. Finally, two more hands grew from the rock and seized her ankles. The Dark Sorcerer materialized before her.
“It wasn’t very nice of you to kick me in my shin, witch!”
Trying to quell her growing fear, the Mystic Maiden demonstrated cool arrogance. “Next time, I’ll aim higher.”
Nightveil watched the Mage’s sceptre reach out and touch her on the forehead. Immediately, her thoughts were engulfed in a sea of turbulence and her body convulsed as though it were being torn apart from the inside. Quivering lips cried out for Azagoth as her mind went blank and she sank into unconsciousness.
***
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“Not long.”
“I thought you were jet-setting it in Australia.”
“Australia was yesterday. Fiji was this morning. Thought you might be bored out here in the middle of nowhere so I decided to make a little side trip. I’m glad to see you’re enjoying your little vacation.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. When did you start cracking wise?”
“I’ve been taking notes.”
“Yeah? Well, stop. It doesn’t suit you.” She-Cat shifted her position on the bed. “So, how much do you know?”
“The way I heard it from most of the villagers, you showed up out here unbidden and, against their wishes, decided to attack the great liberating force of Colonel somebody. He left you beaten, unconscious in a field, and as punishment for your actions took one of the village elders.”
“Oh. Is that what happened?”
“That’s what they said. They also said they would have left you out there, but apparently the old man’s wife got her son to bring you back here to recover from your injuries.”
“Ha…owww! Darn rib! Yeah, Mateo probably figured I was too comfortable out there laying on the ground and that I’d suffer a lot more in this bed.”
“Yeah, Mateo’s not real happy with you. He did provide a slightly more plausible account of what happened, though. He said his father tricked you into coming here to stop some evil men from destroying the village and that instead of walking away from a fool’s errand you managed to make the situation worse. Frankly, it has a ring of truth to it which makes me believe him.”
An agitated She-Cat glared at Tara. “You have no idea. Don’t come in here and tell me I screwed up. I know I screwed up! I just don’t know how I could’ve done anything differently without something else bad happening. You know, sometimes things don’t get handed to you on a silver platter!”
“Cat, don’t get mad at me cause you got your butt kicked. I won’t be your personal whipping girl because you’re mad at yourself!”
A knock interrupted the brewing argument. It was Mateo’s girlfriend, May. “Excuse me, Ms. Fremont? What are you planning on doing about Mateo’s father?”
The Jungle Girl and She-Cat stared at each other in stony silence. Finally, Tara offered, “We’ll put our heads together and come up with something. Don’t worry.”
After May had left, She-Cat muttered, “See? That’s how it starts, and the next thing you know, bam, you’re fighting 100 people all by yourself.”
“I’m not fighting anybody. This country’s civil war is none of my business.”
“Mm-hmm. Alright, Too Tall, let me tell you a story.”
For the next few minutes, She-Cat recounted the previous day’s events for the Jungle Girl. When she was finished she waited for Tara’s response.
“Sounds like you were between a rock and a hard place.”
“I still am. I can’t walk away and let the village fall to Colonel Joe’s tyranny, but I don’t want Gregorio’s blood on my hands.”
“Mmm-hmm. Well, we have until noon tomorrow to come up with a plan. Maybe a good night’s rest will make everything clear in the morning.”
“Maybe, but sleep isn’t going to come easy. By the way, where are you bunking?”
Tara came over and pressed her hands into the mattress. “Well, I was thinking maybe you’d give up the other half of this bed to a friend in need, but, on second thought, I think I’d be more comfortable finding a nice soft patch of grass on the ground outside.”
She-Cat smiled knowingly, and as Tara made her way out of the room called after her. “Just like a pampered rich kid! You just have to sleep in the lap of luxury!”
Tara laughingly shot back, “What can I say, I’m spoiled.”
As she disappeared through the doorway, the Jungle Girl barely heard She-Cat say, “Glad you decided to stop by, friend.” Tara knew better than to acknowledge the sentiment.
***
“Wow! It’s so bright and sunny, it’s hard to believe a hurricane just passed through here.”
Stardust surveyed the billions of dollars of property damage evident as far as the eye could see. “Umm, Synn? Are you going to help with cleanup or not?”
Synn smiled merrily and turned again to help Stardust repair structural damage to local buildings. Rayda was working to safely restore electrical power, while Ms. Victory did most of the heavy lifting, clearing up the tons of debris strewn across the landscape. It was not overturned vehicles, however, but Gorgana’s escape which weighed heavily on the Femforce leader’s mind. The ghoul had caused the team a lot of trouble over the years and the thought of her on the loose was not a pleasant one. Moreover, as usual, Nightveil could not be contacted which meant that Ms. Victory couldn’t even warn the Sorceress to be on the lookout for her sworn enemy nor could she count on Nightveil’s superior magic to capture Gorgana.
Synn, Stardust and Ms Victory aid in the clean upAs she righted a pickup truck and pulled it away from the shattered storefront through which it had been propelled, Ms. Victory watched Synn make wacky faces in an attempt to get Stardust to laugh. The Rurian scientist obliged her immature companion by cracking a smile before again coaxing Synn back to work. Synn’s synestrophic powers had proven very effective in battling Gorgana. Ms. Victory concluded that, in Nightveil’s absence, Synn would be the key to capturing the ghoul. If Synn could keep Gorgana mentally occupied, then the ghoul would be less able to protect herself from being knocked unconscious by an undetected physical assault. Ms. Victory could only hope that Gorgana didn’t do too much damage before the plan could be put into action. The approach of a police officer interrupted the red, white, and blue clad heroine’s thoughts.
“Excuse me, Ms. Victory? There’s a priority call for you from a General Strock?”
“Thank you, officer.” Ms. Victory had barely raised the receiver to her ear when she heard the General’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Ms. Victory, we’ve got a problem. I need all of you to report back to Femforce Headquarters immediately.”
“What’s going on?”
“That means now!”
Roberta’s curtness with her, which was highly unusual, clarified the urgency of the situation. Ms. Victory dutifully rounded up her crew and they sped back to headquarters. General Strock met them in the conference room.
“Ladies, less than an hour ago, we received an emergency transmission from Colt. There was a lot of static and it was mostly inaudible. We digitized it and took out all the static. Here’s what’s left. Listen carefully!”
“(begin transmission)….found……….warehouse by…pier. Looks like he’s waiting for someone…try to get closer…..Where’d she come from?!? I think I may have been sp……..Try to hide…No…(gunshot)…Ungh!…No! NOOOO! (end of transmission).”
***
The sun had travelled halfway in its’ arc across the daylight sky when Colonel Joe’s men moved across the field where only yesterday they had been engaged in a singular battle. As they approached the village, She-Cat strode out to meet them. The opposing forces again confronted each other.
She-Cat stood alone. Her feet shoulder-width apart. Her arms by her sides. Her fists clenched. From the safety of his rear guard, Colonel Joe ordered his men to bring him the old man.
“I warned you what would happen if you were still here, woman. His blood is on your hands!”
“We’re going to stop that from happening.”
“We?!? You and who? The same villagers who abandoned you yesterday? The only person who stood with you is about to die!”
Tara plucks Gregorio from Colonel JoeDropping down noiselessly from high in the trees, the Jungle Girl moved out into the field behind the Colonel’s unprotected rear flank. Having drawn as close as she could without being detected, she grew to a height of fifty feet tall. She-Cat motioned with her head for the Colonel to look behind him.
Turning to face a leg the size of a tree trunk, the Colonel craned his neck upward. Tara leaned over and snatched Gregorio from his grasp. Sweat streaming down his forehead, the Colonel stumbled backwards away from the Giantess.
“My friend, She-Cat, thinks we should destroy your ‘army’ and take you in chains to government officials. I’m willing to go along with that, but then you might try to create the perception that agents of the United States crushed your movement for ‘freedom.’ In the end, wiping you out might put our government on the wrong end of a public relations nightmare. So, we’ve decided not to interfere in what our government officially considers to be your nation’s civil war. Instead, we’re going to notify human rights organizations to send unbiased observers to monitor this village. I’m a big contributor, so I’m sure if you do anything out of line, the world will find out the real truth about your movement. Until observers get here, She-Cat and I are going to stick around. If anything happens to these villagers, you’ll personally answer to us. Got that?”
Having recovered his composure, Colonel Joe steamed at the unexpected turn of events. His contact in the village had not warned him of the arrival of another heroine. What was it about this village that heroes from half a world away were seemingly rushing to its defense. Still, he was not easily deterred and he knew that if he allowed himself to be turned away from taking this village he would lose the confidence of his men and fuel future displays of intransigence in other villages. Through gritted teeth, he assented to Tara’s question even as he plotted a way out of this debacle.
“Good! Then you and your men can leave. Now!”
Glaring back at the Giantess, Colonel Joe gathered his men and marched them away into the bush. She-Cat looked at Tara with a raised eyebrow. “I still think we should have kept him prisoner until the observers showed up!”
“How do you think it would look if we took the leader of another nation’s freedom fighters captive?”
“Yeah, but you don’t really think he’s gone for good, do you? Now he’s free to attack us on his terms!”
“If we can protect the village for another day, two at the most, that should be enough time for independent observers to show up. Once the organizations who’ve mistakenly given him international support are on the scene, he won’t be able to risk losing that support by wiping out the villagers.”
“That just means if he wants this village, he’s got to come after the two of us, hard and fast.”
“Yeah, the two of us against an army. I wish we could call in the team for help, but we’re not even supposed to be involved in this ourselves.”
She-Cat nudged Tara in the ribs. “You know, Too Tall, this would almost be a fair fight…if he had more men.”
***
A defeated NightveilThe Dark Mage strode to the very center of Dhagor, adorned with the cloak of darkness. Nightveil, the cloak’s owner, was folded neatly across his shoulder. The former Sorceress Supreme hung limply, her arms and legs dangling loosely with each stride. Having reached his destination, the witch hunter grabbed her wrists in one hand and slung her around to hold her up triumphantly as a sign of his victory.
“Azagoth, it’s time to come out and play!”
He received no response, save a chill wind whistling across the plain.
“Can’t you see I have your pupil, Azagoth? Is this not enough to shame your cowardly soul into facing me?”
Flinging the defeated sorceress to the ground, he strode around her body. “You can have her back if you defeat me Azagoth. I’ve taken her power, but if you face me I may spare her life.”
Like a whisper echoing through cavernous hallways, Nightveil felt the presence searching through her mind. Azagoth explored his unconscious pupil’s memories for some hint of a way to defeat the powerful force which was calling him to battle. The being, known as Rehtam Nottoc, had grown substantially in power since the last time Azagoth had been aware of his presence. Eons ago, his crusade against sorcery had posed no threat. However, Rehtam Nottoc had recently obtained the Sceptre of Valoo which drained the power of a sorcerous attack. He had used the sceptre to defeat an increasing number of mages and, with each victory, Rehtam Nottoc’s power grew. Azagoth had summoned Nightveil to Dhagor to warn her about the power of the Sceptre of Valoo, but Rehtam Nottoc had arrived on the plane before his pupil. Unable to engage the witch hunter in mystical battle, Azagoth had been forced to secret himself and hope that Nightveil was able to discover a weakness which could be exploited. Obviously, as he leafed through the jumbled file cabinet of her brain, she had been largely unsuccessful. Azagoth could discern no chink in Rehtam Nottoc’s armor against magical attack.
In her unconscious state, Nightveil heard Azagoth speaking to her. “My pupil, I have repaired the disorder in your mind and imparted to you all that I know about Rehtam Nottoc and the Sceptre of Valoo. I have also given you enough mystical power to protect yourself for a short time. Soon you will regain consciousness. You must flee this plane. It is the only hope for both of us.”
Growing impatient with Azagoth’s lack of response, Rehtam Nottoc scowled as he walked over to the fallen sorceress. Pulling her onto her knees by the back of her top, he reached into the folds of his clothing and extracted a vial of puce-colored liquid which he opened and tipped towards her parted lips. “Azagoth, you know the effect this will have on her. Do you wish it upon her to wander limbo as one of the mindless living dead for the rest of her existence?!?”
“Enough!!!”
Rehtam Nottoc let the unconscious heroine fall back into the dirt and replaced the vial in his clothing. “It’s about time! I was beginning to think you had no affection for your pupil.”
“She has served her purpose and identified your weakness, now I will exploit my advantage!”
“Ha! Your words betray themselves as mere bluster. She identified no weakness. She fell as easily as all the others. The best she could manage was to whimper for your help before I drained her of her power. If she had found a weakness would she be laying defeated in the di…eh?”
Nightveil escapesTo his surprise, Nightveil had regained consciousness and managed to crawl to her feet. Azagoth opened a dimensional hole. “Go, child!”
“No! She will not escape me!!!”
As Nightveil dove through the mystical hole, Rehtam Nottoc reached out a dark arm which extended out to stop her flight. Nightveil felt his hand snare her foot, but she twisted out of his grasp and left him clutching only her lavender pump as she hurtled through the void. Azagoth closed the dimensional hole behind her just as she heard Rehtam Nottoc scream, “Just for that, Wizard, I will bring her back and leave her lifeless corpse at your feet as a reminder to you in your last few moments of the consequences of your cowardice in refusing to face me!”
***
Tara moved through the jungle foliage effortlessly. Mateo had disappeared shortly after the day’s excitement and it was becoming increasingly clear to the heroines that he was a rebel sympathizer. Love being blind, however, May had slipped off to find him and now Tara followed the girl’s trail and hoped that she could reach her before May came to harm. In only 20 minutes, Tara emerged from the trees and jogged into a clearing near the river bank. She was immediately greeted by the sound of voices which had previously been obscured by the dense bush. It was Colonel Joe and a handful of his men, and they had May! The Jungle Girl stopped and sought to melt back into the treeline, but shouts from the rebels established that she had already been detected. Standing at the edge of the clearing, she started to assess the situation when Colonel Joe called out to her.
“Jungle Girl! What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“I came to check on May. It looks like it’s a good thing that I did. You’ll let her go if you know what’s good for you!”
Tara heard movement in the jungle behind her. Most likely more rebels had circled around for a sneak attack. That would explain Colonel Joe’s cavalier attitude toward her presence. She gave no hint that she had heard their footfall. She had to get closer to the Colonel if she was going to be able to help May, but the rebels were well-armed and even if she escaped their bullets in a frontal attack there was no guarantee that May would be alive when she made it to the riverbank. She sensed three sets of footsteps approaching cautiously from behind and allowed a smile to play across her face. Raising her arms and then locking her fingers behind her head, she turned and acknowledged the three rifles trained on her.
Colonel Joe could scarcely conceal his glee. “I think now, Jungle Girl, that you will come quietly if you know ‘what’s good for you.’”
Tara dejectedly moved across the clearing, prodded by the gun barrels poking her in the back. As she got about 10 steps away she began to use her growing power. The optical illusion that she was just getting closer would buy her some time with Colonel Joe and the men surrounding him, but the three at her back knew immediately what was happening. With lightning quickness, Tara employed her fighting skills to send all three flying with a roundhouse kick. As she continued to grow, it only took her another step to reach Colonel Joe. The Colonel forlornly stared up at the giantess towering above him.
“Heh, heh. Y…You wanted …the girl?”
A terrified May raced over and wrapped her arms around Tara’s shins. The giant Jungle Girl looked at the rebels below.
“Now, what am I going to do with you?”
Colonel Joe responded quizzically, “Why should you do anything to us? It was never our intention to harm the girl.”
Tara felt a stabbing pain in the side of her leg and looked at May in time to see the girl finish plunging a large syringe full of liquid into the giant woman’s calf.
“You’re far too trusting, Jungle Girl. That sedative can stop an elephant, it should at least be able to slow you down. Get her men!
The rebels by Colonel Joe’s side rushed the giantess and grabbed hold of her legs. Tara easily shook them off as her size gave her an advantage in strength and leverage, but they were joined by a score of men racing out from the jungle with nets and ropes. Casting the nets over her feet, and encircling her legs in rope, they held on for dear life as Tara’s might was still too great to control. Moving carefully, so as not to trip herself up, Tara reached down to remove the netting, but one of the rebels launched himself at the back of her knee causing her leg to buckle. The Jungle Girl crashed to the ground, catching herself with her hand, and before she could recover a handful of rebels grabbed her by the wrist and forearm while others scrambled atop her legs trying to hold them down. With her free hand, she started picking rebels off her other arm, but her position on her hands and knees had made it easier for the rebels to scale her body and now two of the men had managed to reach her head and they were hanging from her hair and ears trying to pull her body down to the ground. To make matters worse, the tranquilizer was kicking in and Tara felt sluggish. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she put her free hand down to get her equilibrium. She realized the mistake immediately, as another handful of men quickly took advantage of the opportunity to grab her by that arm, as well.
The advantage of Tara’s size having been taken away by the tactical victory of bringing her to her knees, the rebels began to tug outward on her arms hoping to get her all the way down to the ground, but the giantess managed to maneuver herself closer to the riverbank and the rebels found difficult footing in the muck and mud. The score of men on her legs, however, had good leverage and were soon able to pull the weakened Jungle Girl’s knees out from under her. This position made it much more difficult for the giantess to counter the rebels efforts to subdue her. The mire of the riverbank, which had previously been to her advantage, now worked against her. She could get no handhold in the mud, and as rebels she had previously discarded returned to the fray, she now had five or six men pulling outward on every limb.
Exhausted from the struggle, and the effects of the tranquilizer, Tara could feel the river flowing under her chin. Colonel Joe waded out and stood in front of her.
“Arrogant American! If you had just minded your own business, you could have left this island alive! Now, it’s unfortunate, but your government will hear that you accidentally drowned while swimming in the unfamiliar waters of this nation.”
Grabbing the hair above her forehead, Colonel Joe pulled down seeking to dunk the Jungle Girl’s face into the river, but Tara tensed her neck muscles and, looking him in the eye with steely determination, signalled that she would not be so easily dispatched. Furious, Colonel Joe commanded every man who was not securing a limb to assist him in submerging the Jungle Girl’s head in the water. The concentrated effort of the half-dozen men not securing her limbs was required, but with rebels standing on her shoulders and pushing against the back of her head, and rebels pulling down on her hair and ears, Tara’s face was forced under the river’s surface.
The cold, running water was like a slap in the face to the drugged giantess. She felt a surge of energy as her adrenalin kicked in. Caught unaware the rebels securing her arms and legs almost lost their grips as she began to kick and squirm in an effort to free herself. On several occasions she managed to raise her face from the water and draw in a quick breath. The river was only about four feet deep near the bank and it was difficult for the men forcing her head down to control her ability to turn her head to the side and suck in air.
Still, Tara couldn’t help but feel that she had squandered her window of opportunity. Her first surge of energy had startled her attackers but now all 30 men had refocused their efforts to drown her. As she bucked and strained in an effort to shake loose her assailants, she reproached herself for never considering the possibility that May might be aligned with the rebels. It was the tiny native girl’s traitorous tranquilizer which had been the deciding factor. The Jungle Girl struggled to focus her attention on the battle, but her mind kept drifting. It seemed like yesterday that she had answered the call to join the Femforce in finding Dr. Jimenez’ lost Time Triangle. She had gone to meet the legendary heroines full of doubt regarding whether she belonged in such illustrious company, and now…
To the surprise of the rebels, the giantess slowly began to shrink. Without oxygen, her red blood cells could no longer feed her giant-sized body and Tara involuntarily began to return to normal size as her body sought to adjust to meet the demand. As she reverted to her non-giantess state, the score and more of rebels had little difficulty controlling her as she continued her efforts to wriggle free of their grip. Eventually, a hardy dozen stood waist deep in the river holding the Jungle Girl entirely under water as her arhythmic efforts to free herself slowed before her hands, straining as if clutching at the sky, finally went limp.
Tara captured
Colonel Joe checks Tara for signs of life Cautiously, the rebels in the water released their grips and watched as Tara bobbed face down in the river’s current. Grabbing a hunk of her hair, Colonel Joe lifted the Jungle Girl’s head up out of the water until she hung limply before his eyes. Then, satisfied that she would never trouble anyone again, he removed a golden bracelet from her wrist before releasing her and letting her slide back under the choppy surface to the cheers of the assembled rebels on the bank.
“Through my planning and cunning, we have toppled the Giantess! Now May will take word of this tragedy to the village. If anyone still dares to defy us, I will show you how to skin the Cat!”
Tara floats face down in the water
chapter three
TWO THINGS THAT LAST ‘TIL THE END
The rusty taste in her mouth and the throbbing in her jaw were relegated to the back of her thoughts as the Weapons Mistress rebounded from the force of yet another blow. Her tormenters chortled with delight as they tilted her slumping head up to face the light and prepared to deliver more punishment.
Colt shifted her body and tried again to squirm free of her bonds. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the arms and legs of a wooden chair, with more rope coiled around her body securing her tightly to the seat and back of sturdy mahogany. Her costume was undisturbed, save for the tension exerted on the fabric by the binding cords, and the leather of her gloves and boots inhibited the tightness of the rope and allowed her some ability to maneuver her arms and legs. However, her wriggling had not yet loosened the bonds enough for her to protect herself.
Another backhand slap crashed against her jaw and sent her head whipping backwards with a momentum that rocked the chair onto two legs. The pint-sized pistolera teetered on the brink of falling over, but a kick to the chairback by one of the thugs reversed her momentum. Licking the blood trickling from the side of her mouth, Colt hungrily eyed her gun belt which had been removed and placed on a table out of reach.
“Wishing you could get your hands on your weapons, huh? What would you do to us right now if you had a piece in your hand?”
The men all laughed as the Weapons Mistress could only grit her teeth in frustration. Pulling out his own gun, the man pressed the barrel against her forehead and pushed her head back until the weapon was pointing at the floor. “Lucky for us, you’ll never have that chance again!”
Colt and ?A shot rang out, echoing throughout the warehouse, and then another. In rapid succession shots and the echoes of shots created a cacophonous barrage of weaponfire. Colt felt the barrel of the gun slip away from her skull as the tension on her neck eased and her head rolled forward. Orienting herself, she saw the thugs lying around in pools of blood.
In the dim light of the warehouse the figure of a man approached, his features obscured in shadow. Colt found his movements vaguely familiar and, squinting, she sought to recognize her rescuer. Strangely, the terrain of his face remained always in the dark, his identity a blur. He moved behind her and began to untie her arms.
“Just another second, Val, and we’ll be together again.”
Colt couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. That voice! It wasn’t possible. Her husband had been killed years ago investigating an organization called “The Pact.” Could his death have been a lie, like the one concocted about Dan Barton, the Black Commando?
“Kevin?!?”
His arms moved around her body and began to unbutton her jacket as he leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Of course, Val. It was just a matter of time before we’d be together again.”
The words sent a chill down the redhead’s spine and her face went ashen when she felt fingers fumbling to unbutton her jacket. Her gaze transfixed by the site of rotting flesh oozing from skeletal hands to drip against her bare midriff, Colt’s eyebrows raised in horror and her lips curled in fright as she struggled to escape the grasp of the living dead.
“Come with me, Val! We’ll be together again like before.” Grabbing the struggling spy from behind by the waist, the zombie pulled her close, squeezing her tightly. Her breath escaping from her lips, Colt pulled at the arms of the inhumanly strong monster in an effort to break free, but the creature would not release his grip.
The Weapons Mistress arched her back, through excruciating pain, until she could reach her arms behind her head enough to gouge at the creature’s eyes with her thumbs. With a shriek, the zombie released her and she sprawled onto the floor gasping for air.
“What’s wrong with you, Val? Don’t you love me anymore?!?”
Colt fights off KevinColt tried to scramble across the room but the rotting corpse snagged her by the bottom of her unbuttoned jacket and pulled her back towards him. Ripping herself away, the mini-marksman dove for the table and her gunbelt. Extracting her favorite pistol, she rolled over into a seated position and faced the monster.
“Don’t make me do this, Kevin!”
“You wouldn’t shoot your husband, would you Val?” The zombie continued to move towards Colt. The heroine’s hands, and the gun they held, were shaking.
“Please don’t, Kevin!!!”
Springing at her, the creature leapt for Colt’s throat. In rapid succession she fired three times, once to the head, heart, and gut, before toppling backwards from the weight of the carcass falling on her. Distraught, Colt slid out from under the corpse of her dead husband and slumped against the table leg to rest.
Without warning, a bony hand gripped her collar and she felt herself being lifted to her feet. Twisting around, she could see a look of fury on the zombie’s face.
“I can’t believe you tried to kill me, Val! Good thing I’m already dead!”
Kicking and screaming, Colt struggled to get away, to no avail, as the zombie dragged her towards a cemetery and pulled her into the inky blackness of an empty grave.
***
Tara and MateoDarkness gave way to blurred vision and the realization that she was coughing. Then, the feeling of liquid running out of her mouth and over her lips and the hazy outline of a figure hovering above her. Remembering her predicament, her arms and legs flailed provoking a grunt from the shadow compressing her chest. Soothing words came from a familiar voice and her eyes focused for an instant on a recognizable face.
“Mateo?”
“It’s okay, they drowned you, but it’s okay now.”
“Mateo.” Tara didn’t understand, but she felt safe, and tired, as she fell asleep in his arms.
***
She-Cat listened to the villagers at Gregorio’s table debating over whether Colonel Joe would again try to take the village or whether he would forget about them and move on to a town unprotected by such a stalwart defense. With hopeful eyes they had repeatedly set forth their case that he would search for an easier town and had looked to the heroine for confirmation that they were correct. Her candid response that such an outcome was the least likely only led to more vigorous arguments intended to convince her, and themselves, that she was wrong. The din of voices went silent when the door swung open and May staggered inside.
The girl’s clothing was in tatters and tears streamed down her face. In her arms she cradled a foul smelling package wrapped in leaves. Choking back sobs, she extended it towards She-Cat.
“I…I was searching for Mateo and Colonel Joe’s men found me. They took me captive but Colonel Joe let me go so I could bring you this gift.”
She-Cat gets a messageShe-Cat took the package from May’s arms and set it on the table. Her heart filled with dread as she looked at the moist leaves. For moments she could not bring herself to unwrap the “gift.” Finally, she steeled her heart and, holding back the trembling in her fingers, she moved the leaves away to reveal a golden armband encircling a dead fish.
“I don’t understand, Ms. She-Cat. What does it mean?”
A combination of anger and anguish roared within her and feline nails gouged into the wooden table top as she tried to steady herself. “It means, Gregorio, that your Colonel Joe has seen too many movies!”
Breaking into sobs, May cried, “No, it’s true! I saw it with my own eyes. Drowned! Drowned in the river!!!”
Her heart breaking, She-Cat could barely think through the fury that was raging inside of her. The only reason Tara had been here at all was because she was a friend. It made no sense. Neither of them should have even been here. They had no stake in this town. “Drowned?”
The words seemed ludicrous as they passed She-Cat’s lips. The Jungle Girl was almost as at home in the water as she was on land. She-Cat felt sick at the thought that her friend’s last moments must have seemed such a cruel joke.
Speaking to She-Cat, but addressing the entire crowd, May composed herself and continued to deliver her message. “Colonel Joe also said to tell the villagers that all who deliver you to him will be spared.”
The room erupted in protestations that they could never do such a thing. They would not dishonor themselves with such an act of cowardice. She-Cat looked at the room and knew that in their hearts all but a few had already accepted the offer of self-preservation and it was only a question of how and when they would come at her. Matter of factly, she said, “I think you should all deliver me to Colonel Joe. Then he will spare the entire village.”
A chorus of voices rang out. “Are you sure?” “It does make sense.” “Of course, if all of us turn you over to him then we’re all in the clear.” “Yes, maybe you’re right.”
“Nonsense! I got her involved to help us protect our liberty. She and her friend have tried to help us. We can’t offer her as a sacrifice because we are too cowardly to risk our own lives for our freedom.”
“Gregorio, she is telling us that is what we should do!”
“Of course, because she knows you are cowards and will do it anyway!”
She-Cat spoke with measured resolve. “Maybe, maybe not, but it is what I want you to do.”
***
Gorgana and Iron Jaw broke away from their conversation to watch as the unconscious Colt’s flailing movements resumed. Iron Jaw surveyed Colt’s unrestrained body stretched out before him on the floor of the warehouse. “Is she waking up?”
“I told you when I brought her before you and laid her at your feet that she’s in the middle of a nightmare more tortuous than anything her conscious mind can withstand. As long as I control her thoughts, she will never be able to wake up!”
“You better be right, Gorgana. I agreed to help you defeat the Femforce because you found her spying on me and took care of her, but I prefer my hostages tied up!”
“I told you she may have managed to transmit a message before I turned her lights out. If the Femforce is on the way to her rescue, we need her like this to bait the trap!”
***
“After you and She-Cat rescued my father and humiliated Colonel Joe by making him leave, I went for a walk to calm myself down. I had the hope that maybe he would go away for good, but in my heart I knew you couldn’t humiliate a man like that and not make him an enemy for life. I was distressed that, when you left, he would take his revenge on my father and on my entire family. I was considering whether I should flee to the city when I saw you battling the rebels. I was downstream, on the other side of the river, but I was too scared to help.”
“One man wouldn’t have made a difference against thirty.”
“I was frozen with fear. Too scared to even run and get help. I didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t want to give them any reason to hurt me.”
“By the time you made it to the village and back it would have been over.”
“I thought…you’re a hero. You’ll be allright. You’ve taken out worse than these guys!”
“As part of a team, not by myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re a hero. Then I remembered how they managed to beat She-Cat and take my father captive and I started to worry for you. When they forced you to the ground, I wanted to help but I couldn’t move. I watched you fighting thirty of them by yourself and I was too much of a coward to help.”
“
Mateo, if you’d tried to help me, you would have only gotten yourself killed.”
“That’s what I told myself, ‘Don’t do it. You can’t help her. You’ll only get yourself killed.’ I kept thinking, hoping, you’d get away on your own. I was hoping…and then I saw all the guys around you relaxing and Colonel Joe lifted you out of the water. All the rebels started laughing and I knew that you weren’t going to get away… That you didn’t get away. They just left you floating there. The river’s current bringing you towards me. Mocking my cowardice!”
Mateo tells Tara of her rescue Tara watched the young man castigating his own character. The reason he was reluctant for the village to face Colonel Joe and his irritation at She-Cat for getting involved became clear. Soothingly she offered, “It wasn’t a coward that fished me out of the water when you could easily have been spotted.”
“I knew I had to do something! When you floated past, I pulled you to shore and dragged you into the jungle. Out of sight. When I turned you over on your back, I was sure you were dead. I don’t know how much time had passed. It seemed like an eternity, but maybe, probably, it was only a few minutes. I tried to get the water out of your lungs. I did mouth-to-mouth. I tried to get your heart going. I thought it was hopeless but then you started coughing and you kicked me. I was very happy to be kicked.”
“I’m happy to have done the kicking!”
“When you went to sleep, I brought you here. I thought the river area wouldn’t be safe. This is an old temple. No one ever comes here.”
“Mateo?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you!”
***
Ms. Victory, Stardust, and Synn flew south. General Strock had informed them that Colt had last been seen in Pompano Beach, Florida. The trio converged on the warehouse district near the pier.
“Synn, take the buildings to the left, Stardust to the right. I’ll get the ones in the middle. If you spot anything send up a signal for the rest of us and wait for backup. We don’t know who we’re up against, so be careful!”
Ms. Victory watched her teammates head off to their respective buildings and then she began searching her section of warehouses. After a few minutes a stellar flare lit the sky. Ms. Victory raced over towards Stardust.
“The building appears to be empty…except for Colt. If you look through this window, you can see she’s alone in the middle of the floor. It looks like they cleared out and left her behind. She’s not even tied up!”
“Hey guys, didja find her? Is she okay?”
“Stardust found her. We…”
Synn peered through the upper floor window. “Why doesn’t she get up? She’s moving around.”
“She appears to be having some kind of seizure, Synn. Stardust, check the building’s perimeter again. Synn cover me while I check on Colt.”
Synn watched Ms. Victory slide through an open window and swoop down to kneel beside the Weapons Mistress. Colt’s eyes had rolled back into her head and drool was running down her chin. Ms. Victory tried to wake the fallen crimefighter as Synn called down from above.
“What’s the matter with her? Is she going to be okay?”
Ms. Victory was about to answer when she heard a whistling sound coming from a nearby building. “Watch out, Synn! Something’s incoming!”
Synn turned toward the sound behind her just in time to see the bazooka shell streaking at her. Her mental command to create a giant baseball glove was only half-formed when the shell rocketed into her construct and exploded just a few feet away. The concussive effect blew the startled heroine through the window.
Moving quickly, Ms. Victory sailed up past shattering glass to catch her falling comrade. The doe-eyed blonde was out cold. Ms. Victory continued climbing out of the warehouse and visually retraced the trajectory of the shell. The Femforce leader saw Iron Jaw hiding near the window of a nearby building. Unable to counterattack while holding the unprotected Synn in her arms, Ms. Victory flew back into the warehouse. Alighting, she carefully laid Synn on the floor near Colt. The Weapons Mistress appeared to need prompt medical attention. Quelling the voice inside of her that demanded swift retribution, the Femforce leader determined that the proper course of action would be to get the fallen heroines to a doctor. After Synn and Colt were safe, Iron Jaw could be brought to justice.
“You monster! What have you done to Ms. Victory!”
The Femforce leader felt the impact of a stellar blast in her back as her body was propelled across the room. As she stumbled to her feet and turned to face her attacker, another blast struck her in the chest, sending her flying head over heels until she slammed into a steel girder, her nearly invulnerable body buckling the building support even as she twisted around the metal and crumpled to the floor.
Holding up a hand, she cried out, “Stardust?!? What are you doing!?!”
Stardust saw Gorgana rise to her feet. “You’re surprisingly resilient, ghoul, but if you continue to attack I will blast you into space!”
Standing invisibly behind the Rurian scientist, Gorgana stifled a laugh. Her plan was working. Iron Jaw had taken Synn and her reality altering abilities out of the game. Now, with no one to challenge Gorgana’s own magical powers, her illusions enabled her to use Stardust as the perfect instrument to defeat Ms. Victory.
The Rurian was convinced that Ms. Victory was Gorgana and that Synn was a broken and bloodied Ms. Victory. Furious at the sight, she was holding nothing back and each blast was unerringly finding the mark. Gorgana inwardly chortled at the sight of Ms. Victory being pounded into oblivion by her own teammate as the Femforce leader at first would not, and then could not, fight back. Once Ms. Victory was kaput, it would be a simple matter for Gorgana to strike a treacherous blow against Stardust from behind. Then all three Femforcers would join Colt in a neverending nightmare.
***
Determined to bring the villain responsible for killing her mortal self to justice, Firebeam had followed Iron Jaw’s trail of evil all over the State of Florida. Now she slipped through the closed warehouse doors and found herself in the midst of a shocking scene. Her erstwhile allies, the Femforce, seemingly littered the warehouse floor. Synn and the masked spy she knew as Colt were out cold and Ms. Victory barely clung to consciousness as she pleaded with her attacker to stop. Unimaginably, it was another Femforce team member who was doling out the damage.
Firebeam moved to stop Stardust when she felt the cold chill of evil at the Rurian’s back. Sensing a malevolent presence controlling Stardust, Firebeam embraced the cold, warming it with her flames. Screeching, Gorgana’s only thought was to escape the inferno surrounding her.
Stardust saw Gorgana transform into a battered Ms. Victory. “Ehh? The Ghoul’s aspect changes!?! What trickery is she up to now?”
A shaken Ms. Victory realized that Stardust’s attack had momentarily stopped. “Dr. Mara, behind you!”
Stardust turned to see Gorgana darting through a wall of flames and the Rurian unleashed a stellar blast at the ghoul. The distracted Gorgana never saw the blow coming and, in an instant, she plummeted from vainglorious victory to darkest defeat.
“Hold it right there, Stardust! Don’t make another move!”
“It’s okay, Firebeam. Stardust’s still on our side.”
“If you say so, Ms. Victory, but it sure doesn’t look that way from here.”
“Gorgana created an illusion, Dusty thought I was the ghoul.”
“Indeed, I did! I’m so sorry! Even at the end, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing until you addressed me so personally.”
Ms. Victory got to her feet and began the task of waking the unconscious Synn and Colt. “Firebeam, how did you know Gorgana was here?”
“I didn’t. I followed Iron Jaw’s trail to this building. When I entered I saw Stardust attacking you. I was about to stop her when I felt the cold presence of an evil entity. I didn’t know what was going on, but I figured Stardust wouldn’t normally attack you so I went after what had to be the source of her actions.”
“Owww! My head hurts and my ears are ringing! Hey! What’s Firebeam doing here?”
“I followed Iron Jaw’s trail of evil to this building. I know he’s been here.”
“Iron Jaw?!? I bet he’s the one that tried to blow me up!!!”
Ms. Victory helped Synn to her feet. “It’s a good bet. I saw him hiding nearby. He and Gorgana set a trap for us that almost worked.”
“If he’s nearby the fresh trail will be easy for me to follow. Let’s go!”
“Firebeam, as much as I hate to say this, capturing Iron Jaw’s going to have to wait. Synn, might have a concussion and Colt’s in a state of shock. Plus, we need to get Gorgana into a stasis cell before she regains consciousness. Why don’t you and Synn get Colt back to Femforce Headquarters so she can receive medical attention while Dusty and I make sure Gorgana is safe behind bars.”
***
“Ms. Victory, there you are! Is the situation with Gorgana resolved?”
“Yes, General. All of the Fearforce are now in custody, but Firebeam wants to bring in Iron Jaw.”
“That’s who Colt was after, as well.”
“How is Colt?” Ms. Victory’s voice was hopeful, but uncertain.
“The doctors think she’ll be okay. Physically, she’s unharmed. Emotionally, Gorgana really got to her. She’s going to need some time to recover, but, knowing her the way I do, I’m confident she’ll be fine.”
Ms. Victory knitted her brow. Something was bothering her about their recent encounter with Gorgana but she couldn’t figure it out. The thought that something was wrong nagged at the back of her mind. “How about Synn?”
“The doctors say she might have a slight concussion, although I don’t know how they can tell.”
“Well, I guess Stardust, Firebeam, and I will be enough to capture Iron Jaw.”
“I’m confident the three of you would be successful, but something else has a higher priority.”
“A higher priority than Iron Jaw?!?”
“While you were down in Pompano Beach, I got a briefing from Washington, D.C. The CIA and State are furious. Their operatives are reporting that Tara and She-Cat are compromising our foreign policy. I don’t know all the details. Apparently I didn’t ‘need to know’ that information. Buncha jerks. What I do know is that it has something to do with that island She-Cat was planning on visiting. Take Synn and Stardust and find out what She-Cat and Tara are doing over there. Rayda and Firebeam will have to hold down the fort here while you’re gone. If something comes up and you can’t make it back in time, we’ll call in some favors from the Vault heroes and heroines.”
***
Colonel Joe laughed as he walked into the village. She-Cat lay in the center of town, her wrists bound behind her back and her ankles tied together. The mass of villagers stood behind her.
“I see you got my message. I’m glad so many of you were smart enough to do the right thing and save yourselves. I will be true to my word and spare your lives. You have one hour to leave this village.” As the townspeople dispersed to collect their belongings and flee, Colonel Joe directed several of his men to check the heroine’s bonds. A thorough inspection confirmed that the knots were secure.
Colonel Joe strode up to the dejected heroine. “What hurts more? The treachery of those you sought to protect or …”
Rolling up onto her knees, She-Cat tucked her feet under her and sprang forward. She caught the surprised Colonel in the jaw with the top of her head and sent him flying backwards into his men. Maintaining her feet, she hopped forward and then launched herself to deliver a two-footed kick to his throat.
As he fell to the ground, she landed on his chest and, swiveling her body around, rammed her knees into his neck. His men were too stunned to help him. The Colonel’s face quickly turned a purplish-red and his eyes bugged out of their sockets. Her razor-sharp nails had already frayed the rope around her wrists and she almost had her hands free when she was tackled from behind and forced away from her prey.
Shocked, She-Cat saw that it was May who had come to the Colonel’s defense. As the young girl jumped up and scrambled away from her to the protection of the soldiers, She-Cat felt the rifle barrels trained on her body and heard the click as safeties were turned off. Coughing and gasping for air, Colonel Joe scrambled to his feet and put some distance between them.
“Heh, heh. I guess you didn’t like my ‘gift?’ I thought cats liked fish?”
She-Cat glowered at the Colonel as she finished severing the ropes around her wrists. “You should remember that the guy who sent that message in the movie didn’t live to see the final reel.”
“That was in the movies. In this jungle, automatic weapons fire will tear your body into pieces before you can make up half the distance between us. In this jungle, the heroes lose! You lose! Just like ‘Giant’ Tara!!! Before this day is out I will look into your eyes and there will be nothing but darkness.”
She-Cat smirked. “Darkness, huh?”
The heroine’s suddenly smug attitude irritated Colonel Joe. Wasn’t she afraid of death? Why, even his own men were looking at him in fear. How could she not be afraid? He could feel the day grow cold, as if in preparation for her death. The sun had suddenly clouded over and he now stood in shadow as a large raindrop fell on his shoulder. Several of his men were white as sheets as they fearfully melted off into the jungle and scattered in every direction. With a sense of unease, the Colonel realized that those of his men who remained were looking not at him, but behind him. His heartbeat increasing, he slowly turned around.
“Oh, are you in for a world of hurt!” The Jungle Girl towered over Colonel Joe, water dripping from her hair and clothing onto her would-be assassin.
“But, I killed you?!? You’re dead! Your eyes were dead!!!”
“Yet, here I am!!”
“Don’t come near me! If you touch me, my men will shoot She-Cat!”
“It sounds like you just threatened the life of a member of my team.” Landing next to She-Cat, Ms. Victory addressed Colonel Joe. “I don’t think I like you very much.”
She-Cat’s nails ripped through the rope at her ankles and she climbed to her feet as Stardust and Synn alighted nearby. “What’re you guys doing here?”
“General Strock sent us to check on you two. You want to tell me why this guy’s trying to kill you?”
Nightveil plummets to earth”This guy’s a thug masquerading as a freedom fighter. The people of this village are trying to avoid getting slaughtered or pushed out of their homes and we…uh…we sort of got involved. Now listen! Before you jump our case, if anyone’s to blame for this it’s me. The Jolly Green Jungle Giant over there tried to keep this from turning into an international inci….eh?”
A dimensional rift opened in the sky above the village and the disshevled form of a twisting Nightveil plummeted to earth landing in a heap on the ground near Ms. Victory’s feet. The Femforce leader dropped to a knee to attend to her fallen comrade. The Sorceress grabbed Ms. Victory’s hand and squeezed tightly. Her voice weak, the mystic maiden drew Ms. Victory near. “Joan, the sceptre. The sceptre. I can only protect you for a short time.”
The effort having exhausted her, Nightveil slumped back onto the ground. In the moments it had taken the Sorceress to speak, the sky had darkened and storm clouds had appeared above. An apparition with eyes of fire and lightning streaked towards earth. The sight of the fearsome entity caused the remainder of Colonel Joe’s men to scatter, fleeing in several directions from the otherworldly sights.
“Tara! Watch out behind you!”
At Synn’s warning, the Jungle Girl leapt to the side, tucking and rolling, as a bolt of fire pierced the air where she had stood and crashed into the ground in front of Colonel Joe. Abandoned by his men, and in the middle of a confrontation beyond his understanding, the rebel leader fled, cowering, into a nearby ditch.
Tara takes on RehtamCatching herself against a stand of trees, the Giantess reversed direction and sailed toward the dark figure swooping past her. Rehtam Nottoc felt sinewy arms wrapping around his oversized visage. Casting a minimization spell against his attacker, he was surprised to find that it had less than the desired effect. Although the Giantess became dizzy and a little nauseous, she retained her size. Nevertheless, he was able to break free of her grasp.
“Fool Witch! You should worry about saving yourself instead of wasting the little power you have protecting these insignificant insects! What protection will they have when your defenseless body is torn asunder!”
A ball of mystical energy shot from Rehtam Nottoc’s fingers and hurtled toward the semi-conscious sorceress. Sensing that Nightveil had left herself completely unprotected in order to shield them, Ms. Victory dove on top of Nightveil to protect her from what was surely going to be a killing blow.
“Hey! You shouldn’t have ought to done that!” Synestrophically turning herself into a giant equal to the dark figure in size, Synn walloped Rehtam Nottoc with a right cross to the face. Pain seared the mage’s mind as blood began to pour from his nostril.
“What manner of magic is this that it hasn’t been absorbed?!?”
Grabbing Nightveil’s cape from the dark mage’s shoulders, Synn said, “This doesn’t belong to you.”
She-Cat jumped into the fray, ripping into the dark mage’s shin with razor-sharp fingernails. Yelping in pain, Rehtam Nottoc kicked the heroine away only to have her land on her feet and bound back onto his leg. Focusing through his agony, the sorcerer called on his mystic lightning. Nightveil’s ability to protect the team diminishing with each magical attack, the strike battered She-Cat and caused her to lose her grip. As she slipped off Rehtam Nottoc’s leg, the Sorcerer caught her in her already damaged ribs with a punt that sent her flying into a nearby ditch. She-Cat takes on Rehtam
She-Cat saved by Mateo Clutching in agony at her broken ribs, She-Cat rolled uncontrollably down and across the rocky stream bed of the dry creek. Colonel Joe watched She-Cat tumble to a writhing stop. His hatred for the heroine who had caused him to lose his army overpowering his fright, the rebel leader removed a long knife from his boot and lunged at the unaware heroine preparing to plunge the dagger between her shoulder blades.
“Nooooooo!”
Mateo, who had been watching the battle with Rehtam Nottoc from a safe distance, dove into the ditch without thinking and intercepted the blow intended for She-Cat. Alerted by his cry, She-Cat turned just as Colonel Joe drove Mateo down on top of her. Realizing that his assassination attempt had been foiled, the rebel leader turned and ran while a shocked She-Cat stared at the hilt of the knife sticking from Mateo’s shoulder.
She-Cat looked to the rest of the team for help in assisting Mateo, but they were all busy dodging Rehtam Nottoc’s mystical blasts. Synn had managed to return Nightveil’s cape to the fallen sorceress, covering her with it in the hope that it would repel any attempt to injure its’ owner. Tara was again grappling with the evil magician while Stardust maneuvered around looking for a clear shot which would not injure her teammate. The dark mage once again used his minimization spell, but this time it was effective as the dizzying effect made Tara unable to maintain her focus and she returned to her normal size.
Rehtam is defeatedThe taste of blood in his mouth led Rehtam Nottoc to the realization that Nightveil had found his weakness. As long as he had the Sceptre of Valoo he could not be harmed by magical attack. However, a physical attack, such as her kick on Dhagor, could cause real injury. Desperate to reap the full effect of his magic, the dark mage knew that he had to eliminate the witch responsible for protecting the women assailing him. Calling upon his full assortment of sorcery, Rehtam Nottoc fired dozens of mystic bolts, balls of fire, and lightning strikes at the defenseless Nightveil with each finding its’ mark. Her surprising ability to withstand his assault infuriated him and he redoubled his efforts until the air between himself and Nightveil was filled with mystical energy.
Confused, the Dark Magician looked around to see that his aspect was no longer greater than that of those around him. To his amazement, Nightveil weakly lifted herself into a seated position, her cloak of darkness covering her lap. Raising an eyebrow, she drew the Sceptre of Valoo from beneath her cloak. “Missing something?”
For the first time, Rehtam Nottoc realized that he did not hold the Sceptre. “How?!?”
Ms. Victory smiled. “When Synn hit you, your grip relaxed. Enhanced speed, enhanced strength, it wasn’t hard to snatch it from you. Synn was bright enough to give you another one of her own construction so it wouldn’t be missed. I guess, when she saw me take it, she figured it was important to you.”
“Stardust, would you mind?”
“Not a problem, Nightveil!”
At a fraction of full force, the stellar blast delivered by the Rurian was sufficient to incapacitate the magician. Nightveil approached the fallen mage and touched the sceptre to his forehead, drawing out the remainder of his magic.
“Colonel!”
Tara and She Cat deal with Colonel JoeThe team turned to see May swinging a jeep around as Colonel Joe hurried to make an escape. She-Cat and Tara sped to catch him as the others looked on. Colonel Joe caught up to the moving vehicle as May slowed and jumped into the passenger side seat. With a howl of pain brought on by contact with the sharp metal of a busted spring, he popped into the air and tumbled out onto the dusty roadside while May continued to flee the village she had betrayed. As he clutched at the seat of his pants and scrambled to his feet, the Colonel raised his eyes just in time to see the faces of She-Cat and Tara before their respective right and left fists slammed into his jaw and left him flat on his back seeing stars.
“Man, that felt good!”
“All I know is it made every one of these broken ribs seem worth it.”
“So what do we do with him now?”
A bandaged Mateo stumbled towards them. “I think…that we’ll take it from here.”
“Don’t sink to his level, Mateo.”
“No, I promise. His men have fled. He has no power anymore. We will hold him until the human rights observers come. You have my word.”
Leaning over, both heroines kissed a suddenly blushing Mateo on the cheek and simultaneously said, “My hero!”
“Saved my life, you know?”
“Mine, too!”
“I think we need some time off from our free time!”
The end!”Still have that hotel room in Manilla?”
“For another day.”
“Four-star hotel?”
“Soft bed!”
She-Cat smiled. “You’re still a spoiled rich girl, you know?”
“I’m aware of that, yes.”
“Just so we’re clear.”
Ms. Victory shook her head in disbelief. Tara kissing something other than a jungle cat? She-Cat being upbeat? She watched the two walking together, Tara helping support the injured She-Cat and She-Cat letting her. “Who are those people and what have they done to my teammates?”
Nightveil laughed. “Sometimes it’s good to know there are people in this world you can count on.”
The Femforce leader watched the bedraggled Sorceress approach her. “You talking about them, or you? You took a big chance leaving yourself unprotected like that so that you could spread what was left of your power out to the five of us. He was out to kill you.”
Nightveil looked at her tattered and torn costume, with the blue stocking of one foot still shoeless. “I was sure he would…until I saw my friends. Then I never gave it a second thought.”
With a wave of her hand, Nightveil appeared once again in full, undamaged, costume. “Now, let me consign this fool to limbo for all eternity and we can go home.”
Ms. Victory sighed. “Did I mention Iron Jaw’s on the loose again?”
THE END
This story is a little different than “Heroes and Friends.” I didn’t have it fully developed in my head before I started on it and I basically sat down and typed it all in one shot. I guess it’s not bad as is but I’d love it if people would send in suggestions for changes to make it better. Maybe more detail, additional dialogue, or alternative ways to identify the characters (I love alliterations, i.e., buxom blonde, pint-sized pistolera, etc.). As long as the changes don’t alter the basic structure of the story, I’ll amend it to include reader’s suggestions that make the final story more fun to read! Thanks so far to Jim Johnston for his suggestions.
The World Spins ‘Round and ‘Round!
The window slid open silently and the caped figure crept into the darkened storefront. She congratulated herself on a much quieter entry than if she had tried the padlocked storm cellar door. Shadows in the room loomed threateningly cast by the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk outside the shop. Drawing her twin .45’s from their holsters, the Blue Bulleteer listened for any sound piercing the silence which might alert her to danger. For, if this was one of Lady Luger’s hideaways in the United States, danger was assured.
Goosebumps crept across her flesh and she wondered how the other members of the Femforce were faring as they investigated Lady Luger’s other suspected hideaways. It was a stroke of luck that they had obtained the information that Lady Luger had again crossed the Atlantic. Just this morning they had foiled an espionage attempt at the local Air Force base and one of the captured German spies had been coerced into revealing the sites and the identity of his new boss. Having just come under her command, he was less fearful of her revenge than he would have been had he been a seasoned agent. Of course, there was always the possibility that he was sending the team into a trap.
The spy had revealed four locations where Lady Luger based her local operations. A warehouse on the marina, a seedy motel on the edge of town, a house in the countryside, and this toy store near the center of town. The Femforce had split up with each taking a location and as Laura peered through the darkness at the grinning faces of so many jack-in-the-boxes she wondered if she wouldn’t have preferred the countryside.
Having ascertained that no one was present in the retail portion of the store, the Blue Bulleteer cautiously moved back the curtain and eased into the back room. An office of sorts, it had two doors, a desk, a chair, several filing cabinets, and papers strewn throughout. She lifted a piece of paper from the desk and peered at an invoice for toy trains. If this was a hideaway for Lady Luger it seemed the shop doubled as a legitimate business. Once the building was secure she would check the various documents for clues, but given the haphazard nature in which she found them it was not a task she relished.
Standing with her back to the wall at the side of one door, she twisted the knob and let the door swing open. The squeaking hinges seemed deafening in the silence as she stepped into the doorway with her pistols raised. Her eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness, she found herself confronted by an empty restroom. She sighed to herself and moved to the other door where she repeated the procedure. Steps leading down to a basement. She listened intently for any sound that might signal a human presence but heard nothing.
Carefully, the Blue Bulleteer placed her foot on the top step and shifted her weight. The wooden plank creaked under the pressure. Laura knew that she wouldn’t be able to search the basement without making some noise. Hopefully, no one would be around to hear it. She moved down the steps, listening for any noise other than that of creaking wooden stairs. She was halfway down when she felt icy fingers clamp around her ankle long enough to trip her as her momentum sent her tumbling forward.
Miraculously, though she bounced off the steps several times, she found herself unhurt as she skidded to a stop at the base of a wall. Suddenly, the lights clicked on and the Blue Bulleteer’s pupils could scarcely adjust quickly enough to see the figure of Lady Luger towering above her. Before she could raise her weapons to defend herself, a vicious boot to the chin sent her back into darkness.
“Wake up, Schweinhunt!”
The sound of the whip cracking inches away from her face shocked the Blue Bulleteer back into consciousness. As she blinked her eyes and tried to focus, she felt the tug of gravity pulling on her wrists. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she looked at her arms and saw that she was bound by the wrists to a multicolored circular board. As her senses cleared, she realized that she was tied spread-eagle to a wooden wheel.
“Ahhh, the infamous Blue Bulleteer. How good of you to join us! Miss Victory is at the Marina, no doubt?” Lady Luger again cracked her trademark whip with unerring accuracy, this time the tip actually brushed the Blue Bulleteer’s raven hair.
It had been a trap! She should have known one of Lady Luger’s operatives would never have given up such vital information so easily! Ignoring Lady Luger, she tugged at her bonds, testing their strength. From behind her she heard another voice. “Foolish American! You don’t even have the strength of Miss Victory. Do you really think you can escape when her superior, Panzer, has tied you down?!?”
Panzer and Lady Luger. Together! This was serious! She wondered how quickly the other members of the Femforce had been able to secure their targets. If they were done, and she didn’t report in, they’d come to check on her. She had to buy time.
“That paper hanger in Berlin must be really desperate to send you two losers over here to cause problems!”
“Our glorious Fuhrer has decided that we can ensure the 1000 year Reich by forcing the United States out of the war.”
“You’ll never be able to get us out of the war. All your espionage efforts will never sway the will of the people!”
“Maybe the American people will be swayed by the death of their beloved heroine, the Blue Bulleteer? Maybe they will cry out that no more of their heroes should be lost?”
“It’ll never happen. You’ve got it all wrong. My demise at your hands would only serve to galvanize public anger against you Ratzis. The American people will work and fight even harder to bring down your evil regime!”
“So the Americans will not mourn your death? What a shame! Your going to suffer so much, your people really should mourn after what you’re going to go through.”
“You see, American, Fraulein Luger has decided to turn your demise into a game. The Spinning Wheel of Death upon which you are tied will decide your end! Your method of execution will be determined by where the pointer lands!”
“Of course, Blue Bulleteer, our aim may not be perfect. You may not die after the first time around.”
“Fascist Fiends! You’ll never get away with this!”
“If we don’t, you won’t be around to hear of it. Spin the Wheel of Death, Panzer!”
Laura felt the pointer skim across the top of her head and then the rushing force of her body turning head over heels and upright again with each turn being marked by the pointer slapping against the side of her head. She spun around more times than she could count, her body weight shifting up, down, and side to side as she closed her eyes and tried to keep her equilibrium. Finally, she slowed to a stop on her side.
She opened her eyes and Lady Luger had put aside her bullwhip and picked up a hatchet. “Turn her upright, please, Panzer. I’d like to go for an arm.”
Panzer rotated the wheel and the Blue Bulleteer steeled herself as Lady Luger prepared to throw. Laura tensed as the razor-sharp tomahawk flew through the air and she jerked involuntarily as she heard it slam into the wood not far from her right arm. She exhaled, knowing that her arm was intact, and she looked to see the blade embedded above her forearm.
“Bah, you missed! Here, let Panzer show you how to do it.” Panzer threw the wheel into rotation and walked over next to Lady Luger. Laura closed her eyes and waited for the wheel to stop turning again but the sound of metal slicing into wood shocked her to attention. As the world spun around in front of her, she could hear her tormentors laughing.
“It seems you missed as well, my friend! But, I like your version of the game better. Spin her around again and let’s see how we do with the throwing knives.”
As Laura came to a stop, she looked around to see where the hatchet was embedded. She located it protruding from between her legs. Scarcely had the implications of the location set in than she was again spinning around. She tried to look at the two harpies as they drew back their new weapons but soon dizziness and nausea overcame her and she scarcely heard the knives whistle toward her. She felt the tug of her cape and realized that at least one had found it’s mark uncomfortably close to home.
“Ah, it seems we’ve both missed again. Perhaps, a bullet will better find it’s mark?” Lady Luger drew her pistol from it’s holster.
“No, Fraulein, wait.” Panzer walked over behind the wheel and emerged with the Blue Bulleteer’s weapons. “Better with her own guns, I think!”
“Indeed! How ironic it will be! Panzer, for this idea, I give you the honor of going first!”
Lady Luger walked up beside the Blue Bulleteer on the wheel. “I think you will not be so lucky this time! Do you have any final words?”
“Nuts!”
“Feh!” Lady Luger tugged on the wheel violently and the Blue Bulleteer began spinning around with so much force that she could barely stay conscious. The Teutonic twins watched with delight as the Blue Bulleteer’s body shifted to and fro. Panzer took aim. “Perhaps, we start with a kneecap?”
The gunshots echoed in the small room. Laura felt no pain and knew the Nazis had missed. Relief washed over her, but she knew that sooner or later her foes would tire of playing games. Sure enough, as she slowly came to rest just shy of vertical, her vision cleared and though the room still seemed to be spinning she was able to focus on Lady Luger’s visage. It was clear that this time, she wouldn’t miss. Luger took the .45 from Panzer and standing directly in front of the crimefighter raised both guns to fire.
“Auf wiedersehen, Amerikanen!”
The Blue Bulleteer knew that if this was it, she was going out fighting, and, who knows, she might make the Nazi numbskull so angry that she’d miss. “Ok, you swastikad stooge, let’s see if you can finally hit your target. If the rest of you Aryan schmucks are all as bad a shot as you, our boys will make short work of them!”
Lady Luger’s lip curled up in a sneer, and then, suddenly, the room was bathed in red light. “Eh? Someone else has entered the store. Panzer, check to see who it is?”
The Blue Bulleteer watched Panzer go into a curtained room over near the wall on her right. For the first time, she had an opportunity to notice her whereabouts. It was evident that she was in a finished room in the basement. She couldn’t see the steps that had proven her undoing so they had to be somewhere behind her. Behind Luger she could see steps leading up to the storm entrance.
Lady Luger walked up to the Blue Bulleteer and hissed in a hushed whisper, “If you try to say a word to alert someone, you will die before the first syllable has escaped your lips!” Laura’s .45 pressed against her jaw as Luger clamped her hand across the Blue Bulleteer’s mouth.
Suddenly, a streaking figure clad in red, white, and blue crashed through the storm cellar door. Miss Victory rushed forward only to stop dead in her tracks as Lady Luger shoved the .45 under the Blue Bulleteer’s jaw.
“That’s right, stupid Amerikanen! Any closer and the insides of your friend’s head will get scrambled!”
“Luger, your operation at the marina has been crushed. You’re finished. Give it up! It’ll only go harder on you if you do the Blue Bulleteer any harm.” Miss Victory moved closer trying to dominate Lady Luger’s field of vision. “Come on, hand over the gun.”
“Yes, maybe I should?” Lady Luger’s words did not deceive the patriotic powerhouse. Miss Victory knew that the Nazi would never surrender so easily. Laura’s eyes widened with fear and her muffled cries filled the room. Too late, Miss Victory realized that she herself was in danger as a strong arm grabbed her from behind pinning her arms and a strong hand clamped a damp rag across her mouth. Surprised the superheroine took in a sharp breath as she struggled to free herself from her attackers iron grip.
Too late, Miss Victory recognized the sickly sweet smell of chloroform on the rag. Sensing her peril if she did not escape from the overwhelming effect of the drug she redoubled her efforts but her initial breaths had already taken their toll. Her strength waning, she could not free herself from a foe almost as powerful as herself. Mighty legs buckled and powerful shoulders sagged as Miss Victory slowly slumped into unconsciousness.
“Excellent work, Panzer!” Lady Luger walked toward her compatriot who was the only thing holding the almost unconscious Miss Victory aloft. She tucked the Blue Bulleteer’s pistols into her belt. “You should check around and make sure that none of the other verdamnt Femforce are around.”
“Why don’t you check around!?! I captured Miss Victory, the honor of destroying her should be mine!”
“We captured Miss Victory, just like we captured the Blue Bulleteer! The Fatherland will shower plenty of honor on both of us. Besides, I am your superior officer and I have issued an order!”
Panzer stood petulantly for a moment and then released her grasp on Miss Victory. The mighty heroine’s eyes fluttered as she was freed from the intoxicating chloroform but her legs were without strength to carry her weight as she fell unceremoniously to the floor. With a backwards glance at Lady Luger, Panzer stalked off through the storm cellar entrance.
“She’ll be your downfall, Luger. She’s too ambitious. She’ll try to take credit for what you’ve done!”
Ignoring the Blue Bulleteer’s attempts to cause her concern, Lady Luger looked down at the semi-conscious Miss Victory. Kneeling she pressed the liquid soaked rag over the blonde bombshell’s nose and mouth. The momentary respite had allowed Miss Victory to regain some of her strength but despite her best efforts she was still too weak to push the Nazi fiend away. Luger continued pushing the cloth onto Miss Victory’s face until the blonde heroine’s breathing became regular and shallow. Checking underneath Joan’s eyelids, she confirmed that the American was unconscious. Standing, Luger walked into the room Panzer had previously entered.
“Miss Victory! Miss Victory wake up!” Laura’s heart sank. Panzer and Lady Luger had managed to capture not only her, but Miss Victory as well. The blow to the American public’s morale if they were both defeated would be tremendous. She couldn’t hope that She-Cat or Rio Rita would find them. She had prayed for Miss Victory to arrive and look at that result, the situation was worse. The Blue Bulleteer again tested her bonds and was overjoyed to find that they had been loosened by the centrifugal forces exerted by her spinning body. She began to work her arms trying to get the ropes free as Lady Luger returned with a bottle of what Laura had to believe was more chloroform.
Miss Victory’s vaunted recuperative powers had kicked into high gear and in that short span she had roused herself into semi-consciousness. Rolling over onto her side, she tried weakly to lift herself up but before she could get to her knees Luger pressed a boot heel into her shoulder and shoved her onto her back. Still, her eyes fluttered open again and she tried to sit up only to have Luger again smash the chloroform soaked rag into her face. Miss Victory pawed at Lady Luger’s arms trying unsuccessfully to push them away before the fumes again overpowered her senses and she slipped off to sleep.
As Laura watched Lady Luger sit back and stare at the unconscious Miss Victory, she realized in horror that her buxom friend’s invulnerable body would not save her from the overdose of chloroform that Lady Luger was clearly planning. The Blue Bulleteer frantically called out to her comatose comrade to wake up but the prone powerhouse did not respond. Turning her attention to their captor, the Blue Bulleteer screamed, “Get away from her you Nazi witch! Only a coward would attack a fallen opponent!”
Lady Luger was so absorbed in the realization of her dream to bring about the demise of the personification of American patriotism that Laura wondered if her comments had even been heard, then the teutonic titan respondent in a chillingly quiet voice, “Be quiet liebchen, your turn will come soon enough.”
Devastated by the off-handed manner of the German’s reply, the raven-haired adventuress returned to working on her bonds, desperately attempting to free herself and rescue her fallen comrade. She was gaining significant headway when she was alarmed to hear a noise at her side. Thinking it might be Panzer returning from the check of the grounds, she was enormously relieved to see a surprised Rio Rita who, upon witnessing the awful tableau, quickly drew her pistol from its’ holster located on her leg, high up under her dress.
“Don’t move a muscle, Luger!”
The Nazi swung around, dropping the chloroform soaked rag and extracting one of the Blue Bulleteer’s pistols from her belt, but Rita Farrar’s shot was true and the force of the bullet impacting on the gun in Luger’s hand sent the pistol flying across the room. Seeing that she was covered by a sharpshooter, Lady Luger sheepishly put her hands in the air.
“Stay on your knees, but turn around. Now, take that pistol from your belt butt first and slide it on the ground over toward the Blue Bulleteer. Okay, the same with the luger in your holster. Fine, hands clasped behind your head and don’t move a muscle.”
As Rita Farrar took Lady Luger into custody, the Blue Bulleteer continued freeing herself. Having managed to free her arms, she was working on her legs when she warned, “Rita, be careful, Panzer is around here someplace, as well.”
“You’re warning is too late, Amerikanen! Panzer is here, now!”
As Rita turned to face the giant German, she was met with a slap that sent her hurtling through the air and slamming into a wall. She slid to the floor, stars in her eyes. Sensing her opportunity, Lady Luger went for the gun that had been shot out of her hand. The Blue Bulleteer, having freed her arms but not her feet, leaned forward falling to the floor where she was able to grasp the .45 Rita had ordered Luger to slide her way. Just before Lady Luger reached the other weapon, she was able to fire and the bullet whizzing past the Nazi’s head caused Luger to abandon her effort.
Panzer kicked the gun out of the Blue Bulleteer’s hands before she could turn from her awkward position, but as Miss Victory again regained consciousness and Rio Rita managed to regain her wits the Teutonic terrors both realized that without either weapons or the element of surprise they were completely outclassed. Lady Luger darted out the storm cellar entrance as Panzer fled up the stairs.
Rio Rita, her senses returned, sprinted over to the Blue Bulleteer to help extract her from the final rope binding her to the wooden wheel as Miss Victory finally regained enough strength to sit up. A freed Laura and Rita helped Miss Victory to her feet as She-Cat finally arrived.
“Hey! What’s up with you three? I thought we were going to meet back at the base?”
The three ruffled heroines embarassedly dropped their eyes before Miss Victory attempted to change the subject by asking She-Cat if she had run into any problems at the house out in the country.
“Not a one. Nobody there. I ripped the place up pretty good, though. What happened here?”
The Blue Bulleteer tried the casual approach. “Oh, not much. We ran into Lady Luger and Panzer, but they got away.”
“The three of you let them get away?!?”
“We didn’t let them do anything, Jess!” Miss Victory looked at her compatriots, “We’ll get them the next time.”
The End
IT’S NOT THE HEAT, IT’S THE HUMIDITY
by
S. K. Pepper
Tara rolled over and grunted as a stick dug into her back. “I thought I’d cleared this spot better,” she grumbled as she sat up. She stretched and looked around to see if there were any more sticks which could disturb her sleep. She had the nagging sense that something was wrong.
Suddenly, Tara realized that she didn’t see She-Cat who had been sleeping on the other side of the camp fire. In fact, now that she was looking more closely, she didn’t see any remnants of the camp fire either.
“Wha a a a t?!” Tara leapt to her feet. Something was definitely wrong! Unless, She-Cat was playing a practical joke on her. . . Either way, some investigation was called for.
The dawn’s light identified no footprints or other clues to reveal to Tara where she was or where She-Cat had gotten to.
“This doesn’t look like Jungle Island,” Tara muttered to herself as she jogged up a nearby path. Her eyes continually scanned the vegetation ahead and above her. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there. But, boy – someone was going to pay when she found out.
Tara came to an abrupt stop as a large head rose over the crest of the small his to her left. A brontosaurus! (Or whatever it was now called – her mind was so overwhelmed at the sight that it refused to call up the less familiar “correct” name). Her amazement at the sight of the long-necked dinosaur quickly turned to wariness. Had Dr. Rivits and his daughter, Roxanne, got hold of the Time Portal again?* She didn’t see them but that didn’t mean that they might not be nearby. She began to climb the hill with caution. From the higher vantage point, she hoped to better see the lay of the land.
* Ed. See FemForce Issues 1 & 2.
As she got to the top of the hill, Tara could see that she had reached what appeared to be a large plain on which about a dozen of the dinosaurs cavorted or ate plants. The dinosaur which she had first spotted — or which had first spotted her! — moved its head towards her as if to see what she was doing there. Tara realized that her human size made her vulnerable to being accidentally stepped on. Here, her ability to grow was an advantage.
The surprised dinosaur snorted as Tara grew another 10 feet until she could look it straight in the eye. It sniffed her cautiously then turned and began to chew on some nearby branches. Tara had just started to survey the area when she heard a loud crashing sound behind her. Whirling, she had just enough time to see three or four larger dinosaurs charging towards her before diving into a large clump of prickly bushes to escape being trampled. Her quick movement drew the attention of the dinosaurs which circled her and began sniffing her. Their hot breath tickled the now scratched and disheveled Tara. “This day is just getting better and better,” she sighed. To avoid any future problems with the dinosaurs, Tara grew larger until she was face-to-face with the 20 foot tall newcomers.
The playfulness of the dinosaurs was unexpected. It reminded her of children playing together at the park. This thought had no sooner crossed her mind than Tara felt the ground shake and heard a loud, trumpeting sound. The air above her head rippled and a thunderous crack ripped through the air. The mother dinosaur’s tail whipped back to take aim once more at the interloper who dared associate with her young.
Tara’s stunned gaze could barely take in the sheer enormity of the mother’s presence as she ran to evade that monstrous tail. The mother must be at least 30 feet high at the shoulder! This was no brontosaurus. This had to be a Titanosaur! Tara had heard that some dinosaurs nurtured their young in a communal environment but that was a fact that she had never anticipated witnessing first hand!
The mother’s frantic calls had roused the other mothers, who began to position themselves to attack. “Here’s on girl who is not going to enjoy play group this time,” she murmured as she grew taller to try to defend herself against the whipping tails. Her sudden and rapid growth startled the dinosaurs into temporary stillness. Could Tara find a way to make the massive 100 foot long dinosaurs stop attacking her while she quickly tried to escape from the nest?
Running and growing simultaneously was not as easy as she had hoped. The added size kept throwing off her stride. By the time that she had attained her full 50 foot size limit, Tara had reached the edge of the nest. A massive, angry head rose to meet her. “Uh-oh,” Tara gasped. The father dinosaur dwarfed the jungle girl. She had always found her ability to grow to be a mixed blessing. Now, she had a strong desire to grow taller than 50 feet.
Suddenly, she felt a smack across her cheek. She turned, looking for what had hit her.
“Wake up, Tara!” She-Cat was shaking her friend hard. “I don’t want to have to slap you again. Come on.”
“Wha a a a t?” Tara felt confused. The dinosaurs faded from view as she struggled to wake form the nightmare that had so completely engulfed her. Looking around, she saw the camp fire burning and heard the sounds of her own Jungle Island!
Tara gripped She-Cat’s hand. “I’m fine now,” she said.
“That’s a relief! Your ranting and raving was interfering with my beauty sleep.”
“What a nightmare.” Tara rose and stretched to clear the last vestiges of that dream away. “That’s the last time I stay up late after having your spicy ‘Trout Surprise.’”
“My excellent pan-fried fresh trout had nothing to do with your nightmare,” She-Cat responded. “Your mind was just too focused on your upcoming presentation at the World Ecological Summit in Egypt and that new paleontological find over there. You said that you’d hoped to have some time to see the dig site — your mind just took you there while you slept.”
Tara grinned. “Yeah, but you don’t think I’d let you off the hook so easily do you when you so rarely cook!” The two friends laughed and began to prepare breakfast. There was nothing like camping out under the stars to bring out the appetites for fresh fish cooking on a fire.
The Catman in: The Case of the Unofficial Tontine.
From the Journals of The Deacon.
It was late in the summer of 1885 when I returned at last to the sedate confines of Holyoke City, that bastion of refined eastern seaboard civility, not thirty miles from the centre of Boston. After eight months abroad on the lecture circuit of Oxford University, taking in the great medical city of Edinburgh, the delights of London and of course within my own field –the cathedral cities of Coventry and Salisbury; I thrilled and exulted at the hustle and bustle of Americans out and about conducting their everyday business in an American City.
Of course there were vast similarities between Eastern Ivy League cities such as Holyoke and the cities and large towns of the United Kingdom, but back home there was a sense of barely repressed buoyancy beneath even the most dignified pillar of the Holyoke community that threatened to burst free at any moment, as opposed to the dry, calm, sometimes plodding pace to be found in English cities such as Oxford.
This air of excitement gripped me from the moment I stepped off of the gangplank onto American soil. I was seized with such an urge to be out “doing” that I had to mightily resist the temptation to unpack my long compiled ecclesiastical notes on the spot and dash off a chapter or two of my planned “Journal of the Modern Church: Its Differences Between Continents and Modern Practices Thereof,” which I”ll admit is a mouthful to say and I’d confess a recipe for curing the insomnia of the common man should he be put upon to crack open the first volume. Nethertheless, as a churchman interested in the arts of writing, philosophy, medicine, politics and the workings of the human mind, I fancied myself able to tell a fascinating factual tale which would both be useful and enjoyable to those in literati of like mind.
I digress, however. Let us skip forward to the second evening of my return to the United States and the point wherein the pertinent events of this narrative commence. Having suffered one uncomfortable night at my not yet prepared home, I left the business of dusting, warming and generally making my property liveable again to my valet Stuart and presented my credentials at my club; for it was there that I intended to spend a comfortable few days until my house was once again ready for occupancy.
The Tem Street Gentleman’s Club, so named for its founder, a Mr August Tem, dated to Revolutionary times and traced its origin to the Republican movement in Holyoke of the 1770s. These days it was a fine traditional establishment catering mainly to gentlemen of high professional standing and the occasional gentleman of means but no regular occupation. It was one of the latter types I chanced upon in the billiards room … an old friend in fact. Captain David Merryweather and I had shared lodgings for a four-year period until I had purchased my property a year ago.
Spying me, a look of delight crossed his usually stoic darkly handsome features. “Deacon!” he cried, “My lord, its good to see you again!” At this point an aside to note that although my name IS Nathaniel Deacon, it is much of a standing joke that due to my past, firmer affiliation with the Church and the coincidence of my name; among friends and professional colleagues I am often referred to as “The Deacon.”
Now, a word about my good friend Captain Merryweather. As previously noted I had first made his acquaintance in the year 1880 shortly after his retirement from the service, although he was still only in his late twenties. Merryweather and I had both applied for the same set of rooms and on meeting had taken an instant liking for each other and thus decided to share for companionship and to defray expenses.
He presented a fine figure of a man, standing well over six-foot in height, his build an impressive reminder of his service days that he had kept up. In looks he possessed the dark wavy hair and Byronic features that would set many a society lady to blush in his presence, yet he remained distant and aloof to the charms of the cream of Holyoke society. It was several months into our acquaintance, when our friendship had begun to grow, that Merryweather first began to mention the dark days he had spent in Burma and even longer before he imparted the full tragic tale of his lost love the Princess Afzula.
Altogether the Captain was a fascinating man. He had been born in Europe of mixed parentage – his mother a quarter Hungarian-American gypsy and his father an English soldier who had died during his childhood in Burma. Merryweather, possessed of dual nationality, had returned at the age of seven to America with his mother to rejoin his maternal grandfather’s travelling circus. His mother had learned the arts of animal training from adepts in Burma and young David had spent his early years surrounded by magnificent great cats with whom he had developed a suprising affinity. Then a few years later his mother had died under circumstances Merryweather has never disclosed to me and he withdrew even further from the company of men, preferring to associate mainly with the favoured tiger of his mother called Roxanne.
At the age of 18 his life took another drastic turn when, on the urging of his grandfather, young David enlisted in the United States Cavalry and rose to the rank of Captain over the following eight years. During that time he travelled the length and breadth of the country, fought in the Indian wars, joined army intelligence and discovered his fascination with the art of detection. Finally, he could stand no more of the white man’s treatment towards the Indians and, refusing to condone what he termed “the inhuman persecution” of that race of native Americans he had come to admire so much, he resigned his commission.
Seeking adventure and his past, Merryweather, now a man of means through judicious investment of his salary began to travel the world ending up in Burma. His exploits with the race of Burmese mystics known as the Cat People, his discoveries of his past and the tragic end of the Princess that he loved, I shall not impart in this narrative. All the years I have chronicled his exploits, Merryweather has been glad to add detail and give his blessing to my humble efforts but of those days, his reply is always the same. “Not yet Deacon, the pain is still too fresh in my memory. Some day the story will be told … but not this day!”
Now, I mention Merryweather’s exploits matter of factly. To my old readers who pick up my published accounts after a near year long absence (and I apologise for same), please bear with me as I explain to newer readers that which is known to you already. Namely that shortly after I met Captain David Merryweather, we became embroiled in the affair I then documented as “The Curious Account of the Yellow Hilted Dagger,” for Merryweather, my friends, although retired, was still a man of action and on settling in Holyoke City he soon established a reputation as an adventurer stroke consulting detective. It has been my privilege to chronicle the many adventures we have found ourselves involved in and by this account I resume my duties once more … but with a difference.
I have mentioned Merryweather’s wish that the story of Princess Afzula and those dark days in Burma be kept secret until the time arises when they may of a readiness be told. In the past I have been obliged to alter or omit certain details from my narrative – the names of the foreign diplomats in “The Case of the International Incident,” for example or the identity of the poor demented girl in “The Madhouse of Infamy.” It was also necessary to alter the identity of the relatives of the “Deranged Boston Poisoner,” lest those innocents suffer unjust retribution. Nor would the gentlemen of the board of a certain reputable bank be appreciative should they be made to look foolish by revealing them as victims of “The Swindling Ghoul.”
However as my older readers know, I have always plainly stated that certain names and events have been altered to protect the innocent and those who would not allow permission to have their part in certain adventures known in print. In all these narratives a glaring fact has been omitted. Although, to be fair, my writings are made up of my own first hand experience and notes of the accounts of others, including Merryweather, and it was he who kept one major fact even from myself, his best friend until a year ago. Yes, I have known of this fact during the two narratives prior to this one, but have not been at liberty to reveal my knowledge until now.
In the past I have referred to an urban legend … a legend that kept cropping up through half gabbled confessions of an underworld informer, tavern gossip … the whisper on the air itself when facts are revealed as half truth, rumour, gossip and innuendo, but no man seems to know from whence these whispers originate.
This urban legend I speak of is in fact solid truth. The legend I speak of is the tale of the fearsome nocturnal avenger known as the Catman and at last I can reveal he exists … for when Captain David Merryweather and the Deacon have exhausted all possible avenues in our explorations of the lower reaches of the criminal underworld, even after we have been forced to resort to physical means and failed … hours later Merryweather would return as the Catman and as the Catman he WOULD get the answers he sought. For all Holyoke’s criminal fraternity has one thing in common … They all fear the Catman!
So there we sat, two old friends catching up on old times. Once settled in the smoking room in two comfortable armchairs, brandy glasses within easy reach, Merryweather lit up one of his favoured cheroots while I puffed contentedly on my old Meerschaum; he turned to me and said “Your timing is quite fortuitous Deacon, for I am about to embark upon what I fancy will be an interesting diversion and your assistance would be most welcome.”
I leaned forward. “I should be delighted old man. What may I ask is the nature of the case?”
Merryweather snapped open his pocket watch and glanced at the face “In precisely 60 seconds I am to meet with Colonel Preston Danforth in this very room. The Colonel knew my father in his army days and contacted me recently to implore my aid in a matter he claimed related to an incident occurring during their service days in India. It’s my hope that I will learn more about my father as a result and so I have agreed to hear the gentleman out.”
The Colonel Imparts a Strange Tale.
Three minor events occurred simultaneously. The old grandfather clock struck the hour; Merryweather snapped his watch fob shut and the door opened to reveal a distinguished grey haired man in his early sixties. It was obvious at a glance, despite the gentleman’s civilian dress, that he had until recently been an active military man – his stance and bearing displayed such as did his no nonsense stare and analytical eyes. My own eyes were drawn to his impressive handlebar moustache, thicker and greyer than my own … a strange thing to observe at such a time, but such is the way of the human mind on occasion.
Merryweather rose to greet our visitor and once introductions were exchanged and Colonel Danforth was seated, my friend bade him begin his tale and we listened without interruption as the story unfolded.
“Gentlemen, I am not a man given to idle fancy. No, indeed I am too pragmatic in my dealings to give much credence to myth, legend and old wives tales. I am a down to earth type who prefers to deal in reality and cold, hard scientific fact. Yet with my own eyes I have witnessed … I can only describe them as unexplainable incidents. In the years since I have endeavoured to either find rational explanations for my experiences or to put them from my mind. I had been rather successful, for the most part, at the latter for some years … until recently.”
He paused to light a cigar “I shall start at the beginning. The year was ‘49 and I was 26 years old and lately arrived in India as a special Attaché/Observer to the British army based in Peshawar. My position was part of a program specially designed to cement closer ties between the United States and the United Kingdom and was mostly of a political nature. I was one of the few military men involved, already a Lieutenant and a veteran of the Mexican wars. My special status entitled me to see service within the British Indian Army and during that time I became fast friends with a man only a few years younger than myself; your father Sgt. James Merryweather. This, of course, was a good few years before your birth David. Your father later gained his commission and was transferred from India to Burma.”
Merryweather nodded slightly. He sat, hands clasped with the fingertips resting against his nose, listening intently.
The Colonel continued, “Some months after my arrival I chanced to become involved in an action taking place to quell a local uprising. A Company of troops commanded by Major John Helnitt was attacked as we marched through a heavily wooded region on our way back from settling a dispute between two minor warlords. The ambush took us completely by surprise and so well planned had it been that the tribesmen managed to split our force in twain, almost wiping out the smaller section. Meanwhile the rest of the Company were obliged to retreat somewhat before digging in to defend itself just beyond the jungle at the edge of the mountainous region.”
“A small group of us, with myself as the most senior officer present, was forced deeper into the woodland, harried by scattered groups of tribesmen as we went. At last we outdistanced them but by then we were hopelessly lost ourselves in the heart of the jungle. Three days passed and men died of their wounds or of fever brought on by exposure. Our medical officer, surgeon lieutenant Malcolm Macomb, fought against this but in vain. Every one of the poor wretches to catch the fever succumbed.”
“At last we came to the foot of a great mountain within the dense undergrowth – five pitiful survivors more dead than alive. Your father was one David, along with myself, Macomb and two private soldiers Delaney and Randall. There we came, exhausted and with the fever upon us and at that spot we collapsed.”
The Lost Civilisation of Kolobad.
“So it appeared that we had at last come to the end, but when next I awoke it was to a cool breeze and soft cushions instead of hard jungle floor. A woman of extraordinary beauty was mopping my brow with a cool sponge and when I struggled to sit up she admonished me gently, seeming unperturbed at my sudden awakening.”
“As she spoke soothingly I realised I could understand her although it was plain she wasn’t speaking any language I had ever heard … rather it was as if her thoughts entered my head. Yet she spoke aloud and on one level I understood, but on another it was as if a second, strange tongue were overlaid. In any case I soon learned to block this second layer of speech out and it was as if she spoke perfect English.”
“Her name was Helenia and her features a strange mix of Indian and Caucasian with what I fancied gave her an almost Mediterranean appearance despite her blonde hair. Helenia took me to the others and we found out that we were high up in the mountain having been discovered at its foot by inhabitants of the lost city they called Kolobad.”
“When we were well enough, Helenia took us to be introduced to Appollus, the man we took to be the ruler of Kolobad (although later it appeared that a benign Council of Guidance administered a city of equals) and we attended a feast in our honour where we witnessed many marvels. The people of Kolobad claimed to be descended from a colony of ancient Greeks who had arrived in this region during the time of Alexander.”
“They claimed to have conquered hunger, want and illness and to have spent the last few centuries advancing in the fields of Philosophy and the Arts, until they had developed a spiritual society devoted to peace and the expansion of the human brain. Thus, they claimed they had turned to the study of the powers of the mind. In later years I convinced myself that much of what we saw was the result of a mass hypnosis of some kind, but…”
He shook his head “In the weeks we were with them, James and myself spent much time discussing philosophy with Appollus and Helenia, although I must confess I was more an observer than an active participant. Surgeon Lt Macomb … Malcolm, was most interested in studying the medical advances made by the people of Kolobad while Larry Delaney and Adam Randall seemed content just to enjoy the company of the innocent young maids who would lavish food, wine and attention on them as they relaxed by the fountains in the elaborate city gardens.”
“Then, one day during a discussion about the history of the city, Appollus claimed to have conquered death … he himself, he asserted was nearly two centuries old although appearing a man of thirty. Malcolm was intrigued and asked by what means the people of Kolobad had achieved this miracle and so Appollus took us to a chamber within the building we referred to as ‘The Palace’ and showed us an elixir contained in a golden jar. By drinking of the elixir a man could be prepared for the ceremony of immortality our host told us. Macomb was fascinated, but as James discreetly pointed out to me later, our two private soldiers seemed more interested in the vast treasure chamber in which the elixir jar was stored. It was a veritable Aladdin’s cave of riches, full to the brim with gold, diamonds, precious stones each of which was enough to make a man rich.”
“That night James and I spoke again. We sensed trouble in the offing and indeed the other three were nowhere to be found. James shared his concerns with Helenia with whom he had grown quite close.” Merryweather’s eyebrows raised momentarily.
“We bade her lead us to the jewel chamber and found the other three as we’d expected had likewise gained entry. Delaney and Randall were filling their packs with loot while Macomb searched for the elixir jar, which had vanished from its previous position. I ordered them to desist but to no avail and a scuffle broke out. Delaney back handed Helenia and your father grappled with him while Randall pulled out his revolver to cover me.”
“Before we could do each other harm, the room suddenly filled with guards led by Appollus, who told an unbelieving Macomb that the elixir was nothing without the mystical ceremony of ‘Becoming.’ The Council leader had suspected treachery but allowed Macomb the opportunity to redeem or condemn himself … allowed us all I should say, as we were each tarred with the same brush. Despite Helenia’s pleas we were to be expelled from Kolobad that very night.”
“James addressed him with sadness in his voice for he had come to love this city and I suspect Helenia. ‘Will we never be allowed to return?’ he asked, and Appollus relented slightly ‘Only one may return,’ he told us ‘When 30 years or more have passed, the way will be open for the last among you and restored youth, immortality and riches will be his.’ He handed us each a piece of paper kept in a leather wallet. Each piece had markings on one fifth of the paper. He then warned us that should we attempt to kill each other to gain the other segments, our way back would be lost forever. We were then blindfolded and led to the bottom of the mountain.”
“We found ourselves in the exact same spot we had arrived at and our guards had vanished. Try as we might to find an entrance, none could be found. Nor indeed did the sheer face seem climbable in any way. Therefore we set out to the south and having been well supplied eventually found our way out of the jungle and home. We each resolved to say nothing of this affair to anyone and parted company.”
“For my part I was prepared to write off our adventure. Yes, we had encountered a mysterious lost race, but of tricksters and charlatans I believed. True, they were prosperous and seemed advanced in the healing arts, but what of their absurd claims to mysticism and immortality and the uncanny powers of the mind they had demonstrated? Mere illusion and trickery I felt. Levitation? I scoffed at it… the movement of matter by pure thought? Absurd. As for the projection of thoughts into another’s head. Why it was nonsensical. The Kolobadians were the worst kind of false gurus and fakers, using hypnosis and sleight of hand to fool us for reasons of their own. Perhaps so we would keep quiet rather than appear fools.”
“I thought no more of it until a day months later when once again we skirmished with rebels and Private Delaney perished by gunshot. That night I happened upon the leather wallet in my bureau and saw that now two fifths of the map were covered … still unreadable but covered. I sought out your father and he agreed to fetch his own map. Two fifths were covered! Amongst Delaney’s effects we found his leather wallet. Within, the map had crumbled to fragments.”
“A decade later I received the sad news from Burma that my old friend Lt Merryweather had died in action. Filled with foreboding but a morbid curiosity, I checked my leather wallet. Three fifths were covered and I can only presume such was the case with Macomb and Randall. Repulsed, I threw the accursed thing on the fireplace, but it refused to burn! So, soon after, on my long awaited recall to America, I left the wallet in my rooms and boarded ship for home. Two days out to sea I found the wallet sitting on my desk in my cabin. Several times more I tried to rid myself of it, only to have it return wherever I went.”
“Five years ago I settled in Holyoke with my ward Katherine, my only living relative since the death of her mother, my elder sister. It was about that time I received word of Macomb’s death at sea and sure enough the map was now covered by a fourth segment. So only Randall remained. Did he still harbour desires for wealth and immortality? As for myself I was content to age gracefully and enjoy my retirement, spending time with my dear niece.”
“Then a month ago I noticed the map was complete. Inquiries informed me that Adam Randall had passed away quietly after a long illness. I was the surviving member of our unofficial tontine, though I felt no need to collect; but then some strange events took place. First of all my house was ransacked although nothing was taken. Shortly afterwards I was accosted in the street by two hoodlums who searched my person. One roughly demanded I give them the map, but the map has been kept these last few years in a safety deposit box at my bank, where, thankfully, it had consented to remain. Then came the letters threatening my safety and that of my niece unless I surrender the ‘Kolobad Map’… couched in those exact terms and THAT gentlemen is my entire story.”
Note to my readers: Originally this was intended to be a two part story, but due to time constraints and reader requests, I’ve decided to break with tradition and present this “two part” story in three parts (Parts one, part 2.1 and 2.2) in order to get more of the story out quicker than I’d otherwise be able to. I hope you enjoy it.
Part 2.1 of The Case of The Unofficial Tontine
Merryweather remained seated for a moment saying nothing; his fingertips still clasped together beneath his chin. Finally he spoke, addressing his comments to me. “I have of course heard the gist of the Colonel’s tale in his letter. I wanted you to hear it too, Deacon, and, of course, the smallest of details I needed to hear myself. With the facts and personalities in my position, I’ve already begun several thought tracks with the hopes of finding a solution.”
“Then you believe me, Sir?” The colonel asked.
“I believe that you believe in everything that you have detailed colonel. You are, as you have stated, either the victim of prolonged trickery or these occurrences are exactly as they claim to be. I discount neither possibility. Indeed, I am personally aware that, to use an old quote ‘There is more to heaven and Earth than in your philosophy, Horatio.’ I am no stranger to the supernatural.”
“Then you believe these forces are in play here, Merryweather?” I asked
“I’d hesitate to jump to a snap conclusion,” my friend answered.
“But surely the length of time…the changing face of the maps. Years passed between these incidents.”
The colonel nodded his agreement, but Merryweather merely inclined his head and smiled slightly. “Consider, Deacon,” he began, “the initial incidents all took place nearly 40 years ago. Perhaps as the colonel conjectured, they could all be explained by a form of mass hypnosis. There then followed separate related happenings concerning the maps. The first mere months later, the second a decade after, then again five years ago and culminating with the final map alteration a month ago. All of which coincided with the death of one of the unofficial Kolobad Tontine. Supernatural or again hypnosis?”
I shook my head in disbelief .”Over the course of 40 years! Do you propose someone mesmerised Colonel Danforth in each instance?”
“Preposterous,” chipped in the Colonel, but with an element of doubt in his voice. “and what of the returning map?” he queried with greater confidence.
“A trifle,” said Merryweather “A mesmeric post hypnotic suggestion preventing you the ridding yourself of the thing. You went to throw it away, but in fact you only thought you did.”
A look of enlightenment crossed the military man’s face “All trickery, but who…”
Now Merryweather looked Colonel Preston Danforth Square in the eyes “I never said it was definitely trickery. I merely endeavoured to explain things in the most rational manner but I”ll admit there are holes in the whole thing that I cannot rationally explain and if you’ll forgive my continual reliance on quotations, I should like to quote from a contemporary of mine when I say ‘When all other possibilities are investigated and discarded, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ However gentlemen, I must state that the mystery of Kolobad and its maps are of secondary importance. Whoever has been behind these threats to the Colonel certainly believes in the authenticity of the Kolobad map and it is this unknown personage we should direct our efforts towards discovering. Colonel, I should like to see the map itself and the letters. When is it convenient for Deacon and myself to call?”
“Why, tomorrow should be fine my boy. What time would suit?”
“The afternoon sir. Shall we say four o’clock? I am a late riser, due to keeping nocturnal hours.” Merryweather glanced at his pocket watch “Ah ten o’clock. Deacon be so good as to summon Collins and ask him to prepare a late supper for three. You’ll stay, of course, Colonel Danforth. The Halibut in béarnaise sauce is not to be missed and The Tem serves an impeccable Chardonnay to accompany the dish.”
We Call On The Colonel for Tea
The following afternoon I met Merryweather on the corner of Bridge Street and we proceeded to Quinlain heights for our appointment with our esteemed client, although client is perhaps the wrong word to use. Merryweather has a case by case policy for dispensing his services in the field of detection. He accepts cases if he has an interest and would often refer a high paying routine case to the police while engaging a penniless client with a challenging mystery. I’ve personally never seen Merryweather pocket a red cent out of any fees he might be awarded, although he would often deduct expenses from a high commission and donate the bulk to charity or a worthy cause. On other occasions when he has accepted low commission, as in the case of the ‘Nine Cent Adventure,’ Merryweather would unfailing reach into his own deep pockets to supply any expenditure that might be wrought during a case.
The Danforth residence proved to be an impressive 12 bedroom Georgian situated in the centre of Quinlain Heights. Although only halfway up the hill in a prestigious part of suburban Holyoke, the occupants of the house were still afforded a marvellous view of Holyoke Bay and the city beyond. What magnificent sunsets might be seen from one of the benches in the nearby park!
Merryweather adjusted his cravat, slightly uncomfortable in the warm sun, but impeccably dressed as always; raised his catshead cane to the dark oak door and tapped twice firmly upon the wood. Within moments we were ushered into the cool fastness of the darkened hallway, a sharp contrast to the brightness of the sun from a moment before.
Colonel Preston Danforth emerged from a nearby room and greeted us “David, Mr Deacon. Good of you to come. Please come through to my study.”
We entered and were soon seated and enjoying afternoon tea as Merryweather studied the Kolobad map, retrieved by the Colonel that morning on my friend’s instructions. Presently Merryweather set aside his eyepiece (an old and valued tool, more commonly used by those in the diamond trade) and addressed us. “Detail, consistency and materials tell me nothing apart from the fact that this is a perfectly ordinary papyrus map of a type originated in ancient Egypt – the making of which is still known today, but, of course, an outmoded form. The ink base is a much advanced type – carbon based and I should date the age of this particular map at around 40 years. A precise estimate is of course impossible without access to the proper tools within my laboratory. The detail contained on the face should allow us, in conjunction with maps of the region to track the precise location of the lost city should we endeavour to do so. All in all, setting aside the fact that the map leads to a lost civilisation, it is unremarkable and exactly as I suspected. Gentleman let us turn our attention to other avenues.”
It was then that we heard a sound behind us and a young woman entered the room. We all stood as she glanced around at us with interest before addressing the Colonel “Please excuse me Uncle,” she began “Some telegrams have arrived for your guests. They were marked urgent, so I thought I’d better bring them up at once.”
The Colonel chuckled. “My dear, you know perfectly well Bettling could have performed that task, but now that you’re here allow me to introduce my guests, which I’m sure was your very reason for coming.”
The young lady blushed prettily for a moment and lowered her eyes in a most becoming way as the Colonel stated my name. “… and Captain David Merryweather,” our host was concluding as his niece chanced to look up. I fancied I saw my friend start slightly as his dark brown eyes met her blue ones. The impression lasted only a second, for Merryweather abruptly straightened and bowed slightly as Colonel Danforth said “Gentlemen, my niece Katherine Conn.”
“Miss Conn,” Merryweather addressed her, taking her hand and again locking eyes with the young lady for a few seconds before she shyly glanced away.
This time there was no mistaking it. For Merryweather this was a display of emotion on an unprecedented scale.
The young lady in question was undoubtedly a beauty. Aged around 20 years old, she was diminutive and slender, her auburn hair worn neatly pinned up. Her attire one supposed the height of fashionable chic but at the same time simplistically elegant and worn without the added adornments that made many a fashionable lady of my acquaintance seem merely pretentious. Of course, we invited her to stay and Merryweather was kind enough to repeat his earlier observations for the lady’s benefit as she listened most intently and with intelligent understanding of his points.
“Last night,” my friend continued “I left the Tem at a late…or rather early hour and travelled to an inn downtown.”
This was news to me as the Colonel and I had been in his company until half past eleven!
“As you could guess by the hour and the location, this…establishment was not a reputable one, but I was sure I would find one Thomas “Hooks” Varney on the premises. I was correct.” Blank faces all around. “Mr Varney,” Merryweather added “is distinguished by two very obvious features and while I have personal knowledge of at least three gentlemen of the lower criminal fraternity possessed of hooks instead of a right hand, only one also possesses a purple irised glass eye in his left socket.”
The colonel’s own eyes lit up. “Of course! One of the thugs that accosted me.” And I remembered that the retired military man had furnished us with a full description at dinner last night. Miss Conn smiled at Merryweather, her expression bright. “You knew how to find this man based only on my uncle’s description?”
Merryweather inclined his head slightly. “My activities within the field of private detection require a certain knowledge of the denizens of the city’s underworld, Miss Conn. I try to keep my files complete.”
“Oh, how clever! But Captain…”A small concerned gasp escaped her lips. “Do you mean to say you bearded this…criminal within his own den of ruffians?”
“It was necessary Miss Conn and ultimately quite fruitful in providing a lead.”
“I should not like to think of you endangered on our behalf sir.”
“Nonsense my dear,” the Colonel interjected. “Captain Merryweather is quite capable of looking after himself, am I right young man?”
Merryweather allowed himself a slight wry smile “You are, sir. Please don’t concern yourself Miss Conn. With my military training and experience in such matters, I was never in any danger.”
“Oh, but I am concerned dear captain Merryweather,” The young lady retorted. “After all sir, it was our family that they threatened and we who embroiled you in the affair.”
“A commission I gladly accepted.”
I could hold my tongue no longer “Confound it man, you should’ve at least taken me with you. What if the affair had turned violent?”
A pause… “You are right ,of course, old man. Fortunately I was able to handle the matter with a minimum of disruption.”
“And your findings?” prompted Danforth.
“Mr Varney proved most helpful. As I suspected his part in the incident was that of a hired hand. His recruitment and payment were handled by the large bald gentleman who accompanied him – one Tobias Jenks. Jenks was close mouthed on the subject of their purpose and the identity of their employer, but Varney obviously knew that they were after a map, even if he did not know what type of map and why. One thing he did know was that Jenks wasn’t just another hireling but a regular employee of our mystery figure. Tavern gossip and other informative sources leads me to believe that there is an as yet unidentified figure uniting various criminal elements within the city’s underworld. I believe this person to be Jenks’ employer.”
“What do I have to do with this…this gangleader?” spluttered the Colonel
“What indeed,” mused Merryweather, before turning his attention back to our host. “Not a mere gang leader, Colonel. I fear we are dealing with a felon of a higher order. For one, nobody, even among the tavern crowds, seem to have any idea of his identity or his location. Unusual for a gang boss – but our friend seems to have been active for at least six months, operating in shadow and mystery, assembling a chain of command so that each level of the hierarchy orders and reports to the levels below and above, with none certain who reports to our crime lord.”
“What’s our next move?” Colonel Preston Danforth wanted to know.
Merryweather stood. “The connection between this crime lord and he who seeks to possess your map are virtually certain in my mind Colonel. I have suspicions, which I will share with you and Miss Conn presently. First, there are facts to be corroborated and more inquiries to be made.”
“Can you tell us nothing more, Captain Merryweather?” pressed Miss Conn.
“Only that I pursue two avenues, Miss Conn. I await the replies to telegrams sent this morning and I must now track Mr. Jenks and his elusive employer.”
“WE must,” I added firmly.
“Of course, old friend,” Merryweather smiled. “I wouldn”t have it any other way.”
“Then God go with you both,” cried the young lady, echoed by her uncle.
We gathered our coats and hats and bade them farewell.
“Where to first?” I asked as we strode down the street.
Merryweather answered without breaking stride “To Peccary, of course.”
Part 2.2. We visit our old adversary Mr Peccary. Merryweather closes the net. Our foes make themselves known and the affair concludes. To be concluded in next weeks “Holyoke Picture Dispatches” from the journal of the Deacon.
Part 2.2
An interview with Mr Peccary.
The account that follows has been entirely reconstructed from talks with Merryweather following the conclusion of the affair. My friend and I had journeyed from the house in Quinlain Heights to the very heart of Commercial Holyoke where, travelling through the always crowded Americo Lane, we entered Black’s Department Store by the tea shop entrance on the south western face of the building.
A few steps took us into Ladies Haberdashery in the store proper and on through Millinery, Perfumes and past the small florists concession to the quieter realms of the Gentlemen’s Clothing department. Locating the manager of this section, Merryweather took the fellow aside and presented his card, which was promptly sent upstairs to the owner by way of a gangly youth in the store’s employ.
Presently the youth returned to inform us that Mr Peccary would see Captain Merryweather in his offices on the 5th floor at once. I however was obliged to wait downstairs and at Merryweather’s suggestion took afternoon tea in the Tea Room.
Before I commence this part of the narrative, a word or two concerning the background of the man we had come to visit. Older readers will no doubt be familiar with the name of Peccary – Merryweather’s oldest, most insidious foe … a master of intrigue and deception; a man whose podgy fingers could be found in every slice of every pie that made up the darker business dealings of the Holyoke underworld … and yet Peccary’s public reputation was impeccable. Honoured member of the Chamber of Commerce, leading businessman and citizen of our town. He played golf with the Mayor, belonged to all of the most dully upstanding of the cities’ clubs and committees and was held in high esteem by the highest of the morally righteous. For years, on and off Peccary and Merryweather had secretly contended in a series of machiavellian intrigues and always to a state of deadlock. My friend had foiled the grand machinations of Mr Peccary more often than not, but always the fat man had wriggled off the hook without so much as a hint of scandal attached to his name. This then was the man Merryweather now turned to!
Peccary
Mr Peccary was seated behind a large oak desk as Merryweather entered the office. A man of impressive bulk, he was nonetheless surprisingly swift when he chose to move, which this time he did not. Mr Peccary remained behind his desk, shifting only to flick the ash from his cigar into an ornate ashtray
“Ah, my feline friend,’ he said at last, a minute or so after the door had closed leaving the two of them alone in the large office “To what do I owe the honour of your visit?” Peccary inquired as he indicated that his guest should be seated and continued to speak, not giving Merryweather a chance to answer the initial question.
“It has been some time if memory serves. Well over a year,” Merryweather’s corpulent host stated as he offered my friend a well stacked cigar box.
Merryweather inclined his head slightly, taking a cigar and slipping the band from the thick tobacco, and replied “14 months to be exact, although I did run into a mutual acquaintance some eight months ago. I gather you had asked him to pass on a message.”
The folds of flesh in Peccary’s neck wobbled slightly as he leaned forward to clip and light the end of Merryweather’s cigar “Ah yes. My Italian friend, Count Udonatti. I believe he failed to deliver my point.”
Merryweather sat back, cross legged and blew out a plume of smoke with a wry smile. “He certainly tried.”
“Indeed … and what became of our friend?”
“Deported. Duelling is still illegal in this country!”
“He challenged your honour, Captain? What may I ask was the dispute?”
“The Count contended that I had cheated at a hand of baccarat and demanded instant satisfaction. Fortunately I too had a cane … though mine was solid wood and did not conceal a blade.”
Peccary shrugged, “You know these European Noblemen and their honour.”
“Yes … quite, but I haven’t come here to discuss old enmities.”
“Indeed?” Mr Peccary poured two tumblers of port from a crystal decanter “What HAVE you come here to discuss?”
Merryweather accepted his glass and swirled it round thoughtfully for a moment before turning to a chess board set to one side of Peccary’s desk. Studying it, he moved one emerald knight forward in front of the emerald pawns “I’ve been hearing rumours,” he began as he leant his cats head cane on the desk so that the cats head rested gently against the side of the chess set as if its eyes were scanning the middle of the board.
Peccary waited, saying nothing.
Merryweather picked up the crystalline ruby figure of the opposing forces central pawn and moved it one place forward “Rumours of a new player. No one seems to know quite who he is though.” He moved the emerald knight to the centre of the board.
Peccary clasped his hands together “There’s always someone new. A businessman such as myself tends to attract competitors. Such is the way of … commerce and indeed more so with my political dabblings.”
Merryweather still hadn’t taken his eyes from the board. He now pushed the ruby pawn forward. “True and a good businessman or politician can always curtail the advances of small players … known opponents and the like.” Reaching over, Merryweather advanced the emerald knight to take the pawn.
Peccary’s eyes flicked to the gap in the ruby back line a second before Merryweather proceeded to sweep the red queen forward to take the emerald knight.
“An apt metaphor Captain. Your suggestion is I take it that should I encounter a bigger player …” He picked up the red queen and examined it briefly before returning it to its place “An opponent with unfamiliar moves,” he continued, picking up the discarded emerald knight, “This presupposes I cannot anticipate …” Moving the queen back into place, he replaced the red pawn on its old spot and put the emerald knight back to ruby king five “… an obvious lure.” Peccary pushed the emerald pawn in front of his king forward and said”… but suppose I refuse to be baited and instead choose to develop other avenues of attack?”
Merryweather’s right hand moved to his cane “Suppose you do? Suppose you play a more tactical game, developing supported pawn advances, probe your opponents’ defences with your knights and bring forth your other pieces in readiness for an assault at your own pace. Sooner or later a confrontation will inevitably take place and even the best of players will lose assets before a win.”
“I see … and a defensive game would just delay the confrontation?”
“Precisely. Your opponent can only grow stronger given time to prepare as well. OR he might just force a confrontation before you are ready.”
“Your knowledge of chess is most diverting Captain. You have a solution to this scenario I take it?”
“Yes. Don’t play the game.” Slowly and deliberately Merryweather lowered his cane into the middle of the chess board, separating the emerald crystal figurines from the ruby. The eyes of the cat faced the red king and queen.
Peccary studied the board for a minute, his balding head lowered. Then he looked up into the eyes of the man seated opposite him “Suppose there was such an individual … an individual whose interests may someday clash with mine. Suppose such a person existed …” the big man let the end of the thought dangle.
Merryweather leaned closer “I believe this individual does exist and I believe I am very close to knowing all I need to know about him. The last piece of knowledge I lack is a name … an alias.”
Mr Peccary smiled “Ah and then the cat will prowl. Very well. As you know Captain, in the pursuit of my … legitimate business I am obliged to broker knowledge in ah order to serve the interests of this fair city. To that end I employ all manner of … information collectors … hard facts, hearsay, rumour and the like. The great majority of tidbits that my agents report to me are generally useless shreds of no importance to my political and business aspirations. However they make for amusing diversions … and one fragment that sticks to the subconscious could well, now that I choose to recall it, be the nom de guerre of our individual. The name sir is … Macabre!”
The Net Closes.
While Merryweather was conducting his extraordinary interview with Mr Peccary, I was seated by the window of Black’s Tea Room consuming another round of scones and a fifth cup of tea. A slight tapping beside me aroused my attention and I was surprised to see a young urchin staring in at me, his grubby hands smearing the window pane. I hastened outside to talk to the young scrub … for I had recognised him as Monk, a scrawny underfed 13 year old sometimes employed by Merryweather in various capacities such as messenger or even spy.
“Beggin yer pardon Mr Deacon, sir,” he addressed me, pulling his ragged cap off “… but the Cap’n sez I was to give youse these telegrams at once sir. Dead urgent e sez they was an I’ve been awaitin down the exchange all morning sir.”
“Well don’t just stand there boy. Let me see them,” I cried.
Young Monk continued to hold the sheaf of telegrams to his chest. “Cap’n’s eyes only sir. E sez youse was to wait fer im.”
“Confound it you young wretch. If they’re so urgent, I must open them at once, Merryweather or no.”
Stubbornly the wretched snipe refused to part with them, but fortunately at that moment Merryweather reappeared and took matters in hand. Glancing rapidly through the telegrams he flipped a half dollar at the wide eyed boy “Good work young Paulie. Don’t spend it all on gin and come by Saturday. I may have more work for you.”
The dirty urchin bit the coin, grinned and said “Thank yer Cap’n sir,” before running off into the crowd.
We Brave The Hasen District.
Following our brief encounter with young Paulie, Merryweather hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take us to the Tem where we were to meet the Colonel. Again he refused to enlighten me as to his recent findings and infuriatingly would only say “All shall soon be revealed Deacon,” and capped his pronunciation with the most unbecoming of knowing smiles.
On our return to the club, Beard the day porter conducted us to the Gun Room (A rule of the club was that gentlemen should check all firearms at the entrance. The gentleman would receive a receipt on surrendering his weapon to the care of the day or night porter, who would place it in a cabinet in the Gun Room. Access to the room was permitted in the company of either the steward or one of the club porters and viewings were allowed between the hours of six and seven thirty pm on Tuesdays as the Tem did not only keep weapons for its members, but boasted a fine collection of antique and contemporary firearms).
It was while we were selecting our weaponry – for Merryweather had over the years donated a large quantity of pieces that were available to him at any time; that Colonel Preston Danforth finally arrived in a state of some agitation.
Sensing something was amiss, my friend enjoined the elder gentleman to speak without preamble. The brief tale he told rapidly extinguished the light anticipatory look that Merryweather had, had about him for the last few hours.
“Trickery, Sir!” roared the Colonel, waving a note wildly in the air “As I mentioned when last we parted, I had an engagement with my physician that I could not avoid. The appointment itself lasted under an hour but as I was leaving a young ruffian barged into me and I felt him lift my wallet from my coat. I gave chase and caught up to him just as a policeman blocked his path. My wallet was returned and I was obliged to accompany the constable to the station across town to swear out a complaint.”
“When we arrived he showed me to a waiting room and left to process the prisoner. On his prompt return I was interviewed in the waiting room and asked to sign my name to documents which he purported to be a form asserting my willingness to press charges. All in all I was delayed a full two hours and shortly after taking my leave I became suspicious of the manner in which the officer had processed my complaint. I returned and spoke to the duty officer and was informed that no Constable Manton existed within the precinct – nor was any pick pocket charged within the last few hours!”
“On my return home I was informed that a young woman had called for Katherine not twenty minutes before and my niece had left with her in a hurry shortly thereafter and LOOK gentlemen – Katherine left the note behind. It bears my signature but is not from me!”
All colour drained from Merryweather’s face as he turned to me “Curse my over confidence. Macabre has Miss Conn, Deacon. I daresay we have been under observation both at the Colonel’s house and when I visited Peccary. This note purports to be from Colonel Danforth, exhorting his niece to meet us urgently at an address in the Hasen District. An address plainly marked and left for us to discover. Macabre wants us to know he holds the girl and where to find her so we can exchange the map for Miss Conn’s safety!”
As if to punctuate the point, at that moment a note was delivered into Merryweather’s hands. It simply said “Bring the map.” M.
After choosing our firearms we set off at once to first secure the map and then travel by hansom cab to the edges of the infamous Hasen District – It was to Holyoke what Whitechapel was to London. We were accompanied by the Colonel and the stalwart James Beard, who had offered his assistance and was gratefully accepted. It should be noted that Beard was another of Captain David Merryweather’s old associates and no stranger to his nocturnal activities.
As we neared the address Merryweather grew more and more tense. A girl’s life was at stake and he took that fact extremely seriously.
Macabre
The address we had been given turned out to be the entrance to a building which appeared to house some sort of drinking establishment. A closer inspection revealed that the large noisy frontage concealed access to back rooms and the presence of rouged women and gentlemen in states of either agitation or a partial stupor, revealed that the building catered to opium addicts as well as those addicted to the temptations of the flesh.
Three of us entered and stood looking around at the bacchanal like merriment occurring within. The occupants a mixture of thrill seeking gentlemen and the lower orders – a den of iniquity with a music hall atmosphere.
At once a young lady approached us. She was attired as a slattern but with an accent and bearing that marked her as a cut above the low women around us. A fallen woman from the educated classes, no doubt acting as a hostess was my assumption. We followed her up the stairs at the back of the bar to a quiet antechamber where she turned to us “Colonel Danforth, Mr Deacon and Captain Merryweather.” She stated and we could no longer doubt we were anywhere but in the right place.
“Where is my niece?” spluttered the enraged Colonel taking a step forward, prompting me to place a restraining hand on his arm.
Without a word the woman opened a far door and picking up a lantern stepped through into a darkened corridor and beckoned us to follow. We did so as a drunk staggered out of a nearby room off the corridor, bent double as in the act of regurgitation. She led us along the corridor to the far end and through a door which opened into a suite of rooms where two men awaited us. Just beyond the main sitting room we glimpsed the stricken figure of Katherine lying on a bed within guarded by an old crone who was seated by the bed.
“Fiends!!” cried Colonel Preston Danforth “If you’ve harmed one hair on her head, I’ll …”
“You’ll do nothing Colonel,” the thinner of the men broke in “Your niece is in perfect health and sleeping of a dose of chloroform. If you remain quiet and don’t misbehave, she will remain unharmed. Do we understand each other?”
The Colonel nodded, “Macabre I presume?” The dark haired man returned the nod, “The map please. Place it carefully on the table.”
The Colonel moved to comply, ever aware of the eyes of the two other men upon him. The second he recognised as the large bald thug who had accosted him.
The dark haired man smiled “Now, who do we have here? The Colonel of course and you gentlemen must be Captain Merryweather and the Deacon. How does it feel to have been outsmarted and outwitted at every turn? He stared directly at my companion who answered.
“I don’t know. Why not ask the man with the gun to your head?”
There was a click of a pistol cocking and a dark cloaked figure stepped forward. The masked man’s voice was low, “Not a movement and you, old woman, keep your hands where my associates can see them or your boss will require a new forehead.”
“The Catman!!” exclaimed Tobias Jenks. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Through a carelessly unlocked upper floor window. I was able to follow while your pretty friend thought I was throwing up in the hallway.”
“Dash it,” I cried looking round for the woman “She’s gone! At least we have Macabre though.”
“Not quite!” The lady in question was aiming a pistol at my head from the cover of a small closet door I had failed to notice “Now Mr Catman, if you please, drop the pistol before I drop the Deacon.” She covered the few steps and I felt her gun on the back of my head.
Merryweather however, didn’t falter “Madame if you pull that trigger I’ll pull mine and then turn this gun on you. We might both die in the exchange or we might both leap aside. Either way the Colonel and Captain Merryweather,” he looked at Beard, his stand in “… would easily take care of Mr Jenks, leaving two perhaps three of us to oppose you should you have survived and I can guarantee you’ll not leave this room alive.”
“You’re forgetting old Agnes who will surely kill the girl.”
“Old Agnes can be assured of hastily following Miss Conn to the afterworld if she does anything other than sit peacefully until the outcome.”
“It appears we have a standoff,” the girl stated.
Ever aware of the gun to my head, I nevertheless spoke “She’ll dare nothing while we have Macabre.”
My friend smiled grimly “I believed I would find a Dr Macabre here tonight but this fellow is too young to be him … is that not so Miss Macabre or do you prefer Miss Madeleine Macomb?”
If the Colonel’s face was anything to go by, my duplicate expression was one of sheer shock, surprise and to use a bastardisation of my own coinage – agogness.
I felt rather than saw my captor smile. “That is so Captain Merryweather … Yes, I know a secret about you as well.” I heard the gun click and a shot rang out deafening me. Surprised to find myself still alive I again virtually instantaneously felt the gun barrel at my head. This time it was hot against my skin. Merryweather’s hostage lay dead – a bullet had passed directly through his skull!
Miss Macomb or Macabre was speaking again “That’s much better Captain. I would have hated to reveal your secret to Peccary’s spy. I’m almost certain the big man knows but it wouldn’t be knowledge he’d care to share amongst his lower ranks. Please put the gun down Captain. You have nobody to threaten but Mr Jenks and although he is a loyal, trusted member of my organisation, be under no misapprehension that I value his life enough to capitulate. Ah I see Mr Jenks has already acted in his own self interest and is even now covering you with his own pistol!”
Merryweather inclined his head slightly “Congratulations Madame. You have the upper hand.”
“Captain, I have the only hand,” Miss Macabre replied.
“I must confess I am not used to being outmanoeuvred thus and while I would be prepared to take a bullet in the chest myself, you can be assured I will do nothing while you threaten my friend.”
His eyes had flicked briefly to mine during this speech and I fancied I had heard a slight inflection in his tone as he spoke “prepared”. My friend had given me a coded message in plain English and now the outcome was in my hands. I decided to act and several things occurred at once.
Miss Macabre was taken unawares, her attention being firmly riveted on the masked figure before her; when I abruptly dropped to the floor and kicked backwards with both my legs to knock her off balance. Two shots rang out and I saw the Catman crumple – but already Beard was racing forwards to strike Jenks firmly in the jaw whilst the Colonel leaped over me to snatch the female mastermind’s pistol from her grip as she struggled to rise.
Jenks was a big man and seemingly impervious to Beard’s valiant efforts but the stalwart porter soon received aid when Merryweather rose up, seemingly unaffected by the blast to his chest. Between the pair of them the large thug was felled like a stricken oak. For my own part I was still sprawled on the floor witness to our sudden reversal, for not only had Beard and Merryweather triumphed, but Colonel Preston Danforth had secured Madeline Macomb’s pistol and was covering her.
Then barely a second later the lights went out, there was a huge crash and I felt someone brush past me. When order and lighting were restored, the situation stood as follows:
Merryweather and Beard stood over the prone form of the fallen Jenks – the Colonel was down and the female architect of the whole business was gone … as was the Kolobad map, vanished from the upturned table.
Merryweather immediately raced into the next room and emerged with a half conscious Katherine “Thank God she is unharmed,” he assured himself and her anxious uncle “but Macabre is gone … and he has taken his daughter and the map with him!”
“HIS daughter?” I asked non comprehendingly. “Yes Deacon … Dr Macabre has escaped,” Merryweather announced, holding up a grotesque, frighteningly realistic rubber mask – the face and hair of the old woman Agnes!
Epilogue. Dinner at the house in Quinlain Heights.
That evening we returned for a very late supper at the Danforth residence. The Colonel himself presided with Miss Con acting as hostess between exchanging adoring glances with my good friend and man of the hour, Captain David Merryweather. James Beard and myself made up the rest of the party.
“What I don’t understand my boy,” the retired military man was saying “Is how you knew Malcolm Macomb was behind the whole plot to relieve me of my map? How the deuce could he have been when all four of my fellow tontines had to be dead to fulfil the supernatural requirements needed to produce the complete map!?”
Merryweather took a sip from his glass of Madeira before answering “Colonel, I had asked you for a full account of your story. From that I devised a short list of exactly who stood to benefit from the Kolobad map. It then fell to me to cross names from that list until I found the most likely suspect. To that end I sent out telegrams designed to discern information about each of the principals and their immediate family. It was apparent from the start that the secret of the Kolobad map, by its nature was a closely kept one and unlikely that it would have been made known to any outsiders.”
“The first of the tontine to perish, mere months later, was Lawrence Delaney, an orphaned private soldier in his early twenties. Delaney died without family or issue. A decade or so later my own father died of a tropical disease, leaving me his only child. Five years ago the death of Dr Malcolm Macomb was reported at sea. He left behind one daughter, a fifteen year old named Madeline who had not seen her father since she was an infant. Madeline’s mother had died in childbirth and the girl had been raised by nuns. This left only the Colonel and his niece and the recently deceased Adam Randall. Randall had become a successful businessman but had never married.”
“Could he have fathered a child in secret?” Beard asked.
“My inquiries tell me otherwise,” Merryweather replied “Randall shared a house with a … gentleman companion. He did however have a brother and a sister. The brother was a banker’s clerk with a wife and three adult children. My sources lead me to suspect that in no way had Randall divulged any information to his family, nor would they be inclined to give such matters any credence. All in all, simple, respectable middle class people. The sister incidentally is a vicar’s wife most noted for her charitable works.”
I glanced quickly over at Miss Conn. Merryweather could be tactless at times, especially when outlining the details of a case, but fortunately the young lady seemed to have totally overlooked the “gentleman companion” remark.
Merryweather continued, “Having met Miss Conn, I could not suspect her of any duplicity towards her uncle and so I returned to Madeline Macomb. It seemed unlikely given the circumstances that she should be aware of the secret of Kolobad or that she would have the resources of a criminal leader … unless she had joined her father at a point AFTER his supposed death. That Macomb had died; I cannot dispute for his death was vital to the maps completion. However he need not remain dead!”
At these words the Colonel, Beard and myself began to ask the same question that was on all our minds. Merryweather waited patiently until he had all our attention and explained
“I had gathered from the Colonel’s story and other questions I had put to him that Dr. Malcolm Macomb had a deep interest in the spiritual, fanned by his time in Kolobad and his desire for the secret of immortality. Further inquiries told me that Macomb had spent time travelling in India and Tibet where I deduced he picked up a fabled ancient yogic secret. The possessor of this knowledge could then slow his heart beat to the point of death occurring and then subsequently revive from this state. In my readings on the subject, I discovered claims that an adept can remain in such a state for anything from thirty seconds to five minutes. Macomb knew his gamble had paid off when his own map crumbled to dust within his leather pouch, just as Delaney’s and my father’s had done!”
“Astounding!” I exclaimed.
“Indeed, Deacon. Macomb was then free to fake his death, return to England to be secretly reunited with Madeline, and wait for one of the two remaining holders of the map to die. Then the Macombs travelled here to Holyoke, started a criminal organisation within the city – and, incidentally, I believe they had already built a powerful criminal syndicate elsewhere before relocating. Therefore with the map complete, they were able to start their plan to coerce Colonel Danforth to relinquish it to them.”
“Yes!” I cried “… and at that point WE became involved and you deduced the underworld connection due to the presence of Varney, a known felon!”
“Precisely. However the Macombs had secrecy and a large network of spies going for them. No one in their organisation knew the identity of ‘Macabre’ except their top men and even they believed Madeline was in charge.”
Beard interjected at this point, “Somehow they discovered you were the Catman.”
“True. I had been careless and underestimated the opposition. Peccary’s spy – the Macabre stand in, threw me and I was completely unaware that Dr Macabre was present disguised as the old woman. I was slightly more prepared in my choice of a protective vest and fortunately Deacon picked up on my signal to act and we were able to salvage victory.”
“If only we had prevented the loss of the map,” I lamented.
Merryweather smiled and reached into his pocket “A fake old fellow!” he declared “but I daresay it will take Dr. and Miss Macabre a few months to discover that.”
Miss Conn smiled “Then they’ll be wandering around India looking for a needle in a haystack! How poetic such a fate is, if we can’t bring them to justice.”
My friend raised his glass and smiled wryly “An inconvenience richly deserved my dear Katherine, but I daresay we haven’t heard the last of them.”
I raised my own glass “A toast then. To the Catman, his return engagement with the diabolical Dr Macabre, and the eventual imprisonment of the fiend!”
… and so the affair concluded. But what then of Macabre and his daughter Madeline? Merryweather’s remarks were indeed prescient for they did return to contend with us once more, but as for the outcome … I shall leave you dear reader with Merryweather’s own words:
“THAT is a tale for another day.” Adieu
Story Notes.
The Catman was published in Catman Comics but debuted in Crash Comics from a different publisher. Altogether Catman appeared under three publishing banners, all of which are mentioned in homage. In order of appearance in the story:
Holyoke City was named for Catman’s major publisher “Holyoke.”
The Tem St Gentleman’s club is named for “Tem Publishing” the initial company name for the Holyoke line when Catman appeared in Crash.
Major John Helnitt was named for “Helnitt” the company name in initial issues of Catman before the Holyoke name became the staple. It was not unusual for comic companies to have several names such as Nedor/Better/Standard or Timely/Atlas/Marvel depending on sub divisions or name changes or characters moving companies.
The Deacon – A Golden Age Holyoke character who occupied a berth as a back up strip in Catman Comics. The Deacon and the Catman once shared a crossover story which established the pair as old friends. The first name Nathaniel is my own invention and his appearance in this story marks his first post Golden Age story.
The Case of the 9 Cent Adventure – Had a little fun with this reference. Do I really need to explain it to comics fans!
Quinlain Heights is named for Charles Quinlan, one of the premier artists on Catman. I simply added an I for my homage.
Katherine Conn is Katie Conn, aka the Kitten, Catman’s partner and later wife.
Mr Peccary – The first of Catman’s two arch enemies. Artistically he was said to have been modelled on the actor Sidney Greenstreet. I have adhered my description to the original.
Americo Lane – Named for Americomics the long version of AC Comics.
Blacks Department Store – Named for AC publisher and founder Bill Black.
Paulie Monk – Named for Paul Monsky, the founder of the Femfans page and the gent who asked me to write the story which would develop into the Unofficial Tontine. The character of Paulie also follows my loose Sherlock Holmes/Watson story analogy and is of course meant to resemble a Baker Street boy.
James Beard – A thinly veiled disguise for up and coming DC writer Jim Beard, a fellow poster and sometime correspondent of mine from the DCBoards. Jim has worked on a few JSA and Hawkman projects with more to come I’m sure.
The Hasen District – Named for Irwin Hasen, Golden Age great and the creator of Catman.
Miss Macabre – Madeline Macomb, daughter of Dr Macabre.
Dr Macabre – Malcolm Macomb, the later and most unrelenting of Catman’s two arch enemies. Both Macabre’s can occasionally be seen in the pages of AC’s Femforce.
by Femfan1 from story concepts by P. O’Donnel
A gloved hand reached up to knock on the massive oaken door. A courtesy. She had been under constant video surveillance since her vehicle had entered the front drive. Upon her arrival, the steel security gate had swung open allowing her access to the walled compound of the estate. She was expected. Indeed, her presence had been requested.
Before she could rap her knuckles against the wood, the door clicked open and she was confronted by a large man in an ill-fitting suit. His unbuttoned jacket did little to conceal the bulge of the automatic weapon beneath.
Disappointment registered on his face as his eyes gave her the once over. With a gesture, he ushered her inside, closing the door behind her.
“Please, follow me.”
The Weapons Mistress took in the floorplan of the rooms as she casually obeyed the instruction. To the side, rooms led to more rooms, interconnected, while the entrance foyer shifted into a narrower hallway at the center of the dual staircase between which they now travelled. At the back of the hallway, a left turn brought them into a study where two more men talked. The larger of the two gentlemen was dressed much like her guide and was roughly the same height, although a little puffier. The seated man, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, was almost certainly her host. Their conversation broke off as she entered the room.
“Ahhh, Colt! Thank you, for coming!” The man rising to his feet extended his hand in welcome. “I’m Jim Courtwright.”
“Hello, Mr. Courtwright.” Colt nodded to her host and acknowledged his companion, as well.
“Forgive me, this is my head of security, Bill Mueller.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. What can I do for you, Mr. Courtwright? You seemed to be in quite a hurry to see me.”
“Mmm… right to it. Yes, that’s for the best. Wilson, would you mind leaving us alone for a moment. Close the door behind you, please.”
Her guide exited the room and the door shut.
“Would you like to have a seat?”
“Thank you.” Colt moved toward the offered chair but, feigning distraction, detoured to the antique flintlock pistol displayed on the wall. “I take it you’re an afficionado of firearms, Mr. Courtwright?”
“Uhm, yes, yes, I am. Well, antiques, actually. Not just firearms, either. Furnishings, sculptures…” Breaking off his thought, he lifted a piece of paper from his desk and extended it towards her. “This is why I’ve asked to meet with you.”
Colt took the piece of paper, blank except for a short note printed in standard type.
“Enjoy tomorrow because the next sunset will be the last time you live to see daylight.”
An agitated Courtwright held up a handful of similar papers. “These came before. I hadn’t taken them very seriously. Because of my wealth, the threat of kidnaping for ransom is always present. I’ve even had threats on my life before as a result of ill feelings after business deals. Mueller here has been handling my security for many years and I have the utmost confidence in his abilities. No threat has ever come close to being carried out.”
The big man’s eyes seemed to be staring a hole in the floor. Colt handed the threatening note back to Courtwright.
“I initially hired Bill because he had the reputation as one of the best security men in the business. He’s proven his abilities and I’ve trusted him with my life. However, while one of the best, he’s not ‘the best’ in the business. From all I understand, that title belongs to you, and present circumstances require that I be protected by the best.”
“What makes the most recent threat of any more concern than the others, Mr. Courtwright?” Colt studied Mueller’s attempts to hide his discomfort at the perceived injury to his reputation by his employer.
“The fact that it was waiting on my pillow when I went to bed last night. That’s a breach of security that’s unprecedented. What’s worse, nobody can tell me how it happened so I can’t be certain it won’t happen again.”
“So, you want to hire me to find out how security was breached.”
“Yes, for a start. I also want to live to see tomorrow morning and I want whoever’s making these threats caught. If you’re as good as I hear you are, and given the rather specific nature of the most recent threat, I believe we’re talking about one night’s work. Needless to say, I’ll pay handsomely for your services.”
Colt considered the offer. She wished she had more background on her potential client. The quick background check she had completed this morning before agreeing to meet with him had revealed only that he had no criminal record or known criminal associates. Her more detailed check conducted on the plane ride here had disclosed that much of his wealth had been inherited, although he had invested wisely and had added to the family fortune. A rare mention in the society pages. An even rarer mention in the financial section. He seemed nervous, eager to have her accept his offer. Natural under the circumstances.
“My normal rate for investigation is $1000 a day, plus expenses. I don’t generally act as a bodyguard, although under the circumstances keeping you alive is part of the deal. In that regard, I wouldn’t want there to be any friction with Mr. Mueller and his associates. I’d appreciate his assistance, but I’d be working for you.”
“$1000?” Courtwright reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a stack of bills. Peeling two from the top, he handed them to Colt. “This being Friday, I went to the bank and withdrew some money so that I’d have cash for a down payment in the event you agreed to help me. It appears my idea of the value of my life is quite a bit higher than your ‘normal’ rate. Strange, I find myself wishing you’d asked for more, although I suppose I’ll get your best effort no matter what I pay.”
Colt took the bills and slipped them into her jacket pocket. “I’ll need a rundown of everything that’s happened so far. A layout of the estate and the buildings on it, and the security measures in place.”
“Of course! Bill, take care of it.”
Mueller nodded his head in assent. “Yes, sir! Colt if you’ll come with me we can head over to the main security room and I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Colt followed Mueller out of the study and down a staircase. The security chief seemed to be handling the incursion into his area of responsibility well. He swiped a passcard through a reader and a metal door opened into a room full of video monitors. Sitting down at a table, he pushed a folder in her direction. “Here’s a copy of the file. Everything we’ve got on this case.”
The Weapons Mistress surveyed the contents. “Mm-hmm. Tell me about the estate.”
“About 25 acres. Roughly rectangular. It’s walled on 3 sides. Stone. You saw. About 8 feet high. The top has broken glass cemented onto it and a 3 foot barbed-wire extension tilted out. There are motion sensors on the inside perimeter set about 4 feet high and 10 feet wide. The fourth side is a cliff face that looks out on the ocean. There’s a 12 foot high electrified fence that’s turned on at night. There’s also a security gate that leads to steps down to the beach. Three of my people patrol the grounds randomly every night, coding in their arrival at checkpoints they’re required to reach at least once every hour. We also have electronic video surveillance of the grounds. The cameras pan automatically but can also be manually operated from this room. There are no blindspots within 100 yards of the main house.”
“What about the other buildings?”
“A guest house, a 6-car garage, an outdoor kitchen, a shower when you come up from the beach. We’ve swept the structures and all are empty. Video surveillance around each.”
“How about surveillance inside the main house?”
“None. Mr. Courtwright doesn’t want it. Instead, he’s got live-in security. Myself, Wilson, Jones, de Souza, and Ames. Those are my people. We’ve all worked together at least 10 years. They’re professionals. I just don’t know how this guy got into the house!”
“Guy?”
“Man, woman, who knows. My gut says it’s a guy!”
“Mmm…Okay, theories on how the threat got into his room?”
“He was at a charity function last night. People knew that he’d be attending and that it would run late. Three of us were with him, so only two people were left to watch the grounds. One outside and one in this room. Neither saw or heard anything suspicious.”
“What about other staff?”
“A cook, a butler, and a maid. They had left for the day before we headed out to the charity event on Thursday evening. This morning he called them all and gave them today and the rest of the weekend off. Fewer people for us to keep track of inside the house.”
“Okay, I’d like to meet the rest of your people.”
“Let’s take a walk.”
With efficiency, Colt was introduced to Candace Jones, Patricia de Souza and Ronald Ames, and re-introduced to Phil Wilson. All four seemed fiercely loyal to Mueller but she didn’t sense great irritation that she had been employed. The Weapons Mistress found it odd that they weren’t more ticked off that she was there. It would only be natural for them to be annoyed by the thought that their employer had found their services deficient.
By the time she had inspected the length of the grounds and all of the structures, it was dusk. Colt returned with Mueller to the main house where both once again met with Mr. Courtwright.
The Weapons Mistress wasted no time, “Let Mr. Mueller and his people handle things on their end, business as usual. I’d like to put a wire on you so that we can communicate directly at any time. I’m aware of your feelings about your privacy b…”
“Nonsense! These are extraordinary circumstances. You want me to wear a wire, I’ll wear a wire!”
“Good. That’s sensible.” Colt pulled a small transmitter/receiver from a pouch on her belt and inserted it inside Courtwright’s ear. One of her own earrings received transmissions on the same frequency. “Okay, everyone can carry on as usual. I’ll be around.”
With that pronouncement, the Weapons Mistress turned on her heels and walked toward the steps leading to the main security room, leaving Courtwright to ponder what exactly she would be doing to protect him. After a moment’s hesitation, Mueller followed.
“You’ll be around?” A grin flashed across Mueller’s face.
“Yeah. I want to see those floorplans again and I’m going to want access to every room in the house.”
Mueller slid his access card through the door lock and they entered the security room. “Sure, I’ll tell my people not to get in your way.”
The bank of video monitors panned the grounds. “Well, the sun’s set. 9 hours ‘till dawn. Time to get to work.” Colt strode out of the security room with plans in hand, leaving Mueller to oversee his own people. Something about the “security” didn’t seem right to her, but she didn’t sense that any of them were behind Courtwright’s troubles. The first question to answer was how somebody got into the house to leave the note. Even with only two security people present last night, the other measures should ordinarily have been sufficient to keep unwanted intruders from accessing the grounds. Perhaps a highly skilled thief? Not usually the type to commit murder. Although not out of the question. Dollface leapt to mind! Still, what dealings would Courtwright have had with her?
Another possibility was an inside job. Her earlier walk-through of the house hadn’t measured up. Now, as she paced the formal living room, it was clear that the dimensions did not correspond with the floorplan. Secret passageways wouldn’t be uncommon in a house of this vintage. If the occupants knew of them, why wasn’t she told, and, if they didn’t, who might?
In her ear, she listened to Courtwright as he prepared for bed. The sound of the TV turning on caught her attention. Reaching into her belt, she activated her transmitter, “Mr. Courtwright, please turn off the TV, the noise might mask something I need to hear.”
“But, how’m I going to fall asleep?”
“Read a book, count sheep, no TV, no radio.”
The TV turned off and she could hear him rummaging around. The sound of his body climbing back into bed was followed by the flipping of pages and muttering. It would seem he’d chosen reading a book. Colt returned the transmitter to her belt and continued examining the living room. If there was a secret passageway, she placed it between this room and the study. She surveyed the fixtures. None appeared to be original to the room. At the rear of the room, two thin lines of dust at the baseboard of the inset bookcase. Typical, but where’s the release catch? Extracting a small aerosol bottle from a pouch on her boot, she sprayed the woodwork of the cabinet. The oily residue of fingerprints concentrated in one area led her to closer inspection and, when she pushed with her own thumb in the same spot, the bookcase slid forward noiselessly to reveal the passageway between the walls that she had suspected.
Extracting a small flashlight, she entered the darkness, following a collection of footprints left in the dust. Her path took her to the edge of a staircase leading both down into the darkness and up toward the second floor. She had an idea where the passage up came out, Courtwright’s bedroom, but what of the one going down?
Suddenly, in her ear, she heard the sound of Courtwright stirring. “Wha..? You! How’d you get in here? Wait! Colt! Colt, where are you!?! No! Nmph!” The sound of Courtwright’s muffled voice echoed in the Weapons Mistress’s ear as she bounded up the steps of the interior staircase. Then, two muffled shots and silence!
Colt had reached the top of the stairs and turned a corner in the passageway when she saw that the secret entrance to Courtwright’s room was ajar. Her Clippers already in her hands, she proceeded cautiously. Whoever had been in Courtwright’s room hadn’t exited this way and she had to assume was still in there. Sliding out of the passage into the moonlit room, she found no one. Moving quietly and ever alert, she checked the bedroom door and found it locked. A quick glance under the bed and up at the ceiling revealed nothing. The closet was empty, as was the bathroom, and the window latched shut. Could there be another exit to a different passageway?
She approached Courtwright’s bed. His body, sprawled out beneath the covers, was motionless. A bullet-riddled pillow covered his face. “Damn!” A note pinned to the other side of the pillow caught her attention. Leaning over, so as not to disturb the scene, she grasped the corner of the message and peered at it in the low light.
“Good night, Colt?” A flash of light from below blinded her as smoke billowed up into her mouth and nostrils! Coughing from the noxious fumes, she stepped back, her mind reeling! In a daze she stumbled back toward the bed, grabbing the now destroyed pillow and tossing it aside to reveal the shattered head of a mannequin.
She was vaguely aware that the lights had come on in the room as she fell forward, queasy, her head swimming in an ocean of swirling colors. Her body slumped upon the bed, but rubbery legs were unable to support her and she slid down until her momentum left her toppling backwards onto the floor. Lashes fluttered over glazed eyes before heavy lids shut and she sank into unconsciousness.
Part 2
“Unhh…”
Conscious thoughts drifted into her dream and the Weapons Mistress realized she was awakening. Her body ached. The sensation of liquid on her lips suggested blood. Odd, she didn’t remember taking a beating.
“Uhh…”
She forced her eyes open for the briefest of moments before the first glare of light slammed them shut again. Trying again, she managed a view through fluttering eyelashes but the gauzy haze revealed nothing. Blinking her eyelids open, she gave her pupils some time to adjust. Through still cloudy vision she realized somebody was right in her face, peering at her.
“Ohh…”
Shutting her eyes briefly, she tried to clear her head. It seemed even her teeth hurt. Determined, she opened her eyes again to return the stare of…
“Mmm…”
Her own reflection. As her vision, and her wits, returned, it occurred to her that she was laying face down. The bloody lip she had imagined, only drool escaping from the side of her mouth. She rolled herself over on to her back and wiped her mouth dry with her forearm. The stiffness in her arms and legs, and the crick in the back of her neck, signaled she had been motionless in her previous position for some time. Colt felt bruising on her chin and cheek. Whoever had left her in here hadn’t been worried about her hurting herself as she hit the floor. She shivered. The room was inordinately cold. She looked up at the ceiling a good 30 feet away. Most likely plexiglass, the light bathing the room originating on the other side. The walls, stainless steel.
“Urrr…”
Colt sits and contemplates her situation!Her bearings established, she moved herself into a sitting position. Her costume had been removed. That would at least partially explain why she felt she was freezing. She had been left in a bra and panties. She didn’t need to check to know that her earrings had been removed, as well. Colt noted ruefully that even her fingernails had been trimmed.
She contemplated the undergarments that clearly were not the ones she had previously been wearing. The black lace bra was at least two sizes to small and so constricting that she wondered if it might be affecting her circulation. The matching thong panties fit only slightly better. Her captor had been thorough. He had taken no chance that she had secreted a weapon in any article of her clothing. Indeed, it was a smart move on his part, she had used the underwire in her bra to escape predicaments before. Still, why not leave her naked?
“Hmmm…”
Most likely, there was some kind of tracking device attached to the clothing. She made a mental note to ditch the provided outfit when she came up with a plan for escape. In the meantime, what little coverage it provided was welcome.
Standing, she looked around the room. It was approximately 8 feet by 8 feet, with no windows. The floor and walls were stainless steel as she had initially surmised. The door was recessed perfectly and, from a distance, its’ location was barely noticeable.
Knitting her brow, she considered the events that had brought her to this room. Clearly, the plot against Courtwright had been a ruse to lure her into a trap. Why her? Perhaps more importantly, why him? Was he the mastermind or acting as a pawn for someone else? Her last memory before awaking was looking up through glazed eyes at his face. If he was behind this, he obviously had some plan for her or he wouldn’t have kept her alive when he had her completely at his mercy. She’d find out soon enough what he had in mind. Meanwhile, she moved about the room trying to generate some body heat to ward off the cold.
***
“Ahh, our Weapons Mistress is awake, is she?”
Courtwright strode into the observation room where Mueller observed the closed-circuit feed from the camera hidden in the lights above Colt’s cell.
“Yes, sir. She’s up and about.”
“Taking her capture well?”
“Very calm.”
“Good. You’ve got the air conditioning cranked up, right?”
“Per instruction. She’s been moving around, trying to warm herself up. When I zoom in, you can see the goosebumps, though.”
“Now, Bill, why would you need to zoom in?” Courtwright laughed and slapped his security chief on the shoulder. “I think it’s time to make it a little colder in there. Crank up the air conditioning. Maybe you won’t need to zoom in to see the goosebumps.”
“Yes, sir. Tell me something…”
“You want to know why she’s not nekkid, Bill?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So does she. One more thing for her to think about. Don’t forget to lower the temperature in there. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
***
A shivering Valencia Kirk stopped to assess her condition. By her count, based upon the steady walking pace she had maintained and the number of steps she had taken, approximately 2 hours had passed. Despite her efforts, she knew her body temperature had fallen. The blue lips and pallid skin of the reflection on the wall told her she was slowly freezing. If she didn’t produce more body heat, it wouldn’t be long before she sank into unconsciousness. The drawback was that to produce more kinetic energy she had to exert more effort. She could only keep up a high enough level for so long and then, tired and sweaty, the cold would do her in twice as fast. Still, better to try something than to slide slowly into oblivion.
Continuing to keep track of her steps, she picked up the pace. Jogging in a circle around the room, she felt some warmth return to her limbs. To take her mind off the cold, she let her mind wander to her encounters with James Courtwright as she tried to deduce the motivation for imprisoning her.
***
Mueller glanced up at the clock. 6 hours since she had first awakened. He’d passed up every opportunity to go on break. The sight of the diminutive hardbody bouncing around the room as her ill-fitting ensemble struggled to contain her flesh had been exhilarating! Oddly, that sensation paled in comparison to the more fascinating recent hours as he had watched her pace slow.
A weary and cold Colt struggles for survival!The bounce in her step had gone and more leaden legs trudged forward. Occasional bursts of energy quickly subsided and the glistening sweat on her skin had gradually taken on the look of frost. Every step seemed more difficult than the last as her strength inexorably diminished, and now, her legs failing her, she stumbled against the wall, leaning heavily against the steel, unable to stand on wobbly legs without assistance. Her fingers struggled to unsecure the bra constricting her heaving chest but, to no avail, as weariness and extreme cold hampered her dexterity. Finally, she slid down the wall to the floor, balling up to try and contain some warmth.
Mueller pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Courtwright, the cold’s got her.”
After a long pause, the panel squawked back, “About time. Turn off the air conditioning and bring the heating coils online.”
Mueller did as instructed and signaled his man at the door to take over for him while he took a break. He wondered if James Courtwright had considered the prospect that the heroine might strip for them of her own volition when the decision was made to dress her in clothing that allowed her to retain the barest measure of her dignity. If so, the deviousness was impressive.
***
The cold chills that wracked Valencia Kirk’s body had imperceptibly been diminishing for the better part of an hour when she sensed warmth replacing the chill in her bones. So, the plan wasn’t for her to freeze to death, at least not yet. As her body temperature slowly returned to normal, she took advantage of the opportunity to relax. Stretching out on the floor, she closed her eyes and reflected on the purpose behind her torture. She had been taken to the brink of death and then spared. Why? Was it as simple as a sadistic impulse to keep her alive so that she could act as a further victim, or was there more to it? Perhaps, a test? Of stamina? Or will?
One thing was for certain, she wasn’t done. Heat would be the next hurdle. She could feel the steel below her back getting hotter. Then, the room went completely dark and she heard a sound from somewhere overhead before the metallic ringing of an object hitting the floor reverberated around the room. When the lights returned seconds later, she raised herself up onto her haunches and looked to see what had joined her in her cell. A bar of chocolate? She walked over and picked it up.
“Hmmm.”
An energy bar. Unwrapped. Drugged? She tossed it in the corner. No need to find out. Any benefit it could give would be temporary and was outweighed by the risk. Besides, it had already provided her with confirmation of what had previously only been speculation. There was access to the room through the ceiling and, most likely, cameras up above recording her every move. Of course, that knowledge and a nickel wouldn’t buy her a dime candy.
The room had become uncomfortably warm as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Temperature extremes. She’d been right. It seemed part of the agenda was to wear her down physically and mentally. She decided the plan wasn’t for her to die in this room and that whatever happened here was leading up to something else. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and watched the chocolate covering of the energy bar melt onto the floor.
***
Colt gets the hotfoot!Ames watched as beads of perspiration falling from the Weapons Mistress’s body turned to steam upon hitting the steel floor of her cell. That was more like it! The hotfoot provided by raising the temperature had lifted her from the doldrums of heat exhaustion and sent her knees thrusting into the air as she tried to avoid burning the soles of her feet. As expected, Ames was enjoying the show, salivating over the jiggling flesh on the monitor, when Mueller returned.
“Ron, what the hell?”
“She needed a little wake-up, boss!”
“Dammit! Courtwright wants her softened up, not cooked! Knock it off!”
“Okay. Okay. Here, I’m turning the setting back to where it was before. Are you happy now? Jeez, I just wanted to have a little fun!”
“You better hope that this little stunt of yours doesn’t get back to Courtwright. He’ll have your head. Get outta here, you’re back on perimeter duty.”
“Aww, come on, Bill! She’s not hurt. Look! She’s fine!”
“Yeah, no thanks to you. I hope the show was worth it, Ron, because I’m not letting you behind these controls again.”
“Damn, Bill,” Ames got up to leave the control room. “Well,” he turned and winked at his boss, “It was worth it.”
Mueller watched him go and, as the door shut, he chuckled to himself. “I’ll bet it was.”
***
An exhausted Valencia Kirk, breathing heavily, staggered across the floor. Every breath caused her to wince from the pain in her lungs. The metal had cooled enough that she was in no danger of burning her feet but the temperature in the room still had the feel of a sauna. Weary, she dropped to her knees and tried to compose herself. When the floor had heated to burning temperatures, she’d wondered if she’d been wrong about the plan not being for her to die in this room. Now, as the heat had again become more bearable before she suffered any serious injury, she was more convinced than ever that she had been right.
Lifting her head, she looked up at the lights and smiled.
“I’m still here.”
Part 3
The lights had gone out but the stifling heat remained and there was a heavy dampness in the air that could not be accounted for solely by the steam rising from her own sweat. The humidity in the room filled her lungs and made it difficult for her to breathe. An additional torment? The scent, not eucalyptus, but familiar. Of course! Val dropped to the floor and kept her breathing shallow. Gas!
Despite her quick reaction, she was already feeling light-headed. Indeed, she realized that there was little she could do to prevent herself from feeling whatever effect was intended. Once the room was saturated, staying low would be little help as the fumes would gradually sink all the way to the floor. She felt her mind tiring and her breathing grew heavy. With a start she realized the lights had come back on but the room was engulfed in fog. Had she heard a door opening? Two sets of hands grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back as a knee pressed between her shoulder blades kept her stationary on the floor. Once her wrists had been safely shackled together, she was roughly hoisted to her feet to be escorted from the room. In truth, despite her efforts to walk on her own might, her rubbery legs left her handlers to do most of the work as she was unceremoniously dragged into a hallway.
Free from the noxious air, her mind began to clear and she recognized Jones and Wilson as they took off their gas masks. She tried to rise to her feet but stumbling legs still refused to follow her mental command and she again found herself half-dragged, half-carried by the pair through a haze of corridors until, with a suddenness, she was on the grounds of the estate squinting against the late afternoon sunshine.
The fresh air and natural light aided her in shaking off the effects of the sleeping gas and, by the time the trio reached their evident destination, Val was again alert and fit. Courtwright stood with the rest of his bodyguards before her.
“Hey, there, Colt, I hope you’ve been enjoying the accommodations!” Courtwright had a wide grin on his face from the knowing sarcasm, cocksure that he was in control.
Val took a long look at her “host.” He was decked out like some gunfighter in a spaghetti western with a longcoat, double-gunbelts, and two six-shooters. She pursed her lips as if giving the question consideration. “Not particularly.”
“Well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Courtwright retained the grin, but his annoyance at the nature of her reaction was visible in his eyes. He had expected false bravado from a proud heroine. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here?”
“Actually, I’m more interested in determining how I’m going to leave.”
There was a little bit more of the attitude he expected, although still not what he had imagined. Courtwright had to admit she was a cool one. “Oh, it all ties in. You may recall, when you first arrived, noticing my interest in firearms. At the time, modesty precluded me from admitting that my interest runs quite deep. In fact, more than an interest, it’s a passion!”
With lightning speed, Courtwright drew a sidearm and a bullet crashed through a wooden stake planted in the ground 25 feet away as the gun’s report and the pistol sliding back into its holster happened almost simultaneously. “A passion that led to my taking up shooting at a tender age.” He whirled and fired his other weapon, obliterating a different stake 30 feet away. As he casually slid the .45 back into its holster, it was difficult to recall the gun having been drawn.
“As a young buck, I showed some promise.” Both guns blazed as stakes in two separate directions 35 feet away shattered and with a twirling flourish each pistol was re-holstered. “Since then, it’s been practice, practice, practice!” Before she could blink, Val was staring down the barrel of an old Smith and Wesson.
Courtwright winked, and put the gun away. “To make a long story short, I’ve developed a reputation in some circles as the fastest gun alive. I’ve met some others who’ve made the same claim. We meet at privately sponsored contests, here and there, around the world. So far, I’m the only one who can still claim to be the fastest. Or alive, for that matter.”
“Yeah, you sure killed those wooden stakes dead.” Val nodded appreciatively as if she was serious.
Courtwright’s eyes darkened. “Make no mistake, the mortality of the target is of no concern to me. Indeed, that’s why I was approached about you. You’ve made some enemies and it seems that at least some of your enemies are the kind of people who have knowledge of my extracurricular activity.”
Placid blue eyes returned his gaze. As Courtwright’s pause failed to elicit a response, he continued, “Not interested in who? Well, probably best, as I’m not at liberty to divulge that information just yet. Anyway, I was approached by these as yet unnamed individuals and asked if I’d have any interest in engaging you in a gunfight. Colt? The Weapons Mistress? says I! She’s got a reputation as a crack shot. Some might even say she’s the fastest gun alive! Of course, I’d be interested in a duel. If the price is right. But, how? She’d never agree to such a thing!”
Val let him talk. Not only was information valuable, but the insights into his character might be exploited. It was evident that he enjoyed being in control of the situation. He wanted her to know how good he was and to remind her that he had power. Partly, she surmised, out of ego, but buried deep she sensed that, like many arrogant people, he had self-doubt.
“Funny thing is, Colt, the price was right. So right that it had to happen whether you would agree or not. I suppose your enemies knew that would be the case when they approached me. You see, any price would have been right if it was enough to make it happen. Once they put the thought in my head, I had to know how it would turn out. They paid me handsomely and left the arrangements to me and you walked into my trap like a doe to a brook.
“Still, despite my disappointment at how little opposition you’ve been so far, I’d like to be as fair as possible. That’s why I’ve arranged for this little demonstration. So, you can see exactly what you’re going to be facing.”
Courtwright shed his long coat and turned. A set of sequenced lights, like those found at the start of a drag race, was set up 50 feet away. The two vertical columns of lights, going from red at the top, through 4 rows of amber, to green at the bottom, were unlit. “Ames, show Colt here how fast the sequence goes from red to green.”
Ames pressed a button on a remote and the lights cycled in less than a second. Giving her a toothy smile, Ames pressed the button again and again green appeared a split second after red.
“Thanks, Ron. Whenever you’re ready.” Courtwright stood feet shoulder width apart, hands at the ready near the butt of his guns.
Val saw the red light and then the green, without a hint of amber crossing her vision, as blazing pistols and shattering glass echoed in her ears.
Courtwright slipped the empty cartridge out of both revolvers and re-loaded. “Of course, you could do that, right?”
“Don’t know. I’d be happy to try.” Val smiled.
“Yeah, not going to happen today.” Firing behind his back, Courtwright blasted the head off a mannequin set up 40 feet away. “Not going to happen tomorrow, either.” Another report from his weapon and a bullet burned through twine holding up a wooden target. A third found the bullseye before the target hit the ground.
“Fast and accurate. That’s some of the best shooting I’ve ever seen.” Val’s comment elicited the reaction she expected. He wanted her to show fear, through word or gesture, to assure himself that he was in control. Her matter of fact attitude worried him. She could sense that Courtwright was becoming more and more irritated that she wasn’t seemingly impressed enough with his ability or the precariousness of her situation. He had already spent so much time trying to make sure that she wasn’t physically or mentally at the top of her game when he faced her that he had already revealed his own doubts as to whether he was able to best her if she was at full strength. Sowing new seeds of doubt in his mind could only work to her advantage.
“You stupid fool! I’m not looking for your unbiased opinion. I’m going to kill you tomorrow! Gun you down like a dog! Don’t you realize that?!?” Courtwright’s face began to turn red. “Come on, let’s show her where she’s going to die.”
The group marched toward the side of the estate overlooking the ocean. Val strolled confidently as she was led first down one side of a divided stone staircase and then down the main staircase to a field bordered on the other end by the cliff overlooking the beach below. She kept her posture straight and a look of bemusement on her face as she knew that everyone was watching her. Some, like Courtwright, were looking for signs of weakness or fear. Others were hoping to gain some insight into whether she would survive their employer’s murderous intentions, at least long enough to be done in by someone else among the group. Still others simply took pleasure in watching her body move in the sheer fabric of the tight bra and panties in which she remained clad.
With the setting sun behind them, Courtwright said, “Tomorrow, at noon, you’ll be brought here to face me in mortal combat.” Waving a hand toward the ocean, he continued, “You’ll stand over there and I’ll descend down this staircase to meet you on the field of battle. I’ve made a pact with your acquaintances to record the event for posterity so that they may view your demise despite being unable to attend out of what I believe to be an overabundance of caution. I’m sure the video will prove to be an international sensation in underworld circles.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Oh, please!”
Courtwright shot her a glance with piercing eyes before allowing a quirky smile to play across his lips. “Come on, I’m the villain of the piece. A little melodrama is to be expected isn’t it?”
His bodyguards chuckled at the change of pace. Wilson chided her, “Come on sweet cheeks, where’s your sense of humor?” The follow-up pinch of her butt prompted such a startled reaction in Val that the chuckles turned to guffaws.
Val eyed Wilson up and down. “I’ll remember that.”
De Souza shook her head sadly. “Not for long, honey.”
“Okay, okay, we’re done here.” Mueller motioned for Wilson and Jones to escort Colt back to the mansion.
As the big man stepped toward her side, Val waited until his lead foot was about to plant and then set herself up for a kick that drove her heel down into the side of his knee just as he shifted his weight forward onto that leg. The effect was instantaneous as Wilson crumpled to the ground, howling, and clutching his knee.
“You %!#%*! Oh, spit! This freakin’ hurts! Ohhh! I’ll kill you!” Wilson reached for the gun in his shoulder holster only to come up short as he saw the barrel of Courtwright’s revolver inches away from his forehead.
“Now, Phil, that’s my job. I’d hate to lose you.” Courtwright stared the big man down. With little other choice, Wilson gritted his teeth and decided to examine his injury rather than follow through with his impulse.
Val looked at De Souza. “I guess I had long enough.”
Standing at Colt’s shoulder, Jones said, “Just barely,” even as she jammed a hypodermic needle into Colt’s glute.
Colt winced. She hadn’t seen that coming. She felt her body tense up. Soon she was unable to move her limbs as the toxin affected her nervous system. In seconds, she was stiff as a board and about to fall over when Jones caught her under her arms.
Courtwright walked over to the helpless heroine. “You’re supposed to be good. Look at you. Pathetic! I was going to make it fairly quick tomorrow, give you an honorable death, but you don’t deserve it! Maybe I should gut-shoot you and let you bleed out. That would be appropriate ‘cause you’re gutless! You were easy to capture, you’re ineffectual at escape. Look at you, you can’t even stand up to me. Get her out of here!”
Mueller ordered Ames to help Jones carry Colt’s rigid body back to her cell. The involuntary convulsions wracking the body of the Weapons Mistress made the task more difficult but soon she was again face down on the stainless steel floor of her home for the last day. Ames removed the shackles binding her wrists together. “Don’t worry, Sugar, the poison wears off in about an hour. You’ll be up jogging around again in no time. Let me just say, it’s been a pleasure getting to see you in person. I’m a big fan. It’s a shame Courtwright’s gonna kill you tomorrow.”
Val lay motionless on the floor. She knew that the toxin wasn’t responsible for the tightness she was feeling in her chest. Despite Courtwright’s own self-doubt, no amount of mind games would change the fact that he was faster than her. Much faster, even before his ploys to wear her down. After sleep deprivation, temperature extremes, poison, and sleeping gas, there was no chance that she could beat him on the draw. When noon rolled around, she was going to die. The tightness she was feeling in her chest was fear!
Part 4
The cycle had again turned cold, but Valencia Kirk paid no attention. With knowledge of her abductor’s plan, came the understanding that Courtwright would make certain that she survived any of his attempts to wear her down. He wanted her uncomfortable, depleted, ill, but not dead. At least, not yet. Even as he added a mist of water to increase the chill, she sat relaxed in a meditative state, re-playing his shooting exhibition in her mind. Many times in the past hours, she’d realized her heart was racing and she’d had to force herself to calm down. She understood and accepted that she was afraid, but she couldn’t allow her anxiety and desperation to overcome her instinct for survival. Val was certain that the events of the last 2 days had revealed a way to escape her predicament. All she had to do was visualize it.
Of course, even if she figured out how to best Courtwright, there would still be Mueller and his associates to tackle. They were all armed professionals who were unlikely to embrace the idea of going to jail. Luckily, Wilson had provided her with an opportunity to reduce the odds against her without his injury appearing to have been done for that purpose. Finally, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep. She needed to be as rested as possible come morning.
Val awoke to find herself being carried down a hallway by De Souza and Jones. Her wrists were again cuffed behind her back. They entered a locker room and Val spied her costume, neatly folded, on a long table. De Souza saw that their burden was alert.
“Candy, she’s awake.”
Jones nodded in understanding and allowed Colt’s legs to drop to the floor. The Weapons Mistress unsteadily wavered on still rubbery limbs. De Souza unhooked Colt’s bra in the back and easily tore the sheer fabric straps around her shoulders, allowing the garment to drop to the floor. Then, she grabbed the lace at each of Colt’s hips and ripped the panties away from the heroine’s body. The Weapons Mistress raised an eyebrow and De Souza smirked before pushing Colt toward another door.
“Time to get you cleaned up for your funeral!”
The feel of warm water splashing against Val’s skin soothed bones and muscles sore from over 30 hours of combined confinement. De Souza enthusiastically applied fragrant soap to Colt’s body while Jones kneaded shampoo through the trademark long red hair of the Weapons Mistress. Val enjoyed the massaging effect of their fingers pressing into her flesh. By the time the last of the sweat and grime had been washed from her body, she felt relaxed and invigorated.
As Jones turned off the shower, De Souza squeezed the excess water from Colt’s hair. With stunning quickness, Val slammed the back of her skull into De Souza’s forehead, sending the wiry blonde reeling. Before Jones could react, Colt leaped into the air and caught her with a straight kick to the chest that slammed her into the wall.
Val made a break for the door and her gear, but as she crashed into the adjoining room she tripped over an extended leg and skidded futilely across the floor. A knee between her shoulder blades stopped her floundering attempts to regain her footing.
“Grab her legs.”
Mueller and Ames hoisted the Weapons Mistress into the air and dropped her down hard on the table as she squirmed unsuccessfully in an attempt to break free of their grips.
“Now that wasn’t very nice of you! The ladies were just following Mr. Courtwright’s orders to have you looking fit and healthy for the showdown.”
Jones burst through the door from the shower room. “Aaargh! I swear, I’m going to lay a whippin’ on that…”
“Forget it, Candice! Everything’s under control. How’s De Souza?”
“She’s out cold, Bill! Probably got a concussion! As far as I’m concerned, we should just do her now. She’s dangerous! We’re takin’ a big chance here!”
“Yeah, maybe, but you know as well as I do that Courtwright’s a helluva lot more dangerous. Look, Patty’ll be fine. She’s tough. Go get some smellin’ salts and wake her ass up, that’s all.”
Mueller pressed down hard on the back of Colt’s neck and grabbed a towel from the table with his free hand while Ames maintained an iron grip on her ankles. He chuckled as he began to dry off her back.
“I’ll tell you what, Colt. It’s a good thing you only have another hour to live or that girl would kill you!”
Once he had finished toweling off her rear, Mueller and Ames flipped the Weapons Mistress over. Pressing his forearm against her throat, Mueller smiled as Colt tried in vain to draw air into her lungs while he worked the cotton fabric against her chest and abdomen. Her body jerked violently as she slowly asphyxiated, but Mueller abruptly removed the pressure against her throat and shifted it to her chest as he went to work drying off her legs. Finally, he dried her hair as best as he could and wiped off her face while Jones returned and went into the shower room to revive De Souza.
“There you go, almost done.” Mueller tossed her costume pants down towards her legs. “Now, Ron here is going to help you put your clothes on.” He had gone over her garments with a fine-tooth comb and was fairly certain that he’d removed all her hidden gadgets. Still, just in case, he had taken the precaution of putting all of her clothes in the microwave for 30 seconds, long enough to disable any electronic signal device he may have missed. “The boss wants you in costume when he guns you down and then we’ll do the big reveal at the end so that his employers can confirm your identity.”
Colt noticed that the pile of clothes didn’t include her underwear. Probably not integral to Courtwright’s plan and, therefore, subject to scavenging by his vultures as souvenirs. She suspected her earrings had likely been taken as trophies by Courtwright himself.
Mueller covered Colt’s face with the towel and pulled it down tight around her head, once again limiting her ability to breathe. “The longer it takes Ron here to get your pants on, the worse off you’re going to be when you face Courtwright, so I suggest you don’t struggle.”
Ames released one of her ankles and slid a legging over her foot as the Weapons Mistress began to kick violently. “Oh, good, it looks like this is going to take awhile. I was going to go slow and enjoy myself, anyway.”
As Colt wriggled in her attempts to get free of Mueller’s restraint, Ames carefully worked her pants up onto her legs, avoiding her kicks as she blindly lashed out at him. Once he had reached the top of her thighs, he paused and drank in the scene before yanking the elastic fabric up over her hips. Then, the two men rolled the helpless heroine onto her stomach and Mueller extracted a key from his shirt pocket and unlocked her handcuffs. The weight of the two men forcing her body against the table kept her from being able to wiggle free and they slid her arms through the sleeves of her jacket before her wrists were re-handcuffed. Finally, Ames grabbed each foot in turn and put on her socks and boots before she was pulled off of the table and onto her feet.
Mueller moved in front of the Weapons Mistress, stepping squarely on her toes, while Ames held her from behind. Colt stared at him defiantly, her chest heaving from the exertion of the last few minutes. Mueller pulled the jacket up over her shoulders and buttoned it closed in the front, his eyes never leaving her chest. Ames yanked her hair back into a ponytail and placed her mask onto her head, tying it tight in the back. Then, with a patronizing tap, her hat was placed on her head.
The pair was finished dressing her when Jones and De Souza finally emerged from the shower room. De Souza had a glazed look in her eyes but was walking and seemed to know where she was and what had happened to her. The two women exchanged their wet clothes for dry garments and assisted Ames in holding Colt while Mueller walked over to a cabinet at the far end of the room and removed Colt’s gunbelt from within. He grinned in triumph as he saw the covetous look in the eyes of the Weapons Mistress and wrapped the belt around his own waist.
“Barely fits! I guess I’ll have to have it lengthened.” Mueller thrilled at the look of dejection on Colt’s face. “Things not exactly working out the way you want, huh? I guess maybe you’re not the smartest person in the room, after all.”
Colt’s eyes narrowed. “Who is? Ames?”
“Hunh!” Mueller checked his watch. “Okay, folks, time to head out.”
With De Souza leading, Jones and Ames holding Colt’s arms, and Mueller bringing up the rear, the group moved through the maze of passageways and staircases until they exited the mansion. The ocean water glistened as they walked across the grounds until Colt stood with her back at the fence guarding the cliff. Before her, in the distance, were the steps that she had walked down yesterday. Wilson sat at a table off to the left, elevating his injured leg on a folding chair and talking on a cellphone. On the right, at the middle of the field, was a bank of electronic equipment. Colt noticed several stationary video cameras mounted around the field. Apparently, Courtwright wanted every angle covered. Ames and Jones walked toward the video console and Jones began testing to make sure everything was ready to record while Ames retrieved a hand-held video camera and took up a position just off toward Colt’s right. De Souza moved off to her left and toward Wilson, while Mueller remained by her side.
“There’s no place to run, Colt. So don’t even think about it.” Mueller pulled a vintage Colt .45 out of his shoulder holster and popped out the empty cylinder. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I promise it shoots straight. If you beat him on the draw, the gun won’t fail you. You deserve that much of a chance.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Mueller placed a single bullet into the cylinder and slid the apparatus back into the revolver making sure that the firing pin would strike the loaded chamber on the next pull. “If you miss, it’ll already be too late.”
“Sure.”
Drawing her waistband away from her skin, Mueller nestled the gun against her belly. “You’re not used to pulling from an open holster anyway.”
“This way’s just as fast.”
Mueller glanced at the Weapons Mistress, her breasts moving up and down with each heavy breath. Removing the handcuff key from his pocket, he moved behind her and put his Glock to her head. “I’m going to unshackle one of your wrists. Put your hands in front of you and cuff your wrists together again or I’ve been authorized by Mr. Courtwright to blow your head off.”
Colt paused and then slowly did as she was told. When the handcuffs clicked back into place, Mueller exhaled, put his gun away, and moved off to her side. “It’s almost over, just a little longer.”
As noon approached, all eyes turned towards the top of the stairs as Courtwright appeared. Dressed in his finest gunslinging garb, he looked like an outlaw in an old western movie. However, the quick-draw guns and gun-belt he sported were decidedly modern. Courtwright began to descend the stairs with a deliberate pace and Mueller knew from his employer’s walk that the tiny heroine would bleed out in the most slow and painful way that Courtwright could engineer. He almost felt sorry for her. She didn’t really deserve to die that way.
“Mueller, I’m sorry but I don’t think I want to die today.”
Mueller felt the bullet rip through the right side of his abdomen before the sound of the shot echoed in his ears. Dropping the gun in her hand, Colt reached out and unlatched her belt from his waist, pulling it off of him as he fell backward. She flung the gunbelt to the ground before her and knelt down as a bullet whizzed by her head.
Courtwright had watched as the Weapons Mistress twisted her body in Mueller’s direction and, while he hadn’t heard the shot, he knew immediately that she was trying to rob him of his moment of glory. Leaping down the steps in twos and threes, he had drawn his guns and was firing shots on the run even as he tried to decrease the distance to his target.
Colt efficiently and methodically pulled her Clipper from it’s holster, ignoring the bullets pounding into the dirt around her. Grabbing a special bullet from a pouch, she inserted it into the gun’s chamber and sighted Courtwright from a kneeling position. He was still about 75 feet away but he was bringing himself under control to take more careful aim as he continued to volley shots with both guns. She felt the sting of a bullet grazing her shoulder just before she fired. Another bullet whizzed past her ear and a final one sliced through her shirt sleeve before she saw his body contort and he fell forward like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Quickly popping a cartridge into the Clipper, Colt fired a knockout bomb toward Candice Jones and the video console. In succession, she emptied the cartridge at Wilson, De Souza, and Ames. The group of bodyguards had been so sure of the outcome that only Jones had reacted quickly enough to get off a shot when things went screwy. Colt’s hat fluttered to the ground pierced by Jones’ bullet.
As the smoke cleared, all was quiet. Colt thanked the decision of her overconfident captors to give the able-bodied Jones and Ames video duties instead of having the already hampered Wilson and De Souza handling the chores. The extra distraction, coupled with the disbelieving surprise of all, probably accounted for the bare margin by which she had escaped mortal injury.
“I can’t believe you shot me! You don’t believe in using deadly force!”
Colt looked over at the fallen Mueller. “I believe in it as a last resort. You should have left me a choice.”
Mueller struggled to sit up, holding his wound as blood poured over his fingers. Disbelieving, he looked at Colt wordlessly.
Colt surveyed the motionless bodies littering the field. “Just apply direct pressure and I’ll get you an ambulance.” Turning back toward Mueller, she saw him reaching for his Glock. Swinging her gunbelt around, she knocked the weapon out of his hands before he could pull the trigger. “That was stupid! Take a look around; you kill me, who’s going to keep you from bleeding to death?”
“I ain’t going to jail. Rather die.”
Colt stood before him. “Too bad.”
A vicious kick to the jaw sent Mueller into dreamland like his comrades. A conscious enemy to keep an eye on was a problem she didn’t need right now. Colt reached into his pocket and pulled out the handcuff key. Once her hands were free, she put on her gunbelt and retrieved her hat. Mueller was searched for more weapons and those that were found were confiscated. She then cautiously proceeded to Ames, Jones, De Souza, and Wilson, collecting a cache of firearms and knives.
Finally, she approached Courtwright with care. She was definitely in his range now and, while both his guns had slipped from his grasp when he fell, she didn’t want to learn that he had been playing ‘possum. Reaching him, she kicked both guns away and rolled him over onto his back. His eyes were wide open in shock and drool was coming from his mouth. She pulled the dart out of his chest. “The same nerve toxin you used on me yesterday after that demonstration you gave. I notice you didn’t give me any exhibition of your ability to shoot targets from a great distance. I wonder why you left that out?”
Colt stripped off his clothes, leaving him in his underwear. “Just checking you for other weapons. You can’t be too careful, y’know.” She looked around the field and chuckled at the video cameras. “Not exactly the scene you were hoping to record, is it? I imagine that you’re going to have some people very upset with you. Prison walls probably won’t be able to keep you safe. Of course, that’s not my problem.”
Walking away from the immobilized Courtwright, the Weapons Mistress slipped the cell phone out of the unconscious Wilson’s jacket and pressed 3 digits. Her six tormenters were all out of commission. Each, in their own way, had tried to humiliate her and gratify themselves, but she had the last word. “Hello, there’s been a kidnaping and attempted murder at the Courtwright estate. One of the perpetrators has been shot and is seriously wounded. Send the police and an ambulance!”
The End
Part I
“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, BATTLEZONE!” yelled out Ms. Victory as she soared to the sky to intercept the hi-tech mercenary Battlezone as he rocketed away with a small cache of stolen semi-conductors and computer hardware. Following his jet stream, Ms. Victory quickly narrowed the gap as she prepared to deliver a well-placed punch to knock him back towards the ground below.
“In yer dreams, babe,” muttered Battlezone as he released a salvo of concussion grenades that struck Ms. Victory, exploding on impact as she fell from the sky and landed hard on the ground with her ears still ringing from the blast.
“Buh-bye!” Ms. Victory got up and dusted herself off as fellow FemForce members Stardust, Tara, and Synn arrived.
“You okay?” asked Tara.
“Yes, just got a little sucker-punched by him,” answered Ms. Victory. “He’s not far. We can still catch him.”
“You have a plan, I assume?” said Stardust.
“Always,” said Ms. Victory with a smile. “Stardust, you and I will continue the pursuit to keep him distracted. We’ll get him to circle around so Tara and Synn can close the gap.”
“Sounds good to me,” replied Tara.
“Cool beans,” giggled the bubbly Synn as she hovered alongside Tara as she ran down the street.
Ms. Victory and Stardust took to the sky after Battlezone, who continued to prove to be an easy target to pursue his trailing jet stream.
“Get his attention before he hits the afterburners,” said Ms. Victory.
“I’m on it,” answered Stardust as she released an energy blast that hit Battlezone. Although the blast bounced harmless off his high-powered armor suit, it was enough for him to release his getaway wasn’t going to be easy.
“Goody-goody, two more playmates,” cackled Battlezone as he swung around into the hover position with his jet boots, firing two mini-missiles at Stardust and Ms. Victory. Stardust fired another energy blast of her, intercepting the missile and destroying it instantly.
“GOTCHA!” yelled Ms. Victory as she evaded the mini-missile and caught it mid-flight and threw it back at Battlezone. “RIGHT BACK AT YOU!”
“ARRRRRRGH!!!!” bellowed Battlezone as the mini-missile struck him in the chest, damaging a sizeable chunk of his super armor. Battlezone reduced his speed and descended back towards the ground, where Tara and Synn were getting into position.
Stardust followed up the pursuit with a rapid barrage of energy bolts, striking Battlezone to further deplete his defenses as he finally touched down on the ground, as Tara activated her power and increased her size into a giantess with Synn hovering near her.
“Whoa, where’d you two come from?” said Battlezone to Tara and Synn.
“You’re in no position to ask questions, little man,” replied Tara, now a little over 25 feet tall.
“Yup,” agreed Synn playfully.
“It’s over, Battlezone, surrender,” ordered Ms. Victory as she and Stardust hovered overhead, “This is your last chance.”
“Yours, too,” replied Battlezone as he quickly unhooked what appeared to be a large metallic cylinder attached to the back of his armor and mounted it onto his forearm. “This little spar with you is just the opportunity I was looking for to field my new quantum cannon…goodbye, ladies.”
“SHIELD…FAST!!!” yelled out Ms. Victory as Battlezone opened fire with his quantum cannon, surging a massive blast of energy blast forth that seemed to rip the very fabric of reality. Stardust activated a large energy shield in front of herself and Ms. Victory in the air, while Synn covered herself and Tara with a protective aura as the cannon itself exploded from the energy released, engulfing all of them in a roaring explosion that shattered windows for blocks around the blast radius.
Moments later, Battlezone awoke lying on the ground in only his boxer shorts, as his power armor was blown off his body and was nothing but charred metal scattered about as he slowly emerged unharmed.
“DON’T MOVE!!!!!” yelled four policemen who arrived on the scene and pointed their weapons at Battlezone. Unarmed, powerless, and practically naked, Battlezone raised his hands and surrendered.
“What just happened here?” demanded a police officer as he handcuffed Battlezone.
Battlezone scanned around, seeing no sign of Ms. Victory, Stardust, Tara, or Synn.
“I…I don’t know…” muttered Battlezone in disbelief.
* * *
Elsewhere, Ms. Victory stirred and awoke, finding herself in an urban alleyway along with Tara, who groggily awoke as well.
“Where are we? This doesn’t look like the area we fought Battlezone,” commented Tara.
“I’m not sure,” replied Ms. Victory as they emerged from the alleyway onto a busy city sidewalk where regular people and commuters were passing back and forth. They drew several stares from their striking appearance and flamboyant costumes, occasionally getting a remark here and there.
“The comic convention’s the other way, at the hall near the downtown Civic arena, Miss,” commented one bystander.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” replied Ms. Victory awkwardly.
“We need to get to someplace quiet,” suggested Tara. “I think I see a small park nearby.”
“A few minutes later Ms. Victory and Tara were underneath some trees at a small city park, away from the usual fare of joggers, bike riders, dog walkers, and others enjoying the park.
“This place looks familiar, but it’s not Florida…a city in the northeastern United States maybe?” commented Tara.
“Maybe, but it’s odd on how no one recognized us, though,” replied Ms. Victory. “Most thought we were two ordinary people in costumes.”
“How’d we even get here? We’re hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from where we were,” added Tara.
Without warning they heard an unusual whistling sound coming from the sky that grew louder and louder, until finally its source impacting into a grassy plot in the park that sent people fleeing in panic. As the dirt cloud settled a heavily armored figure emerged from the hole with bronze colored technological armor, with an evil, older looking man’s visage within the helmet.
“It’ll take more than that to stop me, Galaxy Ranger,” boasted the armored man.
“Hold on, I’m just getting warmed up,” replied his opponent as she flew overhead.
Ms. Victory and Tara quickly assessed the situation, as the woman in the air dressed in a blue and white battlesuit engaged in combat against him.
“Perhaps some property damage would be in order,” said the armored man as he released a small salvo of mini-missiles, blowing up a fire hydrant, a small metal playground, and a nearby hotdog stand. Children screamed in terror as they fled the carnage, as the flying woman flew by a group of people and activated a laser shield, absorbing the blast of the last mini-missile.
The woman then deactivated her laser shield and fired a laser blast at the villain, which seemed to have no effect on him.
“Fool!” roared the armored assailant. “You may have gotten a few early shots but I’ve now calibrated my armor to absorb your laser beams. The more you shoot, the stronger I get! Looks like your bosses’re going to need a replacement for this space sector, Galaxy Ranger!”
“It’s not over, Doctor Destructo,” replied the Galaxy Ranger as she powered up another laser blast and shot at the ground underneath his feet, knocking him off balance and onto his back. The Galaxy Ranger grabbed some residual metal from the damaged playground and flew hard onto the prone Doctor Destructo as he recovered his bearing, pinning him down with the shredded metal frame.
Doctor Destructo grinned as he easily shoved the metal off of him and threw the Galaxy Ranger back before springing back onto his feet. Doctor Destructo then fired two more mini-missiles at her, striking her and knocking her onto the ground from the explosions.
“The energy I absorbed from you doubled my speed and tripled my strength,” boasted Doctor Destructo as his armor reconfigured on his right arm, revealing what appeared to be a small blaster cannon, “And charged my power cells to finish you in one final shot.”
Before Doctor Destructo could fire, the remnants of the hot dog stand he destroyed earlier flew in the air and slammed into him. Knocked to the ground, Doctor Destructo cast off the metal and discarded frankfurters to see a woman dressed in star-spangled costume fly into him to deliver a devastating punch straight into his belly. Rivets and circuits popped from the impact, as overloaded systems shorted out to prevent him from mounting an attack.
“Who…who’re you?!” said Doctor Destructo.
“The name’s Ms. Victory, Mister Spam-in-can,” answered Ms. Victory sternly as Tara revived the Galaxy Ranger. “Now let’s peel the tin, shall we?”
Using her super strength, Ms. Victory peeled away the front breastplate of Doctor Destructo’s armor, followed by ripping apart the armor on his shoulders and arms to expose his bare flesh. Upon closer inspection, Ms. Victory noticed that much of the power armor was wired directly into his body, like a life support system.
“Hold on a second, I’ll take it from here, friend,” said the Galaxy Ranger as she approached the prostrate Doctor Destructo and concentrated her laser beam, cutting apart the remainder of his armor suit that concealed other technological weaponry while still keeping his life support systems intact. Police and SWAT soon arrived with an armored prisoner truck, where they collected Doctor Destructo and took him away for arrest processing.
“Whoever you are, thanks,” said the Galaxy Ranger, gratefully as she extended her hand in friendship. “I’m a Galaxy Ranger. You?”
“I’m Ms. Victory,” replied Ms. Victory.
“Tara Fremont,” said Tara. “Pardon my asking, but where are we?”
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, why?” asked the Galaxy Ranger.
“We’re not from around here,” explained Ms. Victory. “We’re based out of Florida. Maybe you’ve heard of us. We’re the Federal Emergency Mission Force; FemForce for short.”
The Galaxy Ranger had a perplexed look as she replied, “Sorry, I can’t say I have. The U.S. federal government doesn’t support superhero groups, but I don’t think you’re lying, either. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something different about you two.”
“Well, we feel kind of out of place, ourselves,” admitted Tara.
“I’ll take you back to my place,” replied the Galaxy Ranger as she took to the sky with Ms. Victory carrying Tara. “It’s not far.”
“Thanks,” replied Ms. Victory as the lingering thought prevailed in her mind, “Where are Stardust and Synn?”
* * *
“What a fun place this is!” commented Synn as she and Stardust awoke in what appeared to be a toy warehouse. “Oh, I would love to buy one of those, three of that, two of those…”
“Synn, aren’t you concerned as to how we arrived here?” asked Stardust as she surveyed around, seeing boxes upon boxes of various toys. “We have no idea how long we’ve been in this place or where Ms. Victory and Tara are. And didn’t it occur as odd to you that we have encountered no one in this packed warehouse? No employees, janitors, or even a security guard?”
“Company holiday?” replied Synn innocently as she picked up a large teddy bear mounted on a display stand and gave it a hug. “This is so adorable!”
“Nap time…” said the teddy bear with sweet sounding voice as it opened its mouth, revealing a small metal tube and shot out a pink gas that Synn inhaled. Seconds later Synn collapsed on the floor fast asleep.
“SYNN!” cried out Stardust as she ran over to help her, when suddenly a small army of toys came to life and began advancing upon her. Stardust immediately fired a stream of energy bolts along a wide area, blowing them apart.
“What manner of place is this?” said Stardust as she destroyed another group of toys.
“CATCH!” called out a voice as a series of green, blue, red, and gray balls hurtled out of the shadows towards Stardust. Stardust immediately responded by shooting them apart as they neared her, blasting the green, blue, and red balls. The gray balls struck Stardust in the chest and exploded into a swirling mass of sticky gray bindings that ensnared her, pinning Stardust’s arms at her sides and legs together as she collapsed onto the floor unable to break free. Despite her paranormal strength and aura of star energy, Stardust was unable to break or burn herself out.
“What…IS…this?” cursed Stardust as she strained against them.
“Curious,” said a voice emerging from the shadows. “I’ve been studying you on the monitors since you appeared and still can’t tell who you are. I’ve never seen either of you before.”
“Who are you?” grunted Stardust.
“You’ll know soon enough,” answered the man as he sprayed a stream of sleeping gas into her face.
* * *
Elsewhere, the Galaxy Ranger had led Ms. Victory and Tara into the secret passageway that teleported them into her home, a medium sized three-bedroom apartment in Shadyside, a suburb of the Pittsburgh metro area. Ms. Victory and Tara were sitting on her living room sofa, as the Galaxy Ranger, now dressed in regular clothes, returned from down the hall with a small basket of clothes in hand.
“Here, you might need these for a while,” commented the Galaxy Ranger as she presented them with some ordinary clothing. “I told my neighbors you’re friends of mine from out of town whose luggage got lost at the airport. They’re about your height, so the clothes’ll fit you better than mine.”
“Thanks, again, Galaxy Ranger,” said Ms. Victory.
“Sorry, call me Oriana. Oriana Hedgeman,” said the Galaxy Ranger. “What’s your real name, if it’s okay for me to ask?”
“Jennifer Wayne Burke,” said Ms. Victory before she skimmed for some items to change into.
“No fancy name for me, what you see is what you get,” teased Tara. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, first door on the left,” said the Galaxy Ranger. “So let me get this straight. You were fighting a villain who used this experimental weapon on you and your teammates, and somehow it caused a chain reaction that catapulted you from Florida to Pennsylvania?”
“Something like that,” replied Ms. Victory. “Once we find Stardust and Synn, we can head back to our headquarters to get to the bottom of everything. Although I’m a little surprised that I’ve never heard of you or that villain you were fighting, Doctor Destructo, was it?”
“Really?” said the Galaxy Ranger, still a bit perplexed about how little either of them knew of each other. “I’ve been the Galaxy Ranger for this sector for about three years now, and Doctor Destructo’s been on a high profile crime spree for almost three weeks until today. It was national news, since he hit Seattle, Chicago, and even New York City before arriving here.”
Meanwhile, Tara had just finished up in the bathroom and was washing her hands, and caught a quick glimpse of a travel magazine near the washbasin. Tara checked the issue date, which read “January 2004” but when she saw the cover photo her eyes lit up in shock. Tara immediately grabbed it and went back into the living room, nearly stark white in complexion.
“Tara, what’s wrong?” asked Ms. Victory.
“Jen, we’re not only in the wrong state, we’re in the wrong world,” said Tara nervously.
“What are you talking about?” replied Ms. Victory with a puzzled look. “What gave you that idea?”
Tara held up the magazine cover to Jen and said, “The Twin Towers are still standing.”
* * *
Synn awoke and found herself in what appeared to be a luxurious hotel room, emerging from a large and soft bed dressed in a nightie and observed the hard oak furniture and paintings decorating the room, along with a large plasma screen television mounted on the wall. The door opened, with a well-dressed man entering and pushing a small cart.
“Room service. Sorry we’re late,” said the man politely.
“Room service? I didn’t order room service. I don’t even remember how I got here,” said Synn.
“Oh, I’m sorry. They didn’t tell you everything, did they?” said the waiter.
“Tell me what?” asked Synn.
“You were in a surfing accident on the beach earlier,” explained the waiter. “The lifeguards rescued you and the paramedics treated you for a head injury. Your friends brought you back here and then ordered room service for you. Hungry?”
The waiter removed the tray covers, revealing a plate of freshly made french toast decorated with strawberries, fresh cantaloupe, bacon, orange juice, and milk. Synn couldn’t remember the last time she ate as her stomach made a loud gurgling sound after smelling the food’s aroma.
“Um…a little,” said Synn, a little embarrassed by her stomach. “Well, I hope you feel better,” said the waiter pleasantly.
“Thank. Um…I…can’t find my purse or wallet to give you a tip…sorry!” apologized Synn.
“Don’t worry, Miss, it’s already been taken care of,” said the waiter as he left the room.
Synn hungrily ate the food, still confused on what was going on, as she still felt strangely disoriented. She remembered fighting Battlezone, then blacking out, and then arriving in a toy warehouse, blacking out again, and now here in a hotel room. Synn then turned on the plasma television, seeing an animated cartoon show of “Wacky Waldo, Master of Science.”
“Oh, I’ve never seen this before,” said Synn as she attentively began watching the show.
* * *
“How’s our guest?” asked a portly man dressed in a business suit, observing Synn through a two-way mirror.
“Who? The space cadet babe with the platinum blonde hair? She bought the story hook, line, and sinker, boss,” said the henchman as he changed out of the waiter outfit.
“Outstanding,” cackled the man as he rubbed his hands near his chest. “I, the Grand Toyman, now have two more action figures in his collection, lovely ones, too, I might add.”
“What about the other one, boss?” said the henchman.
“Take a look for yourself,” commented the Grand Toyman as he gestured to the opposite side, where in the other two-way mirror Stardust was still cocooned in the tight bindings straining to escape in a padded room with various sensors mounted on the walls.
“I’ve never seen her before. But with those looks, she’s an extraterrestrial, that’s for sure,” said the henchman.
“LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!!!!” roared Stardust as she thrashed about the room. “Oh yes, she’s a feisty one, all right,” said the Grand Toyman. “Her power’s off the charts. Look at these readings.”
“Impressive. She looks strong, boss,” added the henchman as he skimmed through the notes.
“Quite. But the binding materials are dissipating the heat energy she’s using to try to escape and are keeping her under wraps,” said the Grand Toyman. “Once I find to way to harness that energy, I’ll be unstoppable.”
* * *
At the same time the Galaxy Ranger was taking Ms. Victory and Tara towards Oakland, a large section of the Pittsburgh metro area. Dressed in civilian attire, the three superheroines arrived at the physics research wing of Wean Hall on the Carnegie Mellon University campus.
“Oriana, what a lovely surprise,” greeted Kyle Lachlan, a physics professor and researcher. “What brings you here in the darkest hole of the CMU campus?”
“Kyle, this is Jen, and this is Tara,” introduced Oriana. “Remember that hypothesis you spent about six months developing in quantum physics about dimensional warping?”
“Yes, what about it?” asked Kyle.
“It’s more like a theory, now,” alluded Oriana as Jen and Tara began to explain in full detail of what they encountered.
* * *
“Okay, kids,” said Wacky Waldo, Wizard of Science, “Now we’re going to talk about turning lead into gold like they tried to do in medieval times. Do you have your science kit?”
“Science kit? Hmmm…okay!” replied Synn as she used her matter manipulation power to conjure up a home science kit that mimicked the one portrayed on the television. “Right here, Wacky Waldo!”
“That’s great!” said Waldo. “Now, let’s add chemical A to chemical B and voila, lead to gold!”
“Hmmm…chemical A plus chemical B…here we go…!” said Synn playfully as used her powers once again, literally turning a piece of lead the size of the tissue box to pure gold.
From the two-way mirror the Grand Toyman nearly wet himself out of excitement.
“Holy-moley!!!!! That ditzy blonde’s got powers beyond belief!!!!” realized the Grand Toyman. “All I got to do is keep her happy with pizza and cartoons and she’s gonna make me rich, rich, rich!!!!!”
* * *
Back at Wean Hall, Professor Kyle Lachlan conducted his preliminary tests on Ms. Victory followed by Tara. As he tested Tara, Ms. Victory spoke to the Galaxy Ranger in private.
“Thanks again for everything, Oriana,” said Ms. Victory. “How’d you get these connections?”
“I work in this area,” replied the Galaxy Ranger. “In my secret identity I’m a graduate student in biology and genetics. How about you?”
“I really don’t have a life outside of this,” conceded Ms. Victory. “It’s a long story. Does Kyle know?”
“About what I really do? Yes, he’s one of only two other regular people who know the truth,” said Oriana. “That’s why I brought you two here.”
“Well, I think I see a pattern,” commented Kyle as he printed out his findings.
“How’s that?” asked Ms. Victory.
“The two of you seem to be containing an excessive amount of some kind of electromagnetic energy I’ve never encountered before,” explained Kyle. “But you each seem to have absorbed it and it somehow brought you here to our dimension.”
“That makes sense,” added Tara. “Stardust activated an energy shield and Synn created a protective aura just as Battlezone fired that weapon; it’s like a chain reaction.”
“So if we siphon the excess energy off, does that mean they get sent back? Like an overcharged electron returning back to its original valence in an atom?’ asked the Galaxy Ranger.
“Possibly, but I’ve no idea how to siphon it off,” admitted Kyle reluctantly. “Or if I could, if it would even work.”
“I’m open for suggestions,” added Tara. “Anyone here know where we can buy some ruby slippers?”
* * *
“RRRRRRAAAAAARRRRGGHHHHH!!!!” roared Stardust as she finally broke free of her bindings after straining against them for hours. Nearly exhausted, Stardust staggered about before regaining her bearings, firing an energy blast to blow apart the door.
“Aw man, the boss ain’t gonna like this!” thought the henchman as he sounded the alarm.
Stardust left the room and went to an adjacent room, where she found Synn playfully watching cartoons on a giant sized television. In the room with her was a large pile of gold bars she converted from lead along with a trashcan filled with a discarded pizza box and empty soda pop cans.
“Oh, hi, Stardust!” said Synn.
“Glad to see you enjoying yourself, Synn,” commented Stardust sternly as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “I’m not even going to ask what happened, but we need to leave now.”
“Okey-dokey,” said Synn as she changed her nightie into her costume.
“You’re not going anywhere,” said a voice from behind.
Stardust immediately turned around and assumed a defensive stance as she replied, “Who said that?”
“I am the Grand Toyman,” said the portly Grand Toyman, dressed in his oversized novelty suit. “The platinum haired ditz’s gonna make me rich, and you’re going to make me powerful.”
“Never,” replied Stardust bitterly.
“Never say never. Just say, not yet,” threatened the Grand Toyman as two oversized robots came crashing through the wall. Stardust immediately fired a volley of energy blasts to cover her and Synn’s withdrawal from the room.
“We need to get out, fast,” said Stardust as she desperately held off the robots.
“Just a sec,” replied Synn as she used her powers to turn the wall into tissue paper. A robot struck Stardust with a well-placed punch, knocking her clear through the transformed wall into the warehouse floor below. Synn flew after her teammate and helped her up, as an army of small, medium, and large toys sprang to life and began advancing on them.
“Uh-oh…” muttered Synn.
* * *
“Any luck?” asked Tara on her wrist communicator to Miss Victory as she trailed behind in the Galaxy Ranger’s car while Ms. Victory and the Galaxy Ranger flew overhead.
“Nothing. I’m not picking up any signals from their devices. They probably shorted out like ours when we jumped dimensions,” said Ms. Victory. “Lucky we were able to score some repair parts at Kyle’s lab.”
“Let’s try the Strip District,” suggested the Galaxy Ranger. “Lots of warehouses and vacant lots. Maybe they ended up there.”
“Lead on,” said Ms. Victory.
Moments later they arrived at the bustling Strip District just outside of downtown Pittsburgh as a steady stream of tractor-trailer trucks and big rigs pulled in and out, delivering countless merchandise to distribution warehouses with customers galore on the streets and shops.
Passing by a newly renovated warehouse, Tara stopped the car at a traffic light and scanned around, then suddenly saw Stardust and Synn coming out of its windows and landing hard onto the ground nearly unconscious.
“Jen, Oriana, this is Tara,” said Tara as she pulled off the road and parked the car. “I’ve found Stardust and Synn, and they’re not alone!”
“We’ll be right there,” said Ms. Victory as she and the Galaxy Ranger increased their speed to close in on Tara’s position.
“Now, playtime’s over, and time to get back inside,” said the Grand Toyman maniacally as he emerged from the warehouse doors piloting a giant mechanized robot, bearing four legs and four arms, two of which bore fists and the other two bore machine guns. “Or do I need to play rough?”
“You called it, buster,” said Ms. Victory as she first swooped down and delivered a hard punch, knocking the giant robot suit off balance and tried to rip off one of its arms.
“Naughty, naughty. Grand Toyman must punish,” said the Grand Toyman as the two machine gun arms opened fire on Ms. Victory at point blank range, blasting her off with a hail of steel. While not piercing her flesh, the hard bullet impacts kept her stunned.
“Now for the coup de grace,” said the Grand Toyman as the chest of the robot suit opened up to a massive cannon as it prepared to deploy. Without warning a stream of searing laser struck into the bore of the cannon, detonating the ammunition inside as the robot suit exploded. As the smoke cleared, the Grand Toyman fell out of his canopy covered with black soot as his massive robot suit collapsed like a deck of cards into heaps of scorched junk metal.
“Indeed,” said the Galaxy Ranger with a smile of satisfaction, pulling her fist back to blow the smoke off of her wrist laser.
* * *
“How’re your teammates?” asked the Galaxy Ranger as the police cordoned off the area and paramedics treated Stardust and Synn. Ms. Victory was giving her statement to the police as Tara and the Galaxy Ranger remained away from the public spectacle created from everything.
“Not bad. Just a few cuts and bruises. They’ll heal quickly enough,” said Tara. “So who was that guy?”
“The Grand Toyman, a petty supervillain trying to make it big,” explained the Galaxy Ranger. “He was spotted in Orlando last year robbing kids with his remote controlled toys; who would’ve guessed he moved his operations to here? I’m glad you all were here to help catch him.”
“Thanks, but where does that leave us, now?” said Tara.
“I really don’t know,” conceded the Galaxy Ranger. “None of you have any money, so I suppose you four can crash at my place tonight and get a fresh start in the morning on how to get home.”
“SLUMBER PARTY! SLUMBER PARTY! SLUMBER PARTY!” giggled Synn cheerfully as she walked towards them, overhearing the tail end of Tara and the Galaxy Ranger’s conversation.
“What’s with her?” asked the Galaxy Ranger.
“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” said Tara.
Part II
“Make yourselves at home,” offered Galaxy Ranger as she opened the door to her apartment to allow Ms. Victory, Stardust, Tara, and Synn inside. “I should have dinner ready in about an hour or so.”
“Thanks, but we shouldn’t impose, Oriana,” said Ms. Victory. “Can’t we at least help out?”
“I kind of like being in control of my kitchen,” replied Oriana, a little embarrassed.
“Nice place you have,” complemented Synn as she flopped on the living room sofa. “It’s been a very, very long day,”
“Tell me about it,” replied Tara as she stretched out before sitting down. “How are you feeling, Stardust?”
“My head still hurts,” muttered Stardust. “Would an aspirin help? It’s acetyl salicylic acid,” said Galaxy Ranger.
“Yes, it would be fine. Why the chemical name, may I ask?” commented Stardust.
“I wasn’t sure how the chemicals here are Earth would react to your alien chemistry, Stardust,” replied Galaxy Ranger as she handed her two aspirin and a glass of water. “Which planet are you originally from?”
“Thank you. I’m the top scientist from the planet Rur. Have you been there?” asked Stardust.
“No, sorry. I’ve been to Aldeberan Seven and Typhorus One, though,” replied Galaxy Ranger. “Either of those planets sound familiar to you?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” answered Stardust. “I guess we’ll have to compare star charts some time!”
“I suppose so,” said Galaxy Ranger pleasantly as she starting boiling a large pot of water.
Galaxy Ranger prepared a large pan of lasagna for the dinner meal along with a large salad and Italian bread to go with it. She figured it’d fill them up well enough while not breaking her food budget. About three hours later the five heroines consumed the dinner meal and loaded up the dishwasher for the night before relaxing in the living room.
“That was wonderful. Thank you,” said Ms. Victory as Synn let out a couple hiccups.
“You’re welcome,” replied Galaxy Ranger. “I have enough blankets and pillows for everyone, but am not sure who’s going to sleep where. I only have one guest bed in the spare bedroom. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Stardust was hurt the most in today’s little scuffle, I’d say she gets the spare bed,” suggested Tara.
“I do not need preferential treatment,” stated Stardust.
“Tara’s right, Stardust,” added Synn. “You need rest.”
“Yes, I saw first hand how much beauty sleep you received at the hospitality of that villain,” replied Stardust.
“Okay, I know where this is going…” muttered Galaxy Ranger, who knew all too well that despite their amazing powers, they were still strongly emotional women prone to bickering now and then when given the opportunity. “I have a plan.”
Galaxy Ranger went to the kitchen and returned with four pieces of dried spaghetti. “Okay, you know the drill. Take one. Small stick gets the spare bed,” said Galaxy Ranger.
“You’re kidding,” replied Ms. Victory. “We’re drawing straws?”
“And, your problem is…?” joked Galaxy Ranger.
“Not at all,” said Ms. Victory as they each drew a piece of dried spaghetti, with Tara getting the spare bed.
“Clever thinking, Oriana,” said Ms. Victory pleasantly.
“Thanks, but get used to this method. It’s how we’re deciding who uses the bathroom first tomorrow,” replied Galaxy Ranger.
Ms. Victory, Synn, Tara, and Stardust burst out in laughter.
* * *
It was around 11:45 PM and Tara was fast asleep on the spare bed in the guest bedroom, while Ms. Victory and Synn slept on the floor in other room used as a study room in some borrowed sleeping bags Galaxy Ranger got from her neighbors down the hall. Stardust elected to sleep on the living room couch, but was still wide awake as Galaxy Ranger entered in long sleeve workout shirt and pair of boxer shorts, finding her watching some late night talk shows.
“Anything good?” said Galaxy Ranger.
“Strange, we have the identical television personalities in our universe, but there I never watched them. Now that we’re here, I was relieved to see them on these channels,” commented Stardust. “Why is that?”
“It’s probably because they’re familiar and remind you that you haven’t gone insane, Stardust,” suggested the Galaxy Ranger.
“I suppose so,” agreed Stardust. “Oh, my name’s Mara.”
“Mine’s Oriana,” said Galaxy Ranger. “So you can’t sleep, either, can you?”
“I am still wondering how we got here and how we are to return home,” conceded Stardust. “And yourself?”
“Tara snores like a buzz saw and Synn talks in cartoon voices in her sleep. I don’t know how Ms. Victory can sleep at all,” replied Galaxy Ranger.
“Jennifer stuffs cotton in her ears and then wraps a towel over her head. It works for her,” responded Stardust.
“Well, staying up all night isn’t going to help either of us,” commented Oriana as she heated up some milk and poured them into two mugs with some chocolate syrup. “This always helped me when I was a stressed out undergrad.”
“Thank you,” said Stardust as the two drank their warm milk cocoa. Within 30 minutes, Stardust was asleep on the couch and Galaxy Ranger was asleep in her bed also, although with a pillow over her head as Tara snored and Synn giggled aloud.
The next morning Galaxy Ranger pulled out five pieces of dried spaghetti to determine who would get the bathroom first. Synn drew the shortest straw and was the first one inside showering up as Galaxy Ranger started preparing breakfast.
“What exactly is a Galaxy Ranger, Oriana?” asked Stardust.
“It’s kind of like an interplanetary cop,” explained Galaxy Ranger as she began beating the eggs. “We’re each assigned a sector to patrol and round up alien criminals who seem to pop up on Earth a lot.”
“Why’s that?” asked Tara.
“I don’t know. Maybe the shopping?” commented Galaxy Ranger humorously. “My predecessor could probably give you a more thorough explanation about the whole organization; I try to stay away from all the bureaucracy involved.”
“Could your superiors help us? Their technology is clearly more advanced than what’s here on Earth,” suggested Stardust.
“Possibly, but only as a last resort,” said Galaxy Ranger. “It’s primarily a law enforcement group, not a lost and found service. I’d prefer to show them that we’ve exhausted our options here before going to them for assistance.”
“Sounds fair enough,” said Ms. Victory as Synn came out from the hallway in a bathrobe. “Where to, this morning?”
“I was thinking about taking Stardust with me to meet with Kyle again at Wean Hall. He has some prototype devices on quantum theory that she might be able to advance with her expertise,” suggested Galaxy Ranger. “I don’t see a reason to take the rest of you along, you can relax here or hang out in the city. Everything’s in walking distance and I can leave you a little cash if you need bus fare or to grab a bite to eat here and there.”
“I like this woman,” whispered the starry eyed Synn. “She’s paying us to hang out.”
“Shhh…!” muttered Tara.
“Are you sure?” said Ms. Victory skeptically. “Wouldn’t it be better if we came with you?”
“The two of us entering would be less conspicuous,” explained the Galaxy Ranger. “Having you four coming with me at the same time, even in regular clothes, would create quite a stir of curiosity that we don’t need.”
“I’m not following,” replied Ms. Victory.
“Think Baywatch meets Revenge of the Nerds,” suggested Galaxy Ranger.
“Ohhhhh….” said Ms. Victory in an epiphany.
* * *
About three hours later all five heroines were finished cleaning up in the bathroom, changed into regular civilian clothes, and eaten breakfast. As Galaxy Ranger took Stardust to Wean Hall on Carnegie Mellon University, Tara decided to go to the arboretum in Schenley Park outside the campus area while Ms. Victory and Synn hopped on a bus line to the Allegheny Center planetarium located near the heart of downtown Pittsburgh.
Upon entering the planetarium as it opened, the eager and wide eyed Synn first walked up to one of the child activity units illustrating the operation of the lunar lander as Ms. Victory paid the entrance fee for the two of them.
“Oooh, what does THIS button do?” giggled Synn.
“It’s going to be a long day,” thought Ms. Victory. “Nightveil’s so much better at keeping an eye on Synn than I am.”
* * *
Elsewhere Tara was among the first to enter the arboretum, a welcome change from the wintry weather she was dealing with while in Pittsburgh. Lush tropical trees and flowers from around the world filled the robust complex, making Tara a little homesick as a bald man wearing glasses greeted her.
“Hello, first time at the arboretum?” said the man as he handed her a tour guide pamphlet.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Tara as she took a good, hard look at him, as he looked strangely familiar. Tara then scanned his nametag, which read, “Dr. Heinrich Rittmeist.”
“Could it be him? The Nazi scientist behind Lady Panzer and Lady Luger?” realized Tara. “Or is this just a coincidence on this world?”
“This can’t be her! It’s impossible. A wild coincidence, it must be!” thought Dr. Rittmeist. “Still, there’s a way to find out.”
“How would you like a free tour? I’m one of researchers here,” offered Dr. Rittmeist.
“Oh, I couldn’t impose…” replied Tara.
“Not at all. You look like a nature lover yourself, Miss…” said Dr. Rittmeist.
“Fremont. Tara Fremont.” answered Tara.
“Tara Fremont of the accursed FemForce! How could they have tracked me here?! It’s impossible! This is a coincidence, it has to be!” thought Dr. Rittmeist.
“Shall we go?” offered Dr. Rittmeist.
“Lead on,” said Tara pleasantly.
For the first twenty minutes Dr. Rittmeist gave her a guided overview of the arboretum, slowly gaining a basic trust before leading her into his private laboratory, a secluded section that was newly added to it over the past two years.
“How long have you been in Pittsburgh, Miss Fremont?” asked Dr. Rittmeist.
“Oh, I’m just visiting,” replied Tara. “I reside in Florida, actually. How about you?”
“Ah, Florida’s a beautiful state in a beautiful country,” replied Dr. Rittmeist. “I’ve been here about two years, give or take a month or two.”
“What kind of plants are these?” asked Tara. “I’ve never seen them before.”
Painting of Tara by Marcus Boas“Ah yes, they’re a special breed. They emit a most fragrant scent that lasts quite a while; I’ve been trying to develop it as a substitute for using animal materiel like ambergris in the production of perfume,” explained Dr. Rittmeist. “Why don’t you sample it?”
“Okay,” agreed Tara as she walked over to it, when suddenly vines ensnared her wrists and ankles at first before ripping off her clothes within seconds, revealing her green camouflaged bikini and knife strapped to her leg.
“WHAT THE….!” yelled Tara.
“So, it IS you. Tara of FemForce!!!!” realized Dr. Rittmeist. “I don’t know how you tracked me across the dimensions, but my carnivorous plant will finish you once and for all!”
“YOU!!!” shouted Tara, realizing that it really was Dr. Rittmeist, formerly of the infamous Third Reich who oversaw the creation of Lady Panzer and other super powered muscle fighting for the Nazis. Using his own version of the V-45 formula, he’s been able to stave off the effects of aging to an extent, and somehow transported himself from their home dimension into this one. “ALL THIS TIME…!!!! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!!!”
“No, simply disappeared,” replied Dr. Rittmeist sinisterly. “I’m sure in some other dimension Elvis is having a grand old time.”
“AAARRRGHHH!!!” yelled out Tara as the vines tightened their grip around her. Tara managed to grab her knife, but with her wrist ensnared she could cut herself free.
“It’ll be over soon enough,” cackled Dr. Rittmeist. “How’d you do it?” grunted Tara. “How’d you get from our world to this one?”
“A lucky accident, really,” conceded Dr. Rittmeist. “I was trying to develop a quantum energy bomb to annihilate you all in one fell swoop but the prototype went off prematurely and created a dimensional rift that warped space and time itself, it seems. I ended up here. A lucky event, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah…great…” muttered Tara. “I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice.”
Tara bit down on the vines, piercing its vegetated flesh with her teeth to free her wrist. Tara immediately impaled the plant as she rammed the knife backwards, driving it deep into its core as she pulled it out and stabbed again. Mortally wounded, the carnivorous plant released its grip on Tara as it flailed wildly while Dr. Rittmeist ran to grab one of his weapons.
“OH NO, YOU DON’T!!!” yelled Tara as she jumped off the plant and delivered a hard kick into the back of Dr. Rittmeist, knocking him to the floor out cold.
Tara activated her communicator to Ms. Victory and Stardust. “Meet me at the arboretum. We’re going home,” said Tara sternly.
* * *
An hour later Ms. Victory, Stardust, Synn, Tara, and Galaxy Ranger had Dr. Rittmeist in custody and were reviewing the design schematics he recorded on his desktop computer. Coincidentally, he had another prototype of the quantum bomb constructed in his private lab that was inactive.
“It won’t work. It has no power source,” blurted out Dr. Rittmeist. “I wasn’t able to steal something to power it up without getting caught.”
“Which was why you worked at the arboretum, to try and steal some of the experimental energy sources they’ve been working at the universities in town,” deduced Galaxy Ranger.
“Yes, very clever,” muttered Dr. Rittmeist.
“Quantum theory is based on photon energy, right?” said Tara.
“Yes, that’s what Kyle told me,” agreed Galaxy Ranger.
“Yes, that’s true,” added Stardust.
“Can’t you two charge it up?” suggested Tara. “The Galaxy Ranger’s lasers and Stardust’s star energy just might be enough to start the chain reaction to get us home.
“It also could blow everyone to kingdom come,” commented Galaxy Ranger. “True, but Synn can create a shield so if the worst happens, it’ll only affect us,” said Ms. Victory. “It just might be our only way home.”
“It’s up to you,” said Galaxy Ranger.
“I’m for it,” said Tara.
“Me too,” said Synn.
“I, as well,” said Stardust.
“And you know how I feel,” stated Ms. Victory. “Let’s do it.”
Synn created a defensive field around them as Stardust and Galaxy Ranger began charging the quantum bomb with their star and laser blasts, feeding a steady stream at a low level. Slowly, they increased more and more power as the quantum bomb began activating with a short countdown.
“No time for long goodbyes, Oriana, get out of here or you’re coming with us,” said Ms. Victory.
“Good luck,” said Galaxy Ranger as she gave them a quick hug and flew out of the lab through a temporary hole in the shield Synn created and watched overhead as a large glowing orb engulfed them within Synn’s shield before imploding in on itself. Galaxy Ranger descended and surveyed the area, finding no sign of them.
“God speed,” whispered Galaxy Ranger.
* * *
Ms. Victory, Stardust, Tara, Synn, and Dr. Rittmeist blacked out from the implosion of quantum energy and awoke on a rooftop with the hot sun beating down on them. Ms. Victory was the first to awake, seeing everyone sprawled and out cold. Ms. Victory walked to the edge of the roof and scanned around the immediate area, finding several large billboards posted.
The first read, “HIDALGO, ONLY ON CHANNEL 10”
“No way,” said Ms. Victory as a smile started to form on her face.
The second read, “USE STELLA STARGAZE COSMETICS AND BE THE TRENDSETTER!”
“No way,” added Ms. Victory as the smile started to grow.
The third read, “SEE RAYDA IN ACTION WOMAN RETURNS, OPENING FEB 4TH! ONLY IN THEATRES!”
“Way,” said Ms. Victory with a beaming grin. “We’re home.”
THE END
Ms. Victory, Stardust, Tara, and Synn were glad to be home. When they told fellow members Nightveil, Colt, She-Cat, and Rayda about the whole thing their friends almost couldn’t believe their eyes, but when they saw Dr. Heinrich Rittmeist in custody, all doubts disappeared.
“So you were in that parallel universe all that time, and you didn’t get any of us a souvenir?” teased Colt.
Synn shrugged as she said, “I would’ve, but Ms. Victory was being such a tightwad. We were at this planetarium, and she didn’t want to buy a single thing at the gift shop!”
“Well, I felt bad,” replied Ms. Victory. “It wasn’t our money, it was what Galaxy Ranger lent us while she and Stardust were trying to find us a way home. It didn’t feel right spending every penny she gave us.”
“You did the right thing, Jen,” added Tara. “Synn’s just razzing you because you’re so straight laced sometimes.”
“Galaxy Ranger sounded like a nice person, and a tough heroine,” commented Nightveil. “I’m sure we could’ve use someone like her to shore up our ranks.”
“Yes, she was very intelligent, intense, and possessed a considerable balance of speed, strength, and firepower,” said Stardust. “And she accomplished the impossible.”
“How’s that?” asked She-Cat.
“She got all of us to share the same bathroom in a neat and organized manner,” stated Stardust.
“No way,” replied She-Cat in disbelief. “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.”
“No, she really did. Sincerely!” insisted Synn. “She made us draw straws.”
“Cute,” said Rayda as she and the rest got a chuckle.
“Overall, though, in our timeline you were only gone for a few hours after your skirmish with Battlezone,” said Nightveil. “How long were you in that parallel world?”
“About a day, I think,” answered Ms. Victory. “So many things there were identical to ours, and yet, so many things were different.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re all back, and having Rittmeist in custody is an added bonus,” said Colt.
* * *
The rest of the day was some private time for the respective FemForce members. She-Cat worked out in the headquarters gym, Ms. Victory went with Nightveil for some shopping at some arcane and supernatural themed stores as a change of pace, Rayda headed out to meet with her agent, Colt practiced firing on the weapons range, Synn relaxed in her room watching soap operas, and Stardust was practicing in the FemForce danger room.
It was about 4 PM when She-Cat passed by the danger room, seeing Stardust successfully complete a combat scenario. She-Cat was wiping off the sweat with a towel and popped her head inside as Stardust landed.
“Hey, Dusty, what’re you doing for dinner?” asked She-Cat.
“I had not thought that far ahead, why?” replied Stardust.
“Why don’t you come with me to that new Italian place that opened up, Salvatore’s?” offered She-Cat. “It’s not far from here.”
“There are dozens of places like that in town. Why that one in particular?” asked Stardust.
“Well, it’s got culture, yeah, that’s it, it’s really chic and the food’s really good there, too,” explained She-Cat.
“How would you know? It has just opened and from the tone of your voice, it implies that you have never been there before,” reminded Stardust politely.
“Ah, shoot, ya got me, Dusty,” said She-Cat with a giggle. “I got a promo offer that says that if I bring a friend I get 50% off my meal at Salvatore’s.”
“That sounds more like it,” said Stardust with a smile. “I’ll meet you in the headquarters lobby in an hour.”
* * *
At about 5 PM She-Cat and Stardust were dressed to impress enroute to Salvatore’s in She-Cat’s car, a high-powered, sanguine red Dodge Stealth as she zoomed down the expressway at a high speed.
“Jessica, please drive defensively,” said Stardust as she held onto the armrest tightly.
“You know, Dusty, the best defense is a good offense,” replied She-Cat as she hit the accelerator again to pass a couple more cars. “YEEEEEEHAAAAAAA!!!!”
“I knew I should’ve insisted more on driving…” thought Stardust.
Minutes later, She-Cat and Stardust pulled into the parking lot of Salvatore’s, where the valets greeted them and opened the car doors for Stardust and She-Cat.
“Here ya go, kid,” said She-Cat as she tossed him the keys, her fiery eyes flashing directly into his. “Don’t even think about joy-riding in my wheels, get me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the valet as he momentarily quivered.
Both were a bit surprised at the outward appearance of Salvatore’s, which really was a high class restaurant that made She-Cat feel a little bit of the bum’s rush as they opened the front door and unrolled the red carpet for them.
“Good evening,” greeted the headwaiter. “Welcome to Salvatore’s. How many in your party?”
“Two,” answered She-Cat.
“Right this way. A table on the balcony, perhaps?”
“Um…sure,” replied Stardust as the head waiter led them up the grand concourse to a second tier array of tables, allowing them to overlook the entire restaurant and observe the beautiful paintings and Italian art decorating the restaurant, including the ceiling itself.
“Enjoy your dining experience,” said the headwaiter pleasantly as he handed them the menu and wine list. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”
“What do you think?” said She-Cat.
“Extremely high class,” commented Stardust as she observed the various art decorations. “I just hope the food matches the ambience.”
As another waiter passed by their table, Stardust briefly motioned her over for a question.
“Excuse me, those art pieces you have on display in this restaurant, are they the originals or replicas?” asked Stardust.
“Those are the originals, ma’am. But don’t worry, they’re all wired into an alarm system, so they won’t get stolen,” explained the waiter.
“Interesting.” said Stardust.
* * *
“You sure you can bring all that stuff out at once, Tom? That’s a big load of pasta,” said Chris, one of the waiters as Tom mounted several plates of Italian dishes onto his tray and raised them up on his shoulder.
“Yeah, no problem. I brought out twice this amount earlier this week for the lunch crowd,” replied Tom confidently as he walked out onto the restaurant floor with the oversized tray filled with exotic pasta dishes.
“Aw, nuts!” commented a customer at a nearby table as he accidentally spilled his glass goblet of ice water. The majority of the water spilled on the table and soaked the tablecloth as a few ice cubes rolled onto the floor.
“No problem, sir. We’ll move you and your family to a new table,” said another waiter as he helped the customer and his family move while another began policing up the small mess.
As Tom passed by the table, he avoided the family as they walked to another table, the other two waiters, but slipped on the ice cubes.
“OH NO…..!!!!” cried out Tom as he lost his balance and fell forward, as the massive tray of Italian pasta dishes flew across and landed en masse onto one of the artifact pieces kept on display in the restaurant, a bronze mask. The bronze mask began to glow with a strange green light, as the pasta noodles, sauce, and meats began coalescing into a body as arms, legs, and torso of pasta of all shapes and sizes formed.
“AAAAAAHHHH!!!!!” shrieked Tom in terror as he fled into the kitchen. “IT’S ALIVE!!! IT’S ALIVE!!!”
“Dusty, do you see what I see?” muttered She-Cat in partial disbelief as she noticed the man-sized pasta monster taking shape.
“I see it, but I do not believe it,” replied Stardust.
“BRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!!” roared the pasta monster.
“Okay, now I believe it,” said Stardust.
“I’ll get him outside into the parking lot. You finish him off,” said She-Cat.
“Understood,” answered Stardust as the two got up from their table. She-Cat removed her high heels and ripped her skirt partially, allowing her legs free range of motion as Stardust simply went out the fire escape and took to the air as the restaurant employees and customers fled out the other emergency exits.
“OUT YOU GO!” yelled out She-Cat as she picked up a table and charged the pasta monster, pressing the wide area surface against him as she shoved, and forced him out of the restaurant doors to the outside parking lot, where Stardust was overhead.
“NOW, DUSTY! NAIL ‘EM!” said She-Cat as Stardust fired an energy blast straight into the pasta monster. Instead of blowing it up, though, her star energy somehow supercharged it as it grew from about a 4 feet tall to a staggering 20 feet tall!
“BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!” bellowed the pasta monster.
“Oh dear,” muttered Stardust embarrassingly.
“@@**!^^%$$$##!!!!!!” cursed She-Cat over the turn of events.
“RRRRAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!” roared the giant pasta monster as it grabbed She-Cat, ensnaring her with its sinewy body of noodles.
“HEY! LEMME GO, YOU OVERSIZED BLOB OF LINGUINI!!!!” protested She-Cat.
“SHE-CAT!!!!” yelled out Stardust as she instinctively fired another energy blast at the giant pasta monster, foolishly forgetting what the effect was momentarily as the creature grew even more, and was now 30 feet tall!
“WILL YA STOP FEEDIN’ HIM, DUSTY??!!!!” screamed She-Cat as she clawed away as the pasta, freeing her hands.
“Sorry!” said Stardust. “We need to find its power source! The artifact!”
“Ugh…this ain’t gonna be pretty…” muttered She-Cat as she slipped out of the giant pasta monster’s grip and dove into its chest cavity, scrapping, cutting, even eating her way through to try and find the artifact.
“HO-HO-HO!!!!” bellowed the pasta monster as it engulfed She-Cat.
“NO!!!!” yelled out Stardust as she powerlessly hovered over the lumbering giant pasta monster, knowing all too well her powers would only make it larger.
Just then She-Cat lunged out of the massive pasta monster’s torso, clutching the magic artifact that started the whole mess to begin with as she fell downward and was caught by Stardust. Separated from the artifact, the giant pasta monster shrunk and collapsed into a messy pile of sauce and wet noodles.
“Thanks, Dusty,” said She-Cat with a measure of mischief as the two heroines began shaking off the messy globs of pasta and sauce from their bodies. “So, what do you think?”
“The encounter at this restaurant is a persuasive argument for the low-carbohydrate diet Earthlings have been raving about,” replied Stardust sternly. “I will leave it at that.”
* * *
It was about 9 PM back at FemForce Headquarters when She-Cat and Stardust closed things out at Salvatore’s and cleaned themselves up. Both were in bathrobes in the lounge when Colt sauntered by, catching their latest escapade on a news special report.
“Well, at least you didn’t destroy anything this time,” teased Colt.
“Funny, runt,” replied She-Cat.
“Was the place any good?” asked Colt.
“I really do not know,” answered Stardust. “The monster appeared just as our meal arrived, so we never had a chance to eat it between fighting and cleaning up. The aroma was enticing, though.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get another chance,” said She-Cat.
“How’s that?” asked Colt.
“I do not understand, either,” said Stardust.
“Well, it turns out our little run-in brought some big-name publicity for the place, so much so the owners gave us free dinners at Salvatore’s and guaranteed reservations for a year,” explained She-Cat.
Colt threw her arms up and laughed as she said, “Why am I not surprised…?”
The End
