Astoria, OR / The Cell Block — 10 July 2019, 14:15
At Dispatch’s bemused suggestion JJ flipped on the feed from one of the local news stations, sending the images up to the the Ready Room’s main monitor screen. The view was an aerial view from the KRCA Channel 5 news chopper, hovering over one of the city’s expressways – The Arthur C. Clarke, by the Costco visible to the left side of the screen. An excited Gary Carter, the channel’s Eye in the Sky traffic reporter, was breathlessly describing the action…
“…traffic is a snarled mess from the University District to Uptown, thanks to two unidentified cars that seem to be racing one another at incredible speeds. The police can’t seem to keep up, and so far attempts to cut off these reckless daredevils have been ineffective.
“If eyewitness reports are to be believed, these drivers even seem to be defying the laws of physics at times – actually racing up the sides of buildings to avoid road obstructions and grinding on overpass railings! Following their trail from where it all seems to have begun, near the City University campus, I’d guess they’ve caused a couple million in damages already. From ACU they tore up the Midvale Expressway, then cut over to the Arthur C. Clarke to avoid a hastily thrown up police barricade. Reports indicate they’ve just hit Sunset Boulevard… they seem headed for the I-84 interchange. If they do get on the Aurora, there’s no telling which way they’ll go – west into Downtown or east into the suburbs. Either way it looks to be—
“Hold on – OK, there they are! We’ve got them in sight now. Gene, can you zoom in— holy cow, they weren’t kidding! Somehow that Humvee is GRINDING on the guard rail of the Crestline Viaduct! And the yellow Camaro is – wait, are these guys from England or something? I’m not seeing… Gene, can you get in tighter? I’m bringing us around, see if you can get a shot of the drivers… what the hell?!
“As you can see ladies and gentlemen, there appears to be no one actually driving these cars! Are they being controlled remotely or is this some crazy meta-human manifestation? Folks, anything’s possible in this wacky world, so who knows! This Eye-in-the-sky-reporter sure don’t!
“But whatever the truth is, one thing’s clear – if you’re in the Uptown or Union Hill areas and don’t absolutely have to be somewhere, STAY PUT, ‘cause you’re not getting there anyway. And the evening commute is shaping up to be a real nightmare. But remember, we’ll be here to bring you up-to-the-minute news on—”
JJ muted the sound and Chuck leaned forward to frown thoughtfully at the on-going mayhem on the screen. “Something about those two cars looks really familiar…”
His face lit with a sudden flash of insight, and he tapped a few buttons on his PADD. A pair of vehicles, identical in every detail to the ones being tracked on the TV, popped up in the central holodisplay, turning slowly. Chuck grinned.
“Ha! I thought I recognized those vehicles — their Transformers!” Everyone around the table, with the exception of Jonny, looked at him blankly.
“Oh, yeah, I remember those from reruns on the Cartoon Network, when I was little,” Jonny said, leaning in to look more closely at the turning images. “The yellow one is… Bumblebee, right?”
“Yeah, and I think the other one is Ratchet,” Chuck nodded. “I have no idea how they—“
“Excuse me, what the hell are you two talking about?” JJ interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. “We’re trying to assess a threat level here. If you know something, please enlighten the rest of us. Are these things dangerous, beyond the obvious property damage and risk to other drivers?”
“Well, if they’re actually Transformers, then yes, I’d say they’re pretty dangerous,” Chuck said. “Of course they could just be cars made up to look like –“
“What is a Transformer, Charles?” Artemis asked, in a tone of voice that told the ice elemental that she was being… patient. Chuck reddened slightly and hurried to explain.
“It’s an old cartoon series, and a line of toys, from the 80’s. They were cybertrons, or something, alien cybernetic beings from another planet — essentially giant robots. Their gimmick was that they could transform from robots into various vehicles, to blend in here on Earth. They were at war with another faction of their kind, and they ended up slugging it out on our planet, of course.
“These two vehicles look exactly like two of the good Transformers, Bumblebee and Ratchet, and if they can also turn into giant robots… well they were pretty powerful in the cartoon show. But maybe these are good guys too? Although they are acting pretty reckless, I guess, so who knows…”
“Well, if there’s any possibility of them turning into giant robots, we clearly need to be involved,” JJ said. “The first thing to do is get them off the streets of the city and as isolated as possible, to avoid more collateral damage. Artemis, stand by at the Interceptor, in case we need more air support; Blue Flame, Chilz, you’re with me. Quanta… Quanta, are you listening?”
Things had been a little strained around Kyle the last several days, with everyone walking on eggshells after the events in Saudi Arabia. As Artemis had predicted, he’d returned when he was ready – in fact, just 48 hours after he’d tunneled away from the fight at the Maw of the Voracious. He’d apologized, both for his actions under the mental compulsion with which the Succubus had assaulted him, and for his abrupt departure. He’d also seemed to truly accept his teammates’ assurances that no one blamed him for what the demon had unleashed, and that they understood his need to be alone afterward.
Nonetheless, he’d seemed different somehow… not guilt-ridden, JJ didn’t think, although that might have been the expected reaction. Instead, his attitude seemed much the opposite. To JJ his friend appeared more confident than before, more decisive… at least when he was actually focused on team business. But he had also become increasingly distracted, spending stretches of time away (although he refused to take any actual leave time), and was deep in text or phone conversations even when he was physically present. So far JJ had let it slide, since there hadn’t been any serious field action recently, but if that was changing…
“Yes, I heard everything,” Quanta replied, before JJ could say anything else. He tucked his cell phone into the special pocket for it in his uniform, at the small of his back, and stood up. “I have an idea about these cars, whether they’re actually these “Transformers” or not, but I’ll need equipment here at the Pyramid. I’ll stay in touch, in case my theory pans out, or if you should need me there.”
As Quanta headed for, presumably, either his office or one of the labs, and Artemis and Totem headed for the hangar, Scion, the Blue Flame, and Chilz stepped out onto the balcony which ran all around the Pyramid’s 72nd floor. As the first two took to the air, and Chilz threw an ice slide over the railing to follow, Dispatch reported that the rogue vehicles were now westbound on the Aurora Freeway. Which meant they’d soon be on the elevated section of the I-84, just two blocks south of the Vanguard’s headquarters.
“Blue Flame, keep an eye out on traffic, concentrate on protecting any drivers on the I-84. I’m going to try an EMP on them – always the chance it really will be that simple. But if not, Chilz, can you make a personal off-ramp for them? There’s that large public parking lot under and just north of the freeway… if we can get them down there, maybe we can limit any more collateral damage to just cars.”
“Can do boss,” Chilz said, already arcing away on his ice slide toward the freeway. “I’d rather exit them straight into the river, but it’s just too far — especially if they really can turn into big robots!”
A few seconds later both Scion and the Blue Flame had reached the driverless speed demons, which continued to weave in and out between cars and trucks with reckless abandon. The Blue Flame immediately dove in and began clearing the way, signaling drivers ahead of the two cars, and as yet unaware of what was coming up behind them, to move over and stop. This being Astoria, the citizens didn’t hesitate when one of their local heroes gave orders. In a few seconds the roadway ahead was clear of traffic.
The two racing vehicles picked up even more speed as the path in front of them cleared, and Scion dove down to meet them. As they flashed past him to either side, he released as large an EMP as he dared in the heart of the city, focusing it as much as possible on the two cars. Neither vehicle slowed down, and he sighed as he rose and banked sharply to pursue them. He hadn’t really expected it to work, but just once wouldn’t it be nice if it could be that simple?
Just as he caught up with the speed demons, a dozen yards ahead of them and to the right Chilz shot up from below the freeway deck on a pillar of ice. Two wide ramps of ice shot our from his hands, hitting the pavement directly in front of the two cars. With no time or space to stop or veer, both vehicles shot up onto the ice ramps, which immediately began to bank and turn sharply to the right. Chilz then dropped them down toward the 4th Street parking lot below.
When the vehicles went over the side of the Aurora Freeway they were a yellow Camaro and a bright green EMS humvee… but what landed on the asphalt of the parking lot were two humanoid-shaped robots, sharing the same colors and standing at least 20 feet tall. Actually, they were each exactly 23.27 feet tall, Scion’s sensors informed him as he whipped over the side of the freeway himself and hovered in front of them. The transformation had been astonishingly fast… he was both impressed and annoyed.
“Hey! You guys ruined our race,” the big yellow robot yelled in a petulant voice, at a volume that threatened to shatter windows in the surrounding buildings. “No fair, you shoulda waited your turn to play!”
“Aw, if they wanna play, Bumblebee, I’m game,” the green robot boomed out in a deeper but equally loud voice, bending down to snatch up a yellow Tesla Volt. “Besides, I was winning anyway! Catch!” It tossed the car toward its companion, who caught it easily, crumpling the roof in its own massive yellow fist. Pellets of glass rained down as Bumblebee raised it up to toss it to Chiilz.
“Wait! Wait!” Chilz cried out, rising up on an ice ramp to the level of Bumblebee’s head. “Listen, we didn’t mean to ruin your race, but you were risking the lives of innocent people… and I know you’re not bad guys, right?”
“Of course not!” Bumblebee sounded indignant. “That’s why we’re letting you play, too. Catch!”
At the same moment that the yellow Transformer threw the Tesla, Ratchet picked up a blue Ford F-10 and tossed it at the Blue Flame, who was hovering nearby. “Here, this matches your color, dude. Catch!”
Chilz caught the bent and crushed Tesla with little trouble, tossing it behind him onto a section of asphalt empty of other vehicles. The Blue Flame, on the other hand, increased his thermal output as the Ford reached him. Like the proverbial hot knife through butter, he melted the truck into two pieces which crashed down behind him… crushing several more parked vehicles, unfortunately.
“Chilz, Blue Flame, I’ve scanned them both thoroughly,” Scion’s voice boomed out over his PA speakers. “They are entirely mechanical… although they are giving off some really strange energy readings… But there is nothing organic inside, so no need to hold back. We need to bring them down here, before they can get further into the city.”
The Blue Flame didn’t hesitate, unleashing a blast of superheated plasma at Ratchet, engulfing the green Transformer’s torso and head in azure fire. Chilz blasted Bumblebee with a fusillade of ice spears, which shattered against its yellow shell. Neither Transformer seemed damaged by the attacks.
“Artemis, Totem, I didn’t think we’re going to need the Interceptor,” Scion said over comms as he followed up his teammates’ attacks with a barrage of his own. His electro-bolts stitched small welts across both metallic hides, but the dents healed almost instantly, leaving the robots unaffected. “The cars have transformed into the giant robots Chilz mentioned. I think we’re going to need you both here. Quanta, how’s that idea of yours coming along?”
“Working on it, Scion,” Quanta replied absently. Back at the Pyramid he was staring intently at the computer terminal in Artemis’ office, that being the one with the best view of the city, Mt. Defiance, and the Pacific. He was going to want that backdrop for his next video call, once this matter was dealt with. “I’ve isolated a Bluetooth signal between the two, but it’s strongly encrypted… and the firewall is really something.” He tapped out several quick commands, frowning at the screen. “Anything you can do to interrupt that signal, even briefly, would be a big help.”
Meanwhile, just as Artemis and Totem appeared in the deepest of the shadows under the elevated freeway, both Transformers raised an arm, one pointing directly at Chilz and the other at the Blue Flame. Two missiles erupted from each forearm casing – the Blue Flame zigged and then zagged, dodging the two aimed at him; Chilz, less mobile on his ice slide, was struck in the chest my one missile, while the other shattered the slide itself. He was blown back to come crashing down onto several parked cars… he winced as he pulled himself from the twisted wreckage of a Mercedes SL and another Tesla – this one an Electraglide. Damn, this is getting to be an expensive operation, he thought. Thank god for insurance… and de la Vega’s deep pockets!
The Blue Flame was having his own moment of regret. He’d realized, just a second too late, that he should have plasma-blasted his two missiles, instead of showing off how nimble he was. True, they’d missed him quite handily… but they hadn’t missed the elevated Aurora Freeway directly behind him. Both had exploded into the north side of the structure, sending concrete and rebar raining down into the parking lot. At least another dozen cars in the lot were totaled. But hey, I cleared the freeway earlier, Jonny thought, glancing around to see if Scion had noticed the explosions. So at least there’s no danger of innocent commuters plunging into that gaping hole in the roadway…
As Bumblebee raised his other arm, taking aim at the hovering form of Scion, Artemis leaped from the shadows onto the roof of a nearby truck and snapped her Shadow Whip out. It’s ebony strands wrapped around the massive arm, and she tugged with all her strength, yanking it down to point at the asphalt. At the same moment Scion aimed another electromagnetic attack at point blank range into the yellow Transformer’s head — and this time it seemed to stagger the robot.
Totem, who had decided that the strength of Bear might be of more use in this situation, rushed forward to tackle the metal giant, only to be met with a spasmodic kick from one massive leg, a result of Scions scrambling its brains. The blow sent him flying across the parking lot to slam into a freeway support pillar. With a growl, he pulled himself from the Bear-shaped impression in the concrete and shook his head. Ever since Kúng had absorbed that eldritch energy back in Saudi Arabia, they’d all felt stronger, more energized – but also much less in control of their abilities. The boy really needed to integrate this new power soon… but maybe that was going to take a team effort…
While the others were dealing with Bumblebee, the Blue Flame and Chilz had turned their attention to Ratchet. “Time to try out the Go To Extremes Maneuver,” Chilz called out. Giving him a thumbs-up, the Blue Fame dove in low, aiming an intense blast of plasma at the Transformer’s feet… and the ground beneath them. The asphalt melted and flowed like molasses under the heated metal, and the robot sank several inches into the sticky surface.
As it struggled to pull its feet out of the morass, Chilz glided in on an ice ramp, almost-invisible greenish energy rippling from his hands. Ratchet’s feet and the pavement around him became coated in green ice, re-hardening the asphalt instantly and trapping him like a dinosaur in a tar pit — a very shallow tar pit, but sufficient. As the robot struggled to free its feet, micro-fractures ran up its — the superheated and then supercooled metal stressed to its tolerances.
“Hey! No fair,” Ratchet cried out, and at the same moment Scion sent another massive EMP into Bumblebee’s head. This time the yellow Transformer froze in place, the light in its eyes flickering before going dark… and then it began to topple. Bear leaped over half a dozen cars and intercepted the falling robot, lowering it slowly to the ground, and away from any more cars. Well, except for an ancient Toyota Camry, which was crushed by a limp robotic arm. At least it wasn’t another Tesla, Scion sighed inwardly. Maybe the owner will be grateful to be getting a new car, courtesy of the Vanguard…
Back at the Pyramid, Quanta shouted “Yes!” and hit the Return key on Artemis’ computer. The worm program he’d written flashed out and into the momentarily defenseless computer brain of Bumblebee. From there it was no trouble at all to punch through the still active defenses of Ratchet – defenses aimed outward, and thus not expecting an attack from within. Even as the green Transformer complained “Hey, no fair,” his own electronic mind shut down, his eyes flickering and then going dark too.
The rest of the Vanguard stared warily up at the seemingly deactivated robot, Bear ready to catch it should it, too, fall. But with feet locked in the asphalt, it remained upright, and after a moment they all began to relax.
“Well done, team,” Scion said. “Very well done – that was as by the numbers as we could want. Chilz and Blue Flame, particular kudos for that double-team action. Now let’s see if we can figure out what the hell this escapade was all about.”
•• •• ••
As soon as the APD and SHADE were on the scene and able to take over the removal of the now inert giant robots, the Vanguard returned to the Pyramid. Artemis was surprised to find Quanta in her office, just finishing up a video phone call. In German.
“Yes, Dr. Becker, I respect Dr. Jörg Winkler but I want you handling this,” Quanta was saying as she leaned in her doorway, an eyebrow raised in surprise. He held up a finger and went on, “I just think you’re better suited to handling the specifics of this case… thank you Nikolaus, I appreciate it. I believe I can arrange a meeting for early next week, if that works with your schedule… yes, wonderful. I’ll see you then. Thanks again.”
“You do have your own office, Kyle,” Artemis said mildly, as he ended the call and stood up, moving out from behind her desk and picking up his PADD. “Any particular reason you are using mine?”
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind,” Kyle shrugged. “I felt the more impressive view from your office would help in a video call concerning a… private matter I’m pursuing.”
He does’t seem particularly sorry at all, she thought. Which was unusual for him… while not as obviously as intimidated by her as the younger males on the team sometimes were, Kyle had always been at least a little wary around her. That had changed since the debacle in Saudi Arabia… a change of which, on the whole, she approved. Still…
“Apology accepted, Kyle,” she said, moving around to drop into the seat he’d just vacated. She looked up at him as he turned to go, catching his eye. “But in the future, please ask before using my space, yes? Especially when pursuing your efforts to get Epiphany Jones a new hearing. I assume, despite making calls from our HQ, you’re not using your position in the Vanguard to pursue this matter?
“It’s not hard to put together,” she went on at his startled look. Startled, she noted, but not nervous, as he would’ve been even a week ago. Perhaps that encounter with the Succubus would turn out to have been a good thing after all. Perhaps.
“I speak German too, Kyle, and I also know that Nikolaus Becker is the foremost expert on meta-human psychosis in the West. His clinic in Hamburg has made great strides in the last five years in the diagnosis and treatment of power-induced psychotic breaks in new meta-humans.
“Combined with at least two contacts that I’m aware of with leading criminal defense law firms in both New Atlantis and New York, and your well known affection for the young woman, it’s obvious you hope to secure her legal release, if possible. If you wanted the effort to be secret, you might have been better off pursuing it away from your coworkers.” She smiled as she said that last piece, to take the sting out of it. She actually understood his impulse in this matter… better than he might imagine.
“Well, at least away from the one coworker who is also probably the world’s greatest living detective,” he sighed. He looked down at his PADD for a moment, turning it absently in his hands, then back at her. “I’m not exactly trying to keep it a secret, Artemis, but I’m not ready to share this with the team, not yet. Not until I know if the possibility is even practical. Hell, I don’t even know if she feels the same way about me…”
“And you’re finding it hard to get in to speak with her directly, I assume?”
“Ha! Yes! I can make arrangements for lawyers or doctors to see her, but I’m having shit-all luck getting an interview with her myself. Do they really think I’d try and break her out of custody? Hell, I helped put her there. Twice!”
“And perhaps you now regret that,” Artemis said, pulling back her hood and leaning back in her chair. Her mask was already in its slot on her belt. “No, no, don’t get bent out of shape, I don’t actually believe that. But the institutional mindset can be somewhat narrow, and certainly suspicious. Which is, after all, their function. I don’t think anyone else who knows you believes you’d actually break her out, either. But the authorities don’t like to take chances when they can avoid them… especially with a power-set as dangerous as Ms. Jones’.
“That said, I have a few strings at my disposal, which I might be willing to pull on your behalf. If it will help to get your mind back on your job… during business hours, at least. Tell me Kyle, if it turns out she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, what then?”
Kyle shrugged. “I’ll still see to it that she has the best doctors and legal representation my money can buy her. But if there’s really nothing for me there, I’ll move on… sad, sure, but hardly broken. It’s the dithering around I’ve done for so long that’s been the problem. Not just about her, but about so many things in my life. I’m done with that. Whatever happens, I’m moving forward from here on out — no more treading water!”
Artemis actually smiled, a full-on smile rather than her usual Mona Lisa demi-smile. “That’s good to hear, my friend. I’ll make a call this afternoon, and see what we can do about getting you in to see Epiphany… in the meantime, everyone is waiting in the Ready Room, to go over what we know about today’s strange encounter with those “Transformers.” I assume you’ve had some time to go over the data, between the personal phone calls?”
•• •• ••
Quanta had, in fact, examined the data he’d pulled from the deactivated robots, and he filled in the others a few minutes later. “It appears the robots’ primary function was to keep the authorities, and especially the Vanguard, distracted for as long as possible. There is some deeper programming in there, but it’s going to take time for the computers to decrypt and analyze it.
“I was able to determine that these so-called Transformers are not sentient beings. They don’t even rise to the level of true AI; not even close, really. The programming was fairly sophisticated, but nothing that any one of a score of talented hackers listed in our databases couldn’t have easily pulled off.”
“While we were out dealing with these rampaging “toys” I had Dispatch run a check on any similar incidents recently,” Scion said. “They didn’t have to look far — two other nearly identical attacks have occurred in the last four days. One was in New Atlantis, yesterday; the other was in San Francisco two days before that.
“The San Francisco incident involved Transformers named…” he glanced down at his PADD, “Optimus Prime and Megatron. Unlike our two, they appeared to have been battling one another, although neither one seemed to have any regard for collateral damage. In New Atlantis it was Bulkhead and Starscream, also locked in their own combat and doing significant property damage in the process.
“Zephyr and Nova of the Phenom Four brought down the New Atlantis robots fairly quickly, although not much was left of the mechs afterward. The two in San Francisco gave the Guardian a tougher time, but he eventually was able to blow them apart over the Bay, with minimal damage to the Bay Bridge… again, not much left there to sift through for clues. So it looks like whatever we can get out of Bumblebee and Ratchet is all there’s going to be.”
“We should have Dispatch run a scan on all other 911 calls around the times of each of these attacks, in all three cities,”Artemis suggested. “If the goal here in Astoria was, as Quanta stated, to keep emergency response occupied, maybe it was the same in the other two attacks – and if it was, perhaps there’s a commonality as to what precisely they were trying to distract us all from.”
It didn’t take long to narrow down the possibilities in the other two cities. Amidst the usual urban cries for help two stuck out as unusual; in San Francisco, a collectible card shop on the Embarcadero was attacked and ransacked, supposedly by action figures come to life; in New Atlantis the Byrne Museum of Fine Art suffered a strange break-in and theft, along with some odd vandalism… in a store room. There was nothing in Astoria that immediately drew the eye, but Dispatch was continuing to collate the information coming in, with Chilz running his own analysis of the raw calls.
“I’ll take Totem,” Artemis said, ”and we’ll check out the New Atlantis museum incident. I suggest Quanta and the Blue Flame go to San Francisco to follow up on the looting of the collectibles shop.”
“I’ve increased my quantum tunneling range significantly in recent days,” Quanta objected. “But I still can’t make the 600+ mile jump from here to the Bay Area without multiple jumps, and I wouldn’t be much use in a fight afterwards, if we happen to run into trouble.”
“Actually, I was thinking you could take the Interceptor,” Artemis replied. “You finished your pilot certification on her two weeks ago, correct? You can be in San Francisco in just over 30 minutes, and back here just as quickly, once you finish your investigation.”
“She’s right, Quanta,” JJ agreed. “You’re ready for a solo flight, and the Interceptor is still on five-minute readiness, after the incident earlier today. While you’re all gone, and Chilz rides herd on Dispatch, I’ll work on the decryption and analysis of the data recovered from our two robots.”
•• •• ••
Artemis and Totem, still in his Bear avatar form, stepped from the deep shadows of the cloak room off the main entry foyer of the Byrne Museum, startling the young coat check girl on duty into near hysterics. Once Artemis had calmed her down and explained their purpose, the girl had very happily handed the heroes off to her boss.
Armando Montpelier, the museum’s assistant director, was a short, plump man with round features and thinning black hair, the latter fact something he tried to disguise with a careful combover. Artemis thought his pencil mustache, combined with his naturally anxious disposition, made him look like a nervous chinchilla.
“Well, of course I’m most gratified to see such an illustrious superhero, er, super heroine, um, that is a hero of your stature take an interest in our little problem, Miss Artemis,” the man twittered, his hands constantly adjusting his navy blue tie or the set of his lapels. “You and your, um hirsute friend here… whom I’m not sure I’ve ever heard… um, that is to say, with whom I am less familiar… um, how can I help?” he finished weakly.
“Just Artemis is fine, Mr. Montpelier,” Artemis assured the man, trying to put him at ease. While she clearly made him nervous, he seemed to find the massive, hairy muscles of Bear to be unnerving… or maybe a bit distracting? “This is my teammate, Bear. Now, if you could show us where the theft and vandalism occurred, we’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
“Oh, Bear… of course he is… um, that is, it’s no problem… I mean it is part of my job. Although its a good thing you arrived today, eh? This being one of the few days we’re open until late…” He glanced at Bear, who grinned at him, revealing his very white, very large teeth… including his especially large incisors. The little man squeaked, turned pink, then pale, and then scurried away, motioning the heroes to follow with a vague wave of his hand. Artemis reached up and whacked her teammate on the back of the head, although she was suppressing a smile.
The befuddled little man led them down a utilitarian hallway off of the main hall, and down a flight of stairs to what was obviously one of several large storage rooms in the basement. Yellow police tape was stretched across the room’s doorway, which caused the assistant director to pause in indecision.
“Oh dear, I hadn’t realized the police had left this, that is to say, I thought they had finished… they didn’t seem terribly interested in the whole affair, I really must say… I mean, I know it’s not the crime of the century or anything, but still… I don’t know, perhaps we should—“
“It’s quite alright, Mr. Montpelier,” Artemis said firmly, cutting off his babbling and ducking under the yellow tape. “We’re just like US Marshals, it’s quite alright for us to enter, I assure you. Now why don’t you tell us what happened… we’ve read the police report, such as it was, and I agree with you, they don’t seem to have been particularly interested in the matter.”
“Yes, well, of course there was that terrible attack across town that day, those giant robots and all. The police did have their hands full with that, and right at the lunch hour, I can hardly blame them… that is to say, our own problem being so minor, you know…” He seemed to feel the need to defend the home team against the implied criticism of outsiders, despite his complaint on the issue just a moment earlier. At Artemis’ raised eyebrow he gulped and hurried on.
“Well, um, it was around noon yesterday, when a motion sensor in this storage area went off. None of the exterior alarms had sounded, but nonetheless our security people checked it out… that’s our protocol, you know, we’re very serious about protecting our priceless art… um, anyway, they found the room just as you see it now… no indication of any person or persons about, no windows or doors opened or tampered with…”
Artemis let the nattering fellow drop from her mind as she stepped into the room, keen eyes noting every detail. The space was about thirty feet by twenty, full of crates, boxes and canvas-wrapped objects of various sizes and shapes. Several paintings, in frames ranging from the Baroque to the minimalist, leaned against two of the walls. About two-thirds of the way down the long wall opposite the door, an empty gilt frame was conspicuous, as was the shattered green pottery scattered around a crate ten feet away. On top of the crate a smaller wooden box seemed to have been torn apart, and straw from its guts lay strewn around.
“The missing picture was a very recent acquisition… arriving late in the afternoon the day before, in fact,” Montpelier explained, his habitual nervousness apparently forgotten as he moved into his area of expertise. “It was not a particularly valuable piece, you understand – a contemporary painting by a moderately-talented American artist, Katelyn Vandros. I believe she works out West somewhere.
“Actually, it’s not the kind of thing the Museum would usually be interested in; but considering the painting’s subject, and the sizable donation that came to the museum along with the painting, the director made an exception.”
“The subject matter?” Bear asked, as Artemis stepped up to the empty frame and began to examine it. “What was so special about the subject matter?”
Montpelier seemed flustered by the hero’s deep baritone, reddening again, but he quickly rallied and cleared his throat before answering. “Well, it was a portrait of the late Roland Reid, the man they called the Magus Prime… oh, but of course you probably knew him, being in the same business, as it, er, were… anyway, with his passing last year, and the fact that he had donated several small but beautiful pieces to the Museum himself over the years… in fact, that’s why we stored the painting in this particular room, since several of Mr. Reid’s donations were already stored here, waiting for the right time to go on display…”
Artemis and Bear looked at one another in surprise.
“What were the pieces he donated?” Artemis asked sharply, making the little man jump. “Are any of them missing?”
“Oh, er, no, no, only the painting was stolen… I did the inventory check myself, I’m quite certain nothing else was taken.”
Artemis frowned, then shrugged. Perhaps it really was just a coincidence that something involving the former Magus Prime should come up so soon after the attack on his Sanctum and the—
“Of course, the jade vase that was destroyed was one of Mr. Reids donations,” the assistant director went on. “But it wasn’t stolen… although I suppose it’s possible they were trying to steal it, and dropped it instead. Such a shame, really, it was an exquisitely beautiful piece, and quite old I’m led to understand.”
Artemis’ expressionless gaze left the little man sweating, and he slumped in visible relief when she returned to her examination of both the frame and the shattered pieces of jade on the floor. Taking several fine tools from a pouch on her utility belt, she extracted small bits of a gray, putty-like substance from both the frame and some of the stone shards. It seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Bear’s powerful olfactory sense noted its distinctive odor amongst the wood fragments of the box that had contained the vase, leading her to several more bits of the substance, but he was no more able to identify it than she.
“Mr. Montpelier,” Artemis turned suddenly back to their host, startling the man afresh. “I notice there is a security camera mounted in the corner there. I assume it’s a functioning device, not just for show?”
“Oh yes, of course it’s working! As I said, we take security here very seriously!”
“Have you looked at the recordings of the time of the theft and vandalism?” Artemis asked patiently. “I assume the police wanted to look at them?”
“Oh, er, well, the officer did mention wanting to look at our recordings, yes… but I’m not sure she ever got around to it… what with the excitement with the giant robots and all, you know. She wasn’t here very long, really… I did ask our security chief to send a copy of it to the police, of course… but I never actually looked at it myself…”
Artemis took a firm grip on her temper, and in a very pleasant voice that made Bear wince, asked “Could we perhaps view that recording now?”
In the museum’s security office, at this hour manned only by the night shift guard, Artemis leaned over the man’s left shoulder as he queued up the recording from the storage room on the day and at the time in question. Bear loomed behind the security man, while Montpelier jittered anxiously to his right, now chewing on a finger nail.
As the surprisingly good quality B&W footage began to play, everything seemed in order. The portrait of Roland Reid was clearly visible, leaning against the wall in the same spot its frame still occupied. Atop a nearby crate the small wooden box containing the jade vase could be seen. Staring at the painting, Artemis couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something about it seemed off somehow…
She actually recognized the painting, as reproductions of it had been used for the last several years on dozens of different bits of Roland Reid memorabilia, from lunch boxes to coffee mugs to commemorative plates. She’d seen plenty of them in the rubble of the Super Museum’s gift shop after the Vanguard had half-destroyed the place in the fight with Omega, but she couldn’t quite figure out what seemed wrong here…
Everything in the video remained uneventful until about ten minutes after the time they knew the Transformers’ attack had begun across town… at 12:11:34 the painting suddenly seemed to convulse, writhing and undulating within its frame. In seconds it tore itself from its housing and slid to the floor. It then began undulating, like an inch worm, making its way at a surprising clip across the floor, the image of the former Magus Prime stretching and distorting in disturbing ways until there was nothing left of it beyond abstract streaks of color on a gray blob.
When it reached the crate upon which the box containing the vase sat, it writhed up the side and then wrapped itself around the smaller box. It contracted suddenly, and when it expanded again, the wooden box was shattered. The jade vase could be seen lying amongst its packing straw, and several pseudopods of what was now a grayish blob reached out to seize the artifact. Holding it up as high as it could, the blob suddenly hurled the vase down onto the floor, shattering it.
Its task apparently complete, the rubbery gray mass oozed back down the other side of the crate and made its way to the far wall, were it climbed up to a small ventilation duct. Forcing it open, the animated putty wiggled into the opening and vanished… a moment later a single pseudopod reappeared, reaching down to pull the vent cover back into place behind it.
“That was… disturbing,” Artemis finally said after it was clear there was nothing more to see on the video, as signaled by the security guards arriving to check out the triggered motion sensor in the room. Bear could only agree, but neither were at all clear on what it all might mean.
“You said the painting was recently donated, and had only arrived the day before,” Artemis turned back to the assistant director. “Who donated the painting? The artist herself?”
Montpelier had become almost queasy watching the tape, and had to take several deep breaths before he could answer. “Oh, um, no, no… it was a man by the name of Clay Ruspéraz who actually donated the piece, and made a sizable financial contribution as well… as I understand it, he’s been very successful in the tech sector. A bit of a recluse, though, I recall all the arrangements were made over the Internet…”
Thanking Assistant Director Montpelier, and getting a copy of the video on a flash drive, the two heroes stepped back into a shadow in the corner of the dimly lit security room and vanished.
•• •• ••
Artemis’ summary report on the investigation came in just as Quanta got permission from San Francisco authorities to set the Interceptor down in a public parking lot between Davis Street and the Embarcadero, directly across the street from their destination. He had to admit, it had been exhilarating flying the high-tech aircraft solo for the first time – as much as his ability to fly under his own power had been improving, he still just preferred the comfort and power of a real plane.
“OK, remember where we parked,” he said to Jonny as they strode down the ramp and onto the streets of San Francisco. He clicked the remote to retract the ramp and set the security systems to active mode… he’d be damned if, on his first time responsible for the team’s transport, he’d let it get stolen by some ambitious street kid.
On Deck Collectibles was in an old two story brick building at the corner of Davis and Broadway, just off the Embarcadero. The original windows had been taken out and expanded so that the front of the store now consisted of three large panes of plate glass and a set of double doors, also glass. The doors were locked, and a “Sorry, Please Call Again” sign hung crookedly from the interior handle of one of them, but the lights were on and a woman could be seen moving around inside. A rap on the glass caught her attention, and once she realized who they were, she hurried to let the two heroes in.
“Oh my, I had no idea my problem would attract out-of-town attention,” she said, once Quanta had explained the purpose of their visit. She was Katelyn Vandros, owner and proprietress of the shop, and none too happy about the events of several days earlier.
“It’s taken me days to even begin to get things back in order,” she sighed, gesturing at the interior of the shop, where various piles of cards, figurines and boxes were still littered about the space. “I’ll be lucky if I can open again by the weekend.”
“Can you tell us exactly what happened here, Ms. Vandros?” Quanta asked. “We read the police report on the hop down here, but it would help us to hear about it first hand, if you don’t mind going over it again.”
“No, I don’t mind, not if there’s a chance of getting some kind of explanation… the whole thing was just so bizarre. It happened just after I opened last Sunday, around 9:15. I already had customers in the store (there was a cruise ship in down at Pier 27, and that’s always good for business), and all of a sudden about thirty of my most expensive collectible action figures suddenly… I know this sounds crazy… but they just came to life! They tore their way out of their packaging and boxes — incidentally totally destroying their value as collectibles; I could just scream — then they leapt off the shelves, and began just rampaging throughout the store.
“They attacked my customers, and even though they couldn’t do any real damage, they freaked people out, and everybody fled, except me. The toys began pulling the rest of my merchandise off the shelves and out of the display cases, piling it all up in one massive heap in the center of the store. I tried to stop them, but they would just gang up on me… even though I didn’t think they could actually kill me or anything, a lot of them did have some pointy bits, and it started to hurt. I was bleeding in a couple of spots when I finally gave up and ran out of the store myself.
“We all stood there on the street, peering through the windows as the little monsters tore my place apart. One thing that I did find strange —“ at the Blue Flame’s surprised look, she shrugged. “Beyond the entire event, I mean. Particularly strange, was the fact that the animated figurines all attacked the Arkanos action figures whenever they had the chance – you had Ultra, the Phenom Four, Dr. Magentík, the Raptor (both classic and modern versions), Red Racer, the Guardian, Sure-shot, Stormfront, Jetstream, and a bunch of others, all ganging up on the Arkanos figures. They’d rip each one limb from limb, crushing them, burning them… and then go back to wrecking my shop.”
“What, no Vanguard action figures?” the Blue Flame asked, looking disappointed.
“Um, no, I’m afraid not,” Vandros said, looking slightly embarrassed and glancing at Quanta for help. He smiled at her as he rolled his eyes and patted his younger teammate on the shoulder.
“We only signed the merchandising deal with NECA six weeks ago, Blue Flame. You do know our action figures aren’t going to be on the market until Labor Day, right?”
“Oh yeah… I sorta spaced on that. I still think we should’ve gone with Hasbro, though!”
“But we didn’t, so it’s not like the poor lady could’ve had anything but bootleg versions, and her shop seems too upscale for that. Now, what happened next, Ms. Vandros?”
“Please, call me Katelyn,” the woman smiled at Quanta’s compliment and gestured for the heroes to follow her. She led them to a small back room where several large refuse containers were lined up near the back door that lead to the alley behind the shop. In one they could see the mangled, dismembered and burned remnants of half a dozen Arkanos dolls… an oddly disturbing sight. In two large bins nearby contained more than a score of superhero collectible dolls all jumbled together.
“After they’d destroyed the last of my Arkanos collectible figures, and completely trashed the store, the surviving animated action figures just… stopped. One minute they were rampaging, the next they just fell over, as inert as you’d expect a toy to be. It took me a few minutes to work up the nerve to go back inside, but when I did – nothing. They were just toys again. Considerably less valuable toys than they’d been an hour earlier, unfortunately.”
“Why don’t you get, like a notary or something,” the Blue Flame offered before Quanta could ask his next question. “Certify that these toys somehow came to life, the rampage, the whole story. I’d think with proper, whataya call it, providence, they ‘d be worth even more than the usual kind.”
Ms. Vandros looked struck by this idea, and Quanta could almost see the wheels beginning to turn. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s called provenance, Blue Flame, and actually that’s a pretty good idea. We’d be happy to provide any declarations of authenticity that might help, Katelyn, but first things first – was anything actually stolen from the shop, or was it all just vandalism?”
“Just vandalism as far as I can tell, so far, although I haven’t been able to get everything reorganized and accounted for. But certainly nothing obvious is missing… I went through all the most valuable items first, and they’re all accounted for. I’m still working my way down the list.”
Quanta picked up a torn-open tarot pack, into which the cards had been hastily re-stuffed. It was one of the very popular Heroes and Villains Tarot decks, where each of the Major Arcana was represented by a real-life superhero or supervillain… Arkanos as the Magician, of course; Ultra as the Emperor, Gaia as the Empress, Dolórükas the Damned as Death, Lilith as the High Priestess… he chuckled at the image of Dr. Mark Sampson as the Fool.
“Am I correct in understanding that you’re the artist who created this deck?” he asked the shop owner, holding up the cards.
“Yes, indeed! I painted all the artwork for my Heroes & Villains Tarot Decks myself,” she said, taking the deck from him and beginning to sort them into their correct order.
“Well, you’re clearly very talented… these are quite good. Did you do these all just from your imagination?”
“Well, most of them were based off news footage and photos, of course, but I did get a few heroes to actually pose for me – the Guardian, for one. He also helped me get my biggest “catch,” Roland Reid himself. I can’t tell you how excited I was to be able to paint the Magus Prime from life for the Magician card! He was very gracious, and patient, and all he asked was that I let him grant the reproduction rights to his favorite charities. He let me keep the original, though.”
“Yes, about that,” Quanta said. “When you sold the original to Clay Ruspéraz, did you actually meet the man? What did he—“
“Wait, what?” the artist looked confused. “Who? I never sold the original painting to anyone.”
Quanta and the Blue Flame looked at one another in surprise, then back at the frowning woman. “Where is the painting, then?” Quanta asked. “May we see it?”
“Of course,” Katelyn replied. “It’s in my secure vault, with my other paintings… I keep them in there because it’s climate controlled.”
“Did you check this vault after the attack?” Blue Flame asked, as she led the way down a short hallway to a very solid looking door with an expensive electronic lock and key pad.
“Well, I did come back here to check, of course… but the door was still locked and sealed. It was obvious nothing had gotten in, and with everything else to worry about, I haven’t actually opened it since…”
Now looking a little worried, she hastily punched in a code and pressed her thumb to the biometric reader. With a hiss, the door seals released and she pulled the heavy door fully open. Stepping in, she gave a cry of dismay, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “It’s gone!”
Nothing else was missing from the room, only the portrait of Arkanos. Despite her obvious distress at the theft, Katelyn quickly realized there was more to tell. “I’m not sure if this is relevant, but… a strange man came in around closing, sometime late last week, asking me about this same painting. He somehow knew that Roland had asked me to mix some weird dust into my pigments in exchange for his posing.
“He did ask to buy the original, but — I mean, the guy was clearly a villain. Big coat, walrus mustache, sunglasses, strangely high-pitched voice, insisted on paying in cash… I told him to bug off because I had a sitting to paint Trevor Sampson that night, and eventually the guy slunk off, thank the Goddess. There was something really off about him, but at the same time… strangely familiar. He creeped me out, to be honest… and he smelled like popcorn, weirdly enough. Do we have a popcorn-themed supervillain in this town?”
Thanking Katelyn Vandros for her help, and promising to both keep her appraised should they find her missing painting and to help with authenticating her malicious toys, the heroes retreated to the Interceptor. As Quanta took off, the Blue Flame got on comms and relayed what they’d learned to the rest of the team.
•• •• ••
Artemis and Totem-Bear had returned to the Pyramid just about the time that Quanta and the Blue Flame were knocking on the door of On Deck. They met Chuck and JJ in the Ready Room to debrief, and it was Chuck who solved one of the mysteries of the museum robbery.
“Hey, that’s Silly Putty,” he said, examining one of the pieces of gray material Artemis had brought back with her. At the others blank looks he went on, ‘“You know, that kids stuff that comes in the plastic egg. You could press it onto a page of the Sunday comics and it would transfer the ink to the putty… then you could stretch and distort the image in fun ways. Well, fun if you’re six, I guess…”
At his words the pieces suddenly all fell into place for Artemis. “Yes, I vaguely recall when that toy was first a thing, back in the ’60s. And that’s why the painting looked somehow wrong to me – it was a reverse image of the original! Clearly this particular “Silly Putty” was magically enhanced, and I still have no idea as to why… but it fits the facts as the video shows them.”
“And now I’m even more sure I know what the Transformer attack here was meant to distract us from,” Chuck said, “given the toy-based theme of the crimes in both New Atlantis and San Fran. The police report got shunted to the low-priority list… it seems the 911 operator didn’t take the story of a school of inflatable toy sharks attacking a houseboat marina too seriously. It took me a while to pull it all together, but it seems pretty obvious now—”
“Where was this attack?” JJ interrupted, bringing up a map of the city in the holoprojector as he tapped quickly on his keyboard.
“The Tidewater Marina.” Chuck fiddled with the cursor at his own station and a red dot popped up on the 3D map, pinpointing the location.
“Interesting… the computer just finished decrypting the information from the “Transformers,” and it defines the area that the robots were meant to keep us, and the police, away from.” A few more key strokes and a red circle popped up on the map, centered in the Columbia River just north of Talon Island. Included within its radius was the red dot indicating the Tidewater Marina. “I don’t think there’s any doubt that this is where we need to focus our attentions next.”
“Maybe,” Chuck said, calling up a series of documents over the floating map. “I just ran a full background check on this Clay Ruspéraz, who donated the stolen painting to the Byrne Museum… the name is a fake, and not a particularly deep one at that. It took me about two minutes to see through it, using our resources; but it was good enough to fool a cursory search by credit agencies, banks, or whatnot.
“As it clearly did, because I also learned that “Mr. Ruspéraz,” whoever he really is, recently bought a bunch of inexpensive properties in cities around the country. Specifically: an old Sinbad’s Palace game arcade in New Atlantis, a defunct children’s theatre called the Fairy Glen in Chicago, a shuttered Toys-R-Us store in Denver, and a gutted building that once served as an elementary school in Oakland. And… an abandoned Chuck E. Cheese restaurant right here in Astoria. And look where that last property is located…”
Another red dot popped up on the map, at the southern end of the Otter Point peninsula – and just inside the radius of the robots’ distraction zone.
“Interesting,” Artemis agreed, “but I think we would be wise to investigate the marina incident first, given the nature of the other two attacks.”
Scion alerted Quanta and the Blue Flame, who were en route back from San Francisco by then, passing on the new information and asking them to meet the rest of the team at the marina. Because it was still daylight, and she’d never before had occasion to visit the marina in question, Artemis travelled with Chilz on his ice slide, while Scion carried Totem-Bear.
It took only a few minutes to reach their destination, and they were still questioning the marina’s security guards when the Interceptor arrived. Setting the autopilot to keep the aircraft hovering over the water, Quanta and the Blue Flame joined the others as they entered the houseboat that had been attacked.
“The security guards said a “flock” of inflatable sharks, in various colors, came in from the west and attacked just this particular houseboat,” Artemis indicated the large, ultra-modern floating residence, made primarily of brushed metal and green-tinted glass which they were approaching. “It belongs to one Julianna Waters, and marina security rushed to help at her cries of distress.”
“How much damage could a bunch of inflatable plastic toys do?” the Blue Flame wondered. “Even if they were sharks, one good poke with a sharp stick… and shouldn’t it be a school of sharks?”
“Actually, it would be a shiver of sharks,” Artemis replied. “And like the other toys in these attacks, they were apparently enhanced — more resistant to damage, and with plastic teeth that, while perhaps not lethal, nonetheless en masse caused painful injuries to those attacked. The guards were driven off, and Ms. Waters has since disappeared… one of the men reports hearing a scream and a splash as they were retreating.”
The houseboat, while luxurious and obviously quite expensive, was not especially large, and it didn’t take long for the Vanguard to search it. One of the more interesting aspects of the place was a small shrine, of sorts, to Roland Reid in the living room. Someone, presumably the sharks, had methodically destroyed the gathered items, with the exception of one card from a tarot deck, showing Arkanos as the Magician laying atop the wreckage. It was from the Katelyn Vandros Heroes and Villains deck, naturally… and the same image from the Byrne Museum.
“Intriguing,” Artemis said, examining the card closely. “Everything else related to the late Magus Prime was destroyed, quite savagely, and yet this card remains unscathed… almost as if someone were examining it while the destruction went on, then placed it atop the pile afterward.”
“Even more intriguing,” said Scion, looking up from the laptop into which he’d hacked, “are Ms. Waters’ emails. They indicate she’s spent much of her time in the last several months tracking down some of Dolórüska the Damned’s personal possessions after his most recent defeat, three years ago at the hands of Arkanos and several other members of the Liberty Alliance. She seems to have been particularly interested in his Golden Helm. It’s only very recently that she seems to have concluded it is in the possession of that nutter we met awhile back – the Gaoler. She’s convinced he “confiscated” the mask, and she’s been contacting him with offers to buy the artifact… six times in the last two weeks. He doesn’t seem to have responded.”
“So, if she hadn’t yet acquired this magical helmet doohickey, why was the woman targeted?” Quanta asked, staring around at all the destroyed Magus Prime memorabilia. “I wouldn’t think just being an Arkanos groupie could justify the expense and trouble…”
“Assuming she’s still alive, I suppose we’ll just have to ask her,” Artemis said. “The guards said they heard a scream and a splash, but I see no sign of a body nearby, and given the configuration of the marina, it is unlikely the river’s current would have taken it. Scion?”
“I’ve run a sensor sweep, I find no bodies within my range. I’m going to take to the air, see what I can spot. Witnesses said the sharks came from the west… perhaps they returned that way as well.”
Once in the air it took him only five minutes to spot what he was looking for. Soaked, bleeding and utterly bedraggled, a tall, slender woman with gray-streaked black hair lay gasping and only semi-conscious on a rocky beach on Egg Island. Summoning his teammates, Scion landed and began administering first aid.
“Can you tell us what happened?” he asked once the woman had revived enough to be coherent, and Chilz had wrapped a blanket he’d brought from her houseboat around her shivering shoulders. “We know about the strange shark attack, but once the security guards were driven off, they lost track of you.”
“Oh dear, yes, those poor men,” Julianna shuddered, her large brown, clearly nearsighted eyes wide in remembered fear. “They aren’t armed you know, the board voted against it… but they tried their best, I’m sure. There were just so many of those horrible things, and they moved so fast, biting and battering.
“Once the guards were gone, and the… and they had finished tearing my home apart, they swarmed around me, pushing and pulling me until we all went over the side in one tangled mass. Thankfully, they couldn’t seem to stay underwater… being air-filled and all, I suppose… or I think they would have quite drowned me!”
“As it was, they nearly did anyway, as they carried me off, out of the marina and down river… if it wasn’t for the Leviathan Band I wore… but then one of them got its teeth into it and pulled it off me. At that point they seemed to loose interest in me, and left me floundering in the middle of the river, while they sped off.”
“The Leviathan Band?” Totem asked sharply. If that was what he thought it was…
“Yes, it’s a minor magical artifact, a belt made from the hide of a water dragon… it is, that is it was, one of my most prized possessions. In fact it once belonged to Roland Reid, the Magus Prime himself,” she added proudly, “before his untimely passing.
“While wearing it I possessed some quite minor aquatic powers… including the ability to hold my breath for quite an unnaturally long period of time. Thankfully I’m a strong swimmer even without it, or else I might not have made it to shore once they took it and abandoned me.”
“Did these animated inflatable sharks appear to possess intelligence, Ms. Waters?” Artemis asked. “You said they ransacked your home, did they seem to be looking for something specifically?”
“Well, the Band, I suppose… not knowing I was wearing it. They didn’t seem particularly bright, especially when they tore apart my, um, tribute to the late Magus Prime. I think it was — that is, they were guided…” she trailed off into an embarrassed silence.
“They were guided by what, Ms. Waters?” Artemis pressed her. “Was there someone else present on your houseboat?”
“You’ll think me quite mad… I hardly want to say… “ It took several moments to reassure the shaking woman that nothing she could say would shock or even particularly surprise the Vanguard before she finally spit it out. “It was a… a giant chicken woman. And she had a banjo!”
“Believe me, we’ve seen stranger things, lady,” the Blue Flame assured her.
“We have,” agreed Totem. “But tell me, Ms. Waters, why have you been so interested in pursuing the whereabouts of such a dangerous magical artifact as the Golden Helm of Dolórükas the Damned.”
“Dangerous, yes,” she sighed, looking down at her feet, a flush rising to her cheeks. “But also, very impressive. You see… well, if you ask my neighbors and my friends in the city’s arts scene, they’d probably describe me as a… a dabbler in the supernatural… and one with more money than talent. I… I just wanted a powerful magic artifact of my own, so others in the magical community would finally take me more seriously… and invite me to events…”
•• •• ••
Once she and Totem had lectured Waters about getting involved in arcane matters over her head, Artemis had shadow-walked the still shocky woman to Dixon Memorial. On her return the Vanguard headed to the obvious destination of the shiver of toy sharks – the abandoned Chuck E. Cheese restaurant purchased by the pseudonymous Clay Ruspéraz, just a block off the water, south of the Otter Point Amusement Park.
Setting the Interceptor down in the empty parking lot of the closed strip mall to which the restaurant was attached, Scion considered their destination. This particular restaurant had gone out of business almost a decade earlier — at least partly due to the slightly creepy nature of the animatronic mouse and his friends, he rather suspected.
Chilz’ search of the public property records had shown that the building was purchased only a few months ago, by their fake Clay Ruspéraz, but nothing seems to have changed as a result. The restaurant appeared locked, but with only average padlocks and chains, which Scion snapped off without any trouble.
Inside, other than the faint light from the street filtering through the filthy windows, the only illumination in the abandoned restaurant came from the stage lights. The odors of ancient pizza and stale popcorn were soaked into every surface and permeated the air. The primary colors of the walls were faded and cracked, but clearly depicted scenes of the titular mouse and his friends cavorting. Overlaying them now, however, were a series of childlike scribblings, done in chalk. Covering much of the walls, it was all the same image: a vague, feminine figure with red eyes, wavy black hair, and rather exaggerated breasts… a child’s attempt to draw a beautiful lady?
As soon as the Vanguard approached the stage area, opposite the main door, a motley collection of decrepit animatronics in the form of anthropomorphic animals began to perform a tinny ragtime tune. The shaggy mouse who seems to “lead” the ragtag band swiveled around with a screech to face them, eyes blinking unevenly, and a childlike voice rattled from its leering grin: “What will the Dark Lady do with you once she has what she wants?”
Everyone tensed, prepared for an attack… but none came. After a moment or two, the mouse posed another question in the childish voice. “Who could have saved you, if not the Dark Lady?” This was followed a minute later by “What does the Dark Lady need?” And so it went — every minute or two, the animatronic Chuck E. Cheese would pose another question, while the “band” played bad ragtime music in the background.
“It’s almost as if someone is using the Socratic Method to figure out… something,” Quanta shook his head in bafflement.
“Perhaps his relationship with this ‘dark lady’ he keeps mentioning,” Artemis offered. “But we can worry about that later. For now, spread out and look for any clues as to what is going on here.”
There was very little furniture left in the restaurant, and the kitchen had been stripped of most of it major appliances, although two pizza ovens had been pulled out, and then left in the middle of the room. In what must have once been the manager’s office the Blue Flame and Totem-Bear found the slashed and charred remains of Vandros‘ original painting of Arkanos.
In the arcade area, Quanta and Chilz found that the prize booth still held many of its old prizes, including Transformers action figures, Silly Putty, Play Doh, inflatable pool sharks, plush versions of the animatronic mascots, clown masks, and little figurines of superheroes and dragons. They all appeared to have been untouched for years, except for the Arkanos figurines – all of these had been broken into pieces, dumped into a pile, and a toy dragon balanced on top of the carnage.
“Very strange,” Quanta observed… and then dove into the ball pit, vanishing beneath a sea of rainbow colored plastic spheres. When he resurfaced a moment later and pulled himself out of the pit, he shrugged at Chilz’ surprised look. “Just searching for a hidden door… you can’t say the possibility doesn’t seem in keeping with the theme. No luck though.”
“Yeah… Quanta, are you ok?” Chilz asked. “You seem a little off your game today…”
“I’m fine, Chilz, but thanks for asking. As I’ve already explained to Artemis, I’m just working through a… personal matter.”
“Is it about Epiphany?”
Quanta looked up from his examination of a dusty Ms. Pacman console in surprise. “Well, yes… am I really that obvious? But yeah, I’ve engaged a legal team to try and get her released, and hired top psychiatrists to ascertain her state of mind.”
“I wasn’t sure you were that serious about her… I mean, beyond her just being very attractive and all,” Chilz looked a little embarrassed, but plowed ahead. “So, how’s it going? Have you talked to her?”
“I am trying to, Chilz… that’s really my main stumbling block at the moment. I just need to know if she feels the same. Artemis has promised to help me get in to talk to her, so…”
“I really had no idea, buddy. She is very cute, but… isn’t she, like… evil?”
Quanta laughed. “Misguided perhaps, but not evil I don’t think. I know that idiot Captain Oblivious had some sort of hold over her — I believe that, combined with the psychosis that can come with the sudden acquisition of super powers caused her to act…irresponsibly.”
Chilz looked dubious, but was prepared to support his friend if he could. “Do you need any help? If there’s anything I can do—“
The conversation was cut short by Artemis calling everyone to join her and Scion near the main stage area, where the one large table left in the place had been overturned and now lay on its side. The team leaders had gathered up a pile of old children’s placemats that had been scattered about, along with dozens of crayons, and had begun to examine the papers. All were covered in scribbled text, written in a childish scrawl in a variety of crayon colors.
“I think I know who we’re dealing with here,” Artemis said as the others examined the pages. “Although I’m not sure how it is possible… Percival Lazarus has been physically incapacitated for years, and I thought he’d died awhile back. Can you run that name, and the nom d’crime Killer Tot, through your Threat Assessment Database, Scion? The information should still be there, at least in the inactive registry.”
“Yes, I found it,” Scion replied after a moment. “Percy Lazarus, aka the Killer Tot. His family founded the Toys-R-Us chain of stores and toy manufacturing back in the late ’40s. Born with a rare medical disorder that stopped his physical growth at an apparent age of around 8-9 years old… indulged by his parents, yet kept secluded, he became obsessed with his toys… after his parents deaths, when he was chronologically 18, he inherited the family business… stayed behind the scenes, given his condition, but was a brilliant toy designer…
“Until he became bored, apparently, and adopted the secret life of an underworld assassin… used his child-like appearance and specially designed lethal toys to kill his targets, taking the code name Killer Tot… eventually lost controlling interest in Toys-R-Us and turned full time to crime… sold clever, even brilliant weapons and advanced technology to anyone who could afford it, while continuing to take contracts as an assassin…
“The second Raptor eventually exposed Killer Tot’s operation, and Percy lost his remaining shares in the family business and much of his wealth… retained his criminal contacts, though, and secret bank accounts hidden around the world… went underground and vanished before he could be incarcerated… became obsessed with a new level of “games,” this time with heroes as his “worthy adversaries.” Sparred with and usually managed to escape most of the big players in the 80s and 90s…
“In his sixties, still looking eight years old, he discovered that his rare medical condition was causing complications that would eventually kill him… apparently applied his considerable intellect and inventiveness to seeking ways of saving his life… even attempted to steal and adapt the engram transfer technology used by the Living Doll and the Eternal Soldier, but it proved useless in his case… he sank deeper into mental illness as his physical condition deteriorated, becoming bedridden and wracked with pain in his final months… died in the spring of this year, alone and pretty much forgotten, it looks like.”
“Is there a reliable confirmation of his death,” Artemis asked. “Did anyone actually see his body?“
“Yes, I’m looking at the autopsy report, and there are plenty of pict—“
Before Scion could finish his sentence the tinny music that had been continuously playing in the background was abruptly drowned out by a screeching voice from the Chuck E. Cheese animatronic. Killer Tot, if that was to whom the voice belonged, seemed to have begun ranting to himself while recording a new batch of his Socratic questions for the character… and now it was playing back. The animatronic mouse wheeled around again, blinking with an audible click.
“What will you do if she betrays— no! No, no no no, NO! I did the whole list! Smashed all his toys! But… there must be one left… one I overlooked. One…” The sound of papers shuffling and a table overturning come from the mouse’s mechanical mouth. “One… he overlooked? One he didn’t make…Yes! But if not him, then who? Certainly not Sabra, that horrible Hebrew harridan is useless! But what other Magusus Prime could still… oh-ho! Yes, it must be that very, very naughty boy! He’s the only one! But he’s all locked up now… yes, so once I destroy his helm, the Dark Lady can become one with the world, at last! Oh yes, yes! But I’m going to need a key…”
With an abrupt ‘snick’ the recording ended.
“Well, at least now we know who we’re dealing with, I guess,” the Blue Flame said. “And I might know where the murderous little rug rat is. Just before you called us over I found a doorway that—“
The main doors to the old restaurant slammed open, the glass cracking in one of them, and an armored figure was silhouetted by the evening sun behind it. It paused for a moment to take in the tableau, then stumbled forward, revealing… the Gaoler! And looking rather the worse for wear.
“Where is that psychotic little shite Lazarus?” he growled, and then stumbled to one knee. By the stage lights they could now see that blood spattered his white armor in several places, and that his helmet was damaged, one bloodshot eye visible behind the cracked visor. He staggered upright again and took another step, but before any of the Vanguard could respond all hell broke loose behind them.
The four anthropomorphic animatronic animals that made up Chuck E. Cheese’s backup band stopped playing and singing mid-note. Leaping from the stage, they all made a bee-line for the wounded Gaoler. The cowboy-dog Jasper T. Jowls attempted to backhand the Blue Flame out of its path, and didn’t even slow down when the hero’s hands erupted into searing plasma and melted its face off. Head a smoking ruin of plastic and metal, eyes grotesquely large in their steel sockets, the creature kept right on going.
Right up until Scion sent a blast of electromagnetic energy into the back of its ruined head, and another into the head of Helen Henny, the anthropomorphic chicken and banjo-playing distaff member of the band. Both automatons seized up, twitching and sputtering before going inert and collapsing to the floor…. which made Artemis’ devastating Shadow Stick attack somewhat superfluous.
“Quanta, I’m pretty sure the others can handle these Disneyland rejects,” the Blue Flame called out to his teammate over the quantum communicator they’d recently devised. Jonny still couldn’t use the team’s standard-issue comm units in his plasma form, but Quanta had found that he could replicate the effect using the quantum field he controlled. “We’ll end this quicker if we can get hold of that Killer Tot psycho, and I think I know where he went.”
Letting the flames fade from his hands, he led Quanta toward the back of the restaurant, where a flickering golden light was seeping under the door of what looked to be a utility closet. It was locked, but a quick blast of heat quickly took care of that, and the door swung open. A glowing portal of yellow light filled the doorway, and without hesitation, the young hero stepped through.
“Blue, wait!” Quanta yelled, reaching out to stop the younger man, but he was too slow. Muttering under his breath “Goddamn it, Jonny, do you ever stop to think things through?” he tried to contact the kid over their unique connection… but there was nothing. He’d better go after him…
“Artemis, Scion — Blue Flame has gone through some weird portal in the back room. God knows what kind of trouble he might be in, so I’m going in after him. I think–” he paused as he realized his standard communicator had gone inert the moment he’d crossed the threshold. He wondered how much of the message his teammates had picked up… and where in the hell was he?
Back in the main room, the purple furry monster called Mr. Munch and the stereotypical Italian pizza chef Pasqually had managed to land a blow or two on the injured Gaoler, who’d given as good as he got. But it was clear that alone, with his injuries, he might’ve been in trouble. Grudgingly realizing he needed the help, he backed off, giving Chilz an opportunity to spread an ice slick under the automatons’ feet. As the two slid and stumbled, gyroscopes attempting to keep them upright, Scion swooped in from behind and once again unleashed dual EMPs into the backs of their heads.
As the robots collapsed, Totem, having released his Bear Avatar, was already kneeling beside the wounded Englishman, who had collapsed himself. Looking up as Scion and Chilz approached, he shook his head, frowning. “He’s badly hurt, and the injuries appear to be at least partially magical in nature. I can ease some of the damage… but it will take time to purge the malign influences infecting the injuries and really begin serious healing.”
“Time is not a… luxury we have right now,” the Gaoler growled, struggling to stand. He was forced to settle for sitting upright, his back against a support pillar. “That murderous little villain has stolen my Master Key… which means he’s gotten into the Cell Block by now.”
“What is he after? And how the hell did a sickly nine-year-old do this to you?” Scion asked, kneeling on the other side of the wounded man. “Especially given that we all thought he was dead—“
“Oh, he’s dead alright,” Gaoler snorted, then coughed wetly. “That’s the bloody problem, init? I don’t know how, or who’s responsible, but the little git survived his own death… >hack< … seems he’s now a disembodied spirt…that possesses toys, somehow… and he’s more than half cracked… not that he was ever sane, mind you…
“As for what he wants…>hack, hack< It’s the bloody Helm of Dolórüska the Damned… which I’ve had safely locked away… in another dimension… to ensure that evil bastard never threatens the world again… why Lazarus wants it… I’ve no idea…”
“Another dimension?” Totem asked. “You mean that pocket dimension you call the Cell Block? You said he stole your Master Key — does that mean he controls that dimension now?””
“Ha! Hardly… the little shite may have stolen my Key, but I remain… the master of that place… the Key will give him access… but there are other failsafes, other wards… the bastard won’t find it… as easy as he thinks… and when I catch up with him…”
“He’ll take you out with a Barbie Doll,” Scion said, then paused for a moment. “Artemis has just informed me she’s found a dimensional portal in back — presumably the one Killer Tot opened to your prison dimension with your Key. Two of our teammates have already gone through, she’s following, and we need to join them. I need you—”
“Fine, hero, I admit it… I can use the help,” Gaoler snarled. He struggled to pull himself up. “Give me a hand, I’ll show you the way…” With a grunt he collapsed back to the floor. “Damnit!”
“You’re in no shape to go anywhere,” Totem said. “I’ve done what I can here, but you need to be in a hospital. Dispatch is already sending an ambulance, there’s no point in arguing about it. Now, tell us what you can about this private prison dimension of yours before we go in… how do we find Killer Tot and the Golden Helm?”
“Urrrrgh… damn you, shaman… but you’re right… very well, go. I can’t tell you exactly how… to find the little bastard… the Cell Block is a place of… non-Euclidean geometries… but find Shak, and he will help you… tell him I sent you… here, you’ll need this…”
He pulled a small cube of intricate gold filigree from a pouch on his belt and held it out to Scion. “This is a… Box of the Giliead… a powerful artifact, which can imprison any possessing spirit or soul… I retrieved it from a safe house… before coming here… just touch it to whatever object our little Percy is inhabiting… for just a few seconds… and he will be sucked into it… well and truly trapped…”
“Thank you,” Scion said, tucking the small artifact away at his own waist. “But who is this Shak you mentioned, and how will we know him?”
The Gaoler laughed, then drew in sharp breath at the pain. “There’s no mistaking him… he’s the living ghost of an ancient Rakshasa… a gigantic… Hindu… demon…” With that, he passed out, slumping back, and Totem laid him gently out on the floor.
Sirens could be heard rapidly approaching as the three remaining Vanguard stood up. “Do we wait for the police and the paramedics?” Chilz asked, glancing uncertainly toward the door to the back rooms.
“No, I have a bad feeling that time isn’t on our side,” Scion said. “There’s no telling what the others are facing, and we need to rejoin them quickly.”
•• •• ••
On stepping through the glowing portal, the Blue Flame found himself in a vast rectangular chamber of stark, unfinished concrete — walls, floor, and probably ceiling. Although the latter was so high, and obscured by panels of glowing white light (were those fluorescents? he wondered), that it was hard to be certain. Directly in front of him across the narrow axis of the room, perhaps 20 meters away, was a tall, very wide, immensely strong-looking set of black iron doors. To his right and left, and the far ends of the chamber, smaller but equally strong-looking doors could be seen.
Turning, he saw not another door, but a rectangle of glowing light set into the raw concrete wall. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to have just jumped through, and he should — before he could finish the thought Quanta was stepping through the portal.
“—in the back room. God knows what kind of trouble he might be in, so I’m going in after him. I think–” Quanta stopped speaking, and stared at his teammate in exasperation. “Well, Blue, whatever that doorway of yours is, it seems to block all communications. We’re on our own for the moment.”
“Um, yeah, sorry… I didn’t quite think this through,” the Blue Flame admitted. “I figured maybe we’d find the bad guy right here, and we could wrap it up quick… I guess we should go back through, wait for the others—“
“No one leaves the Cells of Solitude until their time of penance is done, little prisoners,” a voice like the roar of a mighty wind through the trees said from behind them. “You are no exceptions.”
The heroes whirled to see a monstrous figure stooping through the doorway at the far end of the chamber, on their left. Straightening up as it passed through the door, it stood five meters tall, its massive, feathered wings arching even higher over its head to almost brush the ceiling lights. It was blue-skinned, impressively muscled, with four arms, three of which wielded immense scimitars. Its legs were shaped like those of a great cat, its face a fearsome mask of glaring, red rimmed eyes and a snarling mouth, dominated by two tusks curving up from the top row of razor sharp teeth.
The creature was clothed in only a blue and gold loincloth, but was bedecked in golden chains and bracers, with a golden torc across its shoulders, all clearly Hindu in style. Its head was covered in a thick mane of jet black hair, bound by gold into four lengths, and crowned with a circlet of golden skulls. And the whole terrifying apparition was translucent, glowing with a faint blue light, the walls of the room dimly visible through its form as it stalked slowly towards the heroes.
The Blue Flame burst into his plasma form and shot up halfway to the ceiling, while Quanta took an involuntary step backwards.
“Return now to your cells, prisoners, and you need not suffer my wrath,” the creature’s deep bass reverberated across the chamber. “But defy me further, and you will be—“
The creature cut himself off and stopped suddenly as Artemis appeared through the glowing portal. She had caught his last words, and held up her empty hands, and then bowed deeply.
“We are not prisoners here, rakshasa, but rather we have come with the blessing of the maser of this place, to stop another who has trespassed and would steal away a prisoner himself.”
“Ah, is it so? Yes, I perceive you, at least, have come from the World That Lays Beyond, and are no prisoner… indeed, you are far more than these others, and you recognize me for what I am… or once was. Do you then vouch for them?”
“Hey, we don’t need anyone to vouch for us,” the Blue Flame said hotly. “And Artemis may be pretty cool and all, but I wouldn’t say she’s that much better than us… I mean, I can turn into living plasma, that’s gotta count for something!”
The rakshasa looked momentarily taken aback, and then it threw back its head and roared with laughter. “Indeed, little avatar of the blue flame, you are right. And I sense no evil intent, no guilt within you… nor in the silvery one. You do not belong here, and are not my charges. But are you then of these new protector spirits that I have heard have come recently into the World Beyond?”
“Well, I’m not sure about spirits or anything,” the Blue Flame began, a little taken aback himself by the monster’s laughter and sudden mood shift. “But I guess—“
At that moment the rest of the Vanguard stepped through the glowing portal, coming to a shocked stop at the sight of the enormous blue entity looming over their friends. They quickly recovered, however, and Scion stepped forward beside Artemis.
“Are you Shak?” he asked. “We were told by the Gaoler to seek your help in stopping the invader who has stolen his Master Key and is trying to steal a proscribed object from the Secure Vault.”
The ghostly demon looked suddenly less amused, but it also lowered the last of its giant scimitars, sheathing it with the others. “Yes, there can be no doubt you come with the blessing of the one who desecrates my name so,” he sighed, a surprisingly human sound, despite his deep bass. “The fool may be the mortal master of this domain, for now, but he is impatient, ever in too much of a hurry to use my proper title — Aatmoan-ka-Sanrakshak. In your language… Guardian of Souls.”
“You said title,” Artemis noted. “What is your name, then? Would you prefer we use that instead?”
“Ah, it would give me great pleasure, immortal one, but alas, it cannot be. I have been here so long that even I have forgotten my true name, if ever I had one. No, for ages uncounted I have been only what I do, Aatmoan-ka-Sanrakshak. And I have kept faith, even beyond death and memory, to hold the Cells of Solitude inviolate, whatever mortal may control them for a mayfly’s life… and there have been so many…
“But tell me, why has the current mortal master of the Cells granted you access to this realm, and why is he not here with you? It is his responsibility, not just his convenience.”
The Vanguard filled the rakshasa in as succinctly as possible on recent events, and on the dire physical condition of the Gaoler at the moment. He in turn confirmed that someone had entered the Cell Block — he visibly winced at using the Gaoler’s name for the ancient dimension — and had set free many of the prisoners therein.
“They are freed from their cells, and now they seek to escape from this dimension. But that is not so easily done. Although this open door would do the trick.” He reached down and past the Vanguard to touch a blue finger to the glowing portal in the wall behind them. It vanished without a sound, leaving only dark gray concrete.
“Worry not, when you have captured this “Killer Tot” and recovered the Master Key, you will be able to leave this place at will. In the meantime, I must be about the task of getting my prisoners back into their cells… which will help you in turn, as otherwise it would be a gauntlet of never-ending battle between here and the Secure Vault.”
“Can you direct us to the Vault,” Totem asked. “And can you tell us how to open it, assuming we find it still locked?”
“I can guide you, Avatar-host,” the phantom demon said, smiling… a terrifying sight, given its visage, and the tusks. He touched a claw-tipped finger to Totem’s forehead, and a glowing blue line appeared in his second sight. “Follow that, and it will lead you to where you need to be. But I cannot both clear your path and open the Vault. Chose which you more desire.”
“I think time is running out,” Scion said. “Please, clear the path, we can figure out the Vault if we must.”
The rakshasa nodded, and turned to gesture at the massive iron doors behind him. With a groan of metal-on-metal the leaves swung open revealing a wide corridor beyond — more raw concrete and fluorescent lights vanishing into the distance. The blue line in Totem’s mind’s eye lay straight down the center of the passage.
With a salute, the ghost of the giant Hindu demon turned and himself quickly vanished through the door he had entered by. The Vanguard stepped through the larger doorway and into the Cell Block proper, the great doors grinding shut behind them with an ominous finality.
Proceeding down the wide, tall, seemingly endless hallway, the Vanguard passed many smaller side corridors, appearing at seemingly-random intervals, each of which seemed to go on into infinity as well. Occasionally they heard distant shouts, screams, and roars coming from some of the side corridors, but they saw no one until Totem turned left down one particular side passage.
The new corridor, although narrower than the main way, was equally as tall, about two stories, and after a time cells began appearing to either side, each offset so that any occupant of one could not see into any other. Metal stairs on both sides led up to a narrow catwalk and a second tier of cells. Many cells were empty, but some contained prisoners — obviously, Killer Tot hadn’t released all the inmates.
Of the prisoners they saw, most were human, dressed in clothes from a variety of times and cultures; but a few were decidedly not human — there were beings of myth and legend and some entirely unfamiliar. Most seemed listless and resigned, and even the few who reached through the bars and begged for release seemed to do so without any real hope.
Following the blue line only he could see, as it twisted and turned through the labyrinthine maze of identical concrete corridors, Totem led his teammates onward without serious incident — until they reached the intersection of another wide corridor. Stepping out from the side passage they’d been traversing, Totem and Artemis almost ran into two figures they immediately recognized.
Born Loser and Cueball of the Devil’s Advocates appeared to be searching for a way out, and they visibly brightened at seeing the heroes who had last defeated them. “Hell’s bells, it must be Christmas,” Cueball laughed, his infernal axe materializing in his hand. “First that crazy puppet lets us out of those damn cells, and now we get to beat down on the bitches who put us–“
He never finished the sentence, as Artemis’ Shadow Whip lashed out, wrapping around his neck and pulling him to his knees. At the same time Totem entwined Born Loser in the glowing strands of his own Winding Whip spell, before the Avatar of Starvation could unleash his power.
Before either villain could struggle free, Quanta let loose a blast of bucky balls, taking Born Loser in the head and then ricocheting off to hit Cue Ball full in the face. Both men collapsed to the floor, bleeding and unconscious.
“I guess the big guy missed these two,” Chilz said as he encased the Devil’s Advocates in bands of ice. “So what do we do with them now? We don’t need them coming up behind us down the road.”
“Indeed not,” Artemis agreed. “There were numerous empty cells in the corridor we just exited. I suggest we deposit them there, at least for now.”
Once that was done the Vanguard resumed their trek through the seemingly endless corridors of the Cell Block, increasingly wary and on the lookout for more escaped prisoners. But they saw no one else until they reached what an etched steel plaque indicated was the Central Tiers.
The immense iron doors into the Central Tiers were partially open, and the heroes stepped cautiously through, into a circular chamber more than 30 meters across — and of an unguessable, dizzying height. Iron mesh catwalks, circled the room at each tier, connected by metal stairs, cells lining the walls, in ring after ring until they vanished into a bright haze.
A cacophony of voices, in a score or more of languages, echoed in the vast space as prisoners stood at their bars and shouted, laughed, raged… and here the Vanguard recognized many of the faces behind the bars. Criminals and villains from their own time and place, several of whom they themselves had fought — and had thought incarcerated on Earth in more mundane circumstances.
Totem, at least, also recognized the dozen or so unconscious bodies scattered around the chamber’s floor in bloody heaps — most of them grotesque giants in kilts and leather harness, and one very handsome, muscular, normal-sized man with flaming red hair.
“I thought Tethra the Charming and his Fomorian warriors had been taken into SHADE custody after Sabra, Guardian and I, with some help from Prometheus and Phantom Ace, stopped their assault on the Alliance’s New Atlantis embassy last year,” Totem said, prodding the mythological Irish sorcerer with a toe. “How in the name of the Seven Great Beasts did the Gaoler manage to get them here?”
“I was wondering the same about some of the other prisoners here,” Artemis said, staring up at the ranks of cells above them. “It’s something we’ll have to look into once we’re back home.”
“Yes, but not something to worry about now,” Scion added. “Totem, where does your guide line lead next?”
“Out the opposite doors,” the shaman replied, and Chilz pushed the heavy leaves slowly open, just wide enough for the team to pass through. Leaving the echoing shouts of the inverted Tower of Babel behind, the Vanguard continued on through the maze of corridors.
Quanta moved up to walk beside Totem, and after a moment of companionable silence, he broached something that had been on his mind for awhile. “Totem, I’ve been thinking about all of the stuff that’s gone down recently, and I can’t help but wonder… I know she’s a friend of yours, but have you considered that Sabra herself may be the one behind all this?”
Totem looked at his teammate in surprise. “No, not really, Quanta. Sabra is one of the kindest, most noble people I’ve ever met. In fact, those qualities are the reason she’s in the position she is now, forced to try and govern almost a thousand corrupted worlds, so that the billions of people living in them don’t perish. And why she is working hard to rehabilitate those worlds, so that they can all live again on their own.”
“But that’s just my point,” Quanta persisted. “A thousand worlds corrupted by evil, whatever exactly that really means, and one lone woman against that. However good her intentions, however strong her will, do you not think there’s a chance the corruption is infecting her, rather than her clearing out the corruption?”
“Certainly it’s a possibility,” Totem acknowledged. “One that she and I discussed in the brief time between the death of Varina and Sabra’s voluntary exile to the Dark World. And certainly I’ve seen changes in her over her time there… but nothing like what you’re suggesting. We also placed a number of wards around her mind and soul that should prevent exactly what you suggest.”
“She seemed awfully peeved when we didn’t hand over the Kurundan Bloodstone to her,” Quanta said. “And less than a week later the stone is stolen from one of most security-conscious people on Earth. Mudslide escapes with the fourth of the Prime Element gems still inside him… and not long after he’s found depowered and comatose, the gem missing. I’m just saying it’s suggestive…”
“Suggestive, maybe, but hardly conclusive. There’s been a rising tide of dark magic all across Earth in recent months, and any number of parties could be responsible for those crimes. Not to mention the fact that Sabra cannot return to Earth without risking the destruction of the Dark World… how exactly would she have pulled off these thefts?”
“Well, that’s what minions are for… Killer Tot, for example, is clearly working for someone, someone powerful enough to keep his consciousness around even after his death. Someone who can’t enter this world until… well, some sort of conditions are met. And then there are his references to a Dark Lady, and those drawings on the walls… could be Sabra.”
Totem snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh please! Percy Lazarus is hardly a Rembrandt, and those scribblings could be of anyone. Besides, Sabra doesn’t have red eyes…” He looked suddenly thoughtful, and he frowned at his friend. “But as I recall, Varina did have red eyes… a red so dark they looked black, until the light caught them just right. And her most common title, the one she preferred above all others, was the Dark Lady…”
“Hmmmm,” Quanta looked thoughtful himself. “Are you sure this Varina is really dead? I know you saw her body crumble to dust after Sabra gutted her, but… maybe she possessed your friend?”
“No, I not only saw, but felt her death. And belief me, possession or mind-transference was the first thing we all thought of in the aftermath. But both Guardian and I probed deep into Atara’s mind and found not a hint of possession or another mind. But as precaution, I actually had Nimrod run scans on her — if anyone could detect such a thing it would be him. He cleared her as well.
“So no, I don’t think Sabra is possessed by Varina… but I do wonder… is there some other way she could have survived, a way we’ve overlooked. I admit, I find the fact that the Powers That Be haven’t yet settled the mantle on a new Magus Prime is worrying… although there have been decades-long gaps in the past, they are rare. Any break in continuity tends to wreak havoc with the balance of Earth’s arcane power, as we’ve been seeing recently.
“Still, this has only been 18 months so far… I’m going to have to think about this…”
Quanta shrugged and let the matter drop, for now. Another ten minutes of traversing corridors brought the Vanguard to the antechamber of the Secure Vault, and more pressing issues.
The antechamber was a modest room, but no more pleasantly decorated than anywhere else in the Gaoler’s Cell Block dimension. Given that it was a place that reflected the mind and desires of its mortal master, Chilz thought, all the raw concrete and rebar didn’t say much about Thomas Delosano’s aesthetic taste.
The central feature, indeed the only feature, of the antechamber was the massive, ancient-looking door of iron and steel, somewhat incongruously augmented by high-tech elements, to the Secure Vault itself. Prominent in the center of the great door were three lock mechanisms, each one decorated with engraved images of either flames, blades, or skulls.
“Do you think we beat Killer Tot here?” the Blue Flame asked hopefully from the hallway as Scion, Totem and Quanta stepped forward into the room to examine the door and its locks.
“Possibly,” Artemis said. “But since he possesses the Master Key, which I’m sure unlocks this door as well, it could well be that he is already inside.”
After a deep examination of the door and its locks, Scion was certain that all three mechanisms needed to be operated at more-or-less the same time. “There may be a five second window of wiggle room, certainly no more than ten. They seem to be some sort of icon-based tumbler locks…”
Feeling the press of time, the three heroes had the others remain in the hallway and pull the antechamber doors shut. Just in case the hypothesized death traps were triggered. But in the event, Scion and his tactical computer had little trouble deciphering the Flame Lock, and Totem’s mystical senses revealed the secret of the Blade Lock almost as quickly.
Quanta had been certain he had the pattern of the Skull Lock as well, but when they all worked the locks at the same moment, he realized he’d been wrong. As the other two locks clicked open, their engraved icons glowing green, his own remained closed — and began pulsing an ominous red.
“Quanta, I thought you had this,” Scion said, glancing around the room for any sign of traps preparing to spring.
“You’re not helping, John,” Quanta muttered, focusing intently on the mechanism. He’d been sure it had been a variation of the Fibonacci sequence… damn, Delosano hadn’t started the sequence from 0 and 1… the pulsing of the red icon was speeding up… so, did he start it from 1 and 1 or from 1 and 2… how did that paranoid’s mind work? Right, try 1 and 2…
Just as the flashing icon went solid red, the lock clicked… and tumbled open. The icon turned from red to green, and with a hiss the massive door swung open. The rest of the team poured into the antechamber as Scion pulled the heavy vault door all the way open…
Unlike the plain concrete of the rest of the Cell Block, the Secure Vault seems to harken back to an older version of the dimension — it was an unadorned room of medieval-looking gray blocks of stone, roughly 20 meters wide and 40 meters long. Its buttressed ceiling extended about 15 meters overhead, and its walls were lined with alcoves in a bewildering variety of sizes. Each niche held one of an amazing array of relics, artifacts, and other dangerous-looking objects—many of them confiscated from imprisoned supervillains, but some of them clearly predated the Gaoler’s supervision.
The smallest item that Chilz noticed in that first, brief look, was a fleck of gleaming dust in a hole barely large enough to fit a finger, while the largest was in a huge alcove on the far wall — a massive statue carved of orange-red stone, portraying a seated demon with huge gemstone eyes, holding a flaming brazier… it looked strangely familiar.
But what riveted everyone’s attention was the tableau about two-thirds of the way down the long left wall. Standing before one alcove was a ventriloquist’s puppet — sans ventriloquist — with arms raised, grasping at a golden, skull-shaped helmet/mask. Intricately incised with arcane symbols, the mask was jerking and twisting, as though fighting against the puppet’s grasp.
But as the Vanguard stepped into the Vault, the puppet’s attention shifted for just an instant from the mask to the heroes. The mask, no longer the complete focus of the puppet’s attention, tore itself from its grasp, snapped up toward the ceiling, and vanished in a burst of red light and a tremendous crack that shook the room.
The puppet howled in fury then, and turned on the interlopers. “You spoiled it! My newest toy—gone! Why are you awful heroes always ruining my games!? I hate you! I hate you all!”
It was at that point that the Vanguard noticed a variety of toys scattered about the chamber — several Transformer action figures, a horde of little green army men, and two massive blobs of Play Doh, one pink and one blue. As one, the animated toys moved to attack the intruding heroes.
Ignoring the mass of toys, Chilz rose up on an ice slide to glide toward the far end of the Vault. Something about that immense demonic statue was setting off all his mental alarms. As he neared it, he gestured and invisible waves of elemental energy flowed out from him. A thick, translucent wall of ice began to form, and in seconds he had completely sealed off that end of the room — and the unnerving statue.
Scion, taking to the air himself when a platoon of green army men attempt to swamp him, simultaneously electrified his armor, turning the swarm into inert lumps of melted plastic, and blasted out most of the overhead light panels, creating more shadows for Artemis. He then went invisible…
Removal of the lights proved an opportune move as, a moment later, the blue Play-Doh attempted to engulf Artemis. But as it loomed over her, its bulk cast her into shadow from one of the few remaining lights. She vanished as it collapsed onto empty air… to appear elsewhere, and begin stomping a bunch of plastic army men into mush.
The Blue Flame’s plasma blast incinerated several of the Transformer figures, while Totem’s own mystic blasts destroyed another that was trying to get a firing lock for its tiny missiles on the suddenly-invisible Scion.
Quanta focused on the small ventriloquist’s puppet, which continued to rant and rave in a high-pitched, childlike voice about the unfairness of it all. He had noticed that a glowing golden key swung on a chin around the toy’s neck — no doubt the Master Key itself. Something they should get their hands on quickly, he rather thought, to prevent the murderous little thing from escaping once it realized his toy army was getting the shit stomped out of it.
When two more Ratchet and Bumblebee Transformers and the blob of pink Play Doh moved into close proximity to Killer Tot, Quanta took his shot. The block of quantum matter crushed the two Transformers into flinders, and smooshed the Play Doh flat… But the puppet managed to dodge the attack, rolling away in mid-tirade.
Within seconds the pink Play Doh began to ooze back into shape, as the block above it dissolved back into the quantum foam whence it came. But as it turned to engulf Quanta, Chilz glided up behind it and hit with a Polar Vortex blast, freezing the blob solid. One hard kick from the hero and the mass shattered into hundreds of pink shards.
“No! You’re bad, bad heroes!” the furious puppet shrieked, resuming its verbal assault as it jerked back to its feet. “The Helm was the last lock! Now I’ll have to find it again, and it’s all your fault the Dark Lady has to wait, all alone—“
Its rant cut off suddenly as Totem’s Winding Whip spell ensnared the enraged toy, binding it in bands of violet light. With a strangled “urk” the puppet went limp, all animation draining out of it. Scion landed next to the collapsed form, pulling the Box of the Giliead from his belt compartment, as Totem released the spell.
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Totem said, picking up the now inert toy. “I think he’s abandoned this form. He must be in one of the other toys…”
But the few remaining toys not yet destroyed by the Vanguard had collapsed at the same moment as Killer Tot had. While the heroes looked about the room, trying to find a missed toy, a shrieking laugh suddenly filled the air, echoing in the huge stone chamber. The ground began to rumble ominously, and Chilz turned with a dread certainty to stare at his ice barrier at the end of the room.
Distorted by the translucent ice, the gleam of red light that had began to grow in the jeweled eyes of the massive demonic statue was nonetheless visible. With a tremendous grinding of stone on stone, the blurred shape of the statue shifted, slowly climbing to its feet. Chilz rush forward to strengthen his wall, but even as he began to move, the demonic figure hurled its bronze bowl into the ice wall.
The force of the blow not only shattered the wall, but sent Chilz flying backwards. Momentarily staggered, but uninjured, he climbed back to his feet as the now-animated statue stepped over the remains of his ice wall. Its form wavered and shifted, features blurring from demonic to adorable as it reshaped itself into an enormous stone… teddy bear!
“Break my toys, will you?” Killer Tots now-familiar childish voice came from the giant stone bear as it lumbered forward. “Well, let’s see how you like it when I break you!”
Totem once again cast the Winding Whip spell on the Titanic Teddy, but the violet strands merely snapped and disintegrated into sparks, to no effect.
Quanta unleashed a powerful quantum matter blast on the creature, which caused it to pause only for a moment. With a snarl it’s previously cute face became a mask of rage, and it moved forward again, arms reaching out…
Artemis dropped from the shadows of the ceiling onto the bear’s back, using her Shadow Whip to gain a hold around its neck. She had no hope of overpowering the huge thing, of course, but if she could distract Killer Tot’s attention, Scion might get in close enough to use the Box of the Giliead —
The Titanic Teddy shook her off in a single violent shrug, sending her flying into Scion just as he was coming around, the Box in hand. He was s barely able to keep a grip on both it and Artemis, as they tumbled back and away from the monstrous creature.
As Artemis dropped to the floor from Scion’s arms, Chilz created a sheet of ice beneath the stone giant’s feet… with its next step it staggered, arms wheeling as it to tried to right itself, the look on its face suddenly comical. With a thud that shook the room, the stone teddy bear crashed onto its back, limbs waving like an overturned turtle.
As it struggled to right itself, Totem again cast the Winding Whip spell, binding the Titanic Teddy only momentarily before it again burst the mystic bonds. But they held the creature long enough for Quanta to encase it in a thick shell of quantum matter. Caught halfway to its feet, it was unable to defend itself as Scion dove in once more with the Box of the Giliead.
Slapping the small filigreed box to the back of the stone bear’s head, Scion held the artifact in place for a count of five… and in a prismatic swirl of light, with a despairing wail, the spirit of Percy Lazarus was sucked into the inescapable mystical prison.
In the profound silence that followed Percy Lazarus’ final cry, the Vanguard stared at one another, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it became obvious that the fight was well and truly over, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“So, what do with do with the magically imprisoned spirit of a homicidal maniac that thinks it’s still nine years old?” The Blue Flame asked, breaking the silence.
“I’d say leave him here on one of these shelves,” Quanta shrugged. “With a proper warning placard, of course. Although, if the Gaoler’s idea of a secure vault is one that can be beaten with such a distractedly mild effort…”
“Mild effort?” Scion laughed. “Please, it took three of the sharpest minds around, with a unique set of balanced skills — technology, magic and mathematics — to defeat the locks. And even then it was a nerve-wrackingly close call!”
“Oh, nonsense,” Quanta waved away his fumble with the last lock. “It was all for drama, I assure you. You know, how in the movies the countdown on the bomb always stops at “1.”
That got a laugh from everyone, even Artemis. But after a moment she pulled them all back to the serious business at hand. “Unfortunately,” she sighed, “while we kept it from Killer Tot, and whomever he was fronting for, the Golden Helm is now back in the world. That seems like something we’re going to need to pursue once we return home. And speaking of home…”
Crouching down to pull the glowing Master Key from around the neck of the inert ventriloquist’s dummy, Artemis held it up and watched it swing, pendulum-like, from her finger.
“This will get us there, but once it does, we’ll need to resolve what to —“
At that moment the rakshasa Aatmoan-ka-Sanrakshak stepped through the doorway from the Vault’s antechamber. Its hideous, translucent face was split in a wide grin, and it bowed in the Vanguard’s direction.
“Well done, champions, well done. I have secured the residue of prisoners loosed by our little interloper, and the Cells of Solitude are secure once more. I see you have captured in the Box of the Giliead the wayward animus responsible for this intrusion – how came you by such a puissant artifact, and one so apropos to this encounter?”
“The Gaoler gifted it to us, when he realized he was too injured to bring the fight back here,” Scion said. He was somewhat distracted – the readings he was getting of the Box were so very odd…
“Ah, of course… I should have recognized it. T’was I, after all, who pointed it out to him, shortly after he gained dominion over this place. And I see you have recovered his Master Key… will you return his treasure to the Gaoler, now that the villain is defeated and his realm again secured?”
“That… is a complicated question,” Artemis said, eyeing the artifact dubiously. “The man is clearly not sane, and remains a potential danger. I’m not sure he should have such power…”
“And yet, he’s not entirely wrong about the difficulty of holding some of the more powerful meta-humans, aliens and monsters we fight,” Chilz suggested. “Is it really a bad idea to have a way to remove them from Earth without, you know, actually killing them?”
“Who is he — or we, for that matter — to decide who gets tossed away without any due process?” Quanta asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “We’re representatives of the law, not vigilantes… and I for one don’t want that responsibility, even if you do!”
“Hey! I never said—“
“You both have a point,” Artemis interrupted. Turning to the ghostly rakshasa, she held out the Master Key. “Aatmoan-ka-Sanrakshak, will you not take this, and with it control of this dimension? Clearly you have been here for a very long time and have… an affinity for it. What better guardian than you for—“
“No, immortal one, I cannot,” the creature said, somehow managing to give the impression of a heavy sigh without actually breathing… or possessing functioning lungs. “I have indeed been here long… far longer than even one such as you could hope to fathom… so long, indeed, that I have forgotten a time before this place… and I am already its true guardian, whatever mortal may shape its current form.
“As I said earlier, the Gaoler is master of this place by right of ancient law. He made his Master Key and discovered his own way into this realm, and tamed it to his will — hence these ugly halls and chambers, those horrible lights… not a stone grotesque nor carved decoration in sight, no flickering torches or warm lanterns — but the Key is not what gives him control — it is his will, alone and only, that is the true key. Return his Master Key or not, he remains the mortal master of this realm, as I remain its eternal guardian; he will return, even if he must forge a new Key to do so.”
On that somewhat ambiguous note, Totem took the Master Key from Artemis and prepared to use it to summon a portal back to Earth. As he worked on it, Chilz approached the ghostly rakshasa, and motioned for him to lean down… it wasn’t often he met someone who dwarfed him the way he did most normal humans.
“Listen sorry about that big statue,” he said, gesturing at where the former stone teddy bear had reverted to its demonic form — but still in the crouched position in which Killer Tot’s possessing spirit had left it. It’s bronze bowl lay in two pieces near the vault door. “It wasn’t really our fault, but still…”
“Have no worries, Jötunn, the Statue of Trampier will eventually reassert it’s usual appearance… it is a very difficult artifact to destroy. Which is why it resides here, after all.”
Before Chilz could continue the conversation, Scion was calling him over to the alcove where the statue had previously stood, and were Totem now had a glowing portal in place. “Come on Chilz, it’s time to go home!”