"Embarrassed," I murmured
to myself, and it was certainly true, "she realized the wardrobe
malfunction and quickly changed into something more suitable to the time and
place she now occupied." Now I wore a sort of business-casual outfit,
being jeans, boots, a blouse, a vest, and a leather blazer. I smiled; this was
more like it. I decided to wander around and try to find out more about this
place, and what could be so unique about it. I stepped into a coffee shop; it
looked normal enough. I was nearing the counter, ready to order, when I
realized one small hitch: I did not have a purse. Of course, I knew the remedy
for this already. Under my breath, I whispered, "Going inside, she bought
a coffee."
Instantly, I held a steaming cup in
my hand, a coordinating purse hung from my shoulder—and no one in the building
knew anything out of the ordinary! I calmly walked out of the coffee shop and,
spying a newsstand on the curb in front of me, I went over to get a feel for my
setting.
Nothing in my previous adventures
prepared me for what I read, but then, it came as no surprise, either.
PHANTASMIC CITY SAVED AGAIN!
GERONIMO AND STORMGALE HONORED IN PUBLIC CEREMONY!
I seized the paper and gawked at
the photograph. If you took Captain Stormy and Sheriff Jerry and dressed them
in spandex uniforms, they would verily look exactly like the two people I saw
in the photo. They stood proudly amid the rubble of some great battle, hardly a
stain on the brightly-colored costumes they wore.
Superheroes! I couldn't believe it!
Apparently some underworld overlord had tried to take over the city, and these
two had stopped them, Geronimo because he was impervious and thus unstoppable,
and Stormgale with her control of the elements. I wondered who their
arch-nemesis was, or if the arch-nemesis existed at this point in the
narrative.
I kept walking through the city. It
looked just like a city in the real world. There were grungy hobos begging on
the curb, there were the powerful executives trying to find the subway station.
There were the kids taking their time on their way home from school. I was
grateful to see that at least in this world there weren't as many people giving
me the stinkeye as I gazed around at everything I passed. I came to a large
city park that had many tree-shaded paths and a large gazebo and fountain at
the center. I overheard a group of college-age students speaking and paused to
listen unobtrusively.
"—at any rate, I don't see why
there should still be four of them. Geronimo and Stormgale are perfectly
capable of handling anything a villain could dish out, all by themselves."
One young man finished his speech by pushing the thick glasses up his nose yet
again.
"Hey, no fair!" the girl
standing next to him whined, "Marksman has always been my favorite, ever
since he—"
"Oh jeez, not the purse story
again!" A jock standing next to her pretended to gag.
"It's true!" her friend
interposed. "I saw him leave the alley where he dumped the thief, and then
he just vanished! I believe you, Prissy!"
"I'm just saying,"
Glasses interjected yet again, "Stormgale and Geronimo are the real
heroes; Marksman and Shellie are never going to be anything much."
His comment hung in the air, until
Prissy spoke again. "Do you think it's true?"
Glasses looked at her, "What
is?"
"That the time of the
superheroes is coming to an end."
Jock waved his hands, "I
really don't see how that could happen; I mean, what else are they going to
do?"
"Hey Priss," her friend
glanced at her cell phone and looked up, "We need to get to the mall if we
want to meet up with Brianna in time."
Prissy nodded, "See you later,
guys!"
"Bye!" Glasses and Jock
chorused. They too departed the area.
I moved on, thinking about what I
had just heard. The news article hadn't mentioned the other two superheroes at
all. I wondered what their powers were. Marksman, at least sounded something
like Bullseye, someone with quick reflexes and pinpont accuracy, but the fourth
one—if her name was Shellie, it certainly wasn't descriptive at all. Maybe she
was like Rogue, of the X-Men, and had a power that could not be put into a cool
superhero name for her. But why wouldn't they be as impressive as the other
pair?
At any rate, I knew I needed to
find these superheroes. Or perhaps I needed them to find me. I smiled; I knew
at least one of them was an expert at catching purse-snatchers. And I had a
purse just ripe for the snatching.
I walked deliberately in front of a
panhandler and made a grat big show of holding my purse loosely at my side as I
hailed a cab. Sure enough, he nearly jerked my arm out of it's socket as he
lunged for my purse and dashed around the corner.
"Stop thief!" I shrieked,
running after him, stumbling pitifully all the way, of course. "That man
took my purse!" I yelled as I charged down the sidewalk in pursuit,
"Someone help me!"
He ran around a corner, and I began
to hope that now one of the heroes would come rescue me. I charged after
him—and nearly bowled over a dashing young man wearing a dark wool trenchcoat
and holding my purse. The hobo who had taken it lay unconscious on the
sidewalk. The man extended the purse to me, the wind rippling through his thick
dark hair as his piercing green eyes sparkled.
"Is this yours?" he asked
warmly.
I didn't have to fake my shock, but
I knew if it was one of the heroes I would need to show proper respect to gain
access to the rest.
"Thank you so much!" I
gushed, catching my breath and accepting my purse. "You're a hero!"
The man smiled, "Yes, I
am."
My heart nearly jumped into my
throat. "You are one of the heroes?" I inquired.
The man raised an eyebrow and
chuckled, "Not quite; unfortunately I am a hero by opportunity, not by
profession."
"Oh," I felt my cheeks
burn. Here I was expecting that the only people to do good deeds in this city
would be the ones with super-powers, and my purse had just been returned by a
simple Good Samaritan! "Thank you," I said, and turned to walk back
out to the street.
It took me several blocks to
recover my composure. As soon as I did, I immediately began mulling over where
exactly I could find the heroes.
"If I was part of a group of
superheroes," I murmured, "I would be..."
I thought carefully; Geronimo was
very good-looking and most likely enjoyed the high-profile life. To me that
said something like a penthouse; heck, maybe they had a whole highrise to
themselves! I started scanning the upper floors of the buildings I passed.
Stormgale, with her control of the
elements, would probably want something with a terrace, or at least plenty of windows.
I started looking for the more modern-style buildings. Marksman, with extreme
accuracy as his superpower, would probably prefer a place with optimal vantage
points, in a key area of the city. I stopped on a corner near the City Hall and
scanned down the various streets, muttering the description under my breath as
I searched for a building that best suited it.
"Tall, modern building, glass
penthouse, terrace garden, central—"
I spotted it. Down the street to my
left stood a lofty skyscraper, modern design, and just a hint of a garden on
the terrace. Of course it was nearly impossible to see into the penthouse—but
didn't that make it the perfect headquarters?
I moseyed down the sidewalk toward
the building in question. Everyone around me was so incredibly normal that it
was almost hard to remember that this was a fictional universe in which
superheroes existed.
I reached the corner in front of
the tall building. It was called The Spire. That certainly sounded like a
high-end apartment to me. I surveyed the territory.
A doorman stood under the awning at
the front door. To the left of the building was the parking garage. I figured I
wouldn't get too far past the stony-faced man out front, so I quickly darted
across the street and strolled into the parking garage. I paused just inside
the door, but it did not appear that anyone noticed me. The gate was even
automated, no one sat in the tiny square booth at the center.
I walked up the steep ramp to the
first level of the garage. At the end of the long double-row of cars, I saw an
elevator designated with a sign "To The Spire." I was in!
An engine revved next to me. I
quickly skirted the bumper and headed for the elevator, but the car pulled out
and headed toward me! I broke into a run. Maybe I could reach the elevator in
time—
A second car backed out of its slot
just ahead of me, and I couldn't stop in time. I slammed into the side at full
speed and blacked out.
I came to in total darkness. I felt
a chair beneath me, but I could not move my arms or legs. I felt a hood over my
face. I listened as hard as I could, but heard only silence.
"What are you doing
here?"
The voice came so close and so
sudden that were I not tied down I probably would have hit the roof.
The hood split open just in front
of my mouth, and I eagerly gulped fresh air.
Something tightened against my
chest.
"Don't make me ask again, why
are you here?" I could not find my voice before she continued, "We
know you were looking for us; are you in league with the Madman? What is he
planning?"
"I—"
"How close is he to finishing
the Madness Ray? Where has he hidden it? Tell us now! He can't hide from us
forever. We've protected the city so far! We know he claims to provide freedom
from the need for superheroes, but the truth is that it will be a result of his
controlling everyone's minds himself!"
"What is going on here?"
The voice that cut into hers was
infinitely more powerful, echoing as if in a large room. A massive hand yanked
the hood off my face. I squinted against the bright light.
Four people stood in front of me.
Geronimo, the brawny, tall hero, wearing jeans and a dark tee shirt that showed
off every inch of muscle. Beside him stood Stormgale, lithe, regal, and
dangerous as a Russian prima ballerina. The other two—
I gasped at the young man standing
next to Stormgale.
"You're the hobo who stole my
purse!" I cried.
Marksman snorted, "Stole? You
practically dropped it in my lap! I only pulled it off because obviously you
wanted me to take it!"
I turned to the other guy, standing
next to Geronimo. It was the same man who had returned the purse to me! Then
who had been speaking to me just now?
I glanced at Stormgale, but she was
glaring at the second young man.
"Shellie," she
reprimanded him, "Whatever you're up to, stop it now!"
I blinked, and suddenly before me
stood a young woman who looked almost exactly like the man who had been
standing in her place. Almost—except for the fact that she was a girl.
Shellie's power was shape-shifting!
So, not like Rogue, I thought, but more like Mystique.
Stormgale approached me and crossed
her arms.
"Now, stranger," she
said, "Tell us who you are."
"My name is Laura," I
answered.
"Does the Madman know you're
here?" Shellie's eyes gleamed as she pressed her own assumptions.
I shook my head, "You have nothing
to fear from me. I don't know anything about the Madman. I only just arrived in
the city."
Marksman tried to save face as the
older pair glared with disapproval at the youngers. "Why were you looking
for us, then? Why try to find us? And how did you know where to look?"
Geronimo walked around behind my
chair and snapped my bonds at one pull. I massaged life back into my limbs to
stall while I tried to formulate a reply. I mean, there was no way I was going
to tell them I had nearly invented their hideout without their realizing it.
"I heard people talking about
you," I explained, telling only the truth and as little as possible.
"I wanted to meet you because I am here to help you."
"Help!" Geronimo boomed,
laughing so loudly that his voice echoed around the vaulted ceilings.
"We're superheroes! We don't need help!"
"Oh yes, you do," I
countered, a little bolder now. "I know that your enemy, the Madman, has a
plan, but you don't know where he is, who he has working for him, or when he
plans to strike."
My words brought instant silence.
All the heroes stood warily, watching to see if I would do something
unexpected.
"How do you know all
this?" Stormgale asked.
I nodded toward the stricken young
girl at her side. "She said so, while I was tied up."
"Shellie," Geronimo
growled sternly, glaring at the young woman.
Shellie looked from one to the
other like a cornered mouse between two cats.
"It was Marks' idea!" she
whimpered.
Stormgale whirled on Marksman. A
tendril of ivy splayed from her hand and crept toward him.
"Watch it!" He batted the
vine away, "I just thought she was being way too obvious, so I figured she
must know something."
"Yeah," Geronimo snorted,
"Especially after you bring her here to the Spire and tell her everything
we know!"
Stormgale sighed, "All right,
everybody huddle."
I watched the four heroes group
together at the side of the room. I saw some soft-looking couches, but the
minute I moved to go take a seat, a thin cord with weighted ends wrapped around
my ankles. Another cord, longer and thicker, wrapped around my chest and pinned
my arms.
"Stay there," Marksman
ordered, looking none too happy about the current situation.
They spoke in low tones so I
couldn't eavesdrop, nor could I move, wrapped in the cords as I was. I waited a
long while. Finally, the four heroes surrounded me, Stormgale behind me,
Geronimo in front of me, and Marksman and Sherrie on my right and left.
Geronimo nudged Shellie.
"Sorry for lying to you and
kidnapping you," she muttered.
Stormgale punched Marksman in the
shoulder; or rather, she went for it, but he saw the hit coming and dodged.
"Sorry for running you down
with the car and tying you up."
"Speaking of tying..."
Geronimo glanced suggestively at the cords now restraining me. Marks gave a
sharp pull in a certain direction, and the cords came loose.
Geronimo extended his hand.
"If you're going to stay here, we'd like to know your name."
I struggled to keep from grimacing
under his crushing grip. "It's—I'm, uh, Laura," I stammered.
Stormgale smiled and gave me a small
courtesy hug. "Welcome, Laura."
"Wait," I didn't
understand the sudden change of attitude. "You're letting me stay
here?"
Marksman shook his head,
"Can't have you running around unsupervised. Not with everything you
know." He sneered pointedly at me.
"And especially not after
everything you've seen," Stormgale nailed both Marksman and Shellie with a
pointed stare.
"Shellie," Geronimo
rapped out quickly, "Get Laura a room and meet us in the Situation
Station." He turned away without making eye contact.
Shellie looked like a kicked dog.
"Follow me, Laura."
I did, and she led me to another
larger room adjacent to the main penthouse, with several rooms leading off of
it.
"This one will be yours,"
she opened a door for me.
Shellie walked over to a console
and began swiping through screens.
"This room is equipped with
state-of-the-art custom environment technology. Anything about this room that
can be controlled is done from here: temperature, lighting, shades,
entertainment, the works. If you need anything, go to this menu and order it.
Whatever you want will be delivered to this door." She pointed to a second
door that looked like an alternate entrance to the room. "Bear in mind
that this door," she pointed to the one we entered, "is for going in
and out of the room. That one is for deliveries only."
I tested out the bed. "This is
soft," I remarked gratefully.
Shellie rolled her eyes.
"You're not here for merit, you know." She sighed, "Yeah, I
realize it's Marks' and my fault for bringing you up here without checking
first, but really, we're not letting you stay here as much as we're intending
now to keep you prisoner here."
I blinked. "You mean—"
She smirked, "What has been
seen cannot be unseen," she quipped, "so now that you are the first
civilian to see our digs—"
"With a hero like Geronimo? I
highly doubt that!"
"Ahem! The first civilian to
see our real digs," she amended, "you now cannot leave without our
permission."
"But feel free to participate
in our family discussions," Geronimo's grinning face appeared on the
console. "All settled, Laura? Come on down!"
Shellie and I went back through the
penthouse into a room that looked like a cross between a laboratory and a
surveillance bank. Monitors, test tubes, maps, chemicals, weapons cache, and
steel worktables spread across a room the size of a football field.
Stormgale and Geronimo were looking
over some data on a screen and discussing it.
"—But if that's so, why would
he get a shipment of swamp coolers?" Stormgale was saying.
Geronimo waved his hand, "Red
herring, Storm. I am pretty certain that the Madness Ray is coming into full
capacity, and if we can locate it somewhere in Europe, we can stop the
apocalypse before it happens."
Marksman came forward and scanned
the holographic map. Red blips flashed at various points over the terrain. I
watched as he tapped on a few of those dots and scrolled through the news
reports about suspicious activity going on in all these areas. I saw him scan
certain areas with keen interest, much like King Marcus poring over the map of
Phantasia.
Geronimo still argued with
Stormgale.
"I'm telling you, the strike
is coming!"
"Don't you think I know that?
Chatter in the Middle East has intensified, and my sources are saying that more
and more known hideouts are turning up empty and strongholds left unguarded: in
the Amazon, the Arctic, China, Russia, Africa..."
"There."
Both heroes looked up in surprise
at the unmistakable certainty in Marksman's voice.
"Where?" Stormgale asked.
Marksman made a stretching motion
with his hands to expand the map in one area, just off the coast of Norway. He
used a prying motion to bring the terrain closer to him, highlighting one
particular mountain peak. He pinched the image, and a blinking red dot appeared
on the west side of the mountain.
"More precisely," he
added, "It's here."
"No way," Stormgale shook
her head. "If he were hiding out in Norway, we would know."
"You do know," Marksman
replied evenly. "You've been tracking his movements, haven't you? All the
shipments, the workers—"
"None of them ever suggested
Norway."
"Oh did they?" Marksman
backed the map out to a view of all the continents, with the several red dots
highlighting suspicious activity. He entered some information into the
computer, and a host of red lines appeared, connecting all the dots—and every
one of them crossed the dot in Norway.
"And from there it's a clear
shot to Phantasmic City." Marksman crossed his arms, smiling judiciously.
Geronimo leaped to action. He
grabbed a communicator. "All teams move in on Norway, Mount—" he hesitated
before totally butchering the pronunciation of the name. "Madman is—Yes,
I'm aware of that! I'm telling you now, everyone go—well of course I
understand! Get your team out of the Vatican and GO CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN."
He slammed down the receiver and turned to Stormgale.
"Storm, you and I will suit
up," he said. "We'll join the team in Norway as soon as we can get
there."
"Can I come too?"
Marksman reached for his bow.
"Not a chance, Skippy,”
Geronimo stopped him scornfully. “You wouldn’t do us any good, anyhow. Everyone
knows I’m the only one who will be able to get close enough to disable the Ray
gun.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Stormgale, just emerging in her
super-suit. “Storm is my diversion. Now you and Shellie stay here and hold the
fort.” He turned and caught sight of me. “Oh,” he added, “and keep an eye on
the girl.” Geronimo left the room chuckling, and the three of us—Marksman,
Shellie, and I—stood watching the empty door.
Shellie and I jumped as Marksman
launched a paper wad through the air and into a trashcan at the far side of the
room, nailing the lid with a resounding clang.
“This is incredibly not fair!”
Shellie fumed. Marksman said nothing, but marched over to the monitors tracking
the two heroes’ movements. Already they were halfway across the Atlantic.
“Yeah, well,” Marksman muttered
bitterly, “I can’t say I’m surprised. Geronimo and Stormgale have done all the
big hero work in Phantsmic City for so long, what chance do heroes like us
have?”
Finally, Geronimo and Stormgale
landed at the mountain peak. The surveillance kept close tabs on them as they
snuck around the outer defenses (behind a fog created by Stormgale) and into
the heart of the Madman’s lair.
We watched as Stormgale and
Geronimo progressed through the maze of halls, silencing every minion they saw
before any of them could make a sound. Swiftly and surely, they disabled all
defenses. Any time a door or a gun confronted them, Geronimo smashed through
it. Any time a minion thought to alert the rest of his unit, Stormgale blasted
them with fire or tied them up with vines. At last, they came through one last
door, and it opened into a room just like the Situation Station.
“Ah, heroes!” a sinister voice
mused, “How kind of you to join us!”
Instantly, the two of them were set
upon by hundreds of minions. It was truly an amazing sight to see Geronimo
tossing bodies about as if they were made of paper, and Stormgale creating a
confusion of roots and vines and blocks of ice as she kept the minions at bay.
We saw the onslaught of minions separate the two of them, as each was forced to
do battle on their own. They drifted further and further apart, so it became
more difficult for us to watch both of them at the same time. Madman had
already inundated his forces with the Madness Ray, so he only had to sit back
and watch his minions do the work. He taunted Geronimo and Stormgale.
“You didn’t think I’d just sit back
and wait to be arrested, did you? I have been planning this for months, I know
exactly how to defeat you! You cannot stop me, not after all I have done to
arrive at this, my final moment! This weapon has been tested enough; you have
seen what I can do with it. Now imagine an entire city under my control.
Imagine an entire nation! There will be no more fighting, no more wars, no more
senseless killings, no more crimes—because everyone will be doing only what I
tell them to! Oh dear,” he clucked his
tongue, “You know what that would mean for heroes like you. No criminals to
apprehend, no disasters to avert—you’d be out of a job! What will you do when
you don’t have hero-work to accomplish? No one would need you—how boring!”
His words accomplished exactly what
he wanted them to. The three of us were so wrapped up in watching the
devastating effect of the Madman’s words on Geronimo’s ego, that we were just
as oblivious to everything as he was until Stormgale screamed, “Geronimo, HELP!”
He turned around, but they were too
far apart. He was too late to rescue her before the flood of minions herded her
into a giant silver sphere. It clamped shut around her, and though it was
evident from the noises that she was doing everything in her power to escape,
not even a crack showed on the surface of the sphere.
“Oh my!” Madman exclaimed with glee. “Did
you lose something, Geronimo? Oh, how unlucky!” His voice gave us all the
chills. What would Geronimo do now?
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