The Golden Avenger informs Odyssey that there haven't been any additional
kidnappings today -- a fact for which everyone at PRIMUS is hopeful means
the rash is over. "I am not so optimistic," he says.
"Nor I," Ralph's theatrical voice booms behind the two of them.
Standing on the wrap-around open porch in his late Victorian house, there's
a sweeping view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the City behind them.
The Golden Avenger raises an eyebrow. "Good evening, sir," he
says, holding out his hand. "Odyssey has told me that you have some
information about the kidnap--"
"I will discuss this momentarily," Ralph says, wild-eyed. "Not
outside." Every time Odyssey sees him, he looks a little different
-- today he appears to be in his late 80s. He's wearing a tweed jacket
and worn Levi's with Birkenstocks. He leads them through halls and rooms
of dusty bookshelves, and shelves of bizarre statues. Antiquities are perched
on every wall of the house, and they pass what looks suspiciously like
a Degas, leaning haphazardly against a wall. Degas? Cassie thinks.
When did Ralph start enjoying the ballet?
Finally they're led into Ralph's office. "You will wait for the
others," he says, then leaves.
The office is surprisingly neat, given the state of the rest of the house.
The books here line up in orderly rows, and there's no dust on the heavy
oak desk. There is a picture of Cassie and Tony with the young Elvis, however,
and the Golden Avenger raises his eyebrow in the gesture Cassie is learning
is his strongest expression of shock. "You were married in Vegas?"
he asks, as Knightblade and Protector arrive.
"Actually, we eloped," she answers. "It's a long story that
involves two families, two religions and an argument over whether or not
the pope is infallible. Perhaps another time I'll go into it, if you're
interested. It is a nice picture though. And boy did Elvis sing one kick-ass
version of Blue Suede shoes at the reception party. You know, he was a
qualified minister and married us."
When Ralph enters the room again, he seems more gathered than Cassie has
seen him in years. "I knew this was coming," he says. "We
had thought it would happen fifty years ago, but it's happening now."
"What's happening?" asks the Golden Avenger.
Ralph glares at him, and the Golden Avenger holds his hands up in a conciliatory
gesture. "There is a large gathering of evil forces," Ralph says.
"We had anticipated back in the forties, but when we worked the Spell
of Protection it seemed to do the trick. I've been watching ever since,
for the resurgence, and now it's happening again."
The Golden Avenger opens his mouth to ask another question, but Ralph cuts
him off. "All of this has happened before," Ralph says. "The
singers, the painters, the thinkers. In the forties it was passed off by
the government as actions of the Japanese, but we knew the truth. But this
time they aren't taking pairs, there are taking five."
Knowing that if she interrupts him at this point he'll be rude and might
possibly mention the great broccoli incident, Cassie listens, knowing he'll
let her talk when he's done.
"Now, in the old days, there was only one way to handle cultists."
Ralph gestures with a gnarled hand to a double-barreled shotgun in the
corner. "But I'm getting a little old for that. So I need your help."
"Pardon me, Ralph, but you've caught me kind of in the dark here,"
Odyssey says, looking a little perplexed. I've really got to start paying
more attention to Tony's golf partners, I think.
"Exactly why are these cultists kidnapping singers, painters and thinkers?
And what are they cultists of? And while we are discussing this, do you
have any idea what they are planning and how we can one, track them down,
and two, fight them?"
"Oh, and if I find out that you've been hauling that," Odyssey
points to the double-barreled shotgun in the corner, "around in a
golf bag and involving my husband in God knows what when you were 'supposedly'
playing the back 18 at Augusta Field, there'll be hell to pay."
"Look here, missy," Ralph scolds. "I was fighting cultists
when your daddy was a twinkle in his daddy's eyes."
Protector, under his breath: "I know how you feel..."
"If I knew why they wanted these people, I wouldn't have called you,"
Ralph continues. "Last time, they needed them to summon something
from the deep. I don't ask why, I just do. Or maybe you would have preferred
that I ask Nyarlathotep why he wanted to invade this dimension?"
"Ahhh, there's the Ralph I know and love," Odyssey says, bestowing
a devilish smile on Ralph. "You had me worried, being so nice and
polite. Suddenly inviting me and all my friends to your house. I was beginning
to suspect you might have gone soft on me or gotten yourself possessed
- that's so common with cult investigators. Good to see you haven't. Oh,
and that crack about Nyarlathotep, knowing you Ralph, it wouldn't surprise
me at all, if you didn't find some way to carry it off and still escape
unscathed."
"Some day you're going to have to tell how old you really are,"
Odyssey adds with a wink.
"Hmph," Ralph says. "Unlikely." But his eyes do crinkle
a bit.
The Golden Avenger clears his throat. "Excuse, me, sir," he begins.
"It is my understanding that there are two groups at work here, not
just one. I believer that Odyssey knows more about this theory?" He
looks at the beautiful Greek woman expectantly.
"I reviewed the reports with Silver Avenger Chow and one of the things
that struck me was that two of the abductions of the singers were accomplished
using a Pentagram while the other three abductions were done by our masked
phantom," Odyssey says. "It started me thinking that perhaps
all the attacks were not being done by the same group. I mean, why waste
time, energy and resources drawing pentagrams, etc., when you can just
pop up grab the person and be gone."
"Now, what if we have two groups working? One that uses pentagrams.
One that uses Casper the ghost. And, what if the two groups are working
against each other or competing for scarce resources - the singers, painters
and thinkers?"
"It also got me thinking about some biblical references to the Rapture
and the coming of the Beast in the Book of Revelations. But I don't know
if they apply here anymore."
"So far I've only heard the report of one thinker being kidnapped.
Do we have a chance of putting a watch out on other well known scientists,
think tank members, etc?"
"Ralph, you are familiar with spells, what else would be needed besides
the artists, thinkers and singers? Any special books, magical items? Would
the spell have to be conducted in any particular place?"
"Perhaps if we can anticipate what these people need to get, we can
beat them to the punch and surprise them."
Knightblade listens quietly to the conversation. Mentally sifting through
all the facts while looking for ideas.
"So far as I know," Ralph says, "There are only the three
groups of people. The biggest problem is that no one's willing to advertise
being a cultist these days. As for the coming of the beast, there's something
you might be interested in. A certain man of my acquaintance who has wrestled
his whole life with demons, or rather, with being possessed by a demon,
was recently trapped in this dimension. Since his demonic form is a tiger,
he qualifies as a beast. Last night he was 'summoned' by five cultists
-- in the middle of the Palace of Fine Arts, no less! -- and his life force
was being sucked dry. Well," Ralph adds colloquially, "Until
I managed to pull his butt out of there. But frankly, I'm more worried
about Hounds of Tindalos than I am the Rapture."
"I don't know the specifics of the spell yet, but I'm calling on a
few old friends who might be able to help. Hopefully they'll be in contact
with me soon. Can you tell me more about the people who have been taken?"
Ralph asks. "That would be a good place to start. What do they have
in common?"
Slowly, a thought starts to form in Protector's mind. Something just out
of his reach. The events of the last two months seem about to congeal into
something. His realizations about things that have happened, and things
that have not happened. His eyes grow wide, and a small part of why his
life was disrupted two months before becomes clear to him. Someone had
something to gain.
And suddenly something connects with a nearly audible click in his head.
"Oh my God." He says quietly, but audibly. The low tone of his
statement adds to its impact as everyone turns to look at him.
"The Spell of Protection." Protector states in almost a whisper,
as if he can't quite believe what he's thinking. "It shut out all
magic power, both good *and* bad for the last fifty years didn't it? But
it didn't have to be that way did it? It could have been different, couldn't
it?"
He puts his fingers to his temple and his eyes dart from side to side.
Almost to himself, "Cripes... what did I do...?"
"What are you talking about?" the Golden Avenger asks. "Are
you saying you're the Protector from 50 years ago?"
"Hello, Earth to Protector," Odyssey says, her eyes narrowing
on a man who appears to be talking to himself. "Um, maybe we could
help if you weren't so cryptic. What do you mean about this 'Spell of Protection'
?"
Looking up at GA, Protector takes a deep breath. "The details are
complicated, but yes I am." He steps toward one side of the room,
eying the older objects on display. "I was a federal agent here in
San Francisco for eight years before it happened. Against my will I was
somehow sent back in time to 1938. At first I didn't believe it. Even after
I discovered my powers, I tried not to do anything. I mean, I've seen Star
Trek, right? You're not supposed to do anything to the past, I know."
He paces back and forth as he speaks.
"But I couldn't live my life in a box. After almost a year of concealing
myself, I finally started using my powers to fight crime. When the war
broke out I went to the War Department and signed up." Skipping a
bit Shawn decided he'd rather not say much more and sums up, "In July
of 1945, the same weird fog that started the whole thing showed up again
and here I am... But this isn't where I was. Things are different. Some
very big things and a *lot* of little things." He turns to face Ralph.
"Specifically, there were a lot of magical superheroes around all
through this time since The War. Even though I wasn't a part of that business,
I remember seeing them on the news and in magazines all the time. Now there
are practically none. I have always wondered why I was picked, what anyone
had to gain by sending me back in time. Now I'm starting to have my suspicions,
but... its getting harder to remember the way things used to be..."
"Multiple Earths, that's the second time I've heard that mentioned
today," Odyssey says, suddenly realizing she's been pursuing the wrong
track of information for the last few minutes. "It seems like every
time these magical happenings start, someone gets zapped into another Earth.
Same planet different dimension - to steal a line from 'Sliders.' "
"I wonder if they are somehow connected."
Hope surges to the forefront of Shawn's thoughts. Perhaps there is a way
to undo what happened in 1945. Maybe there's a place where things didn't
have to end that way.
"Twice?" Protector said, suddenly very interested. "Who
was the other?"
"I'm sorry, I can't give you that person's name," Odyssey says.
Protector stiffens and glares at the curt response.
"The only reason I bring it up now, is perhaps these dimensional shifts
are somehow connected to these strange happenings. Either they are directly
a part of this or an ancillary effect of all this magic. Ralph, you've
had more experience with all this magic stuff. What do you think? Could
dimensional teleporting be a part of this?"
"Wait one damn minute," Protector stares squarely at Odyssey.
He speaks slowly, his tone most grave. "This isn't some telephone
solicitor asking for your friend's address. My *world* is gone. Some people
I rather care for were a part of it, and some of them aren't here in this
one, so don't you dare brush me off like that." He takes a deep breath.
"What we have to do here is more important right now, but we *will*
talk about this later."
Knightblade sighs inwardly and thinks, "Note to myself: If Protector
doesn't realize what a complete ass he just made of himself and apologize
before we leave... punch his lights out and explain it to him."
"Protector, I realize that you have gone through extreme adversity,"
Odyssey says, striving to diffuse the situation. "I am simply stating
a fact. That information was given to me in confidence. I agreed to tell
no one. As a superhero, I think you understand the importance of honoring
your word. I brought this up now because of the extreme situation and the
danger posed to at least 11 lives - five singers, five artists and at least
one thinker. Plus the danger facing an entire city, possibly the world."
"To solve this problem, I don't think you need the name of the person
I was referring too," Odyssey adds. "If, at such time, you could
explain to me why this name was necessary, I would ask that person's permission
to reveal their identity."
"Furthermore, need I remind you that you've told me precious little
about your life," Odyssey says, giving Protector a very earnest look.
"How am I to know what has happened to you or why? It wasn't until
just now that you revealed you've been living back in time. Before you
rush to judgment on why I am - for now- refusing your request, perhaps
you should look at it from my point of view and also realize that I know
so very little about you."
"She's talking about my twin brother," the Golden Avenger says
quietly. "He disappeared in 1984, spent twelve years in another dimension,
and was returned by a 'magical force' three months ago." Suddenly
both Knightblade and Protector remember the CNN broadcast of the appointment
of Admiral Alexander Johnson as Secretary of the Navy. While it was widely
known that the Golden Avenger is the Admiral's youngest son, what had come
to light recently was that his oldest son was found after a long absence.
No other mention of the circumstances had been made in the press. "We're
still unclear on the details, or why he vanished in the first place. Theories,"
he says with a slight smile to Odyssey,"are running rampant."
"I am curious about how the world has changed," he directs to
Protector. "What is different?"
"Before you answer, Ralph, can I ask one question? Has anyone else
noticed... inconsistencies in the world around them? When I woke up this
morning, the food in my refrigerator was different. Not drastically, but
definitely noticeably." Knightblade looked around the room to see
what kind of reaction he got. Personally, he wasn't too worried. Dusty's
name hadn't come up yet, and as long as he was somewhere else, things couldn't
be that bad or bizarre.
Protector turns to face the GA. "Many minor things. For instance my
Father served in a different unit in Vietnam than the one I remembered.
But some major ones." he pauses, wondering if its even a good idea
to say it. "World War Two ended two years early here. It's supposed
to go until 1947 when the US finally developed the A-bomb. In this world
we never even invaded Japan.
But of immediate concern here, is the fact that I remember there being
a lot of "magic" based supers around. One of the most famous
ones was a woman called Spelldancer in the 70s." Shawn remembered
the poster he had of that superheroine on his wall when he was a kid. He'd
had such a crush on her for a while there. Carol used to put a blue towel
around her neck and tease him by pretending to be Spelldancer and making
kissy-faces at him. Wow, hadn't thought about that for a long time. But
then his next thought hit him like a bucket of cold water in the face.
'Carol wouldn't remember that. It never happened.'
"The time frame for your brother's return is interesting, too,"
he continued. "I've been here about ten weeks now."
The Golden Avenger starts at his revelation, and even Ralph has stopped
glaring long enough to look genuinely interested. "You're saying that
magic played a real role in the world you grew up in," he says. "And
that the War lasted longer. I'm sorry, it's just so strange to imagine,"
he says.
"The difference between our world and the one Alex lived in for twelve
years was that there were no paranormal abilities at all in the other dimensions,"
he tells you all. "I mean, no magic, no PRIMUS, no VIPER."
Ralph speaks next. "I've never heard of a dimension without magic,"
he says, wringing his hands. "Here no one talks about it, but it shows
up, every so often. There are small magical things, like her amulet."
Ralph gestures at Odyssey. "That's pre-Mohammedan," he says proudly.
"From the forges of Damascus. It's magic, all right. But a world with
nothing," he shakes his head, "Would unbalance everything."
Knightblade shakes his head also, "No offense, Golden Avenger, but
the other dimension must have had, at least, minor magic even if your brother
never saw it. You said he was returned by a 'magical force'. Even if the
origin of that force was on our world, it wouldn't be able to reach a totally
non-magical world. It'd be like... trying to start a fire in a vacuum."
"According to Alex, there wasn't anything there. He spent over a decade
trying to get back. It is a little more complicated than I'm describing
it, for another individual was sent there -- either accidentally or by
design, we're not sure -- and when she was rescued, he was brought back,
too. The person -- and from what Alex told me, I'm using the term loosely
-- who brought them back owed a favor to the lover of the woman who had
been sent there." He shrugs. "From what I understand, it was
a 'dark, cloaked figure who never spoke. Alex wasn't asking questions,
either."
He turns to face Ralph, "Ralph, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong,
but I think there are some rules even magic has to obey."
"It's not like chemistry or even alchemy," Ralph says. "I
wish it were that simple. The only rules that magic follows are its own.
Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. If you say the chant correctly
and perform the spell at the right time, you certainly have a better shot
at success than not. But the Spell of Protection, even given all of the
precautions we took, still had complications."
Knightblade turns his attention back to the Golden Avenger, "I'm curious,
Protector said he returned through a weird fog. How did your brother return?
And... is he currently missing again?"
"He's as fine as can be for sitting in the Persian Gulf on the USS
John F. Kennedy," says the Golden Avenger. "Anyone trying to
kidnap him now would be hard pressed even to find him."
Knightblade stares thoughtfully out the window for a moment then says,
"Perhaps this dark cloaked figure discovered a weakening in the Spell
of Protection when he brought your brother and the woman back. It would
have been about the same time these mystical attacks began. Did your brother
get the name of the woman or her lover? They might lead us to him or at
least, have some more information."
"I'm sorry," he says. "But that information is highly classified.
Your idea has some merit, however. I will do what I can to see if PRIMUS
can verify it."
"The Spell of Protection," Ralph adds, "Was only meant as
a stop-gap measure anyway. It was intended to block whatever the cultists
were summoning at their ritual. We stumbled upon their plans, and it was
a race against time. After the initial failure of the spell, we finally
blocked the portal." He snorts. "You can still see where they
tried it," he says. "It's a run-down house on Highway 1 south
of Pacifica-- thing's been condemned for decades.It overlooks the ocean,
perched precariously on a cliff. The ground gave way underneath the building
-- aided by a little TNT."
"Well it sounds like that's a place to start," Protector says,
thinking that he has to do *something* about Carol or else he'd go crazy.
"Why don't we go see if there's anything left there." It was
a desperate, but he couldn't think of any other route.
"I know exactly where it is," the Golden Avenger says. "It's
right by my house. I'll check it out on my way home. Anyone want to come?"
"I'm up for a road trip." Odyssey says, jumping up from her place
on the couch. "I say we check it out. If it was used once, there's
no guarantee it's not being used again. And perhaps it might yield up some
clues."
"If you don't mind teleporting me back to PRIMUS," the Golden
Avenger says, "My Jeep is there, and I can take a couple people."
"I'll ride with you," Ralph pipes up, picking up his shotgun.
The Golden Avenger's eyebrows arch, but he doesn't say anything.
"It might be a longshot, but I don't think we have the luxury of ignoring
any connection," Knightblade states, "Let's go."
"Oh and since we are guessing that more than one group is involved
in all of the kidnappings try this theory on for size - remember I have
a lot of these," she says winking at the Golden Avenger. "Perhaps
another group is kidnapping some of these people not for evil cult purposes
but to benefit their own world. Great artists needed for a world that lacks
art; great singers for the tone deaf world; superheroes for the world without
paranormals or magic users; great thinkers for the world missing geniuses."
"I just remembered that our missing persons reports also included:
Four Berkeley professors -- history and art; three doctors from Kaiser
-- from a locked operating room; a German consul and his translating staff
-- four of them; and that woman from the think tank who lives on Nob Hill.
"
Near-imperceptible response from Protector when the last is mentioned,
(for those of you good at picking up on the near-imperceptible)
"Just a thought. If there is a cult working and grabbing some of these
people, who'd notice a few more missing. You'd just instinctively assume
that it was the cultists who grabbed them all. That would give someone
the perfect cover to come in and do a little wholesale mining for people
to improve their dimension....."
This sounded pretty far out, but Shawn wasn't about to rule anything out
of this madness. Odyssey had a magic artifact, so she was more of an authority
than him most likely.
"OK, I can teleport a few people back to PRIMUS headquarters,"
Odyssey says. "The Golden Avenger and Ralph, anyone else?"
"Knightblade and Protector, I saw you brought your own vehicles. Do
you just want to meet us at the house? At PRIMUS HQ?"
"If Protector's going to drive," Knightblade says, "I'd
just as soon catch a ride with him. I'm still trying to familiarize myself
with the Bay area."
"Actually," the Golden Avenger says, "If you want to meet
me at PRIMUS, we can all squeeze into the Jeep and still discuss what's
going on. If this is the place I'm thinking of, there isn't any parking
anyway, and it's on a cliff. One vehicle might not be conspicuous, but
two or more will be."
[Protector and Knightblade leave on Protector's motorcycle.]
"It almost makes me wish that I owned a Harley," Odyssey
says, looking wistfully at Protector's motorcycle as the two go down the
street. "What do you think Ralph - could you see me on a Harley tearing
down the freeway?"
Ralph eyes her skeptically. "Not in that outfit," he says. A
glance at the Golden Avenger reveals a poorly concealed smirk. As soon
as he notices her watching him, though, his expression becomes grave.
As they head back into the house, Odyssey adds, "By the way Ralph,
why do you have that Degas? I didn't know you were into Impressionists?"
"Darn gifts," he says. "It was a birthday gift from an old
friend -- a dancer -- and she thought I'd like it. I have no place to put
it, though. I don't suppose you and Anthony would like it, would you? You
have room for it?"
"Oh, Ralph, we'd love to have it, but something like this belongs
in the public so the world can appreciate its beauty. You should donate
it to a museum. I could arrange it with the de Young. You could even be
an anonymous donator if you'd like."
"Museum?" Ralph says. "Don't trust museums. Too easy for
things -- important things -- to get stolen."
It only takes a matter of seconds for the teleport between Ralph's house
and PRIMUS HQ. Still, Odyssey opens an eye carefully checking to make sure
all of us arrived with our clothes on. What would be worse, she
wonders, showing up at PRIMUS HQ without the Golden Avenger or showing
up at PRIMUS HQ with a naked Golden Avenger? Probably the naked Golden
Avenger. He'd kill me because all the Silver Avengers and Iron Guardsmen
would be making jokes.
What is immediately apparent about standing this close to the Golden
Avenger and Ralph, Odyssey notices, is that the Golden Avenger smells of
spicy aftershave, and Ralph smells like gin.
Odyssey thinks that they've all arrived with clothing intact. Ralph notices
your scrutinization, and wonders what you're up to. A brief explanation
yields a snort from him. "How would you notice if you were missing
clothes? You aren't wearing much to begin with. I thought superheroines
wore those leotards, and cloaks and boots!"
"I'll have you know that Tony picked this costume out and he loves
it," she says.
"I'll bet!" he snorts.
"Well at least I'm not wearing a chain mail bikini," she says
nonchalantly. "That would pinch."
An Iron guardsmen snickers at his comments, and the Golden Avenger stares
him down. "Why don't we wait inside?" he suggests. The wind is
coming off the bay, and it is frightfully cold. The Presidio takes the
brunt of the Pacific's weather, and though it's not too foggy, the mist
is still clinging to their hair and clothes.
[Protector and Knightblade on the motorcycle, vroom...]
As they head outside, Protector asks Knightblade for the frequency
of his helmet radio and adjusts his micro transmitter to compensate. As
they roar away from the house he asks, "New around here, huh? Where's
your old stomping ground?" He needed to keep talking to keep from
going crazy with worry over Carol. It had been an awful long time
since she had been kidnapped. What was happening to her?!
"Hudson City!" Knightblade yelled over the noise. He was beginning
to think that Protector had a death wish that only surfaced when he drove.
Especially after a particularly tight turn that scraped some of the chrome
off his armor at the calf. Actually, that doctorate in psychology Tyler
picked up that summer was starting to pay off. Protector had obviously
been through a great trauma, but just from their first few meetings, Tyler
could tell he was acting differently. Ever since... well, better not to
guess. Too much of that going around. He leaned up to Protector and said,
"Protector, if I might ask, Where are you?" He last words were
slightly drowned out as Protector accelerated up one of San Francisco's
many hills."
Driving along, Protector points out major landmarks to Knightblade, helping
him to become familiar with the general layout of the area. But he can't
help commenting once in a while how something has changed since he last
saw it. How it "used to be a nice neighborhood" or how "of
course, none of this was here in '45." etc.
Knightblade allows him to go on for a while before yelling again, "No,
not where are we. Where are YOU? Because you're obviously not here."
"What the heck do you mean by that?" Protector says over his
shoulder.
"I don't think we have time for me to go over everything," Knightblade
says, "So, I'll start with the most obvious. Do you realize how you
spoke to Odyssey back there? I'm sorry, but I can't believe you would ever
act like that in normal circumstances. You've been back in the nineties
for ten weeks after eight years in the forties. You take your hat
off when you pass ladies in the street, don't you? You're puzzled when
a woman acts surprised when you hold the door for her. No man can break
those habits in such a short time, and he would never berate a woman in
front of others like that. Unless... he was severely preoccupied with something
else. So, I'm asking, because my life and the lives of others may depend
on it, what can distract a man from the fate of the entire world?"
[Back at PRIMUS]
Inside the base, the reception area is closed down for the day. The
building's dedication plaque hangs prominently (Odyssey had only noted
it briefly when she was here previously), with a picture of young Silver
Avenger Johnson standing proudly in front of the new base. It's a sharp
contrast to the older man, who is standing, waiting for the others to appear.
He seems tired now, and sad. Though he still looks young -- from the quick
math she did at lunch, she figures his age to be around 36, and he looks
maybe 30 years old -- he seems weary.
Ralph is standing vigil, back against a wall, shotgun in hand. Though the
agents balked at him carrying it in, a nod and what you thought was a wink
from the Golden Avenger silenced their protest.
"Hey are you OK?" Odyssey says, stepping up the Golden Avenger
and placing a hand on his shoulder. Well, what the hell, I really don't
know what this amulet does. Maybe it can heal the psyche too. I'll give
a try and I think good positive thoughts about the Golden Avenger.
"You look a little under the weather."
He turns and smiles slightly, sadly. "I'm fine, really," he says.
His eyes seem distant. "Memories, that's all." No one else is
around -- Ralph is occupied with polishing the barrel of his shotgun, seated
on one of the circular benches in the PRIMUS foyer. The entire front wall
of the structure is glass, and outside the two Iron Guardsmen are laughing
at some joke. He shakes his head and smiles more genuinely.
"Things have just changed a lot in the last ten years or so. Who would
have thought PRIMUS would start working with vigilantes, for one?"
he gestures to Ralph and turns towards Odyssey.
"Well, I don't know if I'd put Ralph in the same category as the Punisher,"
she says in a joking tone. "For one thing he doesn't own a motorcycle.
But then they say strange times make strange bedfellows."
Lowering her voice to more of a whisper I add, "At least he's not
beating up on the Iron Guardsman. I think he would have if they took his
gun away. Thank you."
His eyes are an amazing clear blue -- unreal, really -- and when he smiles
the skin around his eyes crinkles, and he almost makes her forget the expression
of pure agony that you caught on his face only a moment ago. "I'm
fine. Thanks for asking, though, Odyssey." He turns back, and stares
out the window, waiting.
Yeah, right and pigs can fly. Tony gets the exact way when he doesn't
want me to know he's upset. Funny that, he hates when I make him share
his feelings. I find it hilarious that it's something he and the Golden
Avenger have in common. Well, he may not talk to me about it, but that
doesn't prevent me from saying something. It's the same tact I use with
Tony. Tell him what I think and then leave him to mull it over. It may
not help, but at least it makes him realize that someone cares about him.
Though I imagine Maria Chow has probably tried this on him to no avail.
But, maybe if we both keep doing it, something will sink in.
"It's hard being away from someone you love," Odyssey says
earnestly but softly, not expecting any reply. "I know I miss Tony
and he's just gone on a business trip. I don't know what I would have done
if I could never see him again. I guess that's why we defied our parents
and eloped - that fear of separation. Well, that and a burning desire to
have Elvis sing Blue Suede Shoes at our wedding."
Talking to the Golden Avenger's back is not easy. For one thing it's
really big. Still I continue. "But now that we've been married,
well, he's here always in my heart. And no matter what I do - even rummaging
through cultists houses - he's here with me."
"She's still here with you too. Maybe not physically here, but she'll
always be here in your heart. No one can take that away from you."
And with that she sits down on a chair in the reception area. It all
would have been easier if the amulet helped me mend hearts as well as limbs.
Why can nothing in life be easy?
"Well Ralph, what do you think we'll find at this house?"
"What the hell?!" Golden Avenger says, opening the glass doors
suddenly.
"What?" Odyssey asks, standing again.
"Knightblade and Protector just stopped down the hill. Looks like
they're...fighting?"
He strides out, into the night, and Odyssey and Ralph follow. "Stay
here," he orders the Iron Guardsmen, who look a tad disappointed under
all that armor.
The three of them are concealed by high trees and an old bunker as they
stare down at the scene below. Though they aren't more than 50 feet from
PRIMUS, the building is out of sight. How did the Golden Avenger know?
[Protector and Knightblade off the motorcycle]
"Off." says Protector, his tone implying that defiance is
not an option. Startled, Knightblade gets off the bike, and stands ready
for anything. Protector dismounts and turns to face him.
"Son, don't you lecture me on good etiquette; I've stood before more
Kings, Queens, and Presidents than you could probably name. I know when
to mind my Ps and Qs and when to tell them to go to hell. And don't tell
me how I ought to act because of where I've been. You don't know anything
about what we did back then. If a woman did what Odyssey did tonight back
in 1945, I'd have dressed her down just the same way. I have never ever
expected any less from my teammates because they were women. And don't
even think about implying that my mind isn't 100% on the job at hand. I
have served my country through thick and thin. If I'm not doing a jig over
having to "save the world", it's only because I've done it
before. If you carried the burden I did, you'd throw that shiny suit
in the nearest ravine and run home as fast as you could, so if you ever
say what you just did, ever again... I'm going to knock your block off.
Is that clear?"
"Great," Odyssey mutters. "Evil is rising, trying to take
over the world and these two are having a fight. I knew I should have teleported
everyone straight to PRIMUS."
"Don't interrupt them," the Golden Avenger whispers. "They've
been needing to hash this out all night. You too, Ralph."
"I know, I know," Ralph grumbles. "I bet Cass, er, Odyssey
could kick both their butts, though."
"Um, Golden Avenger, you wouldn't happen to have a jacket I could
borrow, do you? It's kind of cold out here, but I kind of want to see who
wins. What do you suppose they're arguing about - who's got bigger armor?"
He gives her the bomber jacket, which is warm and smells good. He says,
"I don't know. Usually it's whose weapon is bigger, but this looks
like an alpha-dog thing." He looks wryly at Odyssey.
[Protector and Knightblade arguing.]
Knightblade's eyes never waver from Protector's as he says, "Very
clear. But let me explain something to you, son." Knightblade's
voice takes a harsher tone, and his armor creaks as his muscles tense.
"You better oil up that glove. Because if I ever have reason to worry
about my teammates, I am going to speak my mind. Honestly, openly,
and probably in private, like now. And the first thing you need to learn
about me is that any man can talk to me, but the only man that can
*lecture* me is my father. Now, if you don't agree with that, you go right
ahead and throw that punch. Afterwards, we'll get back on your bike and
go to PRIMUS. Just realize, that when we've finished "saving the world",
I'm going to return that punch... with interest."
Protector thinks, 'So he's saying if I hit him, he's too big of a man to
fight back right now, but I better watch out later when its a more appropriate
time for him to sock me. That's not how anger works you idiot. What a load
of modern psycho-crud!' "Just who are you worried about?"
"You, dammit," Knightblade says, "You've been wound
tighter than a bomb squad on espresso ever since last night. Maybe I'm
the only one who's noticed, but it's clear as glass to may." Protector
notices a definite southern drawl creep into Knightblade's voice as he
gets agitated. "And if you'll excuse me for being braught up to give
a damn about people, but I wanted to see if I could help out an any way.
So you know, ah was also raised to stay out of a man's private affairs.
If it's personal, just say so. If I'm wrong, tell me. I'd
prefer just about anything over being insulted."
Protector turns away, and gets on the bike, his back to Knightblade. He
closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds, trying to push his emotions
down where they won't be in the way for the time being. In the blackness
before him he can still see her face. She's so lovely. Her eyes look into
his, their blueness breathtaking. She smiles an odd smile, different from
her usual one, a little off-center. For a split second her eyes dart to
the left, and return to his, then she smiles a little wider.
Her form is only a blur to him; her super-soldier's reflexes propelling
her across the lab with amazing speed. He screams for her to stop with
a cry torn from the depths of his heart, and pulls the trigger. The revolver
thunders and acrid smoke curls up around his face. She stops, her features
sharp as crystal in the desert sun streaming in through the skylights.
Looking down at the rapidly expanding dark-red stain on her torso, a tiny
gasp escapes her lips, then, oddly, a giggle. She sways, and begins to
fall. Dropping the pistol, he rushes forward to catch her, but is too late,
and the back of her skull strikes the concrete with a sickening whack.
Protector opens his eyes.
"Alright," he says evenly, without looking back at Knightblade,
"I'm telling you, then. It's personal." He starts the bike and
the engine roars back to life. "Now, c'mon... We've got to go save
the world."
Knightblade pauses a little while before getting back on the bike, apparently
to compose himself. As he gets on the bike, he hands Protector a plain
white business card. On the front, is a very simple:
Tyler McBain
Researcher
Metahuman Research Corporation
And a phone number with an extension. As Protector turns it over, he
sees written on the back in blue ink, "Home," another phone number,
and the words, "Just in case you run out of espresso." Knightblade
leans over his shoulder and says, "Well, let's do it."
Tucking the card smoothly into his jacket pocket, Shawn reaches out and
grabs the grips tightly with both hands. He kicks the bike forward off
of its stand and the back wheel grabs the ground, throwing it backward
beneath them in a spray of dirt and gravel. In moments they pull up in
front of the PRIMUS gates and are swiftly admitted.
When it looks like they're about done the GA gestures for Odyssey and Ralph
to come back into the PRIMUS building. "Probably not a good idea to
let them know we saw them discussing their feelings," he says.
"Well, I wouldn't want to disturb their bonding session," I reply.
The Golden Avenger, Odyssey, and Ralph are standing in front of the PRIMUS
building when Protector and Knightblade arrive.
Protector leans the bike onto its stand and the two of them dismount and
join the others.
"Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long."
"No, no," the Golden Avenger says, unlocking the door to the
white Jeep Cherokee (It has the old blue and gold California vanity plate:
SCOUT). "Odyssey and I were having a lovely talk."
He opens the door for Odyssey, then unlocks the back doors. Protector,
Knightblade and Ralph -- and Ralph's shotgun -- are left to squeeze into
the Jeep's back seat. "I've also informed a team in the area that
we're going in on this, in case we need even more backup," he adds.
"Not that I think we'll need it, but you never can tell. Better to
be prepared, anyway."
When he switches on the engine, the stereo picks up, and you hear "Army
Dreamers," by Kate Bush come on. He turns the volume down, but you
can still hear it in the background. He zips through the windy roads of
the Presidio and through the darkened residential area of China Beach,
to end up cruising down a stretch of road along the coast called the "Great
Highway." Hardly that, it only lasts for a few minutes, when he pulls
the Jeep into through more foggy streets and into late night freeway traffic,
and eventually onto PCH, what Californians affectionately call the Pacific
Coast Highway (Highway 1).
Knightblade looks around the car before deciding that he has to ask the
question that has been on his mind, "Golden Avenger, I know this may
not be the best time, but... just how good of a chess player is Alex Richardson?"
"Looking to win that $367?" laughs the Golden Avenger. "He's
really good. The last I heard, his rating was 2547. He consistently beats
me, anyway. Did you know that he still competes?"
As Knightblade and the Golden Avenger discuss the finer points of chess
stratagems, Odyssey turns in her seat so she can look Protector straight
in the eye and is suddenly struck by incongruity of the scene before her.
Crammed into the back of the Golden Avenger's Jeep are three men who would
look out of place even at a costume ball. Knightblade's armor, while extremely
cool to look at, takes on a slightly humorous air when it is forced into
the crowded confines of the vehicle. His knees must be killing him. The
back seat of the Cherokee doesn't have that much leg room. Combine
this with a grizzled, gun-toting investigator and a superhero who looks
like a combination of Indiana Jones and a WW II fighter pilot and you get
a picture that even Picasso would have to call unusual. However, if Picasso
painted it, Protector's nose would end up somewhere on Knightblade's chin.
"Protector, I've been thinking about what you said about how things
are different here then they were when you left," says Odyssey, struggling
to find words that won't ignite another heated debate like the one at the
house. "Do you think that this world, the one we are all in now, is
not the world that you suddenly disappeared from those years ago?"
"Sure, this world may look and feel almost like your world. It could
even have some of the same people. But then there are the little differences.
With all this talk of dimensional gateways and alternate Earths, I think
you may have been in three different world - your original Earth, the 1940s
WWII Earth you fell into and now this Earth. That would explain the differences
in our timeline from what you remember."
"Actually it wasn't years ago that I... well, disappeared. Nobody
even knew I was missing, so I don't think it was more than a couple of
hours that passed while I was gone. As for the other things, I don't honestly
know. I could guess, but it would only be that... a guess." He stares
out the window for a moment and looks at her again. "I'm sorry I blew
up at you back there before. I really have to come to grips with the fact
that things are different. I did that once, got settled and happy in my
new situation, then bang, everything blew up and here I am again."
"Thank you for saying your sorry," Odyssey says. I know that
wasn't easy to do in front everyone, she thinks. "I'm partly to blame
too. I'm afraid one of my terrible qualities is being rather abrupt. I
tend to just blurt out what I'm thinking, usually without and forethought.
But if it's any comfort, at least you know now, I'll never lie to you."
Then, hoping to avoid that drop in conversation that usually accompanies
discussions about feelings, Odyssey moves seamlessly into other topics
of conversation.
"Do you want to go back to that other Earth?" she asks Protector.
"I really don't know how I could, to be honest. I've thought about
it, but..." he pauses, composing the complexity of his problem into
words. "The only way the world I left could exist, is if I never left
it right? So if I get back there, would there be two of me?"
"You may not necessarily have been replaced by another you,"
Odyssey says. "That implies that every world has some version of you
present. I could see an argument that the amount of energy has to remain
constant between these alternate Earths, but that the unique distribution
of that energy does not. It's like a painting. The painting is there but
maybe on one Earth it's a Picasso and on another it's a Da Vinci or someone
we've never heard of. Or maybe it's not a painting at all. Maybe it's a
chipmunk."
"Would I lose all my memories, which seems to be happening to me now,
here." Protector says. "Everything is clear right now, because
it's in the forefront of my mind, but when I relax I begin to remember
things wrong - the way they are here, I mean, and catch myself. Its a frightening
issue..." He pauses again, not realizing how uncomfortable this idea
made him until he voiced it to Odyssey. "I don't want to lose my memories.
That life is mine, not the alternate one that's creeping in on me
while I'm not looking..."
"Perhaps your body is naturally adjusting to life in this world,"
Odyssey says, looking thoughtful.
"That's been my assumption, so far," Protector replies.
"Or it could be a natural affect of all this dimensional travel. Who
knows. If all this is the aftereffects of some spell, perhaps it is that
spell that is affecting your memory," she adds.
"How would I know if it was a spell?" Protector asks. "Who
would do something like that?"
"Who is to say," Ralph adds from the middle of the backseat,
"that anyone is? Maybe you're like that 'Quantum Leap' fellow, who
kept jumping around, setting things right. Maybe it's intrinsic to your
powers."
"But I never had any powers until that weird fog showed up.
Until after I was transported."
"That's what I mean, Protector," Ralph continues. "Maybe
that started the whole thing off. You didn't have any powers beforehand,
so why have them after, unless they're a part of it."
"Are you saying that... I called the fog to come and get me?"
his jaw (as strong as it is), hangs half open in surprise.
"No, that's not what I mean at all," Ralph answers. "I'm
saying that when it got you it may have triggered something latent, that's
all. Or that whatever sent you back triggered them."
"Well personally, I think you had your powers before this fog showed
up," Odyssey pipes in to add. "Sure they may have manifested
themselves more in this other Earth. Powers just don't appear unless they're
tied to a magical item. You're not hefting around the piece of the true
cross and not telling us are you?"
"That's a good point," says the Golden Avenger from the driver's
seat. Outside the fog is so thick he has to put the windshield wipers on.
"Maybe since you were transported magically -- however that happened
-- you've become a walking magical item. Maybe the reason lots of these
events are happening in the Bay Area is because you're a conduit of some
sort."
"Great Caesar's Ghost!" Protector exclaims and turns to Ralph.
"You don't really think so do you?"
Ralph shrugs. "It is a possibility. I've been tracking the rest of
the country, but the Bay Area has an incredible amount of these things
happening here, and no where else in the world currently is it that high.
It could be you, it could be the fact that there is an active cult here.
But who knows?"
"Ralph's right," Knightblade says, "It is a possibility,
but I think you're reversing cause and effect. I don't believe the events
are here because of Protector. I think Protector is here because of the
events."
"Consider this, Protector goes into the past and when he returns magic
has suddenly changed from plentiful to rare. Obviously, somehow his presence
in the past caused the results that the Spell of Protection was supposed
to achieve."
"Now the world is threatened again in almost exactly the same fashion,
and Protector shows up again. It's entirely possible, Protector... that
you are the Spell of Protection."
"... Are we there yet?" Protector says.
Odyssey looks over at the Golden Avenger just in time to note him rolling
his eyes, as he downshifts. "No, just about, though," he answers,
catching her wink back at him and shaking his head slightly. And a few
short moments later, he pulls the Jeep off the road. "We'll have to
walk from here," he says.