“Oh man, what do you think of this?” Hayley Pemberton asked as she presented herself to her friend Yolanda Montez. “I managed to tighten up the formula for your polish AND added two new colors, we'll have to test them out later this weekend. What do you think?”
Yolanda sinuously stretched herself out on Hayley's bed. She chuckled at the excited face as she looked over the green top and black jeans being shown off. “Sounds great, can't wait. It's been a big help.” She looked idly at her hand now, and let her claws slip out and then back into place. “As for the rest, well...” She shrugged, not sure what to say.
“C'mon! You can tell me!”
“This is your first date, chica, are you sure you don't want to, y'know...dress up a bit?” Yolanda encouraged the teen. “Maybe try out a skirt, or something. I mean, it's your excuse to gussy up.”
“'Gussy'?” Hayley laughed and stepped back into her bathroom and shut the door. “You've been spending too much time with Greg!”
“Tal vez,” Yolanda said. “He's got that way about him,” she laughed with her friend. “Doesn't change anything now.”
“Here, a skirt, happy? I think it's the only one, so you better be,” she grumbled as she stomped out of the bathroom. “What do you do on a date, anyway?” She looked over in the mirror, Yolanda moving up behind her. “I happened to catch something strange in Mickey with my goggles the other day in practice. I think he might have nanites or something.” She turned back to face the tall woman and sighed now.
Yolanda, Hayley grumbled to herself,
is perfect. Man, I want to be perfect. I mean, jeez, no wonder guys are falling over themselves.“I remember when we bought that skirt. I said you'd find a reason to wear it. Isn't making Mickey's eyes fall out of his head a good reason?” She asked Hayley. She laughed as she struggled to keep up with the multiple conversations the young lady was having. “Just happened to see something? And do you really want to know what
I do on a date?”
Hayley blushed at the last question and went back into her closet to find a better shirt to match the skirt, trudging through the layers of clothes already littering her floor. “Well, no. I mean, everyone knows what you do on a date. I mean, just in general, what do other people do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you and Ollie--”
“Go on patrols. Those are hardly dates.” Yolanda folded up her arms and humphed now.
“Well yeah, but
after, you two--”
Yolanda coughed and interrupted Hayley. “Just be yourself. You're going to a movie, and then a nice dinner and you'll hold hands and laugh and get to know each other. That's it. I mean, it's just hanging out with a friend, just a friend you get kind of..um...”
“Gooshy over?” Hayley asked.
“That's a word for it, I guess.”
“Wait, you think Mickey's going to find this hot?” Yolanda laughed as Gimmick's super-fast brain slowed down enough to listen. She looked back into the mirror now and rifled through the pile of junk on her dresser top. “I guess I get it now. I can be me all the time, but tonight, I could be like, girly me?” She sighed, her chin plopping onto her hands, elbows on the dresser. She blew out a frustrated puff of air that knocked around a couple of red-and-lavender curls.
“Lacking some razzle-dazzle?” Yolanda asked, green eyes alight with mischief. “Maybe that's why I brought this.” She pulled her hand out from her pocket, and fastened a delicate golden chain around Hayley's neck. The teen gazed in wonder at the brilliant tiger eye heart that hung from the chain, small but brilliant.
“Really?” Her fingers toyed with it, eyes welling up as she did.
“I wore it on my first date. When I just held hands, and maybe kissed a boy, and got gooshy,” she said and gave a sisterly hug from behind. “Knock 'em dead, hermanita.” She tousled the curly locks and explained, “Little sister. Always wanted one.” She headed out the door and called back, “You'll do!”
*7S*
“There has to be some kind of irony involved with a noble that's uncomfortable being pampered in style,” Sally Bonner said as the three of them exited the sleek dark blue sedan.
“I am a knight, and a knight-errant at that,” Justin explained. “Not landed nobles with their houses full of servants.”
They stared up the broad steps to the glassy, curved modern skyscraper. “Hard to believe Wing has a place like this, huh?” Sally chuckled as she watched her friends' reactions.
“I must admit, when he discussed his family's activities, and how far back they reached, this was not where I imagined them being quartered,” Justin replied.
“Yeah, these are some fancy digs. I didn't realize he was so rich, either,” Brenda admitted as they walked up the stairs now.
“Who'd have thought being a superhero paid so well,” Sally whispered with a chuckle.
The trio entered the glassed-in lobby and there met with Maya, who looked as striking as ever in a well-tailored business suit of dark red. She greeted Sally first, then Justin, with an inviting look, and maneuvered them to the rear elevators.
“Sally, you look quite good. Your stay in Texas has served you well, I see,” Maya said in that smooth-as-silk voice as she admired Sally's appearance, tanned and happy. “And Sir Justin, it is an honor to host you here. I am sorry Travis is not around, but he is out on a research trip.
They stepped into the elevator and Maya turned to look at the third member of the party. “And you must be Brenda Martin. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Martin. Our home is your home. If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Thanks. I'm just Brenda though, it's okay. Maya, right? It's very cool being here.” They shook hands and she noticed how smooth and unworked the exotic woman's grip felt, but also noticed an odd strength in it.
“I am glad to hear that, Brenda. We'll have a full tour a little later, and then dinner in the penthouse. But first,” Maya winked at Sally, “I gather you're all very excited to see if I can help you pinpoint the search for something important?”
They got off the elevator and Maya led them down several long carpeted corridors. “Yeah, she's eager to get Bradamante's spear back, the sooner the better. And I thought that there's this whole room you guys have for finding Lee, maybe--”
“You thought that someone might know how to adapt it,” Maya finished. “Fortunately, I helped to develop the ritual. I think we can find a way to do just as you think.”
“That would be most welcome news,” Justin said now as he clapped a hand on Brenda's shoulder. “My apprentice here, she aches to be whole in spirit.”
Brenda blushed with the attention suddenly thrown on her. “It's really appreciated, you doing all this for us. I know it's a bit out of the Line of Wing's usual stuff.”
“I am happy to help,” Maya said as she opened the door to the divination room used by Wing. “On one condition.”
“A condition?” Sally was surprised to hear such a thing from Maya. “What do you mean?”
“Relax. I just want to accompany you,” she assured them. “If you don't mind a hanger-on attaching herself. I just heard the word quest and felt a desire to get out there, and
do something while Travis goes off on his own adventures behind my back.”
Sally chuckled and the other two glanced at each other curiously. “I'm down with it,” Brenda replied with a shrug. “More the merrier, I say. It'll be a fun way to bond. Kind of a shame Hayley and Yolanda aren't able to join us, we could make a real girls' trip!”
“Oh man, wouldn't that have rocked?” Sally agreed as Justin stood off to one side. “Now I wanna know where we're going.”
Justin gave a polite cough as the two women traded vacation spots that included drinks with little umbrellas and lounges to stretch out on. He coughed once more.
“Some phlegm in your throat, Justin?” Brenda teased him now.
“Maya, can we begin this undertaking, before the ladies run away with themselves?”
Maya chuckled and nodded. “Let's begin.”
*7S*
“Hello there, young man,” the elderly woman's voice called out to Wing Travis. They were in a small park, a tiny patch of green gated off from the large gray city around it. At the center of the park, looming over Wing's position, stood the weathered statue of the Crimson Avenger. The tarnished plaque at its base continued to taunt the young man.
IN HONOR OF
THE CRIMSON AVENGER
WHO CAME TO THE CITY’S AID
WHEN IT NEEDED HIM MOST,
THE PEOPLE OF GOTHAM BESTOW UPON HIM
THEIR ETERNAL GRATITUDE.
“Well, fine then,” the old woman harumphed and started to walk away.
“I'm sorry,” Wing called out. “Please, my apologies,” he said again. He turned to face her as she stopped and looked back. She was a small thing, fragile to even look at, and clutched her purse. “Hello,” he said and smiled at her.
“That statue really has a hold on you, doesn't it, young man?” She walked back and settled onto a bench. “I've seen you visit it several times these last few months.”
“You've noticed?” He walked over to her then crouched down. “Is it that often?”
“Often enough to know there's something going on. I don't recognize you from the neighborhood. You live in Gotham at all?” she asked now as she settled her purse on her lap and toyed with the straps.
“No. I live in New York, actually. My name is Travis.” He held his hand out to her now and she gave it a perfunctory shake.
“Nice to meet you, Travis. You don't see too many Travises anymore, I must say.” She took out a small tin. “Would you like a candy?” She popped a red one into her mouth.
“Thank you, no. And no, not too many Travises.”
“Why do you keep coming back here? How do you even know this place is here, coming all the way from New York?”
Travis stood and looked back at the statue now, his hands stuffed into jacket pockets. “I'm a big fan of the Crimson Avenger. I've read all his exploits.”
“Do you have the magazines?” she asked with great interest. “My husband loved those old stories. They were from the Forties, you probably never heard of it. But they put them out as novels back in the Sixties? Seventies? I forget. But my husband Garry, bless his soul, he'd know. He collected them all.”
“I have them all, actually, ma'am,” Wing answered with a bit of delight on his face. “My family collected them, and I've inherited it all. Sorry about your husband.”
“Garry was a good man,” she said now. “I'm Esther. He passed five years back now. In a month, it'll be five years back.”
“You must live around here if you can figure out I don't but visit all the time.” Travis turned back to her. He saw her nod and asked, “Do you know?”
“Know what, Travis?”
“Why?” He pointed at the statue behind him. “All the things I know about the Crimson Avenger, and I can't find any answer about why this statue. He has no history in Gotham City. But it's here. And it's treated well. The park is kept up, and I know this city, it's not the parks commission doing it.”
“He saved us all.” She looked past him now, at the statue. “That's the story.”
“Could you tell it to me?” he asked, and settled onto the bench next to her. “Please? I need to know.”
“It's a secret. It's something special to us, here in Greenway. It's our story. Our treasure.” She looked Wing in the eyes and smiled at him. “The day he sacrificed his family to save us all.”
“His family?” She saw the surprise in Wing's face.
“It's said it was his brother. A cruel man driven by circumstance to be wicked to others. I was a child back then, barely eight. I was aware of things happening, fire trucks and police cars screaming in the night. Fire tore through a ghetto, and the Crimson Avenger burned as he saved them all. He wasn't seen for months after that. We thought he'd died, and erected the statue in his honor. He'd survived, of course, but needed to heal. His brother vanished that night, and we knew he'd died in his own horrible scheming. The Avenger could have chosen blood over strangers, but he didn't. He saved them all.”
Wing listened to the story, and stared at the statue again. “That's not all, is it?”
“No. But it's late and I'm an old woman, and I'm too tired for stories.” She stood up now. “Next time. You come, and I'll have tea, Travis.”
Wing stood with her and offered an arm. “Let me walk you home, Esther. And you can tell me about Greenway as we go.”
*7S*
The iron tower stood quiet, dark, rusted and ancient, tucked into the one of the valleys of the Pyrenees. The nearby snowcapped peaks of this cirque fed the cold clear waters to the fast-moving river, the only witnesses to this forgotten citadel before the waters plunged over the sides to form a spectacular waterfall.
This was the point on a faraway map in New York City that Brenda Martin discerned with the help of her friends. It was within this tower that the magic touched a bygone remnant of something else, and it stirred in response. Wisps of something blew through the empty halls, gathered together in skeins of preternatural mist and eventually took the shape of a man.
Clothes of a lost time wrapped up this shade of a man, and a strange stooped bearing wore on its appearance. It moved slowly through the tower that it called home in its life, passed through this wall and that floor and inexorably approached a large round chamber. Floors, ceilings and walls bore timeworn etchings holding occult secrets and antiquated power.
The figure stood in the center, and silently screamed words into the air. A silence that went unanswered by the eerie quiet of the tower, and the etching slumbered in response. The stoop increased and the figure knelt and clutched his head in soundless wailing grief. Then one particular sigil stared at him and he stopped his angst and stood again. From his spectral belt he drew forth a ritual dagger; he held his left hand high above the floor, and with a determined sweep of that blade, sliced the hand from his form and let it fall to the floor.
It splashed on the floor, and seeped across the sigils, into the etchings, the ectoplasmic essence taking the place of his lost voice. There was a cough from someplace, some time, far distant, but over the minutes it came closer, then closer and finally settled into the ghost's throat.
“She knows it is here,” the apparition said as the magic of the room slid apart sections of the floor. “The time has come, as the Book of Fates promised me. As I have promised you, the time approaches!” The voice grew in strength, in fury, as it watched another figure claw out from one opened section. Draped in blackened chain, the man bore a heraldry of a winged silver serpent against the jet links. Thick shaggy locks hung around a cruel face and hard black eyes that shook off the strange magical slumber that had guarded him.
“Do not badger me, haunt!” the man said as he stood tall and stretched himself to alertness. Joints crackled and dust shook from his barrel-chested physique. “I will be ready. Very ready.” He stomped across the hall, the ghost staring after him the whole way, and watched as the warrior plunged his hand into a second hole the magic had released. He drew out a spear from its depths, at first glimpse a normal weapon of antiquity. But closer on its shaft were tiny markings of ownership, while the spearhead was undimmed by the passage of centuries. The markings flared in bitter reaction to its bearer, but it didn't matter at all to the black knight.
“It does not like you, Sir Breuse sans Pitie,” the ghost said with a cackle.
“It cries for its mistress, Atlantes,” he said with a lusting smile under the thick beard. “But like any other woman, I'll show it what it really wants.”
The pair laughed, hearts as cold, hard and unrelenting as the iron fortress that shielded them.
*7S*
The girl with waist-length purple hair and golden-hued eyes fairly skipped across the street, ignoring the traffic and flitting through the crowds as they let out of the movie house. She caught just about everyone's gaze with the short skirt, the fishnet tights, her strap sandals and daring top. Dressed to kill in a metropolitan nightclub, she stuck out in the small-town Texan movie crowd, as did the sleek silver cadillac she slipped into with such abandon.
“What a frickin' awesome movie! I am
so glad I decided to see it,” she said. She flopped into the backseat, tossed one curvy leg over the other and started to straighten out the loose locks of hair. “There was this guy, see, and he--”
“I don't care,” said the man who sat next to her. He snapped his fingers, the accelerator depressed, the wheel turned, and the car sped out into the main thoroughfare of Dos Rios. “All I care about is that we have not lost track of our targets.”
She sighed as a compact floated in front of her now, and let her adjust her makeup on the bronzed face. “Please! As if! I put a locator on them, we'll know exactly where they're going. Oh, and I have to add 'UGH!' Seriously, those two? They're so...sweet! Gag-a-licious!” She stuck a finger in her throat before returning to her makeup.
“You're the one letting them live longer, Witchazel,” the man said in a dark voice now. She looked over at him when he used her formal name. Dark green eyes blazed with frustration, short dark hair swept back on his head, a goatee carefully pointed on his chin, a monochrome deep red suit; the man dressed to impress as he sat there upright, demanding, hands on the top of his cane. “You're only doing this to yourself.”
“Oh man, here we go again,” she sighed and looked away. She put up her slacker facade, as she slapped the compact closed and shoved it into a handbag. “Listen, since becoming your apprentice, Freddy--” She felt something make her look at him, and the eyes literally blazed now, greenish sparks in them. “Mr. Vaux, sir, since I started, I ain't had any time to have fun. You want me to have fun, right? That's part of this whole shebang, right?”
His own countenance didn't waver, but inside he felt a bit of pride at her argument. “Regardless, there is a time-table, and we need them in our grip.” He watched archly at her giggle. “What's so funny?”
“Time-table. I mean, the whole thing with them is kind of about undoing all this time stuff, right? So it's kinda funny to be on a time-table with time.” She shrugged and her smile fell off. “I thought it was funny.”
“Then go apprentice with the Joker,” Vaux snapped. “Where are they?”
“Oh man, this is kinda funny,” Witchazel answered and then coughed and pretended to get all serious. “I mean, this suddenly became rather eye-rawn-ick.” She adjusted her voice to mock her mentor, then added a saucy wink. “They've gone to eat at the Roundup.” She adjusted her shirt, undoing a button to show off the silver metallic bra underneath. “Which is
awesome!! I've heard he's got a killer chef!”
The car pulled into the lot of Greg Saunders' restaurant, the tinted windows hiding the lack of a driver. “We are here to kidnap--”
“Hey! I haven't eaten since that burger at lunch,” Witchazel countered. “And I ain't eaten in a fancy-ass place like this in...well, I turn eighteen in two months, so there!” She stuck her tongue out at Fredric as she popped the door open. “So gimme money!”
“You are joking?” The eyes glared at her again.
“Duh!” She smacked her forehead and laughed. “Right! Terror and panic and statements of power, blah, blah, blah! I'll just have them make me something or I turn 'em into toads! Sorry about that, boss.”
He shook his head in disdain. “Just make sure you do this right. The fear is essential, as is their willing surrender.”
“Gotcha! Say, you want me to bring you back something? I can get something to go. I mean, you ain't eaten all day either.”
“I'll be fine, thank you.”
“Okey-doke! You just sit here and relax! Listen to some music or something. Be back in a sec!” Witchazel strutted up to the main door of the restaurant and flung it open. She drew out a star-tipped wand from seeming nowhere and before the host could say a word, it had flared to life to fling him into the main dining room.
“Heya! How's it going, gals and pals? I'm Witchazel, I'll be your super-villain for the evening!” She told the quiet room of diners who stared now in shock. She swept her arm, and the wand lit up bright red, causing every glass in the room to explode into violent shards. The quiet shattered with the glasses, cries of pain and fear making her feel warm inside. “Now, for my next trick, I'm going to need a pair of volunteers from the audience! How about...” She paused dramatically, gazed over the room and then pointed her wand at a table. “...you? And you?”
Miguel DeVante and Hayley Pemberton watched her mark them out and started to stand up in reaction, but the table caught fire and forced them back. “Hey! I'll tell you when you can move, and it ain't yet! See, if you try anything, that fire starts to eat up these customers, and you goody-goody heroes don't want that, do you?” She grinned, then used the wand to lash out and grab a waiter, dragged him to her and added, “Besides, I need to make a to-go order. So bring me a menu!”
*7S*
The battered red pick-up truck pulled in at the Cotulla diner, idled for a few moments then came to a rattling stop. Oliver Queen and Yolanda Montez stepped out and glanced around, the evening shadows giving odd shapes and interesting movement to the mostly-empty lot around them.
They entered the eatery, and watched the half-dozen regulars pay them even grudging notice before returning to their dinners. They walked to the far end and slid into a booth where Rafael Sandoval sat, attempting to blend in with the locals.
“Mr. Queen, Ms. Montez,” he said quietly as he signaled for cups of coffee. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sure,” Ollie said, clipped and surly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sandoval,” Yolanda answered more graciously. “Pardon my guy here, he's grumpy that I wouldn't let him drive.”
Ollie shot her a glance, but then settled for ordering a hamburger from the waitress. After a request for a BLT from Yolanda and Caesar salad from Rafael, the three were alone again. “So what brings us to historic Cotulla?” Ollie asked.
“Mr. Saunders told you about our conversation, right?” Sandoval sipped his coffee as he glanced around at the worn and tired looking eatery again.
The two of them chuckled, and Yolanda mocked, “'Mr. Saunders'. That's cute.”
“Yeah, he said you were one of the good guys,” Ollie said. “Wanted to help, which is good, because things are getting dicier for certain people at this table.”
“Getting so a girl can't go out in her Sunday-go-to-meeting best,” she said with a bitter laugh. “'course that says we're on the right track, so I can't complain too much.”
“But you are anyway,” Rafael replied with a smirk. “Listen, we're trying to get the straight dirt on this El Papagayo. He's big. Big news. But he's hard to get better intel on. That Sanchez girl you guys nabbed a week back? We got a little out of her, but not enough to do anything serious.”
“What are you saying? That you're gonna let Greg down?” Ollie hissed and then the table went silent as the food was delivered.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked without even looking at them.
“We're good, thanks,” Ollie grumped and peeked under the bun at his burger. She shrugged and headed back to the counter.
“I'm not letting anyone down,” Rafael said with a bit more bitterness. “We did get something out of her. But it's nothing we can use. In fact, if you two don't move on it fast, it may just up and vanish before any good comes of it.” He slid over a thumb drive.
Yolanda picked it up, rolled it in her fingers with a smirk. “What's this?”
“The file.” Sandoval answered between bites of limp lettuce. He looked at Ollie, then at Yolanda. “Oh come on. You really don't have a laptop?”
“Not our style,” Ollie said. “I got people for that.” He chewed on his burger and added, “Well, had people. I guess.”
“Right. We're the muscle. You've got the wrong soldiers here,” Yolanda answered. “Besides, I'm not putting stolen Federal papers on my laptop, and then having people wonder how La Garra happened to show up there. Seriously! Greg might be sharing secrets with you, but I do wear a mask for a reason, tío.”
<“It's wearing a mask that's got you in so much trouble, so ease up on the attitude. I'm on your side, kitty cat.”>* Sandoval replied in Spanish as Yolanda bristled and Ollie just grumbled further. “I'm trying to help. So listen, 'cause I'm only saying this once. There's a rancher down outside of Laredo, name of Trent Garson. He's also eyes and ears for the DEA, monitoring the border.” Sandoval's voice got quieter and he leaned in closer now. “But Paloma said he's turned, and actually one end of a pipeline for cartels in the area. The DEA doesn't want to hear this for whatever classified reasons, so we can't do a damned thing about it, but she's certain to have gotten word that his cover could be blown and to get the hell out.”
Ollie leaned back and finished the coffee. “He can't move too fast though, or he would definitely blow his cover. You can't just pack up something like a ranch that fast.”
“Right, but he will get out of there. Unless something trips him up first. But as I said, my office's hands are tied, as are the local cops.” Sandoval signaled for the check, then slipped the waitress two twenties. “Nothing we can do.”
“Right. Nothing
you can do.” Yolanda had that hungry look in her face despite the sandwich, and slid out of the booth. Ollie followed her out. “Thanks for dinner. We'll go and pick up dessert.” She winked at him and sauntered out, drawing the regulars' attentions. Ollie noticed that it did keep anyone from really noticing their faces as they returned to the truck.
“I'm driving,” Ollie insisted. “It's a haul out to Laredo from here. And you already did the hike from Dos Rios.”
“Lo que sea.” She tossed him the keys. “Just be careful. And don't think this means you're driving the bike when we get to work.”
The truck squealed in reverse, then roared out of the lot, as the two headed back for the highway, night descending, and destination in hand.
*7S*
The quartet of adventurers hauled themselves up higher and higher into the stunning and craggy Pyrenees, the cold wind and clear bright day giving a picturesque tableau for their efforts.
Brenda Martin led the way, skilled in climbing and already possessed of the equipment. Maya and Sally followed; less skilled at the art, they struggled to keep up, but they were young, athletic, and loved the challenge. It was Sir Justin that followed last. Despite Maya's healing touches on the trip over the Atlantic, his knee still slowed him down. But he didn't let that get to him, instead focused on watching the women come together as a team, and as friends.
“Wing better watch himself,” Brenda called down from one ledge, and looked down to guide her companions. “You two are gonna replace him if he's not careful.” She grinned, cheeks red and eyes alight with excitement. She grabbed Sally's hand to help her up over the lip, then did the same for Maya.
“I must admit, it's been too long since I let myself go out on the field,” Maya said as she took a deep breath. “It was more common before the Soldiers arrived. I would act as his chauffeur and pilot, but with Pat's flying car or Winged Victory to use, I've not been needed so much. And then Sally doing such a great job as Scarlet.” She winked at the other woman and made her shrink from the compliment.
“I said you could do it if you wanted,” Sally countered with a laugh as she now helped Justin up onto the small ridge. “You're better at it then me, anyway. I've got tons to learn.”
“That's not what Wing said to me,” Justin assured her as he bent over now, taking a deep breath to recover from the steep cliff. “He sang your praises in the battle with the nefarious Russians and this rogue Avenger. Even by your own admission, you strove to save her from her madness. A true heroine.”
“Okay, enough seeing how much we can make Sally here blush,” Brenda chided the group. “We all agree she's a great addition to the Line and Soldiers and all. Now then. I think we're pretty close to our destination. From here, I think we just need to get up over that next rise, and we'll be...” Her voiced trailed off as she stared up at that ridge, then looked across what they've already traveled.
“Everything okay?” Maya asked with a hand at the back of her shoulders.
“This just started to feel very familiar, that's all,” Brenda answered almost reverently.
“Means we're on the right track!” Sally clapped and then the four of them began the next stage of the climb.
The four of them continued now, a renewed sense of purpose drove them faster up the rough slopes, until they crested the steep cirque and stared at the strange structure perched near a glittering waterfall. Brenda froze in shock as she stared at the sight, then trembled some. Maya held her hand and squeezed it to support her.
“You recognize yonder tower?” Justin asked quietly.
“Atlantes,” she whispered. “An ancient sorcerer, he held one of my...one of Bradamantes' allies captive within, torturing him with illusions until we brought him low. How did my spear end up here?”
“How indeed?” The voice roared the question, thick and furious, as snow and dirt erupted from the side. A shaggy bear of a man lunged from his hiding spot, and a thick shoulder barreled into Maya, while he swung the thick spear's shaft into Sally's midsection. “Too bad you can never learn the answer, your own ghosts wailing uselessly in this vale forever more!”
Maya tumbled back over the edge, a shower of shale followed in her wake, as the heavy coat caught the worst of the swing for Sally. Her insides still felt like jelly. She dropped to her knees, and clutched herself.
“I can not believe my eyes!” Sir Justin declared as he drew the sword on his back and blocked the second blow meant to dispatch Sally. With his skill and strength, he shoved the enemy weapon to the side and forced the attacker back a step. “You survive to this day? How?”
“Sir Justin? Can that truly be you?” The evil knight looked shocked at the sight There stood one of Camelot's bright warriors, shrugging out of his jacket. “The Shining Knight shines on into this far future? I had assumed you ran into the outskirts of Arthur's kingdom to live your life as a meager coward!”
“Coward? There is but one coward in this land, and it is you, Sir Breuse!” Justin engaged him in battle, weapons crashing together. Justin gave a growl of frustration as his blade, able to slice nearly anything, failed to even chip the strange spear.
“Breuse?” Brenda asked as she grabbed Sally away from the battling warriors.
“Without Pity. An evil knight of the time,” Maya answered in a gasp, as she struggled back up onto level ground. “The only evil knight to never really get justice.”
“It does my heart good to know that there is still stupid chivalry to cut down in this ridiculous time,” Breuse said as he stabbed at Arthur, then stepped back to avoid a slash from his foe, the two feeling each other out.
“He's not alone in that,” Brenda said as she stepped away from the other two women. “I think you'll find there's more stupidity then you're really prepared for.” She gestured as if pulling her own spear out, though none appeared yet. What did appear was the burnished breast-plate, and the deep red and bronze of Bradamante, her shield on her arm, and an eager grin on her face. “As you are starting to see, I suspect. And by the by, I'll have my spear back!”
“You? I struck poorly then,” the pitiless knight scoffed as he backtracked. He watched as Maya's hands surged with warmth on Sally's shoulders, and the other woman stood now. The two were not so well-trained as himself and his two martial foes, but they could hold themselves. That was obvious to him. He needed to regroup, and so Breuse swung the spear point upward, dragged it across the nearby cliff face as he backpedaled.
When the rock wall started to crash down on them, Bradamante darted up front and held her shield high. She held herself strong, and deflected the landslide from her allies, as Breuse retreated.
“As evil and treacherous a warrior as you will ever face,” Justin finally said as they clambered over the rubble. “Sir Breuse sans Pitie, without pity, and he is here, in this time. How?”
“Answers will have to wait until I can wrest my spear back from his foul hands!” Bradamante declared as she ran toward the target, Justin close behind.
“I'm fine, Maya, we have to keep up,” Sally said as she shook off the rest of the pain and also began to run. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” the exotic woman said as she followed the group now. They pursued the large man, who proved slower and they closed the gap as he approached the tower.
“Persistent, but lovely,” the black knight called out as he swept the spear in an arc between himself and the incoming group. The blade tore through the ground and showered them in dirt and rock. Blinded by the assault, he lunged back at them. The spear point tore into the Shining Knight's sword arm, then he pivoted the weapon so the shaft then knocked Justin backward and shoved the flat of the broad metal head into Bradamante's back, throwing her face first into the ground. “Your spear needed convincing, but is mighty indeed in my hands now. Shall the same be said of you?” He laughed at the fallen warrior woman.
Brenda rolled onto her back and clapped her hands together on the spearhead, held it in place and stared up at Breuse. She knew she had only to wait, for a brief moment in time, but an eternity in battle. He thrust into her with all his might, but her hands on her weapon convinced it to stay its strike for that surreal two-fold moment.
“Hey you big jerk, forget someone?” Sally shouted as she leaped at his side. She grunted in pain, air whooshed form her lungs, as she felt like she slammed into a wall. She had, for his thick chest and arms were muscle, and she failed to move him.
“Get away from me, woman!” he demanded as he tried to shift his stance and the weapon to brush Sally away. That was his mistake, for Maya had come up from behind and an artful kick to his knee, off-balance from Sally's tackle, caused Breuse to fall away from Brenda.
She kicked up onto her feet, her hands tossed up the spear and she caught it again, wielded properly now as the four converged on the black knight. “Well, this has been enjoyable, but I must be departing! Much to see in my new home, so I bid you all adieu for the nonce!” He backtracked from the encroaching Soldiers, then leaped out into space, arrowing down toward the rushing river streaming from the base of the waterfall.
“We should pursue him, we can not allow his shadow to stain this time,” Justin said as one hand clutched the bleeding wound on his bicep.
“We can't be separated, not now,” Bradamante said, fingers squeezed tightly around the shaft. “We'll catch up to him, but for the moment, the tower must be answered. Atlantes survives, and we can't let him summon up more fiends.”
*7S*
The rented limousine rolled through the gates of Stellar Studios in Hollywood, California. The old compound had recently become a buzzing center as construction brought the place back to life, refurbished, prepared to step back into the world of entertainment. That was the gossip, as everyone knew. TMZ, OMG!, E! News, even such older standards as Variety, all knew this to be the case. Stellar Studios was primed for a comeback.
These same sources would be very curious to understand the purpose of the person in the limousine. Not a star producer, or trendy director, or A-list actor; within the backseat sat Doctor Elizabeth Chapel, currently the house doctor for the legendary Justice Society of America. So these sources would scratch their collective heads to understand her presence. For that fact, Dr. Chapel scratched her head as well.
“Dr. Chapel, we're so glad you could make it out here,” Sylvester Pemberton said as he and Pat Dugan greeted her after the car rolled to a stop before one of the rearmost buildings. He shook her hand and then Pat offered his before he took her bags from the driver.
“Thanks, it's nice to be here,” she said as she adjusted her sunglasses in the mid-day glare. “Especially for the weather. It's been a bit of a mess out in New York lately.” She followed the two gentlemen into the building, all the while looking around her closely. “I would love to know why I'm out here enjoying the sun however. I can only guess by the, uh...generous fee that there's some kind of medical emergency?”
“Emergency might be a strong word, but yeah, we have a situation,” Syl said as the two of them talked. Pat turned off down another corridor to take her bags to her room. “I wanted you because you're discreet, you clearly know how to handle powers since you work for the JSA, and I want the best for Danette.”
The two of them stopped in a room turned into a surprisingly modern small medical facility. “Whoa! I wasn't expecting this. What sort of movies are you planning to make that you have a place like this?” She walked around, looked over the equipment and gave a low whistle. “This place has got it as good as the JSA infirmary.”
“Better, I'm hoping,” Syl said with pride. He leaned on at the doorway, arms folded over his chest with a smug grin. “Put a lot of money into this whole facility, not just the med-bay. I've got plans, you see. And I've got some really, really smart people helping me to put it together.”
“Well, let's leave the team chest-beating out of this, and let me know why I'm here then?” she teased him gently. She looked back at the door as Danette arrived at last, looking a little worn. Pat came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, comforting her. “You hinted it was about Mrs. Arthur. So what can I do?”
“I'm Firebrand, in case you didn't know that,” Danette said quietly as she walked over to the woman and shook hands. “The other day, while in a fight with Plastique, my powers flared up to a level I'd never reached before. It felt like I was this close to losing control. It hurt Plastique badly, and I'm rather rattled.”
“You're hoping I can get a reading on your powers, and see if we can figure out what caused this flare-up?” Beth surmised as she put down a bulky bag of medical gear and started to pick through it.
“Yeah. There's more to the story, maybe. It might have something to do with it.”
“Okay then, you tell me everything while getting undressed.” She looked at the two men then, as she stood up from her bag and settled the stethoscope on her shoulders. “And you two, out.”
“Okay. Anything else you need, just let us know. We'll be working on some other stuff in the building, and you can reach us through the communicators, right here,” Syl said as he patted a panel near the door. “Dann, you take it easy. Doc's gonna take good care of you.”
Pat and Dann gave each other big hugs after Syl had turned to walk out. “You sure?”
“Go, you big galoot. I'll be fine, and we'll talk after,” she assured him, and Pat followed.
When the door had slid closed and Beth secured it, she looked at the red-head. As Danette started to undo her shirt, the doctor held the cup of the scope in her hands to warm it. “Okay then, start from the beginning.”
“Oh boy. That's a long one. There was this woman, the Dragon Queen. You could say she got into my head,” Dann started with a rueful chuckle. Then she continued to tell the tale of the Dragon Queen, the Crimson Avenger's guns, and a brave woman caught in the middle.
*7S*
Bradamante marched on the rusted iron fortress, ignoring the wind and cold that tugged at her. She gripped her spear, reassuringly back in her hand, and shifted her shield into better position as she marched on the main door. The Shining Knight took to her side, putting aside Maya's attempt to heal his wound.
“I will not be mothered on the battlefield,” he insisted when she had tried. “I am a Knight of the Round Table, and long past time I started to behave that way again.”
Sally rolled her eyes up at his words; she and Maya shared an incredulous glance but followed along. They watched the two knights force the doors apart, and storm the building.
“We are here, sorcerer!” Bradamante called out, words bouncing off the metal walls. The quartet struggled to ignore the chill, from altitude, weather and supernatural sources that ate at them. “Show yourself!” She demanded.
Preternatural mists wound their way slowly around her allies' ankles, crept up and started to chill them further as they looked around for the mysterious foe. Bradamante knew this Atlantes, but the other three knew nothing of him. Nor of the tricks he could unleash, as the chill settled past their flesh and bones, then seeped into their hearts and souls instead.
“You know, Justin,” Firebrand said to her husband as she approached him from the cold shadow of the tower, “you were fun back in the Forties, but you're just getting old now and I'm blazing with youth and...I mean, look at Pat, for example. Check out these shoulders.” She leaned into the redheaded mechanic's broad chest and let her fingers run over the powerful arms. “He's got a head for today and you're just kinda, used up, you know? Sorry, sweetie.”
“Yeah, sorry but when are you going back to Camelot, already? Maybe there's a stage production for you to do, maybe even be useful,” Pat jeered him and then kissed Firebrand, a searing kiss that froze Justin in place. His knuckles turned white, and hands shook as he clutched the sword.
“I know you've done a lot, Maya, and I appreciate it, but you're kind of getting beyond yourself,” Wing explained to his right-hand woman. “Not unlike Claudia, when she thought a secretary could have someone as classy and moneyed as Lee Travis. You understand, right?” Maya took a deep breath, let it out slow, struggled to keep her calm, her focus. This was already what she knew, but to have it exposed rattled her.
Sally watched Wing talk to Maya, and failed to hear what he said. The way Maya reacted, it had to be so personal, so close, and why not? She was just an interloper, she knew that. An outsider who didn't belong in the Wing family, wasn't really a Soldier. When she saw the sorcerer release a blast of lightning at Wing, though, she threw herself at him, to save him, but it was too late.
She and Maya watched Wing get blasted into ash and Sally collapsed to her knees. Fingers ran through the remains, as Maya tried to heal him, tried to explain she understood he'd never love her, while Sally felt crushed that she failed Travis when he needed her, how could she fail again, someone she cared for again?
“The same old tricks, Atlantes?” Bradamante mocked the ghostly wizard as she managed to get up onto the broken second floor. There he shimmered and played at the spectral mist below like a puppeteer manipulated strings. “All these centuries dead but trapped in the mortal realm, and all you can think to wield against my allies and I are the same tired old tricks?”
“You call them tired, but I know I have you this time, warrior witch,” Atlantes snarled in return, and flung a bolt of energy to try and throw her off-balance. She deflected it from her with the shield and leaped closer to him. The pitted floor she danced across let her see the three of them, bound up in the mists, shivering with cold from inside and out, the heart-breaking illusions jeering them, and attacked their hearts where most are vulnerable. “After all, you are so alone now, are you not? You have no true love at your side, and the closest to you, he is spoken for.” The wizard japed, a cruel face as he let the magic wash over her.
She looked down to see Justin and Danette in a fierce embrace, so far from her, physically apart as well as emotionally. The bond the two warriors had built together as nothing next to Justin's love for his wife. She turned back to Atlantes with a relaxed and happy look that spooked him. “True love is eternal, dead thing. Mine rests peaceably in his reward, but it is no less ideal, and the image you want to break me with, merely reaffirms this.” She thrust the spear into the ghost and tore at his ethereal matter. “This tower holds you here, and so now, I send you to your reward.”
“No! You do this and your friends will die too!” Atlantes tried to bargain, his hand clutched at his side, where his wound leaked and left him weak and powerless. “Can even you hope to survive? You win this round again, but leave me this!”
Bradamante shook her head and then thrust the spear into the center beam of the tower, tore it apart with all of her strength, with all of her spear's might. “Run!” She screamed to her friends, the alarm in her voice rattling them as the mists fell away with Atlantes' wound.
She rent, and they ran, and the tower buckled. Slowly it creaked that frightening, skin-searing sound of tearing metal, and she leaped away, her shield above her as the spear did its work. The tower smashed into the bank; the raging river grabbed it and hurled it like a vengeful force of nature over the waterfall, to be buried forever. Justin had leaped to safety, but landed on his arm, dazed by the injury. Maya felt snow from the collapse smash into her back and she was momentarily pinned. Bradamante washed down the river, now returned to merely Brenda Martin, and she watched the waterfall loom larger. That was alright, she'd saved her friends and dispatched a wicked wizard.
“Got you this time!” Sally said as she snatched Brenda's arm with both scarred, determined hands. She slid through the snow, her boot kicked at the ground for purchase, and Brenda swung over the edge, but Sally refused to let go. The boot smacked an upturned rock and she pulled back with all her might. Then Justin and Maya were there, and they pulled her back from the edge, then Brenda came up with her. “Got you this time,” she repeated as she fell onto her back in the snow.
“What happened?” Maya asked as she crawled over to Justin and refused to take no for an answer. “Your spear, it's gone?”
“I think I found its limits. For now. It'll be back, I'm still Bradamante,” Brenda said as she lay next to Sally, both women struggling to catch their breath. “Just kind of over-did it is all. We're all good.”
“All good,” Sally repeated and leaned up. “Yeah, I guess so. Mission accomplished.”
“Achievement unlocked,” Brenda confirmed. She started to make a motion with her arms, then legs as she lay in the snow.
“What are you doing?” Justin asked as he watched her now, worried that she'd taken a head injury.
“They're called snow angels. I haven't made one since I was twelve, at my uncle's in New Hampshire, but damned if it doesn't feel like a good time to let my kid out for a moment.” She paused and looked at her friends with a nervous grin.
“Damn right,” Sally agreed and joined her.
*7S*
The guard navigated the perimeter fence, quiet, aware. Swathed in black, a heavy revolver strapped to his waist, he was less a cowboy watching for wild animals then a former soldier who now worked for a private military-security company. He guarded the compound from two-legged animals: rival drug gangs or wannabe hero investigators. A look at his company file showed just how well-regarded he and his fellows on this shift are considered. Until he suddenly and silently collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. That would change his file after this night.
Oliver Queen crept up to the guard and tugged out the slender wooden shaft from the guard's thigh. He had changed into a Lincoln green cowboy shirt and dungarees, black Stetson tugged down low on his brow. La Garra slunk up quietly behind him and eyed the arrow.
“No bolos? Nets? Gas bombs?” she teased him in a sultry whisper.
“Given up on the trick arrows. Mostly. I keep a few, but taser arrows make too much noise, and knockout gas doesn't work so well like in the movies,” Ollie explained. The wooden shaft ended in a simple blackened tip with no arrowhead. “This has a mix of local anesthetic, sedative and coagulant. Perfect for stealth runs.”
“If he's not allergic,” she retorted.
“I'll research hypo-allergenic versions another time,” he shot back.
The pair stared around at their position, just past the wooden palisade, with a large level yard left to cross to reach the ranch house. Lights shone from the building, but there seemed to be enough shadow for them to use. Ollie pointed to the fence, and said, “You skirt the edge here, take out any other guards. I'm gonna go in and you can back me up if there's anything left when you're done.”
She frowned at his cocky smile and shook her head. “This is me they're attacking. My rep at stake. My home.
You take out the guards and come play back-up for me. Entendiste, macho idiota?”
“You know, someday I'm gonna learn Spanish so I can find out what you keep calling me,” he teased her, kissed her and sent her toward the house as he drew another of the sedative arrows for the next guard.
The pair parted and La Garra prowled the yard, slipped into that shadow, slunk over to a bush, ever closer to her goal. Once at the house, she crept along the foundation until she came across a darkened window, extended her claws and traced a circle in the glass. She plucked the disc out and reached in to unlatch it, entering the building quietly. She navigated the study in the half-light, her ears catching sounds of conversations further in the building. She paused at the door, to eavesdrop as she ran through her options. She needed something incriminating, and it had to be more than just some guns or drugs. If he worked with them in an undercover fashion, anything like that she dug up would be dismissed. She needed something else.
“I'll take two.”
“Two for Jake. What about you, Billy?”
“I'm good. Yeah. Happy here. Hey, you catch the game last night? Man, that was some crappy play-calling.”
“Damn, Billy's feelin' cocky. Okay, I want one.”
“One for Sam. Yeah, that was terrible. Shame too, they were on fire until ref screwed it up.”
Cards. They were playing cards, that gave her time. She pulled away from the door and took another look at the study. Then she stopped. A creaking floorboard made her ears perk up, and she could still hear the card game, but it got closer, and closer. She did appreciate that parabolic hearing of hers as she leaped up and clutched at the ceiling.
The door shoved open and four men stormed into, guns drawn. “Look, window's busted into!” one of them said.
“Damn! Damn! Boss said we might get visitors!”
“Door was still locked, they gotta be in here somewhere! Where are they?”
“I'll check up here for you, fellas,” La Garra cheekily announced from her perch. They looked up in response as she fell into them.
Shortly after she landed, she jauntily stepped out into the hall and locked the study door behind her, the men bound and unconscious. She looked to the left, then to the right, and chose that direction to head next. Armed men were definitely not enough, especially in Texas, on a ranch. She still needed more. Much more, as she prowled the interior of the ranch now. She found the card table and chuckled. She moved through this room, snatched a piece of rolled turkey from the deli platter and chewed thoughtfully as she found the next length of hall, but also a door down into a basement.
If the guards hang here, the door's important, right, chica? she mused and checked the doorknob.
Locked. Must be why I scooped these up. She used the keychain she'd liberated from one of the guards and found the right fit quickly enough. Some muffled noise made its way to her sensitive ears, and she could smell something off in the air as well. There was something sweet like chocolate down there, but with a taint of a different sweet smell. A smell she recognized. She'd just smelled it, where? Where? This taunted her now as she peered into the darkness.
Enough light let her eyes see the concrete floor, and she leapt to bypass the stairs and land into a crouch in the room. A furnished basement, with a that led out from this room and away from the house. There was a light down that way, and more of those muffled noises, a sound-proofed room. That set off her hackles, there was only one reason for sound-proofed rooms: to conceal very terrible crimes the DEA would be unlikely to put up with.
And even if they did, other agencies wouldn't, she assured herself as she headed for the hall.
Up on the grounds, Ollie had shot down two more guards, all dressed in black, all with small arms. It was obvious that this Garson wanted a low profile, which didn't surprise the archer. As he reached the back part of the yard though, his eyes delighted at the sight of a storm cellar door.
Gotta be a secret tunnel, Ollie thought as he examined the lock.
I love bad guys with secret tunnels. There's something just so classic about it. He stifled a chuckle as he picked the lock and stalked down the stairs. The musty air closed around him, the darkness stifling after only a few steps. He broke open a light stick then tossed it ahead of him. It clattered on the floor, but there was no other response.
Light stick back in hand, Ollie examined the rough-hewn room, large enough for a group of six to ride out twisters.
C'mon, this has to be more than a storm cellar. He frowned, and did his best to search the walls. He pulled out one of his broadhead arrows, and scraped the walls until something stopped sounding like dirt.
Under the stairs, very slick, he thought with a satisfied look. He moved a couple of boxes out of his way and sought the catch to open the door.
There was a click and the door swung open, a dim light coming from the recesses of a narrow corridor. He eased into the passage, and reached back to close the door behind him, but paused when the light let him look closer at the box. Something about the writing on it caught his attention. He reached back and tore off the top of the box, to peer inside. Embers long thought tamped out roared back to life.
La Garra made her way down the hall to a door set near the center of one wall. The hall continued on, quite a distance too. She could also notice that another passage entered this one not much further away. But the door kept her focus, eyes narrowed, and body tense. She'd figured out on the way to this room where she picked up that second sickly-sweet smell. It had been the sedative on Ollie's arrow. Laced chocolates, that in her mind meant just one thing. She heard a noise from that other passage, a growl that barely registered, but she didn't care. For she had figured out the muffled sounds that had haunted her.
Crying. Young crying, and she kicked the door with all her fury, splinters blasted out across the room. Within she found all her worst thoughts realized, the two men with their cameras, the other two men with the poor thirteen-year old girl in old pajamas on a cot made to look like a young girl's bedroom, all pink and pretty and sweet, and she released a yowl of anger as she lunged at the two closest to the victim.
“Dammit, where did she come from?” One of the cameramen tossed the equipment aside and started for the door, as the other one came up at her from behind, to try and strike her down as she raked her claws over the 'actors'.
She could hear footsteps storming down the hall, more guards coming to get her, but she didn't care. She watched the two men drop from her attacks and saw the girl look up at her in terror. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she clutched a tattered teddy bear and immediately Yolanda felt her rage dissipate.
“Tengo cariño, no tengas miedo,” she said as she swept the girl up into her arms, claws retracted, hunched over her as she was struck from behind. “I've got you, sweetheart. Don't be afraid.”
The footsteps stopped, one pair at a time, each preceded by a whoosh that sliced the air. La Garra shoved an elbow into her attacker, then swung her arm full extension into his throat to put him down, her other arm tight about the young teen. She felt the girl clutch her now, knowing she was here to help. At the doorway was Oliver Queen, and he looked even angrier than La Garra. Even she was shocked at the way he shook with rage.
“What's wrong?” she asked him as she carried the girl from the room.
“Everything. Everything is wrong. But it won't be, not for long, not anymore. Now it's war. Now it's more than war.”
“Talk to me, what is it?” She asked as the two raced for an exit, girl in her arms, DVDs in his pack.
“Who is it. That's what you mean,
who is it. And it's
him and God help me, I'll find out how, and then I'll end him!”
“Who?”
“Count Vertigo, dammit!”
see Green Arrow #4-#7 for their first meeting*7S*
“Who are you?” Hayley asked as she and Mickey sat in their seats, their dinner table reduced to a pile of ash by the mystery woman that terrorized the Greg's restaurant.
“Witchazel,” she said as she smacked the waiter's ass and sent him off with her order. “Mm, nice buns.” She cheekily plucked a roll from another table. “Didn't I announce that? I could'a sworn I did. You two are supposed to pay attention to things like that, right?”
“Okay then, what do you want?” Mickey asked, hands clenched up into angry fists. He slowly stood up, but Witchazel didn't seem to notice or care this time.
When he took another step though, she tapped the tip of her wand against the dimmer switches and a massive burst of sparks exploded from one of the chandeliers in the ceiling. “I want you two. And dinner. Pretty much in that order. Now you stay right there, cutie-patootie, or there's worse coming for all these nice innocent little patrons. Heroes like you two, you don't want that to happen right?”
“Fine then,” Hayley added as she also stood up. She reached for her purse, but that was as far as Witchazel would let her go.
“Nope! None of that! Your brain can't help you if you ain't got nothing to use, so leave it, sister!” She turned as the waiter came back and handed her the carton of food. “Did you leave your number in there too, because you, handsome, need to get some datin' in!”
“Leave them alone!” Hayley shouted as she watched the strange woman get closer to the waiter. “You want us, we're here! You want us because you'll hurt these people, then fine! Leave them alone, and we'll go with you!”
“We will?” Mickey whispered to her.
“Yeah, we will. We have to.” She sighed and squeezed his hand.
“Aww, I'm gonna puke!” Witchazel announced and made the gag gesture again. “But yeah, yeah, that's the dealio. C'mon then, git goin'! Outside, there's a car waiting. Door's open, you'll know which one. I'm gonna stay here and wait until the car's gone, then I'm outta here.”
“No you're not. You're lying,” Hayley replied as she and Mickey slowly walked hand-in-hand to the front door. She stopped at Witchazel, angry eyes focused on the apprentice magician. “You got your food, you got us, you got all you wanted. You're coming with us, or we'll see how long it takes our friends to show up and kick your ass.”
Witchazel mulled the argument, and then pouted. “Fine! Shake a leg already, red. I can't wait until Mr. Vaux teaches you some manners.”
“Mr. Vaux?” Mickey muttered as the three teens walked out of the restaurant, over to the silver cadillac.
The door was indeed opened, the interior dark and ominous. Gimmick and Vulcan felt like they were swallowed up as they entered, and to anyone who might have watched through the restaurant windows, they felt the same way: that the two brave kids had been swallowed up by something evil, as the car drove off into the night.