Episode XXII

Marla Stewart thought that once word got out that the monster had been captured, people would stop being afraid to come to Acid Resort. The trouble was that word failed to get out. After a few days had passed with no newspaper headlines, it occured to her that there had been no headlines about the monster in the first place. Puzzled, she called the D.S. Scientific Studies Lab. They denied having spoken to her before, and claimed to know nothing about any acid monster.

She thought about calling a newspaper, but didn't for two reasons. Firstly, being in the Witness Protection Program, she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Secondly, what reporter was going to believe a story about a government conspiracy involving an acid monster? One from the National Enquirer, maybe, but even they would probably want a photograph. Oh well, rumors about the creature had spread without the help of newspapers. Without further sightings to keep fueling the rumors, they would die down. Eventually she would gain new employees and customers.

Later that day, two men walked through the front door. Marla put down the book she was reading and greeted them. They looked like locals rather than tourists, so she thought they were probably seeking employment. But there was something odd about them. Nothing extreme, but their movements seemed slightly mechanical, and their eyes had a glazed-over look. Later she couldn't decide if they reminded her more of zombies or drug addicts.

"Can I help you?" She asked. One of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. Marla just laughed. "What makes you think I have any money? I've had only one customer in the past three weeks."

"We don't want your money," the man replied.

"What do you want, then?" She pushed the silent alarm.

"You have displeased Lord Acidity. You will come with us."

"Lord Who?"

The man not holding the gun walked around behind the counter. "If you resist us, you will be harmed."

"Wait a minute. I've seen you guys before."

"Do not resist." He began tying her hands behind her back.

"You two were with the group of scientists that captured the acid monster!"

"You will not refer to Lord Acidity as a monster!" The man with the gun yelled angrily.

"So that's his name, huh?"

The other man finished tying her hands, and put duct tape over her mouth. Then he blindfolded her, and led her out of the building, putting her into the back of a van. She couldn't tell how long they drove, but it must have been at least a couple of hours. She slept for part of the trip. When the van finally stopped, they pulled her out and led her into another building. Finally, one of the men removed her blindfold, and she saw that she was in a small bedroom, inside what appeared to be a log cabin, since one of the walls was made of logs. The room was furnished with a bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a chair. The man untied her hands, and locked her inside. She removed the duct tape from her mouth, then explored a little.

The room had two doors besides the locked one. One of these belonged to a closet containing a few old coats, and the other led to a small bathroom with a shower. No windows, however. And no obvious means of escape. A few minutes after being locked in, she heard the van start up and drive away.

Episode XXI

The morning was grey and the air thick with humidity. It was about 7 o'clock and Marcia hadn't slept very well the night before and had woke up a half an hour before not being able to sleep. She decided to take a walk and left the hotel promptly, briskly walking toward the acid pools to do some investigating of the scene. The "landlady" as it were, (Marla) had dropped in shortly after she woke to let her know that the creature had been captured and there was nothing to be afraid of. Now that she had been upgraded to a VIP class resident by the anxious hotel caretaker, she had access to all the pools.

Crossing a field on the way she noticed van tracks. Must have been the laboratory team Marla told me about, she thought to herself as she neared the bubbling acidic pools. The steam rose gently into the morning air and Marcia breathed it in letting it clear her senses. Looking around she started to circle the pools and examine the edges for any clues or strange phenonmenon. This so-called "monster" intrigued her for some strange reason.

Seeing what appeared to be some large unnatural abrasions on the edge of on of the pools she went closer for a look. As she neared it she noticed the beauty and amazing depth of the pool. Amazing! She thought. That pool must be about 15 feet deep and I can see all the way through. The blue clarity of the pool awed her. As she knelt down for a clearer view through the mists that obscured the surface her skin came in contact with some kind of green substance on the edge of the pool. She
gazed into the pool while the her skin, unbeknownst to her, was being eaten through by the green chemical.

Suddenly pain shot through her knees. She fell grasping. Her head neared the water.

* * *

Dr. Pettigrew quit his solitare game to go find the paper. As he opened the door a cat jumped up onto his porch.

Dr. Pettigrew immediately slammed the door, causing the cat to flee the scene promptly. Breathing heavily as he leaned against the door he finally got himself out of the panic attack. After getting a drink of filtered water he grabbed the nearest weapon (a broom) and stalked up to the door opening it slowly and peeking out. Relieved to see no cats in sight he searched for the paper.

"That's unusual." He pondered it for a minute. "Oh well." It was one of the small joys in life; reading of other peoples misfortunes was almost as amusing as causing them, which he enjoyed greatly. As he was stepping onto the porch again, the phone began to ring. He ran and answered it.

"Hello? You've reached Dr. Pettigrew, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, this is Marla Stewart, and i'm calling on behalf of... Marcia? You know her, don't you?"

"Yes?"

"Early this morning she fell into one of the pools and was burned badly. Somehow she must have saved herself because I found her apparantly shortly after she fell in. I don't know why she was out there, but anyway was taken to a local hospital, treated and let go. I thought I should let you know since the room reservations are under your name."

"Oh yes, yes, thank you very much for letting me know."

"Would you like me to give you the information about where she was treated and expenses?"

"No that won't be neccessary, thank you though."

He suddenly became much more congenial, hung up the phone, and picked it right back up to call Marcia. He dialed and the phone on the other end was promptly answered.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Marcia?"

"She's not avaliable right now, can I take a message?"

"Its very urgent, do you know where she is? This is Dr. Pettigrew."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you Mr. Pettigrew. This is Marcia's roomate. She had some problems with some burns and went to Community General to get them checked out. I also found out that she is going to probably be staying there for a few nights."

"Thank you very much."

He promptly hung up and got dressed to go on a little interrogation visit.

* * *

Arriving at the hospital he went inside and talked to the lady at the front desk.

"Excuse me, do you know where Marcia Silverberg is being kept?"

"Are you family?"

"No, I'm one of her professors at Mammoth University"

"Ok, I see, she's in room 231."

* * *

Arriving at the floor, he asked about her condition.

"She's been unconscious for a little while, but let me check, she might be awake by now."

Unfortunately the nurse returned with the information that she was still unconscious.

I guess I’ll have to get my information later, he thought disappointedly, leaving the hospital.

Episode XIX

Marcia walked into the lobby of the Acid Bay Resort. This is rather nice, she thought to herself. If all her assignments for Dr. Pettigrew were going to be this plush, she’d really be happy.

Walking up to the desk, she rang the little bell on the counter. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” yelled a harried voice from the back. Presently, a frazzled looking woman came out of the office and walked up to the desk. “I’m Marla, how can I help you?”

Marcia smiled. “I have a reservation. Should be under….”

“No need. If you have a reservation I should have no problem finding it.”

Marcia looked confused. “Really? A place this nice?”

“Haven’t you heard the rumors of the monster living in our sulfur springs?” Marla let out a bitter laugh. “Just as I thought, you’re the only reservation in the system. Would you like a free upgrade to our luxury suite?”

“Seriously? I’d love it!”

Marla started typing on her computer. “All set. You’re in room 300.”

“So this rumor is hurting your business?”

“Big time. Which isn’t such a bad thing since all my employees up and quit on me. If I had to run a full hotel by myself, I’d really be going crazy. But one guest I can handle no problem. So if you need anything, let me know.”

“You think this is a rumor started by your competitor to ruin you?” Marcia asked.

Marla shook her head. “Normally, I would. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve actually seen this thing.”

Marcia’s ears perked up. “Really?”

“Yes. It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. Like something out of my nightmares.” She shuddered. “I hate to think what it would do if I hadn’t made it to the shed and gotten the pH solution ready.”

“So then why are you still here?”

Marla indicated the hotel around them. “My entire life savings are here. And who in their right mind would buy a place with a monster attached?”

Marcia picked up her key card and moved to the elevators. All the way to her suite, she kept thinking about what she’d learned. Maybe this wasn’t a wild goose chase after all. She only opened her door long enough to drop her bag inside, then she headed out the back way. It was dark outside, but the moon was full. The slightly chilly air made her shiver. Then she wasn’t shivering from the cold. Coming out of one of the pools furthest from her was a – beast was the best way to describe it. Even only by silhouette she could tell this was something she didn’t want to mess with.

Praying she wouldn’t catch the creatures attention, she crept back inside and hurried up to her room. She checked the time, then decided that it was too late to call and pulled her lap top out of her bag. She quickly sat down to e-mail Dr. Pettigrew. “Rumors confirmed. Saw the creature myself....”

Episode XVIII

Five Weeks Ago:

When the lights in the hallway began to dim Damien Valiant realized that the night shift was beginning in Elfaeran Base and according to the lab rules he would have to notify security that he would be staying late. Frustrated by the seemingly senseless requirement that Dr. pHinneas Dinglethorpe had instituted in Research Lab #XY1492, Damien had been looking for ways to avoid trudging through nearly a half-mile of corridors just to report to the nearest security station.

As he was only an assistant Damien didn’t rate access to the base lifts that ran horizontally on each floor. This was only one of the many things that annoyed him about the military and Dr. pHinn’s crazy rules. However he knew that pHinneas was an acknowledged leader in the field of genetic engineering -- perhaps the leader -- and was a great man personally in spite of his managerial shortcomings. Valiant had no intention of jeopardizing his career by abandoning Dinglethorpe to strike out on his own.

Crossing his fingers Damien pulled a memory stick out of his pocket and plugged it into a USB slot on Dr. pHinn’s desktop. He copied the sole file to the computer’s desktop and double clicked the program’s icon. After a few moments he breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar sight of his friend Hegel Jeremiah’s code-breaking program popped up. In only a matter of moments Damien had hacked into Dr. pHinn’s e-mail to send the main security office a missive informing them that Damien would be staying late and need not actually report to the security office. Overall it would be a rather complicated procedure to construct the e-mail properly and then erase traces of his deed, but Damien rather preferred all the elaborate subterfuge to actually walking the long distance to the security office and reporting in to the officer on duty.

Watching the program do its work a satisfied smile crept across Damien’s face then rapidly disappeared as his face abruptly screwed up in a sneeze. Frantically searching through the mess on the surrounding lab tables he finally found a damp rag and cleaned off the computer screen then brought it to his face to contain another sneeze. Unfortunately the rag released enough particulate matter that as Damien held it to his face he sneezed three more times in rapid succession. As he realized what had happened the lab assistant threw the rag back down and stifled his last sneeze on his shirt sleeve.

While Damien worked through the night the viruses that had lain dormant in the rag worked their way through the walls of his nasal cavity into his bloodstream where they quickly infected cells and duplicated, beginning their spread throughout his entire body.

Four Weeks Ago:

Though thoroughly infested by the viruses that had invaded his body during a sneezing fit Damien Valiant remained blissfully ignorant of their continued presence within his body, going about his normal routine helping Dr. pHinneas Dinglethorpe.

“Damien, would you run down to the commissary after lunch?”

“Sure Dr. pHinn, what do you want me to pick up?”

“Well I could use some more cans of Mountain Dew, I’m running a bit low. Hmmm—some saltine crackers wouldn’t be amiss as well as some of that chocolate cereal they advertise on television with that bird, what is his name…” Distractedly the doctor trailed off. Knowing that he had likely drifted deep into concentration Damien decided to head to the local cafeteria for lunch when the doctor suddenly raised his voice. “And batteries, I need many batteries. Double A, and triple A.” When it was obvious that further instructions were not forthcoming Damien did leave the lab, loosely latching the door behind him so that Dr. pHinn wouldn’t be disturbed.

Reasonably sure that he wouldn’t get caught, Damien swiped Dr. pHinn’s access card and used the executive elevator system to make his way to the cafeteria. Unfortunately they had run out of tuna and anchovy sandwiches mere minutes before he arrived so he had to settle for spaghetti and garlic bread. After polishing off a second serving of spaghetti Damien dropped by the commissary to purchase Dr. pHinn’s supplies and headed back to the laboratory.

“I have your things Dr. pHinn,” the young man called out as he entered the lab. “What did you need the batteries for anyway?”

“Oh, those were of critical importance,” the scientist exclaimed. “My mp3 player and Game Boy are fresh out of juice.”

As the assistant took the cans of Mountain Dew over to the lab refrigerator he threw a query over his shoulder at his boss. “Why do they call this Elfaeran Base? That doesn’t sound like a real name, I mean it sounds like something from Lord of the Rings or Star Wars.”

“You’re not far off,” the doctor laughed. “This land above was originally called Elf-haven Ranch when the government purchased it. The purchasing agent had just read The Lord of the Rings when he arranged for the government to buy the property. Knowing that the generals in charge of the project would likely insist on a numerical designation, like Area 51, he concocted the name Elfaeran and persuaded the lead architect to imprint it on all of his blueprints.”

With a laugh Damien picked up pHinn’s devices and after throwing away the old batteries broke open the new packs and started installing them. The moment he tried to start the Game Boy Damien’s hand cramped and clutched the device tightly, threatening to break it. When the doctor tried to grab his hand Damien weakly shook his head and backed away, then suddenly exclaimed as blue streaks of electricity sparked between his hand and the device he was clutching. Crying out in agony Damien fell to the floor where his hand hit the ceramic and fell open, tumbling the melted case of the Game Boy under a nearby cabinet. In a panic, not able to remember any emergency medical training which could aid Damien Dr. pHinn picked up his desk phone and called the nearest med station.

Two Weeks Ago:

“You still do not know what is wrong do you?” Dr. pHinn asked.

“Unfortunately no,” Dr. Framen replied sadly. “He continues to lose weight and I’m even more worried by his continual loss of bone mass. It isn’t cancer and I haven’t found any viruses that I recognize. Basically his condition continues to defy every bit of medical science that I can bring to bear. I’ve even had the doctors from Q Lab come in to look at them and their, ehm, ‘special’ devices haven’t made any sense of what is happening.”

She sighed and ran her hands through her long hair. “I can’t do anything more than sit here and watch him wither away. I feel so helpless. I haven’t had a patient this bad off since that British chap they brought in, you know, the one who disappeared?”

Ten Days Ago

“Why the urgent call Nurse Kellye? Has he…” Dr. Framen’s voice abruptly trailed off. The patient she had just been about to ask after was sitting up in his bed eating from a bowl of ramen noodles while watching an old M*A*S*H rerun on the base television network.

“Who, who authorized solid food?” She at last managed to ask.

Nurse Kellye was puzzled. “Why you did Doctor Framen. Last night you wrote on his chart to give him whatever he wanted if he woke up.”

“Oh, I did didn’t I?” the doctor rhetorically queried, still puzzled until she finally remembered exactly what she had been thinking. “Yes, I was thinking he would be too far gone if he did wake up, so he might as well have a last meal of whatever he wanted if by some miracle he did wake up before the end. But, but—ramen?”

“Don’t ask me Doctor,” the nurse replied defensively. “It is what he asked for. Though if you do ask me,” and she leaned closer to the doctor and began to whisper. “He is a bit strange. He doesn’t seem to know where he is, and I don’t just mean the medical facility, I don’t think he remembers the entire base. Do you know what could cause that?”

“Kellye, at this point nothing is a surprise. Frankly we’re dealing with something completely unknown and so really nothing would surprise me now. Go ahead and let him eat what he wants, and get rid of the IV. I’m too busy right now, but I’ll send a psychologist by later to question him.”

Nine Days Ago:

“Damien, my boy, talk to us.” Dr. pHinn attempted to encourage his assistant to open up, however the young man simply turned his back to the two men and refused to speak. “I’m sorry Dr. Freedman; Damien usually isn’t like this at all. He really is a quite likable young man; I’ve never heard him reluctant to speak before. I’m sure it isn’t serious.”

“But you say that he also hasn’t appeared to remember you pHinn?” the psychologist gently asked.

“Well no,” the scientist squirmed on his seat. “Actually he isn’t at all like himself.”

“There isn’t anything more I can do then,” Freedman stated, moving towards the door with Dr. pHinn. “Nurse Kellye, please continue to keep an eye on him and let me know if anything changes. I think we’ll leave him here for another week, and if he hasn’t recovered by then we’ll have to transfer him to some sort of mental institution or begin retraining him for life elsewhere.” He shrugged, “What I wouldn’t give for a Vulcan right now.”

Three Days Ago:

It was the middle of the night, not that things like that mattered much in the bowels of Elfaeran Base, but little of the base was fully staffed twenty four hours a day. In the medical station where Damien Valiant lay only Nurse Kellye was on duty and she had snuck out shortly after two for a rendezvous with her boyfriend, Alan Pierce, a security guard in the next sector. About five minutes later a small electrical surge shorted out several of the wireless devices monitoring Damien’s medical condition, and one of the remote sensors on his forehead discharged a static charge as it died.

Unexpectedly Damien rose from his bed and wandered out into the hallway. Frequently he reeled from the onset of a brief headache, but always he staggered forward. After nearly twenty minutes of wandering he stumbled through an exterior airlock and found himself on a balcony far above Mastodon Valley. As he stood gazing over the beautiful view Damien found himself remembering a phrase from the last book he had read. The author, an insane British man, had claimed that flying was easy. Confused Damien raised his hands to his temples in an attempt to quell yet another headache, but he couldn’t stop the remembered words from streaming through his mind. “The trick is to fall and miss the ground.” But how could you miss the ground Damien’s mind fuzzily demanded. This train of thought quickly derailed and he again started reading from the book in his memory. “This happens only when someone falls and becomes so preoccupied with something else.” Something else like what? Damien wondered, a thought that continued as he fell forward over the balcony. He continued remembering learning “that they forget that they are falling, and therefore are no longer doing it. Flying is just a permanent state of falling, minus the hitting the ground part.” With a start Damien’s mind violently shook off his lethargy as he realized he was falling down the cliff face, and then his heart nearly stopped when he found that he wasn’t falling, he was flying!

Two Days Ago:

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything?” Dr. Framen eagerly questioned Damien.

Knowing full well what the revelation of his newfound power would mean in a secret government lab Damien vigorously denied retaining any memories of what had happened the night before. He stuck to his story that he only remembered waking up on the balcony, remembering nothing of his stay in the hospital or how he got out of his hospital bed. After enduring another hour of questioning he was allowed to return to his apartment. In view of Damien’s long hospitalization Dr. pHinn had given his assistant a week off work and ordered him to remain at home.

There has to be something I can do with this power Damien thought. Perusing the paper he skipped over an article on the local disappearance of the northern flying squirrel and began reading an article about increasing gang violence. Perhaps he could battle these young hooligans. Wait, that was it, flying squirrels! He would call himself Rocky. No, he realized a moment later, that would never do. He needed something much less familiar, something like…The Flying Squirrel!

Today:

Regardless of what Dr. pHinn had ordered Damien was sick of being inside. He could handle being underground for days when he was working, but weeks of lying in a hospital bed had begun to sap his spirit. Tonight he would sneak up to the surface and see how this flying stuff could work out.

Episode XVII

Dr. Pettigrew knew that he had probably sent Marcia on a wild goose chase, but he wasn’t certain. A man who can shoot lightening from his fingertips but doesn’t know how or why is hesitant to say that anything is actually impossible. Besides, it was good to establish a pattern of obedience with his new assistant.

Meanwhile, he had finally caught up on paperwork and had some time to consider his situation. He had power now, and power was good, but what was the best way to utilize it? So far he had fried some student’s papers, ruined some tel – some communication devices, and scared the living daylights out of a few stray animals. He felt that he ought to be hatching grand schemes, or carrying out diabolical plans, but so far nothing of the sort had actually materialized.

He scanned the newspaper for inspiration. More gang activity. Was this really news anymore? Murders. Robberies. One semi-impressive fire. At least the fire department wasn’t corrupt. The recall petition for the mayor had gained enough signatures, and an election was going to be held. The comics page. Garfield. Wait – he turned back to the recall election. A new mayor. Good. The old one was spineless. But would the new one be any better? Maybe…maybe he should run for mayor. There was an idea. He’d always wanted to go into politics.

There were two problems with this idea. First, he was on a year-long contract with the university, and it was only the fall semester. Second, his unique abilities wouldn’t be of much direct help. People sold their votes to the highest bidder all the time. Dishonest people for cash, and “honest” people for campaign promises. Fine. That was politics. But it was much harder to threaten people into voting a certain way. It could be done, of course, but you had to be able to threaten lots of people at once, and it couldn’t be too obvious that was what you were doing. His lightening trick was neither large-scale nor subtle. Frying the competition wouldn’t work, either; when all but one of the candidates turn up electrocuted one morning, it tends to cast suspicion on the one who survives.

Oh well, he didn’t want to be mayor anyway. Not really. Sure, the existing guy was an invertebrate, but even someone with backbone would have a hard time enforcing order. That was the job of the police department, and the Mammoth City police were little better than a highly paid, highly armed gang. They ruled the upper half of the city, and the little gangs ruled the lower half. Not all the police were corrupt, but none of them were any real threat to the crime scene. A mayor who wanted to make a difference would have to get new police officers. Men who were as tough as the criminals, but honest. Not just hones, but incorruptible. Tough as nails and incorruptible. In other words, they needed Jedi Knights. Good luck finding those. Besides, a whole army of Jedi Knights could by wiped out by two Sith Lords.

Now, there was an idea. That’s what he was, right? A Sith Lord, more or less. He couldn’t use the Force, but he could do the lightening thing. In fact, he could do it all day; it didn’t seem to drain his energy like it did Palpatine’s. So in some ways, he was stronger than a Sith Lord. Okay, so what would a Sith do under these circumstances? He sighed. Run for mayor, probably. Except – no. The mayor didn’t have enough power. And he couldn’t get enough power. Not without drawing the attention of federal authorities. The mayor had to play by the rules.

So who doesn’t have to play by the rules, he asked himself. The newspaper answered: The gangs don’t. They make their own rules. They rule the lower half of the city, and not even the police can stop them. Sure, they’re inefficient, because there’s several rival gangs and they’re always fighting each other. But if they could be united, organized….

This was starting to sound like a plan.

* * *

Four young men stood in an alleyway, smoking cigarettes and talking about nothing in particular. They wore black leather with red chains, the uniform of Red Death, the organization to which they belonged. The night was still young, and they were just killing time. One of them was toying with a knife.

Movement at the end of the far alley caught their attention. Someone was walking toward them, slowly but purposefully. “Check out the freak show,” one of them said. He was wearing a black hooded cloak that covered his whole body and hid his face. He stopped a few feet away from them, folded his hands in front of him and spoke.

“Gentlemen, forgive my ignorance, but are you in fact members of a gang?” The young men stared at him. This had to be the biggest idiot in the entire city. He spoke again. “I am looking for actual criminals. If you are simply delinquent youth, then I suggest you go home to your parents. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” The man holding the knife responded with profanity, and the other three reached for their own weapons. The man held out his hands and spoke again, quietly. “Telephone.” Electricity shot from his fingertips and into the bodies of the young men. They yelled in shock (pun intended), and he said it again, more loudly. “Telephone.” The electricity shot out again with greater force. When it stopped, the frightened gang members staggered to their feet, intending to run away. But then he shouted. “Telephone!” It shot out once more, and by the time it stopped, only one young man was still breathing.

The hooded figure walked up to him and knelt down. “Can you hear me?” He asked softly. The boy nodded. “I’m going to spare your life, but I want you to do something for me.”

“What?” He managed to groan.

“Tell your friends what happened here today. Tell them that a man shot lightening from his fingertips and electrocuted you. Can you do that?”

“They won’t believe me.”

“Yes they will. Because I’m going to do it again tomorrow night. And the night after that. And every night, until they are ready to listen to me.” With that, he stood up and walked away.