Episode XXV

Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 1, 2005
Sender Code Name: Rubber Snake
Receiver Code Name: Blackbird
Subject: New Project Proposal
Message: The Queen Device is operational. We are ready to test it for long-term durability and practicality. Recommend we select a local candidate.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 1, 2005
Sender Code Name: Blackbird
Receiver Code Name: Rubber Snake
Subject: re: New Project Proposal
Message: I thought the Queen Device was still in the theoretical stage. If this is an April Fool's joke I will personally recommend you as a test subject for the Winston project.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 1, 2005
Sender Code Name: Rubber Snake
Receiver Code Name: Blackbird
Subject: re: New Project Proposal
Message: No joke, Blackbird. We thought it best to keep the excitement level at a minimum until we were sure it could be built. Still waiting for your opinion on a test run. Please advise.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 2, 2005
Sender Code Name: Blackbird
Receiver Code Name: Rubber Snake
Subject: Queen Project
Message: The test run is a go. We will begin candidate selection. We want someone who is active but relatively unimportant.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 12, 2005
Sender Code Name: Blackbird
Receiver Code Name: Rubber Snake
Subject: re: Queen Project
Message: We've narrowed the list of candidates down to six. Review the attached profiles and see what you think. I am partial to #2 and #3.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 14, 2005
Sender Code Name: Rubber Snake
Receiver Code Name: Blackbird
Subject: re: Queen Project
Message: I would recommend #2, except we've caused enough trouble with that department already. If news of this were to escape Q Lab it could be problematic. However, it appears that #3 is almost perfect. Dinglethorpe is barely aware that we even exist, and his assistant is a highly paid errand boy who also runs chemistry experiments -- generally without knowing what they are about.


Q Lab Internal Communication

Date: April 17, 2005
Sender Code Name: Blackbird
Receiver Code Name: Rubber Snake
Subject: re: Queen Project
Message: My colleagues agree. Damien Valiant has been approved. I'm afraid we need to drag you out of your dungeon for a face-to-face meeting about this. I know you don't have plans, so we'll be expecting you at 23:00 tonight.

* * *

Half of the security measures taken in Q Lab were entirely unnecessary. In fact, the practice of assigning code names to everyone could not properly be considered a security measure. Who did these names protect? They weren't used outside of Q Lab, and real names were accessible to anyone who really wanted them. Newcomers often questioned the practice, and were told by their elders that they would understand in time. They never did, but they went ahead and passed this myth on to those who came after them.

Not that there were many newcomers. The entire department employed less than two dozen people, and most of them would have been world leaders in their esoteric fields if they were permitted to interact with the world. They weren't, of course. The lab itself was known throughout Elfaeran Base as the research center for advanced gadgetry, and rumored to be a contact point for extraterrestrials. Most Q Lab employees couldn't tell you whether the alien rumors were true, but they could tell you that Q Lab was home to much more advanced technology than anyone outside was aware. They could tell you, that is, if you didn't mind them killing you afterwards.

On April 17 at 23:00, six Q Lab employees were in attendance at a secret meeting about the Queen project. Prince John arrived with Rubber Snake, while Nightrider and Frodo Baggins were two of the colleagues Blackbird mentioned. The meeting didn't last long; it was mostly a formality to make sure everyone was on track and no details were being forgotten.

"Gentlemen, Nightrider, welcome," said Blackbird, calling the meeting to order. "We are here to discuss the Queen Device. After several months of hard work, it has been constructed. It is operational. And we are ready to test it. Any questions?"

"Yes," said Nightrider. All eyes turned to her. "Could we please have a non-cryptic, detailed description of what this device does? We all think we know, but I for one would like to have it all out in plain English."

"Certainly," Blackbird agreed. "I believe the one best qualified to answer that question is Rubber Snake, the man who designed the device. Rubber?"

The young man stood up. "The Queen Device, as you all know, is the ultimate advance in spy technology. It is, essentially, a bioelectrical parasite. It 'lives' inside the body of the subject, renewing its power supply via chemical reactions fueled by small amounts of the subject's own blood. Its needs are small enough to go unnoticed, and it uses stealth technology to avoid detection by standard medical scans. It taps into the subject's nervous system, and gains complete access to the subject's sensory input. This information is then broadcast to a receiver unit. The receiver unit is attached to a virtual reality device. A person on our end can plug into this device while the Queen is broadcasting, and experience all the same sensory input as the subject."

Frodo Baggins spoke up. "Question: By sensory input, do you mean..."

"Everything. Sight, sound, smell, heat, cold, pain, vertigo, everything. However, it is possible to filter it down to just sight and sound if all of that is overwhelming or extraneous."

"And you say the device is operational?" This was from Darkrider.

"Yes it is."

"Then has it been tested?"

"Briefly."

"So, who..."

Prince John shifted uncomfortably.

"There were some....glitches to iron out. We'd rather not discuss it."

"Fair enough," said Blackbird. "Are there any other questions?"

"Yes," said Nightrider. "Are we certain all the glitches are fixed in preparation for a more extensive test?"

"Yes," Rubber Snake answered. "We don't anticipate any serious problems. The main thing we're worried about is whether the device will be able to sustain itself properly over a long period of time and keep the signal strong."

"What we've decided to do," Blackbird continued, "is to implant the device in a low-ranking employee from another department, specifically Damien Valiant from Sector #XY1492. Rubber Snake will then make regular observations via the virtual reality receiver over the course of eight weeks. This will serve a dual purpose of making sure the device is working properly, and testing how effective it is for actual spy work. I needn't point out that we have absolutely no authorization to conduct this test. Does anyone have a problem with that?" No one did. Q Lab had played by their own rules for a very long time. "Are there any further questions?"

"Just one," said Nightrider. "How are we going to get the parasite into the target?

"It is capable of getting in on its own. All we have to do is plant it in his quarters. It acts when he is asleep."

"But how does it get in?"

"It injects the subject with a strong general anesthetic to keep him sleeping. He'll think he's had a good night's rest and he might notice what looks like an insect bite."

"But how does it get in?"

"If there are no further questions, this meeting is adjourned."

* * *

Queen Project Report
by Rubber Snake

(selected entries)

April 18, 2005

Remote contact with Queen has been established. It is functioning normally and is adjusting to the local immune system.

April 19, 2005

Queen is now fully integrated and self-sustaining. It is preparing to tap into the nervous system. Sensory transmissions should begin within 50 hours.

April 22, 2005

I jacked in for about five minutes in the middle of the night. The experience is still unsettling; not sure if I'll ever get used to it. He was asleep, so there was no visual, but I could hear him breathing and feel him lying in bed. I understand the necessity of dimming my own sensory input so I can concentrate on his, but boy, that's weird. I can still feel myself in the virtual reality unit, but it's like a dream or a memory. Of course some sensation on my end is necessary so that my brain doesn't become disoriented and so that I can feel what I'm doing to disconnect, but the whole experience is just the most bizarre thing since sliced bread. You said you wanted me to speak freely in these logs; don't blame me if you get delusional rambling.

April 23, 2005

I tried it again for about ten minutes. Wasn't quite so bad this time. Tomorrow I think I'll try it when he's awake. Queen reports all systems functioning normally for both the parasite and the host. Hmm, I wonder if this could have medical applications?

April 27, 2005

I stayed jacked in for a whole hour this morning while he was getting ready for work. The hardest thing to get used to is not being in control. Because it feels like I'm the one taking a shower or brushing my teeth. He's younger than I am; that's also weird. Let me state in advance that I am not volunteering if you decide to test this on a female.

April 28, 2005

Stayed with him off and on pretty much all day. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm actually getting the hang of this. I'm starting to pick up the flow of how he moves around and stuff. His job is excruciatingly boring. Maybe it would be interesting if I knew more chemistry. Oh, and Dr. Dinglethorpe should be institutionalized -- wait, he already has been. The thing that's taken the most getting used to is when Damien talks. I hear and feel myself speaking, but I don't know what I'm going to say until I say it.

April 29, 2005

Oh, wow, I am liking this guy more and more the longer I spend with him. It's going to be really weird if I ever meet him in person. Dinglethorpe's got these insane security rules -- not as insane as ours, but still -- Damien has to work late sometimes, and if he stays out past 22:00 he has to go check in with a security guard. Sector #XY1492 is like 50 times the size of Q Lab, and it takes forever to go find one. Anyway, he's got an awesome hacker program -- not as awesome as what we've got but still -- he snuck into Dinglethorpe's office and used it to send a fake email so he didn't have to check in. I'm getting so in tune with him I really felt nervous when we were sneaking through the hallway. When he was in the office he had a sneezing fit, and I was afraid someone was going to hear him and we'd get caught.

April 30, 2005

Queen is reporting difficulties. Damien's immune system may have discovered it. It is recommending that we cease transmissions while it reintegrates itself.

May 5, 2005

Queen is reporting everything normal again, but I'm not buying it. Damien doesn't seem to notice anything wrong, but I can tell that something is different from last time. He's sick or something. The change was probably gradual, so he didn't pick up on it, but I noticed right away after being gone for a few days. I hope this isn't being caused by Queen. I'm going to talk to Blackbird about it.

May 6, 2005

Okay, I do not know what just happened, but that was INSANE. Dinglethorpe sent Damien down to the commissary to pick up some supplies after lunch. He wanted Mountain Dew, Cocoa Puffs, saltine crackers, and batteries for his mp3 player and Game Boy. Damien ate some spaghetti -- luckily they were out of tuna and anchovies, or I would have had to disconnect until he finished -- and then went down and picked up all the stuff. He brought it back, and was talking to the professor about where the name "Elfaeren" came from (I can't believe he's been here this long and didn't know). He was putting the batteries into the Game Boy, when, I think, the Game Boy started shocking him. The pain level was intense enough to overload the receptors on this end, and my link got severed.

May 13, 2005

Queen reports that the subject is sick (duh!) but that its own systems are fine. However, while Damien is unconcious there's pretty much nothing to transmit. I keep jacking in periodically, just in case. It's doubtful that Queen had anything to do with whatever happened to him, but we need to find a way to be certain.

May 18, 2005

Bad new, good news, and bad news. The bad news is, the XY1492 doctors can't figure out what's wrong with him. The good news is they called us up, giving us an excuse to take a closer look. Even more good news is that Queen is just fine and in no danger of being discovered, and is definitely not responsible for what's going on. The bad news is that our own scans were only able to confirm what they already know: He's losing weight and bone mass. I keep jacking in every day, but I only get occasional glimmers of sensation.

May 21, 2005

He's woken up! He's eating Ramen and watching M*A*S*H. And apparantly he's lost his memory, based on what the people around him are saying. He feels fine, though. Different, but healthy.

May 22, 2005

He continues to move about in a sort of daze. He doesn't seem to recognize Dinglethorpe. In fact, he doesn't give any indication of knowing who he is or where he is. I can't tell what's going on inside his head, but there's nothing coming out of his mouth. Queen says it's fine and so is he.

May 28, 2005

Damien just had a dream, and I had it with him. Only that's impossible. I can't experience his dreams. So maybe just I was dreaming. But I was jacked into the VR unit. I couldn't sleep and decided to hook up for a few minutes just on a whim. It was refreshing to feel him in normal sleep rather than a coma. Then, without any kind of warning, he just got up and wandered into the hallway. You'd think a patient like this would be monitored, but no one stopped him from randomly walking through corridors. He might have been sleep walking; I'm not sure. For all I know he's been sleepwalking for the past week.

This is where it gets weird. He somehow managed to avoid security and make it out onto a balcony. Then he just kind of stood there staring down into the valley. He had a headache, and was slightly dizzy. He started leaning over the railing, and I had just decided to disconnect and call for help, when he fell. I was sure he was going to fall to his death, and I would be the first man ever to know what it feels like to die without actually dying. But instead of dying, he started flying. Yes, that sounds stupid and corny, not to mention impossible. But I'm telling you, he just floated up into the air, did a few swoops, circled around and landed on the balcony again. The headache and dizziness were gone, and he was walking with confidence. He wandered back to his hospital room and told the nurse he had no idea what had happened, but he was feeling much better. I don't believe that for a minute. He's feeling better, sure, but I think he knows exactly what happened.

You're going to say I fell asleep on the machine and dreamed it all, or prolonged exposure to the VR unit stimulates hallucinations, or something. That may be the case. But let's be sure, okay? Elfaeran base is home to weirder things than a flying man and we all know it.

May 29, 2005

It's confirmed...if I dreamed last night's events, then I fell asleep sometime after Damien wandered out of his room, because that definitely happened. And I woke up before he wandered back, because that happened as well. And he appears to be fully recovered, aside from being thin as a rail with unusually low bone mass. Please don't call me crazy for pointing out that low bone mass is a characteristic of birds. He continues to maintain that he remembers nothing, and I continue to maintain that he's lying through his teeth. I think he's afraid of his new flying talent being discovered. I would feel the same way.

June 2, 2005

This is going to be the final entry. We were scheduled to go for another couple of weeks, but unusual developments are going to force us to cut the experiment short. Queen has shown remarkable resilience and adaptivity, and I seriously doubt there would have been any technical problems anyway.

Figuring that if he was really able to fly, he would try it again, I jacked in last night...only I had Doctor Smith on hand to verify that I was awake and that the interface was functioning normally. I also recorded the transmission so that someone else can play it back and verify what happened. I've made selected recordings before of course, but the amount of memory they take up is obsene.

Long story short: He snuck outside and flew for most of the night. Once he gets going he can swoop up and gain altitude, but he has to jump off a high spot, because it takes a few seconds of falling before the flying mechanism kicks in. Theory: It may have something to do with getting accelerated to a high enough speed, in which case he might be able to take off from the ground if he jumped off a fast moving vehicle or something. Testing that theory wouldn't be much fun if it turned out to be false.

Look, as I've said before, I can't read his mind. But I've practically lived his life for the past month and a half, and I've heard the things he mutters to himself. The man has a hero complex. He thinks that with this flying ability he can be Superman or something. And I don't think it's occured to him yet that he's not bulletproof. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he were to fly down to Mammoth City some weekend and get himself killed trying to stop gang activity.

* * *

After flying most of the night away, Damien ate a hearty meal and went to sleep. He was glad that he had time off and didn't have to be anywhere the next day. Anyway, the prospect of work had lost some appeal. Of course he still wanted his job, would need it in fact, not just for money but to maintain his secret identity. What better place for a secret identity than a secret government base? But just now he was happy to have some time to revel in his new power.

When he woke up early that afternoon, his computer screen was flashing. Why is it doing that? He wondered. As soon as he moved the mouse, a message popped up:

The following message will be deleted after one minute. Do not click "ok" until you are ready to give it your undivided attention.

Puzzled, Damien clicked the "ok" button. A full-screen window popped up:

Greetings, from Q Lab! We have eyes and ears everywhere. We know all about your illness, your recovery, and your new nighttime hobby. We know, but no one else is likely to find out unless we tell them. You work in a genetic engineering lab. If you want to avoid becoming Dr. Dinglethorpe's new project, we suggest that you cooperate with us. Please call ext. 8472.

Damien read this twice and was just starting to realize what it meant, when the screen vanished. He thought things over for a few minutes, then picked up his telephone and dialed 8472.

"Mr. Valiant, thank you for calling."

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Blackbird."

"Blackbird?"

"Please, we don't have much time. This line is secure, but only for a few minutes. Since you called this number, I assume you read my message. It hinted at blackmail. For this I apologize. I want us to be friends, Mr. Valiant. I want us to trust each other. A scientific study of your new ability will be beneficial to both of us. But I am willing to conduct it on your terms. Are you willing to meet with me?"

"How do I know that you won't--"

"Kidnap you? I assure you, Mr. Valiant, if I wanted to do that, I would not need your cooperation."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because then you would disappear. When someone diappears, there is an investigation. Investigations are inconvenient and tedious. A waste of resources. Besides, we see no reason to pull you away from your regular job and life. Now, will you meet me tonight?"

"Yes."

"Good. You've already shown an aptitude for sneaking through corridors, but getting to Q Lab undetected will be a bit harder than getting outside. Now listen carefully..." As Damien listened, the man outlined an exact sequence of movements through the base which would dodge security guards and bring him undetected to a rendezvous point where he would meet a contact named "Nightrider". She would then escort him into Q Lab. It all sounded like something out of a James Bond movie, but he didn't doubt that it was all real. He only hoped that he was not getting in over his head.

Episode XXIV

After an initial quick exploration, Marla started more thoroughly looking at her prison. The door hinges were on the other side of the door, so she couldn’t take them off. There were no screws in the door handle. Desk drawers were empty and the only things under the bed were dust bunnies. The coats hanging in the closet were also empty. So far, nothing she could use to escape. That left only the bathroom to search.

At first glance, this room wasn’t going to help her either. Sink, toilet, shower. At least I have a bathroom, Marla thought.

Wanting to look everywhere, she looked under the sink. There were two bottles down there, bleach and ammonia. Something triggered in the back of her mind. She knew something about them. Mix them together and …what happens again?

Looking at the bottles more closely, she saw expiration dates. The bleach had expired two years before, and the ammonia six months later. Obviously cleaning supplies left over from a previous owner. Whatever I can’t remember about them, must not be anything important, she decided, and closed the doors again.

For the next couple hours, Marla paced her prison. She tried the door, but it wasn’t moving. She racked her brain, wishing that she had some training on how to get out. You’d think this would be part of the witness protection program. How to escape when captured. Of course, most of the time they just kill you on the spot.

This only made her more frantic. Relocating may be a pain, but it sure beat death. Of course, this was one story they would find hard to swallow.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any more and returned to the bottles. Taking them out again, she brought them into the main room and set them on the desk. I know this mixture is bad. You don’t want to do it. Does it create something that eats through substances? Yeah, that must have been it. And it could be my ticket out of here.

Excitedly, Marla removed the caps and poured the contents of the bottles together. This may not do anything since they’ve expired, but at least it’s worth a shot. To her surprise, the mixture started to fizz almost immediately.

Carrying the bottle to the door, she poured it on the handle. Nothing happened. She splashed a little on the door. Again nothing. By this time, the odor in the room was getting to be pretty bad. That’s when it hit her; this mixture was deadly. It would kill her unless she got to a well-ventilated area.

Moving quickly, she took the remainder of the bottle into the bathroom and dumped it down the sink. That only seemed to make it worse. Even running hot water didn’t help, and by now, Marla was feeling rather woozy.

The odor was everywhere, with the main room just as bad as the bathroom. Out of desperation, she tried the door again. Still nothing. Quickly, she tried the closet. It didn’t seem as bad in there, but by this point, she was close to blacking out anyway. Lying down on the floor, her last thought was I might have saved the gangs and that monster from doing the job of killing me off.

******

Marla awoke to darkness and a splitting headache. It took her a full minute to remember what had happened to her and where she was. At least I’m still alive, she thought as she sat up slowly. She sniffed the air, and it seemed cleaner then it had been before. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the smell.

She grabbed the door to open it, and the handle came off in her hand. That’s odd. She pushed on the door, and it came off the hinges and fell into the room.

Marla was truly puzzled by this turn of events. Maybe I was wrong about the mixture after all. It really does dissolve stuff. No, I didn’t put it on this door, but the main one. What’s going on?

Never one to just leave things alone, she went over to the bed, and lifted it off the ground without even trying. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I guess. Marla smiled at her own joke. Moving quickly, she went over to the locked door and pushed. The hinges tore right out of the wall and the door crashed into the living room of the cabin. Marla quickly stepped out and over to the front door. Working carefully, she opened the unlocked door without breaking anything. This will take some getting used to, but at least I won’t destroy everything I touch.

Marla stepped onto the porch and breathed in the clean air. The sun was on the horizon, and judging from the temperature, it was probably morning. She had been right; she was in a log cabin at the end of a road right on a lake. If she had known where she was, it would have been beautiful. But right now, her only thought was how to get home.

Even that thought was replaced a moment later when a van drove up the road. Thinking fast, she stepped back inside and carefully closed the door. She then stood against the wall so the door would hide her when the men entered.

The two men must not have noticed the movement, because they came in carelessly. One of them was carrying a tray of food. Both stopped short when they saw the broken door to the room where she’d been held prisoner.

"Lord Acidity will not be pleased," said the one holding the tray. "We must recapture her."

The second one started to turn and spotted Marla semi- hiding behind the now opened front door. Reaching quickly for his gun, he pulled in out of its holster. But Marla was ready for this. She was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand. With a cry of pain, he dropped the gun as his hand shattered.

The first guard was shocked by this turn of events. In the moment it took him to recover, Marla bent down for the dropped gun. By the time he dropped the tray and dove for the weapon, she had already retrieved it. Not wanting it used on her, she grabbed the barrel and bent it down so it couldn’t fire.

Food Guy stopped in his tracks when he saw this. Looking from the ruined gun in Marla’s hand to his companion writhing in pain on the ground, he couldn’t decide what to do.

Marla, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the guy’s shirt and held him off the ground. "Where are the keys to the van?" she demanded. Food Guy was only a couple inches off the ground, but his eyes just got wider. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Fine, we’ll do this the hard way." Marla marched out the door. Grabbing the man’s feet, she turned him upside down and dangled him over the porch. Then she started shaking him until a key fell out of his pocket.

She turned him right side up and set him on his feet. "Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell Lord Acidity that you were most cooperative." She took a step off the porch then stopped. "On second thought, I’ve always wanted to do this." Slipping the key into her jeans pocket, she grabbed the man by the shirt again and took him the half a dozen steps to the water’s edge. Grabbing his pants so she was holding him horizontal to the ground, she flung him into the lake. To her pleasant surprise, he splashed down in the middle. "Just seemed like such a shame to waste a perfectly good lake," she said to herself as she turned and got in the van. She figured both of these goons would be busy for a while. It would give her plenty of time to get some breakfast and figure out what to do next.

Only as she drove away did she realize one thing she should have thought to ask the goons. What did the monster want with her?

Episode XXIII

Thump. Thump.

Dennis deduced that the car was traveling over a series of potholes. Ah ha, he concluded, at least he knew that they were still within Mammoth City. The freeway was sure to have traffic and anyway it was well maintained. The gangs certainly didn’t disturb maintenance crews as they liked well-paved roads for their illegal racing. They were even known to slip bribes to maintenance supervisors to make sure work crews completed work on-time or even ahead of time.

It was frustrating though that none of the men were thinking about anything particular, making it impossible for Dennis to employ his singular talent and telepathically eavesdrop. However, at least now he was able to think clearly. Before the trip had started he had been barely able to think his own name, let alone think of escaping. However a couple hours of hard driving, trapped in a trunk, was liable to clear anybody's mind.

* * *

Everything had been going well for Dennis lately. He wasn’t sure if he believed in luck, but if he did then all of his was good and he hoped that it would never stop coming. Though still in the hospital his grandfather was doing quite well. Just the day before his grandfather had been flirting with the nurses, much to the discomfort of Dennis’s grandmother who had sharply scolded him. However, Dennis had seen them together for years and knew that if she was up to scolding him then she was no longer worried sick about his recovery.

When he left the hospital Dennis had literally run into Professor Pettigrew as the older man abruptly stopped in the door out of the lobby.

“Oh, sir, I didn’t see you!” he quickly apologized.

“What? Oh, no harm Dennis. No harm,” the professor mumbled as he made to turn away, then abruptly turned back towards his assistant. “What brings you to the hospital?”

“My grandfather, he had a heart attack a while ago. He is recovering though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t you take a couple days off work, I’m sure you’re exhausted trying to keep up with homework, visiting the hospital, and grading.”

“Oh no sir, I’ll be fine,” Dennis weakly protested.

“Nonsense,” Pettigrew insisted.

“Very well, sir.” Dennis replied, actually quite relieved. “I will see you in two days then.”

“And not a moment sooner,” the professor reminded him. “If I need you I’ll just give you a call on the—I’ll just give you a call.”

Feeling much better Dennis strode towards his beat up car, abruptly deciding that he would sleep in the following morning and then head to the zoo. Of course the professor didn’t know about all of the other activities that Dennis had been engaging in, which above and beyond the hospital visits and other work were causing him the most loss of sleep.

Ever since Dennis had discovered his strange mental powers he had struggled with a way to employ them—he had even confided in his girlfriend Carry. While she hadn’t believed him at first he had soon dispelled Carry’s doubts by reading her thoughts. Though shocked she had recovered and had tried to help Dennis figure out what to do with his newfound powers. Reluctant to encourage Dennis to put himself in harm's way Carry nonetheless realized that he could at last put aside his frustration. No longer would Dennis have to sit aside and fume over the state of crime in Mammoth City; he could make a difference!

Knowing something of Mammoth City’s gangs from her years of growing up in the inner city, Carry suggested that Dennis spend his days off traveling the city’s bus lines, trying to overhear youngsters plotting. He had been doing this for a couple weeks and had even managed to tip off the police to several attempted gang robberies and other nefarious deeds. The one thing Carry hadn’t been able to help Dennis out with was the choosing of an appropriate name. He hadn’t liked the idea of Thoughtman or Mentalman, let alone any of her other less coherent suggestions.

* * *

Dennis awoke and as he stretched his arms above his head he was quite pleased to note that it was nearly eleven. He had quite successfully managed to sleep in and with no classes today he was free. Free to hunt down evildoers! A large grin spread across the young student’s face as he rose and padded over to his bathroom. Today felt like a good day to go to the zoo. He had overheard several gang members thinking about meeting at the zoo so he felt reasonably confident that he would be able to stop some illegal behavior while enjoying watching the animals. In fact the zoo even had Indian tigers that he was definitely excited about seeing.

* * *

Though he had enjoyed petting the dolphins, Dennis hadn’t enjoyed the drenching he received as he was walking away from the sea mammal’s tank. He was therefore quite distracted as he walked into the North American section of the zoo and it was with a shock that he found himself looking at two grizzlies. There weren’t many people in this section and Dennis thought that gang members would probably not want to be seen hanging out near these large animals. However, to his great surprise he did indeed see several suspicious figures clustered in front of the white-tailed deer and realized that he had almost walked right into them.

Disgusted with himself for not paying attention Dennis promptly turned around and started walking towards where he thought the tiger enclosure was located, figuring that if he could eventually circle around he could effectively spy on the gang members. However once he set out he found himself once again lost in thought. Only when he heard the howl of nearby Mexican wolves did Dennis realize his mistake. He fell to the ground, paralyzed as he always was by the sound of wolves. He hadn't been this way his whole life, but then he hadn't heard a wolf howl until the exhibit had opened at the zoo earlier in the summer, so he couldn't really be sure--he just thought this sort of thing didn't happen to normal people. Dennis hoped against hope that the gang members wouldn’t see him. This vain hope was soon dashed as the would-be hero found himself picked up and thrown into a nearby trash can. Unsurprisingly nobody objected to the young punks wheeling a trash can out of the zoo; in fact the security guards counted it fortunate that the gang members hadn’t decided to do anything more destructive than steal a wheeled garbage receptacle.

After securely fastening Dennis’s wrists and ankles together with a pair of handcuffs the young men threw him in the back of a van and drove to their headquarters, a large warehouse in the south-west section of the city. While Dennis was unceremoniously tossed into a long abandoned office the gang members all trooped out onto the factory floor where they were meeting with someone. Rolling around, Dennis managed to peer out of a crack in the office wall and see a man in a long black cloak that covered his body and cloaked his face in shadow. Unfortunately Dennis found that he couldn't use his mental powers; the group was simply too far away.

One of the gang members peered through the shadows and suddenly seemed to recognize the man. However before he could speak the man motioned the gang member to silence and announced in a mechanically distorted voice that he needed them to help him pick a name. His true identity was too valuable to risk, he explained, and he needed a name he could use with these, his valued henchmen.

The man who had been about to speak a moment earlier started to laugh. “Why does a te—” he began to derisively query when the cloaked man raised his hand and muttered. Immediately lighting sprang from his hand and in a scene reminiscent of Star Wars struck the offending gang member causing him to flop around. After being hit with several more blasts the man finally stopped screaming and lay on the floor dead. All of the other men started crying.

One red-headed gangster nervously laughed and asked “Why not Darth Phone?”

“Hmm…” the cloaked figure appeared to consider this—then he noticed the gang members drying tears. “Wait, why are you, hardened criminals, crying? Did I cause this too?” After a thoughtful pause he exclaimed triumphantly in his rasping voice, “I have it! From this moment forward I shall be known as Darth Onion!”

If he hadn’t been afraid for his life Dennis would have been sorely tempted to laugh at this serious sounding proclamation. Darth Onion? He had never heard of anything so ridiculous! He almost missed the moment that the henchmen began to explain their easy capture of Dennis, however he couldn’t miss the gasp from Darth Onion. “You idiots!” he exclaimed. Then lowering his voice the mastermind gestured towards Dennis and began speaking quite softly, so softly that try as he might Dennis couldn’t overhear much. “…take him…dispose…woods…lesson…”

Two of the gang members soon sauntered over to Dennis, wrenched open the office door and bludgeoned him into near-unconsciousness with the chains decorating their clothes. Then, somehow, they produced a rag smelling of some high-inducing drug and doused him until he couldn't think straight.

* * *

While the car had never left Mammoth City limits the gang members had taken Dennis to the one place he hadn’t expected: Pioneer Park, on the very outskirts of the city. Once a thriving community center the park had long ago been abandoned by the law-fearing populace and even the gangs didn’t go there often.

Two young toughs hauled Dennis out of the car trunk and dragged him over to the rusted slides. Once he had been securely fastened to the tottering structure all five of the gang members proceeded to beat Dennis, though they took care to ensure that they didn’t break any bones with their brass knuckles and baseball bats. He sensed from their roiling surface thoughts that their boss had been very clear that no bones be broken, especially in his fingers. Finally after what seemed like hours the red-headed youngster snarled at Dennis. “Let that be a lesson. Stay out of our affairs! Don’t think we haven’t seen you poking around our jobs. Stay out and keep out!” After punctuating that last statement with a sharp kick to Dennis’s aching side he strode off and jumped into the waiting car with the other gang members.

At first despairing of ever escaping Dennis finally noticed that the slide, no longer sturdy, had been severely disturbed by the gang’s violent beating. Though his muscles and bruises loudly protested Dennis managed to stand up and fall forward, breaking away from the rusted slide support. Instants after he hit the ground though he blacked out, only awakening what seemed like hours later to gingerly pry his cell phone out of his pocket and call 9-1-1.

Dennis awoke the next morning in a hospital bed at Community General, now sharing a room with his grandfather.