Episode LXIII

Marla Stewart and Molly Murphy got along like oil and water. Except oil and water separate because they are different; these two were too much alike. Each of them was used to being in charge and used to getting her way, and neither was prepared to back down or compromise if it could be helped. However, since they were stuck with each other for a while and Agent Murphy couldn’t leave her post as a “resort employee”, Marla did what she could to ease the tension by leaving Acid Resort as much as possible during business hours. Agent Evans, who was posing as a guest, was still able to follow her and provide “security”.

Marla had another reason for leaving the resort: she was determined to do her own investigation to try and discover who had been spying on her. The difficulty with this was that she had to do it with a bodyguard in tow.

The first line of investigation she tried was regarding the Mammoth City gangs. She hadn’t paid much attention to them since the murder trial she had testified in that had earned her a place in the Witness Protection Program. She had, in fact, done everything she could to avoid anything relating to her former life. Thus far this had seemed to be a working strategy, but now things were changing. She was beginning to have doubts about how long her current life as a quiet resort owner would last; this time, however, she did not intend to run and hide.

The Daze Springs Public Library had years of newspaper archives from the major Mammoth City newspapers. While Marla pored over years of news articles, trying to understand what had happened in the city since she’d been gone, Agent Evans stayed within sight of her, reading a novel. After a few days of this, she developed what she thought was a coherent picture of things. The information was not all explicitly printed, but for someone who knew the city it could be found between the lines.

Over the past couple of decades, the crime rate in Mammoth City had grown slightly faster than the population, while the police force had grown steadily more corrupt. An unofficial truce of sorts had developed between the gangs and the authorities: the city was divided into two halves. The upper half – in elevation as well as affluence – generally belonged to the law-abiding citizens. This part of the city was properly policed, and crime there, while not unheard of, was kept in check. The lower half of the city, however, was mostly ruled by the gangs. The police made nominal patrols of the area, but regularly accepted bribes to keep their activities to a minimum. Meanwhile, the area controlled by the gangs had gradually grown larger as the years passed.

All of this was interesting, and it felt good to get back up to speed with what was going on in her old home (even if the news was depressing), but she didn’t find any useful information about the more recent changes in gang behavior. There were a few references to the gangs acting with greater unity, and since the recall election was in two weeks there were a lot of references to the new mayoral candidate who was running on an anti-gang platform, but no there were no details that seemed relevant to her situation. Belatedly, it occurred to Marla that the Witness Protection Program had better intelligence sources than newspaper archives, and that she wasn’t likely to find out much that they didn’t already know through traditional research channels.

Around the time that she gave up on the library, Marla began to notice something that had been going on for a while. Her appetite had been gradually increasing, and she had also been having specific cravings, mostly for vegetables and dairy products. Mostly she thought this was strange since she had been spending so much time sitting down and reading, getting less exercise than usual. At least the cravings were for healthy things.

Not knowing where else to turn in researching Mammoth City gangs (short of actually traveling to Mammoth City, which Agent Evans would surely protest), and not knowing who else from her past life might be spying on her, Marla decided to shift her attention to a more recent problem. It had been a while since she’d had any run-ins with Acidity, but she knew better than to assume that she’d seen the last of him. Monster rumors continued to circulate (though thankfully without reference to her resort) and “zombie” rumors were starting to become more frequent than the monster ones. Really, it was surprising that Daze Springs hadn’t made any national tabloid headlines yet.

Not that Marla was likely to see the tabloids if they did. Another thing she discovered while finding reasons to leave the resort was that the public bathrooms there were not the only places she couldn’t go anymore without getting a debilitating headache. The list of such places included grocery stores, department stores, fast food restaurants and gas stations. Not all of them, just a lot of them. So far she hadn’t found a pattern, but shopping was becoming a genuine adventure.

Trying to track down Acidity seemed like it ought to be easy. He had to be the most recognizable entity in the town – even in the state, as far as that went – and the people who worked for him were highly noticeable as well. But wandering around hoping to run into one was a highly frustrating activity. After trying it for a while, she reflected that even if she did find one of his goons, she didn’t know what she’d do. Randomly grabbing a person off the street and demanding that he take her to see his master was another one of those activities to which her bodyguard might object. As was trying to follow someone unobserved.

But surely, she thought, someone else must have noticed what’s going on. All those zombie people have to have friends and family; he can’t have nabbed everyone they know or he’d have half the city by now. There’s got to be someone else either looking for him, or at least trying to find out what’s going on with those people… That’s when it hit her: There were other people who knew about Acidity: the employees at D.S. Scientific Studies Lab. The last time she’d tried to contact D.S.S.S.L, they’d denied that Acidity existed, but that was when they still had him in captivity. Maybe now that he was on the loose, they would be more willing to talk.

The lab site was still in a state of semi-chaos in the wake of the explosions and fires. Construction of new permanent buildings was in progress, but meanwhile the employees were carrying on their work in temporary structures. It took some effort just to figure out who she should talk to. After nearly two hours of waiting (punctuated by loud demands to speak to whoever was in charge) Marla finally was granted an audience with Dr. David Jockner. She remembered him as the man she had spoken with the morning they originally captured Acidity. As soon as they were alone in his office, she decided to remind him of this.

“Dr. Jockner, you and I both know that we’ve met before, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pretend otherwise,” she began.

“Why would I pretend otherwise?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“You tell me. Last time I called here, you guys pretended that you’d never spoken to me before.”

“Ah. Hmm.” He thought for a moment. “When did you call? Before the explosions?” She nodded. “I can see how that might have happened. It’s my own fault for not setting up better lines of communication. As you can imagine, we didn’t want a media circus over your monster, and thought it best to keep it as quiet as possible. Very few of our own people beyond those who helped with the capture were in the loop, and we did what we could to keep rumors to a minimum. Whoever answered the phone had probably heard nothing of any such creature, and if they checked, there was no mention of you in the files.”

“You could have arranged for calls from me to be forwarded to your office.”

“And I should have; as I said, this was my fault. To be honest, it didn’t occur to me that you’d have a reason to call again.”

Marla shrugged. The man might or might not be telling the truth, and at this point she didn’t care. She was ready to forgive and forget if he’d help her out now. “Fair enough,” she said aloud. “I assume you are aware that Acidity was responsible for your explosions, and that he’s still loose in the city?”

“What did you call it?”

“Acidity. Are you telling me you had him in here for weeks and you didn’t even find out his name?”

“I’m a bit confused. Assuming this is a name you’ve given to the creature, how would we—”

“I didn’t name him! What do you think I am, his mother?”

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’? Anatomically the creature does appear to be male, but we only discovered this on close inspection, which was difficult due to its – his – other peculiarities. I was under the impression that you hadn’t seen it up close.”

“Oh—well, I have since he escaped, but I knew before then because that’s how his minions refer to him. But even without, well, looking, you could tell it’s a ‘he’ by his voice.”

“I think I need to sit down; feel free to take a seat yourself; I think we’ll be here a while. And slow down please; one startling revelation at a time.” Marla sat as requested while Dr. Jockner did the same. He took a deep breath, and then asked, “Minions?”

Ninety minutes later she had related the entire history between herself and Acidity, with some slight modifications to avoid discussing her own “peculiarities”. It felt good to be able to finally talk with someone about everything, but as with the newspaper research the end result left her no wiser than before. The flow of information was almost all in one direction. Still, he gave her contact information for a lab employee named Abby Gillis, who she could call if she wanted to discuss things further. Abby, he explained, was currently working from Mammoth City, but made trips to Daze Springs two or three times a month. Marla felt certain that he knew more about Acidity than he was letting on – they must have discovered something about him at least from a physiological perspective – but she decided it was no use pressing the issue just then. Promising to keep in touch with Abby, she thanked Dr. Jockner and left.

Although she had already eaten lunch, Marla went to a restaurant (one that didn’t give her headaches) after leaving the lab, and ordered a large meal. She was nearly finished with it before she realized that it was her fourth large meal of the day. All this eating is going to make me fat, she thought. But she didn’t seem to be able to stop herself; she was just so hungry lately. When she stopped in to check on things at the resort, she weighed herself in her private bathroom (which fortunately she could enter without trouble) and found that she had, in fact, gained over thirty pounds. But I don’t look any different! Where is all that mass going? She wondered if she could visit a doctor without revealing her superhuman strength.

With regard to Acidity, Marla was running out of options. If the people at D.S.S.S.L. didn’t even know that he could talk, it seemed unlikely that anyone who hadn’t been injected knew much about him at all. This put her back at her original plan of hunting him down herself. The problem, she reflected, was that she knew next to nothing about detective work. Plus, it was hard to do anything clandestine with Evan Evans following her around. But perhaps there was another option. If detective work needed done, maybe she could hire a detective. It would have to be someone who didn’t mind dealing with the shadier element of the town, someone who was used to dealing with unusual cases, and above all, someone who would take the case and keep quiet about it without asking too many questions. Could such a detective be found? Probably not in the phone book, but maybe if she asked around in seedy places like pawn shops…

Early that evening (after another big meal which she fixed back at the resort to save money) Marla found herself inside a small office well hidden within a run-down building. There were no signs advertising its presence from the outside; Frank Evans (no relation to Evan Evans, who was curious about what she was doing but polite enough to accept that she wouldn’t tell him) only accepted business that came to him by word-on-the-street advertising. For her own part, she’d used a false name in setting up the appointment and wore a hood that concealed her features. Before the incident with the expired chemicals, Marla would have been nervous to enter a place like this, but now she was just pleased to see that the detective didn’t look like a zombie, although if he had it might have saved her some time.

“Who’s the guy outside?” He asked as soon as she came in. Marla was impressed that he’d noticed.

“He’s just my bodyguard,” she answered. “Don’t worry; he’ll leave us alone.”

“A bodyguard? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I don’t trust you. But if I thought you were a physical danger just now, the bodyguard would be in here, not out there.”

“Touché. What can I do for you, Miss…Smith, was it?”

Marla hesitated, but decided that if he were as good a detective as she’d been told, she wouldn’t be able to keep her identity a secret from him. It was just as well that she hadn’t used her real name while asking around, but now it seemed reasonable.

“My real name is Marla Stewart,” she said, pulling back her hood. In the dimly lit office she failed to notice the look of shock and panic that momentarily passed over his face. “I want you to track down information on someone.”

“That’s what most people want from me. Who’s the subject?”

“I assume you heard the rumors a while back about a monster living in the pools at Acid Resort?”

“Yes,” he said without inflection.

“And you’ve heard more recent rumors about a monster living somewhere in the city, as well as the ones about people who act like zombies?”

“I hear all the rumors. Get to the point.”

“The two monsters are the same, and his name is Acidity. The zombie people work for him.” She paused, unsure whether he was taking her seriously.

“Go on,” he said in the same monotone.

“I want you to track down information about Acidity: where he lives, how many zombies he’s got, what he’s up to, anything you can find out.”

“I see.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Does it matter?”

“What I mean is, if you take this case, will you take it seriously?”

“I take every case seriously. Let’s talk about finances.”

Before she left, Marla made arrangements to meet the detective again in ten days. Three days before that appointment, she discovered that her appetite was returning to normal, but that she had gained a grand total of ninety-one pounds. She even bought a new scale to be sure. This is ridiculous, she thought. I still look the same as I did a month ago. There’s no possible way I could be hiding that much fat. At least with her super strength, it was no problem hauling the extra weight around.

Episode LV

Peace and quiet.

Ok, so running a resort didn't normally give Marla that, but she made sure her quarters were far enough away that the general noise didn't reach her. And her staff knew that when she was in there with the door closed after hours, she was only to be reached in an emergency.

Since getting out of the hospital, Marla had been taking it easy, letting her employees do most of the work and hiding out in her room. And she was definitely leaving the monster to someone else. There was no reason that she had to fight him. If he were willing to leave her alone, she'd do the same.

The peace and quiet was shattered on the third day, however. The bad news came in the form of a phone call.

"Marla, it's Jane Harper from Witness Protection Services."

Marla groaned to herself. Everytime Jane called, it was always bad news.

Jane continued uninterrupted. "Someone has been poking around asking about you."

The smile that had been on her face froze. "What?!"

"So far, it's just been local. Your friends, the resort. Basically, your life in the last 25 years. We think it's connected to the attack that sent you to the hospital, but we aren't sure."

"So this person is no closer to finding out about my past."

"We don't think so, but there's more. The gangs in Mammoth City are behaving differently. Most of them are working together, including the two you testified against all those years ago. Somehow, this increased cooperation might have revealed a detail or two about you. We're still looking into the possibility."

"So what do I do? Is it time to move?"

"Not yet. We want to figure out what is going on. But we need to protect you. We'll be sending you two agents to work undercover, help protect you, and figure out what if any danger you are in. Agent Evan Evans will be checking in for an extended stay as a guest and Agent Molly Murphy will be a new employee of the resort. They will arrive separately in the morning. Will there be any problem?"

"N-no."

Jane barreled on. "Good. They will be available any time if you need to get in touch with us or are in any danger. You are to keep a low profile until we figure this out. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. We think this will blow over in a few weeks. Don’t worry."

And with that, Jane was gone.

Despite Jane’s parting line, Marla spent the night worrying about the phone call. She had always known in the back of her mind that her secret might come out and she'd have to move and take on a new identity again. But after so long, she become to think that she was safe from her past. Now here it was again causing problems in her life. Maybe. Either way, someone poking around wasn't good news. Despite Jane's order, she'd have to investigate. And she had her superhuman strength to help in an emergency. She wasn't the helpless woman she had been when she became Marla Stewart.

But there was something even more troubling that played through Marla's mind as she finally drifted off to sleep. What kind of parent names their son Evan Evans?

Episode LIV

“Sir, the telephone is ringing.”

“Answer it you idiot!”

“Hello? Yes Frank, he is here. Okay.” Distracted by too many neurons firing at once the henchman hung up the cell phone and turned to his master. “Frank says the police are close to finding you.”

“I was afraid of this,” Acidity muttered just loud enough for the henchman to overhear. Then he realized how melodramatic he sounded and ordered the henchman to forget what he had just heard. Unfortunately this henchman was George, one of his original two followers. Acidity had utilized George more than any of his other “employees” and had thus had to inject him more than anyone else. The command was interpreted a bit too literally and George stood in front of Acidity with a blank look smeared across his face. Cursing the stupidity of his followers under his breath Acidity started over.

“If we are going to move we will need money. Go back to the Bates Hotel and retrieve all of their files. I especially want all of the credit card information they have.”

“Yes, sir, Lord Acidity” George haltingly responded, trying to remember his mission perfectly.

“Now make sure nobody sees you, nobody alive that is. The police have captured you before and I can’t take the chance they want you again.”

“With a final nod and “yes, sir” for his master George left the makeshift compound and headed towards the north side of Daze Springs.

* * *

With a groan Frodo awoke. He stretched and immediately wished that he hadn’t. His arms encountered slimy garbage—the remains of too much spaghetti he suspected. At once he was outraged. Who would dare to do this to Frodo Baggins?!? He would make them pay! But then he remembered. He was no longer Frodo Baggins, he was simply Jeff Smark.

After a momentary letdown Jeff decided not to let anything keep him down. He had risen through the structure of Elfaeran’s massive hierarchy until he had budgetary control of Q Lab. Perhaps his fellow (well former fellow) Q Labbers had betrayed him, but Jeff knew he could get back at them. The first thing he needed to do was contact his financial advisor. A quick call and—his hand slapped against an empty belt. Of course, he berated himself, they had taken all of his equipment, no matter how mundane. Even his wallet was gone, though they had left his glasses. Perhaps out of pity he though. But his glasses were not as ordinary as they appeared, though they would even fool Xanga’s vaunted sensors. None of their features would do him any good here though.

When an attempt to clean his glasses only smeared the filth around Jeff sighed and sat up. Thankfully the dumpster was mostly full and he could see out from this position. The dumpster was in a dingy alley behind what appeared to be a rather rundown restaurant, Tony’s Bistro. After probing his memory for a few moments Jeff remembered the establishment. He and Prince John—no, he reminded himself, no more pseudonyms if he could help it. He and Dick Löwe had used the place once during Q Lab’s early years as a place to meet a Canadian agent. Since that time the neighborhood had decayed and had been absorbed by the north side slums.

“Of course they’d dump me in a place like this,” he muttered. “They just—” But then he froze, for he heard footsteps coming down the alley towards his dumpster. Jeff debated hiding below the rim of the trash container, but on a whim he decided to ask the approaching individual for help. He determined that the stranger was a tall man in his mid twenties with long red hair. Jeff called out. “Hello, my good man, can give you give a brother a hand?”

“Master said I mustn’t be seen,” the man muttered in a dull voice. “Have to kill this one.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jeff replied. “No need to kill anybody. I’m worth more to you alive than dead.”

“No, you can’t live.” With that dire pronouncement the man picked up a nail encrusted plank and advanced upon the dumpster.

“Wait, you can’t be serious,” Jeff protested. “I-I have money! I’ll pay you not to kill me!”

The man paused and appeared to be considering the offer. “Money? You can give money to the master?”

“Um, yeah, sure. I can give money to your boss no problem. Now where should I send this money?”

“No sending. You will come with me to hotel and then we see the master.”

With a shrug Jeff levered himself out of the dumpster and walked towards the man. At this point anything was better than the dumpster. Then he paused as something about the man struck him as familiar. Wait, hadn’t Q Lab just started investigating reports of slavish goons in Daze Springs? This man could be a follower of the creature calling himself Acidity. Jeff grinned, if this was true then his day was definitely looking up. He might be completely on his own, but this Acidity character certainly had an organization already in place. He resumed his walk towards the man and grinned. “What’s your name buddy? I’m Jeff.”

“George. Don’t talk any more. Follow me.”

* * *

Acidity was contemplating the merits of sending more minions after George and had decided to have someone call Frank for him when the entrance to his makeshift throne room burst open. George pushed past the two minions standing guard, trailing another man behind him. The middle-aged stranger was of average height with greasy blond hair and thoroughly unremarkable features. Acidity was sure he had never seen him before, but he still seemed familiar.

Abruptly Acidity sat upright as he realized what was familiar about the stranger. He walked and moved just like the scientists at the Daze Springs Scientific Studies Lab, with all the arrogance that modern society’s addiction to science could give him.

“George!” the acid lord began. “What is the meaning of this?”

As he listened to his own voice Acidity truly began to warm to his new persona. This is who he was meant to be. No more for him the days as mild mannered James Faulkner, successful businessman and world traveler. Instead of traveling the globe Acidity meant to rule it! But first, of course, must come his control of Daze Springs, and he could never accomplish this with only idiots like George. Perhaps if he had a few more underlings like Frank Evans…

Suddenly Acidity realized that George was answering his question.

“—has money Lord Acidity.”

“Is this true?” The acid lord quickly cut George off and turned his full attention to the stranger.

“Of course Mr. Acidity, I have plenty of money. But perhaps if you tell me a bit more about your present difficulties I can determine how to best help you. You see I know all about you. Some former associates of mine were quite fascinated by your emergence. If you gain much more power they may start seeing you as a threat.”

“Wait,” Acidity growled. “Who are you that I should listen to you?”

Ignoring the question the stranger posed one of his own.

“Where is your minion Ed?”

“You know too much.”

“No, wait. Ed disappeared after an incident in Westwood, right? But he eventually came back. Why?”

Slightly intrigued by this brash man Acidity decided not to throw the stranger out and tried to humour him instead. “Of course he returned. Everybody returned, they cannot resist me. I am more addictive than the Borg!”

“That’s what we wanted you to think. Sci-fi clichés aside, your acid treatments are extraordinarily addictive. But…”

“But?” Acidity prompted in his deep voice.

“But we managed to beat it. I’m not sure how, that was Batman’s department. Look, we can talk all day, but I can produce proof for you. My former associates know everything that Ed knows. Not knew, everything that he knows and learns. By this time they’ve probably already gone to the police.”

“I’ve heard the police are close to me, but not why.” Acidity paused in his pronouncement. “I must investigate this. You will stay here tonight under guard.”

“May I at least have a shower and some clean clothes?”

“Yes. Fenton and George will take you to a room. You will remain there and not attempt to escape.”

“Yessir bossman. I’ll stay put. By the way, my name is Jeff.”

* * *

The room Jeff was lead to was far from comfortable, but at least it was clean and dry. After a long cold shower he stretched out on the room’s cot. Apparently the compound had water and sewer connections, but no electricity or amenities like water heaters. Or, he mused, perhaps that was just for the “guest quarters.”

As the former Q Labber wasn’t at all tired he tried to plan out his future. He’d known he wanted revenge against the rest of Q Lab, or at least the mutiny’s leaders, but he’d never imagined he would have the good fortune to run into someone as capable as Acidity. Tomorrow, once he had convinced the acid lord he would have to contact his financial advisor.

For the past twenty years Dr. Gordon, in addition to his own eccentric activities had managed Jeff’s investment portfolio. Initially Zagreb Investments had been rather small, but once Jeff entered Q Lab he had found many opportunities to divert funds. He always told himself that he wasn’t stealing, just taking what was rightfully his from the patent money Q Lab controlled. After all he had helped to develop several of the gadgets and drugs and even helped to concoct the cover stories.

Jeff wasn’t sure exactly what the doctor was up to these days. It had been nearly five years since they had met face-to-face, though seven years previously they had begun secretly communicating over Xanga’s satellite. Jeff still remembered his astonishment when he discovered that they were routed through Telstar 42. He hadn’t known there were more than thirty of the communications satellites, including classified models. Obviously he couldn’t connect to the satellite away from Q Lab, or Gordon’s facility (wherever it was), but with broadband access to the internet he should be able to send a secure message to the doctor. Then, once he had access to his finances he could bankroll Acidity and perhaps even direct the monster’s energies against Q Lab.

Unfortunately Jeff realized that gaining access to his money might not answer all of his problems. He couldn’t let himself believe that Nightrider would really ignore him—even after this she would surely monitor his actions. In fact, he sat upright as the thought struck him, she might have left a GPS chip in him. He had no way to check his suspicions without resorting to a lab, and he didn’t dare risk the chance of leading Nightrider somewhere he might use as a base of operations. Cursing Nightrider and her ilk Jeff ruffled through several drawers until he found a pencil and pad of paper. Hours and seemingly reams later he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Acidity was definitely not a morning person, though as James Faulkner he had needed to rise early most mornings. Now that he had set himself up as a self-styled acid lord he set his own schedule as much as possible and expected the world to conform. This morning he had tried to sleep in, comfortable under the surface of his acid spa. His rest was disturbed however as George tossed a small rock into the bubbling acid.

“Frank called, master.”

“Well? What did he say?”

“The police are coming here.”

“WHAT?!? When? How many? Why didn’t he find out sooner?”

Overwhelmed George failed to answer any of his master’s questions. Frustrated, Acidity finally managed to restrain and calm himself. “How long do we have George?”

“He said it would be a few hours yet. The psychic’s drawings weren’t too clear.”

“Psychic? What the—” He broke off as the stranger strode in through the open door. No, wait, his name was Jeff

“I finally convinced George here that I needed to talk to you again. What’s wrong?”

“Apparently the police have a psychic helping them to find this base. I might be able to fight them off, but I can’t chance loosing my minions—you on the other hand…”

“Wait just a minute buddy,” Jeff interjected. “I told you about the police, remember? Look, this psychic is just a front. I’m sure he is the one my former associates have used before. This time they probably fed him information from Ed. The police will eventually come right here and know exactly what to do.”

“I agree. What can you do to help me?”

“George took credit card information from that hotel, right? If you give me some of that data and at least one actual card then I’ll be able to contact my financial advisor. I can get the funds from him to lease a building in town—probably something next to the slums. With your construction minions and other discrete people that we can hire we’ll be able to retrofit the building to accommodate your unique needs.”

“Hmm…a most ambitious plan. But I approve. Take George and make your plans. Once you have access to the building go there and call me.”

“That sounds good sir, except that I don’t think I should go near the building any time soon. You can take care of Ed by firing him, or whatever you do to former minions—but I suspect my former associates might be able to track me. Now don’t panic, I have my towel and I’m sure they can’t hear or see what I do, but they might have implanted a GPS locater chip. Until I get access to better equipment I won’t be able to know for sure.”

“I will certainly deal with Ed. Your former associates will not get any more information from him after tonight. But I find this most suspicious. What guarantee do I have that you will honour this bargain?”

“Well you don’t,” Jeff quickly replied. But I can make assurances. I’ll have George with me, or any of your other minions if you prefer. I’ll also give you further details about my former operations. I have to ask that you don’t act on this information unless something happens to me though.”

“Hmmm,” Acidity rumbled. “Very well, I shall consider your terms. Now what is this information?”

“I was employed at a large government facility underneath the Mammoth Mountains. I am not sure where the main entrances are anymore, but it is within mere minutes of Daze Springs. The area I worked in is known as Q Lab—if anything happens to me or you are attacked then know that the one known as Nightrider is responsible.

“Also,” the former Q Labber continued. “My financial advisor is located somewhere in the area—his name is Dr. Gordon. Tell him that Captain Kirk sent you to look for more tribbles and he should be able to help you.”

“How can I find this Dr. Gordon?”

“That I don’t know, not exactly. But you can’t mistake this one for anyone else. He is quite secretive, but flamboyant. He is running his own lab somewhere in the valley or nearby. He’ll probably be hiding in some grand dramatic place where nobody would look for him unless they knew him very well. Oh, and when you tell him about Kirk don’t say ‘live long and prosper’ whatever you do.”

“You seem to have a fascination with Star Trek,” the acid lord remarked dryly.

“Occupational hazard in a job that seems like science fiction.” Jeff shrugged. “I’ve never liked the show myself though, I just enjoy using it.”

“Very well, you and George will leave in twenty minutes. Take the black Land Rover in the corner of the compound. The rest of us will move out into the countryside and wait for your signal.”

“Take care pardner.” With a jaunty wave Jeff left the hall. Acidity hoped that he had made the right choice. If not he was determined to hunt Jeff down and turn him into the most mindless minion imaginable.

* * *

“Turn in here George.”

“Why?” The minion was surly. Even before his baptism by acid he had never enjoyed driving. Now he had to devote more resources than ever to the task.

“Because I’m hungry and they accept credit cards, that’s why!” Jeff retorted.

“Okay. Master put the card in there.” He pointed to the glove box.

“Really?” I wouldn’t think he could get in a car without ruining it.”

“Special suit.” George grunted as he pulled to a stop.

“May…take…der?”

Jeff spoke loudly from the passenger seat. “Two double Dharma burgers, one extra large fries, and a peanut butter shake. Oh, and two fortune cookies.”

“Tha…e…eight fifteen.”

Unlike some of his fellows Jeff hadn’t left Elfaeran Base in several years, and he had sorely missed Island Burger’s fast food. Once he paid and took the food from George he tossed the driver one of the fortune cookies.

“What does it say big man?”

“Can’t read while driving. Here.” With that George dumped the cookie into his mouth and chomped down. He pulled the fortune from between his teeth and gave the paper to Jeff. “You read it.”

“Um, okay…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he desperately searched for a napkin. Finding none he gritted his teeth and unfolded the paper. “ ‘No man’s knowledge can go beyond his experience.’ Hmm, I wonder if that is still true in the information age. Eh, whatever. Now, what dose mine say? Oh, ‘Good laws lead to the making of better ones; bad ones bring about worse.’ Now wasn’t that enlightening old buddy?”

George grunted and didn’t speak until they reached the public library. Once inside Jeff made a beeline for the nearest computer. After creating a new Hotmail account he sent a message to another long dormant account and downloaded the file attached to the automatic reply. If Q Lab tracked him to this computer he was sure Mouse Tail would be able to recognize his own handiwork even as he was unable to pull any data from the computer. Once past the library firewalls and filters Jeff was able to access one of his many secret e-mail accounts. It only took him a few minutes to compose a message to Gorgon and send it on its untraceable way.

As the two men walked out to the Land Rover George asked what they would do next.

“Wait. Well, buy a cell phone with the number I gave to Gordon. But then we wait.”

* * *

“Dr. Gordon?”

“Yes Miss Christianson?”

“You have a message from a Jeff Smark, sir.”

“Thank you. Please forward that to my internal e-mail and then delete your copies.”

“Yes, sir.” Once this simple task was done Susan turned her attention back to her blog. She was sorely tempted to drop Lakota’s blog from her blogroll. He hadn’t posted anything about his new job in nearly two weeks! For a brief moment she thought about changing jobs herself, but she couldn’t really. Even if Dr. Gordon had lost his medical license years ago the board hadn’t been fair about it. He was a nice old man and deserved better. Of course from Susan’s perspective forty was old and sixty was positively ancient.

* * *

As he walked into his new headquarters building under the cover of darkness Acidity craned his neck up. The building had a good look to it, even if it was run down. He even appreciated the large neon sign, currently powered down to mask his entrance. Yes, the old Star Tribune would provide the perfect cover for his operations. If he could start running the paper again he might even be able to use it against that cursed Marla woman!

Episode XLVIII

Frank Evans, Private Eye, sat at his desk reading his copy of the Daze Springs Gazette. Business was slow, and he was bored. Why else would he read the paper?

Frank was not known as the most ethical PI in the world. That's one reason why his little hole-in-the-wall office was in the North Side Slums. But it had been good for business. Everyone knew they could come to him to retrieve anything, no questions asked. He had made quite a good living at it over the years, keeping the cops off his back at the same time. They hardly dared venture into his neck of the woods.

Today, he was scanning the paper for any news of the latest craze in Daze Springs, the rumors of the monster. While the local media was treating it as rumors since there were no photos, Frank new better. He had seen the way several people in his neighborhood had been acting recently, and he knew there was more then a myth to this story. Plus, he'd been doing a little investigating on his own. The good rumor was that the monster was based just outside of town.

He checked his watch again. 3:15 PM. He decided to close up early and see if he could find out anything for himself.

***

Frank was marched into camp at gunpoint. He was rather embarrassed to have been captured by these drones, but he had to admit, they were good. Dumb, not much for meaningful conversation, but good.

He was marched straight to the main building and shoved inside.

The site that greeted him was horrific. The rumors of the monster were indeed true; Frank had confirmed them himself.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the monster growled.

Frank nervously rubbed his balding head. "I'm Frank Evans, PI, and I'm here with a business proposition for you."

"Why would I even want to do business with you?"

"Because I found you and know the truth?" Frank was nervous, but he couldn't help feel a little smug by his success.

"That will mean nothing. I can turn you into one of my minions and that will be the end of that." Acidity raised his arm.

Frank's smugness left just as quickly as it had come. "But that's why I'm here," he stuttered as he took a couple steps back. "Your minions have not gone unnoticed. While the papers won't report it, everyone is talking about the strange people in town who stare vacantly at everyone they meet. It won't be too much longer before your secret is out."

Acidity lowered his arm. "I'm listening."

Frank continued. "I'd like to work for you. Part time, on the side. I can be your eyes in town and learn things that the other minions won't. And by keeping all my bodily control to myself, I won't be detected."

Acidity was silent for several minutes. Sweat was poring onto Frank's brow by the time he finally spoke. "Very well. It will be as you say. I will expect reports from you every two days. And Mr. Evans?"

Frank allowed himself a smile. "Yes?"

"If I find out you are double crossing me, I will inject you. Or worse."

"Obviously, you have never heard of me before. I always treat my clients above board. It's everyone else I stab in the back."

"Very well. Your first assignment will be to learn all you can about Marla Stewart."

"The owner of the resort? Why?"

"Because, this woman keeps crossing me and winning. At our last encounter, she threw me for three blocks. It took two days of soaking in my acid bath to recover from that. And the addition of five more minions to cover up my sudden appearance from out of the sky as well. I also want to get more info on Abby Gillis."

"The recent lotto winner?"

"I see you keep up on the news. Very good. You may be of use to me. And if you aren't?" Acidity raised his arm threatening. "See you back here in two days, Mr. Evans."

On his way back to his office, the through crossed Frank's mind that he had made a deal with the devil. But he shrugged his shoulders and kept walking. It wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Episode XXXVII

Several minutes after regaining consciousness, Marla remembered to check her phone messages. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she had one request for room reservations and two calls from prospective employees who had seen the “Help Wanted” sign and wondered why the place was locked up during business hours. Maybe things were going to return to normal. And all it took was inhaling deadly chemicals.

Deciding not to go shopping after all, Marla ate a quick brunch, then opened the resort office for business. Before calling back the new employees (she figured at this point she’d hire anyone who walked through the door as long as they didn’t look like a servant of Acidity) she decided to tidy the place up a bit.

When she walked into the back rooms which were her living quarters, she noticed her gold necklace lying on the ground where she had dropped it. She bent down and picked it up, but collapsed again before she had straightened. She didn’t hit her head on anything this time, and as soon as the necklace fell from her hand her strength came back. Weird, she thought. I wonder if… She sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully reached out and touched the necklace. Immediately she slumped over, but was able to stop herself and sit up again as soon as her hand slid away from the necklace. “Okay, I’m convinced,” she said out loud. “Gold must be my kryptonite.”

Just to be sure, she tested her theory with various pieces of jewelry, some gold some not. She found that only the gold ones affected her, and then only if the gold directly touched her skin. If she picked them up with a cloth, she was fine. At least gold is rare, she mused. It would be bad if I went limp when I touched wood or something.

Heading back to the phone, she called the two prospective employees and arranged for interviews the next day, then called the prospective customer and set up the reservation. After hanging around the office for a couple of hours, she decided that business wasn’t going to pick up anymore just yet and went shopping after all. All in all, a good day.

The next day was also good. The two interviews went well. The interviewees were refreshingly non-zombie-like, and she hired them both, immediately putting them to work getting the place ready for the pending customer. Meanwhile, two more reservations came in. The monster rumors, it seemed, had died peacefully.

That evening she sat down to watch the local news before going to bed. The top story caught her attention: D.S. Scientific Studies Lab had burned to the ground. Good, she thought. With any luck, the monster died in the fire. On that positive note, she went to sleep.

As the week progressed, further news reports slowly eroded at her optimism. Twelve bodies were found in the ruins of the lab, but there was no report of any of them being unusual. Furthermore, the fire was started intentionally, by carefully positioned explosives. Maybe Acidity had simply been blown to unrecognizable bits, and the explosives set by a disgruntled employee…but maybe not. He might have escaped, in which case he was now at large in the city. This was an unsettling thought.

As the days went by, the uncertainty became less and less bearable. If he wasn’t dead, then why hadn’t he sent his zombie people after her again? Was he laying low, waiting to catch her off-guard? Or had he lost interest in her? That seemed unlikely; he must have had her kidnapped for a reason. Finally, she couldn’t stand just waiting around for something to happen. Having no particular plan, she just went for a drive through town late one afternoon, looking for zombie people, or any kind of evidence that Acidity was still around.

* * *

Ironically, as Marla Stewart was thinking about Acidity, he was thinking about her. As he surveyed the damage he had caused at the former site of the lab, he reflected that his power and influence was growing. His former captors were no longer equipped to attempt recapturing him, even if they were still inclined to do so. He now had absolute control of over a dozen individuals, including the entire staff of the hotel where he was staying. (These he instructed to continue doing their normal jobs, which they were able to do for the most part. Bookkeeping turned out to be too arduous a mental task, so he did that for them.)

His main problem was that he hadn’t managed to infect anyone who had significant amounts of capital, which made the prospect of obtaining new acid supplies a daunting one. But I wouldn’t even need more acid, if I could return to the pools, he thought. Everything was perfect for me there! And that woman had to go and ruin everything. What did I ever do to her? The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. And his biohazard suit made it difficult to monologue at his minions, which was his usual method of relieving tension.

There were two reasons why he hadn’t gone after Marla already. One was that he figured the acid pools would be the first place the scientists would look for him again. However, it seemed unlikely that they were going to do so. The other was that she apparently had superhuman strength, based on what one of his servants had told him. Well, I have superhuman acid, he thought. We’ll just see how strong she is after I dissolve her. Having made up his mind, he motioned to his minions to get in the car, and began driving to Acid Resort.

* * *

After driving around the shady parts of town for over an hour and not seeing anything useful, Marla decided that she was going about her investigation in the wrong way. She wasn’t sure what the right way was, but hopefully it involved burning less gasoline. It was nearly dark anyway, so she headed home. When she got there, she saw that there was a strange car parked in front of the resort. Maybe it’s a customer, she thought. She parked her own car in her garage, then walked out to the thermal pools to see if anyone was around.

As she approached the biggest pool – the one the monster had been captured in – she saw that two men were standing there looking at it. “Hello!” She called out. They turned and looked at her. “I’m Marla Stewart, the owner of this resort. Do you want a room for the night?” The men looked at each other, then turned back to the pool and began waving their arms over the water. Thinking that this was unusual behavior, Marla slowed down a bit in her approach. Then one of them began yelling at the pool.

“Lord Acidity! Lord Acidity! Marla Stewart is here!”

Marla felt a sudden chill run down her spine at the sound of the monster’s name, followed by a surge of anger. He had come back – to her resort – just when everything was returning to normal. He’s ruining my life! She thought. What did I ever do to him?

She was still several feet away when Acidity broke the surface. “Shoot her!” He yelled at his minions as he climbed out of the water. They clumsily pulled out guns, slowly took aim, and started firing in her general direction. Marla quickly threw herself to the ground, and none of the bullets found their intended target.

She realized it was safe to get up when she heard one of the minions talking. “Lord Acidity,” he said, “I’m out of bullets. What should I do now?”

“Reload, you idiot!”

Seizing the opportunity to act, Marla jumped to her feet and rushed at the nearest minion, punching him very lightly in the face so as not to kill him. He hit the ground rather hard and stopped moving. As she turned to face Acidity, she saw him flinging out his arm just in time to close her eyes and raise her own arm over her face in defense. A stinging stream of acid splashed over her. Rushing forward blindly, she grabbed the monster, swung him around like a discus, and threw him as hard as she could. She looked up to watch him arc through the air, quickly losing sight of him in the fading light. He must have gone at least six blocks, she thought.

Just then the air was filled with a deafening bang, and she felt a tingling sensation in her left shoulder. In an instant she realized that the second henchman had reloaded, and that he had shot her. Fortunately he was close, and she was able to grab and break his wrist before he fired a second round. When she let go of him to pick up the gun and throw it into the acid pool, he ran to his car. By this time the tingling sensation had turned into unbelievable pain, and Marla didn’t even try to stop him from driving away.

Episode XXXII

Acidity was in a bad mood. He didn’t like being poked and prodded. He didn’t like the tank he was being kept in. It was heated and the acid was kept fresh, but it felt stale and artificial compared to the thermal pools at the resort, and it wasn’t big enough to swim around in. He also didn’t like never being let out of the tank. The fact that four of the scientists had acid burns on their hands and faces might have something to do with their reluctance to let him out, but they had brought the attacks on themselves. If they locked him up and treated him like an animal, how did they expect him to act?

Anyway, he didn’t want them to know how intelligent he was. He was careful not to talk to them or show any sign that he understood English. He needed to retain every advantage if he wanted to escape. Including the advantage of having two of them as his servants! That was a thrilling discovery. He had known when he injected them that it was something good, but it wasn’t until he had a chance to be alone with them later that he realized they would do anything he said, as long as he kept giving them new injections every couple of days. Already, they had kidnapped the woman who had caused his capture, and they would surely aid in his escape as soon as he could come up with a good plan. The only drawback to these minions was that the injection slowed them down both physically and mentally; they could be depended on to follow orders but not to think.

Once he escaped, the first order of business would be to deal with Marla Stewart. He hadn’t decided yet whether to kill her or inject her. Maybe he would inject her, order her around for a while, and then kill her later. He also wanted his things back from the hotel room, but had recently discovered that getting them might be impractical. When the scientists were collecting blood and tissue samples, they had taken him out of his tank for an extended period. They (and he) had realized that he continuously secreted acid from glands all over his body. On the one hand, this was useful for flinging acid in the faces of his captors, but on the other hand, it meant that most things he came in contact with were in danger of dissolving.

At any rate, he wouldn’t be able to do anything until his minions returned. This was the other reason he was in a bad mood: They were late. He had sent them to feed the prisoner, and they had been gone nearly two days. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the injection to wear off, but they normally were begging for a fresh one after a day and a half. If they were gone too long, and it did wear off…in a sudden fit of rage, he hurled himself against the side of the tank. This accomplished nothing, but it hurt, so he forced himself to calm down. After brooding for another hour or so, he drifted off to sleep.

Acidity was awakened by the sound of violent coughing. He was disoriented at first, but quickly realized that the coughing was coming from one of his minions, who had finally returned. When the coughing subsided, the man stumbled across the lab and up to the tank. He doesn’t look drunk, Acidity thought. What’s wrong with him?

“Lord Acidity,” the man began before collapsing in another coughing fit. When he was able to stand again, he undid the latch on the tank lid, allowing his master to push it open and climb out while he coughed some more. “Please,” he gasped. “I need…an injection.” Acidity gave him one. The effect was almost immediate. The man stood up straight, stopped coughing, and aside from the glazed-over look in his eyes, appeared to be in much better health.

“Is that better?” Acidity asked.

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. The headache and dizziness are going away.”

“Good. I’m glad you are feeling better. Now, please tell me something. WHY ARE YOU LATE???”

“Please don’t be angry, my lord! I came back as soon as the police let me go!”

“Police? You let yourself be caught by the police?”

“I couldn’t help it, my lord! They pulled me out of the lake.”

Acidity took a deep breath and reminded himself that his minion was an idiot. “You were supposed to be feeding the prisoner! What did you do, decide to go for a swim?”

“No, my lord! She threw me in!”

Stay calm, Acidity thought to himself. Just keep asking questions. He won’t lie to you. “Who threw you in?”

“M-Marla Stewart, my lord.”

“WHAT?!?” Acidity punctuated this outburst with a violent hand gesture, which had the unfortunate effect of splashing acid on his minion, who began writhing on the floor when the corrosive liquid hit him. “Oh, quit whimpering and get up!” He ordered. The man stood up. “How did she manage to throw you in the lake? You are bigger than her, there were two of you, and you had a gun. Explain this to me.”

“I-I don’t know, my lord. She broke Ed’s hand and then she bent the gun barrel. And she picked me up and threw me like I didn’t weigh anything. She’s very strong, my lord.”

“Very strong.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“But you tied her up and drove her down there with no problems.”

“She didn’t fight us then.”

“She bent the gun barrel?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“With her bare hands?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You saw this happen? With your eyes?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Okay, I give up. Let’s pretend I believe your story for a minute. She fought you guys off, beat you up, and threw you in the lake. Then you swam to shore and got picked up by the police. What happened to Marla and Ed?”

“I don’t know, my lord. I was on the other side of the lake.”

“She threw you all the way across?”

“She threw me to the middle, my lord.”

There was a long pause. “Okay, what did you tell the police?”

“Nothing, my lord. They held me for questioning because they thought I was on drugs, and because someone saw me fly through the air and told them about it. But I told them nothing.”

“Did you go back to the cabin when they let you go?”

“There was no time, my lord. I was desperate for a new injection.”

“So it’s probably safe for me to assume that Marla has escaped and Ed is no longer my servant.” The man gave no reply, and Acidity didn’t expect one. He thought for a few minutes, then started talking to his minion just to put his thoughts in order. “If Marla is really as tough as you say, then she’s a big problem. Before I can deal with her, I’ll have to get out of here. I was waiting to escape until I could come up with a plan to make sure they don’t recapture me, but now I’m down one servant with no immediate prospects of getting any new ones, as long as I stay here. It’s now or never. I’ve got to leave tonight. What time is it?”

“About one-fifteen, my lord.”

“So we’ve got less than five hours. I need to go somewhere where they won’t find me. I can’t go back to the resort, because that’s the first place they’ll look. Where is the acid for this tank stored?”

“In canisters in the next room, my lord.”

“Good. We’ll take as many of those as will fit in your car. I’ll also need a disguise, so that I can check into a hotel. That will have to work until I can come up with a better location. I can’t go back to my home, because I don’t know if anyone’s made the connection between me and, um, me, and if they haven’t then I’m probably thought to be dead. I still wish I had a way to be sure they won’t come after me again. Why did they want me in the first place?”

“Grant money, my lord.” Acidity hadn’t been expecting an answer, and was pleasantly surprised to receive one.

“Grant money?”

“Yes, my lord. A research project like you could bring millions of dollars.”

“So who have they told about me?”

“No one yet, my lord. They wanted enough information to write a good introductory paper.”

“So they’re motivated by finances?”

“Mostly, my lord.”

“Hmm…How much do you think the equipment in this building is worth?”

“At least ten million dollars, my lord.”

“So they’d probably not like to lose it?”

“Definitely not, my lord.”

“Good. Maybe after we burn the building to the ground, they’ll think twice about messing with me again. Come on! We’ve got a lot of preparations to make and not much time.”

* * *

At 6:19 that morning, fire trucks arrived at D.S. Scientific Studies Lab in response to a 911 call made by a paperboy with a cell phone. By the time they got there, the building was mostly collapsed, and the remains were entirely engulfed in flame. Chemicals in the building made the fire difficult to control. When it was finally extinguished, analysis revealed that the fire was started by several explosions from various locations inside the building, and that the chemicals which were supposed to be stored in fire-retardant containers had been dumped out. Twelve lab employees were killed in the explosions, which occurred a few minutes after they arrived to work.

An hour or so earlier on the same morning, two men checked into a seedy hotel in the slums on the north side of Daze Springs. One of the men was wearing a biohazard suit. The woman who checked them in didn’t ask questions; that was a good way to get hurt in that part of town. After paying for a week in advance, the men hauled several large canisters into their room. They had no other luggage.

Episode XXXI

By Yokanchi

Marla arrived home that evening. She decided not to say anything about what had happened -- always trying to stay undercover, or at least not in the lime light. If she were to say anything about that day the news would be crawling over her like ants on honey, and anyone who wanted to know where she was could find her quickly enough.

Well, she thought, The best thing to do is just act normal. So the next day she decided to go shopping. After all what better way to go unwind after a particularly stressful day of beating up evil monster-possessed people?

So she decided to...

Wait a minute... she thought to herself. She suddenly noticed the absence of the familiar presence of her grandmother's ring. Lifting her hand up to check, she discovered it missing.

Why those thieving... She grew angry again suddenly realizing that the kidnappers must have thought it had some amount of worth and stole it.

"Oh sure!" She commented to herself. They would think that I had something of theirs but didn't even give a thought about stealing a bit themselves. She violently slammed her hand down on the end table next to her bed smashing the supporting leg to splinters. Quickly she subdued her anger, remembering what happened last time she had a surge of anger like this one.

Am I going crazy or what? Those fumes must have effected my brain, she scolded herselfwhile getting ready for bed. After getting over her strange surge in anger the sudden rush of adrenaline was gone and she jumped into bed and turned out the lights, lapsing into a restful sleep immediately.

* * *

Marla woke to the sun streaming over her bed. She quickly looked over at her clock.

"11:21am" It flashed.

Wow! I must have really been wiped, she thought. Quickly she got dressed and decided to put on some jewelry. Nothing too flashy today. But maybe I'll just get a little fancy. She tried on a golden necklace she had been given from a very good friend. Suddenly she felt weaker. Immediately she lost her balance, her muscles went limp and she fell
to the floor hitting her head on the dresser on the way down.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later:

Suddenly she woke.

What am I doing here and why am I on the floor? She got up and sat on a nearby chair. Feeling her head she realized there was a large bump on it. Getting up to get some ice she wondered silently why she had suddenly collapsed. On her way to the kitchen she noticed her gold necklace lying on the floor, and made a mental note to herself to put that away later.

Episode XXVII

“Why didn’t I question them?” Marla berated herself as she drove. “I don’t know anything about this Lord Acidity, I don’t know why he wants me and,” she abruptly slammed on the brakes. “And I don’t know where I am. Now Marla, how were you expecting to get home? Did you hope that a GPS mapping device would just appear on the dashboard. Stupid, stupid.” As she chided herself Marla quickly decided that she had to turn around and go back to the cabin. Before moving into a three-point turn she swiftly opened the glove box and checked under her seat, but as she had suspected there were no maps to be found—and anyway, she had no idea what road she was on, or if it would even appear on a printed map.

Angry at herself and the men that had kidnapped her Marla sent the van speeding back towards the cabin, its wheels kicking up gravel from the backcountry road. In only a few moments she was pulling up in front of the cabin and pulling the keys out of the ignition. With grim determination she jumped out of the van and only remembered not to slam its door at the very last minute, catching the door and still managing to slightly damage the handle. Though she quickly put this damage behind her she caused much more as she scuffed her feet across the grass, kicking large furrows in the vegetation.

Marla was in a truly foul mood by the time she kicked down the cabin door, after having demolished two stumps in the yard, two of the porch steps, and one of the handrails. The front room was empty and the newly minted heroine stared around dumbstruck until she remembered that there was another room on the back of the cabin, the bedroom where she had been sequestered. Of course, she reasoned, the coward must be hiding back there, trembling in fear. Anticipating catching the cowering man in the closet Marla confidently strode into her former prison turning towards the closet when she heard a noise to the side and barely raised her arm in time to block the blow of a hardened piece of pipe that been set on a collision course with her head.

Though she had been miraculously been gifted with super strength Marla was definitely not invulnerable. Her arm was moving up as the bar came down and so she was able to stop its progress and deflect it away, however it still hurt! She stifled a curse and fell down on one knee while cradling her arm; she knew it would be have a large bruise in the morning. Of course a moment later she realized the bruise was the least of her concerns and she shot her uninjured arm out to grab the henchman’s collar. With ease she pulled him upwards and shoved him against the wall, causing a large dent to form in the rough outline of his torso and head. Marla yelled at the man, demanding that he tell her what the “acid monster” wanted with her. When the man annoyingly responded only with “Lord Acidity will deal with you,” she lost her cool again and threw him across the room hard enough to break through the wall into the cabin’s second bedroom.

The broken-fingered man slid across the floor into the opposite wall where he tried to sit up. Before he could lever himself upwards Marla had reached him and she again picked him up and slammed him into the wall, this time right next to a window overlooking the lake. With a fierce growl she ordered him to answer her question, but again he refused, though not quite as defiantly as before. Frustrated she slammed her left fist forward into the wall, but accidentally struck the window and knocked it completely out of its frame. The hotel owner was so surprised by this that she stood in shocked silence looking out over the lake. After a moment she looked for the other henchman, wondering if he would be more cooperative. However, when she finally spotted him he was on the far side of the lake, apparently being pulled to shore by another man. She wondered if it was a lifeguard, but she figured that it didn’t matter—the other man would probably attack him and try to return to “Lord Acidity.”

Marla turned her attention back to the man pinned against the wall and was about to punch him when all that she had done finally sunk in. With a shock she fully came to her senses and took in the destruction she had caused. She remembered doing everything, of course, but she didn’t know why. Normally she never got this mad, and especially not mad enough to want to kill someone as dead as she had wished this henchman was. Deciding that she wouldn’t get any information out of the man Marla decided to render him unconscious but wasn’t sure exactly how. Finally, thinking that it was worth a try she attempted a Vulcan Nerve Pinch, but she quickly realized she had no Vulcan blood as her powerful fingers slipped and broke his collarbone. This pain was more acute than any she had intentionally delivered and it finally broke through the man’s defenses.

“Lord Acidity wants to silence you. You caused his capture!” The man groaned and then added in an begrudging aside, “of course that was what led to me being able to serve him you were useful.”

“Continue,” Marla ordered, though she was more subdued than when she had thrown the man against the wall. Even if she was feeling calmer she recognized that it was only his pain that kept him talking and that she needed to keep him pinned against the wall to maximize the pain and therefore she did not let him move.

“You also have something that belongs to him; you have stolen from Lord Acidity.”

“What?” the hotel manager interjected. “I am no thief, though you’re one to talk! You stole me away from my hotel.”

“My lord left items in your trust; yet you have kept them even after he appeared to you.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The only stuff I have that isn’t mine is unclaimed property from guests—and I know your Lord Acidity hasn’t stayed at my hotel, I’m sure that I would remember him.”

“You are mistaken, you have stolen from him!”

“Talk about a one track mind,” Marla muttered, then remembering the other reason she had returned she returned to questioning.

“Where are we?”

“Westwood Lake.”

“Of course!” Marla was disgusted with herself. She had never been to Westwood Lake, but she realized now that it was the only lake of this size anywhere near Daze Springs. She tried to question the man for several more minutes, but she couldn’t think of anything particularly relevant and the man’s pain was obviously growing worse.

Finally she dropped the henchman to the floor and used a strip of curtain to bind his hands together. Another strip served to fasten his ankles and a third to bind his four limbs together. She was fairly confident that he would never be able to loosen the knots that held her primitive hog-tying attempt together; she didn’t even think she with her enhanced strength could separate the knots after she’d tightened them. One of the man’s extremely foul socks had served as an effective gag, though Marla had been loathe to touch it. Not for the first time Marla wondered if single men ever bothered to wash their clothing or if they just wore it until it rotted off and they had to replace it.

Relieved to be leaving the cabin behind Marla looked out of the empty window frame onto the lake. She could barely see the lifeguard on the far shore, and disturbingly she could clearly see a patrol car next to him. The last thing she needed was to be found in this cabin. Who would believe her story that she had just woken up with greatly increased strength. Furthermore she would have to contact the FBI in so that they could explain her records, and she didn’t want the sheriff’s department finding out that she was in the Witness Protection Program. She didn’t really want to relocate, especially not now when she wouldn’t be able to obtain a good price for her hotel. And she desperately wanted to find out what Acidity really wanted. She knew the story from the henchman couldn’t be true—the monster hadn’t ever come near the actual hotel building, he couldn’t have anything of his inside.

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?