Into the Past With Strangers

[csyphrett]

1

Mad George Tribolyte ran his slender fingers through his long, curly hair. He sat in his favorite arm chair, glass of wine at his elbow. He wanted a cigar, but decided to wait until he had talked to his guest.

He would need a cigar after his talk.

"They have arrived, sir." Mister Cook's brawn needed the tailored uniform he wore as the butler. His expression expressed disapproval.

"Put the entourage in the parlor." Tribolyte sipped his wine. "Escort the Baron here so we can have our meeting."

"Very good, sir." Mister Cook left the room in dignified silence.

Mr. Cook returned moments later with Tribolyte's visitor. The man wore an overcoat over a civilian suit. The man could be shot as a spy if caught visiting a British national.

"Hello, Baron." George offered a glass but was declined. "I assume your superiors briefed you on my offer."

"No." The Baron watched his host with sharp eyes. The butler had put his two aides in another room by the scruff of their necks. "I was told you were willing to offer information to us for a price. I was not told what you know."

The Baron had also been told to shoot the man if he was wasting time.

"There is a device that can change the way the war will run." Tribolyte held up his hand to forestall any interruption. "Very few know about it, and no one knows where it is. On the other hand, there is a map. It has been broken up and scattered across the world. Once this map has been reassembled, it will take us to this device which I will tell you how to use in return for certain considerations."

"Proof?" The Baron crossed his arms. Evidence to justify wild claims was needed before he returned to Berlin without shooting this stranger.

"What proof would justify my claim?" Tribolyte sipped his wine. "I have a piece of the map. I know where some of the other pieces are."

"I would like to see this piece that you spoke of." The Baron wondered how gullible he was supposed to be.

"Certainly." Tribolyte waved a hand. The butler entered the room with a covered tray. He lifted the tray for the Baron to examine the stone on the silver. "Please, don't touch."

The Baron pulled a magnifying glass from his coat pocket. He used that to go over the surface of the piece of stone. He wondered about the markings on the surface. He couldn't quite make out what they were supposed to be.

"How do I know this is authentic if I am not permitted to touch it?" The Baron felt sure that the piece belonged to some group of ancients that he had studied. He couldn't remember which one.

He wanted to take the piece and fly through the window. He refrained from doing that since the Englishman might tell him something valuable as the meeting progressed.

"Mr. Cook." Tribolyte waved the butler over. "Watch what happens, my good Baron."

Tribolyte took the tray in both hands, holding it away from his body. A light erupted from the surface of the silver. Six large fragments fitted next to the one piece the Englishman held. The Baron noted other pieces had been implied, but remained invisible under the glow of the other man's influence.

"Very impressive." The Baron put his glass away. "Why would you give this secret to my country?"

"I'm not giving it to you." Tribolyte handed the tray back to his servant. "I'm selling it to you with the provisions that I have the right to claim ownership at any time in our partnership."

"You expect us to assist you in gathering the pieces of the map, fund an expedition to the final resting place of the treasure, and then hand it over to you?" The Baron laughed. "I don't think that's possible."

Tribolyte laughed too.

"Yes." Tribolyte's face turned deadly serious. "That's exactly what I expect, and what you will do."

"I don't see it." The Baron pursed his lips.

"In the two years since your Hitler has taken over as the Chancellor, he has started expeditions all over the world for mystical instruments and knowledge." Tribolyte waved a hand to forestall any disagreement. "I'm offering something that he will want but can't use without my assistance. A little consideration is not out of order."

"You're asking for more than a little consideration." The Baron shook his head. He was in a tight spot. He needed to at least look like he was trying to secure the prize for the Fatherland.

"That's fine." Tribolyte waved his hand again. Mr. Cook appeared without the tray in his hands. "Show the Baron out. I will sell the map to the Home Office."

"Wait." The Baron raised a hand to keep the butler from trying to manhandle him. "I will allow you to use the treasure as long as you do not threaten Germany."

"Then we have a deal?" Tribolyte pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one with a match.

"Yes." The Baron looked sick. "When do you want to start this gathering process?"

"Tomorrow will be soon enough." Tribolyte smiled. "No one else knows enough to try to gather the map on their own. If we're cautious, no one will know that we have the map until it's too late."

"I will let my superiors know what you propose." The Baron turned to leave the room.

"Don't take too long." Tribolyte silently directed Mr. Cook to make sure he didn't come back until their talk.

"I'm sure there will be an answer in a few hours." The Baron shrugged at the door. "What the answer will be I couldn't tell you."

"I understand completely." Tribolyte nodded as the other man paused at the door to look back at him in his white suit and spats. "Politicians aren't to be trusted with anything of importance."

"We'll see what they will decide and I will return to discuss the specifics of things." The Baron headed out of the garage and started for the door. His companions joined him at the door.

"Come along, men." The Baron stepped out of the door. He wasn't going to give the Englishman satisfaction of the look on his face. "I need to report in."

[bubba smith]

cysyprett strikes again good work

[csyphrett]

2

Codename: V frowned in the shadows cast by a townhouse on the edges of Embassy Row. Something was going on two places down the row. A lookout stood on the street to warn of raids.

V decided to see what the back of the houses looked like. Information had been forwarded through several sections before reaching him. The Germans had been given something to put them on the trail of some new weapon.

The moles didn't know what.

V frowned at the lookout in the alley behind the house row. The light from a cigarette betrayed him crouching beside a trashcan. The agent watched for other enemies as he decided on his next course of action.

Codename: V waited until he was sure he was alone in the alley with the lookout. He vaulted over the top of the nearest fence as silent as a shadow, black long coat belted tight to prevent flapping. He became one with the shadows on the other side of the fence, moving silently to the other side of the yard. He swung over that fence too.

The lookout hid to the agent's left. The house's back door beckoned to the right. V glided to the back door. He would just have to chance the guard coming behind him if he wanted to sneak around inside the house to find out what was going on.

The agent avoided light from the windows as he searched the house silently. Voices drew him upstairs where he paused at the open door. He didn't need to break things up if he could gather intelligence first.

"It looks like we're to execute our orders." The commanding officer's German was precise, almost military. "I will arrange for another meeting with the contact. Prepare to move out. Clean the house. I have a feeling that we won't be in England for much longer."

That was interesting.

Codename: V retreated from the door as footsteps approached. He hid in a shadow from a window in the otherwise barren hall. He remained motionless as the commander appeared and headed downstairs.

V moved back to the door. Four men worked on stuffing papers into a metal trash bin. One of them had a can of petrol in his hand. The agent needed those papers to trail the operation. He couldn't let the spies burn them.

V pulled up a black scarf to hide his foxy features. He pulled two automatics from under his coat. He hated to reveal himself so early in the game. Maybe if he made it look like they escaped him. He puzzled over his plan as he revealed himself in the door.

"Hands up." V changed his voice as he spoke in German. "I don't want to kill you."

The man holding the petrol threw it at the agent in black before reaching for his weapon. The other three men went for weapons holstered on their persons. Reflex carried them forward with their hasty actions before thought told them they were covered.

Codename: V shot the metal can. The bullet punched through, striking sparks off the jagged holes it tore through both sides. The fumes caught as the can bounced against the wall. Streaming gas went up in a spider's web on floor and wall.

The pistol in V's other hand barked with the same lightning speed. Bullets struck wounding blows, stopping efforts to shoot him. The men went down as he came forward to pull the files out of the small bucket.

The wounded spies rushed to the door as V busied himself saving the information from the fire. He let them go. As long as they kept moving, they weren't a threat.

Codename: V frowned at what he could see in the spreading smoke. He tucked the papers away inside his coat for protection. He would give them a better perusal when he was away from danger.

V went to the door. The agents had slammed it shut on him while he had been inspecting his find. He pulled on it. One of the wounded men had been smart enough to tie the door shut somehow.

It was simple solution to their problem. They needed to destroy the files, and kill him. They could let the fire do both if they could keep him in the room. The door and the windows were his only exits.

The agent went to the windows and glanced out. The lookout held a pistol up to shoot him if he jumped to the grass.

V went back to the door. He had noted the hinges were on his side of the door. He put one of his pistols away and dropped a knife in his gloved hand from inside his sleeve. He placed the point of the knife against the top of the pin inside the top hinge. One swing of the pistol popped the pin out. He repeated the action on the bottom hinge. He turned the door cautiously and produced a gap to step into the hall.

No one waited for him there.

He would have left a guard to shoot if the target had done what he had.

Codename: V headed downstairs. He had no doubt that they would cover the doors to keep him inside the townhouse. They had until police and firemen arrived on the scene.

The smoke would kill him first.

Codename: V paused in the kitchen. A glance outside the back window told him that they were watching the back of the place. He had no doubt he could shoot his way out. He wanted them to think he was dead. He examined the stove. That might help him fake his death.

The agent pulled the stove away from the wall. One yank freed the gas line. He let the fumes fill the room as he moved the refrigerator to give him some cover for the resulting explosion. He retreated to the dining room. He struck a match and threw it in the gas filled kitchen. The explosion blew the back of the townhouse off. It also blinded and battered the sentry.

Codename: V slipped away while the enemy agent tried to gather his wits about him.

[csyphrett]

csyphrett strikes again good work

Hopefully it will be okay at the end.
CES

[csyphrett]

Doc Shadow jumped out of a window to avoid the bullets coming his way. He landed in a shrub and looked for cover. Bullets dug in behind him as he streaked to the corner of the building. At that angle, the attackers were forced to stop shooting.

Doctor Algernon Shadow planned his next move as he roamed to the front of the mansion. He straightened his jacket and tie as he went. The broken glass had not cut the toughened weave of his jacket and pants as he burst through the frame.

Doc Shadow whistled as he thought. He stood tall, moved silently, and had a face that changed to suit whatever expression he wanted instead of how he felt. Keen eyes pierced the darkness outside the lamps surrounding the mansion.

They hadn't been stupid enough to try and follow him.

Doc Shadow reached under his jacket and pulled out the pistol he used to deliver the special projectiles he made. He needed to mark a target. He didn't want to stop them just yet.

He wanted to know what was going on before he tried to stop what was going on.

The best way to do that was to find the mastermind and request an explanation.

The best way to do that is to follow the henchmen back to their boss.

Doc Shadow paused when he spotted an idling car in the looped driveway in front of the mansion. He blended into the shadows, sliding a cartridge from inside his jacket into the breech of the weapon. He waited silently.

A friend had called from overseas. He had said his government was interested in the movement of certain individuals who might be arriving. The tip had paid off.

Doc usually didn't mix with politics. He preferred to help all of humanity when possible, the needy most of all, and the desperate before anyone else. Lending aid to a government was not quite what he liked to do.

That the problem may affect the whole world was enough to draw him into the situation.

Doc took aim with the pistol. He fired at the roof of the vehicle. The shell broke open, releasing a cloud that quickly faded away. Long fingers pulled the slide back to make sure the next round was his trademarked gas bullet.

He couldn't let them go too easily. They would know it was a trick.

Masked men in trenchcoats came out of the mansion. They fired back into the house. Doc Shadow frowned. He hoped no one had been hurt by that. He had stashed the owner of the house in a closet. If the man had got free and got in the way, that could be a lead problem for him.

Doc took aim and sent one shell into the center of the mass. A cloud blasted darkness straight up. Some of the men fell down. The leaders kept running. The car backed up to give them some kind of cover.

Doc aimed for the back of the car and let another one go. It didn't matter if the column of darkness blew off the trunk. He wanted to hurry them along, not stop them.

The men piled into the automobile. They slammed the doors to close the gas out. Their eyes searched the night but they didn't wind the windows down to shoot. The driver rolled forward.

Doc put the pistol away as he watched the car roll down the long driveway. Then he surged into the house. He needed a phone.

Doc had a lot of contacts he could call to help out. He needed to put that network in operation to string his net up.

He couldn't let his trap fail because he didn't have anyone to watch for the chemical he had sprayed the car. A special lamp lit up the chemical. All he needed was a plane equipped with the lamp.

"What's going on, Dr. Shadow?" Lawrence Talbot rushed out, hunting rifle in hand. His pince nez hung from a cord around his neck.

"I don't know yet." Doc took the rifle while directing the man back inside his house. "I need to use your phone."

"Anything." Talbot perched his glass on his nose. "You saved my life with your warning."

"Let me use the phone." Doc Shadow spotted the device on a table in a parlor off the great welcome hall. "I'll get some people out to clean things up here while I'm trying to find out what's going on."

"Thank you." Talbot wiped his face. "Do you think they will come back?"

"I will call for guards." Doc Shadow doubted the thieves would be back. They thought they had what they came for already.

"Thank you." Talbot smiled. "That's a load off my mind."

Doc Shadow made his calls. He made sure to get the plane into the air first, then called for a clean up detail for the men he had put to sleep. They would be flown to a private retreat to be retrained to fit into society. That was the best he could do for them. Then he called a security company to have them secure the grounds until the thing was over.

He just needed to find out what the thing was before it was over.

[death tribble]

So I am back and up to no good.

That's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it, uh huh, uh huh.

[csyphrett]

So I am back and up to no good.

That's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it, uh huh, uh huh.

A good villain is hard to find.
CES

[death tribble]

A good villain is hard to find.
CES

Aw shucks.
I bet you say that to all the posters.

[csyphrett]

4


Tim Daschle straightened his black tie with his twelve year old hands. He adjusted his hat. Fingers pulled on his overlarge jacket. He pulled on sunglasses in case he needed to have his vision blocked from things he should not see.

His companion did the same thing with his matching clothes. He looked down at the boy. Disapproval hardened his features.

"You should be at home." Sparks burned in the man's eyes for a moment.

"I'm done with chores and stuff." Tim glared up at his companion. "Excitement is my business."

"Excitement will get you killed." The companion shrugged in his black suit. "Let's talk to these men you noticed sneaking around."

"No problem, G.A." Tim smiled. "I love talking."

"Just stay out of the way." G.A. frowned again. "I don't want you to get in trouble. You're folks wouldn't approve."

"You take all the fun out of things." Tim grumbled.

"I'm not your provider of fun." G.A. paused at the entrance of a large warehouse. He looked around, eyes searching behind his sunglasses. "Wait here."

The warehouse stood on the docks facing the Pacific. Traffic rolled on Old Troy's streets behind them. A large sedan sat beside the warehouse inside the fence around the lot. A security guard sprawled inside the booth. Blood smeared the front of his shirt.

G.A. walked to the door of the warehouse. It stood open. A bloody handprint marked the doorknob. He stepped inside to talk with the men roaming the building.

"Excuse me." G.A.'s voice stretched out across the warehouse. "I'm here to ask the man who shot the guard to step forward."

A hoard of gunmen swarmed forward. They emptied bullets into the man in black. They paused when he didn't fall down.

"I have something to show you." G.A. reached for his sunglasses. "Look me in the eyes."

Vapors exploded from his eyes. They reached for the gunmen. Some of them ducked their faces away. They lived. Those that didn't died with holes burnt where their eyes used to look at things. The survivors retreated as G.A. stepped forward.

"Don't run off." G.A.'s shadow sprouted wings as he walked into the warehouse. "I still want to talk to you."

Men scrambled backwards to get away from the explosive vision. One of them called out. They rallied toward that man. They had their prize. They had to rendezvous with the other groups gathering pieces around the world.

Eyeballs exploding was not on the list of orders.

G.A. stalked forward. Exploding eyeballs was on his list.

The men ran to the back of the building toward the loading docks. If they could get out that way, they could separate and head for a gathering point. Some of them thought about grabbing the sedan and riding out.

Their plan required some of their comrades getting blown up.

Naturally sacrifices had to be made for the Fatherland.

G.A. walked to the back of the warehouse. He flew forward when he heard the doors rolling open. He wanted to at least talk to one of them. Then he could find out why they killed a guard to find this thing among the boxes.

The winged man passed through the boxes to get to the scattering crowd of minions. A sword appeared in his hand. Flame lined the blade. He didn't think they would look at him again.

That would have made things too easy.

G.A. caught up with one of the men. He grabbed the minion's collar. A scream answered his cold touch.

"You want to talk to me?" G.A. stared into the man's eyes. "I think you do."

"Nein." The man fired his pistol into his attacker's chest. The bullet passed through with a ripple of G.A.'s substance.

"Have a hot time then." The sword stabbed the thief. Hands dragged the man into the concrete with a puff of fire.

G.A. looked around. Some of the men headed for the ocean. Some ran out of view. He heard the car start up. Someone had got to the wheels. He decided to cut it off before it got away from the yard.

He flew back through the building, passing through everything like air. He came out of the wall as the sedan roared on the street. He turned to head the driver off. He needed to scare someone bad enough to make them talk.

The winged man passed through anything in his way, eyes on the speeding sedan. He stepped out in front of the rolling car. His sword plunged into the engine as the automobile slid through him. The motor broke into fragments as neatly as a mechanic taking the thing apart piece by piece with a wrench.

The car rolled to a stop. The driver jumped out, pistol aimed at the winged apparition. Fear and desperation marked his face.

"Don't think that will do anything." G.A. stared at the man, blade gleaming by his side. "I'll let you go home if you tell me what's going on."

The wheelman raised the pistol to his head. Let this thing talk to his corpse. You couldn't believe a monster.

G.A. stepped forward, swinging the sword. His wings unfurled and flapped to give him extra speed. The burning blade sliced the man's arm in two. The part with the hand holding the gun fell to the asphalt.

"You should have taken the deal." The winged man put the blade to the driver's chin. "Beelzebub will have a devil set aside for you."

"Wait." The English held the accent of the Fatherland. "I don't know anything. Please don't kill me."

"What were you looking for in the warehouse?" G.A. didn't pull the sword away.

"A piece of rock." The driver looked at the flaming blade instead of his questioner's face. His remaining hand hovered as if not certain what to do. "I don't know what it means."

"Where are you people meeting if you separated?" A rallying point would be set up in case of trouble. That was standard operating procedure.

"We have a boat up the coast." The driver felt confident that he would live. Cooperation might allow him to escape trouble.

He wasn't certain from the look in the man in black's face.

"You can go." The sword dropped. "The arm will be waiting for you when you die."

Ghost Angel stabbed the arm. A rotten hand dragged it into the asphalt like a shark seizing prey.

"What are you looking at?" Ghost Angel raised his burning sword. "Get the heck out of here."

The man ran, clutching his cauterized stump.

"Where the heck is Tim?"

[bubba smith]

the nazi spiefound andcaputurehim i think

[DusterBoy]

Wow. Ghost Angel is one scary mofo in that episode, and that sword he's got it even scarier that he is. I do not want to get in his way. At all. No sir.

Brilliant work, csyphrett, as always. I am agog for the next installment.

PS: Is Dusterboy going to make an appearance in this one?

[csyphrett]

Wow. Ghost Angel is one scary mofo in that episode, and that sword he's got it even scarier that he is. I do not want to get in his way. At all. No sir.

Brilliant work, csyphrett, as always. I am agog for the next installment.

PS: Is Dusterboy going to make an appearance in this one?

I can do that but the character would only be like ten in 1935 if he was infected in the fifties. Let me look at the chronology.
CES

[DusterBoy]

I can do that but the character would only be like ten in 1935 if he was infected in the fifties. Let me look at the chronology.
CES

Oh, well, don't distort the chronology just to pander to my ego. :D I can wait 'till the next storyline.

(Shifting impatiently in my chair, it is true, but I can wait)

[csyphrett]

I have a bunch of idea written down from an invasion to the world's slickest villain to small legacies coming forward. Duster Boy is down for a cure at one point but I also have a monster hunting story to put on him.
CES

[DusterBoy]

I have a bunch of idea written down from an invasion to the world's slickest villain to small legacies coming forward. Duster Boy is down for a cure at one point but I also have a monster hunting story to put on him.
CES

Cool. As long as I'm the one doing the huntng, not the one being hunted. Having all those buggers after me in the last storyline was enough.

*DB goes off to handload more silver bullets for his revolvers*

[csyphrett]

5

Dr. Haven Walkur stepped around the altar, examining its top with a magnifying glass. She pulled her curly brown hair back out of the way. The jungle heat made her hair frizz around the rubber band she used to tie it back.

Dr. Walkur pulled at the top gently along a seam. She reversed the movement. The stone flipped out of the way. A stone triangle rested in a niche carved from the rock. A step back gave her a look at the frowning face on the altar's front.

She put it down as a definite warning.

Haven picked up the stone triangle and ran her glass over it. She picked out definite writing. She couldn't read it. That brought a frown. Languages was a specialty she knew something about after her years on the road.

Haven placed the triangle in wrapping paper. She stuck it in her carrying bag. She judged that it wasn't too fragile to carry it that way. The glass went in her jacket pocket. She took one more look around the room without moving anything but her head.

Haven turned and headed for the front door. She took care to avoid certain stones in the floor. A stick had shown they caused stones to fall from the ceiling when she had reached the central chamber. She straightened her pith helmet as she started the long winding track to the front door of the structure her expedition had uncovered.

Haven paused in the front atrium of the temple. Something was wrong with the camp. She stood in the shadows as she tried to figure out the problem.

Shadows flickered around the camp fires. They skulked, not walked like the members of her party would do. She decided to be silent and watch before moving.

Soldiers resolved out of the night. They pointed weapons at the temple. Haven pulled back more. She didn't think about anything but how to get out of there. She doubted any of the others were alive.

Haven decided the best thing to do was get out of there. She didn't expect them to not shoot a woman. She could circle back to check on the others.

She doubted she would find any of them alive.

Haven cursed that she wore a skirt as she edged out of the block face. The good doctor slid into darkness, pushing aside the heavy foliage with a gloved hand. She kept one eye over her shoulder as she passed from tree to tree.

The soldiers entered the temple behind her. She hoped they stepped on one of those blocks. That would not make her happy, but it was the best she could hope for at the moment.

Haven made her way to the river. The water flowed gently through the jungle to the Amazon. Her group had sailed up the tributary to get to their camp site. She paused to examine the boats they had pulled from the stream. Holes had been punched below the water line.

The doctor wondered how the soldiers had reached the place. She started down the river.

Haven moved through the grass, trying to be silent in the jungle. She expected guards to be posted in case they missed someone from the camp. The boats would be the first thing anyone would look for to get away.

Haven found the motorboats anchored to the shore with rope tied to trees. She spotted the guard standing at inattention. A cigarette glowed in the jungle darkness. The doctor looked for more guards than the one.

Haven prowled the trees but found no one else. She had one opponent to deal with before she could take the boat and get out of there.

Haven picked up the biggest stick she could carry and moved around until she could start sneaking up on the one cigarette glow. She stepped on a branch. A light went on, looking for her. She froze to imitate a tree. The beam went by without pause. The doctor jumped and swung. The limb broke in half in her hands.

Haven threw the other half of the club away as she pulled a pistol belt from the guard. She didn't know how to use one of the fancy machine guns the Germans had. A pistol was another matter.

Haven took the guard's pants. She pulled them on, and discarded her skirt. She cut a hole in the belt to allow her to tighten it around her waist.

Haven swung onto the boat. She cut the rope and floated downstream. She looked at the direction of her campsite. Lights danced in the darkness in search of the one thing that had gotten away from them.

[csyphrett]

6
A careful twist lined the locks at its bottom edge to the locks in the neck of his special suit. A little more and the glass bubble locked tight. Air rushed up his neck to his face.

Colby checked the dials built into his gauntlet. They read full power. He could use his suit all night without a problem. He doubted he would need to do that.

Colby twisted the dial built into the side of the belt around his middle. He quickly faded from sight. He laughed. The helmet changed his voice enough to fool anyone who knew him.

The apartment door opened and closed on its own. A few minutes later, the elevator doors did the same thing. Then the exit to the garage built next to the apartment building. Finally a car door opened and closed on its own. Someone appeared behind the wheel, but the darkness shaded his appearance from view.

Colby drove out of the garage and headed down the street. He had an appointment to keep and he needed to hurry if he wanted to make it.

Someone planned to rob the Natural History Museum. He had decided to stop it if he could. That was the reason he had been given the suit in the first place.

Colby had learned this information by eavesdropping on the local criminals that hung out around the docks. They knew something was up, but none of the important information he needed. That's why he had decided to put himself inside the building and waiting for them to strike.

Colby parked his car in an alley behind the museum. He hid it behind a set of trashcans. He activated his suit and faded away. Now he had to get in the building without tripping an alarm, or running into a guard.

Colby jogged around the building, pausing at the front entrance. The door stood open. That couldn't be good.

Colby rushed into the building. He discovered a guard on the floor near the front entrance. Blood leaked from the three holes in his shirt. Where had they gone?

Colby started searching the building. He needed to find the thieves. They had already killed once. They would do it again.

Colby found the gang in the Sumerian Room. Two of them were taking a stone fragment from a display case and putting it in a bag. Two more held the other guard at gun point. One shouted directions in what sounded like German to Colby.

That was the leader from the looks of things.

Colby needed to get the guard out of the way before they killed him. That should be easy for an invisible man.

Colby pulled the electro pistol he had been given with the suit. He pointed it at the guard's guards. It wouldn't kill them. It would put them down long enough for him to get things sorted out.

Colby pulled the trigger. A bolt of lightning appeared out of nowhere. He appeared briefly in the middle of the room. That was enough for the leader to spot his position and start shooting at him.

Colby ducked behind a column as bullets flew his way. The suit made him invisible, not invulnerable.

The leader gave orders to his men as he laid down cover fire at the column. He couldn't see his target, so he spread his bullets along that side of the room. The men left the room through the other door, shooter leaving last.

Colby checked the guard. The man groaned. The invisible man took a moment to tie up his two captives before trying to follow the thieves through the building. There were only two exits that he knew about and they seemed to be heading for the one at the back.

At least his car was parked back there. He could follow them if he got there fast enough.

Colby reached the back door. He pushed it open with a foot. Bullets answered his move. They had waited on him long enough to try an ambush.

Colby counted a half minute off before throwing open the door. A roar of a car greeted him. He stepped out on the loading dock. The car roared around the corner toward the street.

Colby ran to his own car. It looked untouched. He got behind the wheel and pulled out after the other car. He wondered why Germans would steal some broken artifact from a museum. Something must be involved bigger than trying to ransom it back.

Colby turned off his suit to conserve power. He might need it later. He spotted the other car speeding ahead. He stayed a few cars back, trying to remain invisible in the crowd.

Colby had a knack for blending in. He used it to move invisibly where he could. The suit just enhanced that.

The car headed for the airport. Colby frowned. Traffic would bleed away until only the two of them were on the road. His car would stand out then.

The Pattern Ghost shook his head. He had to chance it.

[csyphrett]

7

Arlo Murray looked down the barrel of a gun. He looked at the man behind the gun. The man looked like a vet to him. He raised his hands to prevent a misunderstanding.

"Can I help you?" Arlo frowned as squad appeared behind the man. Soldiers appearing at his place of business like this to rob him struck him as out of place.

"We want the piece of rock." The man spoke with a trace of an accent.

"Really?" Arlo frowned. Foreign soldiers made things even stranger. "Which one? I have so many."

"You know which one." The soldier gestured with the pistol. "Get it."

"If you say so." Arlo backed up. He looked around.

"Don't think about trying anything." The soldier gestured for Arlo to move away from the counter behind him. "All we want is the piece of tablet and then we'll leave. There's no need for you to get hurt."

"Go ahead." Arlo waved one hand. "I can't stop you."

The soldier looked in the display case. A piece of rock shaped like a fish rested on a pillow. Unknown meaning swam across its surface with archaic lettering.

He smashed the glass with the butt of his pistol. He scooped the rock up and put it in a bag. He backed away from the vandalism.

"I had a key." Arlo kept his hands up to prove how much of a noncombatant he was.

"We'll leave you now." The soldier waved his men out of the store. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

"I never do." Arlo watched them leave. As soon as he was sure they were gone, he rushed to a closet at the back of his place. He opened the door, and jumped inside. He slammed the door behind him.

Moments later a yellow and purple clad figure rode a bike from a hidden passage in the street. He turned and headed down the street. The car of soldiers should be headed this way.

The grinning mask hid a concerned expression. All that fuss over a piece of rock was too much to ask.

The car headed for the airport. Arlo used sidestreets where possible to follow. The soldier he had spoken to rode in the back. The rest of the squad surrounded him. They looked alert to the shopkeeper.

Arlo wanted to know what was going on. He didn't know if he should stop them on the road, or follow them to the end. He had an idea they were meeting an airplane. Maybe he should stop them before they got that far.

Arlo sped up on his bike, rolling until he matched the driver. The soldiers went for weapons when they saw his colorful form streaking beside the car. The masked man pulled a mallet from his saddle bag and swung it against the window. The man behind the wheel flinched. He jerked to the right and the car went into the ditch.

Arlo spun the bike around as he reached into his bag again. A small army of enemies required something that affected an area. That meant his patented pepper bomb.

Arlo threw the sphere against the roof of the car with a purple gloved hand. It laughed until it splatted. A cloud blew up from the impact. Soldiers started coughing from the discharge.

Arlo rode into the crowd, swinging the mallet. He took one on the side of the head. The man went down after bouncing off the hood. His motorcycle ran down another one. His foot took down a third before he rode out the other side.

Three out of six was better than his usual.

Arlo turned the cycle down by pivoting with his foot. The three remaining men had pulled pistols. He dipped into his bag as bullets whizzed by. He flicked off a cap and threw the red stick he had pulled. Bright light covered the scene in a shroud.

Arlo swung the mallet at the nearest man stumbling towards him. The soldier went down.

Arlo threw the giant hammer at the next man. His other hand grabbed a packet from his belt. He kept packages of things hooked to his belt in case he needed them. He threw the container of powder on that guy to keep him busy. The soldier went down, scratching desperately.

Arlo picked up his hammer as he passed the scratching thief. He had one last guy to take care of before things were done. Then he could get to asking questions.

He still needed to know what they wanted with the stone fish.

The last man pointed his pistol in a random action. The flare had him blinded, the pepper had him coughing. He couldn't see the hammer coming for his head. He went down in a heap.

Arlo looked at his catch. He went back to his bike. Spare handcuffs rested in his saddlebag. That should take care of some of his prisoners until he could get the police out to pick them up.

Arlo handcuffed his catch, and put as many as he could in the trunk and back seat of the car. He took the leader for a private talk down the road. He wanted to know why they wanted the fish.

"Wakey, wakey." Arlo slapped his captive in the face.

"Who are you?" The soldier stared at the grinning face in front of him.

"I'm the Comic." Arlo made sure the man couldn't kick, or bite. That would be bad. "Why the stealing, Hans?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The soldier shook his head.

"Try again." Arlo shook the man. "I know you took something from that shop. I want to know why."

"I can't tell you that." The soldier shook his head again. "Orders are orders."

"I'm sure the police will want to know about your orders." Arlo dragged him back to the car. "I'm going to see who's waiting at the airport for you. Be right back."

Arlo put the man in the trunk. Then he retrieved his bike. He roared away down the access. He figured that a plane would be waiting somewhere private and away from the rest of the traffic.

Arlo streaked across the tarmac. He looked for hangars at the back of the place. He doubted he would see swastikas painted on the plane. America was neutral, but not that neutral.

The Comic smiled when he saw a likely job.

[csyphrett]

8


The Baron had rented rooms in Mexico City. Some of his platoon had already arrived with their prizes. Some hadn't. He would have to think of a remedy for that. One group had reported contact with Doctor Algernon Shadow.

That was disastrous. Shadow had earned a reputation for solving mysterious problems. Attracting his attention flirted with failure.

Mad George Tribolyte and his butler arrived in a silver sedan. Tribolyte smoked a cigar as he looked out the back window. The Baron wondered how he would take the news.

He sipped his weak beer as he watched the Englishman walk into the hotel in the height of Edwardian fashion. The pieces they had gathered burned in his pocket. He couldn't wait until he handed them over.

"Hello, Herr Baron." Tribolyte sank into the chair opposite his contact. "How goes things?"

"We might have some problems." The Baron thought that was an understatement.

"Tell me about them." Mad George seemed at ease. "I could perhaps give you some solutions."

"Algernon Shadow has gotten involved, an expedition arrived at the coordinates in South America before ours, and we lost some men to something with wings." The Baron nodded at the rising eyebrows.

"That is a nasty mess." Mad George brushed his hair back.

"Do you have any solutions?" The Baron smiled slightly.

"Let's see the pieces." Mad George held out his hands. "I'll need a plate also."

The Baron gestured. A man brought a dusty dish and plunked it down on the table between the two men. The expedition commander pulled the bags of stones from the pocket of his jacket. He handed them over.

"Thank you." Tribolyte took each rock out in turn and placed it on the plate. He examined one very closely. "This one is a fake."

"Are you sure?" The Baron grimaced at the look he received. He should have known better to ask. "Let me see the bag."

The Baron checked the handwriting on the bag. He nodded before handing it back.

"That was the one from the group that encountered Doctor Shadow." Tribolyte nodded at his confirmation.

"I expected that." Mad George rearranged the rest of the pieces the soldiers had gathered. "The missing pieces will show once we put in the trigger stone."

"I understand." The Baron sipped his beer. "What will that do for us?"

"It will light the stones for us." Tribolyte smiled. "That will make it easier for your men to find them."

"What about the thing with wings?" The Baron gestured one of his men forward to give instructions to when the experiment was carried out.

"One thing at a time, my good Baron." Mad George smiled. "I will have to consult with some books on how to handle it. I'm pretty sure that it's a ghost."

"A ghost?" The Baron didn't know why he was surprised.

"Sometimes they walk." Mad George nodded as his butler approached with the silver tray. He waved the man to put the tray on the table. "We'll deal with it as soon as we can."

Mr. Cook took the cover off the tray. The puzzle piece glowed against the silver. Tribolyte touched the fragment. The pieces on the plate joined the glowing piece with a snap of reality. A smile crossed George's face.

A shout went up among the men. One of them pointed at a man standing by the door. A piece of light stood out of the man's jacket.

"I think you should freeze." The Baron stood up, pointing at the man. His troopers reached for weapons to stop the man from leaving.

"Meet the illustrious Doc Shadow." Mad George waved a hand nonchalantly.

"Hands up." The Baron frowned at that. "Don't try anything, Doctor."

"I suggest you take his weapon and his piece of the map." Tribolyte smiled quietly.

The Baron looked at his partner. Mad George seemed unaffected by his glacial stare.

"Turn around, Doctor." The Baron gestured for a group of his men to secure their adversary. "Do not try any tricks. We don't want to kill you yet."

The disguised soldiers took Doc Shadow's coat, shoulder holster with pistol inside, and vest full of pockets and metal plates. They put on handcuffs chained to his waist. One man wiped the disguise off his face with a rag.

Mad George took the discovered map piece and fitted it into the rest. He smiled at the directions he could see. Things were going better than he thought they would.

"We're missing two pieces." Mad George ran his finger down the edges.

Doc Shadow said nothing. He usually learned more by simply listening and looking. He surmised much of what was going on just from the display. Now he needed a way out of this mess.

Taking the fragments of the map would be good also.

Doc Shadow thought about how to do those things while checking the manacles. He would have to get out of the chains before he did anything else.

"We'll retrieve them." The Baron looked around for witnesses. The only one present other than his own men, and Tribolyte, was the clerk who looked stricken. "I think we should move our base of operations."

"I agree completely." Mad George indicated for the tray to be covered. "We should go south."

The Baron nodded. He would have to set his men up as a jungle expedition. That meant food, vehicles, and heavy weapons.

"Have you heard this one?" A grinning man in yellow and purple leaped through the door, light blazing around him. "A dog and a duck walk into a bar."

Bullets answered the sally.

"So you have heard that one before." A heavy whack went with the words.

"Kill them!" The Baron fired for where he remembered Doc Shadow had been standing.

[csyphrett]

9

Dr. Haven Walkur listened to the jungle. It told her bad things. She brushed the sweat off her forehead. She looked around, picked a direction, started walking.

Dr. Walkur hated leaving the river. The boat was easy transportation, but it was also easy pickings on the water. Letting it drift downstream seemed to be the easiest way to lose any tracker. She hoped that hadn't been a mistake.

Dr. Walkur had spent time on the run. Being chased by tomb robbers for what she had found was par for the course. This was a little more convoluted than she was used to ducking.

No one had come after the whole expedition before.

She hoped everyone else was okay but she doubted it. Witnesses didn't last long in her experience.

Haven paused when she reached a cliff overlooking a valley of trees. Somewhere beyond that mass was a road leading to the coast. She could send word from a town there if she made it. If the people looking for her found her, she doubted they would even give her a shallow grave.

Haven started down the cliff side, using projecting tree branches for grips. She tried to keep it slow. She didn't want to work into a full speed lurch that would send her into a tree at the bottom of a long fall.

Haven hurried as much as she could. She judged her progress by the setting sun. She had to be in the valley before it went down. Otherwise she would be stuck on the cliff face for the night. She didn't know if she could endure that.

She reached the bottom of the bowl, surrounded by trees. She decided that the best thing she could do was find a place to rest for the night. She didn't want to be on the ground.

Of course trees wouldn't stop jaguars, or pythons. Other predators might be stymied.

Haven found a tree that looked heavy enough for her weight but not much else. She climbed up and used loose foliage to disguise her position. She hoped her pursuers were worse at woodcraft than she was.

The night brought on a starry expanse. Screams echoed as animals did their things. Haven closed her eyes and tried to get some rest. Tomorrow, she would have to get food and drink. That night she would ignore her growling stomach in the hopes it would drive off any predators with its loudness.

She dreamed about civilizations that spanned the stars. They broke down, leaving other civilizations to replace them. Only fragments remained of what they once were.

Haven woke up with a lizard crawling on her face. She grabbed it with one hand while trying not to fall out of her tree. She had breakfast if she could get a fire going. All she would need was something to drink as she marched toward the sea.

Haven wondered how far her trackers were behind her. She couldn't spend too long on staying in one place as long as she had the stone fragment and they wanted it.

Haven took care of her morning duties, burying the waste away from her line of travel. She prepped the poor lizard with a pocket knife and a stick as she walked. She stopped yards away from her night camp. She used some twigs she had gathered on her walk to start a fire. She put the lizard on to cook.

Haven found some fruit she could use for juice. She returned to her firepit. The lizard looked good to her. She made sure the meat was burned before pulling the stick from the fire and dousing the flame with dirt. She walked and munched, judging her position by the sun.

She would have to turn east and head toward the mountains that lined the valley if she wanted to reach the ocean. She had climbed down them yesterday. She didn't foresee any problem climbing up as long as she picked a good spot.

Hopefully the hunters would find her cooking spot and think she was still going south. They wouldn't expect her to turn back east. She hoped they wouldn't expect something like that.

If they did, she was dead.

Haven kept her eye on the rock face moving by. When she saw something that looked like a narrow cut, she headed right for it. She looked at the sun. She might have enough time to get to the top before it went down.

Haven braced her feet and back. She started up the cut. Her eyes focused on the top and not below her. If her grip slipped, bones would break when she slid down to the bottom. The top of the alcove made her pause.

Now came the hard part of switching around and pulling herself out.

Haven turned over. Her gloved hands secured a grip. She used that to pull herself out of the chimney. She rolled clear. The back of her hand wiped her face. She took even breaths until she felt like moving.

Haven smiled as she slowly got to her feet. She took a heading and struck out. She needed to find clean water, but everything else seemed to be going her way. The only thing that could stop her was a party of soldiers coming through the jungle in front of her.

Some cruel fate would have to be in effect for something like that to happen.

Haven looked for more fruits and other small animals she could turn into fuel as she marched along. She noticed some small monkeys. They seemed more interested in each other than harassing her. Her experience told her to stay clear of them.

If you were on the run, you didn't need a troop of monkeys throwing feces at you while you went.

Haven headed through the trees, checking for vines on the ground as she went. The monkeys sat and stared. They didn't seemed interested in chasing after her. She might get to the end of this march in one piece after all.

Haven started whistling as she walked. Everything looked rosy. She could be sipping margaritas in a few months if she stayed out of trouble.

She looked north. How were the others? Were they alive? Were the soldiers chasing her now?

Haven turned to face the coast in the distance. She would reach it. She would find help. No one was going to stop her.

[csyphrett]

10

Tim Daschle regretted going along for the ride. He regretted he hadn't called Ghost Angel. And he regretted that he might be dead in the next few minutes.

Tim had noticed the way the guys at the warehouse had scattered. Ghost Angel exploding heads did that. He trailed behind the biggest group of them. When they got on a boat, he did too. He hid below decks in a rope locker.

Getting caught seemed like asking for a bullet to him.

He should have called Ghost Angel then, but held off. Open water scared his buddy for some reason. There was no point calling him. He would be too scared to do anything. Tim decided to ride along until they reached their destination.

When they reached Mexico, Tim still held off. More of the soldiers had joined the group he was tagging behind. They seemed to be headed to meet a brain. He decided to join them.

He could turn G.A. loose on the whole bunch at once.

Then the hotel exploded in front of him. That changed his mind and brought on the regrets. He held his hat to his head as smoke poured out the front of the place.

"G.A. is going to kill me." Tim moved away from the hotel. He didn't want to get caught in a crossfire.

"What are you doing here, kid?" A voice drifted out of the air.

"Who's there?" Tim looked around. He didn't see anyone standing there.

"I'm the Pattern Ghost." Unseen hands pulled Tim behind boxes as bullets buzzed through the air. "I just saved your life. I think you need to answer my question now."

"Tim." Tim ducked down. Splintering wood flew by his head. "What stirred them up?"

"The Comic." Pattern Ghost pulled Tim behind clay columns. "I heard about him. I didn't think he was that crazy."

"I'm calling for help." Tim winced as more bullets flew by. "We need to stop that before someone gets hurt."

"Here comes the Comic." Pattern Ghost fired his ray gun into the hotel. "Looks like he has company."

Tim blinked at the flickering man in a diver's suit that appeared beside him. He thought Pattern Ghost was a real ghost. He should have known better.

"Ghost Angel, hear my call. I summon you to cast your vengeful eye on those who want judgment." Tim waved at the two men running from the hotel.

"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble, Tim." Ghost Angel's bitter voice appeared before he did, straightening his sunglasses, then tie.

"Where did you come from?" Pattern Ghost appeared again as he provided cover for the other two men seeking protection.

"From the darkest part of Hell." Ghost Angel glanced at the invisible man. "This is a long way from home for you, Tim."

"Don't tell my mother." Tim straightened his own sunglasses and tie.

"She's getting told." Ghost Angel stepped out in the street. People who saw him in his black suit and hat ran. He pushed the Comic and Doc Shadow into the cantina with his ward. He started toward the hotel.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble." Tim put his head in his hands. "The fink is going to tell on me."

"You have to get home alive first." Pattern Ghost stepped out of the new arrivals' way. "Nice to finally meet the Comic in the flesh."

"I wish I could say the same." The Comic took cover behind a flipped over table. "Does anyone have a clue what's going on?"

"Yes." Doc Shadow pulled on his vest and shoulder holster. He checked the pistol with quick motions.

"Care to explain it to the rest of us?" The Comic searched his belt for a slingshot and some offensive weapon that might help them in case the man in black got killed walking across the street.

"No." Doc Shadow took aim at the front of the hotel. He waited for a suitable target to show in front of the sights.

The man in black flicked his hand. A sword of flame appeared. He reached the hotel's entrance. Something held him back. He pressed on it with his empty hand. Then he took off his sunglasses.

"Don't look him in the eye when he's not wearing his glasses." Tim listened to screams. He counted less than he thought there should be.

"Something is keeping him out of the lobby of the hotel." Doc Shadow looked around. "The man who wants the pieces must have something he can use as a deterrent."

"So we go in and stop them." The Comic appeared from behind his table with a loaded and ready slingshot.

"They are missing two of the pieces." Shadow listened. "We just have to get them first."

"I got one." The Comic laughed. "Wait. That means they'll be coming after me."

"We need to find the other one and get that while keeping the one you have out of their reach." Shadow looked outside on the street. "They planned to go south from here after the other piece."

"Call off your attack dog, Tim." Pattern Ghost's voice drifted out of nowhere. "We should get out of here."

A dinosaur rushed out of the hotel. Huge jaws clamped down on Ghost Angel's middle and bit him in half. He fell to the ground. His sword flickered out of existence.

"I didn't expect that." The Comic fired his slingshot at the dinosaur. An explosion rocked its head for a second.

"What did they do to G.A.?" Tim started sobbing.

"It's a diversion." Doc Shadow grabbed Tim and ran to the back of the cantina. "They're trying to pin us down while they get away."

"That's a big diversion." The Comic jumped after the bigger man. He wondered how the man could be that fast carrying dead weight under one arm.

Pattern Ghost fired his electro pistol as he moved after the other two adventurers. He flickered in and out as he changed position with every shot. He gave up when the dinosaur collided with the front of the building.

Grenades went off on top of the dinosaur. It whined as it collapsed to the floor, holes blown in it. A shadow moved from the cantina's roof to the next building in line as the others ran down the alley. Doc Shadow aimed for the end, seeing a way to catch up that no one else did.

"Ghost Angel, hear my call. I summon you to cast your vengeful eye on those who want judgment." Tim sobbed as he flew among the close set buildings.

[csyphrett]

11

"Can you put a sock in it, kid?" The Comic lurked against bright wall. "I'm trying to sneak around here."

"I can't help it." Tim rubbed his eyes. "G.A.'s never not shown up before."

"He just got bitten in half by a big lizard." The Comic waved his hands. "He's probably dead."

"He's a ghost." Tim stared at the grinning mask. "He can't be dead."

"He sure ain't alive." The Comic held up a hand. "Now keep quiet. We're sneaking around here."

"You're mean." Tim tried to decide whether he should kick the Comic, or not.

"What's your point?" The Comic looked around. "We're supposed to be waiting for Doc Shadow to come back. Let's wait quietly."

"I'm back." Doc Shadow appeared like a shadow in front of the two squabblers.

"What's the plan?" The Comic hid his startlement. He hated the silent approach.

"Pattern Ghost is on one of the planes." Doc Shadow checked his watch. "I have a plane waiting for us."

"What about G.A.?" Tim looked up at the famous scientist. "We can't leave without him."

"I haven't treated a spirit." Doc Shadow put on his professional face. "I don't know. He'll either recover on his own, or he's gone for good. Time will tell. We can't wait for either conclusion. We have to stop the Germans from gaining the pieces they want."

"All right." Tim wiped his face again. "What do we have to do?"

"We're going to let Pattern Ghost find out where they are going." Doc Shadow nodded. "Then we're going to get the pieces from them, find out what they unlock, and save the day."

"Sounds good to me." The Comic nodded. "You said you rented a plane for us."

"Bought one." Doc Shadow turned. "Let's go. I hid it while Pattern Ghost boarded their plane. It should get us where they are going with minimum refueling."

"Where do you think they're going?" The Comic figured he had missed talk of travel plans when he had broken into the meeting.

"To Brazil." Doc Shadow moved like a ghost. "I expect some kind of jungle settlement somewhere. Maybe a ruins."

"How do we land in a jungle?" Tim followed the other two.

"I'll think of something." Doc Shadow kept his thoughts to himself about what that might be.

The Comic and Tim looked at each other. Doubt flashed between the two of them. Maybe they should take another plane instead of flying with a crazy man.

They decided to stick with the fast moving Shadow. He seemed to at least have a handle on the situation.

"What do you think these pieces do?" The Comic turned his attention to the one piece of the puzzle he could get a grip on.

"They're a map." Doc Shadow paused long enough to lift Tim on the back of a passing truck. He jumped on the bumper beside the boy.

The Comic jogged after the truck. He jumped and grabbed the grip on the back of the door. He settled lightly on the other side of Tim.

"So we have a centerpiece of a map the Germans are willing to kill for, another piece is running loose somewhere we don't know, and a dinosaur might show up any time to eat us like it did the boy's pet ghost." The Comic looked at the other two. Doc Shadow's face barely moved. Tim snuffled. "Did I miss anything?"

"Yes." Doc Shadow glanced around the side of the truck.

"What?" The Comic looked around his side. Everything looked clear.

"We have someone helping us. We have a vague idea of what's going on and how to stop it. We know what the enemy looks like so we can keep an eye on them from a distance. And Pattern Ghost can influence their plan if he remains undiscovered." Doc Shadow prepared to jump from the truck. He had seen a cab that might be paid to go his way.

"Someone's helping us?" Tim looked around. "Where is he?"

Doc Shadow picked Tim up and jumped from the bumper. He headed for the cab. The Comic followed, not as surprised as he had been when Shadow had boarded the truck. Maybe he was catching up.

Shadow stopped the cab. He tossed Tim in the back. He urged the driver over with a bill and a hand more like stone than flesh and blood. Comic jumped in the back.

"All aboard, Captain." The Comic made sure the slingshot was ready in case he needed it.

Doc pulled into traffic. He headed for the airport at a sedate pace. He already had a map of Mexico City in his head. The airport was a dot on that memory.

"I didn't see anyone helping us back at the hotel." The Comic turned back to assistance.

"What do you think happened to the dinosaur?" Doc kept an eye on his mirrors.

"I didn't think of that." The Comic leaned back in the chair. He remembered seeing someone move on the roof while breaking off from the attack.

"Keep an eye out." Doc turned into the road heading for the airport. "They might have left someone behind for us."

The driver rattled off several helpful points about the airport, pointing toward the main terminal. Doc told him they were going right to the tarmac and he should keep his head down to avoid bullets. Tim and the Comic looked at each other, unfamiliar with the language.

Several flying boats took off from the airport as they drove toward the hangar at the end of the runways. Tim watched them from the back seat. That's why he was taken by surprise when he was pushed down to the floorboards.

"Guns." The Comic pulled one of his packets from his belt.

"I see them." Doc pulled his pistol. "Mira, Senor."

The driver dropped below the dashboard as men rushed the cab with weapons drawn.

[csyphrett]

12


Doc Shadow fired his pistol through the open window of the cab as he turned to keep the engine between him and their long guns. Black clouds erupted as he emptied the magazine of his automatic. He threw open the door as he reloaded.

Doc hoped none of them was smart enough to hold their breaths. The gas in the smoke cloud would fade in a minute.

"I think we should go." Doc handed the driver another bill. "Our plane is over behind that building."

"Right behind you, Chief." Comic pulled Tim out of the cab. "You're fast as lightning."

"Faster than that." Tim looked around, straightening his sunglasses and hat. "I didn't see you move. Mostly because someone pushed my face in the dirty floorboard."

"My pleasure." The Comic pointed the slingshot ahead of him as he moved toward the hangar.

"Tim." A vapor wrapped around the boy as he ran to keep up with the other two. "What's going on?"

"Are you okay, G.A.?" Tim stopped. The vapor became an image that almost looked like Ghost Angel.

"Hurt a little." Ghost Angel looked down at his bloody shirt. "Never been hurt before."

"You look like horse puckey." The Comic pulled at Tim. "Can you keep up with us?"

"I don't think I like you." G.A. reached for his sunglasses.

"We have to go if we want to be able to help Pattern Ghost." Doc Shadow's voice cut off any more discussion. "Let's go."

"We have a ride, G.A." Tim started for the plane. "I'll tell you everything that's happened since you got bitten."

"I don't feel well, Tim." G.A. floated behind his sidekick.

"You got bit in half by a dinosaur." The Comic trailed behind the strange pair. "You shouldn't even be here."

"I remember that." Ghost Angel frowned. "The butler did it."

"What?" The Comic paused in his run. "What butler?"

"One of the men present had a butler." Doc Shadow opened the door of the amphibious plane he had secured. "He seemed to be the moving force behind things."

"The butler cut his hand. The blood became the dinosaur." Ghost Angel paused. "I'm sure that's what I saw."

"So when we see them, we drop the butler first." The Comic thought for a moment. "His boss is the guy with the Fairbanks hair."

"Yes." Doc Shadow got behind the wheel.

"He didn't look too concerned when I blew up the lobby with the flash stick." The Comic nodded. "He was sitting at the table."

"Yes." Doc Shadow started the engine. "He seems to be the mastermind."

"You know he's got juice." The Comic settled in the copilot seat. "His butler makes giant lizards out of blood."

"We'll have to be careful." Doc Shadow pushed the throttle forward. The plane headed on the runway. He taxied on the tarmac, listening to the tower on the radio headset.

"I like the way you think." The Comic checked his belt.

"I want to talk to him myself." Ghost Angel settled as much as he could in the engineer chair.

"We just have to hope he doesn't realize that Pattern Ghost is on board." Doc lifted off with a brief discussion with the tower. "That could be bad for our colleague if he's found."

"A bullet to the head is bad for anybody." The Comic checked his equipment as he relaxed in his chair. He had learned how to fly as a barnstormer before setting up his shop.

"Are we going to get into a dogfight?" Tim stared out the side window on his side of the plane.

"No." Doc Shadow lifted to the highest altitude of the flying boat's operational ceiling. "We're going to follow them until they set down, then try to find the other piece before they do."

"My mom will be worried sick." Tim hopped in place in his chair. "I wonder what I should tell her."

"I'll talk to her." Ghost Angel looked at his shirt. It remained red and sticky to whatever he called flesh.

"No." Tim shook his head. "You make things worse."

"I'll talk to her for you, kid." The Comic laughed.

"I don't think so." Tim raised his eyebrows at the man in purple and yellow. "If G.A. makes things worse, I hate to see what you would do."

"You fellows might want to get some sleep." Doc Shadow held the wheel steady as wind buffeted the plane. "We might have a long trip ahead of us."

"Sure." The Comic squirmed in his seat. "Wake me up when we get there."

"I'll go home temporarily." Ghost Angel started to fade away. "Call me when you land."

"He looked much better." Tim leaned against the wall of the plane on his side. "I thought he was gone for good."

Doc said nothing. Having Ghost Angel back in play could be useful as long as he was a secret weapon. They didn't want to expose Ghost Angel to whatever power the Englishman possessed before they were ready to use him.

"How long do you think he needs?" Tim sounded nervous. "We might need to call him before he's ready."

"I think you need to get some sleep so you can be fresh." Doc kept his voice steady. "We have a long way to go before we have to confront our enemies."

"I understand." Tim settled in his chair and watched the sky go by his window. "You don't want to talk."

"Exactly." Doc nodded. He kept an ear on the radio chatter as he piloted above the clouds. Soon they would have to drop altitude to get a look at the direction the other planes had flown. He didn't want the butler to know they were hanging back behind the other planes.

If the butler could make a dinosaur, what else could he do?

A creature capable of flight would be able to ambush their plane, and for the most part they would be helpless. One bad strike on a wing would send them to the ground in a fiery crash.

Ghost Angel would never get his call back if that happened.

Doc Shadow dipped below the clouds. He pulled out a set of binoculars. He put them to his eyes. The last plane that took off soared ahead of them.

Everything seemed to be going their way for once.

[csyphrett]

13
Dr. Haven Walkur felt her bag shake at her hip. She stared down at it. This was the second time it had done that in the last few hours. Something was causing the stone triangle to shake.

She had the feeling that couldn't be good.

She heard engines in the air. She looked up, using her hand as a shade. She picked out two planes high above the trees. She decided to get under cover.

Planes and the shaking had to be linked somehow. She didn't understand it. Her gut told her that, and she trusted her gut. It had gotten her out of too many scrapes to start distrusting it.

Haven wondered why the extreme effort for a piece that would have been in a museum back in the States.

Haven decided to keep under cover as much as possible. This could be another branch of the intruders in her camp that had started this walking trip in the first place.

She had no illusions about outrunning a bullet. She had to stay out of sight, get the stone in someone else's hands, and let the world know what happened to her expedition. She didn't want the world thinking everyone just died in the jungle chasing some kind of dream.

That would be too much to stand.

The truth had to come out. Someone had to pay for what was going on. Haven didn't care if it was one man, or a nation.

Haven moved from tree to tree. She avoided any spot where the sky was clear through the foliage. She ignored the shaking in her carrier bag. She tried to keep going in a direction where the shaking faltered instead of getting stronger.

Haven noted the shaking was particularly bad when one of the planes crossed the sky close to high noon to her position.

That confirmed the gut feeling.

The planes were trying to track down the stone piece somehow.

Haven paused, wondering what she could do to get out of this mess. She had to keep moving. What could she do to get clear?

Experience told her to keep going south until she hit a river. She could use that to move south. Maybe she could find a town with an airfield so she could fly to civilization. That might be the best move.

She wondered when they would land and start searching the jungle for her. That would be her next move.

Haven paused to check the overflying plane. She groaned. The plane had pontoons hanging down from the wings. They could land on the water as well as the land. That was more bad news.

Haven couldn't use the river for her escape if they could land on the water and chase her down.

Haven thought about the fix she was in from every angle she could think of as she watched the plane cruise by. She had to keep moving, but she also had to wait the planes out. Sooner or later, they would have to refuel. Then she could move more freely.

The only flaw she could see in that is if they dropped ground troops to search for her.

They had numbers, time, supplies, and speed. She had a familiarity with the jungle and the native animals.

Haven decided to walk west for a few miles and then turn southeast again. That seemed to be the best plan. She had to move on. The worse part was they could harry her until she dropped from exhaustion. She needed to conserve her strength until she had some way to get clear of the net.

Then she needed to get through that hole in the net and go full blast.

Haven checked her compass and set off. She would eat and try to find something to drink on the way to where she could change course back towards the beaches.

Her bag shook as she trotted through the trees. They were still calling the fragment somehow. How could she stop that from happening?

Haven paused under the cover of a bush. She took the stone triangle out to try and read the runes. Maybe that would give her some kind of clue. She heard the plane coming. Light exploded from the piece of artifact.

Haven stuffed the thing back in the bag. She looked up. They knew where she was. Lucky thing they couldn't hover like an autogyro. Otherwise, they would drop down on top of her like that.

Haven ran with careful steps. It was too easy to turn an ankle in the undergrowth. She didn't want that on top of everything else.

The plane circled overhead, trying to pinpoint her in the trees. Bullets cut loose as men pointed weapons from an open hatch. The projectiles ripped leaves and wood as they ran to one side of the running archaeologist.

Haven wished she had a gun to shoot back with. She had a fair hand with a hunting rifle. Her father had taught her that much.

Haven spotted a man pushing the others out of the way. His bald head shone a little. Lines ran from his hand. A bird formed up and swooped down from the floating sections of slashes.

Haven abandoned her cover as the bird descended toward her. The good doctor ran, jumping over roots, swinging limbs out of the way. She had to get away from that bird. It was telling the soldiers where she was headed.

What had she stumbled across?

[csyphrett]

14
Doc Shadow nudged the Comic awake. He had circled above the search pattern below him. The shaking from the Comic's bag had prompted him to lock the stone fragment they still possessed in a locker below his seat.

"It looks like they found something." Doc Shadow dropped their plane down, unsure what they should do at the moment.

"If you get close enough, I can try to gum up the engines." The Comic searched in his gimmicks for the one thing they could use.

"I'll call Ghost Angel." Tim bounced in his seat, happy to get back in action. Then he straightened his tie and sunglasses. "He'll fix those planes."

"Do it." Doc Shadow wasn't used to having so many allies, but they were what he needed for the job. "Tell him to be careful about Pattern Ghost."

"I forgot he was over there." Tim spoke his chant. When he was done, the thing in black adjusted his hat.

"We need you to stop those planes, G.A." Tim pointed at the two planes as they searched the jungle below. "Pattern Ghost is on the one to the left so he needs to be rescued."

"I got it, Tim." Ghost Angel spread his wings. "It'll be a pleasure to get something back for what happened back in town."

"We need to stop them, find what they are looking for, and get away." Doc Shadow didn't know how the Comic felt having this thing in the cockpit. He wasn't too happy about it. "Can you help us with that?"

"Don't doubt me, mortal." Ghost Angel stared at the man of adventure. "Being caught by surprise once doesn't make those others my equal."

"I'll bring us in to drop you off." Doc Shadow showed the spirit of vengeance a bland face. "Then we'll back off to avoid being shot at by the soldiers."

"Understood." G.A. flicked his sword into existence.

Doc Shadow rolled his window back. The Comic did the same on his side. The man of adventure held his pistol in his left hand so he could shoot explosive rounds into the wings of the plane if he had to do that.

Soldiers fired down in the jungle with submachine guns. A bald man extended his hand. A bird came to life and headed down.

"I think we need to stop them, smiley." The Comic turned his masked face to the ghost.

Ghost Angel sank through the floor of the plane. He dropped to the other plane below, standing on the back of the thing. The wind whipped his tie around him as he raised his sword. He brought the blade down. It cut into the metal skin.

The plane came apart where the sword stuck. The metal sections separated with the popping of rivets. The plates fell off to the side as the bird roared forward. The men looked up at Ghost Angel in fear for the most part.

The two that didn't were the bald butler, and the long haired man in the fancy clothes. They were trouble.

Ghost Angel hoped Pattern Ghost couldn't see his face as he pulled off his sunglasses. The ordinary soldiers started suffering from an exploding head problem. The two standouts covered their eyes to prevent the mists from his eyes from entering theirs.

Those two were the ones he needed to deal with since the mooks couldn't stop him. He didn't need another experience where he was ripped in half.

"Do something, Tribolyte." One of the men had retreated up front to where the pilots sat.

Tribolyte, Ghost Angel supposed the one man raising his hand was the mentioned, pointed at the spirit in black with his other arm over his face. Ghost Angel dropped down in the passenger compartment. An invisible beam passed through where he had been.

The other man raised his own hand. Lines rolled out. Teeth hooked to a long neck and wings started emerging from the crosshatching on the air.

Ghost Angel stabbed the floor of the airplane with his sword. He didn't know if he could take the both of them. He felt he had a better chance if they had to worry about flying.

The line of choppers descended on the spirit avenger. He raised his sword. The living drawing went for him. The winged wonder parried the first bite as he backed away from the drawing.

The bottom of the plane fell away from the walls. Bolts fell with the sheets of steel toward the trees below. The men who survived the burning eyes fell with the floor.

The drawing dipped below the bald man and the dandy. Another man grabbed a leg. The pseudodragon flapped its wings to gain altitude.

Ghost Angel flapped his own wings. A beam of psychic force reached for him. The spirit spiraled out of the way as he climbed after the riding trio. The dandy kept his arm over his face to protect from the exploding head gaze.

Ghost Angel swung his sword at the dragon. The blade should break the lines apart. He just needed a solid cut.

The two supernatural forces chased each other across the jungle sky. Neither side gained an advantage as they circled for a death blow. The other plane circled around to take advantage and shoot at the ghost.

Ghost Angel turned and took his sunglasses off. The pilot of the other plane screamed at what he saw. The second plane headed for the jungle as the pilot died at the wheel. The spirit put his mask back in place.

"He's killed our soldiers." The third man pulled his pistol. Ghost Angel wondered what he thought he was going to do with that.

"He's going to kill us unless we stop him." The dandy seemed a little more concerned than he had when Ghost Angel had split the roof of the plane apart.

[csyphrett]

15


Doc Shadow banked the plane away from the combat. The Ghost Angel seemed to be handling his own. The man of adventure wanted to pick up the other piece of rock and leave before the enemy got themselves back together.

"Is that a dragon?" Tim peered over his shoulder. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I." The Comic leaned forward. "I hope that wasn't the plane Pattern Ghost was on."

"Ghost Angel either forgot, or didn't care." Doc Shadow spotted a clearing in the distance. "We'll have to land and find the other piece."

"We'll be pinned down on the ground if those rats break free from Ghost Angel." The Comic stared at the pyrotechnics behind them. "They're really going at it."

"The other option is to place you on the ground, then take off again." Doc Shadow brought the plane around. "You'll be on your own until I can pick you back up."

"That seems a lot better than walking out of this mess." The Comic checked his equipment. "Let's do it."

"I'll go with you." Tim gulped behind his sunglasses and hat. "I can call G.A. to help us if we need him."

"I don't think so, kid." The Comic turned his grinning mask on the boy. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"It's too late for that." Tim straightened his jacket and tie. "Let's go."

"Wait until we land." Doc Shadow pointed the plane down. "It'll be a rolling stop so you will have to be fast."

"I'm always fast, Doc." The Comic let his hand drop to the restraint release. As soon as the plane touched the ground, he planned to be out the door.

The plane dropped smooth as cream, dipped enough to let the wheels barely touch the ground. The door swung open as it rolled along toward the other end of the clearing. A yellow and purple figure dropped from the fuselage with a burden over his shoulder. The plane lifted up and started climbing for the sky. It just missed the trees at the other end of the makeshift runway as it headed back to the battle in the sky.

"Let's go, kid." The Comic dusted his costume off and started for the trees. "We're burning daylight."

"I can't believe we just jumped from a plane." Tim dusted his own jacket off as he followed his brightly colored comrade.

"I can't either, especially if something happens to it, we'll have to walk home." The Comic vanished into the trees.

"What do you mean we?" Tim smiled for the first time. "I have a ride."

The Comic set off on a line to where the plane had been circling from the air. He kept his eyes open for anyone else who might be down on the ground with him. He didn't want to run into a cartoon while trying to find a piece of rock that could be anywhere in the jungle around him.

He expected more trouble. That came with the job.

"Where do you think it is?" Tim moved less quietly behind the crimebuster. He snagged his jacket on the foliage as he went.

"Quiet." The Comic put a hand up. "We don't want to be shot at while we're looking around."

"I got it." Tim looked around. "Do you think anybody else is down here with us?"

"Do you really want to find out?" The Comic started off again.

The Comic led the way, moving from tree to tree like a bright shadow. He spotted movement in the distance. Someone tried to keep behind trees ahead.

He gestured for Tim to wait as he circled around the position where he had spotted the skulker. He wanted to get ahead of him. That way he could use surprise on his side.

The Comic crept around until he was in front of the shadow. He waited patiently in some bushes. He watched the woman walk toward his position. She seemed to be looking around for trouble. He waited as she came within arm's reach without seeing him.

"How's it going?" The Comic stepped into view. "What's a dame like you doing in a place like this?"

The woman jumped back, swinging a fist for his mask's smile. He ducked, letting the blow swing over his head.

"That's really no answer." The Comic caught the next blow. He turned that into a shoulder carry. Fists beat on his back. "Do you mind? I'm trying to be heroic here."

"Who are you?" The woman stopped beating on him. "Why are you chasing me through the jungle?"

"I'm the Comic." The masked vigilante retraced his footsteps. "I'm here to rescue you."

"Let's say I believe you." The woman struggled off his shoulder. "How did you find out I was in trouble?"

"We're following the Germans." The Comic led the way. "Come on. I left someone over here to wait for us."

"Who's the dame?" Tim called from his hiding place.

"I'm Dr. Walkur, young man." The dame brought herself up straight. "I didn't expect a child."

"Neither did I." The Comic shrugged. "You get what you pay for."

"I don't work for you." Tim glared at the yellow and purple goon.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." The Comic led the way back toward the clearing. "Let's see if the Doc can pick us up as easily as he dropped us off."

"The Doc?" Dr. Walkur frowned at her new comrades.

"Doc Shadow is flying for us." Tim pointed at one of the planes.

"Doc Shadow? Not the Doc Shadow." Dr. Walkur looked impressed for the first time since she met the two of them. "I have read all his articles on lost civilizations and digs he undertook."

"We're more concerned with his flying ability." The Comic reached the edge of the clearing where the plane landed.

"Where's G.A?" Tim looked up in the sky.

"He's up there still fighting the two on the dragon." The Comic pointed at the spiraling combat. "We need to get out of here before something happens."

"I think it's too late." Dr. Walkur pointed at the plane not marked as Doc Shadow's plane. It swung around toward the clearing like it was landing.

"No way will they make it." Tim backed away from the open ground.

"Let's not take that chance." The Comic backed up himself, pulling Dr. Walkur with him. "We don't want to get shot by lucky gamblers."

"I second that motion." Dr. Walkur started jogging to ground cover. She really wanted a gun.

"Tim, you and the doc head that way." The Comic looked around for a place to hide. "I'll hold them off."

Tim grabbed Dr. Walkur's hand and headed into the trees with her. He kept glancing at where they expected the plane to land. He hoped the pilot wasn't as skilled as Doc Shadow.

The second plane descended toward the clearing. The three comrades in arms had their eyes on the steel bird. That was how the living drawing snuck up on them.

The moving lines grabbed Dr. Walkur's bag in angular claws. It ripped the sack off her shoulder and headed into the air. It ignored the shouts behind it.

It had what was the most important thing in its grip.

"That can't be good." Dr. Walkur made sure the bag was the only thing hurt. "What do we do now?"

"We wait for pick up and hope Shadow can do something." The Comic looked around. "And we keep our eyes open for anything else like that."

"Do you think it'll come back?" Tim picked up a stick to use as a club.

"Yes." The Comic held his hammer in his hand. "We just have to be ready to move when it does."

He didn't tell them about the piece of rock he still carried in his equipment bag. That prevented anyone from overhearing their talking about it.

The bird joined the fight in the air, dropping the piece of the map in the Fancy Dan's hands while the dragon tried to keep Ghost Angel at bay. They redoubled their efforts to drive Ghost Angel off. They couldn't have him wreck their other transport.

[csyphrett]

16

Pattern Ghost stood up. The static from his suit surrounded him. The soldiers that shared the plane with him clustered around the windows to watch what was going on outside.

He didn't care about that. He cared about getting off the plane before something bad happened to it. He couldn't expect for the others to rescue him. He had to get free on his own.

Pattern Ghost pulled his electric pistol. He needed to force the plane down to a landing. Then he could get away from it. That seemed to be the best option. Anything else seemed to end with a fiery crash in his mind.

Pattern Ghost made his way to the cockpit. He avoided any stray limbs out in the aisle as he paused at the door. They couldn't see him. They could see the door open and closing on its own.

He would have to chance it.

Pattern Ghost pushed the door open and stepped inside the cockpit. The copilot glanced back at him. The invisible avenger wiped the frown off his face with the butt of his pistol. The copilot rocked back in his chair, stunned by the blow.

"Land, please." The pilot stared at his partner, then around the compartment. The voice had come out of nowhere.

Pattern Ghost didn't like the way the pilot froze at the controls. He seemed incapable of moving from fear. The vigilante brought his pistol down and pulled the man out of the way. He needed to crash the plane and hope to survive.

That didn't seem too smart.

Pattern Ghost pushed the wheel forward. The nose dropped down. Trees filled the view ahead. The invisible man ran from the cockpit. He needed to get to the hatch if he wanted to be able to get out of the plane after it hit.

He knocked a man aside and strapped in the seat beside the hatch. The plane hit and bounced before it started to break up. He needed to be able to leap clear as soon as possible. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

The plane paused in its bouncing. The passengers had not been strapped in when it struck the trees and lost its wings. Pattern Ghost leaped from his chair, and threw open the exit. He didn't know how long he had before the aircraft decided to blow up.

Pattern Ghost leaped from the plane, climbing down the nearest tree. He noted that most of the animals in sight fled with hoots and screams. He dropped down to the ground. No one followed him yet.

He hoped that would remain the same for a while. He didn't want to take on a group of people with enough firepower to shred the jungle. He couldn't dodge bullets.

Pattern Ghost decided that he needed to signal to the others he was still alive. He pointed his pistol in the air and fired. The beam lit the sky like reverse lightning. That should pinpoint him to Doc Shadow.

Pattern Ghost headed away from the crash site. He didn't want to be caught by survivors. They would be irate that he blew their ride home.

He decided to work around the clearing he stumbled on. Maybe he could find the others lurking on the ground. Hopefully Doc Shadow would land to pick them up.

Pattern Ghost looked up at the sky. He looked away. Ghost Angel and his two enemies were throwing energy around that ate at his eyes. He had to avoid looking at the battle if he wanted to keep moving.

Ghost Angel seemed to be holding his own against the two fiends. That was good. He doubted his own invisibility would be much of a defense against whatever they were using.

Pattern Ghost spotted the yellow and purple regalia of the Comic. That's where he needed to be. He jogged over to join them.

"What happened to that plane?" Tim looked at the wreck.

"I did." Pattern Ghost smiled at their jumping. He always liked that. "I don't know if the soldiers on board will like it, so let's get moving."

"This is the only area for miles around that Doc can land in." The Comic homed in on the buzzing voice Pattern Ghost emitted when powered up. "Plus they have the doc's piece of the rock. We have to get it back."

"How do we do that?" Pattern Ghost kept an eye on the site of the wrecked plane. "Let's get back in the air and see if we can help Ghost Angel."

"I'm for that." Tim jumped up and down. "We're missing all the action."

"So we signal Doc and get out of here." Pattern Ghost nodded before stopping himself. They couldn't see the motion of his head.

Doc's plane dropped out of the sky. It rolled to a stop and turned around. The small group headed on the grassy runway. They looked out for anyone who might try and stop them before they could get airborne from the extraction site.

The Comic helped the woman they had picked up into the fuselage. He threw Tim up like a sack of potatoes. He jumped up and pulled himself in easily.

Pattern Ghost envied that amount of agility.

He struggled through the hatch, getting to his feet while the rest headed for the front of the plane. Invisible hands slammed the hatch shut as the plane started rolling across the plain.

Pattern Ghost settled into a seat and strapped in. He listened. All he heard was the sound of engines. That was good.

Pattern Ghost listened to the others talking. He hadn't expected to walk away from the crash. Adrenaline made his body shake. He waited for it to pass.

"We need to get the stones from Ghost Angel's opponents." Doc Shadow sounded confident in their ability to do that. "I think I have a plan."

"If it involves the doc doing the dance of the seven veils, I'm for it." The Comic then made a sound that indicated someone had kicked him. "I'm good otherwise also."

"What's the dance of the seven veils?" Tim's voice carried a trace of irritation. Ghost Angel was his mentor. Helping the spirit of vengeance had to be uppermost in his mind.

"I think you're a little too young for that." The woman sounded irritated herself. "I'm Dr. Haven Walkur. It's an honor to meet you, Dr. Shadow. Your reputation is impeccable."

"Thank you." Doc didn't give any indication that he had heard of any Dr. Walkur. "We still need to recover as many of the rocks as we can."

"We'll have to take them away from fancy boy, and his minion." The Comic sighed. "You got a plan?"

"A bare bones one." Doc Shadow didn't sound as if his plan was bare bones to Pattern Ghost. "We have to draw their fire long enough for one of us to grab the stones while the others try to cover that one. I would like Ghost Angel for this but I'm not sure how he will react when we attack. We certainly can't tell him."

"He's smart. He'll figure it out once we get started." Tim clapped his hands. "He's quick on his feet like that."

"All right." Doc Shadow urged the plane around. "Pattern Ghost, we'll need you to get their attention."

"Naturally." Pattern Ghost unstrapped and moved to the cockpit. He caught the tail end of Doc gesturing the Comic to get out of the way.

"We're going to start our attack run." Doc lined up so Pattern Ghost can shoot out of his window. "Get ready in the back, Comic. We'll use your gas bombs on the second run."

The yellow and purple clown rushed to the exit, throwing the hatch open for quick access. His red gas ball leaped into his hand as he waited for his chance.

"Strap in." Doc Shadow's handling of the plane was as smooth as ever. "This could get a bit bumpy."

Pattern Ghost took careful aim with his electric pistol, extending his arm out of the window. He didn't know what the thing would do to Ghost Angel. He also couldn't afford to miss. His two opponents could wreck the plane with a glance. He pulled the trigger.

Lightning shot out in a pulsing streak. The beam struck the bird in the face. It popped like a bubble at the mercy of a happy kid.

"Missed." Pattern Ghost pulled the trigger again in the hope of hitting at least one of the two principles.

Lightning sliced the sky again. It reached for the butler. It missed on a curve and blasted the dragon instead. The drawing burned away in an instant.

"That's not good." Dr. Walkur frowned at the invisible man.

The plane passed before Pattern Ghost could get another shot.

[csyphrett]

17

Mad George Tribolyte needed to take immediate action. He rarely felt at a loss, but this was one of those times. After all, he couldn't fly like many of his rivals in the mystic underground.

And he had lost his footing when Mr. Cook's dragon had burst from under them.

Tribolyte clutched the bag of map fragments close as he leveled his finger. He had to trust his servant to solve the problem. He needed to keep that spirit away from them long enough for that to happen.

He poured energy into the air, pointing it at the thing in black. It struck the glowing hell sword and sliced apart. He surmised the beam transferred the beam into the afterlife somewhere. He didn't care enough to personally examine the arrival site over there.

Tribolyte's feet touched something solid. He bent his knees at the impact. He kept himself from falling and rolling. That might be disastrous. He paused to look around so he had a clear view of what he should avoid wrecking.

Mr. Cook had produced a balloon tied to a basket. Lines forged themselves from his palm as he worked in more details. The airship climbed as more round shapes drifted upward with anchor ropes attached to the basket.

"Good work, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte smiled. "All we need is the last piece. I have a feeling it's not far away."

"A little help here." The Baron clutched the side of the basket. He had snagged the construct after their freefall. Tribolyte helped him aboard as he watched the winged suit descend toward them.

"The plane is coming back around." Mr. Cook didn't sound excited. He almost never did. "I don't see what they used on my drawings."

"Blow up the plane while I keep this other thing busy." Tribolyte made sure none of his blasts would hit the balloon by accident. "We have to even the odds some."

"Yes, sir." Mr. Cook drew a rocket and launched it with a toss of his hand. Flame erupted from its tail as it chased after the flying boat.

Tribolyte fired blast after blast at the descending Ghost Angel. Each one vanished as the man in black swept his sword through it. At least he couldn't lift his sunglasses while he was busy protecting himself.

He needed something to get this spook out of the way until they could make their escape.

A loud explosion rocked the balloon. Everyone glanced at the source. Mr. Cook's rocket had caught up with the plane. Part of a wing was gone. No matter how skilled the pilot was, he couldn't keep from crashing after something like that.

"Good job again, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte fired at Ghost Angel as he changed direction to catch up with the spinning plane. The beams missed.

Tribolyte took out the tray of map pieces. He fitted the one taken by the bird cartoon into place. He was missing one shaped like a fish. He activated them.

Light formed a picture of the world. The missing piece was on the bottom of the globe floating in the air. That was where the treasure had to be.

He needed the last piece to pinpoint exactly where it was buried. At least he knew it was somewhere in Antarctica.

A buzzing sound drew his attention to the falling plane.

"Of course." Tribolyte shook his head. "The last piece would be in the plane."

"We'll wait until they crash and take it from them." The Baron checked the action on his pistol. "The both of you will have to deal with that thing masquerading as a man."

"That sounds like a plan." Tribolyte put the fragments away. "Take us down, Mr. Cook."

"Yes, sir." Mr. Cook cut one of the balloons loose. The construction descended slowly after the spiraling plane.

The three of them watched the plane heading for the jungle. Ghost Angel used his sword on the thing and vanished inside. Something yellow and purple fell from the spiraling fuselage, disappearing into the leaves.

"Let's check that out." The Baron pointed at where the colorful wreckage had vanished into trees. "We can catch up with the rest at the crash site."

"You heard the good Baron, Mr. Cook." Mad George smiled. "Let's see what hit the ground."

Mr. Cook cut several more balloons loose to let the drawing descend faster. He aimed for a tree marked by a leaf pattern that he had picked out where the target had fallen. It appealed to his design sense and that made it easier to remember where the thing had fallen.

The balloon touched the ground. Tribolyte looked around with his third eye open. He saw the downed yellow and purple laying in a heap. He snapped back to reality.

"It looks like one of their party fell to his death." Tribolyte pointed at the fallen vigilante. "We should make sure before we try to deal with the rest of them."

"Good idea." The Baron hopped over the edge of the basket. He jogged over to where Tribolyte indicated. He bent down to check the body. The Comic still breathed. He stood and fired into the man's back before he searched the body. He found the last stone piece. He took it and walked back to the balloon.

"Let's go." The Baron held up the fragment. "We have what we want."

"Very good, Baron." Tribolyte took the piece and fitted it in with the rest as the Baron climbed back aboard. The globe appeared at his command. "It looks like we are going south. You might need to get cold weather gear ready for us."

"I'll make a call." The Baron put his pistol away. "We'll have men to meet us in Argentina."

"What about the men we had with us?" Tribolyte didn't really care about them. Cannon fodder was cannon fodder.

"They'll rally to a village south of here if they survived their falls." The Baron shrugged. "Then they will call for help which will be sent for them."

"Sounds reasonable." Tribolyte nodded. "We need more speed and altitude, Mr. Cook."

Mr. Cook drew more balloons and hooked them to the basket. The crowd of drawings pulled the trio into the air like a rocket. He added propellers to get them moving in the right direction.

"It looks like things are finally going our way, Herr Baron." Tribolyte settled into the bottom of the basket, map stored at his side where he sat in a corner.

"Hopefully the prize at the end will be worth what we have done." The Baron looked out at the horizon.

[csyphrett]

18

Tim Daschle clutched his seat. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. Something like this always ended in a fiery crash. He had never thought he would be the guest of honor at a barbecue.

"I'm going to try and sit us down." Doc Shadow sounded strained but calm as he tried to hold the plane steady with one of its wings missing. "Get ready to get out as soon as we stop moving."

"What if we blow up?" Tim knew he shouldn't have asked that.

"Then we'll be beyond worrying." Pattern Ghost didn't sound steady from the front seat.

The plane's roof fell away. Ghost Angel peered down at the group. He waved his sword away as he dropped down into the cabin. The deck floor didn't buck him off.

"Get us out of here, G.A.!" Tim tried to keep the panic from his voice. The others were handling things just fine. He was a hero too. He could be calm under pressure.

"I couldn't save you all." Ghost Angel folded his wings into his black jacket. "I'm going to try to give you some lift. Get ready, Shadow."

Ghost Angel raised his hands. Flames appeared at his feet, rushing upwards into the sky. Faces appeared in the flames. They glared around them before vanishing.

The plane steadied it's descent. Shadow pulled back, splitting his shirt under his vest. The aircraft crashed into the trees and kept going. It broke apart but Shadow was already out of his seat. The deck shimmied but he moved like a cat. He pulled Dr. Walkur from her seat and headed for the back of the fuselage.

Pattern Ghost fired his pistol into the front of the plane as he unstrapped from his seat. He didn't want anything to crash into him while he was trying to run for his life. He took a second to wonder how the heck Doc Shadow was out of sight while he was still rolling from his seat.

Ghost Angel pulled Tim out of his seat, spreading his wings again. He took the time to pull the invisible avenger after them as he drifted backwards after the fleeing man of adventure. His calling was being a spirit of vengeance but he didn't see why he couldn't stretch that to help someone in his line of work so to speak.

"Had enough excitement for one day, Tim?" Ghost Angel drifted where Doc Shadow waited to leap from the plane.

"Heck no." Tim shouted back. His guardian wasn't going to hear him confess that he wanted to go home. "Give me some more."

Ghost Angel wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he did.

Doc Shadow leaped from the plane in front of Tim. The sidekick blinked his eyes and the hero was gone. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even jumping from a moving death trap.

Tim found himself looking out on the slow moving trees. Ghost Angel dropped him on one with a flap of his wings. He heard branches cracking as he scrambled to climb down to the ground. He didn't want to be stuck in a tree if some of those soldiers had made it to the ground after Ghost Angel had ran amuck.

Tim reached the ground. He looked around. He didn't see any of the others. Where had they gone?

"Looks like we're walking home." Pattern Ghost's voice sounded from above. "Have you seen the others?"

"No." Tim looked around, straightening his tie and suit. He had lost his hat in the excitement. He would have to get another when he got home.

"They're that way." Ghost Angel dropped out of the sky. He pointed back the way the plane had carved a path through the jungle.

"Why didn't the plane blow up?" Pattern Ghost sounded relieved to Tim.

"Shadow must have dumped the fuel." Ghost Angel started to fade away. "Go south if you want to catch up with the Germans."

"Let's go." Tim started in the indicated direction. "Doc Shadow isn't going to wait on us."

The two made their way through the underbrush, trying to be careful to keep to clear paths. Neither one had anything to cut through vines and thorn bushes. Pattern Ghost certainly wasn't going to burn his way through with his pistol.

They found Doc Shadow and Dr. Walkur bending over the body of the Comic. The man of adventure had one hand on the vigilante's neck.

"Is he dead?" Tim joined the two. No one was going to kill one of his friends.

Well, technically the Comic wasn't a friend.

"No." Doc Shadow slung the vigilante over his shoulder. "We have to go."

"G.A. said to go south if we want to catch up with the rats." Tim wondered how Dr. Walkur had gotten his hat. He held out his hand for it.

"As soon as we reach a phone, I'll see if we can get some help." Doc Shadow moved silently through the jungle, leading the rest. "We'll need a plane and cold weather gear if we want to go to Antarctica."

"How do you know they're going to Antarctica?" Pattern Ghost tried to conceal the struggle he was having with his heavy suit in the jungle heat.

"I saw their map." Doc paused after a few moments. He placed the Comic under a tree. "I'm going ahead. Wait here."

Tim missed how he merged with the trees and disappeared. It was similar to what he saw Ghost Angel do all the time. He didn't think he liked it in the living.

"What do you think he's doing?" Tim watched bugs dancing in the air.

"He's getting us another plane." Pattern Ghost rested under another tree. He seemed to be watching a lizard on a branch.

"Where would he get a plane?" Tim glared at the man.

"I was kidding." Pattern Ghost shrugged.

"He's cutting a trail for us." Dr. Walkur wiped her forehead with a napkin, and a juggling of her pith helmet. "I'm sure he's trying to find the easiest way he can so we don't lose time."

"What's the plan when we reach Antarctica?" Tim didn't want to admit that he had never left the country before this. He hoped that the folks back home weren't worrying too much.

"We find that fancy dan and we take back the map pieces and keep them from finding whatever they're looking for down there." Pattern Ghost turned enough to keep his face hidden so he could open his helmet and wipe his face before closing the visor again. "We can't let them have it. There's no telling what's there, or how dangerous it is."

"I think they killed the rest of my expedition." Dr. Walkur frowned as she stared after Doc Shadow. "I won't let them have whatever they want."

Doc Shadow emerged from the jungle. He had several plants in his hands.

"First, we take care of our own." Doc searched his vest with his hands. "Then we take care of our enemy."

[DusterBoy]

This is better than Hollywood! Great work csyphrett! :D :thumbup:

[bubba smith]

i concur

[csyphrett]

19

Codename: V considered plans as he stood on a dock in Southern Argentina. Intelligence had provided information about a German icebreaker arriving along the wharves. A set of binoculars allowed him to watch the loading.

He had to get on board if he wanted to continue the operation.

The agent thought he spotted an opening. Some of the sailors headed into the nearby city for leave. If one of them should happen to miss the departure, who would notice that someone with the same face had gone aboard and was performing their duties.

Codename: V put the glasses away and set off to intercept his choices of targets. He kept to the backways, moving from shadow to shadow. No one seemed to see him in his great coat and slouch hat, thin face held in stolid indifference.

Only the intentness of his gaze betrayed he had a goal in mind as he paced along.

The agent found the group of sailors as they paused at a crossroads. They debated amongst themselves which way they should go. Finally they split up to follow their own interests. A couple of them picked up a shadow, walking behind them while keeping out of sight as naturally as possible.

Codename: V watched them go into a house of ill repute. He decided to wait for them to return to the ship. He needed a vantage point to arrange an ambush.

The agent changed his appearance to match his chosen target with the help of a makeup kit, some clothes that almost matched what the man had worn, and time to accomplish things. No one would be able to tell the difference as long as his mask wasn't marred.

He needed to listen to the man talk so he could get the accent right. He already spoke German as fluently as a native to the Fatherland.

Codename: V waited patiently for the two men to finish their business and start back for the ship. He listened to them talk as he walked behind them. His ambush site was ahead. He grimaced at what he proposed to do. He needed both men to make it back to the ship, but he could only impersonate one of them.

He would have to make sure not to execute the other to make his impersonation believable.

The master of disguise grabbed the other man by the back of the neck. He couldn't afford for his disguise to be seen before he reached the icebreaker. He applied pressure and the man went down without a sound.

The target of the impersonation turned when he saw his friend hit the ground. A hand spun him around before he got a close look at their attacker. A choke hold put him to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Codename: V rifled their pockets for identification and money. He took his primary target and dumped him in a barrel without clothing. He donned the uniform to complete his disguise. He threw his original secondhand gear away since he didn't need it anymore. He awakened the other man when he was sure no one had seen the substitution.

"We have been robbed." Codename: V planted the idea. "I don't have anything left."

If the man suspected the exchange, the agent would have to kill him and go back to the ship as the other man. He could claim that the man had separated from him to visit a brothel on his own.

"We should get back to the ship, Gustav." V smiled inwardly. He didn't have to kill the other man after all. "We will have to worry about our identification later. The captain will leave us if we're not at roll call."

"I agree." The agent helped his victim along.

The two men arrived at the docks last. The others V had observed were already boarding the gangplank. Some waved at the two men. V waved back to keep up his impersonation. Now he had to fit in with numerous people who knew the target.

V pushed aside his worries and let the other man do the explaining about their appearance. He wanted to gather intelligence to use. He could do that by keeping silent and listening to everyone who came within earshot.

The more he knew, the better his disguise.

The agent drifted, picking up that the crew was still on stand down. He searched the ship without seeming to, talking to any who talked to him and disengaging as soon as possible. He couldn't give himself away before the ship left the harbor.

It looked like a standard cold weather expedition. He found nothing out of the ordinary.

Codename: V retired to his bunk. He turned in, listening as the crew went about its business. When they sailed, he would do some more investigating. Until then he would stay out of the way.

Information was his business. He needed to relay some of what he had gathered back to the listening post the service kept on the mainland. Other agents would be mobilized for a rescue if he needed it.

He doubted he would. He had informed Doctor Shadow of the overall scheme. The American had not prevented the artifacts from being gathered, but had acted as enough of a smokescreen that the agent had been able to infiltrate the target zone. That had been greatly beneficial.

Doc Shadow had a reputation. So far he had lived up to it. No doubt he was thinking of some way to catch up to the Baron and his partners. A plane crash and a walk through the jungle wouldn't stop him.

And his entourage had their own abilities that added to the mix.

Codename: V had sent in descriptions for a records search. The service had sent back small files gathered about the subjects. The information indicated they were a match to keep up with the good doctor. That made them valuable as distractions also.

He had to find out what the Baron wanted and seize it. War was on the way. England needed every weapon it could lay hands on to fight it.

He felt it would be easier to put bullets in everyone aboard and take the map from Tribolyte. He decided not to do that since he had no idea how to make the map work in the first place. He needed to wait.

Codename: V listened to the ship get under way. Soon enough he would have to join the crew and carry out his new duties. He had a period of weeks to perfect his disguise and work to keep blending in with the rest of the sailors on deck.

He had time to figure out how to get on the expedition when they reached land. He would have to figure out his escape plan when he saw the lay of the land.

He needed to work on planning ahead. Improvisation had its uses, but nothing matched being able to maneuver others into carrying out his missions for him without anyone else knowing he was involved.

That would the perfect mission. He could sit back and watch from a distance without anyone realizing his hand moved the pieces. Unfortunately that rarely happened in his experience.

Sometimes he had to reveal himself to carry out his orders no matter how much he wanted to remain invisible.

[csyphrett]

Thanks guys. Sometimes, I am not sure if I am being clear in the stated actions.
CES

[DusterBoy]

I like your depiction of CodenameL V, csyphrett. He's a ninja genin in all but name.

PS: Genin was the rank of ninja that actually carried out the missions.

[csyphrett]

I like your depiction of CodenameL V, csyphrett. He's a ninja genin in all but name.

PS: Genin was the rank of ninja that actually carried out the missions.

Well he does have three very important sources: V that posts here on the boards and lives in London, I believe. V's avatar which is V from V for Vendetta. and The Shadow.
CES

[DusterBoy]

Well he does have three very important sources: V that posts here on the boards and lives in London, I believe. V's avatar which is V from V for Vendetta. and The Shadow.
CES

Groovius maximus, babius! :thumbup:

[csyphrett]

20


Doc Shadow examined the sky as he led the way through the jungle. The foliage parted for him like water. He scouted ahead and returned to make sure none of his new colleagues got in trouble.

The Germans' ability to fly had gained them the upper hand at the moment. He needed a plane to catch up. Whatever they wanted, he was determined to not let them have it.

Doc paused at the edge of the jungle. The way ahead had been cleared for a plantation. Workers picked plants in orderly fields. He could get help from the outside world. One call would put his agents on alert.

Doc doubled back to let the others know his plan. They should know what he planned to do in case of trouble. He didn't need them killed before he could get them on their way back to their homes.

"There's a plantation ahead." Doc appeared in front of the others as they struggled to follow him.
"I'm going to ask to use the phone to get us transportation. Then we can get supplies and rest before we follow our enemies."

"I'm for that." The Comic leaned against a tree. His ribs still hurt but at least the body armor he had sewn into his costume had saved his life from the bullet in the back. "We'll follow as fast as we can."

"No need to hurry." Doc examined the other four. They looked exhausted. "I'll go in and have a talk with the owners. As soon as I can arrange transport to a city with an airport, I'll come back and get you."

"Sounds like a plan." The Comic pulled himself straight. "Let's get going, gold bricks. The faster we can get out of this mess, the better I'll like it."

"Five more minutes." Tim crouched, face red, shirt soaked through. "I can barely walk."

"Take your time." Doc turned to go. "If there's any trouble, circle south and follow the road to wherever it leads. The plantation has to have some way to export their goods to the rest of the world."

"We'll get there." The Comic lifted Tim up on his unhurt side. "I'll carry the boy."

"We'll carry the boy." Pattern Ghost lifted on Tim's other side. "Look out for us, Dr. Walkur."

Doc Shadow retraced his steps as the crimebusters followed as fast as they could. He reached the plantation easily. He descended toward the fields. He felt it was better to talk to one of the workers before trying the person in charge.

Laborers tended to be friendlier than their bosses.

Doc Shadow joined a line of men, examining the plants they worked hard to gather. He frowned at the beans they placed in bags.

"What do you want here?" One of the men glared at the newcomer.

"I hoped to call for assistance." Doc decided he had been right to walk in alone. "My plane crashed in the jungle."

"Don't let the overseers see you." Another of the men stared around him as he spoke. "They shoot strangers on sight."

"Is there anywhere I can go to use a phone?" Doc kept his eyes moving.

"Not around here." The men tried to edge away from the stranger. "You must leave before there's trouble."

"Thank you." Doc faded out of line. He decided to meet with the others to plan their next move. He couldn't let them walk into potential trouble.

Doc made it halfway back to the concealing jungle when he heard someone shout. He looked around. A man on a horse leveled a rifle at him in the distance. He sprinted for the trees.

Bullets clawed for the man of adventure. His speed carried him to the trees as divots of dirt erupted around him. He pulled his own pistol as he went. He inserted a special shell as he kept moving.

Doc didn't bother to shoot at the guard. The range was too much for his pistol. Instead he fired the shell into the ground at his feet. Darkness covered him in an expanding fog of blackness.

Doc headed in the direction his comrades would be coming toward him. He needed to tell them they were about to be hunted by angry slave owners. He expected their reaction to be less than positive.

Doc found the others struggling along. They weren't in any shape for a fight after their trek through the jungle.

"We have trouble coming." Doc looked back at where the plantation lay. "I need you to hide until I deal with this."

"You just can't stay out of trouble." The Comic limped to a nearby tree. "I hope the rest of you can climb trees."

"You go ahead." Pattern Ghost nodded. "I'll hand Tim up. Then we can set up our own ambush."

"I'll take this tree over here." Haven indicated a tree across from the one the Comic was scurrying up. "I wish I had brought my pistol."

"I'll circle around and try to flank them." Doc started into the trees. In a few seconds he had vanished with his usual speed and silence.

Doc heard men heading into the jungle as he circled around. He had determined that he wouldn't let them get close to his new friends. He would ambush them from behind before they reached the clearing where the others waited.

Doc checked the load in his pistol as he worked his way around the search pattern the plantation guards had set up to entrap him. He didn't want to kill anyone, but he wasn't going to let them hurt anyone in distress.

The others needed water, food, and rest. They were tough, but they were also at the edge of their resources. A mouse could kill them the way they were now.

Doc found himself at the back of the spreading crowd on their horses. No one looked his way. He pointed the pistol and let fly. Clouds of gas covered the horsemen. They didn't have time to look around before they started falling asleep. The horses dropped their heads as they fell asleep also.

Doc faded into the greenery. He reloaded as he watched for others. No one seemed to be in the trees with him.

Doc listened for a few minutes more. Then he went over to the fallen guards. He started tying them up with their belts, making sure to throw their weapons away. He didn't want them to cause problems while he was dealing with the rest of the situation.

He headed back to the edge of the jungle. He wondered how many he had left to try and stop him. He needed to find that out before he headed down into the growing fields.

Doc pulled out his binoculars and scanned the cleared area in front of him. There were a few men looking back at him with hands over their eyes for shading. He doubted they could see him where he was standing.

Doc couldn't shoot them from where he stood.

Doc also couldn't head down there. That would leave him open to be shot with rifles as he headed down there.

He could set fire to their crops. That would cause some commotion. Maybe he could use that as a distraction.

That would suit him fine.

Doc decided to circle around the clearing. If everyone was on this side of the giant farm, he could come in from the other side. All he needed was a phone. After that, burning the place down became a viable alternative.

[csyphrett]

21
Tim blinked his eyes. He looked out over the trees. He couldn’t see anyone. Where was the bad guys?

“I think Doc took care of them.” Tim wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“I think so too.” The Comic shifted in his perch. “We’ll give him a couple more minutes. Then we’ll move to another lookout.”

Tim nodded. He felt hot and tired. His tongue filled his mouth like a giant slug. He needed the water.

After the time elapsed, the Comic and Tim climbed down out of their trees. They started forward, looking for a counter ambush from the search party they expected. Haven Walkur joined them moments later.

“Where is Pattern Ghost?” The doctor straightened her pith helmet. “We seem to have lost him.”

“Maybe he went after Doc.” Tim struggled forward. The trees and bushes wouldn’t get out of his way like he expected.

“Let me.” Haven pushed forward. She led the way with care. She held up her hand after a few moments. Then she gestured for them to come forward.

They found a mass of men sleeping on the ground. Rifles, pistols, and knives were in a jumble to one side. More important, some of the sleeping horses had canteens on their saddles.

“Slowly.” Haven pulled one of the canteens and sniffed it. It seemed all right to her. “If I fall over, the water is no good for us.”

“Don’t jinx us, Doc.” The Comic took the rest of the canteens. They needed it more than the guards.

Haven sipped the water. It tasted warm, and a little bitter. Still she didn’t feel anything happening to her gut. She took a deeper drink.

“What do we do now?” Tim looked at the edge of trees. He thought the plantation they had spoken of had to be beyond that line. That gave them a large amount of ground they would have to cover if they wanted to get to the main house.

“We check out if there are any more guards next.” The Comic hung the canteens over his shoulder. “Then we come up with a plan to make them come up here just like this bunch.”

“What about Doctor Shadow?” Haven grabbed several of the discarded pistols and loaded them in her jacket pockets.

“He went in.” The Comic limped to the line where the cover started to fade away. “You know the man. He probably thinks he’s protecting us.”

“I suppose Pattern Ghost did the same thing.” Dr. Walkur squatted beside the bright vigilante, rifle in hand.

“He is invisible.” Tim stood beside a tree on the other side of a slit next to his two allies. “I should call G.A. to speed things up.”

“How did you two become partners anyway?” The Comic eyed the kid.

“I found him.” Tim watched the guards waiting in the fields below where they stood. “They don’t seem ready to come up here.”

“We’re definitely not ready to go down there.” The Comic counted the enemy as he checked his gear. “They’re all looking up here. They don’t know what happened to their friends, they don’t want what happened to their friends happening to them.”

“I agree.” Haven pointed the rifle down at the field. “How do we lure them up here?”

“Can you shoot one of them?” Tim put his back to the tree. “Maybe that will stir them up.”

“Take some water, Tim.” Haven handed over the canteen. “I was thinking of asking Ghost Angel to go down and talk with them.”

“I can ask him.” Tim sipped the water. “He likes to do his own thing.”

“Exploding heads is good with me, kid.” The Comic raised his mask just enough to wipe his face off.

“Just the right ones.” Haven squinted at the plantation. “We don’t want our friends getting caught in the crossfire.”

Tim sipped his water. He nodded. He didn’t have any control over Ghost Angel. The Spirit of Vengeance did what he wanted to do. Causing heads to explode was his way of doing things the easiest way he knew how.

Someone else could clean up the mess when he was done.

Tim sipped some more water. His mouth felt better. At least nothing was trying to kill him. He would ask G.A. after this was done.

He didn’t want something living inside of him because he had to drink bad water.

“Let’s do this.” The Comic straightened. “The faster we get to a good hotel, the better I’ll like it.”

“All right.” Tim looked around the tree. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

Tim said his mantra. Ghost Angel appeared in front of them. His expression seemed more concerned about Tim then he usually expressed.

“Can you help us?” Tim looked at his guardian. “We want to go down and talk to the guy who owns that joint down there.”

“I’m the Spirit of Vengeance, not the auto club.” Ghost Angel frowned at Tim.

“These guys came up to kill us.” The Comic pointed at the sleeping mob. “Doesn’t that qualify for talking to the rest before you go back to wherever you hang your hat.”

“Your invisible man is down there.” Ghost Angel looked at the masked vigilante. “I’m sure he’s working on some scheme.”

“Don’t you think he needs help?” Dr. Walkur studied the thing in black. She had heard about such things. That didn’t make the boogie real. Folklore was full of such things.

“I don’t have to explain myself.” Ghost Angel looked at her. Her face warmed at the look.

“Do you mind?” Tim sipped some more water. “We need to get out of this jungle. Doc Shadow is down there, Pattern Ghost is down there. We need to look out for them, just as much as we have to get the job done.”

“I’ll go down there and talk to them.” Ghost Angel turned and started walking. “Stay here until it looks safe.”

“I hope this is a good idea.” The Comic watched the thing drift away.

“Get ready to cover your eyes if he takes off his glasses.” Tim made sure his own sunglasses covered his face.

“How does he do what he does?” Haven turned so she couldn’t look down on the fields without effort. That should minimize accidents. “I didn’t get much of a chance to observe on the plane.”

“I don’t know.” Tim sat down. “I think it’s spirit power.”

“But what is that?” Haven looked at Tim. He didn’t look healthy to her. “How does it work?”

“I don’t know.” Tim closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “All I know is he has some kind of energy and he can use it. I don’t know anything else about it.”

“It doesn’t matter how he does what he does.” The Comic gestured for Haven to stop talking. “We just need him to clear a path for us.”

Haven nodded. The Comic kept his eyes on the thing in black, but he also seemed to be watching Tim for problems. The boy could die on them from dehydration.

What would Ghost Angel do if that happened?

“Get ready to go when Ghost Angel scares them off.” The Comic hopped over the notch in the foliage. “We’ll have to get down there fast if we want to get cover close to the guys we need to beat up.”

“Do you think Pattern Ghost and Doctor Shadow will understand the plan?” Haven pointed her rifle at the guards.

“We’ll know soon enough.” The Comic hooked Tim’s arm with his own. “Get ready to run.”

[DusterBoy]

Oooh, the tension is making my fingertips tingle! :)

Great work, csyphrett! :celebrate

[csyphrett]

22


Pattern Ghost walked pass the workers in the field. His suit was on. Invisibility brought some relief from the tropical heat.

He figured he was halfway across the fields when he noted the disturbance rolling through the guards behind him. Then he saw Ghost Angel striding forward with fedora pulled low. The guards aimed rifles at him.

"Run!" Pattern Ghost called out. He didn't want the workers killed in the crossfire. "Vamonos!"

The field hands looked around for the unseen caller. Then they decided to follow the unseen command. They ran, leaving their bags on the ground behind him. They would pick the sacks up if someone gathered them back up to work the plants again.

The guards tried to decide whether they shoot the fleeing men in the back, or shoot the advancing spirit. Pattern Ghost decided to give them something else to think about. He fired his electric pistol into the ground between the running workers and the horsemen. A cloud of dirt blasted into a fog to provide cover.

Pattern Ghost shifted position. He didn't want them to zero in on him. The pistol used too much of his power in his suit which caused his invisibility to flicker like a flash camera bulb.

Ghost Angel said something to one of the guards as he came down the last few feet to where they tried to get their horses under control. Pattern Ghost kept moving. He knew what the spirit could do to gun men when he was that close.

A scream followed the invisible avenger as he made his way to the compound of buildings. If there was anyone inside, he could deal with them while Ghost Angel did his thing. At least heads weren't exploding yet.

Pattern Ghost paused when he saw Doc Shadow making for the back door of the mansion. It looked like they both had the same idea. The invisible man went to the front door. More guards were trying to shut and bar the wooden barrier.

Pattern Ghost paused long enough to take aim with his electric pistol. He pulled the trigger. The guards screamed as exploding wood sent splinters into their skins. Men screamed as they clutched at their burnt flesh.

Pattern Ghost picked his way pass the troops. He wanted to get inside to look around. If Ghost Angel kept coming, he wouldn't need to worry about them for much longer.

Pattern Ghost headed into the house, looking around. He didn't want to use the pistol on a living person. That would turn the target into a rotten tomato against a wall. He had nothing against using it against walls, doors, floors, and furniture.

Doc Shadow appeared briefly at the other end of the mansion. The house had been built to leave most of the bottom floor open from front to back. Stairs led to the second story.

"I'm here, Doc Shadow." Pattern Ghost moved to avoid anyone using his voice to home in on where he stood. It had become habit after the last few years of his career.

Doc Shadow maintained his silence. The fact that his name had been shouted in a fortress in the middle of a jungle might make the owner a little scared.

That depended on how far Doc's reputation had spread to the backwaters of the world.

Pattern Ghost started up the stairs. He wanted to be across such a narrow gap before something happened. Men with pistols could fill the space between wall and rail with bullets before he could fire with his own weapon.

Pattern Ghost jumped on the landing and moved next to a bedroom door. The door opened. The resident inside looked out but saw no one in the hall. Pattern Ghost slammed the door in the half a face he could see. He pulled the knob on the rebound so the entrance would close to whoever was inside.

Pattern Ghost went the next door in line. He pushed it open from a distance. A hail of bullets persuaded him not to go inside.

Pattern Ghost peeked around the frame when the gunfire paused. He aimed the pistol and fired at a desk. The wood went up in flames from the artificial lightning. He looked again. The shooter lay on the carpet, face blackened by the blast.

Pattern Ghost moved on. He needed to find anyone else in the rooms and make sure they couldn't be a threat while Doc Shadow did whatever he was doing.

Voices drifted to him from the last room on the right. It sounded like Spanish but he only spoke a few words. Then he heard the bang of wood on something. An invisible hand slid the door open so he could look inside the room.

Doc Shadow held a phone to his ear. He had his pistol pointed at the door as he spoke. Feet sticking out from behind the desk explained the crack Pattern Ghost heard. Doc spoke into the phone, then hung up.

"Transportation is on the way." Doc started for the door, holding the pistol ready but pointed at the floor.

"Tim turned Ghost Angel loose on the farm hands." Pattern Ghost stepped out of the way to let him pass. "I don't know how many are still alive."

"Let's get the others." Doc headed for the stairs. "A plane will be arriving to pick us up soon."

"What about this plantation?" Pattern Ghost stayed steps behind the man of adventure. Anyone who came upon them would target Doc Shadow first. That would give him an edge to return fire.

"Foreigners own the land. They make sure that no one knows what is going on, and bribe anyone who might be interested in stopping it." Doc headed for the back door. "I'll see what I can do when I reach home."

"Don't tell me you're going to buy the land." Pattern Ghost shook his head. "Can you do that?"

"We'll see what we can do for these people when we have caught up with our combined enemies." Doc Shadow used the frame of the double doors as cover. The last thing he wanted was to look Ghost Angel in the eye. "That's the best we can do at the moment."

"Got it." Pattern Ghost opened the back door and headed out into the yard. He figured the buildings on the left and right were barracks for the men. "I'll go ahead and get the others."

"I'll look around for stragglers." Doc Shadow broke off. "I'll see you when you get back. Be careful."

Pattern Ghost walked back across the field. He noted only one body with its head gone. No one else stood on the field but Ghost Angel. He had scared the men and horses bad enough to send all of them running for the hills.

The invisible avenger would have done the same if he was in their shoes.

He had to admit he had his fill of excitement over the last few days. If only one corpse was all that remained on the field, he was happy.

"You come back alone, invisible man?" Ghost Angel blew smoke from his lips as he lowered his hand. It was almost like he was smoking an invisible cigarette.

"Doc Shadow is checking out the rest of the buildings." Pattern Ghost was glad he held his pistol in his hand for all the good it would do him. Ghost Angel may be Tim's attack dog, but that didn't make him friendly to the rest of them. "We're moving into the house. Doc had a talk with the owner."

"I'm sure he did." Ghost Angel took another puff of cigarette. "I expect Tim to be on the next plane home."

"We're going ahead." Pattern Ghost made sure to keep his face averted. "We need your help, and Tim is the only one you listen to. I doubt he'll go on his own."

"Tim is not my commander." Ghost Angel threw the ghost cigarette away in a drifting spark. "He just points when he sees something wrong. I don't want him hurt chasing this particular breed of criminal down."

"We'll do what we can to keep him safe." Pattern Ghost hoped that wasn't the wrong thing to say. "Doc has already called for a plane. We'll be heading into civilization to rest and regroup. I'll keep an eye on Tim myself."

"I'll hold you to that." Ghost Angel faded from the field with each word. "If something happens to Tim while in your care, I will not be pleased."

Pattern Ghost groaned. Then he headed for the jungle to find the rest of the gang. It was time to get together.

[csyphrett]

23

Dr. Haven Walkur smiled for the first time in days. She sipped tea as she waited for her hair to dry in the South American sun. Soon enough, she would have very little reason to smile.

"Doc called." The Comic called through the door. "We're heading out."

"Give me a few minutes to get dressed." Haven called back.

"Can I watch?" The Comic called back.

"Don't be ridiculous." Haven had a suit of traveling clothes laid out on the bed. She pulled them on quickly, making sure her brace of revolvers were loaded and ready to use.

Haven stepped out in the hall. The Comic had gone ahead. She suspected he was the type of person to peek through keyholes.

Haven reached the front of the hotel. The Comic, Tim, and Doc Shadow waited for her at the door. The staff waved at her as she passed. She suspected they thought she and Doc Shadow were involved and Tim's parents.

She waved back.

Doc Shadow was famous as a scientist, adventurer, and a self made millionaire. That was good qualifications for most women. Having spent time with the man, Haven knew he would be terrible as a husband.

He just didn't have the mind set for it.

"I have arctic wear and gear ready for us at the airport." Doc Shadow got behind the wheel of the car to drive them to the hangar he had secured through his agents. "Another flying boat will help us get ahead of the Germans."

"How do we find them?" The Comic appeared more chipper since he had time for the ache in his back to lessen.

"I'm sure they are headed to a mountainous plain towards the center of the continent." Doc Shadow concentrated on the road ahead. "We'll have to trail them once they start overland. I don't see any way to stop them from getting to the treasure. They have too much of a head start."

"So we catch them at the treasure spot, or on the way back." Tim smoothed his fresh black tie down as the slipstream from their traveling invaded the car.

"If we can." Doc didn't emphasize the fact they might not be able to stop the enemy once they had their hands on whatever they were after.

"What do you think the treasure could be?" Haven rode shotgun, letting the wind dry her hair as they rode along.

"I don't know." Doc dodged a man leading a donkey carrying goods.

"We know the map is old as dirt." The Comic made sure to keep his masked face hidden from passersby on the street. "My piece came from Persia as far as my grandfather could trace back."

"The one I discovered with my expedition was hidden in a temple that we just discovered." Haven closed her eyes to picture the site again. "We tentatively placed the date before Christ but we weren't sure."

"So whatever they are looking for has been there for a long time." Doc passed another car, crossed several more streets, then turned on the road heading to the airport.

He pulled his pistol as he glanced in the mirror.

"I think we have trouble." Doc sped up, pushing the pedal all the way down.

A truck backed up in front of them to block the road. Men poured out. They pointed machine guns at the speeding car. They pulled their triggers.

Haven ducked down behind the dashboard. Her pistols roared flame at the spies trying to kill them. She heard Tim shouting something that sounded like Get off, but she was more concerned by the bullets smashing the window glass in front of her.

Doc Shadow pointed his left arm out the window on his side and fired his pistol. Dark clouds marked gas being delivered to the agents. His right arm aimed the car for an opening around the truck so they could keep on course without being trapped by Hitler's minions.

Haven concentrated on simply clearing the sights of any target she might see as they rolled on. Several men sprouted bloody flowers as they went down.

The Comic's laughter filled the car for a few seconds as the back window broke out from his baton. He filled the roadway with contents from his utility belt. Explosions, smoke, and screams filled the air when the pursuit cars hit his traps.

Haven felt a tug on her arm, pulling her back inside of the car. The Ford went up on two wheels as Doc negotiated the turn. It slammed down on the other side of the truck. She turned to look behind her.

Chaos reigned on the access road. Their little group had broken free while leaving a bevy of bodies and damage that would stall the agents until their plane was up in the air.

"You didn't have to push me down." Tim brushed his jacket off. "I just got this suit."

"Pattern Ghost promised your guard dog that he would take responsibility for you." The Comic handed Tim his hat. "Since he couldn't be here, I figured I owed him enough to make sure you didn't get ventilated."

"G.A. would never do anything." Tim pulled his hat back on. "He's a big softie."

"Don't you believe that, kid." The Comic secured his pouches. "Ghost Angel is anything but a softie."

"He's dangerous, Tim." Haven reloaded her pistols. "And for some reason he wants to protect you."

"He can't protect me." Tim adjusted his glasses. "He's a spirit of vengeance. Protecting people is not in their mission."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't want to." Haven tucked one of the pistols away, but held on to the other one in case of trouble. "If I didn't know better, I would say he's attached to you."

"That goes double for me." The Comic looked out the back window. "I'm dead certain."

"Spirits of vengeance aren't allowed attachments." Tim huffed in the back seat, arms crossed. "They'll take away his job."

"You're his friend." The Comic nodded at the sound of sirens in the distance. That didn't promise help for them. Cops could have been paid to stop them if the ambush failed. "Ask him."

"What do you think, Doc?" Tim frowned at the lot of them.

"There's our hangar." Doc slid the car to a halt in front of the metal building. "Everyone out and ready."

Doc jumped from behind the wheel. He still had half a clip of gas bullets in his pistol. He would use them on anyone he saw that looked dangerous.

Haven jumped out on her side. She didn't see anyone lurking. She hoped Pattern Ghost hadn't fallen in some kind of trap.

"Looks all clear, Doc." The Comic dragged Tim with him. "Let's check the plane."

Doc Shadow went to the door. He pushed it open with a call. He didn't want Pattern Ghost shooting him by mistake. He didn't see anything. He heard a small buzzing.

"What's going on?" Pattern Ghost's voice drifted down from above. "I heard a commotion."

"We had a welcoming party." Doc lowered his weapon. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." Pattern Ghost spoke from a little to the left. "Everything is packed and ready like we talked about."

"Then let's get out of here before more goons show up." The Comic pushed the doors open wide so the new plane glistened in the daylight. "Time's wasting."

[Haven Walkur]

Very entertaining, Csyphrett. Kudos for successfully keeping track of so many characters -- and keeping them in character.

[csyphrett]

Thank you very much.
CES

[csyphrett]

Doctor Algernon Shadow sat in the pilot's seat, watching the ocean fly by below. The Comic sat in the copilot's seat scanning his side of the plane. Pasted to the window was a picture of the ship they were looking for in that expanse.

"You said you thought the Germans were heading towards the center of the continent." Haven Walkur sat in a passenger seat behind Doc. "What made you think that?"

"The map I saw had a particular spot marked out." Doc Shadow checked the fuel gauge. "I'm sure that a sign will reveal itself once we get closer to it."

"How do you think they're getting there from the coast?" Tim Daschle spoke from the other passenger seat. The Comic and Doc Shadow were the detectives like Sherlock Holmes, or Craig Kennedy. Dr. Walkur was smarter than he was, but he figured she didn't have to search for a lot of clues with what she did.

Archaeology probably didn't teach anything about solving mysteries.

"There's various ways." Doc Shadow didn't elaborate on what he thought would be used. The others gave him faces of disgust at his reticence.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Haven closed her eyes.

"Dog sleds, treaded carriers, skis, or some kind of flying device like a balloon or plane could be used." Doc's voice didn't vary as he talked.

"I know what you're thinking." The Comic glanced at his comrade. "They're going to fly to wherever they have to go."

"It crossed my mind." Doc seemed reluctant to admit that much. "It fitted with the balloons they used to escape from the jungle."

"You could just say that." Tim tapped the arm of his chair.

"He won't because of the way he thinks." Haven smiled at the sidekick.

"I don't understand." Tim looked back, smoothing his tie down.

"He doesn't like to guess. He likes to see what's going on while planning for the chance he's right." The Comic's laughter filled the cabin.

"Exactly." Haven smiled again.

"What happens if you're wrong, Doc?" Tim smiled now that he understood what's going on.

"If you plan for everything, you're never wrong." Doc kept his own amusement to himself. He didn't realize he was that transparent.

"So let's say they're going to fly from wherever they land." The Comic turned his attention back to the ocean. "What are the likeliest places they can launch from down there?"

"I have charts from the aerial expeditions." Haven pulled the tubes from their slots and opened one while tucking one in her seat beside her leg. "Assuming they sailed straight south, there are at least five places they could land and set up a runway to put a plane in the air."

"If we don't find the ship, we'll check them next." Doc checked his watch. "We're about halfway along their possible route."

"They can't be that far ahead." The Comic took his glasses from his eyes for a moment. "They only left a few days ahead of us."

"Ships aren't that fast?" Tim hadn't thought about that.

"No." Haven put the first tube back in its rack with contents replaced. "The ocean creates resistance for a ship to plow over when under sail. A plane is much faster."

"The difference is that a plane is faster but has limited range." The Comic put in. "A ship can carry cargo and has a longer range because of its bigger tanks."

"I got that." Tim nodded. "Since we don't know where they went, they can take their time and try to shake us."

"Exactly." Haven nodded as she unrolled the other map. "Our job will be to catch up to them and find out what's going on."

"What are you looking at, Doctor Walkur?" Tim looked over, stretching against his seatbelt.

"Antarctica has had several aerial expeditions fly over it." Haven showed him the chart by holding it in front of her body. "The captains had maps drawn up to add to what we know."

"I can't read it." Tim squinted at the drawing. "It's just a bunch of wavy lines to me."

"This is a picture of what they passed over as best they could draw it." Haven indicated one spot on the map. "This is a mountain that was estimated at being twenty-thousand feet."

"And this is where we think they're going?" Tim nodded his head. "Can't we just fly to the mountains and check it out."

"We'll lose them if we're wrong." The Comic cut in on the lesson. "Just because Doc saw a region marked, doesn't mean they'll go there."

"And we could run out of fuel while searching." Doc checked his watch again. "It would be bad to be trapped at the South Pole with no transportation."

"We'd freeze to death before we reached the ocean to try and sail back to South America." Haven beat the Comic to the punch. She could tell by the way he winced over his spyglasses.

"I can see that." Tim smiled in understanding. "Will we have to land?"

"Only if we have to refuel." Doc indicated the cargo area of the plane. "That's why I had storage tanks placed on board."

"Is there anything I can do?" Tim looked at the others.

"There's nothing you can do unless you want to search from one of the windows in the back." Doc checked his watch again. He fiddled with the radio dials. "When we land, you'll have to carry some of our gear."

"I can do that." Tim puffed up. "I'll go back and see what I can do. I don't want to just sit around like a fifth wheel."

"It's getting cold as it is." Haven put her chart back before getting out of her seat. "Will the cabin keep everything above zero?"

"It should." Doc listened to the radio on his earphones. "We have heaters in the wings to prevent them from icing up, and we have heaters in the body to keep us warm. I don't know how well they'll perform."

"Let's lay out our cold weather gear, Tim." Haven started for the back of the plane. "We'll set up our packs for traveling."

"Great." Tim followed quickly. "What do you think we'll need?"

"We'll need our coats, insulated clothing, boots for starters." Haven ticked things off on her fingers. "A supply of food, a cooker, and tents to keep out the wind."

"Don't forget the goggles to protect our eyes." Doc still seemed more interested in his radio news.

"I won't." Haven stepped through the door into the main body of the flying boat.

"We need to protect our eyes?" Tim followed, rocking with the deck.

"Snow and ice can cause blindness if you stare at it too long." Haven went to the cases stored on racks against the wall of the plane.

"That's good to know." Tim touched his sunglasses without thinking.

[csyphrett]

25

Codename: V arrived on deck with the rest of the laborers. His disguise had carried him through for the last few days. He didn't know how much longer he could carry it off.

He might have to jump ship and return to civilization somehow.

Codename: V listened to the instructions from a crew chief. Then he joined with his set of crew members to start working bags in place to catch hydrogen from tanks stored below decks.

Soon, a miniature zeppelin reached for the sky. A crew boarded the cigar shaped passenger section by sliding from the deck of the cargo ship and scaling the ropes anchoring the blimp. The Baron had led the crew up.

Codename: V looked around. He had to get on board without being seen. He couldn't allow himself to be left behind. That blimp could take him to the end of things.

The agent grabbed one of the anchor ropes. He hooked it to his belt. He had to make what he was about to do looked like an accident. No one could suspect that he had tied himself to the rope to sail with the blimp.

The other sailors cut loose the moorings. The blimp headed up and away from the shore. The operative cut the base of his line. The balloon yanked him from the deck so that he swung out in the open air.

Codename: V started up the line. He looked down. Some of the crew had seen him flying into space. They pointed up at him. He expected a welcoming committee when he reached the balloon.

The agent saw a door open in the gondola. Men waited there for him. He had no chance if he let go, the rope separated, or if they shot at him. He had to use his disguise to get aboard.

Everyone knew his public face. He could play this off as a spot of bad luck.

V pulled himself up the line. Hands reached out to help him aboard. He took them. If he misjudged, they would throw him from zeppelin. The Baron arrived with his strange passengers. The Englishman stared at him.

V retreated into his disguise, thinking in German, acting as his mark would act. He saluted the Baron, stating his name and rank.

"Seaman Grundt?" The Baron frowned at the new arrival. "What happened?"

"I got caught up in the rope, sir." Seaman Grundt stood at attention. "It yanked me off the deck."

"Why don't you join us, Mr. Grundt?" The Englishman spoke in English. "The more, the merrier."

"Pardon." Seaman Grundt took refuge in ignorance.

"He wants you to join us, Seaman." The Baron turned his gaze on the Englishman. Apparently he didn't have an egalitarian view of the common crew mixing with command and special guests.

"Whatever your please." Codename: V didn't like that at all. That put him at the center of attention.

"Do you speak English, Seaman Grundt?" The Englishman paced ahead to the plastic windows in front of the wheel.

"Some." Grundt walked in what could be considered marching order. He scanned the area for anything useful to his disguise.

"Good." The Englishman gestured for him to stand closer. "What do you see?"

"Snow." Grundt wondered where this was going.

"I see a burial ground for a meddling English secret service agent." The Englishman glared at Codename: V. The master of disguise blew through the window in a shattering of plastic.

V shrugged off the agony in his head to concentrate on saving his own life. He didn't know how his disguise had failed. That was unimportant.

Codename: V reached out with his hands. He secured a grip on the basket. He swung below the gondola. Now he had to get inside without being seen.

Codename: V worked his way around toward the door. He grimaced when he saw men at the door. They seemed to be looking for his body. He wondered how long that would last. He couldn't hang out in the cold forever.

The agent saw a chance to get out this alive. He needed them to be looking the other way while he saved his life.

Since he couldn't get that, he had to do the best he could with what he had.

Codename: V pulled himself up and grabbed a guide rope leading up to the balloon. It would be easy to blow a hole in the side of the basket and wipe everyone out. He was confident that he could take his fellow Briton. That wouldn't get him whatever they were looking for in the frozen wasteland.

The agent scaled the side of the balloon like a spider. He reached the top and headed for the center of the bag. He secured a grip and looked around for options.

He couldn't get into the closed basket without killing everyone in front of him. He couldn't drop off the side and walk back to the boat. The fall would kill him. He didn't have any means of dropping to the ground since the moorings had been pulled in by the zeppelin crew.

Quick eyes spotted a reasonable solution to his problem. He hoped that he had it.

Codename: V moved forward. He found a flap. Ties secured it to the top of the balloon. Crew could climb out of the gas bag through that to affect repairs to the balloon. He would have to cut if he wanted to get through that.

And he had a knife.

Codename: V slipped his blade under the flap. He cut the ties. He dropped down inside the gas bag. He pulled the flap shut behind him.

V secured the flap before making his way to the hatch leading down into the basket. He couldn't go down there. He couldn't stay in the balloon. Cells held the hydrogen, but any spark would blow up in his face.

V placed a couple of charges against the cells farthest from the hatch. That might be useful as a bargaining chip if he needed it later.

V pondered his next move as the flying craft headed toward the South Pole. Headquarters roughly knew where he was. He doubted the staff would be able to get help to him in time. He needed to think of something, but until then he needed to wait until they reached their destination.

He wondered if Doc Shadow and his helpers were close enough to lend a hand. That might be his only hope in this situation.

V settled in a spot concealed from casual observation from the hatch by repair crew.

[csyphrett]

26


"I think we have paydirt, Doc." The Comic pointed. "It looks like a cargo ship with a ram pulled into that bay down there."

"I see it." Doc Shadow started down. "We'll make sure with a flyby."

The Comic pressed the intercom button to talk to the cargo cabin behind the cockpit.

"We have a ship downstairs. We're going in for a closer look. Grab something to hold."

"Check the name on the bow as we pass." Doc tipped the plane to give the Comic a good look. "We'll look for anyone crossing the ice beyond."

"Got it." The Comic looked through the glasses as the plane flew by the surprised sailors. "Uh-oh."

"What's going on?" Doc tipped the plane level as he started his climb.

"They have a deck gun." The Comic opened his window and stuck his head out as far as it would go before pulling back in. "Some of them are getting ready to fire it from the looks of things."

"I'll try to climb out of range." Doc pulled back on the yoke. "We can't afford to be shot down."

"We're about to have problems, guys." The Comic hoped the others in the back couldn't tell how afraid he was over the internal phone.

Explosions rocked the plane. Doc fought to keep control. So far everything seemed to be working right. Shrapnel could wreck the wings, tail assembly, and flaps without actually blowing up the plane. They would just crash because the controls stopped working.

"We're opening the back door." Haven sounded more than a little scared. "Try to hold us steady."

Doc kept the plane in a steady climb while trying to keep the wings level. Clouds of antiaircraft fire surrounded their sea duck. The window on the Comic's side cracked from a piece of metal stabbing it like a dagger.

"What are they doing back there?" The Comic turned to look over his shoulder. The cockpit door cut off his vision.

"Draining the batteries." Doc tapped his control board.

The sound of thunder filled the plane. The Comic and Doc both winced from the boom. A larger explosion echoed the first a few seconds later. The air cleared of the gray smoke of death.

"Take us back around." Haven sounded surprised over the intercom. "We want to assess the damage."

"Tell him to make the next one count if he does that again." Doc banked to the right. "The electrical system might blow a fuse."

"Got it." Haven cut the connection.

The Comic whistled as the flying boat turned in a circle. The center of the ice breaker had turned to an expanding column of smoke. One end listed into the cold ocean. Sailors tried to lower life boats to get to land.

He didn't know what they could do to survive the cold wasteland.

"Pattern Ghost stopped them." Doc turned the plane back on course.

"I didn't think that pop gun of his could do that much." Comic scratched the exposed back of his head.

"He must have hit stored shells." Doc pictured the boat when it was whole. He overlaid the new boat sinking to the bottom. "The explosion would have taken out several inner bulkheads. Bad luck would have caused an outer bulkhead to rupture."

"What do we do about the sailors?" The Comic leaned back in his chair.

"Nothing." Doc pulled back on the yoke.

"I can't say that I disagree." The Comic marveled at the cold bloodedness of the decision.

"We can't stop to give aid, we can't take them with us, we can't do anything for them except radio for help." Doc's face hardened from the options they did have. "A German boat might pick them up, but we don't know that."

"So we call for help anyway?" The Comic smiled under his grinning mask.

"I don't kill people if I can avoid it." Doc fiddled with the radio. He sent a message in the clear for anyone to hear it. "The rest is in fortune's hands now."

"That's better than a slow death." The Comic looked ahead of them. The frozen expanse glittered in front of them like a white desert. "What do we do about Fancy Dan? I figure he already took off for the treasure."

"We look at the air courses Dr. Walkur plotted out." Doc checked his memory for the courses he needed, decided on the most likely, and banked the plane onto it. "And we pick one."

"So you think we can catch him?" The Comic examined the ground for vehicles capable of cutting across the snowy waste.

Doc listened to the radio as they flew south, fiddling with the dials. He frowned at the static. Antarctica was an unknown land. No one had set up their weather stations and territories there yet. Still he expected some kind of radio traffic.

There should be someone acknowledging the call for help even if they were out of range.

They might have doomed those sailors to a frozen death.

"How long until we reach the mountains?" The Comic turned his gaze front. The ground seemed calm, and retained tracks. He hadn't seen any which meant their enemies were traveling overland by air like they were.

"A few hours maybe." Doc wiped an eye with the back of his hand. "If you want to get some sleep, I suppose Dr. Walkur, Tim, or Pattern Ghost will be glad to come up."

"I'm fine." The Comic leaned back in his chair. "I tell you one thing. I'll be glad when this is over. All this traveling is for the birds."

Doc said nothing. His reputation was based on his traveling the world. He had circumnavigated the world more times than the US Navy.

"We'll catch up to them before we run out of fuel." Doc checked the gas tank. "Getting back might require taking whatever they are flying."

"That's good to know." The Comic laughed softly. "It means we can't turn Pattern Ghost loose on them."

The plane flew on as the heroes searched for their quarry in the gray sky. The barren wasteland shrouded everything. Then a spot of color revealed itself in the distance.

"I think we're finally catching up to them." The Comic raised his glasses to his eyes. "That looks like a balloon to me."

"I agree." Doc banked to the left. "Hopefully they don't have anyone looking behind them."

"We'll know soon enough." The Comic lowered his glasses. "One of those flying lizards will show up."

"Tell Pattern Ghost to get ready." Doc kept the plane above what he considered the sightline.

"I hope he doesn't have to shoot the balloon." The Comic reached for the intercom button. "That thing will go up like a bomb."

"Hey guys, we're right behind the bad guys." The Comic put the glasses in a bag strapped to his chair. "Get ready for problems."

[Yansuf]

26

Doc listened to the radio as they flew north, fiddling with the dials. He frowned at the static. Antarctica was an unknown land. No one had set up their weather stations and territories there yet. Still he expected some kind of radio traffic.



Shouldn't they be flying south?

[csyphrett]

Shouldn't they be flying south?

you're right, yansuf. Thanks for catching that.
CES

[csyphrett]

27

Doc Shadow traced the air ship as carefully as he could. His flying boat was faster and required more room to maneuver. And eventually they would have to land if they wanted to deal with the Englishman.

The air ship could hover in place, drop anchor, and climb and drop vertically faster than a plane.

And Doc didn't see any landing strips for the boat.

"How do you want to do this?" The Comic arched his neck to watch the ground below them. "I don't see a place to set down."

"We'll think of something." Doc echoed the air ship as best he could, keeping the engines from stalling with his skill. "We need to know where they're going."

"It looks like they're heading into a canyon." The Comic looked on the wasteland. "Can you bring us around?"

Doc banked the plane in a wide circle. He didn't want the enemy to see or hear his plane, and he wasn't sure how good either sense worked at the distances he was trying to maintain over the winter wonderland.

"They're going into the canyon. It looks like they are landing." The Comic looked around. "I still don't see a place to land."

"I do." Doc circled again. "We'll have to climb down to catch up with them."

Doc aimed for a slope that looked reasonably clear. He brought the plane down on the slope, heading up to slow down the speed. He braked to a stop with the plane pointing up forty-five degrees. He taxied the plane to point down the slope for a fast getaway.

"We'll need an anchor in case the wheels slip." Doc hit the intercom. "Pattern Ghost, drop the cargo door."

"Will that hold the plane in place?" The Comic unstrapped and headed for the back of the plane.

"No." Doc made sure everything was ready for take off with the brakes engaged. The plane was more likely to slide down the slope but at least the wheels wouldn't help it.

Doc headed for the back. His thoughts were on an anchor and how to get down to where the soldiers planned to excavate.

Doc found the others gearing up. He went to a locker and secured ropes, spikes, and harnesses. Some of it would be used to climb down. Some could be used for his anchors. It depended on a great deal of luck and the pull of gravity.

Just because he had the plane tied down doesn't mean it wouldn't snap the ropes and plunge down the side of the mountain.

"We'll anchor the plane first." Doc parceled out the supplies. "Then we'll lower Pattern Ghost down to secure a line for the rest of us to climb down."

"Sounds easy." The Comic produced his mallet. "It can't be that easy."

"It never is." Doc went quietly to the lowered cargo door. "Be careful until we have the plane tied down."

The Comic jumped down from the plane, carrying the spikes with him. He found spots up the slope clear of the tail to drive the metal safety rods into the rock. Melting snow showed him where the Pattern Ghost stood.

"Hold on." The voice drifted above melting snow that ran away in streams of water.

"Thanks." The Comic started driving spikes into the ground with his mallet. "How does that work?"

"Something about vibrations." Pattern Ghost sounded like he shrugged. "I never figured that out."

"It's working." The Comic drove the last spike. "That's all that matters."

"Here's ropes." Tim dropped the ends at the Comic's feet. "We got the other ends tied to the plane."

"Let's tie these down." The Comic and Pattern Ghost ran the ropes through the rings at the top of the spikes. Knots secured the plane.

"Let's get ready to drop Pattern Ghost over the side." The Comic headed for the edge of the cliff.

"Let's tie the rope down first." Pattern Ghost left steps as he followed.

"That takes all the fun out of it." The Comic pointed to where he could vibrate snow away for an anchor.

"Don't worry about a harness over your suit." Doc worked out a noose to tie over Pattern Ghost's suit. "We'll drop you down, then lower everyone else down once you have the rope secured."

"Got it." Pattern Ghost turned his suit off to make tying the rope around him easier. Then he powered up again with a buzz. "I'll pull the rope in case of trouble."

Doc let the slack out of the rope as the end started down on its own. The Comic and Dr. Walkur watched the bottom of the canyon. They didn't know what they could do from the top of the gorge. The Comic's explosives wouldn't reach the bottom before they blew.

Pattern Ghost was on his own.

"Ghost Angel could help us." Tim shuffled his feet, holding his hat on his head.

"But would he?" Doc let out the rest of the rope, walking forward to let the strand slowly rest on the ground without rubbing.

"I think so." Tim shrugged. "Maybe."

"We'll hold him back for backup." Doc didn't mention the thought the Ghost Angel would take off and try to stop everyone on his own.

"After you, Haven." The Comic made a sweep of his arm.

"That's Dr. Walkur to you." Haven secured a harness and started down the wall.

"Mr. Daschle to you." Tim got in the line ahead of the Comic. "I like that."

"Don't push me, kid." The Comic shook his head. "I can still throw you over."

"Let's go." Doc Shadow grabbed Tim and started down the wall with bounding leaps. It happened so fast Tim didn't have time to scream before they touched down.

"Pattern Ghost went ahead." Haven pulled Tim to a niche for cover. "The blimp is tied down just ahead."

"One of us will have to secure it so we can block escape." Doc Shadow stepped out of the way for the Comic to descend. "The rest will have to try and stop the soldiers from securing the prize."

"Pattern Ghost is going to make sure that the crew is off." Haven held her pistol in hand. They had applied oil to it to keep the metal from freezing in the harsh cold.

"I'm here." The Comic landed at the end of the rope. "Which way do we go?"

"We hold here for a moment." Doc had his own pistol out. He had sleep gas loaded, with a clip of explosives to follow up.

"I can do that." The Comic spun his hammer in one hand.

"They split up." Pattern Ghost's voice appeared out of nowhere. "The Englishman, his butler, and the leader of the Germans went into a cave in the wall. They took a small force with them. The rest seem to be holding around the anchors for the blimp."

"I'll take Tim and the cave." Doc opened his coat and checked his vest. "You guys take the ground crew and the zeppelin."

"Give us the easy job." The Comic spun his hammer again.

[DusterBoy]

TURN THE PAGE! TURN THE PAGE! I CAN'T STAND THE TENSION! :D

You have a definite knack for building up and maintaining the suspense, csyphrett. Props to you :thumbup:.

[csyphrett]

It just works out like that because of the timer I use. I'm hoping to restart my webpage someday and host the whole thing there.
maybe use build a book for some of the other things I have written.

CES

[csyphrett]

Codename: V decided he had waited long enough. He went to the hatch leading from the gasbag to the basket underneath. It was time to get out and do something to save the operation.

V descended to the gondola. His greatcoat cast a large shadow in front of him as he walked the halls. He was surprised that most of the carrier seemed to be empty. Why would they leave the warmth of the balloon for the cold outside?

He needed to question someone for information.

The agent found a crew on the bridge, standing in the cold wind blowing through the broken window. They didn't expect him to be onboard. That gave him surprise. He planned to use it well.

Codename: V grabbed the man nearest the door and flung him into the wall. He brought his arm down against the back of his neck to slam the sailor's face into the wall. He pulled the man in front of him as the rest of the crew turned toward the commotion.

Bullets lanced across the small compartment. Smoke danced in the air. Then silence reigned.

Codename: V dumped the empty clips from his Brownings as he moved across the bridge. Four dead men stared at his scarfed face as he examined everything with sharp brown eyes. He had control of the balloon.

He had to clear the ground crew if he wanted to fly it out of Antarctica. They had control of the anchors below.

Codename: V went to the window and looked down. He noted melting spots of snow in a line toward the anchors. He frowned as he considered. Maybe he had underestimated Doc Shadow and his assistants.

That was something he rarely did.

The agent looked around one more time to get the lay of the land. He needed to get off the blimp, or cut the ropes. He decided to cut the ropes. That might be a distraction for Doc Shadow.

Codename: V went to the door. The anchor ropes were wrapped around stanchions inside the main door of the gondola. The agent pulled out his knife as he glided to the ropes. He wouldn't be able to get down to help them, but freeing the zeppelin might buy something for Doc Shadow.

After all he had arranged for the man of adventure to track this down. He might as well give aid to his agent.

Codename: V cut the ropes and let the ends fall out of the door. The zeppelin started to rise. He smiled behind his scarf. The men below stared up at the lifting balloon. He laughed as they started running around in circles and pointing.

Something exploded amidst the crewmen. Orange smoke covered the men as they tried to figure out what was going on. Unseen hands used a rifle as a club on nearby targets while they were distracted.

Codename: V went to the bridge. He had seized the blimp. He needed to be able to park it somewhere until he had to use it later.

He engaged the engines, lifting the zeppelin above any enemy fire. He turned and headed for the top of the canyon wall, holding his hat low. He wanted to have an escape means before coming back to deal with Tribolyte once and for all.

And dealing with his traitorous countryman would be a rare pleasure in his line of work.

The agent found an airplane tied down to a slope as the airship lifted above the canyon walls. Obviously this was Doc Shadow's aircraft. He looked for some place to land his own vehicle. That way there would be two vehicles for their escape from the South Pole.

V lashed the wheel so the zeppelin would turn in circles as he went back to search the lockers. He found ample rope and weights. He just needed to anchor them to the balloon and drop them to the ground. He could use that to get back down and join the others.

He secured the ropes to the door, tied the weights to the end of the ropes, and threw them overboard. The cubes sank in the snow as the lines pulled tight. The balloon circled around the base of an imaginary cone. He hurried back to the bridge and cut power. The zeppelin hung in place once the propellers stopped turning.

Codename: V returned to the door. He grabbed the ropes in his gloved hands and started down in a half-slide, half-fall to the ground. He noted that he had anchored the zeppelin across the gorge from the plane. He touched down, and took a breath before undertaking phase two.

The agent didn't have any standard climbing equipment. He had noted that the walls seemed to be made of ice and snow piled up into mountains. He didn't know what caused that. He also knew that he was looking at something strange for the landscape. Reports from the region had stated that rock had been near the surface of heights discovered on either side of this depression.

Codename: V pulled four sets of claws and straps from his coat. He joined the equipment together and put them on his boots and gloved hands. He took a moment to calm himself before slipping over the side. He started down the wall, digging handholds and footholds with his claws.

The agent touched ground as Haven Walkur clubbed the last man standing with a pistol. The Comic had a pile of bodies around him. Dark eyes didn't see Doc Shadow, or the boy.

"That didn't go as planned but at least they can't get away with the balloon now." The Comic headed for the cave carved into the canyon walls.

"That butler can make his own." Dr. Walkur matched his stride by taking two steps for every one of his. "We'll have to stop him if we want to prevent an escape."

Codename: V waited for them to vanish into the cave before following silently. He drew his own guns before stepping from gray sky to darkness. He wanted to be ready in case they had problems with the crew that might be inside the secret lair.

His thoughts wandered to what Tribolyte expected to find at the end of his treasure hunt. He couldn't think of anything but some source of power. That didn't bode well for the rest of the world.

The agent hung back as he followed the other intruders. Torches had been set up to light the way for the expedition and its pursuers. He held himself out of their welcoming circles to be an invisible shadow drifting along in the dark.

Gunfire cut across his thoughts. Screams beckoned him, but he forced himself to move even stealthier. He didn't want to run into something in the dark a bullet wouldn't stop.

Caution dictated that.

[Yansuf]

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.
The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.
Minor quibble, I love the story!

[csyphrett]

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.
The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.
Minor quibble, I love the story!

Thanks for the interest and the information, Yansuf.
CES

[BoloOfEarth]

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.
The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.
Minor quibble, I love the story!

Technically, a blimp can be (and often is) made of several gas bags within a coated fabric outer shell, so the outer wall of the craft may well be different from the outer wall of the gas bag(s). The Goodyear Blimp, for example, has two gas-bag ballonets (one forward, one aft) within a rubber-coated polyester fabric shell.

But you're right, blimps and zeppelins are two related, but different, things. And also right that, for the story, it's a minor quibble. Codename: V most likely wouldn't know the difference, and since that part is pretty much told from his perspective, it works fine.

Fantastic story, and I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment.

[csyphrett]

29


Doc Shadow moved like his namesake, pistol aimed ahead of him. He expected guards to try and stop him. He didn't plan to be stopped. Tim rode under one arm like a piece of luggage, holding his sunglasses in place on his face as he floated above the floor.

"Get ready to call Ghost Angel." Doc deposited Tim behind some boulders to provide him some cover. "Wait until I distract them. That way they'll be unprepared for his entrance."

"Got it." Tim hunkered down behind the rock screen. "Remember not to look him in the eye. He tends not to think about things like that when he gets going."

"Don't worry about me." Doc started down the tunnel. "I remember what happened up north."

Doc faded into the darkness, moving toward the crowd ahead of him. He noted how the cavern had resembled carved walls instead of a natural cave. He put that down as something to investigate when he wasn't battling for the fate of the world. He had a feeling that the unnaturalness of the place is why Tribolyte had been drawn so far south of civilization.

Doc paused when he heard voices ahead. He leaned against the wall, blending in with its bulk. He leveled the pistol. Movement told him guards had been stationed. They just couldn't see him as well as he could see them.

He fired his clip of sleep bullets into the room beyond. He didn't know how many he could hit, but surprise should allow him to thin the herd. Thumping against the ground told him he was at least partially successful.

Doc changed to explosive bullets as he ran up to the entrance of the main chamber. It was better to bury the treasure rather than let Tribolyte get it. Who knows how he would use any knowledge he gained from this encounter?

Doc would rather destroy whatever the threat was rather than allow it to be used on a helpless population.

And Doc had no illusions about whether or not the enemy would use the discovery. It was only a matter of time.

Doc edged closer. Some of the men had been quick enough to don gas masks. He estimated at least half had been floored by his invention. The awake soldiers leveled weapons his way. He took cover behind a vertical rectangle of rock as bullets burned his way.

Doc took a moment to scan for the triad that led this troop. They had vanished from the room. He ducked before he could figure out what had happened to them. The enemy fired in waves to keep him down.

He didn't want to kill them, but he had to get through to stop the Englishman and his butler.

"Cover your eyes if you want to live." The cold voice and cloud of fetid breath made Doc flinch down out of habit. Then Tim's attack dog had drifted by with burning sword drawn. One hand was already at the sunglasses on his fake face.

Men screamed as he passed. Some of them lived because they remembered the instructions they had been given about a man in black who killed with his eyes. They averted their eyes almost in the nick of time. They suffered but their heads didn't explode like the colleagues who panicked and fired at the spirit of vengeance with both eyes opened.

Ghost Angel floated to a door behind the main chamber. He didn't need to finish the survivors off. They would do that themselves given enough time. His goal was inside the smaller inner chamber.

He wanted to unleash his gaze on Tribolyte and his servant.

Doc Shadow left his cover and put the writhing survivors asleep with kicks to the head. Hopefully their masks would cushion the blows he was delivering. If things went well, he would haul them out and give them a chance to go home.

That was the best he could do at the moment.

Ghost Angel stabbed the blockage. His blade sank into the stone. Hands reached out of the stone floor, grabbing the block. They pulled the door straight down. It split on the top of the glowing sword as it went.

Ghost Angel stepped through the inner door. It was time for his own brand of vengeance.

"Stop him, Mister Cook." Tribolyte blanched at the nature of the intrusion. "I need time to figure out how to operate this device."

Doc Shadow moved to stand behind the wall next to Ghost Angel. He didn't like the sound of the roar that issued on the other side of the threshold. Cook had drawn up another dragon to deal with the dead man.

Doc plunged his forearm through Ghost Angel's back. He tried to ignore the cold turning his skin blue where he could see it. He concentrated on pulling the trigger of his pistol. Small explosions rocked the small chamber but he couldn't tell if he hit anything, or not. He hoped he had put the thing that belonged to the roar down before it got started.

Ghost Angel walked into the room, sword held high. A small smile flitted across his bitter face. Electrical sizzling flung small lightning around as he advanced.

Doc peeked over his shoulder, reloading his pistol with more gas bullets as he assessed the situation. Things were going great for his side for a change. He suspected he was being too optimistic.

The small inner chamber was round. A small altar stood in the middle. On top of the altar, a round ball sat in prongs like a pearl in a ring setting. Tribolyte stood next to the altar, hand raised. Glowing motes chased themselves around his hand. Mister Cook stood in front of Tribolyte, hand pouring blood from his palm. A small dinosaur stood next to him. Holes let Doc see through the dinosaur to the other side of the room.

He didn't see the Baron anywhere.

Doc decided he had to put Mr. Cook down to give Ghost Angel a chance at Tribolyte. The man's drawings could keep them stymied for as long as the Englishman needed to finish whatever he planned to do.

He took aim as the dinosaur pulled itself together. A flurry of bullets pushed him back. The Baron had taken cover behind a set of stone bricks forming shelving. He had cut loose when he had a clear shot at the man of adventure.

Doc took a moment to compose himself. He had lucked out the soldier hadn't a clear shot at him from his vantage point. His gas bullets meant he didn't have to hit the ambusher with a shot. He just needed to put one close to the enemy commander.

[csyphrett]

30




George Tribolyte didn't like the new developments that threatened his plan. He had counted on Doc Shadow to be trapped in the jungle. Yet here he was. Worse, he had brought the troublesome ghost with him.

Tribolyte drew his ire into a beam of light, casting it across the room. The ghost sliced across the lance with his sword. It drifted into the glowing blade, vanishing in an instant.

Mr. Cook finished his dinosaur as the thing in black kept advancing. He sent it after the swordsman. The drawings had proven effective against the spirit of vengeance the last time they had battled.

The Baron reloaded his weapon. He knew bullets wouldn't stop their most dangerous enemy. He had to be content with holding Doc Shadow in place. When Tribolyte and his servant had dealt with their immediate problem, they could concentrate their fury on the man of adventure.

Tribolyte turned to point his hand at the wall beyond the ghost. He hoped the drawing would distract the thing while he dealt with the bothersome doctor. He loosed a volley of fire on the wall. Stone covered metal ripped apart. Doc Shadow flew across the room beyond.

That should take care of that even if he hadn't been able to strike with his full power thanks to the wall he had punched a hole through with his mental power. Now he could concentrate on their more dangerous enemy.

Tribolyte waited as the swordsman spread his wings and sliced through the legs of the raptor. The magical creation fell over, unwinding where the blade had sliced the creative energy in two. He turned to run the butler through with a backhand stroke.

Tribolyte loosed another bolt of energy. It punched a hole through the ghost before he could block it with his sword. The wings burned away first as the spirit vanished.

That should take care of that.

"Mr. Cook." Tribolyte waved one cooling hand. "Please block the entrance until we're done."

"Yes, sir." The butler moved to the hole in the wall. He raised his hand. Bricks mortared themselves together in front of the opening. He didn't think it would last long against a determined assault, but it would buy a few seconds.

Tribolyte turned to face the orb. This was the treasure he sought. He just didn't know what it could do. He needed to pack it away first. Then he could take it home and examine it at his leisure.

The Baron wouldn't like it but he would have to live with it.

Tribolyte concentrated on the orb. He felt something working inside. Age and mental brittleness wrapped around the willingness to do things he touched with his mind. It waited for someone to use it.

He examined the mounting to see how things fitted together. He didn't want to have to take the prongs if he didn't have to do that.

Tribolyte found the clamps holding the orb in place. He undid them one by one. The ball came loose without a sound.

"Give me your pack, Baron." Tribolyte held out one hand while cradling the sphere against his body with the other.

The Baron handed over the empty backpack. He still held his pistol in one hand. He expected more trouble.

If Doc Shadow was here, his companions would be too.

Tribolyte put the prize in the pack. He pulled it on over his coat. The weight didn't feel as light as it should.

That was something else to worry about later when he was far away from the frozen desert.

"All right, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte turned to face the blocked exit. "We will probably encounter resistance. You should be ready to discourage that. It's time for us to return home."

"I don't see any problem." Mr. Cook flexed his hands in preparation of working his unique brand of magic.

"Get ready, Baron." Tribolyte gestured for the commander to join them. "You'll be watching our backs."

"I hope what you have is worth all the trouble we have gone through." The Baron held his pistol so it pointed where he looked.

"I think so." Tribolyte adjusted the straps on the pack. "I can feel things that belong away from Earth."

"What use is that?" The Baron indicated for the two others to lead the way.

"It gives us a hint of technology that will win the coming war for your country." Tribolyte nodded to his servant.

Mr. Cook rubbed his hand on the wall of lines. It vanished into his palm as he moved his arm like a giant eraser. The room beyond came into view.

"Be careful, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte stared at the room. The scattered bodies didn't bother him. What bothered him was that he couldn't see Doc Shadow. That bothered his senses, alerting him to danger.

Mr. Cook raised his hand. Hounds dropped to the floor. They turned wide noses this way and that. They barked at something out beyond where the chamber led to the tunnels and the airship.

"Trouble." Mr. Cook let the dogs course out in front. They would track whatever drew their interest and deal with it.

Tribolyte expanded his vision. He needed to see whatever he planned to shoot.

Glowing sparks marked a man in a suit standing in the corridor. A bubble of glass covered the man's head. He held a weird pistol in his hand. The hounds went right for him.

Tribolyte frowned because he didn't see Doc Shadow. Where was the man of adventure?

The pistol fired a wavy ribbon of fire at the dogs. The user became briefly visible as the beam turned one of the dogs into a cloud of blood ash.

Tribolyte raised his hand. He needed to remove this pest so they could pass into the passage. Their airship waited for their arrival. An invisible man couldn't stand in their way if they wanted to reach his estate in England.

An explosion of smoke covered his target in a screen. It reached out toward the three men. Mr. Cook caused a fan to burst from his hand. He caused the blades to spin to blow the yellow cloud away.

Bullets reached from the tunnel. That scattered Tribolyte's group. The Englishman stepped behind a column. He had been right.

Doc Shadow's friends were present like he surmised.

It was better to deal with them now than have them chase the tomb raiders all the way home.

The Baron returned fire. Tribolyte didn't think he knew where his enemies were. He just seemed to want to suppress them so his companions could do something.

Tribolyte planned to push through over their dead bodies.

[csyphrett]

31


"It looks like they have what they want." Dr. Walkur reloaded her pistols as she hid behind the cover provided by a dent in the wall. "How do we stop them?"

"Give me a second to think." The Comic checked the contents of his belt. "We have them pinned down, but without Ghost Angel, we are seriously outgunned."

"I say we seal them in." Pattern Ghost's voice drifted from the edge of the tunnel. "That will buy us time to think of something else."

"We run?" Tim held Doc Shadow's pistol in both hands as he hovered over the fallen man of adventure.

"We retreat for a better shot." The Comic dug into his belt. He pulled out several rainbow painted balls. "Here, Haven. Pull the pin and throw these. That will keep them from rushing the door. I'll take Doc."

"I'll close the room off with my electric pistol." Pattern Ghost turned the dial on the side of the device. "It'll take most of my power."

"Get ready to cover us, Tim." The Comic rolled the balls over to Dr. Walkur. She snatched them up and put them in her coat pocket. "We'll only have a second to make this work before they come down after us."

"I'm ready." Tim struggled to point the heavy pistol into the main chamber.

"Then let's go." The Comic rushed across the hall, and grabbed Doc Shadow in a fireman's carry. He started up the tunnel as he fast as he could run.

Haven pulled the balls out of her coat. She pulled the pins and chucked them into the main chamber. Tim stood to one side, firing the heavy automatic without trying to aim. As soon as they were both out ammo, they started after the Comic.

Pattern Ghost started backing away. He leveled his pistol at the roof of the tunnel and started waving the brushstroke of the beam back and forth. Explosions rocked the chamber. Then the ceiling started collapsing. He checked his dial as he ran from the falling rocks. He only had a few minutes left of charge.

He didn't think the collapse would stop their enemies any significant amount of time. He had already seen a supernatural display of power from both of the principals involved. The best they could hope for was to slow them down and try to get the orb away from them before they got away.

If the butler could make one set of balloons to carry them out of the jungle, there was nothing that said he couldn't do the exact same thing to carry the three survivors back to the waiting boat.

Pattern Ghost would do that instead of wondering where the airship had gone.

He looked at the retreating backs of his friends. He wondered what they were going to do next to stop those guys. He didn't think they had the power without Ghost Angel and he hadn't been able to slow them down.

"We set up our ambush over there." The Comic pointed. "Tim, I want you to stay with Doc until he wakes up. We'll put you on the other side of the gorge away from us. Pattern Ghost, take cover so you can shoot into the cave without being hit by return fire."

"Who made you the boss?" Tim glared up at the taller Comic.

"My fist." The Comic shook that at the boy. "Get moving."

Tim muttered his mantra as he tried to drag the much bigger Doc Shadow behind cover. Pattern Ghost helped him out as the Comic and Dr. Walkur took cover. He made sure that Tim was unseen from the cavern entrance before seeking his own hiding spot.

He had an idea that his invisible nature would make him the first target once the Englishman became aware of the minimal threat he posed. A couple more shots from his pistol would drain the battery. He might not have enough to collapse the cave.

He looked over at where the Comic and Dr. Walkur waited. They didn't seem ready to run. He couldn't either.

The Comic gave him a thumb's up except he was a little off target since he didn't know exactly where Pattern Ghost had hunkered down to wait.

Pattern Ghost pulled his pistol, waiting to gear it up. He didn't want the whine to give them away while they waited. Surprise was all they had if they wanted to win.

The hissing of air reached Pattern Ghost's ears. It looked the butler had devised something to move them along faster and carry them out of the depression before the vigilantes could even get a shot. He tensed, aiming the electric pistol.

They couldn't get away.

Pattern Ghost spotted something coming out of the tunnel. He fired, listening to the whine of the generator and hum-crack of the pistol. The wavy beam reached out with its deadly grip. He groaned when he realized he had missed all of his targets.

Dr. Walkur and Comic tried to stop the express plane headed into the atmosphere on bird wings but bullets and clown toys didn't do anything but punch holes in the cartoon creature. They stood up as the giant bird headed straight up.

"That's rotten." The Comic shaded his eyes as he watched the bird flap for the clouds. "Looks like we're chasing them again."

"I think we might have a problem." Dr. Walkur also looked up after the escaping masterminds. "What's that glow?"

"Whatever it is, it's headed straight for us." The Comic looked around. "Let's get out of here."

Pattern Ghost became visible as his suit ran out of power. He struggled through the snow after his faster companions. Maybe he hadn't missed after all.

The Comic grabbed Doc Shadow and slung him on a shoulder as he ran. He didn't look up. He looked ahead and concentrated on making the most speed that he could.

Falling balls of fire could only mean trouble.

"Run, Tim." Dr. Walkur had an arm wrapped around the smaller boy, half-dragging him behind her.

Pattern Ghost took a moment to watch the falling object. It headed right for the cavern. He had no doubt it was the orb that had been the prize. He had struck that instead of the giant bird. He wondered how big the explosion would be when it hit.

He decided he didn't want to know.

"Over here." A figure in a black coat and hat waved them toward a gully. "There's no more time."

The band dove into the ditch, covering their heads with their hands. A freight train went by in a cloud of snow and blazing light. Rain fell on the heroes as they dug themselves out of the piles of snow on top of them.

"We're alive." The Comic jumped up, cheering at the top of his voice. "We're alive!"

"Not for long." The man in the black coat brushed snow off his shoulders.

[csyphrett]

Mad George Tribolyte gritted his teeth against the pain running up and down his back. Smoke and burning flesh still tickled his nose. The Baron held his arm to steady him. That prevented his falling off Mr. Cook's bird to his death.

He didn't know what had happened. The orb had caught fire as they made their escape. The flaming aura had started through his coat to his shirt and then flesh. He threw the burning backpack away as soon as he got his arms out of the straps.

The explosion after it hit the ground told him that throwing it away had saved his life.

It also meant he had failed in the eleventh hour. He could not foresee the alliance he had built on the basis of this deal still carrying on. Too many men and resources had been lost.

At least he could be satisfied that Doc Shadow had been eliminated as a threat by the destruction below.

He would have to settle for that instead of plundering the secrets of a lost civilization and ruling the world through proxies.

It was a poor second prize.

"Please land, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte found it hard to talk. "I would like you to look at my back."

"Hold on." Mr. Cook pointed the bird to a clear spot away from the collapsed area behind them. He merely looked that way without emotion. He helped the Baron and Tribolyte down after sliding off the feathered back himself.

Tribolyte stood. The cold air on his back stung but it seemed to be helping to keep the swelling down some. He endured a quiet conversation between the Baron and his butler.

"You'll live." Mr. Cook seemed grim. "I'll put something on that back, but you're lucky to be able to move."

"Thank you." George nodded. "We'll have to turn the Baron over to his ship before we try to get to England."

"We will make the coast in a few hours." Mr. Cook looked at his watch. "Your wrapping will keep until we get there."

"Do your best." Tribolyte smiled as the air blowing on his back cooled his skin that much faster.

"Will you be able to make it that far?" The Baron grabbed one arm. He waited for Mr. Cook to grab the other arm to help out.

"I'll have to if we want to make it back to the ship." Tribolyte swung a leg over the bird's back He felt almost dead.

Mr. Cook extruded a long bandage that wrapped around Tribolyte's body. He waited for the drawing to settle before he climbed back up into position. The Baron was right there. One of his hands held Tribolyte steady.

The bird took flight, bearing toward the bay where they had landed. The Baron looked around. The airship had been destroyed in the blast from the exploding orb. That would have to go on his report.

He wondered what his superiors would say about this debacle. He doubted well done would be on their lips.

The ship hove into view after the landscape had rendered their eyes glassy at the monotony. The Baron suppressed the pleasure in seeing it. He didn't want to admit that he had expected to see it gone.

Then he saw that most of it was gone.

He should have seen that coming.

Men stood around fires with fuel from the destroyed ship. Life boats were beached on the ice. Tents from bed sheets were hung up.

"So much for sailing off into the sunset." Tribolyte's words echoed the Baron's thoughts. "We'll have to think of something before we freeze to death."

"We can build a boat from the wreckage." Mr. Cook didn't sound hopeful. "I think I can drag it to South America."

"How much time will that take?" The Baron checked his own watch. That at least was in one piece.

"Don't worry." Tribolyte smiled through his pain. "I'll get the remainder of your men back to civilization. It's the least I can do."

"How do you plan to do that?" The Baron didn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"We'll hold a seance." Tribolyte smiled. "Take us down, Mr. Cook. We'll need to get the crew together."

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Mr. Cook circled high overhead before directing the bird to descend on his boss's nod.

The men went for firearms, but relaxed when they saw the Baron. He slowly dropped to the ground. He knew that nervous men tended to shoot first, then ask questions.

"Who's the ranking officer?" The Baron spoke to the nearest man. He might as well get the crew working for him.

"The bosun survived, sir." The sailor pointed across the camp. "He's organizing the salvaged supplies."

"Please gather the men at the point nearest the wreck." Tribolyte staggered forward. "Spread the word. Tell them to bring everything they can carry and might need for a voyage."

The sailor looked at the Baron. The officer nodded. The man hurried away, spreading the message to everyone he passed. The survivors started gathering what they could from the white beach. They began arriving to the spot indicated as Tribolyte sat down to look at the broken hull. He looked out over the sea and thought.

"They are gathering." The Baron looked at the crowd. "What are you planning to do?"

"I plan to take them to somewhere they can get home from with minimal effort." Tribolyte kept his gaze focused on the sea. He found it helpful to clearing his mind. "When everyone is accounted for, let me know and we'll begin."

The Baron spotted the bosun. He walked over. If anyone knew how many men had lived, it would be him.

The brief discussion and head count that followed assured the Baron everyone was there. Piles of supplies were arranged around the men as they gathered in a clump. They watched the Englishmen with a mix of hate, fear, and suspicion.

"Everyone is here." The Baron looked at the crowd.

"Then let's begin." Tribolyte turned to face the crowd. He would need their cooperation for what he planned to do.

[csyphrett]

33

Dr. Haven Walkur made sure the others were okay after the shock they had received. For the most part, they seemed only badly bruised from the shockwave blasting through the canyon. They were alive but buried in a bubble under snow.

She couldn't imagine how that had happened but they had been lucky.

"I imagine they think we're dead." The man in the scarf looked around, probing the darkness with a light. "We have to get out of here."

"I'm open to suggestions." Dr. Walkur played her own light around, examining the wall of ice. "We need to at least get a hole so we can have breathable oxygen."

"I'm out." Pattern Ghost wasn't invisible. On the other hand, in the dark, he was still unseen.

"So am I." The Comic had used everything in his utility belt. He needed to devise a backup to carry with him. Maybe he could use something like Doc Shadow's vest.

He had to survive first.

"Doc still has whatever is in his vest." Tim called from where Doc had been half buried. "Only I don't think it's labeled."

The man in the scarf crossed the small space. His light dipped with him as he opened the various padded pouches on the vest. He pulled out several magazines and examined the bullets under the beam.

"This might be what we need." His voice sounded on the verge of laughter to Haven. She hoped he wasn't losing his mind from the close confines. She had seen that happen several times. She had used what was at hand to calm the afflicted people down.

Nothing calmed a hysterical person faster than a head clout.

"Do you actually know what you're doing?" Haven shone her light on the shadow man. Only the intense paleness of his eyes reflected back.

"I have been trained to survive." The shadow man went to a wall. He dug into the wall with bullets from the magazine. "I admit this is a new situation for me, but I plan to be home as soon as I can."

"Sounds good to me." The Comic started working on a trench. "Give me some light, Doc. We'll need cover if he's doing what I think he's doing."

Pattern Ghost went over to where Tim struggled to uncover the rest of Doc Shadow. They freed him from the ice and dragged him out of the way. The two of them refrained from remarking on his blue color.

That couldn't be good.

"We'll need to blow a hole slowly to cut our way out of the snow." The shadow man stepped back as the others piled ice up between their position and the wall. "We'll need to check if we have transportation. It's a long walk back to the coast."

"Let's get out of here first." The Comic checked to make sure everyone was under cover. "Then we can think about getting food and finding a boat."

The shadow man fired one shot where he had dug the first bullet. The impact set the string off in rapid succession. The wall of ice caught fire. Water turned to steam in an instant. The side of the bubble fell down on that side.

The adventurers waited out the rumble of shifting death. The cold froze the ice back in place as the fires burned into the ground. The burning shells cleared an area around them, boiling the water away.

"Let's get Doc next to the fire." Haven grabbed an arm. "We need to get him warm if we want to keep him alive."

Comic and Pattern Ghost took the man of adventure's weight and carried him across the small space. They plunked him down next to the burning blaze. The blue flame danced like water.

"I'm going to set off another blast." The shadow man moved to the other side of the fire. "Maybe that will be enough to punch a bigger hole out."

"I hope so." The Comic put his hands over the fires. Steam ran off his gloves. "It's getting hard to breathe in here."

"We might not be able to dig out." Haven wondered if Doc would wake up. She didn't expect him to be knocked for a loop like this.

"We'll get out." The Comic stood. "You can bet on that."

Haven sat in the dimming light of the blaze. Her expression blurred to a small amount of disbelief. She had been in the field, gotten out of bad scrapes, but she couldn't remember one worse than the current one.

Where did these mystery men get their boundless optimism?

The swirl of his great coat said the shadow man was ready to fire again. He stepped back. The others hunkered down in case of blowback, but otherwise remained in place. Two blazes would burn up the air that much faster but the falling snow might uncover an exit for them.

The second burst left a line of flame building a tunnel as it burned through the white wall. It sank to the ground as an arch formed out of the melting ice. The door collapsed as the walls on either side fell into the clear zone. Something like a whistle keened at the trapped heroes.

"We have an opening." Haven stood up. "Fresh air."

The scarved stranger expanded the hole he had made by cutting off part of his scarf and dipping it in the blue fire left from his effort. He pressed the blaze against the ice with a simple throw before the flame reached his hand. That burned away enough of a hole to allow him to jump up and grab the sides. He pulled himself out of the tomb in an instant.

Haven nodded as Doc started talking to himself. He might be coming around after all. That was good news.

"It looks like I was right again." The Comic's smiling mask matched his tone.

"It's not seemly to gloat." Haven watched Doc Shadow. If he came to, that would make things easier for them.

"Let's get out of here." Tim rushed to the opening. "I don't want this thing falling down on me."

"Not so fast, kid." The Comic gestured for Pattern Ghost to grab one side of Doc Shadow so they could carry him. "Let the new guy take a look around before we go out there."

"He's right, Tim." Haven went to the opening. She drew one pistol and put it in a coat pocket. She jumped up and pulled herself out. The outside looked abandoned and desolate.

"They got away." The shadow man's cold voice drifted from nowhere. "Let's see if we can find some means to get to civilization."

[BoloOfEarth]

Great stuff, keep it coming!

[DusterBoy]

We await the next thrilling installment with bated breath. Will our daring heroes make it back to civilization and defeat the bad guys? Stay tuned to find out, true believers!

Excelsior! :)

[csyphrett]

I'm working on the soldiers getting off the continent right now.
CES

[csyphrett]

34
Mad George Tribolyte looked at the wreckage of the supply boat. He should have expected something like this from the great Doctor Algernon Shadow.

It was a good thing the man of adventure was safely dead and out of the way.

Tribolyte turned from his contemplation of the wreck. The anxious crew looked at him like a devil among them. They were right about that.

"Gentlemen." Tribolyte's voice carried across the icy beach. The water seemed to blend in with a natural harmony. "I want you to think about your boat. I want you to hold that in your mind. I want you to concentrate on how your boat used to look before it sank."

The men sent out static images. He saw them on the ether. They weren't good enough to use. He needed for them to focus so he could use their concentration.

"I need you to really concentrate." Tribolyte didn't raise his voice. He didn't want to shake their confidence any further. "I want you to think about your ship as if you were still on board."

The mental images he reviewed seemed more consistent. They didn't match up altogether, but he didn't need them to do that. He just needed them to be close enough to use.

Tribolyte plucked each image from the minds of the sailors. He fitted the different pictures into a coherent collage of a ship that slightly resembled the one that had picked him up in South America. He then added his own energy to the picture.

A mist floated over the ocean. It settled on the water and called in a bell voice that shook the mind. It called three times. Each call made the sailors doubt what he was doing just a little more. If they gave up, the spell would fail.

"Keep thinking about your ship." Tribolyte didn't raise his voice. He didn't want to scare them more.

Scraps of disturbed air and mist wrapped around the upended icebreaker. Things made the water splash up in small geysers. The little pieces seized the ruptured hull and began adding to its bulk like a reef collecting more to add to itself.

Tribolyte smiled. This was exactly how things should go. All he needed was a little more concentration from the crew.

The ship started lifting out of the water as the ocean flowed from the giant bite in the hull. The steel skin glimmered as things came into existence and affixed themselves to the metal. The ship didn't look like it had, but as long as it sailed, that was all that mattered.

Naturally Tribolyte didn't tell the crew the price for their transportation. After all, he wasn't going to pay it. That would be on the luckless sailors.

He doubted they would under the explanation anyway. So why get into it?

The ship made little touches to itself as the mist slowly burned away. It hurt the eyes, but there was no doubt it was ready to sail. All they had to do was board it and get under way.

"I want you to think about a bridge to the ship." Tribolyte smiled. "Steps will be needed from the looks of things. Concentrate on that."

The ground extended from the shore in a set of pilings, then square slabs, until it reached the side of the strange looking ship. Steps started up from the end of the new dock toward the side railing on the boat.

"Gather up your belongings and supplies." Tribolyte waved at the men. "We're going aboard."

Soon enough, they would know the price they had been duped into paying for transportation.

Tribolyte urged the men forward with a wave of his hands. They gathered their supplies and headed along the sea blue dock. Silence reigned as they moved.

Some subliminal understanding might already be dawning, but he doubted any of them knew what had been taken away from them.

And he wasn't going to tell them.

Tribolyte, Mr. Cook, and the Baron walked at the end of the scruffy crowd. The crew needed to get the ship ready to sail. Mr. Cook had no part in the planning process. Tribolyte and the Baron contemplated their failure in silence.

They had traveled around the world, seized the prize, and been beaten in the space of a week. What else could go wrong?

Tribolyte turned his thoughts from defeat. Killing Doc Shadow more than made up for losing his quest. That at least had worked out well enough.

"What now?" The Baron had not cast aside the recent defeat. "I'm going back empty handed."

"At least you have a country to go back to." Tribolyte looked ahead at his future. "I'm afraid England has already seized my mansion and put me on a list. Too bad. I had such plans."

They started up the stairs to the boat's top deck.

[DusterBoy]

And no doubt what will happen to those poor, luckless sailors will be described in detail :(. I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary. :thumbdown

[Yansuf]

And no doubt what will happen to those poor, luckless sailors will be described in detail :(. I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary. :thumbdown

You're just getting that now?

[csyphrett]

35

The Comic looked around the wasteland. He shook his masked head. He only had one question.

"How do we get back home?"

"We need to get Doc back on his feet." Tim straightened his black hat. "We can't carry him all the way back to the ocean."

"Stay here." The new member of their party headed back to where the temple had blown to smithereens. "I'll see if your plane, or the zeppelin, survived the impact."

"We need a name," Dr. Walkur called after him.

"My name is Smith." The man in black donned claws for shoes and gloved hands. He used them to negotiate the rubble that had filled the canyon after the strike.

"My name is Foxie Loxie." The Comic's mocking tone didn't carry. "Let's see what we can do about Doc."

The four gathered around the man of adventure. Haven checked his eyes, noting the way the pupils moved. His skin still had a blue tinge. Haven took some of the cleanest snow and let it melt in her hand. The water slid off his face in small beads.

That seemed unusual to the archaeologist. She bent to get a closer look. A hand stopped her.

"I'm awake." Doc sat up, taking his hand off her shoulder. He brushed his face with the back of his gloved hand. "What happened?"

"Pattern Ghost blew up the mountain." The Comic decided the bad news had to take priority. "We also picked up a tagalong."

"All right." Doc got to his feet. He looked around. "This could be a problem."

"This is a disaster." Tim and The Comic looked at each other.

"Jinx." The Comic pointed at the boy.

"Where is our tagalong?" Doc raised one hand to shade his eyes.

"He went looking for the plane." Haven pointed the direction out. "He said his name was Smith."

"They all do." Doc frowned. "I doubt the plane survived intact. We might be able to scrounge something if we're lucky."

"They all say their name is Smith?" The Comic scratched the back of his head.

"Government agents." Doc started off. "It's the most common thing used."

"I can't believe you didn't know that." Tim rushed off after Doc. He blew a raspberry at the Comic as he went.

"I can't either." Haven walked after the pair.

"Don't look at me." Pattern Ghost struggled forward in his powerless suit. "It's the first time I ever heard of it."

The Comic glared at the group staggering away from him. Then he smiled under his mask. He laughed softly.

"I thought I was the only comic." The Comic headed after his new friends.

The five of them looked at the heap of snow and stone. A figure in black stood in the distance. He seemed to blend in as a shadow on the landscape. Then he moved, letting them know he was the living person they had talked to earlier.

Smith started back to where they stood. He picked his way along.

"I found the plane." Smith held his hat down low. "I don't think it will of any use to us."

"Let me see." Doc looked around. "We can't stay here. We'll freeze to death before we make it anywhere on foot."

Doc led the group back the way Smith had walked. He moved with a sure-footedness that soon left the others behind. He paused when he found the plane. He rubbed his chin in thought.

They weren't going to fly out.

"What do you think, Doc?" Tim blanched when saw the one wing sticking out of the ground.

"We need to see if any of the equipment survived." Doc started checking his vest. "Then we need to see what we can use out of this mess."

"Do you really think we can get out of this?" The Comic gestured around them. "How are you going to do it?"

"A little thinking, a lot of muscle, and a pinch of luck." Doc's face almost broke a smile. "I need to look at things before I can say one way, or the other."

"How can we assist you, Doctor Shadow?" Smith's shadow stretched under the gray sky almost on its own volition.

"Give me some room to move." Doc looked around. "See if you can build some shelter from the wind. That will protect us while we work."

"Like igloos?" Haven looked around for a likely spot. "We can create a spot to build a wall around."

"Exactly." Doc pulled a rod and wide blade from his vest and screwed them together. He started digging.

"We need to dig a hole in the snow and ice." Haven marked her spot. "We'll need to put the rubble from the hole around us in layers. We don't have a way to put a roof on yet, but walls will keep the wind off."

"We don't have anything to dig with." Tim looked at the archaeologist. "How are we supposed to do this?"

"Hands, Timmy." The Comic waved his own in the boy's face. "Hands."

Doc dug down to the buried hull of the plane. Gas was on the air. He didn't know how much had spilt on the ice. Hopefully there was enough left to be useful. He needed that much luck.

He also needed an alternate if there wasn't any gas left.

If the others could build something to keep the wind off, it might be enough to buy them some time. He wasn't sure. He certainly didn't plan to let them die while he was around.

Never give up was the Shadow motto after all.

Doc found the hull of the plane after a few minutes of effort. He worked to uncover the door. He opened the door when he had the ice cleared away from the door. He pushed inside.

Doc checked the supplies. Some of it was missing. He surmised it had been scattered by the blast wave that had rearranged the landscape. Still food and tools were present, if scattered across the floor.

The food would keep them alive for at least two days. That's how long they had to build some form of transportation and get back to civilization.

Doc looked around one more time. He had an idea of what they could do. All he needed was time.

They could run out of food and starve if he couldn't make his idea work.

[csyphrett]

Every villain has to have a method of operation that suits them.

CES

[bubba smith]

in re chapter35 couldn't tim have summoned ghost angel to help?

[death tribble]

And no doubt what will happen to those poor, luckless sailors will be described in detail :(. I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary. :thumbdown


You're just getting that now?

Yeah I don't have a problem with this at all.
Besides they are Germans........

[csyphrett]

in re chapter35 couldn't tim have summoned ghost angel to help?

Ghost Angel has a hole in his chest and was banished. While a good mook buster, he has problems against someone who can match up with him.
CES

[csyphrett]

36

The little group excavated the wreckage. They used their quarrying to create a wall around the broken hull of the plane. That was enough to give them a respite from the wind. The work warmed them inside their clothes.

Doc Shadow spent his time taking the plane apart with explosive paste he had designed. There was no way he could get something together that would fly. He needed some other form of transportation.

It was too bad the zeppelin had been ripped away from its mooring by the blast. Anything might have happened, but he thought the explosion had ripped the bag apart as soon as it touched the skin of the gas bag.

He certainly wasn't going to hunt for it with what he had left.

Doc looked at what he had salvaged and reshaped with his cutting blasts. He formed a checklist in his mind. He had about half of what he needed. He would have to improvise the rest.

He didn't like that at all.

Luckily no one was hungry yet. Travel time would eat their supplies more than anything else.

Doc found the others taking a break. They had availed themselves of some of the water that lay around them. All they needed was a fire and the picture of a calm camp-out would be complete.

"I'll need some help." Doc enumerated their skills in his mind. He might have the perfect set of helpers for this. "We're going to build a sled. I'm hoping to salvage some of the gas and an engine to push us along. I don't know yet. I need help getting the hull together in one piece on the pontoons."

The legs had snapped off just like the wings. He found the cigars without their supports a little distance away from the main body of the wreck.

"Have you got a torch?" Pattern Ghost looked uncomfortable. "I can do some welding."

"Haven and I will help you out." The Comic finished his water before lowering the mask back over his chin. "How hard can it be?"

"I need to get the fuel and engine set while you're doing that." Doc nodded. "Tim, we'll need a line down the slope. I want you to tie off to a spike and lay out a strip."

"I'll help him with that, Doctor Shadow." The scarfed man seemed to blend in to the white seeming to be a shadow without a source.

"We don't need anything overlong." Doc paused to calculate. "We need enough to give us an indicator of direction when we get underway. I plan to be moving as soon as possible, night or day."

"The bay the Germans used is that way." The scarfed man pointed. "I think that way would be our best bet of catching up to them."

"We'll do what we can." Doc nodded before he started on his own job.

"Let's get started." The man in black took some rope from their gathered supplies and spikes. "I hope the doctor's idea works."

"I expect we'll know soon enough." The Comic stretched. "Show us this welding skill you have, Pee Gee."

The group worked for hours to construct their escape vehicle from the ashes of their plane. Smith and Tim laid out two lines like a big road to show where to pilot their sled when it got going. Pattern Ghost, the Comic, and Dr. Walkur propped up one side of the boat shaped bow. They slid a pontoon in place and welded it to the belly. Then they did the other side.

The burden had been lightened by the removal of the roof, doors, remains of wings.

Doc Shadow started with the fuel tanks. He found one empty, the other cracked. The cracked tank had some fuel in it. He didn't think that would be enough to get them halfway to where they needed to go.

He was going to have to improvise something for propulsion.

Doc searched the sorted wreckage. He found a bent pole. He straightened it out with his gloved hands. He spotted another one. He rigged up a cross from the two pieces.

Now he needed sails.

"We're done, Doctor." The man and boy in black joined Doc as he looked through their meager supplies. "What now?"

"We need to make a sail." Doc thought he saw something he could use. "Take this mast and have Pattern Ghost weld it the floor when he's done with the pontoons."

"So we're going to have a miraculous escape." Smith grabbed the heavy end of the cross. "Grab the other end, Tim. Let's get this done."

"I'm right with you." Tim grabbed the base in both hands. "I can't reach Ghost Angel. I hope he shows up soon."

"We can't count on him to rescue us, my boy." Smith started walking. "We have to fend for ourselves until he does present himself."

"I have never seen him hurt before this case, and he's been hurt bad enough to ignore the call already." Tim struggled after the tall agent. "I'm worried."

Doc pulled blankets designed to keep people warm in case of crashing in the wilderness out of a crash kit. He found a needle and thread in the first aid kit. He started sewing the blankets together. Hopefully that would be good enough to get them going.

He needed a rudder for steering.

Doc carried the woolen sail over to where the rest of the group struggled to get the mast in place. Pattern Ghost stood on deck and welded while the rest held the pole in place.

"We're going to have to use this for power." Doc handed the sail over when they were done. "Hopefully, we'll have the wind behind us all the way back to the coast."

"You're not asking for much." The Comic shook his head.

[csyphrett]

37


Mad George Tribolyte stood on the bridge of his new ship. The crew went about their tasks mechanically. He expected that. Self motivation was no longer their concern.

"We'll be in port in a few days." The captain's face had sunken since they had set sail. Burning light issued from his eyes.

"Very good." Tribolyte waved his hand. "We have to put the Baron ashore, and then set sail for some destination that gives us access to people without anyone knowing who we are."

"I'm sure Africa is quite nice this time of year." The Captain stared out to sea.

"I'm sure." Tribolyte walked toward the exit. "I'll leave the destination up to you. Just remember to avoid any British colony."

"Understood." The Captain didn't watch him go.

Tribolyte headed down to the deck. His crew wandered around, steering clear of him as he walked to the bow. A few days was nothing, but he would like to rid himself of the Baron.

The man wanted to know when the crew was going to return to normal. Loyalty was apparently his strong point.

Tribolyte certainly wasn't going to tell him never. That would cause too many problems for the small amount of sailing time they would be together.

The magician might have to remain on the Reich's good side just in case they won the forthcoming war. Mages would be hunted as enemies if they didn't work for the Socialists. He had already seen that.

And a dictatorship would make it easy for him to rise to an advisor rank if he could maneuver things his way.

Tribolyte concentrated on the water in front of the boat. He felt it with his mind. He found a current pushing the vast blue. He concentrated more, drawing the current to the surface. He locked the ship to it as best he could.

That should speed things up some.

Tribolyte headed back to the bridge. The deck swayed as the ship sped up as he wanted. They should be arriving in Argentina in a few hours instead of a few days. He would ask the Baron to disembark, then sail away into the unknown.

Tribolyte didn't favor a roaming existence on a Flying Dutchman. He enjoyed his estate in England. He had built it with blackmail and death. Now he could never go back. The Crown would want to hang him for his treason. They would get an expert to help them seal his domicile off.

He had known that the moment he had stumbled upon the disguised agent on the zeppelin.

Tribolyte entered the bridge. The Captain didn't turn his head to look at him. He stared at the line of travel implacably.

"Our speed has unexpectedly increased." The Captain nodded to the navigator. "We are getting a new arrival time right now."

"I'm going to my cabin." Tribolyte smiled. It had been the Captain's cabin first. "Send for me when we reach sight of land."

"What about the Baron?" The Captain pointed to a lone figure watching the crew move around on the deck. He was a fly at the distance between them.

"Give him our estimated arrival time if you have it when he asks." Tribolyte turned to go. "Allow him to report in with the radio if he hasn't done so. Tell him nothing else."

The Captain barely nodded acknowledgment of his orders.

You could bind a man to his ship but you couldn't make him like you.

Tribolyte found his cabin. It was bare of anything he associated with a living room. He would put Mr. Cook on finding furniture to use. A comfortable chair would do wonders for his spellcasting.

Mr. Cook would be able to find something. He always did.

Tribolyte sat down in the middle of the cabin. He concentrated. The room sealed itself from any outside influences. He needed time to think and plan for the future. He needed this alone time to recharge from the ashes of defeat.

He needed to push aside thoughts of revenge if he wanted to continue. The anger was bad for his mental processes.

He would remember his enemies. If he encountered them again, he planned to kill them. But he wasn't going to chase them. That would interfere in any other plans he might make to pursue his goals.

And accumulating secular power to lord it over the peons was worth a little time and patience.

The relic would have helped his quest. He was sure of that. He had needed more time with it. He might have made it a fantastic power source. And one bolt of lightning had changed that in an instant.

He pushed aside the bitterness. He had still learned some things from it. He was sure his knowledge would prove useful at some later time. At least his enemies had no idea what the thing had contained.

It would be years before Earth came close to the technology inside that orb.

Words burned into the wall across from where he sat. He planned to have his chair sit where he could look at those words. They would remind him of what had been denied him. He wouldn't hunt the people represented, but if their paths crossed in the future, he would not give them quarter.

A knock on the door trembled through his defenses. He looked up. One of the crew stood outside in the hall.

"Land has been sighted." The crewman leaned against the door to convey his message better.

"I'm on my way." Tribolyte looked at his watch. He had daydreamed the hours away.

The magician returned to the bow of the ship. He concentrated on the current, cutting loose from it. The ship immediately began to slow. They would lower the Baron over the side and head back to sea.

He surmised the German commander would not be happy about that.

[csyphrett]

38

Doc Shadow worked the rudder as the boat slid to a halt on the beach. It had been a rocky trip across the vast expanse. They were almost out of food. Their patience with each other was low.

Now they had rows of dead men stretched out in front of them.

"What happened here?" The Comic jumped from the boat. His mallet was in his hands.

Dr. Walkur and Pattern Ghost climbed out a little slower. They walked over to the closest bodies. Haven toed one on its side to look underneath.

"No blood." She let the body drop to the ground. "No signs of violence. It's like they laid down and died."

"Maybe not laid." Pattern Ghost demonstrated what he meant before getting back to his feet. "More like they dropped where they stood."

"Where is the boat?" Tim pointed at the empty ocean. "Don't tell me they fixed it after what happened."

Doc Shadow and Codename: V looked at the scene silently. Doc helped Tim over the side before he dropped to the ground himself. They had been traveling by sled overnight. It felt good to walk around.

Doc felt one of the bodies with an ungloved finger. He shook his head.

"It's impossible to say when these men died without an autopsy, but it looks like natural causes like a stroke, or heart attack. We don't have a way to check their blood for poison, but I am sure we wouldn't find any toxin in their blood." Doc looked out to sea. "I'm sure the Englishman did this based on what I see. I doubt he would use something so mundane as poison."

"Where did they go?" The Comic followed his gaze. "Pattern Ghost blew up their boat real good."

"They set sail somehow." Doc pointed to a set of tracks. "Only three men walked away from this. One of them was the Englishman."

"So we're stuck here." Tim looked around. "I don't want to be stuck here."

"Join the crowd." The Comic put his mallet away. "How do we get out of this?"

"We have to make sure the sled is seaworthy, then we'll set sail." Doc looked the beach over. "We'll have to fish for our dinners while we head for South America."

"We have some kind of supplies to help us." Codename: V walked over to where some boxes had been left behind a hummock when the ship had departed. He read the labels. He opened the top box to find dried meat and crackers. "It's not a lot, but it should see us to civilization if we can grab some fish on the way."

"We still lost." The Comic rubbed his exposed ears. "The bad guys got away. We can't chase them, and if we don't catch anything, we could still die of starvation or thirst."

"We can still get to somewhere that'll help us." Haven rubbed her own face. It felt frozen.

"We won." Doc looked around for anything else that could help them. "We just have to make sure we survive to enjoy it."

"How do you figure that?" The Comic's mask hid his frown as well as protected his face from the cold wind.

"Tribolyte didn't get what he wanted." Codename: V held his hat down with one hand. "We might have saved the world."

"That makes me feel less frozen." The Comic hopped up and down.

A hole opened in the ground. A gloved hand struck in the air. A man in a suit followed the hand. Cold eyes looked at the bedraggled adventurers.

"It's about time." Tim rushed over. "I have been calling and calling."

"I had to fix the hole in my chest." Ghost Angel barely smiled, but he did smile.

"We're in a pickle." Tim fixed his hat. "We need to get back to civilization before we croak. Can you help us?"

"I know of a way." Ghost Angel folded his arms together. "It will get you back. Did Tribolyte succeed?"

"Pattern Ghost blew up his relic." The Comic made a gun out of his hand. "He almost blew us up too."

"Get back in your boat." Ghost Angel pointed at the sled. "Close your eyes and hold on tight. This will take a few minutes. Remember to keep your eyes closed at all times. Don't let the sounds fool you into opening your eyes."

"We'll get blindfolds." Doc produced a knife. He started cutting strips of cloth out of the material. "We'll make sure so we don't have an accident."

"What happens if we do open our eyes?" Haven took her strip of cloth with the tip of her finger.

"You'll die." Ghost Angel waited for them to get back in the sleigh, secure themselves, and put on the blindfolds.

"Everyone ready?" Ghost Angel produced his sword. "Remember to keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times."

Ghost Angel split the frozen ground under the sled with one slice of his sword. Hot wind blew straight up from the fissure as they fell into the crack.

"Yee-haw!" Tim exclaimed as the former plane fell.

"No need to shout." The Comic gripped his side of the mast that much more.

The air filled with cries and wailing. A call for water went up as the sled roared along some invisible tracks. Some offered secrets, the location of hidden treasures, a cure for the evils of mankind.

"Don't listen." Doc's voice crashed over the sled. "They want to trap us here with them. Just look at the bottom of the sled and think of something else."

"Like what?" The Comic thought he heard the voice of Morris Peterman. He certainly hoped not. Morris had been filled full of lead during a police raid.

"What is your town like?" Doc mentally kicked himself. He should cited something more personal. "What do you have to live for?"

"Getting off this roller coaster would be nice." The Comic shuddered as the hot reek of sulfur washed over him.

A loud splash of water preceded a small shower for the group. Warmth made their garments hang on their bodies. Doc took his coat off as he sniffed the air.

"You can take the blindfolds off." Ghost Angel sounded loud in the quiet after their landing.

Doc did so. He looked up at the Statue of Liberty. He was home again.

"I hope I never have to do that again." The Comic raised his mask enough to vomit over the side.

"It was great." Tim shook the boat. "We're in New York. That's great, G.A."

"I'll see that he gets home." Doc smiled at the sight of his city. Not even a spirit of vengeance could dampen that relief.

[csyphrett]

epilogue

Under-sergeant Soshi Cygnia walked down the glazed hall to her office, cup of stimulant in hand. Her black hair had been cut short per regulation. She had lost an eye during a landing. That had landed her in the Communications Building.

Punching a superior in the face had landed her in the Probe Section.

It was a dead end job. She hated it.

Cygnia paused at her door. She had a long, boring day behind her desk waiting for a call. At least she could check the live feeds for combat missions while she was stuck filling out paperwork and going over report methods.

She should have killed that stupid Colonel.

Cygnia unlocked the door and stepped inside. She sat behind the desk, checking her implant clock. She still had a handful of minutes before she could check in. The system wouldn't let her log in until it was time.

Cygnia drank her juice. The chemicals sliced through the morning blahs well enough. She wondered what it would be like to actually get a probe call into the office. It hadn't happened in her lifetime as far as she knew.

Cygnia smiled as the system beeped. She placed her thumb on the print indicator. The system activated. A floating hologram leaped into action. The navy's satellites began dumping information to her station.

All of it was all clear.

She sighed.

It looked like it would be the same old, same old.

She wanted so bad to get on the front lines. Every petition for transfer had been denied. The last one had warned her to stop trying or face decommission. Maybe she should have picked the firing squad after all.

The system beeped at her. She had an incoming signal. The under-sergeant froze for a few seconds as she reviewed procedures. The call had come finally.

Then it stopped.

Cygnia frantically checked the systems. Maybe it was a false alarm. She should have a direction to point the locator rods. The only thing registered was a nondirectional pulse. The wave had hit several border posts that relayed the signal back to their firebases that relayed them back to Central to the Communications Building. Her office was the last stop.

Cygnia sent a command back to the border for them to point dishes back in the direction the wave had come from when it hit them. Maybe she could triangulate a source.

Cygnia smiled. This might be her chance to get out of this dead end, and back shooting things again.

She couldn't mess this up.

Maybe the listening posts had screwed up. Maybe it had just been a cosmic phenomenon that clouded the bands. Maybe someone had sent a fake signal to get her excited.

She vowed to shoot someone if that last possibility came to light.

Give me something else I can use. Give me something. I need it. I need to get out of this cell. I need to shoot someone. Give it to me. Give it to me.

Another signal beamed into the big ears she had turned beyond the borders of the Conglomerate. It lit her screen in vectors and wave lines. The frequency was from an old probe. She could tell that from the way it shook hands with the navy equipment filtering it to her.

Cygnia sent out commands. She needed to get a better fix. She needed to figure out where the exploding circle radiated from. Then the Fleet could sail to that source and deal with what's there.

Cygnia wanted to be on that flotilla.

Cygnia found she couldn't narrow the wave down to a specific solar system. She gritted her teeth as she did everything she could think of to find that one planet. The best she could do was narrow it down to a particular slice of space.

Cygnia groaned. It was just her luck. She put her head down on the desk. She should have known that it wouldn't be too easy.

Cygnia collated the information in a file. It was the best she could do. Visions of a trip back into space popped. The best she could hope for was a chance to help pinpoint the planet where the probe had landed.

Cygnia dug into the signal to try to figure out what kind of probe had sent her the call. The file of information went up to Fleet Control. That might give them some kind of clue how old the probe was, and why it had activated now.

Analysis wasn't her strong point, but she should have something in the files. Once she knew what matched up with the signal, she would have a better idea what was out there waiting for them.

The only thing she found in the unlisted probes file was a lost ship that had been in combat and jumped randomly with an attacking rebel ship. Both had been considered destroyed from the wreckage left at the scene where they had crossed the light barrier.

That had been at the start of the Conglomerate when it had started expanding from their home system.

The signature matched probes from that era. That technology had not advanced much in the intervening centuries. It hadn't needed to because of the way the navy expanded in other areas.

Why send a probe when you can send a flying weapons platform?

[bubba smith]

your epilogue doden't seem to relate to the story

[DusterBoy]

Interesting epilogue, csyphrett. I assume that Under-Sgt Soshi Cygnia is not human and that the Conglomerate is an alien society?

But Bubba is right. How does this tie into the rest of the story?

[death tribble]

To do wuith the orb methinks

[Yansuf]

Clearly, the orb is (part of?) the probe.
It actuated as a result of what was done to it in the story.
So is the sequel an "Invasion of Earth" story?

[bubba smith]

apearently so

[csyphrett]

you guys are all exactly right. I am going to try to knock out some solo stories for a bit since I am still putting together an agency for Ben's magazine.
I'm hoping to have five or six shorter stories put down before I start on Teen Strangers and The Invasion line.
CES

[Yansuf]

Question:
Who was the "Captain" referred to near the end?
The senior survivor of the crew was the bosun, as I recall.

[bubba smith]

Question:
Who was the "Captain" referred to near the end?
The senior survivor of the crew was the bosun, as I recall.
i think it referred to the captain of the ship that rescued mad george&co.

[csyphrett]

Question:
Who was the "Captain" referred to near the end?
The senior survivor of the crew was the bosun, as I recall.

You are exactly right. When they resurrected the ship, they brought back a little more than steel from the sea.
CES

[Yansuf]

Having just read the story again, I have a question.
Didn't Dr. Walkur take a pistol from the sentry when she escaped down river?
What happened to it?
In later chapter she didn't have it.

[bubba smith]

she must have discarded it after runing out of bullets, not having the right caliber of bullets for it

[Yansuf]

she must have discarded it after runing out of bullets, not having the right caliber of bullets for it

Maybe, but I don't recall her ever firering it.

[csyphrett]

She switched the luger for the two Colts she used on the guards at the airport, and took to Antartica.
CES

[Yansuf]

She switched the luger for the two Colts she used on the guards at the airport, and took to Antartica.
CES

She took the guard's weapon (and belt and pants) at the end of chapter 5.

In chapter 13:
"Haven stuffed the thing back in the bag. She looked up. They knew where she was. Lucky thing they couldn't hover like an autogyro. Otherwise, they would drop down on top of her like that.

Haven ran with careful steps. It was too easy to turn an ankle in the undergrowth. She didn't want that on top of everything else.

The plane circled overhead, trying to pinpoint her in the trees. Bullets cut loose as men pointed weapons from an open hatch. The projectiles ripped leaves and wood as they ran to one side of the running archaeologist.

Haven wished she had a gun to shoot back with. She had a fair hand with a hunting rifle. Her father had taught her that much."

Now this could mean she didn't think the pistol would be effective, but it is ambiguous.

[csyphrett]

You're right about that, Yansuf. I think I missed stating reasons there. I'm sorry about that.
CES