From her many monitors up in the 3996 meter high Controller’s Office, positioned as close to the Void as possible without getting absorbed, she watches the unfolding of the apocalypse on levels below…
… no Blue in sight.
In a directly related story, Mid-Hazel or Hazel Wood was never in a cell in the cellar to begin with. All part of the plan.
Just a dummy.
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He sat up front so he could see better with his littler head. The Mann and Bullfrog sat a row back, glad of the excuse for privacy. Now they could talk freely — or whisper freely — while Aqua Dude was absorbed in the story. The Mann of course knew the contents of the film inside and out, having studied the hated Dynamic Duo for years looking for weaknesses and such. Bullfrog was just glad to get away from his controlling lover/partner and chat with someone else without sparking jealousy. Albert (or Alberta) retreated back into his maintenance position and, as stated, was forgotten by all. Tea serves well as a reminder to forget.
“I thought you were dead,” The Mann began in his whisper of a tone.
“No. That was the doctor. We exchanged places, good for me bad for him.”
The Mann absorbed this. “What about your family? Red Squirt 7 wasn’t it?”
“Dead as well. Dead through gunns.”
More absorbing. “What about wo-mann?”
Bullfrog looked over. Aqua Dude was hanging onto every word Wayne Bruce in front of him spouted about Asylum, a company he started on the western seacoast in 1972. He watched him open a file.
“If you mean why am I still with Aqua Dude, I decided to give up the fairer sex long ago. Tried it in my teen years. Didn’t work.”
“What about the whole frog thing?”
This made Bullfrog think about Frog Rock they passed on the way to Wayne’s villa here. “I guess it was something that just had to be.” He’d thrown away marriage to Miss Parr to become Green. He returned home to the Motherland.
“Missed you Sonny.”
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“Sorry about not answering the door in a timely manner, gentlemen. My Girl Friday is out today visiting various doctors. Forgot to get a physical when she was hired last week for one thing. And her back was giving her problems.”
“Hmph,” centrally sitting Aqua Dude dismissed the casual talk. “Soo… about the end of superheroes, especially the super one known as Superduper Guy, my arch-nemesis.”
The Mann wondered why a superhero would have another superhero as such instead of a declared villian like the Joker or the Penguin (for instance), but didn’t speak this aloud. Instead: “We have good reason to think that Batty Man and his wonder boy Superduper Guy will not be returning from inside the polar circle, Antarctica in their case. The Penguin set up something there called a Back Room in modern culture. Many many rooms and corridors leading nowhere. And malignant entities found within.”
“Popsicles?” said Aqua Dude to this, puzzling The Mann. “Popsicle people I mean?”
“I’m… not sure.”
Aqua Dude turned to partner/lover Bullfrog. “You remember don’t you Bully? The popsicle people, the one with sticks for legs and ice for heads?”
Bullfrog recalled something along those lines and said so.
“Amazon (Room), yes. The heads kept them cool in the jungle and the legs allowed them to step over the snakes and spiders more easily and safely.”
All became silent. The Mann realized they were waiting for him. “Yes, we have the various Bat Cave instruments downstairs that tell us they’re still in Antarctica, still in that Back Room hypothetically. Else that or dead.”
“Either way: good.” Aqua Dude again, in a voice not of a child but a grown-up, despite the size.
“The Manor is most likely mine to claim then, you see. I entered Wayne’s villa and became a Waynesvillian, with all the others, my Girl Friday, my wife Parasol, Albert the butler, acting as proxies.” Where *was* Albert, The Mann suddenly thought, as if waking from a dream. Was he in the Bat Cave? Did he also go to Antarctica with his boss and sidekick? Must – find – Albert.
“Yes, sire?”
“Jeez! Uh hmm. You scared the bejeebers out of me, er, Albert.” Mindreader! The Mann thought. *Now* he recalls. Minderaser as well! Did a number on him when he came to the door for the first time. The superheroes’ last card to play.
Then they all drank tea and The Mann forgot who Albert was again. As soon as he left his sight.
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“Interesting tattoo you have on your back there, Ms….”
“Krakow,” she finished for the doctor. “Marsha ‘Pink’ Krakow.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. Very colorful.” The records said Shelley. Shelley Johnston Struthers. This was the correct body.
—–
“*There* it is. Up on the hill. At least we know we’re in the right Wayensville this time. Um, Waynesville I meant there.”
“Of course,” said the driver to the passenger who was also his lover. Bullfrog and Aqua Dude, on their way to a meeting with The Mann about the future of superheroes in general. And their whole DC University along with them.
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“Come in, gentlemen. Welcome to The Truth.”
But then the man disappeared as they walked through the doors. Dead End.
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The moment TILE got real.
“Green, Red! Come over here! We found something!”
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“Up here Superduper. I think we’ve found it.”
So The Penguin has set up a sinister Back Room location in Antarctica? Wouldn’t be the first.
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Batty Man stared at Shakespeare staring at the phone whilst sidekick Superduper Guy read a book about squirrels in the distance. Bored out of his gourd, he decided to at least *pretend* something was happening. “Brrng brrng,” issued a noise from his mouth that was suppose to be the phone ringing. “Uh oh, better get that Shakey,” and he leaned over and picked up the red receiver.
“Antarctica!?” he yelled when the pretend person gave him imaginary information from the other side. “And maybe New Zealand ta boot!? WELLL. We better leap into action!” Shakespeare, who was only a head to begin with, flipped his lid with the news. A couple of buttons pressed in the resulting neck stump and the secret bookcase door slid open — ‘nother one.
“Tell me, Oh Batty One,” spoke Super over to his superior superhero boss before sliding down. “Is this mission really on the up and up or is this like all the other ones?”
“We’ll see!” and he went down first. Oh well, Superduper Guy consoled himself. At least it’s summer in New Zealand. If we can just make it through Antarctica.
“To the pole!” Batty Man cried, pointing forward after they hopped into the car, making Superduper Guy imagine he was sliding back up the pole behind him instead, back to the cozy fire and his interesting book. He’d just reached the chapter about flying squirrels when the “call” came in. Now he may never know how they pull it off. But he had his orders.
“Sure, whatever,” he answered the boss and started the mobile, letting it warm up a bit since the old thing was in desperate need of a tune up. And perhaps an engine overhaul. “Penguin this time I’m assuming!” he yell-guessed about the arch-villian they were dealing with over the roaring, sputtering engine.
“Maybe Penguin *and* Joker!” answered the boss. “They’re often in league with each other, being from the same New Jersey township!”
“So I’ve heard!” And with this they zoomed out of the Bat Cave and into the World of Man. Everyone within a 500 meter radius heard the noisy piece of junk leave. Like with any group of neighbors they’ve had down through the years, most were glad to see them go for a while. The arrogant pricks.
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Long ago she took to wearing an eyepatch while in the public, well, *eye*. Covered up the blue one, you see. Gave her the name Redeye, soon shortened to Red. She was ruler of this land in a sort of iron fisted way. Creating an army, although the other half of her, the blue side, feared for her life because of it. It was time for her monthly meeting with the Redslandian Press, tell them about what’s going on in the empire. How’s hubby The Mann doing? Any new staff hires? That kind of thing.
When she got to the hiring of Marsha, she halted. How to phrase it? Certainly The Mann would see the broadcast, either live or, if later on because of other matters, taped (she couldn’t remember what he had on this morning). She decided to keep calling her Patricia because of this, although as we’ve seen, Marsha replaced Patricia when she assumed the secretary job. Patricia the St. Patrick girl was no more after this, and neither was Tania the Valentine person. All because of the deletion of the tree and all the ornaments, but *especially* that train one. Marsha has some power after that, some leverage. Just like Parasol. They stared into each other’s eyes and saw deception. Both knew about Biff Carter. Both kept this from The Mann.
Marsha was watching it live from her cubbyhole in the middle of the manor about 175 meters away and 20 meters up. A knock at the hidden room’s door, which meant a knock on the Secret Door Bookshelf blocking the only entrance. Who could *this* be? she said to herself while debating whether to make her presence known. But of course: they can hear the broadcast. Should’ve wore headphones, but she assumed everyone else in the building was watching the same. She’d have to answer.
“Who’s there?”
A pause. Then: “Biff. Biff Carter.”
(to be continued)
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He wouldn’t reach out to him if it weren’t desperate times. “I need your help, Cpt. Americus, with these two loud mouth *goof* balls I’m currently house sitting for. The manor should be mine — *will* be mine. Are you in, wannabe superhero? Or are you out?”
“Let me finish this bucket of grey matter chicken and I’ll be able to decide,” he requests, and takes another bite. Slow chews. Sloooww.
There, he can feel it working again. His brain.
“Count me in,” he said as the last bit of gristle disappeared into his mouth, also the last of the magically produced chicken. Oh look. A whole new batch of pieces to consume when he looks down again. The Mann could be waiting a while. He’d forgotten about the bottomless bucket, an isolated superpower.
“Hold on, I suddenly forgot what we were talking about; remind me of the deal again?” he said as the munching and crunching began anew.
“Never mind Cpt.,” The Mann decided. “I’ll have to get back to you — another meeting, you see.” He didn’t plan to get back to him. This part of the search was to be closed up like an abandoned dangerous mine with its own bottomless pit.
—–
“Spaced Ghost,” he said to the next. “You’ve been with us since before the beginning, it seems. Surely *you* understand the power I desire. You can be there too. Sitting alongside me… and Parasol.” The Mann wasn’t quite sure how Spaced Ghost was young again, since his son Baker Bloch was nearing 67 years old now. Had to be 95-100. But here he is, shiny cape and shiny teeth and youthful physique. He didn’t question it, though. He was told he resided at the Shakespear’s Club in Centre County PA. Maybe the location was magical and gave him youth. He’d heard about such things associated with places named for The Bard. Like that ghost town near Lordsburg NM (revitalized in novel 39).
But when he teleported in to the proffered landmark, the only club he could find was the one slung over Young Spaced Ghost’s shoulder, as in a vintage Shakespear Gary Player Black Knight #2 Wood from the 1970s.
“I liked this place because they had a picture of me up on the wall there,” he started. “Don’t know when it was replaced by these collages or whatever they are.” He stared at one called “Doc’s Art”, wondering what it meant and the technique used.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Spaced Ghost. But about the deal…”
“Me and Zorak and Moltar — all 3 of us together. Boy I miss those days. Ghost Planet.” He sighs.
“So… about those nincompoops I’m dealing with,” directed The Mann again. “The Dynamic Du–”
“Regaltown: gone,” Spaced Ghost continued with the nostalgic lamenting. “Horns of Hatton: energy dissipated. We don’t have much left in Our Second Lyfe to cling on to. Might as well all pack up and head to the Red Dead Planet. Maybe we can make it into another Ghost Planet or something. We’ve already had several tries. I guess you’ve heard about them. Libra Neptune, the owner of the course I’m heading to after this. St. Dennis — son Scorpio Pluto told me all about it. Said they got there through a streetcar and he hadn’t heard back in a while. Said he’s ready to go over too once the portal’s stabilized; sell the golf course here and then recreate it over there in a better way.”
St. Dennis? The Mann thought. Portal? Suddenly he had more to mull over than revenge on some old, irritating neighbors. A whole new world was opening up.
(to be continued)
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Sunklands 