“Excellent eyes as always, Quasimoody,” Serene said approvingly as she stepped up to the stone.
Alex gazed down at the rock that had become the focus of his companions’ interest. The stone seemed roughly the size of a small suitcase, wider than it was tall, and while it certainly appeared exceptionally heavy, there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about it, and nothing regarding its presence seemed out of place with the rest of the environment.
Serene walked up to the rock, turned her head from side to side to scan each direction of the interstate, ensuring no curious eyes might be upon her, and knelt down. She slowly panned her fingers back and forth over the stone’s surface, biting her lip in deep concentration. After several moments of searching, the inventor began focusing her efforts on a specific section of the rock. Her long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically, and then alternately slid about in small circles. This curious process continued for a good long while, and Serene’s expression grew decidedly agitated, occasionally mumbling to herself in irritation. Moody began “helping” by periodically kicking the side of the rock with a grunt. At long last a notebook-sized section on the rock’s surface gave way to a dark recess, containing what looked to Alex to be a small speaker, although no noise emanated from it. “Damn it all, Tiberius!” Serene growled, leaning over the recess, sweat rolling down her face. “Why can’t you install a bloody doorbell like everyone else? Have you any idea how damned hot it is out here?”
“Eh, what?” a high pitched voice came through the speaker, garbled and impeded by a heavy amount of static. “Serene? Is that really you?”
“Whoever else would I be, you old fool? Now open the damnable path before my delicate assistant boy dies of heat stroke!”
“Oh, goodness gracious! Serene! Oh dear, oh dear! What a wonderful surprise! Come in! Come in!”
Suddenly, the air around them felt strange, compressed, saturated with static electricity. Alex heard a loud snap, followed by a slight tingling sensation. Abruptly an archway appeared before them, a portal to some other place or plane of reality. Beyond this portal lay a pothole riddled road leading into the distance. He smiled with wonder and walked behind the portal, seeing nothing but the same desert landscape he had viewed minutes before. Walking back in front of the portal, however, he gazed in wonder at this road leading off into the distance.
“No time to dawdle, dear boy,” Serene said with a smile. “We must get through before someone notices.”
The three companions piled back into the pickup, Moody now returning to the wheel, and drove straight through the archway. Alex turned his head to look behind, and moments after the truck’s bed cleared the archway, the portal snapped shut. They still appeared to be in an area much like before: rocky, dry, dotted with cacti and the like, but the interstate no longer appeared behind them, having vanished into the ether. As Moody drove down the bumpy road, Alex began to spot numerous contraptions on either side, some as small as a kitchen appliance, others as big as a barn. Gears chugged laboriously, pistons rose and fell, propellers spun lazily, belches of steam blasted out, and various colored lights blinked on and off on these bizarre inventions. What they all could be for Alex didn’t have a clue, but each had become weathered, rusty, falling apart from neglect. Some contraptions appeared to no longer function at all, abandoned to crumble over time, while others gave off the impression that they were failures from the get-go, and were hastily dumped along the roadside to be gotten rid of.
After a short while the road turned sharply to the left, entered a small dell, and led straight to a most peculiar home. The structure stood two stories tall, and looked as though it were cobbled together from thousands of unrelated pieces of metal. Sheets of tin roofing, car hoods, steel doors, warped girders, rusting scaffolding, a 737 fuselage, shiny hubcaps, sections of ancient washers and driers, and countless more odds and ends were welded, bolted, glued and tied in what could only be described as controlled chaos. Wires dangled everywhere, turbines creaked in lazy rotation, rubber pulleys squeaked, and a kingdom of hand-crafted wind chimes clanged like a symphony.
Already standing on the front porch, an excited smile on his face, was the owner of this abode. Tiberius stood a bit smaller than the average man, with thin arms and legs contrasted against a large, happy belly. His receding white hair stood up in all directions with abandon, as did his eyebrows, which were larger and wilder than any Alex had ever seen. A simple pair of glasses magnified the man’s gray eyes, resting atop a red nose, while his face blossomed into a massive, bristling, unkempt beard. He wore a dirty denim vest over a colorful shirt, covered by a good dozen pockets from which protruded all manner of tools, wires and plastic bits. A pair of ratty shorts stretched down to his knees, while his feet were adorned with a pair of dirty flip flops, displaying a full set of toenails that had grown haphazardly. “Serene! Serene! My dearest friend!” Tiberius squeaked, rushing up to the now parked car. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“Tiberius!” Serene replied happily, exiting the vehicle and giving the old man a great hug.
“I forget how beautiful you are, my dear,” Tiberius gleamed. “A goddess walking among mere mortals.” Serene smiled and motioned dismissively with her hand, but did nothing to display any manner of humility. “And what is more…you’ve gone blonde! Most fetching, I must say!”
“A little change now and then can be most stimulating. Oh, I simply love what you’ve done with the place,” she added, her voice bursting with enthusiasm.
“Oh, yes, busy, busy as always! I have so much to show you! But what do we have here?” he added, noticing Alex for the first time. “A dashing young man. Newest husband?”
“Assistant,” Alex replied hastily, with an unmasked hint of offense in his tone. “Alex Hobbs. Pleased to meet you, Tiberius,” he added kindly, hand outstretched.
“Welcome to my humble home, Alex!” Tiberius ignored Alex’s invitation to shake hands and instead wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders playfully. Tiberius reeked of garlic and some other pungent odor that Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he kindly patted the inventor’s back in obligation. “And the ever lovely Quasimoody!” he added, releasing Alex.
Moody, now standing behind the pickup with the tailgate down, shot Tiberius a strained half smile, and before he had a chance to get his arms around her, shoved a suitcase into his chest. “Thanks for helping with the bags,” she grunted.
“Oh, yes, yes! Let me help you with your luggage,” Tiberius squeaked cheerfully, wrapping his arms around the suitcase. “This is so exciting! I can’t wait to show you my latest work!” he continued on, walking back to Serene’s side. “Just last week I perfected a device which converts toenail clippings into hydrating conditioner! Look, just feel my hair. Go on, feel it!”
“Brilliant, my love. Pure genius!” Serene said, tugging at the ends of the old man’s wiry locks as he bent over. “Henceforth I should call angora steel wool in comparison.”
“Oh! And gaze upon the oscillating fan dangling from the awning there,” he pointed excitedly.
“Does it repel blood gophers?” Serene asked.
“Even better! Since developing this wonder I have seen nearly a fifteen percent increase in sulfur worm growth!”
“You’re pulling my leg! Truly? Oh, how long have I been waiting for someone to invent such a device? Bravo, my good man! Bravo! Truly, we have come to the right person, no doubt about it.”
“And how is it that I come to be blessed with such wonderful surprise guests?” the man asked, placing the suitcase next to his front door.
“I need your help, old friend. I have been unjustly maligned by the UEL…”
“Goblin licking sons of harpies…” Tiberius interrupted, spitting out each syllable as if it were a poisoned dart.
“Not only do I find myself pursued by their agents, but my own dear companions have been assaulted by the Cosa Nosferatu!”
“How dare they?!”
“Verily!” S
erene nodded with pride. “Today I declare war upon both depraved organizations!”
“Death to all of them I say!” Tiberius piped, pumping his fist. “I will lend you all of my aid, my lady!”
“I knew I could count on you, old friend. Hell hath no fury like a Necrosia scorned!”
“Yes! Yes! Blood and ashes and all that. Hoorah! But how’s about a drink first?”
“But of course, my good man, we mustn’t forget our priorities.”
And with these words the four of them shuffled into Tiberius’ home, the two inventors laughing loudly.
Chapter 16- A Familiar Voice
Daniel Hammett sat in Officer Lee’s office alone. A simple glance at the fury etched into his face ensured that nobody had bothered to so much as make eye contact with the Cyclops all afternoon. He still wore the same clothing, now much wrinkled and stained, from his fight with the Cosa Nosferatu the night before. A small bandage clung to the right side of his head, covering a short, curved line of stitches. He was incorrect, however, when he had guessed that a rib had been broken; in actuality, two of his ribs had been fractured in last night’s battle, according to the medic. Damned medic. The nerve of that woman: forcibly sedating him after he refused to rest, audaciously balking at his determination to tirelessly continue the hunt.
He glanced at a clock hung upon the wall. Two hours past noon. Necrosia’s associates had been on the run for more than twelve hours now, leaving no traces whatsoever, and here he was sitting on his ass doing nothing in this worthless yokel police station. He was this close to getting his hands on her hunchback and the assistant. This close. Vega was in the same damned room with them, for heaven’s sake! At least it was highly unlikely the fugitives had fallen into the hands of the CN, who had been handily squashed. So where the hell was Necrosia now? Was she in New Brasov still, hiding with an old acquaintance? Had she slipped out of town amidst all of the commotion? Who knew? She could be any damn place, and the most useful lead on her next plan of action, the forger Scarab, was currently rotting in the city morgue. Hell, if he hadn’t slept for ten hours because of that harpy spawn medic he might very well be back on Necrosia’s trail. Damn medic.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. It only took a few short hours for news to spread around the entire world that a bloody battle had been waged on the streets of New Brasov against a large group of Cosa Nosferatu operatives. This, of course, was to be expected. You can’t cover up such an event when it occurs across several crowded city blocks before hundreds of witnesses, not to mention that the noise from the fighting could be heard for miles. He already anticipated that those parasitic journalists would set about exploiting this news faster than Hermes on a personal errand for Zeus. The momentous setback to all of this, however, came when several damn fool New Brasov officers, enamored with their five minutes of fame, hastily let slip to reporters that they had been on a mission to capture the infamous Serene Necrosia. So, not only had they lost the element of surprise, but the Cosa Nosferatu would likely be joined by every damned criminal organization in a bloody race to acquire the inventor first. Already a great influx of individuals had flooded the New Brasov streets, eager to get in on the action. Many of these newcomers were reporters, but the vast majority looked more like bounty hunters and thugs. At least nobody save Lord Constantine knew precisely what Necrosia had done, and even then how much of the truth the vampire lord knew was unclear.
Raphael Vega stepped into the office, a warm smile on his lips, and an even warmer mug of steaming coffee in each hand. The Spaniard handed a mug to his partner, pulled a chair next to his, sat down and tossed his feet atop a nearby trash can, stretching his long legs with a sigh. Vega appeared entirely unruffled, as usual, thoroughly content to do nothing more than sip at his drink and let events unfold as they would.
Hammett sighed deeply in frustration, staring blankly into his coffee. “I spoke with Evans a short while ago. Every border, checkpoint and transportation service under EUL dominion has been alerted to the strong possibility that Necrosia and her associates will make an attempt to pass through with forged identification. A pity we have no knowledge of the new personas they have chosen, but it’s a start. Additionally, I have also requested roadblocks to be set up on key routes leading toward major transportation hubs. But without knowing in which direction they are headed, it’s like throwing darts at a map blindfolded, hoping we’ll get lucky. Hell, the CN probably know more about her next moves than we do.” The Cyclops growled, shook his head, and then sipped his drink with a frown. Vega waved his hand nonchalantly, placing his coffee atop Lee’s Desk. “I know. You’re right. They have to pop their heads out again sometime. If I only knew where to begin looking…” Hammett trailed off, rubbing his temples in deep thought. “This entire case has devolved into a monstrous, bloody nightmare.”
A soft rap sounded, followed by Officer Lee slipping into the office and shutting the door behind her. “Inspectors, sorry to intrude, but I believe you might want to see this.” The look on her face and tone of voice revealed the exhaustion and stress placed upon her after the lengthy battle and the sleepless night that followed. She opened a small drawer on her desk, and pulling out a thin remote, activated a Visi-Screen mounted on the wall.
As soon as the television-like device lit up, the three onlookers were greeted by the smug face of Professor Snotwaddle. He wore a sweater made from bright pink feathers with green splotches, and as he spoke with passion, his jewelry-laden fingers flashed back and forth across the screen in wild gestures. “…and time again I have warned that Serene Necrosia is a danger to society. Well intentioned, without a doubt, but a danger to herself and others nonetheless. Her UEL approval as a scientific professional should have been revoked decades ago, if I had my way.”
“Wonderful,” Hammett grunted. “Now we have to listen to the old blowhard add his two cents to the perfect disaster.”
“Don’t you think that’s something of an overstatement, Professor Snotwaddle?” a charming female voice asked. “The only newsworthy item in her past has been the invention of Varlic, which can hardly be called a ’danger to society.’”
“Ah, but here’s where your error lies, my dear,” Snotwaddle remarked, finger pointed. “Even before these unfortunate events, which led to the devastation of our quaint town of Eville, I had been conducting my own research, and let me tell you, what I have uncovered is both astonishing and mortifying. Everyone always likes to point out the tremendous sales of Necrosia’s product, but…did you know that since she introduced Varlic, erectile dysfunction has increased by 35% and irritable bowel syndrome by 46% amongst the vampire community?”
“Goodness, if your findings are correct, this could indicate a significant health risk for vampire-kind. Why has this information only now come to light?” the female reporter asked.
“I do not know, my dear. Certainly, if I were not so busy with matters of great import I might have had time to look into this so-called Varlic years ago. This is, without question, a gross failure on the side of the Food Approval Administration. If I were in charge, I swear to you now, heads would be rolling. Yes, the danger signals were small to begin with, but left unchecked…well, just look at what’s she’s done! The Mortuus Plane was again opened, and if it weren’t for my intervention, mind you, my guidance in the darkest of hours, we could very well have plunged into Armageddon!”
“What the hell!” Hammett barked, leaping to his feet. “Has he lost his mind?”
“Wait a minute,” the reporter asked, a slight tremble in her voice, “are you going on record stating that the Mortuus Plane was opened…here in Eville? You’re certain?”
“Of course I’m certain! I was there, in the middle of hell unleashed, for heaven’s sakes!”
“That crazy son of a harpy!” Hammett roared at the Visi-Screen, his hands atop his head in dismay. “Snotwaddle was explicitly instructed to keep his mouth shut! Damn it!”
“For those of you now joining us, esteemed authorit
y, Professor Snotwaddle, has just moments ago exclusively revealed the shocking and terrifying news that inventor-turned-fugitive Serene Necrosia has committed the ultimate crime…by willfully breaking the Lovecraft Accord and opening the Mortuus Plane in the community of Eville, through some dark means of her own design.”
“Get Evans on the line!” the Cyclops yelled at his partner. “Now!”
“Serene,” Snotwaddle’s voice boomed out as his face filled the Visi-Screen, compassion welling in his eyes, “Serene, if you can hear me, I implore you to turn yourself in. I know you’re not a criminal, dear. But you need help. Please, for the love of all that is good, let me help you. Turn yourself in.”
Chapter 17- Ally to the Cause
It was readily apparent that Tiberius rarely, if ever, received visitors the instant Alex stepped into the old man’s home. The residence was cluttered, extremely filthy, and possessed what could best be described as the bachelor’s funk — that distinct, musky, rank odor found in areas long abandoned by the fairer sex. From floor to ceiling the eye met a never-ending wave of wires, panels, lights, tubes, microchips and the like, each functioning as part of the myriad devices Tiberius had crafted. It was noisy inside, too. A constant chorus of clicks, chirps, beeps, swishes, pops, thumps, wheezes and dings necessitated that everyone yell in order to be heard over the racket.
“Come, come, come!” Tiberius squeaked excitedly, almost skipping along as he led his guests. “Let me see, let me see,” he mumbled absent-mindedly to himself. He was searching for a place for his guests to sit, but all of his furniture appeared buried under piles of junk. After a moment of inspection, the old man began removing objects from a long sofa, tossing them carelessly into a far corner. “None of these worked very well, anyway,” he chuckled, shoving the entire pile of doodads off a recliner onto the floor. “Sit, sit, sit! Make yourselves comfortable. And I shall fetch us a drink to celebrate!”
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