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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 215: Brown 361
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 68
Derek noted that The Eagle was a gifted pilot. He instinctively worked with the wind and the pressure to get more out of the Cessna than an amateur pilot could have. After a bit, Derek asked if he could sit in the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit, and receiving assent went up there and began asking questions. The Eagle was glad enough to explain, as a night flight was not the most exciting trip with little chance for sightseeing. Vashti napped, and Brian studied his Sword. Sockajawea explained that she knew that ‘there was a great fire under Yellowstone, and it had become upset’, but she did not know more as talking to such vast entities was beyond her skill. With the right rituals she might be able to speak to rabbit and fox, but such a being as Yellowstone? No, never. Meanwhile, Tommy sketched new ideas for graffiti, and the plane steadily churned through the night air.
The Eagle let Derek have the controls for five minutes, and then took them back as they were getting closer to Yellowstone Airport. Fifteen minutes to midnight on Thursday night the Cessna landed smoothly on the two strip concrete airport.
It took an hour to get clear of the airport with most of the time being The Eagle making triple sure everything was just so for his airplane in its rented hangar.
A short taxi ride along the exterior of Yellowstone City brought them to Cutter’s property. As they got out, the taxicab driver, an older, weathered looking man with a short stub of an unlit cigar in his mouth, spoke out the open window.
“You folks look like you can handle yourselves. I ‘spect I ain’t telling you any surprises when I say Doc Cutter owns that rundown factory, and he’s a mean fellow. He punched one of my company’s taxi drivers for taking a wrong turn. Would not surprise me in the least that he’s up to something illegal. The fence is electrified, even if there are no signs, and he has guard dogs,” the taxi cab driver rasped.
“Is no signs for an electrified fence legal?” Brian asked gently.
“No, mister, it ain’t. But you know how it is. One rule for the rich, one rule for the normal guy in this here world.”
“Not the way God wants to run things,” Brian said quietly. The taxicab driver spat.
“I ‘spect not, but I don’t think Cutter cares much what God thinks, other than the god he sees in the morning mirror, iffen you know what I mean.”
“We do, chariot driver.” Vashti said.
“Huh, chariot driver. I like that, pretty lady, I like that. Watch your six. No telling when the Boche is going to sneak up on you.” With that, and a handwave with cigar in hand, he drove off leaving them standing at the T intersection of two roads with most of the fields ‘round about being tall weeds. They were on the edge of Yellowstone City, and still in the Rio Grande Valley.
“He was a nice man,” Vashti said.
“Nice?” Tommy raised her voice, sounding a bit skeptical.
“Crunchy and hard on the outside, but sweet and kind inside,” Vashti explained. “Derek?” she questioned.
“On it.” He closed his eyes and threw out his clairsentient awareness. Opening his eyes, he gave everyone a soft nod to let them know he was alright before he focused more. His point of view went over the ten foot tall chain link fence. The yard beyond it was cracked concrete parking lot with weeds and small trees springing up at random, but right next to the fence on both sides was a double strip of mowed lawn.
Trails ran through the fifteen acre parking lot, and he saw a Doberman Pinscher jogging along one. It had a spiked collar, and another sort of collar as well. Swooping down on another one of the guard dogs, he noted burn marks, Lichtenberg-tree-shaped scarring near the second collar. This suggested to him that these were some sort of electroshock collars. Disgusted, he pushed inward toward the massive building which was six stories at least, and yet much wider than it was tall.
Hardly any lights could be seen in the brown-brick-clad building through the small regular paned windows that suggested floors. Arriving near the front entrance, he saw a dozen medium transport trucks parked with their tails toward the building. Burly men with surly expressions were busy hauling off cardboard boxes and other items from the trucks.
Drifting closer, he heard one man grumble to another as they walked between the trucks.
“I don’t see why we have to tote this stuff. He’s got the mindless Shamblers.”
Before the other man could say a word, a scathing female voice cut in.
“Because Doctor Mordenslice wishes it, Number Five, and I his loyal servant due to the bomb collar around my neck, will make sure you do what he wants. But let’s be honest, Miller, yes, I can read your mind. It’s a very dull book. Miller, I’d do it anyway, because I’m bored, and when I get bored, I look for entertainment. Seeing you scream and dance as you try to slap off bug bites on your body would be very entertaining, don’t you think?”
Derek looked up, and saw a female in a white costume, crouched down, and leaning over the top of the nearest truck. He faded his viewpoint back into the engine block of the nearest truck, but he listened as Miller, or Number Five of the Blackmask Gang, tried to avoid getting mind-warped. The problem was that the supervillainess had given him an impossible question. If he said ‘yes, sounds swell’ then she had her excuse to toy with him. If he said ‘no way’ as any reasonable person would, then she had an insult as an excuse for her to toy with him. He screamed for a while until he passed out.
The senses began to fade; he had apparently reached the limit of how long he could maintain it. He decided to let the others know what he had seen and heard, and then try to pick up again from here, so as he opened his eyes he spoke.
“You can see the electric fence. Ten feet tall. On the other side are multiple Doberman Pinschers as guard dogs who have spiked collars, and for some reason electroshock collars. Further in there are Blackmask Gang members, with whom Brian reportedly had a tussle when he first arrived. They are unloading trucks of supplies into the factory. I don’t think they are happy about the job. There are something called Shamblers which maybe could do the work.”
“Sewer Savage had this mind control poison, skin contact. It suppressed your will so you followed the loudest voice,” Tommy said. “The victims were called Shamblers.”
“There was also a powerful female psionic in white who was abnormally cruel. She is controlled by a bomb collar.”
“Lady Nightmare,” The Eagle said. “The story she tells is that she was visited in her dreams by a Nightmare, and she defeated it and took its powers. But along with being extremely cruel, she’s also a compulsive liar.”
“Her best trait, and it’s not much of one as she’s quite powerful, is that she’s not very bright,” William Tell Junior said. “She can create forcewalls and illusory nightmares, read minds, and puppeteer people. She claims to be able to reach into the Realm of Dreams and pull out monsters to set loose temporarily. But no one’s sure if that was merely an illusory nightmare or a giant dream spider. She can create a dream nightmare and ride it into battle.”
“I think we need to circle around her, and avoid her,” Sockajawea said.
“I think we need to know what’s in that building,” Brian said. “And the other one, too.”
“Yeah, I lost my focus; it’s one of those things that sometimes doesn’t last as long as I’d like, although usually I can maintain it,” Derek said. “Let me get back to that.”
As to the old stories that have long been here:
