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killer shrike
Sun Mar 20, 2005 at 11:59:41 am EST
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The Adventures of Alcheman #16, Part Two
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The Adventures of Alcheman #16


“Feuds, Familial and Otherwise,” Part Two



Previously: Look down. No, further. No. Further.


Grace O’ Mercy slid back the privacy curtain to on of PhantomHawk ER’s examination rooms. Two men, both of whom the young nurse was acquainted, waited for differing levels of patience.

The wounded one was surprisingly calmer. He was tall and broad shouldered, in a sleeveless blue spandex top, his face concealed by the ice pack held to it. Still, the Periodic Tables inked to his biceps were a dead giveaway.

“Alcheman. What happened?”

“Niles zigged when he should have zagged,” the second costumed man explained. He was of average height with a wiry, muscular build. Clad in his trademark green and purple and hoilding on his bow, the arrogant archer known as Trickshot shuffled from foot to foot as a man accustomed to living life at full throttle was wont to do when forced to wait.

Grace stepped past the Legionnaire and took away the ice pack to examine the patient. His nose was bloody and swollen, and even with the domino mask affixed to his face the Night Nurse could tell Alcheman would soon be sporting a pair of impressive shiners.

“Whoever hit you tagged you good. Was it a supervillain?”

“No,” Michael emitted a nasally negative before pointing to Trickshot, “Him.”

Grace glared over at the archer, “You punched him?!”

“Hell, no! I, uh, shot him. With my boxing glove arrow,” Carl Bastion fidgeted, “It was an accident!”

“Before going out on patrol together Trickshot wanted to “test my reflexes.” He said superheroes sparred all the time,” Alcheman recalled in his distorted voice.

“Damn skippy. It wasn’t my fault Alka-Seltzer here can’t get out of his own way.”

“I… was unprepared,” Michael countered.

“You attacked another superhero,” Grace accused flatly.

Trickshot held up his hands in protest, “Yer making mountains out of molehills, Gracie. The pre-team-up bout is SOP in the crimefightin’ biz. I even offered to let Niles return the favor and deck me, but he’d rather play the martyr card.”

“I just feel assaulting another superhero is counterproductive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trickshot snorted, “Flippin’ Eagle Scout.”

“Can I hit you, then?” Grace asked darkly.

“If that’s your thing, baby.”

Nurse O’Mercy shook her head and turned back to the patient, “I don’t think the nose is broken, but we should probably do some X-rays, just in case.”

“The Legion’ll foot the bill for the tests, Gracie,” Trickshot piped in.

Alcheman was ready to object, as he had already planned on going to St. Silver’s later in his civilian guise and have his own insurance cover any tests, but he realized that would be needlessly stubborn.

“Thank you,” he snuffled to Trickshot.

“Aw, cripes! Don’t be thankin’ me after I plugged you, Alka-Seltzer. Yer trying to make me look bad.”

“I apologize.”

“See! See!” he gestured wildly to Grace, “This guy’s playing, like, mind games on me! Sneaky b@stard!”

The Night Nurse sighed. The evening was already off to a thrilling start.

*****


“Nice play, Niles,” Trickshot complimented the man who rocketed beside his jet cycle, the unfortunately named “Flying Ass.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Alcheman shouted back over the roar of his own thrust. He had assumed the properties of solid rocket fuel, and was willing a continual conversion of kinetic energy to keep pace with the marksman, who explained his earlier accolade.

“Lookin’ all noble and forgiving in front of Nurse Hotstuff. What’dya do; get Gracie’s number while she was wheeling you to X-ray?”

Michael was incredulous, “You think I was attempting to impress Miss O’Mercy?!”

“Well, yeah.”

Alcheman’s swollen features, already flushed, grew redder, “I would never-“

“Hold up,” Trickshot put his Flying Ass into idle. Alcheman followed suit, converting himself to water vapor in order to waft silently above the city. Both listened intently to the street sounds below.

Police sirens. And soon flashing lights began to congregate in the Uptown District.

“Looks like their heading towards the museum,” Carl Bastion determined before putting his vehicle in a steep dive, “Let’s go!”

*****


The Paradopolis Museum of National History was indeed under attack. From below, and well after hours.

A swarm of sallow skinned, bug eyed bipeds had tunneled upward into the basement, alerting security and causing quite a mess.

The creatures, armed with stone axes and war clubs, scrambled instinctively to the Geology wing of the Museum, and began hacking away at the multi-story platform that bore the department’s newest find: an unopened geode with a circumference of nearly forty feet. The intruders had managed to smash the plaster covering and were putting serious dents in the pedestal’s metal framework. The platform began to lean and crumple, and several dozen of the creatures held their arms above their bulbous heads, ready to catch the sphere as it fell.

Just then, the domed sky lit roof of the entry chamber gave way.

“Yippie Ki Yi Yay, mamma jammas!!” Trickshot swung down through the break Alcheman had created in his diamond form and cast a volley of flare arrows. The missiles served both to illuminate the field of battle and disorient their enemies.

“Hey, I recognize these guys- their Holoids!” Trickshot dropped atop the geode and nocked a net arrow, “Fish in a barrel time!”

There was an ominous creak, and the dais gave way. The annoying archer cursed as he and the geode fell. He performed a back flip away from the stone’s descent and shot a trampoline arrow into the ground below him to slow his fall.

While Trickshot was performing feats of acrobatic marksmanship, Alcheman was on the ground manhandling the Holoids. The subterranean beings could do little to harm Michael in his diamond form, but that fact didn’t keep them from trying. The Elemental Adventurer had just tossed aside another scrum when the geode crashed into the marble tile of the museum floor.

The Holoids reacted as one, amassing around the sphere and putting their collective shoulder to it. Slowly, they managed to get it rolling back the way they came.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Trickshot chided, laying down a field of glue arrows in front of the spinning geode. The epoxy bonded with the stone, holding it fast.

Having earlier seen how bright light disoriented the Holoids, Alcheman assumed the properties of luminous phosphorous and chased them away from their target. The wan-hued morlocks tumbled back down to their escape route, their sappers blocking pursuit by detonating charges that collapsed the cave.

Once the dust in the basement cleared Alcheman found a piqued Trickshot standing beside him, “Nertz. You let them get away!”

Alcheman resumed his normal molecular structure, “Not all of them. Perhaps we can learn why they were after the boulder from one of the prisoners.

Carl scoffed, “In case you didn’t notice, these skeezes ain’t exactly chatty.”

“If we examine the geode we may not require their input.”

“Hey, do I look like a geographist to you?!” Trickshot activated his communicard and called for one, “Hallie? Trickshot. I need you to put in a call to the SPUD boys. We got somethin’ here his science geeks may be interested in.”

“SPUD?” Alcheman asked when the arrogant archer hung up.

“Yeah. Drury’s got a whole branch of eggheads that specialize in figurin’ out weird frammistats and oddments. What’s the problem?” Carl had made note of the anxiety in the hero’s voice.

“It’s just that, ah, I’ve had some issues with the agency as of late,” Michael wasn’t exactly sure if the spy group knew about some of his recent dealings with the De Brown Streak and the Royal Canadian Mechanized Police, but wasn’t willing to take the risk.

“Who hasn’t?” Trickshot could see the generalization wasn’t making Alcheman feel any better, “Well, then vamoose. It’s not like I need you to stand around and look out of your league. That’s what Visionary’s for.”

“Oh. Well then. I’d best depart. Thank you for patrolling with me. It was eventful.”

Trickshot shrugged, “It’s not the way I like spending my weeknights, but hey, you need the practice. Later, Niles.”

With a slight scowl Michael pressed the tattoos that would allow him to assume the form of helium and drifted away.

*****


Jay Boaz used the strength granted to him by his Titans cap to load the boulder into a waiting SPUD flatbed. Nearby his teammate Dancer was helping agents explain to the Holoids through mime that they were in fact under arrest and that if they needed a lawyer one would be provided for them. Improbably, the creatures seemed to understand the gist of the conversation.

“Is that all of them?” Hatman asked Dancer.

“Yep. Poor things. They’re obviously confused and terrified, and a bit lacking in brainpower.”

“Yeah, and an encounter with Trickshot isn’t likely to help matters,” Jay noted.

Dancer laughed, “Don’t forget Alcheman was here too. He was probably even more out of sorts than the Holoids.”

“Yes, about that,” the Capped Crusader took the opportunity to broach a subject that had been on his mind, “I’m curious as to why you recommended Trickshot to serve as an adviser to him. I mean, there is certainly no one braver, but he’s not really, ah, the person I would choose as a mentoring figure.”

“You’d have gone with someone more stable and stalwart?”

“Sure.”

“Like you?” Dancer asked mischievously.

“Well, yes. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging,” he rubbed the back of his neck out of discomfort, and then noted, “Alcheman and I worked well together in fighting off that Skunk attack before Christmas.”

“Hatty, anybody can be a hero when you’re around. But if Alcheman is going to be any good at this, he needs to be able to face adversity,” Dancer’s devilish grin was back, “Can you think of anything more adverse than having to put up with our own annoying archer?”

“Huh. Heh. I suppose not,” Jay watched the SPUD agents drive off with the geode, “That’s one mystery solved then.”

******


And down below the Earth’s surface, clues are given to get to the bottom of another:

“Curse those costumed cretins!” the Hole Man whined to the message bearing scout, “Curse their interference!”

The stubby little man hopped from his bejeweled platinum throne and began pacing about the cavern. He thumped his walking stick against one of the rooms carved stalagmites, “I have spent decades searching, and to be thwarted by such imbeciles… even they now must realize the value of what they possess!”

He rounded on his assembled legions. They numbered in thousands. Not just the mute, unintelligent Holoids, but also a number of beings the surface dwellers would chauvinistically call monsters: creatures spawned by the long forgotten Deviate race.

“Prepare for war, my subjects!” the Hole Man told them all, “For that is what it will take to get the egg now. Go, and make ready!!”

After a boost back into his seat, the tiny tyrant leaned back to watch their efforts.

Next: We travel to the boardroom and meet up with Donald Branson, an old acquaintance of the Woosters. But is his mysterious adviser all that he appears, or even really there at all? Plus, Agnes lays a guilt trip on Michael, and the Scourge of the Parodyverse gets in range of another target. Out soon.









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