Ultimate S.H.A.D.E. #10: The Good, the Bad, and

[jackalope]

Ultimate S.H.A.D.E. #10
The Good, the Bad, and the Weird pt. 4

The two blurred grey figures stand, disintegrating guns aimed squarely at the pinned man under the taxi cab. Vhoomp. Simultaneously the triggers are pulled leaving a fine mist of silvery dust and a massive hole in the ring, exposing the concrete floor below. The taxi cab makes a grinding sound as it balances on the edge of the ring now left, before it rolls forward, falling until only the back half stuck out. The crowds cheering falters, becoming a hesitant silence as the cloud of dust fades into the air. Someone coughs.

The grey men drop their hands and turn their heads to one another. “The escapalon has will is terminated. Universe designated olo7 jintl-speg are clear now, Expansion can is starte...”

A metallic donk echoes out the Macrollatts are smacked off their feet by Furious Frank and the Brick, both holding metal fold up chairs. The crowd erupts in applause. The disintegrator guns fly across the ring, until they slide out to the edge. The grey figures hit the floor with a thud. The Brick drops an elbow drop on the back on the closest, whilst Furious Frank produces a microphone from somewhere.

“Are you ENTERTAINED!?”

The roar of the masses confirms the answer. Frank stares down at the two suited creatures, which the Brick is currently taking turns putting in holds and moves on, then looks back at the crowds.

“These A-HOLES thought they could crash their taxi down here! and TAKE the TITLE FROM US!”

Another roar, this time full of righteous anger. The Brick is pulling back the leg of one of the currently pinned figures.

“YOU KNOW HOW THAT MAKES ME FEEL!?”

“Furious!” The crowds voice blend into a barely discernable cry. Furious Frank holds up a hand to his ear, and crouches melodramatically.
“I couldn't hear you over the stench of these newbies... Now tell me, HOW DOES THAT MAKE ME FEEL?!!” Furious Frank's face is visibly red now.

“FURIOUS!!” The crowd is on their feet.

Swiftly Furious Frank turns and points at the figures. “That's right! AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!” The cries from the crowd obviously mean that they do. The beefy pro throws the mic out of the ring and runs to the corner of the ring, climbing it and turning.

“Oh no, hoho, what do we have here?” one commentator asks another.

“I think we know what this means Mike, we are going to see Furious Frank's famous, 'Fury from Heaven',” the other commentator shakes his head, “this is probably the most exciting night of wrestling I've seen in my career.”

“You're not wrong there Tony.”

Furious Frank, balancing on the second rope down, beats his chest, whipping himself into frenzy. He bends his knees, then leaps. The Brick scurries out of the way. The huge man falls towards the suits. Two sides Furious Frank land on either side of the Macrolatts. Blood gushes out into the air and then pools under the body halves, perfectly split down the centre of Frank. The grey whip-like claw retreats back into the sleeve of the creature on the right.

Silence.

The two figures push themselves up, brushing down their suits. “We are behinds schedule stated. We can should commence expansion immediately.” Both figures nod in unison. The grey figure on the left and turns its eyeless head towards the other wrestler, who now scrambles desperately on his knees towards the edge. A long thin spike curves out from under the suit jacket and arches up above the Brick. It stabs down, pinning him through the side of his lower back. The wrestler arcs his spine and screams. The grey figure turns back. The Macrolatts reach into their jackets and pull out identical items, curved metallic objects like small metal flying saucers with curved black buttons at their centres. With a click the objects are activated.

The discs fly together with a clink, passing into each other until there is just one object. It floats up, vibrating and making a screeching sound, like metal grinding. As the object rises the light changes, becoming dimmer and less saturated. Suddenly the crowd is in a panic, screaming, as with a seeming randomness, people catch fire and start to melt to the stand seats. The space above the object starts to bend, stretching upwards into a cone, edged by licking black flames.

A long pale tendril reaches down through the vortex, growing sporadically, like fungi in a time lapse video.

The screams are muffled by the object's shrill whine that still becomes louder.



Lyta looks to Father Time, but his still bruised face keeps facing forward. What she finds most disconcerting is that he's yet to replace his turban. She chews on the inside of her cheek and waits. The Indian man touches his ear and squints his eyes.

“Uhuh, yes, no go ahead.”

Outside the constant motion of the train casts flickering artificial lights through the carriage windows. She's sure they've been moving downhill for at least half an hour now, and turning, but all she can manage to make out is giant metal pylons stretching upwards and downwards, pot marked with cables stretching out the walls around them.

“You haven't seen much of the base right?” It takes a moment for Lyta to realise Time is talking to her again. She turns to the weary Indian man and nods. He half smiles. “If S.H.A.D.E.'s base were a body, the DRA-SIL would be the spine. The Digital Relay Access- System Integration Labyrinth stretches straight down into the earth's crust. We draw power from the heat down here, meaning we're self sufficient.” He pulls a pipe from his jacket pocket and starts to pack it. “We also can do experiments down here that maybe unsafe nearer to populations.” He lights the pipe and shakes out the match. He looks back up at her, “and, we can keep people and creatures down here that are too dangerous for the outside world.”

Frowning slightly she asks, “It's a prison?”

Father Time lets the smoke linger between them before looking away. “There are terrible things in this world, my girl. Creatures that could freeze the oceans with a sneeze, monsters that could swallow the sun, daemons that could slay continents...”

Lyta's eyebrow raises, asking the question '...and?'

Father Time sighs, “...and, the smartest person I've ever known.”

Lyta looks out the window. The train was slowing. “He's in prison for being smart?”

“Dr Niles Caulder is kept in a secure location with every facility and entertainment he might need, for his safety as much as the worlds.” The train's brakes squeal to a stop and Father Time stands. The door slides open. Lyta follows Father Time out and down a long metal corridor that twists and turns around like a maze until they arrive at a vault door guarded by two S.H.A.D.E. employees. The Indian man types in a code and the door hisses before swinging open. He walks through. Lyta sticks her head through, her mouth open. Huge metal walls stretched up into darkness, in the middle of which a house sits lit by light, surrounded by grass and a white wooden fence. “Come on.” Time walks up the small pathway and knocks on the door. Looking about, Lyta follows and stands behind Time. “Niles, it's Father Time, open up.”

There is a shuffling and the door opens. A black kid, sixteen or seventeen, looks at Father Time then at Lyta behind him. He waits a moment then coughs, releasing a cloud of smoke from his lungs. Lyta sniffs it then ducks back a few steps. Marijuana. Father Time pushes past him into his house. “We need to talk.”

Niles smirks at him then turns to Lyta, who stares at him quietly. “What? You thought I was some old white guy with a beard huh?”



“We've created the antidote to the poison, but Laura's in a coma.” Frankenstein clenches his teeth. Bride's internal update continues, “Jules won’t leave his lab. Science and Occult divisions are lost as far as what’s happening in the arena and the few notes time left are sketchy at best. Best guess is we're looking at some sort of inter-dimensional... overlay? Sorry Frankie I never caught up on my theoretical quantum physics.”

“Understood.” Frankenstein looks down below to the sports arena below. From the height of the helicopter the shift in colour was noticeable, fading as it become closer to the centre of the closed topped arena. An unnerving silence seems to emanate from the area. Wind blowing his short black hair, he turned to Robotman and the transformed Manbat. “Are both of you ready for what awaits? We move into shadows. I do not know what awaits us below.”

Manbat shrugs and nods. He says gruffly, “Well we're here now so...”

Robotman steps forward to meet the giant blue monster. “It is only in the darkness that we can see our enemies.” He looks back to Manbat. “One of S.H.A.D.E.'s older crests, or near enough. Shall we?” He looks out the side of the chopper and shivers. “I hate heights.” He steps back and leaps out. He is followed by Frankenstein with mighty his sword drawn, and finally the huge form of Manbat diving towards the arena's aluminium roof.


“I have to admit, wrestling never did it for me, until today that is...” Niles turns around the huge leather swivel chair and grins. Behind him the last moments of footage broadcast from the wrestling match replay on staggered loops over multiple screens covering the wall behind him. People, eyes gushing with blood, scream silently, while others just sit chests ablaze with blue flames. Visible in the background of the screen pale tendrils writhe about like jellyfish tentacles. “Obviously they got new writers.”

“Niles.”

The kid ignores Father Time's voice, looking at Lyta, who awkwardly shuffles further back into the couch. He winks.

“Dr Niles Caulder.” The kid turns to an impatient looking Father Time. “We need your assistance.”

“My help...” Niles scratches his short afro haircut. “With what?”

Father Time grits his teeth. “This is not the time for your games. This is serious.”

The kid reaches down for a huge custom-made bong, and presses a button, taking a drag. “How serious?” He releases the smoke and turns his eyes to Time. “Get me out of this extended-underworld-dungeon-time-out serious?”

The old man nods.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Time sighs. “If you assist us in stopping this,” he says waving at the screen, “you will be free to live above ground.” Niles reaches out his hand. Time hesitates, then shakes.

The kid stands smiling widely, and claps his hands together. “Ok.” He runs out of the room and returns with a small backpack. He pulls on a vest with a number of dials and lights, and puts a couple of pairs of headphones around his neck.

Time stands up. “We've got a chopper ready for express transport...”

“Not needed.” Niles reaches out and grabs Lyta's hand, pulling her up and towards him. He looks to the tired-looking Indian man. “I'm taking her with.” He flicks a switch and a flash of white blinks a grinning teen and a surprised young woman into nothing.

Father Time stares at the blank space. “Little shit.” He shakes his head. “What was I thinking?”



Frankenstein's blade arcs down through the fleshly roots that extend down through the expanding void in the middle of the roof. The tendrils detract back with each slash but quickly expand outwards again. Robotman points his wrist out and a white laser fires out in a beam, cutting through the living roots. A tentacle suddenly spirals around Manbat and tightens. He shakes, enraged, and rips himself free. Frankenstein stares at Langstrom howling, but can barely make out the sounds above the high-pitched whining that eats away at his concentration. He snarls and strikes again with his blade.

Out the corner of his eye something flies by. He looks up, sword ready, trying to make out movement in the colour-drained constantly churning environment. Something dives past him. He tries to shout to Manbat, but the creature seems itself pained but the constant whine. Robotman is examining at a corpse, in which one of the tendrils has grown into the stomach. It dives again. Frankenstein sees it. A huge slug-like body and a head that seems to consist of a large mouth surrounded by long sharp spines, it floats in the air, its body twisting behind it.

It lingers, sensing them. Floating up higher, it spirals and swims to Manbat who is crouching low with bleeding ears. It lunges. It explodes, and Frankenstein cocks his steam pistol again. Something blinks in his mind. A message from Robotman. “This isn't working; we need to get to the source.” He looks to the metal companion who is cutting through the jungle of fleshy vines. Frankenstein keeps slashing.



“What the hell are you doing?” Lyta's voice sounds distorted. She looks at the boy's eyes. He is holding her at the waist.

“Travelling five times the speed of sound with little relativistic effects.” Around them the world is blurring by. “I call them Theta Beams, technically you travel exponentially faster than this, at a hypothetical Zeta level, but there's only so much you can do with a couple of cell phones and a microwave oven.”

“Why d'you take me like that?” Lyta holds on too, worried about the possibility of letting go and being traced across the ground across several boarders. “You don't know who I am.”

“You're hot.” Niles smiles and lifts his eyebrows a couple of times, to make the point.

Lyta turns away, looking at the lines blurring under her. “Can you really stop this?”

He pulled her closer into a hug and puts his chin on her shoulder. “One would hope so, seeing I'm the guy who discovered the fucking dimension.” Her eyes widen and she looks down at his back. The movement stops. They are standing across the road from the now ominous looking arena. Pale tentacles worm out through the broken glass doorways. “We're here.”



With Manbat's wing around his shoulder, Frankenstein continues forward, following Robotman's trail, still cutting at the tentacles that fly out around them. The air itself is thicker, more like liquid, creating a slight distortion in what was visible. Something drops on his sleeve. His green blood, rolling down from his ears. Robotman's voice. “Look.” He lifts his eyes to where the cyborg points. Amongst the central mass of descending fleshy vines two blurry grey figures hover above the wrestling ring. Side by side they float with arms out by their sides, their hands overlap. Vibrating, the figures slowly are drawn together, their grey flesh blurs and stretches, flickering in and out of visibility.

Robotman's message: “That's not good.”



Lyta slips on her dark sunglasses and turns around. “Ok, ready.”

Niles turns around and frowns, looking up and down the now transformed Medusa. “Mytho-gorgonic genetic transformation, cool.” He smiles and hands her headphones. “Put these on.” She takes them and slips them around the writhing snakes that cover her head. Some indie-pop rock fills her ears.

She lifts one of the ear pieces off. “What is this?”

He pushes her hand back to her ear, and she hears his voice coming from the speakers. “Trust me, the music will help.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a strange looking gun, its barrel covered in neon coloured lights. He points it at the tendril that stretches through a broken window along the steps towards them. A wobbly neon streak wiggles out from the gun and hits the tentacle. The thing jerks and splits apart, leaving a mass of tiny tentacles wiggling in the air. The severed tendril slides back towards the arena. His voice intercuts with the music. “Follow.” He runs into the building.



Frankenstein lowers Manbat to the ground and turns, staggering under the weight of the oppressive sound. With effort he turns his head to see Robotman leaning towards one of the bodies lying, bleeding out of the ground. He looks up at the merging grey creature hovering above them. He lifts his steam pistol and tries to focus. He squeezes the trigger. He watches as the bullet reaches the target, stops, then harmlessly drops to the floor. The painful sound becomes louder.

Robotman places his fingers to the man's back, measuring his weak heartbeat. The man's mouth moves. Filtering out the excess sounds he replays the clip. “I thought it was fake...”

“What? What was fake?” The man does not seem to register his voice. Blood is pooling under him. His mouth keeps moving. Robotman filters.

“I thought it was fake... he sunk through the floor... it was all part of the act... I thought he was in on it...”

Robotman fast forwards through the footage of the wrestling match, cycling through the different camera angles. “It's all fake... all an act? What was he talking about?” The wrestlers swing each other around in elaborate moves, gesture to the crowd, posture, smack talk. A strange thin man runs on to the ring, wearing a tweed suit and a purple luchadore mask. Strange but the other wrestlers seem to go with it, the crowds entertained. Faster. Suddenly the taxi, flying through a wall and smashing the newcomer to the ground. Then people being vaporised, bursting into flames, tentacles stretching down from the ceiling. Blank. The footage ends. Rewind. He sunk through the floor... The grey figures aim their weapons at the pinned wrestler. Slow motion. There, there, there... Gone, then the blast hits. Their target- they missed. Whatever he was, he sunk, phased, into the floor.

As he turned Medusa and Niles appeared.

“There is someone we need to find.” The words come from both Robotman and Niles.

Frankenstein shouts with fading strength, “WHO?”

Niles reaches up and tweaks the knob on the blue-man's neck and the indie-pop starts to play, reducing the pain caused by the background siren. Then he points his weapon and fires. The wiggling neon lines skip around the team and spray out in many directions. The tendrils around them rear back. Niles points to the ground behind Frankenstein. “Him.”

Frankenstein turns to see a purple-masked head floating through the floor, following the energy, as if it is irresistibly attracted to the wiggling lines. The lights blink out. The masked head shakes and looks up at the strange group standing staring at him. He lifts his hand and waves, then starts to drop down into the ground.

“STOP!”

The head stops and raises back up. The group looks at Medusa who stands, her head surrounded by a halo of poised snakes. “WE NEED YOUR HELP...” The head looks at each of them, then up at the merging entity. Featureless, behind the mask, he still seems scared. “Com'on.” Medusa extends out her clawed hand. The Weird hesitates, then takes it, floating up out of the ground. He looks up alarmed.

A dozen of the flying slugs drop down from the portal and slide through the air, twisting towards them. Medusa lifts her glasses. The creatures gain speed.

“Shit, no eyes.”

The spiny slugs dive. Frankenstein hefts his blade and Medusa slashes her claws. Slugs drop, but others twirl around, cutting the fighters with ease. Robotman turns to Niles, broadcasting his voice through the kid's headphones. “Time let you out?”

“Good behaviour.” He looks up at the vortex. “We don't have long, the dimensional gate is growing.”

“You have a plan? Do you have more of those guns?”

“No, that's run out, but I do have the source of the same energy.”

“Where?” Niles turns and looks at the Weird. Robotman's head follows. “He is an energy being in their dimension, they use his kind like batteries. They're usually pretty passive though, it's weird that this one is different.”

The Weird shrugs.

Niles looks up at the merging figure above them, almost in dimensional unison, then back at the tweed suited man. “You have to help us, you can stop this. We need you use your energy to stop this.”

The Weird stares at him.

Robotman touches his shoulder. “Please.” The Weird looks down at the hand. He nods.

“Ok.”

The purple masked body collapses on the floor, limp. A radiant being floats out of it. Its very presence nullifies the piercing whine. It twists a luminance head and looks up at the void with jet black eyes. With a flash it zips through the nearly merged grey creature, ripping it apart into two limp rag-like bodies that it drops.

The root system of tentacles twitches, and suddenly come to life, flailing with a furious speed. The energy being punches and flies through the wrapping tendrils, slicing them apart. More and more fly towards him wrapping him up in multiple layers. A swarm of the pulsing slugs drop through the portal and wriggle towards him. Manbat launches up, taking down half the slugs with his attack. The ball of tendrils distorts out and warps in, then explodes leaving the energy being hovering in the air. The remaining slugs hit, but drop as they pass through him. He looks up to the portal, then flies in.

Rapidly the remaining tendrils retreat back up and into the vortex. The colour starts to return in to the area as the hole starts to shrink. It becomes smaller and smaller until only the faintest distortion can be seen the air. A wiggly neon streak flies out and hits the body of the collapsed masked-man.

The Weird coughs. Frankenstein pushes himself up and surveys the slaughter and destruction. The bodies of the slug things and the two grey creatures start to dissolve into pools of black muck. The voice of Bride echoes in his head. “Frank, status! Are you guys alright?” He touches the dial on his neck and turns down the music, or whatever it is supposed to be.

“We are alive. Our enemy is defeated. I believe we have new members of the team.”

“We've got helicopters on the way. They'll meet you outside shortly. Med-teams will be with them.”

“Thank you Bride.” He hears the sound of choppers in the distance. Walking over to Manbat he pulls him up. Robotman lifts up the unconscious Weird. Niles walks by Medusa and pinches her arse. She stares at his swaggering back, annoyed. She looks around at the dead bodies and sighs. She follows the team out.