Resurrection Man
Starting Over
by Paladinlgt
Mitch Shelly smiles at well dressed Mikron O’Geneus as he finishes fixing up the warehouse with the aid of several fast moving robotic devices.
“The boss doesn’t like me to use the nanotech, since it’s so far ahead of what’s available in this day and age, but, since you decided to stay outside the base, he cleared it for use here. You sure you don’t want any of the future tech here?” Mik looks eager to add a few high tech devices to the almost bare warehouse room.
Shelly shakes his head as he sits in a just made chair. “No thank you, Mik. I do appreciate you putting in the workout room at the end like I asked, but as for all of the gizmos I would prefer not to have to deal with it now.”
Mik looks disappointed about not going to put in some extra touches as he heads to the transporter booth in the center of the warehouse. “I keep forgetting that you are still adjusting to this new day and age.”
Mik waves one hand to the gadgets, which disassemble and then melt down at his gesture before he vanishes into the teleporter. Mitch Shelly gets out of the chair and wanders around the warehouse, lost in thought. He pauses in front of a bookshelf full of ancient books before moving to sit behind his brand new desk. Propping his feet up on the desk and leaning back in the chair, he reaches into a jacket pocket to pull out one of the business cards the overly-talented Mik had printed.
A smile crosses his face as he reads the card out loud. ” ‘Ancient and Modern Languages Translated. Separating Fact from Fiction of the Supernatural and Mythological in the Modern World at Low Rates.’ At least I won’t be bored,” Mitch says to himself as he puts the cards back in his pocket and starts reading one of the ancient books.
Mitch Shelly curses as the hammer smashes his finger instead of the nail he is trying to hammer into the wall. On the floor beside him sits a covered oil painting and behind him is the attractive Doctor Yokito Oka. Shelly returns to hammering the nail, knowing how ridiculous he looks.
“You are one of the most graceful men I know, with both your sword fighting and martial arts, so I can’t see why such a simple task as that is so hard.” Yokito Oka controls the urge to laugh as she watches him work.
“There’s a difference, though, between that and this. I have to concentrate to do this, and the other flows naturally without any conscious thought required.” Mitch Shelly hits his finger again and tosses the hammer on the floor.
He gives Yokito a dirty look when she starts laughing before laughing himself. Yokito comes over and picks the hammer up and, with a few professional hits, has the nail in its proper place. One of her eyebrows rises as she gives Shelly a ‘see how easy it is?’ look. Mitch nods his thanks as he uncovers the painting on the floor and hangs it on the wall.
Yokito hides her shocked expression at the painted picture. The painting depicts a knight in ancient armor with a glowing sword, battling a horde of shifting shadowy monsters. Mitch smiles as he steps back from the picture and moves toward his desk.
“Is the picture why you were gone for several days?” Yokito asks after regaining her composure and making a mental note to contact Kompera Lee.
“You could say the whole thing started because of one man’s talent at painting,” Mitch says as he tells Yokito the whole story.
***
One week earlier at an upscale art gallery, where an exhibit of paintings from Marco Gonzales is on display.
A mixed crowd is gathered walking around the gallery and admiring the pictures. Mitch Shelly is examining the portrait of an Aztec warrior, when a man bumps into him, spilling champagne on his tuxedo.
“Do watch where you are going,” the man says in a thick autocratic tone as he gives a look of sheer distaste to Shelly. The man waits for an apology, but Shelly ignores him to wipe the stain off with a handkerchief.
“You have no idea who I am, do you? My name is Winston Winthrop, and I expect you to apologize this instant for your clumsiness.” A sneer is on Winston Winthrop’s face as he announces who he is, obviously expecting Shelly to know the name.
“Never heard of you before.” Shelly returns to staring at the portrait with considerable pleasure as Winthrop snorts loudly.
“This is what comes of allowing the common man into the art gallery. They do not know how to treat their superiors.” Winthrop puts his hand on Shelly’s shoulder, expecting to be able to easily turn him around but is unable to budge him at all. Shelly smiles slightly before abruptly turning, sending Winthrop falling to the ground. Shelly walks over to the next picture, leaving Winthrop complaining behind him.
The next picture is of a man in ancient armor battling unearthly creatures. Shelly feels an instant connection to the man, even if his face is covered by a helm. For a split second an image flashes through his mind of a group of men and women watching an individual fly through a portal in sky before it vanishes. The image fades, leaving Shelly puzzled as he looks at the picture.
“I painted that one from my dreams three years ago when I was here in California,” Marco Gonzales says with a trace of pride in his voice.
“It’s almost like it was painting from real life, even if some of the pieces of the armor are from different historical periods and places,” Shelly says wondering just how that knowledge popped into his head as he glances over at the artist.
“An historian and a translator of words as well. I wonder what other hidden talents you possess, Mister Shelly?” Gonzales asks as he shakes Shelly’s hand firmly.
“If your wife invited me to your art exhibit for me to be a critic she will be sadly disappointed, because I have found all of your paintings extremely well done.” Shelly gives Gonzales an appraising look, noticing the tinge of fear in Gonzales’ eyes that very few people would notice.
“My wife acted without my knowledge, but she was only concerned about me, so perhaps I should tell you of the book I found amongst my grandfather’s effects. I only ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt, since my story will sound quite insane,” Gonzales says with complete seriousness as he gestures for Shelly to follow him. In a quiet alcove he sits and gestures for Shelly to do the same. Gonzales offers Shelly a drink taken from the small refrigerator before speaking of the book.
“My grandfather was involved in a movement during World War Two to retake the lands for the pure blooded amongst those in Mexico. He grew disgusted after it was revealed that the whole thing was a plot by the Nazis and left the order. According to his papers, he took the book with him because he felt that this order didn’t deserve the knowledge contained in the book. His papers hinted that the book was a key to fulfilling his dream of the pure blooded people reclaiming their heritage.” The fear grows in Gonzales’ eyes as he remembers reading his grandfather’s papers.
“So this book is some sort of key or map, but why does it frighten you so?” Shelly asks as he fiddles with the soda.
“It wasn’t until I removed the book from the papers surrounding it that I became afraid. As soon as I touched the surface I felt a sort of electric shock, and strange visions filled my head of human sacrifice, sorcery and a great temple. Strange beasts that were both men and monsters were also in my vision. I dropped the book and put it back in the wrapping paper. Then that night my dreams were visions of the same thing and every night after that as well. I shared my troubles with my beloved wife, as I cannot keep a secret from her. She then contacted you after several of her friends mentioned that you were a translator of both living and dead languages. She thinks that if the words in the book are translated to something we can understand, then my dreams will return to other things.” Gonzales expects Shelly to consider his story a tale of madness but is pleased to see the thoughtful expression on the other man’s face.
“Give me the book and I will translate it for you if I can. If I can’t, I will find someone else who can do it for you,” Shelly says as Gonzales looks hopeful.
“I have the book with me, Mister Shelly. If you can help rid me of these dreams I will pay any price, including introducing you to my cousin.” Gonzales hands the book to Shelly with considerable relief.
“Your cousin?” Shelly sticks the small book into the jacket of his tuxedo.
“My cousin is a beautiful, wealthy, intelligent woman who the family hopes will settle down with some man soon and have children with. My wife says that she likes women better than men, but I think she only needs to meet the right one to cure her of her strange desires.” Gonzales has a straight face when he says this to Shelly.
Shelly chooses a diplomatic answer as he rises from the chair. “It would be a great privilege to be introduced to your cousin, Mister Gonzales. I will return to my office and begin working on the translation immediately.”
“You are most generous to do so, Mister Shelly. My wife will be sorry that she missed a chance to meet you in person.” Marco Gonzales stands to give a tiny, respectful bow as Shelly walks toward the exit. Hostile eyes watch as Shelly leaves before returning to stare at Gonzales. After a few moments the man with the hostile eyes steps outside, following Shelly discreetly. Two other men step forward, and a whispered conversation takes place. All of the men seem to possess an unnatural grace in movement as they break apart. One goes back inside to observe Gonzales, another follows after the departing Shelly, and the third goes to a corner phone booth and makes a call.
The one in phone booth speaks hurriedly in Spanish to whomever answers the phone before hanging up. The sunlight strikes the man, casting a shadow behind him, not of a man but some sort of large wolf. The man smiles as he goes back inside the art gallery to look at the paintings and join his associate in keeping an eye on Gonzales.
The man following Shelly has no trouble keeping up as Shelly walks several dozen miles back toward his office. Both walk with no signs of effort, whereas a normal man would already be sweating heavily at both the distance and the speed of the walk the two men maintain. Shelly is warm and friendly, pausing occasionally to converse with the people he sees. It is not only the genuine interest that he displays in the people he meets but the sparkle of delight his eyes convey as he speaks with passion and flair.
The man following him has cold and dead eyes that seem to evaluate each person he passes with clinical disinterest before moving toward the next. Several people detour widely around the man, unconsciously sensing that he is a highly evolved predator waiting for an excuse to gobble them up. Others speed up and avoid any eye contact with the man. Shelly seems unaware of the danger behind him as he continues toward his combination office and home.
Shelly pauses to unlock his office door, flip the sign over to indicate that he is back, and then walk inside. The other man takes a position several dozen yards away and proceeds to keep a vigil over Shelly. Inside Shelly is carefully examining the outer papers that the mysterious book was wrapped in. He walks over to a metal wall several feet away from his desk and places a hand on it. “Activate.”
The wall opens up, revealing several hundred racks of bookshelves contained within a tesseract. Shelly walks within the tesseract and proceeds to search the shelves. He returns to his desk, placing several volumes of extremely obscure material on both Mayan and Aztec magic and history next to the still wrapped mysterious book. The wall returns to normal as the hole closes automatically.
Shelly becomes lost in the world of languages as he translates the markings on the wrapping paper with the aid of the books he selected. A notebook is quickly filled with his musings as he works. After an hour he finishes the work on the wrapping paper and goes through his notebook. Shelly turns to a new page and starts writing his summary of what he has learned from the symbols.
My conclusion is that this book was carefully concealed with symbols from the Mayan culture. The symbols contained a containment field for the power of the book and to keep the book from being detected with the aid of magic. Unwrapping the book partially broke the symbols, allowing it to be once more detected by magic. I have a suspicion that my client is one of these rare people with the gift of second sight, which in his case takes the form of very intense and vivid dreaming. The interaction between his gift and the nature of the book is still uncertain, but several hypotheses have occurred to me. It will take translating the book first to ascertain which one is the most likely.
Shelly finishes his summary and puts away the filled notepad. He picks up the volumes and once more activates the passage to the tesseract and replaces the books in their proper place amongst the shelves. He muses on how long it took his current allies, Kompera and Mik, to talk him into having the tesseract installed in the first place as he returns to his desk. It had turned out to very useful on several occasions so far. No fear but rather a fierce excitement was shown on Shelly’s face as he cautiously unwrapped the book and set the wrapping aside. The mysterious book seemed to be normal except for the lack of aging in the both the pages and binding, Shelly thinks to himself as he touches the book directly. At the contact between flesh and book Shelly suffers flashes of images that go by too swiftly to grasp. The images contain the effects of direct sensation from all the senses. Shelly forces himself to break contact from the book as the room itself seems to become less and less real and the images more and more solid. A look of extreme curiosity is on his face as he backs away from the book to ponder just how to avoid the effects of the images.
Outside the man keeping the vigil has felt the sacred book itself being unwrapped and has a look of extreme wonder on his face as he struggles not to answer the siren call that the book possesses. Only an iron will allows him to ignore the call and maintain his watch. The man takes several steps backward as the call diminishes in strength to just the traces of its former pull.
“Indigna alma,” the man mutters as he thinks of the man he followed to this place touching the treasure that his order has searched for since World War II. His clan was the foremost of the true people entrusted with returning the sacred artifact stolen by one of lesser races. Much glory would come with returning the sacred book, but even more would come if the signs were correct. His clan chief said the one known as Marco Gonzales was the True Dreamer as prophesied so long ago. The True Dreamer was necessary to find the holy place that would restore his people to their former glory as well as elevate the servant race back to their previous position.
***
At the gallery, Winston Winthrop is escorting the last patron of the art outside. “The artist has already left Madam to go home to his wife. I suggest you do the same.” He locks the door after the woman leaves and pulls out a handkerchief to wipe his hands fussily. He turns and is surprised to see a figure carefully examining a picture of a Mayan building.
“The gallery is closed, sir,” Winthrop says as the man pulls the painting from the wall and then removes it from the frame.
“I am calling the police.” Winthrop moves over to the phone and quickly tries to dial the number. The man without effort leaps the distance between them, slicing the phone cord with his fingernails.
“Pitiful creature, you will do nothing,” the man says, grabbing Winthrop with one hand and easily picking him up off the floor. Winthrop dangles in the air for a bit, trying to beg for mercy, but the hand cuts off his breath. The man looks with disgust at Winthrop before tossing him into one of the walls. Winthrop slides down to the tile floor unconscious as the man rolls up the painting in his other hand.
“Such pathetic creatures these humans are,” the man says, smiling at the rolled up painting before placing it in a carrying case.
“Now I must go capture the True Dreamer and his mate to make certain that full cooperation is possible, while others in my clan recover the book,” the man says to himself as he flows into his own inhuman shadow to streak underneath the locked door.
***
It is several hours later, and Shelly is making some progress in reading the book. He is busy writing his conclusions down in a notepad while sipping on a cold cup of coffee.
The book seems to be a combination of a map and an instruction manual for a Mayan device. I am impressed with whoever came up with the magic warding the book. The book acts as a lure to those with the potential to use magic, sucking them inside an artificial reality, and to those without that potential it appears to be some sort of innocuous writing. It takes a great deal of willpower to see the book as it truly is without being compelled to physically touch it. My theories about my client have solidified into only one possible conclusion. My conclusion is that he is magically gifted with the sight and because of his bloodline can safely interact with the book.
Shelly stops and turns to the next page to draw a small map and a name. The phone rings, and he puts down the pen to answer it. He hears the panicked voice of Mrs. Gonzales on the line.
“Señor Shelly, my husband has locked himself in his painting room and has been painting ever since he returned from the showing. I am greatly worried. Have you discovered anything in that hideous book to stop this?”
“I have some answers for him, Mrs. Gonzales, about what the book is. I haven’t finished translating the whole text in the book, but if you are that concerned I will come over now.”
“Please, Señor Shelly. The address of our home is on the paper that the book was enshrouded in.” The line goes dead suddenly as Shelly looks puzzled at the phone.
“Mrs. Gonzales?” Shelly puts the phone down as a concerned expression crosses his face. The thump of a canister hitting the floor draws his attention to the front of his office. The canister hisses loudly as a pink gas quickly fills the room. Shelly tastes the bitter smoke that surrounds him before slumping back in his chair, coughing loudly as the smoke gets in his lungs. Several minutes pass as Shelly lays back in the chair, seemingly killed by the gas before the man from the outside comes into the office. The gas has evaporated completely as the man looks around the desk. He slides the special book into a special box pulled from within his jacket before leaving. The man has a very satisfied expression on his face as he leaves.
That expression would have been far different if he had looked behind him to see the seemingly dead Shelly watching him leave the office before rising from the chair. Shelly waits two minutes before trying to follow the man. Shelly finds himself just in time to see the man transform into an animal shaped shadow that swiftly streaks away.
Shelly returns to his office to retrieve the address of the Gonzales home and then removes two rune-covered armbands from a hidden safe built into one of the columns. He concentrates fiercely as the clothes he is wearing transform into a costume. Now garbed as the Dragon Knight, Shelly walks toward the back of his office warehouse to uncover a modified street cycle. The Dragon Knight exits through a concealed doorway that opens and then seals shut behind him as the cycle races toward the Gonzales home.
He arrives to discover that the Gonzales homestead is apparently unmolested as he surveys the heavily re-modified ranch house. The red light from an activated security system shines on the front door and the two visible windows on the first floor. Dragon Knight reaches into the bag strapped to his street cycle to pull out a high-tech, deco-shaped gun. He aims it at the door, and a soft light gleams from the barrel. The red light on the security system switches from a steady red to an intermittent green color. Dragon Knight flips a switch on the deco gun, and its form morphs to the shape of a key. Dragon Knight sticks the key in the door and waits for it to reform to open the lock. He then unlocks the front door and walks inside. The security system reactivates several moments later, showing no signs of being tampered with.
His movements are naturally stealthy as he glides through the rooms searching for the Gonzaleses. He finds a phone with its cord cut in the kitchen but no signs of either the unnatural creature he encountered or the couple. He searches both floors of the house before heading toward the last room that is unlocked. It is obviously the artists work-room, as the smell of paint and paint thinner still hang heavily in the air. A rapid survey of the paintings indicates that only a select few have been taken. Dragon Knight examines the still drying painting on the easel. The painting is of a Mayan temple identical to the one he saw from the portal trap placed on the book. An educated guess about where the missing Gonzaleses have been taken to is reached, and the Dragon Knight goes back into the main part of the house to search for an address book. He memorizes only one number from the book before replacing everything to its position. He then repeats his actions in deactivating the alarm system and re-locking the door before jumping on his cycle and returning to his warehouse home.
He transforms back to Mitch Shelly and replaces the power bands in their hiding place before sitting down at his desk. A thoughtful expression is on his face as he considers all the options available to him. Calling the police would seem to be the safest route, but they couldn’t do anything unless he revealed that he had entered the house. That course of action wouldn’t help the Gonzaleses anyway, since he knew that their abductors were more than human. Contacting the new super hero group in Mexico would be just as fruitless, since they would consider him another crank. The possibility of just ignoring this chain of events didn’t even occur to Shelly as he came to the conclusion that he would have to go to Mexico, rescue the Gonzales, and prevent whatever sinister schemes were in play.
He picks up his phone and dials a number. The voice of Yokito Oka answers the call impatiently. “I’m in the middle of something. Can you call back later?”
“Sorry, Yokito. I need to ask you a favor,” Mitch says with an apologetic tone.
Yokito’s voice changes as she adopts a more civil tone. “It’s you, Mitch! I thought it was someone else. You know that you are welcome to call or come see me at any time.”
“I need for you to look in on Bell for the next couple days while I am gone out of the country. I’m not sure how much time it’s going to take, but I intend to be back as soon as possible. If you could tell our mutual friend about my leaving I would appreciate that as well.” Mitch is busy assembling his documents as he speaks to Yokito. He puts them all in a satchel before adding the translated pieces of the book as well.
“It will be my pleasure to help you, Mitch. Perhaps when you get back you can explain just why you are going out of the country.” Yokito’s voice lowers as she speaks, becoming sultry.
“Thanks, Yokito. When I get back we will have dinner, and I’ll tell you everything. I need to get going now, though, so good-bye.” Mitch waits until he hears the answering good-bye from Yokito before hanging up the phone. He goes back where he keeps his clothing and quickly throws together a travel package before returning to his desk. Dialing another number, he waits until he hears an answer.
“<This is Maria de la Vega’s residence. Can I help you?>” a young woman says in Spanish.
Mitch replies in the same language, “<Is this Señora de la Vega?>”
“<I am sorry, but she is out on business. I am her assistant Cecile Calle, and perhaps I can be of assistance to you,>” the young woman says helpfully.
“<Tell her it’s about her cousin and his wife and that I am catching the first flight to Mexico City if she wishes to meet me there. My name is Mitch Shelly, and she can recognize me, because I will be wearing a jacket with the Gotham Knights on it.>” Mitch looks around his office, trying to decide if he needs anything else besides the power bands.
“<She will want to know more than that if it concerns her cousin,>” the young woman asks quickly.
“<I don’t have time to go into detail right now. I’m catching the first flight out of the Los Angeles airport that I can get.>” Mitch Shelly hangs up the phone, regretting his rudeness to the young woman as she is cut off in mid-sentence. He gets the power bands and puts them on his wrists before leaving the warehouse. He locks the door behind him before running toward the airport.
***
In the ranch house of Maria de la Vega, the attractive Cecile Calle puts down the telephone and looks concerned. She turns to the statue of William Shakespeare and twists the head to the right. Two bookcases slide open, revealing a pole leading downward. Calle jumps on the pole and slides down as the statue and bookcase return to normal. She emerges in an underground lair filled with high tech gadgetry and weird trophies. She wastes no time in donning a headset that she uses to send a radio signal to her nominal boss.
“This is pretty bird calling sword girl. Come in, sword girl,” Calle says with amusement.
***
In the streets of Mexico City, a scarlet clad adventurer is battling a group of thugs. She dodges a clumsy swing and then retaliates with a swift kick to the jaw, sending one of the combatants stumbling away. She parries a swinging chain with her blade. A swift smile crosses her face as she activates an electric discharge that surges back through the chain, shocking the chain wielder. She spins her sword, sending the chain flying toward one of the now-fleeing thugs. It spirals around the running thug’s legs, sending him tumbling to the ground. She pounces on the fallen thug and holds her blade directly in front of his face. His eyes start to blink uncontrollably as the sword moves back and forth hypnotically.
“You never seem to learn, Carlos, no matter how many lessons you are taught. Perhaps if you lose one of your eyes, then you will learn that this city is under my protection,” the woman says mockingly as she taunts the frightened thug. The signal from her assistant reaches her radio, distracting her from Carlos.
“Dame Fortune has decided to give you another chance, Carlos, but if the next time we meet you are up to your old tricks, I will take one of your eyes as my trophy.” The woman steps off of the fallen thug, allowing him to flee. She taps the radio built into her mask.
“This is sword girl. Talk to me, pretty bird,” she says.
“I received a strange message for your alter ego tonight,” Calle replies.
The sound of a scream sends the scarlet clad adventurer running in that direction. “Sorry, pretty bird. No time to talk now. Work calls.”
A woman lies crumpled on the street with her top half torn and four men leering over her. One of the men turns at the sound of the scarlet clad adventurer entering the scene.
“Espada Escarlata!” one of the men says with a trace of fear in his voice.
“She is only a woman and alone just as this one is,” the leader says confidently as he kicks the downed woman with his boot.
“Si, Diego. We are many, and she is but one.” The sound of an arrow slices the air as it slams through the shirt of the rising thug, pinning him to the wall.
“Fleche Verde!” Diego says, now sounding fearful.
On the rooftop, dressed in dark green pants, boots, half gloves with his face hidden by a dark mask and a green hood, stands El Fleche Verde. “Señor. Los Superamigos counts Espada Del Escarlata as a valued member of its group. And I do not appreciate your manner in addressing her.”
Fleche Verde smiles as he quickly notches and fires four more arrows with blinding speed at the thugs on his streets. The arrows strike with exacting precision, pinning the criminals to the walls but not harming them.
He nods to the lady lying on the ground as she looks with awe at Mexico’s most famous hero. He then turns his famous smile on La Espada Escarlata, whom seems far less impressed with it.
“I could have handled those with ease, but you cannot resist showing off,” La Espada Escarlata says as she helps the young lady to her feet. The young lady thanks them both profusely as she runs home, but her thanks is only genuine toward Fleche Verde.
“I am helpless before your beauty, my dear Espada, and did not wish to waste your exquisite touch on such foul creatures such as these,” Fleche Verde says with a flirting tone in his voice as he watches La Espada Escarlata.
“I have told you before that I have no interest in being another of your conquests, Fleche. Now I have other things to do tonight, so I bid you farewell.” La Espada Escarlata takes off, heading to her motorcycle.
Fleche Verde strokes his beard speculatively as he watches the leaving Espada Escarlata. “She is warming to my charm at last.” He laughs and goes to inform the police that they have some new customers.
***
La Espada Escarlata races back toward the mansion she calls home, filled with curiosity about the cryptic message about her cousin. A tug of regret pulls at her for her exile from the rest of her family. Only her cousin and his wife defied the edict to stay away from what the rest of the family considered to be an unnatural woman. Only with the help of CeCe did she manage to keep sane, despite her costumed life as La Espada Escarlata.
Even operating with fellow costumed adventurers such as El Fleche Verde and El Toro Fuerte in Los Superamigos was more comfortable to her than trying to deal with the silence of her uncle and aunt. Her mind put such thoughts aside as she raced down the almost invisible entrance to the underground cave CeCe mockingly called “La Cueva de la Espada,” or, “The Sword Cave.”
CeCe stood there waiting with a cold glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a dry towel as Maria stowed the bike and took off her costume.
“Thank you, pretty bird,” Maria said as she took the towel and wiped the sweat off of her face before sipping on the orange juice.
“I live to serve you, but if you really want to thank me, I know of several ways,” CeCe said with a straight face, but her eyes conveyed a sense of surpressed wickedness.
“What would my family say if they heard you talking that way?” Maria put the empty glass next to the keyboard of her computer.
“I don’t know why you care what they think, Maria. After all, they are the ones who started giving you the cold shoulder when you said you weren’t turning your father’s business over to your uncle to run. You were surposed to get married and act like a proper woman.” CeCe points earnestly at Maria as she speaks with a concerned expression on her face.
“I know, pretty bird, but they are still my blood, and their disapproval hurts me.” Maria sits down in the computer chair and starts entering her log for tonight’s events.
“That man who called is some sort of translator who does a lot of free work for both the Hispanic and Asian communities. I called several people that I know up that way.” CeCe picks up the empty glass and then grabs the discarded towel and puts them in the proper place before coming back down to the cave.
“That’s why I hired you, because of all the connections you have, CeCe.” Maria finishes up her log and turns the chair around.
“I thought you hired me because of my good looks,” CeCe replies.
“Well, that was the main reason, but the connections you have are an added bonus.” Maria gives her a bright smile as heads toward the shower.
“After I verified that I tried to get in touch with your cousin, but no one answers the phone, so I called in a favor and had an associate check the residence. She found the home empty and the interior phone line cut. Neither one of us were interested in bringing in the police, so I thanked her and told her to forget all about it.” CeCe assembles a quick outfit for Maria to wear as she listens to the water run.
“Use your contacts to see if you can find what flight our mysterious Mister Shelly is flying in on. Then I will arrange to meet him at the airport,” Maria says from her shower stall as she washes away the sweat and cleans the scarlet dye from her hair. Maria comes back in, nodding gratefully to her sweetheart as she dons the clothing laid out for her.
“Already set into motion, sword girl. Someone will call as soon as they know this Shelly character gets on his plane.” CeCe sits down in the abandoned computer chair as her eyes watch the woman she loves get dressed.
“Why anyone would kidnap my cousin? He is a painter, not someone who would ordinarily be a target for kidnappers. I wish that I was a detective, such as El Petirrojo, so this made some sort of sense.” Maria combs her damp, now-black hair with a brush.
“Your cousin’s work has become quite valuable in these recent years. You don’t think some sinister plot is afoot to make the painting even more valuable?” CeCe conjectures as she spins around in the swivel chair.
“Most of his paintings are in various family members’ hands. Even my uncle would not consider such a scheme. I am afraid that we are going to have to wait for this Shelly to arrive, but I think his answers will just lead to even more stranger questions. Let us go to bed and this time just to sleep.” Maria pulls CeCe to her feet, and the two go upstairs to their bedroom.
***
At the airport in California, Mitch Shelly examines his reflection in one of the bathroom mirrors as he waits for an available flight to Mexico City. His expression is tranquil, even though he has survived an attempt on his life and a two hour run to the airport on foot. He pulls a brush from a small, nondescript travel bag on the counter to comb his hair back in place.
Two well dressed men enter the bathroom. One pulls out a wallet-sized photograph and examines it before nodding to his partner. In a well orchestrated move, the two men lock the bathroom door and then cover Shelly with pistols.
“Our boss wants to teach you a lesson for messing around with his woman. Unfortunately for you, it’s going to be one of those lessons that you just can’t recover from.” The handsome gangster smiles coldly at Shelly, not realizing they have made a case of mistaken identity.
Shelly puts down the brush and gives the two men a slight smile. “Woman? I have no idea what you are talking about. I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”
“The only mistake made is thinking you can get away with insulting our boss by fooling around with his woman,” the gangster with the broken nose says to Shelly.
“Let’s just shoot him here and put him on one of the toilets,” the handsome gangster says to his partner.
“The boss said we were supposed to make this painful so no one else gets the idea they can get away with messing with his property,” the broken nosed gangster replies.
“I really would love to take time out to chat with you both, but I do have a plane to catch. Perhaps if you gave me a number to reach you, we can meet after I come back.” Shelly raises both hands in front of him as he makes this offer. The two gangsters look at each other and then laugh.
“Kid, you got some moxie, and I gotta respect that, but we got our orders.” The handsome one motions for Shelly to pick up his bag so they can leave the bathroom.
Shelly shakes his head slightly before his hands move at blinding speed as he leans forward, snatching the two pistols away from the well trained gangsters like a grown man snatching a lollipop from a baby. “I did try to be reasonable, even though you have mistaken me for someone else.”
Shelly’s hands move faster than the gangsters can see as he taps the two at certain nerve points, paralyzing them. He catches both gangsters and moves them over to the wall before removing the ammo from both pistols and replacing them in their shoulder holsters.
“I’ll make sure to notify airport security about you before you can move again. After all, I wouldn’t want the person you are really looking for to get hurt.” Shelly picks up his bag and gives the two a friendly wave before leaving the bathroom.
Shelly passes by a small cocktail bar, where a man in a dark Italian suit sits writing in a journal. Shelly leaves word about hearing some sort of argument in the bathroom before going to the ticket counter to inquire about the flight to Mexico.
The man in the dark suit waves at the bartender to bring him a drink before returning to his journal.
“My efforts to track down a lead to the current location of Vandal Savage have brought me here, where it was rumored that a criminal network belonging to him was operating. I made contact with one of the underlings using the alias of Michael Waters. I then proceeded to look for sources of information. Fortunately for me, the head gangster was inadequate in servicing his woman. It took time and a great deal of pleasurable effort on my part to satisfy the lady in question. She got me access to the data I required. Unfortunately, this gangster works for a guy named Ape-Face instead of Savage. I arranged for the lady to relocate elsewhere before leaving a note for her former man, giving him some helpful hints in satisfying a woman. I even included some helpful diagrams, just in case he couldn’t read my note. I am surprised that he hasn’t sent some of his goons after me, since I made no secret of where I was going. My plans are to return to Italy and close up my villa before exploring other avenues in finding Savage. I never thought I would be happy that Savage has reappeared, but without him around to try to defeat, my life has been boring and dull.”
The man puts away his pen and closes the journal that he then puts in a briefcase. He downs his drink and gives his reflection a cynical smile. His reflection is a mirror image of Mitch Shelly, but his eyes are cynical.
“Thanks for the drink.” The man tosses a crumpled fifty dollar bill on the counter before rising.
The bartender picks up the fifty and gives his departing customer a big smile. “You come back and see us again, Mister Rivers.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange, but now I’ve got a plane to check in on.” Rivers gives the bartender a mock salute with two fingers before exiting the bar. Rivers walks past Shelly, who is engrossed in conversation with the ticket clerk. Rivers boards a private jet, not knowing that he has just missed meeting his dopplegänger.
The mystery of the man with Shelly’s face and multiple names will remain unresolved as events go forward. In Mexico awaits an ancient mystery that is about to erupt into grave danger for that whole country and perhaps the world…
***
The flight to Mexico City is uneventful as Shelly divides his time between studying a book on the ancient cultures and talking to the few other passengers.
Mitch Shelly exits the plane, bidding his new acquaintances farewell before going through Customs. One of the agents whispers to his comrade, and Shelly gets pulled out of the line to be brought to a secured room. He restrains his curiosity, sensing that the agents will refuse to answer his questions.
An attractive woman enters the room, accompanied by another beauty. She thanks the agents, slipping them both an envelope saying, “This is for your family.”
The agents bow respectfully and leave the room. The attractive woman pulls out a chair and seats herself, while her companion moves into position behind her.
“You wished to tell me something about my cousin, Señor Shelly,” Maria de la Vega finally says after she finishes her physical inspection of Shelly.
Shelly nods his head and tells Maria de la Vega the full story, only leaving out the bits of his other identity. He finishes as Maria and CeCe look at each other. Maria finally smiles at Shelly. “Your story is too fantastic not to be real, so you have our help, Señor Shelly.”
To Be Continued in Menace In Mexico
