The Sandman

Asgardians Anonymous

by GDL629_19136 and Doc Quantum of the Time Trust

Part 2 of A Thunder God Among Us

Continued from A Thunder God Among Us: Prologue

Part I
by gdl629_19136

“Geez, Wes! Why’d ya make this thing so hard to fix?” Sandy thought aloud, sitting there by himself. Sandy Hawkins had been engrossed in repairing his gas-mask, having only recently found the time since he returned from his adventure as the Sleeper in England.

Poor Aunt Dian was still getting better. Wes was upstairs giving Aunt Dian her daily treatment, and Sandy knew they desired to be alone. Sandy could certainly sympathize with Aunt Dian, having spent several years as a silicon monster. Thankfully Rex Tyler and Wes had finally cured him.

A sudden whiff of smoke roused Sandy from his musings, and he looked up to find… a huge, red-bearded Viking, dressed in animal skins and wielding an immense mallet, standing before him, speaking with a booming voice that threatened to shake the walls of the Dodds estate:

“Good evening, mortal youth! Mayhap this be the abode of Wesley Dodds, the Lord Shaper’s mortal agent?”

Sandy went for his gas-gun and held his gas-mask up to his startled countenance. “It’s you! ‘Fairy-Tales’ Fenton — The Villain From Valhalla!”

Thor tried to explain. “Thou art mistaken, youth… I merely crave an audience with Wesley Dodd–”

“Raise ‘em, mister!” Sandy bellowed as he strapped the gas-mask to his head, his gun pointed at the Thunder God.

Thor’s face flushed with anger, and the air began to seethe with electricity. “Impertinence! Thou hast dared to raise yon weapon at mine countenance, when mayhap we could have conversed peacefully!”

“Save it, buddy! I ain’t buyin‘!” Sandy held his ground. “Especially not from some Bijou opera reject!”

Thor raised his mighty hammer Mjolnir, and lightning danced around the room, while gusts of wind tossed the desk papers around the room like an indoor tickertape parade.

“So be it, then, thou churlish boy! Thor shalt not reject the challenge!!!”

Wesley Dodds came running down the steps wearing his gas-mask. His still-healing arm cradled the wirepoon gun, and he aimed his gas-gun with his right. He came down to the study and found Sandy being swept around by the gale winds being generated by…

“Thor! Stop this now!” Sandman yelled out over the howling of the powerful wind.

The room went dead quiet as the strewn papers glided to the polished hardwood floor. The oaken desk was lying on its side. Bookshelves had spilled their contents, adding to the chaos of the room.

Thor gazed at Sandman, embarrassed at the shambles of the study. “L-Lord Shaper’s agent… ‘Twas the boy who hath started the…”

Sandy furiously roused himself from under the blanket of falling encyclopedias. “Me?!? C’mon, Wes! We kicked his keister once before… we can do it again!”

“Enough,” Sandman interrupted. “Sandy… this is Thor, son of Odin, God of Thunder. The real one,” Sandman explained, shaking his head in bemusement.

Thor dropped to one knee and bowed before Sandman. “My Lord and noble All-Father Odin hath sent me to you, agent of Lord Shaper. Here be thy message, writ by mine father.” Thor produced a piece of ancient-looking parchment and handed it to the Sandman.

The Sandman opened the seal and, gazing at it, asked, “What’s this ‘Lord Shaper’ you keep mentioning? Hmmmm… so Odin’s sent you to me to dry you out, eh?”

Luckily, Sandman’s impassive gas-mask belied his tickled grin, which doubtlessly would have been taken the wrong way by the bombastic Thunder God. Sandy and Thor glared at each other, trading mental daggers at each other.

“Wes? What’s going on down there?” Dian Belmont glided down the steps in her nightgown, alert and awake as she tended to be in the evening hours. Thor gulped as he beheld Dian, who took to Sandman’s side.

“It’s all right, Dian… we’ve got everything settled down now,” Sandman reassured her, happy to see her looking more like herself with every passing day.

“I wouldn’t go that far, Wes… do you have any idea how much work it’s going to take to clean this mess up?” Dian said in a somewhat serious air.

Sandy grinned. “That’s OK, Aunt Dian… we’ve got ‘Björn of the Gassy Winds’ here ta wear the apron!”

Wes and Dian exchanged glances. Now they had two kids in the house to contend with. “You both will start cleaning up. And I want the two of you to start getting along… understood?” Sandman pointed to Thor and Sandy.

Sandy sulked, putting his gas-gun down, and picked up some of the books. Thor lifted the overturned desk, and set it back down properly.

Wes removed his gas-mask and looked at Dian. “This should be interesting.”

***

“What are you doing?” came from the mouth of Dian Belmont as she had snuck down to the kitchen for something to eat.

Wesley had nodded off upstairs, and today she felt well enough to go it on her own. It had been months since Dian had ventured out of the bedroom in daytime, and she crept down only to find Thor bending down near the liquor cabinet. Now, Wes never drank, while Dian would only nip a little every so often… but, as Wes had explained to her, Thor was absolutely forbidden by Lord Odin to drink mead.

Thor jumped up immediately at the sound of Dian’s voice. “Uhh… g-good morning, Lady Belmont, I was merely seeking…” Thor stammered.

“A drink?” Dian asked. “And what would Odin say to that, not to mention the people who supplied the drink?” She arched her eyebrow, glaring at Thor. “I recall a mention of being cast into Hel, correct?”

Thor’s eyes darted from side to side. “B-but, ’twas but for mead only…”

“I think that all alcohol would fall into that category, Thor, as far as Odin was concerned,” Dian replied, bringing her face directly in front of Thor’s. The Thunder God’s eyes glazed over.

Dian continued. “And I think this household has taken enough of a taste of Hell recently. Do we understand each other, Thor?”

“Y-yes, milady,” Thor replied.

“Very well. I want no trouble for Wes or Sandy. We are here to help you. I am here to help you… believe me. I know addiction quite well, and perhaps we can both help each other. All right?” Dian smiled warmly at this childlike god who was in truth several thousand years old.

“Agreed, Lady Belm–” Thor began to reply.

“Call me Dian. If you wish to talk, Wesley and myself are here for you.” With that, Dian turned and walked away.

Thor’s gaze followed her as she paused for a moment by the window. She stared at the rays of sunlight coming through the partially opened blinds, then she pulled them tightly shut and continued back upstairs. Thor nervously closed the liquor stash door while watching the form of Dian glide up the stairs.

“Nosferatu,” he whispered fearfully to himself.

***

“Ha! Boardwalk with a hotel! Pay up, buddy!” chuckled Sandy Hawkins at his hapless co-player.

“Nay! Thou dost asketh too much, Sandy Hawkins! Thou hast already depleted my funds in this mortal game!” replied the visibly agitated Thunder God, who happened to be playing against the biggest Monopoly shark in three states.

“Hey, fair’s fair… Now, since ya already owe me two-thousand clams, just fork over all yer green properties, and we’ll call it even.” Sandy had “innocently” suggested that Thor take his mind off of hooch by trying some other activities.

Wesley Dodds looked up from his journal and shook his head. Dian Belmont rested her hand on his shoulder. “I see our children are getting along well,” she added sarcastically.

Suddenly, a booming round of laughter echoed from the ‘God Of Recovering Inebriation.’ “Oho! Thou hast landed on mine own property! ‘Tis now fifteen-hundred mortal dollars that thou owest the Thunder God!”

Sandy frowned for a second, then his golden disposition returned. “Well, Stormy… just take it outta the money you owe me.”

A shrill noise suddenly erupted from a scale-shaped sand sculpture on Wes’ desk. “It’s a call from Burke; they must’ve found some more!” Wes rose in his chair.

“Sandy… Thor… care to help me do a little cleaning up downtown?”

***

Clem Burke used the near-spent cigarette to light his next. “#@%$^&… Hope this tip is good…” He poured himself another shot from the bottle in his desk drawer.

A small form peered in his window from outside. “Oh… it is, mortal… it is!” The shadows obscured the slightly built man, dressed in animal skins. “That’s right, my stupid, stupid, Thunder God… come to your undoing!”

Then the cackling little man disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

***

Sandman and the NYPD had been making some headway into controlling the vampire population over the last few months, and whenever any possible sightings were found they were given top priority. Burke usually had to keep things quiet, at the behest of his so-called superiors in City Hall, so he usually informed Sandman on the Q.T. One such case was unfolding as the heavily-customized roadster pulled up to the apartment building.

“Geez, Sandman… how come they never hang out at the Hilton?” Sandy joked as he exited the car with the Sandman and Thor.

The Sandman smiled underneath his mask. “Because places like the Hilton draw too much attention,” said the Sandman as he held his gas rifle in his good arm.

“Shall I call down the lightning, servant of Lord Shaper?” Thor interjected, anticipating the thought of finally getting some action, albeit against creatures that he tended to avoid. Dian had given him pause for concern, as she had seemed to come close to being one of the undead.

“No, Thor. We still have the element of surprise. Sleeper, we’re all going to stick together when we go in, OK?” Sandman said to his two companions.

“Just call me Sandy; I’m tired of hearing jokes about my being a mattress. Besides, no one’s ever connected me and my alter-ego.” Sandy held both a gas-gun and a wirepoon, ready for battle. “By the way, I added some holy water to the gas compound; should prove useful.”

Sandman nodded. “Let’s go in.”

***

Erin glared out from the dingy curtains of their rented room. “Hurry!! SSSandman’ssss here!” She and her companion had escaped the dragnet so far and were not about to be caught now.

“Quiet! We have the advantage… there’sss only three of them… and we know they’re coming.” Roger flung the drained corpse down to the floor.

It would be a shame to leave this hotel, they figured, as it had provided the two vampires with a steady supply of fresh victims… And they were being very careful to kill the cattle first, then drain the blood.

“Ohhhhh… I’d say you could use some help, my hapless parasites,” said a voice from the corner, where an evilly grinning, slender man dressed in animal skins could be seen.

Roger growled at the newcomer and prepared to spring.

“Ahhhh-ahh-ahhhh… I wouldn’t if I were you. I’ll fry to where you stand, tick-boy.” Loki then smiled even more widely, unnerving the two undead. “I’m here to help you… as long as you help me. Now listen…” The eyes of the merriest prankster since before the Joker got his first makeover flashed, enthralling the vampires.

***

As the heroic trio entered the dilapidated hotel the dazed clerk regarded them with suspicion. “May I help you?” he drawled lazily.

Thor plopped his enchanted mallet unto the desk, which didn’t faze the befuddled clerk. “Aye… where be the nosferatu thou harbor in thine most foul dwelling?”

The Sandman shook his head. “Very subtle.”

The clerk suddenly grew hostile and reached for his phone. “Get out of here, you kooks, before I call the police!” Sandy sprayed his gas-gun at the hapless clerk, who slumped onto the counter.

“Check his neck, Sandy; if my suspicion is correct…” the Sandman began.

Sandy pulled back the clerk’s collar to find two small bite marks on his throat. “Yep. They must’ve done it to keep things quiet around here.” Sandy then opened a vial of holy water and poured it out onto the wounds, which burned as the clerk jerked up and howled in pain.

“Relax. Better to burn a bit now than be buried, friend,” said Sandy in his best bedside manner.

“Wh-what’s going on here?” stammered the clerk, who was suddenly much more awake.

“Any new tenants with strange behavior around here?” the Sandman asked.

“Well, yeah. The couple up in 515 — they never show their faces all day,” the clerk offered.

“Let’s go.”

Sandy and Thor followed the Sandman to the stairwell.

Part II
by doctorquantum

The two crimefighters and the Nordic god with them burst into the lair of the vampires…

And found nothing.

“Could the clerk have tipped ‘em off?” Sandy said, puzzled.

“He did not have the chance,” the Sandman said, cautiously looking around the darkened apartment. “Besides, they probably saw us enter the building. One thing for sure…” The crimefighter dipped his gloved finger in a spill of fresh blood and held it up for inspection. “…they haven’t been gone for long.”

“Yea, I can still smell the fresh, foul stench of the nosferatu in this place,” the thunder god said grimly. “Verily they have disappeared under the cloak of darkness.”

The Sandman walked over to the open window and saw a trail of quickly-drying blood on the fire escape. “Sundown was two hours ago. They’re bound to be at their peak very soon. We have no time to lose.”

***

It was a simple matter to follow the trail of the vampires in order to discover where they had gone. Thus the Sandman and his two companions prepared to enter the building which welcomed all creatures of the night.

“It be a very house of sin and debauchery,” remarked Thor, “a charnel house. What else could cause that caterwauling, that cacophony of screams and laughter most vile?”

“I’d agree with you there, chum,” said Sandy, patting Thor on the back. “Kids nowadays, huh?”

“Come on,” said the Sandman, who led the two around to the back of the discotheque and in through the kitchen entrance in the back alley, where several people were standing outside and smoking. They hardly looked twice at the trio, who looked no stranger than anyone inside.

The three entered the dance floor filled with drunken twentysomethings who were dancing like there was no tomorrow. The Sandman gestured to the other two to go right, while he went left.

“Hey cutie,” a pretty brunette said to Sandy, “wanna dance?”

“Uh…” Sandy started, looking around. Thor was still walking on, and he seemed to be attracting attention of his own. And the Sandman seemed to be hot on the trail of the vampires on the other side of the room. What the hell, Sandy finally figured, he could blend in with all the dancers and keep his eye open for the undead while he was dancing with this girl. “Sure!” he finished, and began dancing with her.

Thor, meanwhile, continued to stalk the dance floor, suspicious of all these young partygoers and on the lookout for nosferatu. Without realizing it, he walked up to the bar, almost crushing a bar stool with his leg. He looked up. There, along the back wall, were rows upon rows of alcoholic beverages of all kinds, and all colors.

“Mmmmm… meeeead…” Thor found himself saying.

“Hey pal, what’ll it be?” a bartender shouted to him above the din of the so-called “music” playing in the background.

Thor looked back at him, and his eyes glazed over. He almost gave in, but he gained control of himself as he thought of his father Odin One-Eye’s words again, and replied, “I say thee nay! Mead I must not touch, else I be banished from fair Asgard forever!”

“Hey, no prob, man. In fact, we encourage the Designated Driver program. How ’bout a Coke or somethin’, then?”

“…Aye…” Thor replied glumly.

“A teetotaler, huh?” said a pretty platinum blonde who sat closely next to him. “I know you said you can’t drink yourself, but how about a nice fella like you buy a girl like me a drink?”

A brief, guilty thought of his wife Sif the Fair came to his mind, but soon vanished. “Aye,” replied Thor as he set down two gold coins to the surprise of the bartender, who accepted them gladly and, after biting at them with his teeth and finding them satisfactory, pocketed them when no one was looking.

***

The Sandman, meanwhile, was on the second level of the night club overlooking the dance floor. The vampires he sought were not there. Perhaps they had already left, he considered. Perhaps they had already found some new victims and were on their way to a new lair. He needed to search more carefully for tracks.

Minutes later, the Sandman saw a set of scuffed footprints leading into a washroom which had a sign which said “Out of Service,” and he pushed the door open. He reached his gloved hand around to turn the lights on, but nothing happened. Thus he adjusted his mask to see in infrared light and cautiously walked into the empty washroom. He checked one stall after another, but they were all empty.

Plip! The Sandman was startled by a dripping sound at first, but he figured it was probably from one of the taps. He knelt down, however, and saw two dark spots on the floor before him. He looked up.

“RAAAAHHRRRR!” the vampire screamed as he leapt straight for Wes straight through the ceiling tiles above.

The Sandman was startled out of his reverie and flipped the vampire over using a technique he’d learned in the far east as a young man. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a wooden stake and a mallet and reached for the vampire.

THUD! A heavy object fell upon Wes’ back, and he was forced to the ground. He threw the corpse (for that was what it was) off of himself and reached out for the vampire again, but it had already slipped past him and out of the washroom.

The Sandman took a second to confirm that the body was indeed dead and rushed out in pursuit of the nosferatu.

***

“I’m psychic,” the brunette said to Sandy as the two danced. “Want me to tell you your fortune?” she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Uh…” Sandy stammered. He felt very uncomfortable right now. He hadn’t been with any girl since Minnie was killed, and he knew he should’ve been doing something other than dancing, but he couldn’t remember what that was. “You wanna see my palm or something?”

“I don’t need to see your palm to tell you what awaits you,” she said, her eyes still locked on his. “Come closer, I’ll whisper your future in your ear.”

Sandy looked at her and, without much consideration, bowed his head down for her to whisper to him.

The brunette brought her lips to the side of his head and lifted up his headgear, revealing his ear and neck. “I see… a woman in black…” said Erin as she bared her fangs.

A mallet came out of nowhere — Just like in the cartoons, Sandy thought idly — and slammed the vampiress Erin away from Sandy. A second later a wooden stake was plunged through her heart and hammered carefully through this vital organ.

“Keep your mind on your work, Sandy,” said the Sandman as several people screamed at the sight of the writhing undead. New Yorkers were used to this scene by now after so many months, but it still chilled anyone to the bone to see it. The Sandman stopped a still-sober young man dressed casually and shouted, “Call Lieutenant Burke at NYPD and tell them where they can find this vampire.” The man nodded and rushed off to the telephone.

“Wes, I–” Sandy began.

“Not now, Sandy,” the Sandman replied, and pulled him along with him quickly.

***

“You’re such a big, strong, brute of a man, aren’t you?” the platinum blonde giggled as she ran her fingers up and down Thor’s muscular arm with one hand. With the other hand she reached for her glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream and imbibed a mouthful of it. As she swallowed, she closed her eyes and breathed, “Ahhhhh…”

“Ahhhhh…” Thor breathed as well, intoxicated by her beauty and imagining what that drink would feel like falling down his throat. His eyes began to glaze over.

“What say we go back to my place and continue our chat there, huh, big guy?” the platinum blonde said seductively.

“Aye…” Thor replied in a daze, already thinking about how good he would feel if he only had one drink. Y’know, just to take the edge off…

***

Sandy plunged his own wooden stake through the heart of the other vampire, Roger, and looked up at Wes.

“Sandy,” he said, looking around, “where’s Thor?”

“Umm… well, he was with me for a while,” Sandy replied sheepishly.

The Sandman looked around, and a realization suddenly kicked in. “Dammit! This has got to be the worst place in the world to bring a recovering alcoholic.”

***

The platinum blonde led Thor hand-in-hand through the dance floor and towards the front exit. Thor couldn’t help thinking how beautiful her hair was. Just like Sif’s, he thought. Except there seemed to be something dangling by her ear. Thor reached his hand up to her ear and brushed her hair back slightly, but found something soft and wet. He tugged at it to take a closer look. It was a human ear. And, moreover, the hair and scalp appeared to be connected to it.

Thor looked down at the ear. Then he looked up at the formerly platinum blonde woman still walking towards the exit, still holding his other hand. Thor looked back down at the scalp of platinum blonde hair he held in his hand. Then he looked back up at the woman and thought she looked more familiar now. He stopped.

The woman turned around, still smiling that seductive smile, and looked at Thor. Then at the scalp in Thor’s hand. She stopped smiling. “Ah… heh.”

“Lo-KIIIIIII!!!” Thor bellowed at the top of his voice in stark realization and horror, startling the entire discotheque in the process.

The trickster of olde turned on his heels and ran out the exit, but not before Thor had slammed a meaty fist into the back of his head.

“I am the mighty Thor!” he screamed, holding up his short-handled hammer. “I will not be made a cuckold!”

The Sandman and Sandy rushed up to the Thunder God just then and held back. Thor’s anger was legendary.

“Thor? You all right, buddy?” Sandy said.

Thor turned around, fire still raging in his eyes, and almost struck the young man without thinking. His manner soon changed as he regained control of himself, though. “It… it was Loki the Trickster,” Thor finally said. “He… he almost tricked me into the consumption of mead by which I would be condemned to the same punishment he is supposed to be under.”

“Everything’s gonna be OK, all right, Thor?” Sandy said, patting him on the back.

“Our work here is completed,” the Sandman said, “let us return home.”

***

Thor ran his hands through his hair as he finished telling the two crimefighters exactly what happened in the bar and of the involvement of Loki.

“I’ve fought him in the past, Thor,” Wesley Dodds said. “If he’s still out there, he’ll be up to no good. The JSA will–”

“This is my problem, friends,” Thor interrupted. “My responsibility. I appreciate thy help and… and friendship. I did not realize how hard it would be to stop drinking. Tis very hard thing indeed.”

“There’s someone you should talk to,” Dian said as she passed the Thunder God a steaming cup of coffee. “Someone who could show you what true character means.”

“Right,” said Wes, having talked with her earlier on the subject. “He has more experience than the rest of us do through the many lives he’s lived, in each of those lives the hero of his age. Everyone looks up to him, and the JSA has had the honor of his leadership for over forty years. He could teach you a lot about what it means to be a hero again, as I know you once were.”

“Who is this man of valor?” asked Thor.

Sandy grinned at Wes and Dian, who both nodded at him. He turned to Thor and said, “Hawkman.”

Continued in Thunder in Flight