Post by mauvelantern on Mar 7, 2012 18:19:55 GMT -5
THE SPIRIT in THE GHOST OF CENTRAL CITY
It was a dark and foggy night, the perfect night for mischief of the criminal sort. The police were out and about to keep the peace but even they could not catch every little crime committed in the dense cover. In fact, a patrolman walking the beat by 27th and Eisner did not see three young boys climbing over the gates of Wildwood Cemetery. By the time he had gone to the gates to check for who was rattling them, the culprits were long gone, lost in the maze of tombstones and statues.
The boys, Michael and Ronnie O'Donald and Len Weisman, should have been at home sleeping after a long day of work, but curiosity got the better of them. Rumors of a ghost in Wildwood had been traveling around Central City for the past few months, and while this was not an uncommon occurrence, it did pique the interest of the three young, inquisitive boys. They had heard stories of a specter dressed in blue that left the cemetery every night and came back every morning; how it flew around the city and punished evil-doers. Word had gotten around that someone wanted this phantom and were willing to pay an enormous amount for it, so the boys decided to collect the reward themselves and capture the ghost.
"I hear he doesn't even look like a man," said Len to the O'Donald boys. "He's just a blue blur!"
"That's just a bunch of hooey! He's a man just like your dad n' my dad," Michael argued.
"They say that's how he gets you," Ronnie whispered. "You think you're talking to an ordinary man, and then wham! He turns into a monster and gobbles you up!"
"There's no such thing as monsters, Ronnie."
"There are too, Len!"
"What, like the boogie man down at the mill?"
"Or like the creature you thought was the Krampus?"
"Wasn't that just old Fritz down at the butcher's shop?"
"Shut up, the both of you! I know what I've seen and haven't seen!" Ronnie shouted. His friends were quick to silence him by slapping their hands over his mouth.
When they were sure that Ronnie would be quiet, they let go of him. Michael asked Len, "Ronnie's superstitions aside, how do you suppose we'll catch him?"
"You're the biggest, Mikey, so you're going to hold him down while me n' Ronnie shove this bag over his head and tie him up. When we've got him incap'citated, we're going to drag him to the police and claim the reward!" Len explained to his friend.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Lenny," whispered Ronnie. "I mean, what if the ghost really does eat people?"
"Actually," said a voice from behind them in the fog, "I find little kids to be too stringy."
All three boys jumped at the sound of the voice and ran for cover; Len hiding behind a tombstone and Michael and Ronnie cowering behind a large statue of an angel. They could just make out a large form moving through the mist: tall, shadowy, and covered in blue from head to toe. Whatever it was, man or phantom, it was carrying a man over its shoulders and, to the boys' horror, they could not tell if he was alive or dead.
"It's the ghost! Run for it, boys!" Len shouted as he sprinted away. Michael and Ronnie were quick to follow.
The phantom clicked its tongue in disappointment. "Kids these days. A little fog and they think they see a monster."
Monty Montague awoke with a start. His head was buzzing with pain and the memories of the last hour were a blank. All he could remember was working in his lab, trying to resolve some formulas, and the next thing he knew, he found himself in utter darkness.
"Wh-wh-wh-what?"
Not a single bit of light could be found; it was as if his eyes were still shut. The frightened professor moved his hand up only to hit something wooden and solid a few inches away from him. He brought his other hand up to the wood and shoved it with all his might, hoping against hope it would let him out of wherever he was. With a mighty push, he forced the wood away, only to be hit in the face with dirt.
Spluttering, he yelled, "What is the meaning of this?"
"You looked tired, so I figured I'd give you a dirt nap," a man replied nonchalantly.
When Montague cleared the dirt from his face, he found himself looking up into the sky, framed by massive walls of earth. Raising himself up, he found himself to be lying in a coffin of poor craftsmanship. He looked up at the sky again and found that now, there was someone who pierced the fog, appearing out of thin air. The weary man could not tell who he was, only that he was dressed all in blue.
"I took you to my favorite spot for a little relaxation. You don't have to worry about noisy neighbors; everyone's pretty quiet," the man said with a chuckle.
"Why are you doing this to me? I have done nothing to you," Montague whimpered.
"Not directly, no. Unfortunately, Professor Montague, I'm looking for an old associate of yours, Dr. Eugene Cobra; someone you've worked with on and off for years. And I know that you worked with him just a short time ago. What were you making? Oh yeah, a formula that would place a human in a death-like state for twenty-four hours! Quite the invention, I must say," said the man.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the scientist replied with hesitation.
The man sighed. "I was really hoping that you would crack. Most guys who come here are ready to piss themselves after waking up in that coffin. But if you want to play like that, we can play like that."
Before Montague could get another word in, the man picked up a shovel and began to hurl dirt down into the hole. The scientist shielded himself with his arms and yelled again, "What are you doing?"
"Burying you; I thought that was pretty obvious."
"Wh-wh-wh-what?"
"Relax, Monty, this won't take long. I've gotten so good at this that I'm considering applying for a position here. The only downside is I may have to start paying for room and board if I do. What do you think?"
"Let me out of here, you psychopath!"
"Tell me where I can find Dr. Cobra and I'll consider it," said the man, shoveling in a large mound of dirt.
Montague screeched, "I don't know where he is! I swear to God, Cobra is dead!"
"That's not what I've heard."
The man stopped shoveling the dirt and stuck the shovel in the ground. He looked down into the hole and, for the first time, Montague could make out the man's face. His features were chiseled and handsome, though his skin was deathly pale. Around his eyes was a blue domino mask.
"Word is that Cobra is back," said the man to Montague, "and he's getting his old help back together. I saw his old crony, Gratch, down at the pier the other day."
The scientist scoffed, "Preposterous! Gratch was executed last month!"
A toss of dirt from above silenced Montague. The man in blue asked, "That's what I thought until I saw him down at the docks. What was he doing there?"
"I don't know! I have no idea how a dead man could be alive."
"Really? 'Cause, from what I understand, you're rather good at that. You and Cobra."
The scientist paused and collected his thoughts. "If I were to tell you what I know, even if it was just a little bit, would you let me go?"
"You tell me anything you can about Cobra and I'll help you out," the man promised.
"Cobra is back in Central City," Montague began, "but you already knew this. He came to me a few weeks ago with some new plan, some idea he had concocted since that detective botched up his last scheme. I told him that I was done, that I was going straight, but he told me that if I was to 'change my mind', he could be found in his old lab in Warehouse 14, down by the docks."
Up above, the man asked, "And that's all he said to you? Nothing else?"
"That's all I know. Now, please get me out of here!"
"All right, here you go."
The man in blue grabbed the shovel and lowered the handle down into the hole for Montague to grab. As soon as the scientist had his hands on it though, the man above let go of his hand, dropping the shovel down in the grave.
"Wh-wh-wh-what did you do that for? I thought you were going to help me!" Montague cried up to the man in blue.
"I am, Monty. I'm helping you to help yourself," the man replied, moving back into the fog.
As the man walked away, Montague could hear him say, "Be grateful you got a shovel. All I had was my bare hands."
Downtown at the Central City Police Department, Commissioner Eugene Dolan was hard at work. His desk was covered with files and records on every two-bit crook in the city, from the lowest of the low to the cream of the crop, the ones who got the misfortune of working directly for the Octopus. Almost all these men kept getting out of prison thanks to connections they had, and, gangster or not, it all traced back to the man out in the harbor. The Octopus.
"Used to be disease you had to worry about," the commissioner grimaced. "Now I've got to worry about seafood too?"
"Then I suppose you won't like dinner."
Dolan turned and found his daughter, Ellen, standing in the doorway. She was a pretty young girl; she took after her mother in that regard. Ellen was tall, blonde, and beautiful enough to be a movie star, though she devoted her time more towards finding ways to fix Central City. If she had her way, the commissioner's daughter would see the city changed from the ground up, rid of everything awful that polluted the streets. All the criminals would need to find a new place to wallow in corruption; they would find no asylum here.
"If it's something you made, Ellen, then I think I can choke it down," Dolan chuckled.
Ellen carried a bag over to her father's desk and set it down on the small gap between papers. "I made you a fish sandwich and packed some chopped vegetables in as well. You can't live off cigarettes and coffee, Dad."
"The day I start eating right is the day I quit this job, m'dear."
"What's got you so busy tonight?" Ellen asked her father, glancing over the files. She remembered some of the names from the newspaper but most were unfamiliar to her.
The commissioner let out a puff of smoke. "There was a robbery a couple of days ago at the local chemical plant. The names escape me, but whatever they took, they took a lot."
"Strange," Ellen hummed. "Do you think this has anything to do with the robbery at the automaker last month?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out. We got one of the guys who did the factory job but he didn't say a word; he's still rotting in a cell with his mouth sealed shut. I've been trying to figure out the connection for the past two days and I can't make heads or tails of it."
"Maybe I can help."
The Dolans turned to the window and found that the man in blue was crawling through, easing his way into the office.
"Good evening, Commissioner, Miss Ellen. I'd have knocked, but I needed the exercise, so I took the fire escape."
Ellen snickered. "Good evening, Mr. Spirit. Catch any criminals tonight?"
"Just one. By the way," the Spirit said to Dolan, "you should send a man over to Wildwood. I've got somebody waiting in the unmarked grave next to Walter Wood's."
"Why must you torture these poor souls?" the commissioner asked sarcastically.
"What can I say? I love to put on a show."
"I'll leave you two to talk shop," said Ellen, kissing her father on the cheek. "Mr. Spirit, try not to add too much to my father's workload, okay?"
"I'll try my best," said the Spirit, tipping his hat to the commissioner's daughter.
When she left the room, the masked detective turned to Dolan and remarked, "Sweet girl. How'd a grump like you wind up with a daughter like that?"
"By getting almost all her mother and none of me. But you're not here to talk about my family, Spirit. What've you got for me on Cobra?"
The Spirit paced the room, tapping his on Dolan's filing cabinet. "I pressed Montague like you recommended. He said that Cobra was working out of an old lab in Warehouse 14; it's all we need to go after him. If you say the word, we can take a squad down there and get Cobra right now."
"Not yet," Dolan replied. "I want you to take your time and try not to rush this. We both know what happened the last time you tried to go after Cobra right away."
The masked detective groaned, "Fine, do what you want. But I'm going to check things out, just scout the area."
"No, you're not. The last time you did that, you got yourself killed. I'm not about to be responsible for letting you die a second time," Dolan glowered at the Spirit.
The two men glared at each other before the Spirit broke away and walked to Dolan's desk. He picked up the bag with the dinner in it and walked over to the window.
"Fine," he said to the commissioner, "but I'm taking your dinner."
"Go ahead! Just as long as you stay away from Cobra!"
The Spirit flipped Dolan a mock salute before climbing out the window and descending down the ladder outside. The commissioner gave a weary sigh and walked back to his desk. He opened up the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass.
"And now I'm telling ghosts what to do," he grumbled. "This city gets stranger every year."
While the Spirit was meeting with Dolan, a similar meeting was going on at a yacht in Central City Harbor. The boat, massive and white, stood like a monolith in the still waters of the bay, towering over the other, smaller boats around it. Many cars were parked outside it, on the dock. The cars belonged to some of the most dangerous and most notorious men in the city, from Carlton Condor to Julie Caesar. They were gathered together to celebrate "Maggot" Mahoney's release from prison, a feat accomplished thanks to their gracious host's connections inside the state penitentiary.
Their host, the Octopus, was the only one not out on the deck amidst the festivities. He preferred to remain in the shadows, where no one could see him coming. Tonight though, he had business to attend to. Holed up in his darkened office, the Octopus sat across from Johnny Frost, an informant of his, with two bodyguards standing beside him.
"So, what did you have to tell me, Johnny? You came here out-of-breath, so I imagine it must be something big," said the Octopus, turning to face his informant.
Johnny had a terrible time making out his boss in the darkness. All he could see of him was a pair of purple gloves with three white stripes on the back of the hand.
"Well, I spoke with Lenny Lizard, who said that he saw Gratch, Doc Cobra's old muscle, down by the docks."
"This I already know. Proceed."
"Lenny told me that he tailed Gratch for a while and found out that he was making stops at a certain warehouse. Number 14, I think he said."
"Go on."
"So I decide to tag along with him and see if he's just blowing a bunch of smoke," Johnny shifted in his seat, "'cause he's screwed me over in the past. Well, I get there and I take a peek through the window. Who do you think I see talking with Gratch? Doc Cobra, alive and well as the day I first saw him."
The Octopus took a seat behind his mahogany desk and drummed his fingers together. If Dr. Cobra really was alive, the scientist would need to pay him back all the money he owed him. Never before had a man run up such an impressive debt with the Octopus; he had killed for much less in the past.
"What do you propose we do about this, Johnny?" the man asked his informant.
"You want my advice, sir?"
"Absolutely."
Johnny thought for a second, trying to find the right words to say. "If it were up to me, I'd run in there right now and just scorch the place. Even if Cobra isn't there, it'll be a big warning for him."
The Octopus clapped. "I like the way you think, Johnny; you remind me of a younger, brasher me."
"Th-thank you, sir."
"Now, get out and enjoy the party. Maggot's been looking for you all night."
When Johnny left the dark office, the Octopus rose from his desk and looked to the bodyguards that framed him. He gave them both a nod of the head, prompting the two men to follow right behind Johnny. When the second bodyguard left, he shut the office doors and locked them. Taking one last look at the party outside, the Octopus drew the curtains on the windows surrounding him and walked over to a shelf of antique treasures from Africa. He lifted one, a rosy statue of an octopus, and the back wall slid open, revealing a room lit only by a few stray candles and containing a bed surrounded by thin, translucent curtains.
"Madame, we have found Cobra. How shall we proceed?" the Octopus asked, stepping into the dark room.
The figure on the bed tilted her head up slightly and hissed. "Go to the cobra's den and set it ablaze. Let him and his other snakes scatter into the streets that we may hunt them down with ease. But do not kill him! Bring him to me so that he might pay what he owes me!"
"It shall be done, Madame Octopus."
As Johnny Frost was entering the Octopus's office and Ellen Dolan was delivering her father's dinner, a sinister plot was unfurling in Warehouse 14. Dr. Cobra worked without rest at a nearby table, mixing chemicals of all colors and compounds in the hopes of enhancing and perfecting the drug he had created not long ago. The thin, wiry man poured a beaker filled with a blue solution into a bottle containing a green, bubbling liquid. When the potions came into contact with each other, they turned a strange teal and let out a puff of orange smoke.
"Fascinating!" the scientist said to himself.
"I should hope it is," a loud voice boomed from behind. "I took all that I could carry with me from the plant!"
Cobra glanced behind him at Gratch, who was carrying crates that most men could not even move. He was a bear of a man, straight off the boat from Russia, and he was fairly smart to boot. Not as smart as Cobra, but just smart enough to be useful. Gratch was one of the few people the doctor was able to scrounge together from his last operation, but they were able to bring in so many more thanks to their stunt at the prison.
"Yes, yes, you did quite well, Gratch, and I thank you for all your work," said Cobra, returning to his own devices.
"So, what happens now?"
"Once I get this new chemical just right, we'll be able to move into Phase 2 of my brilliant plan, dear friend!"
The scientist took another beaker and filled it with a luminescent, yellow liquid. He glanced over his shoulder again and asked, "Which reminds me: what have you heard from the engineers?"
Gratch set down his crate and said, "They'll be ready by tomorrow. After that, they'll need until the end of the week to have the units mounted around the city."
"I suppose we can work with that."
"I am impressed you were able to put this together in such a short period, doctor," Gratch said as he moved to retrieve another crate. "After what happened in December, I assumed you'd have stayed away from this."
"Nonsense, Gratch. The misstep in December was just that: a misstep. I simply needed to recalculate and reformulate a new plan and strategy. Besides, if nothing else, the whole thing served as a lesson for me; we should be thankful in that regard! If it hadn't been for that nosy P.I., we would have released a toxin that killed everyone in Central City. We know better now, thus we can proceed with the revised plan," Cobra explained to his assistant.
The muscular assistant wiped the sweat from his brow after moving the last of the crates. "Good thing, that happening and all. I ain't about to be responsible for nothing like that."
"Nor am I, Gratch; nor am I," Cobra replied, pouring the yellow liquid into a glass bubble. The liquid traveled out of the bowl, down some spiraling tubes, and wound up in a sphere the size of a bowling ball. When it made contact with the teal liquid inside, the chemicals began to evaporate and turn into a pale green gas.
The scientist took the sphere and hoisted it above his head, shouting, "Success! I have done it once again!"
"Congratulations, doc," Gratch applauded. "I knew you could do it."
"Thank you, dear friend. Even though I had to work off scraps stolen from all over the city, I have been able to not only complete my formula but perfect it as well! Truly, I am a genius!"
Cobra set the glass orb down on the table again and turned to his assistant. "I need you to visit our friends tomorrow, Gratch. We need to let them know that we are ready to begin Phase 2 of The Smokescreen Project!"
"You got it, boss."
As Gratch left the warehouse, Cobra gazed at the teal gas with a wicked grin on his face. He whispered to the smoke, "Soon, you'll be put to good use, my dear. You are going to help me bring Central City to its knees, and this time, no one will be able to stop us. The reign of Cobra the Great is at hand!