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Triple Murder in Riderside, Rebooted


Dr Archeville

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Muttering blackly to himself, Avenger began ripping off pieces of Shark's armor, using the knife he'd picked up earlier from the kitchen for emphasis. "Beginning to grow angry with you boys. There will be punishment. Oh yes. Scarab, their minds?" Avenger wielded the knife with gusto and experience, having stripped Vulture of his spare suit of armor before. Or was that the only time he'd wielded a knife like that? Looking in the vigilante's eyes, it was hard to tell.

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"Well, I was just about as useful as a third elbow."

"Sometimes all you can do is provide a distraction for the enemy, giving your allies the time they need. In combat, a few extra seconds can make all the difference. But, if you truly need to make yourself more 'useful,' kindly restrain and secure these malcontents."

"What do we do with these guys, now? Something big is going on but I doubt these two... three were the heavies."

"Fox was definitely the ringleader of this merry band. Their return to the scene of the crime is particularly damning, and it matches with my visions. At this point, I think we can safely presume that the demon who murdered the Dickson family was summoned by this terrible trio. Their ignorance of the crime indicates that she acted on her own initiative, rather than their orders, in this specific instance."

"But their crimes are legion. They have summoned one hell-spawn after the next, and unleashed them upon our world. They have, both directly and indirectly, taken the lives of innocent people, for their own selfish ends. For their own amusement."

"They will confess all of this to the police. They will cooperate with the official investigation to the best of their ability. They will go to prison of their own free will. They will do these things, because they know the alternative is dealing with us."

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If he'd been on his own, Avenger's retaliation against these young men might have been impressive. But as it was he assisted in binding them, casually pulling off the boys' shirts and using them as bindings to go with whatever his companions came up with. They looked younger with more skin exposed, the injuries he and the others had inflicted on them more profound. "One thing first. Likely they know where Fox can be found. Suggest we persuade them to tell us." He bent down and took Vulture by the face. "Look at me."

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At first it seemed Shark's armor was going to be considerably harder to cut off than Vulture's, as it was covered in tooth-like scales like the skin of a real shark. But as he worked at it, it gave away as easily as Vulture's: a closer examine revealed several un-scaled areas. Or perhaps it was the last bit of Shark's illusions, fading as he slipped deeper into near-catatonic unconsciousness. At any rate, once it is off, Shark is seen for what he truly is: a dumpy, mouse-haired lad, about the same age as Vulture.

Vulture finishes removing his armor, muttering the entire time in a language unfamiliar to anyone's ear. It sounds harsh and guttural, but not like an incantation or anything magical.

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Avenger put his hand on the side of Vulture's neck. "Stop talking. You will speak when you are spoken to." The look in his eyes was flat and implacable, heightened by the blood on his hands and the recent victory over Vulture and his crew. His voice was as cold as death as he spoke to the boy, his grip not quite painfully hard. He'd learned the lessons of being unsubtle; he would not repeat them. "You have taught me the consequences of mercy, Thomas. It will not be shown to you again. Tell me the name of your cowardly friend, or I will do things to you." He leaned very, very close at that. "You know the ones I mean."

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As Avenger had been listening to Vulture/Tom, it suddenly dawned on him where he'd heard that language before: it was Sarrisian, the language of the warrior reptile-people from Galaxy Quest.

"Daniel," Vulture/Tom spat, "That coward's name is Daniel Levinson."

The catatonic/unconscious Shark remained non-responsive.

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Usually, The Scarab's attempt to intrude upon a foe's mind could best be represented, in metaphorical terms, with a cat burglar seeking entrance to a treasury. She wanted to enter, find what she came looking for, and exit, as quickly and quietly as possible, without alerting those in residence.

This time, a better mental picture would be that of a team of riot police on a raid. They blow off the hinges with shotguns before taking the door down with a battering ram, and they enter with their weapons "cocked & locked."

The Scarab crouched down in front of Vulture. She gently placed her fingers under his chin and raised his gaze to meet hers (though her helm completely obscured her features, as always). "We've danced this dance before, Boy. We know all the steps. If you keep resisting, I won't be so gentle this time."

"Ask your questions, Avenger."

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The gates to this particular fortress were very well-barred.

The Scarab shook her head. "Oh no. No, no, no. This does not end well for you."

She concentrated the full force of her will upon Vulture. It was a multi-pronged attack. She assailed his conscious mind with brute force, while simultaneously sending images of his previous interrogation at their hands. She imagined his pain and fear from the previous evening as tiny daggers, which she slipped through the cracks in his armor. Then she showed him new images, of things to come. Of tortures he had never even imagined before. He couldn't possibly be aware that she was drawing on the personal experience of other lifetimes, of pain and degredation she had herself suffered at the hands of Tan'Aktor.

"Do. Not. Resist. Me."

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"Do not deny me." Avenger's interrogation was sharply efficient, with brutality dispensed only at the proper, necessary times. He demanded everything of his captives; who they were, who Fox was, where they lived, how they had accomplished their magical dark arts, and their various other intimate secrets. There were no outlandish threats or unspeakable tortures this night, merely a large, angry man with no face pinning them down and shaking them up if they dared back-sass him. He worked in concert with the Scarab as they went, using her mental powers as the anvil and his sheer terrifying presence as a hammer to break down the resistance of the teens.

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Vulture/Tom spills; when Shark finally awakens, he spills as well... though in a somewhat different way.

The first bit of info the heroes learn is that the name Vulture had spat out -- Daniel Levinson -- was Shark's name, not Fox's; clearly Tom looked down on him. Fox is Adam Mears, a native of Hanover, and obviously the center of Tom's sycophantic obsessions.

All three learned their skills mainly via self-teaching (via books stolen from assorted shoppes and private collectors), though Vulture admitted to having received some early instruction from his brother, who was also a skilled summoner. Danny's magic focused on illusions and mind tricks, which Tom looked down on as being barely a step above stage magic. Fox/Adam is actually a tech-head, with a focus on psionic technologies (like his Cerebral Dampener), but knew enough about magic to incorporate some of it into his tech and how to help coordinate Tom and Danny.

They'd been plotting to become SUPERVILLAINS for many months (because supervillains are so cool), but just needed one good break to get started. When they heard of the murder here, they took it as their que, and were going to start by setting up a protection racket in the "obviously unsafe" neighborhood. They didn't commit it, they're just taking advantage of it.

Shark/Danny answers all questions he's asked in a clipped monotone. He confirms everything Vulture/Tom said, but while Tom had a subtle undertone of "Fox will get me out of this" hope to his voice, Danny's voice rang hollow, the voice of utter despair.

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"Suggest we eliminate these boys from the equation. Then, go to Hanover. Eliminate Mears as well." Avenger wasn't actually planning the murder of anyone, but the more fear these children had right now, the better. "Scarab. You have best relationship with authorities of three of us. Suggest you give boys what's coming to them. Can assist, if necessary." He hoped Scarab's perceptions were acute enough to tell that he was talking about discreetly bringing the boys to the police, seeing as how they were surely guilty of something now, rather than...well, he wasn't sure what exactly, but he had a few ideas.

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"Elimination will not be necessary." The Scarab reached into a pocket behind her cape, pulling out a small device that vaguely resembled an iPod. She pressed a couple of buttons, and the tiny speaker began to blare, replaying the boys' confession. "Now that we have something approaching physical evidence, the police will be able to investigate these claims. Everything will fall into place. And if these boys know what's good for them, they'll cooperate fully with that investigation. Otherwise, the hammer will come down on them. Hard."

"And as for the police themselves, I would be very surprised if they weren't already on their way, with the amount of noise we've been making. I will wait for them."

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"Suggest we continue the conversation somewhere more privately," suggested Avenger, tapping at his temple. Assuming Scarab took the suggestion and read his mind, Jack dared actually think at the other hero, consciously growling even in the private confines of his own head. Can meet you there once these are gone. Make it easier to deal with Mears if he has not had time to plan.

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Whether it was precognition, common sense, or just good timing, Scarab was quite right: as soon as she'd finished talking, everyone could hear the sirens of a police cruiser, and soon they saw the flashing lights.

Tom's eyes went slightly wider with fear. Danny remained unchanged.

The cruiser stopped in front of the Dickson's house, and the young officer within practically hopped out. He was a slim man with sharp features, tousled brown hair, and a perpetual grin; his badge identified him as Officer Grigori. "Um... someone reported a big disturbance. Everyone okay?"

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Avenger disappeared into the shadows between one wail of the siren and the next, leaving his two colleagues to deal with the authorities. It was nothing personal, but shadowy vigilantes like he was pretending to be had no business dealing with the police. Too many friends in the authorities meant someone would take an interest in his welfare, and that meant someone might go digging too closely. Nothing personal, guys.

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"Suggest we continue the conversation somewhere more privately," Can meet you there once these are gone. Make it easier to deal with Mears if he has not had time to plan.

Yes, we'll meet in The Lair after this business is concluded.

"Um... someone reported a big disturbance. Everyone okay?"

"No, Officer Grigori. There are matters most dire, which require your urgent attention."

The Scarab floated up into the air as she removed the memory cartridge from her digital recorder. "This disk contains a confession, implicating these boys in an orgy of violence and crime."

She levitated the incriminating cartridge across the lawn and into the officer's hands, along with the second plastic bag of hair. "They were not directly responsible for the murder of the former residents of the property you now stand upon, but they sought to profit from it. The actual culprit was one of many extradimensional entities they summoned over the last few months. 'Demons,' for lack of a better word. Your forensic technicians missed those hairs when they canvassed the Dickson residence. The esteemed Doctor Archeville can elaborate. There is no point in attempting to link these boys to the Dickson murders in a court of law. But there are plenty of other crimes they can be taken to task for. And with the monster's DNA on file, it is only a matter of time until it is caught."

The Scarab's voice echoed across the lot as she slowly disappeared from Grigori's vision.

"The victims of this terrible trio deserve justice. Their fate is now in your hands."

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"I-" was all Officer Grigori managed to say before Scarab faded away. "Aw, geez, now I've gotta book these two -- I'll never get to the disco tonight in time! Eh, c'mon, you two."

The young Italian officer gets the two into his cruiser, then they're off.

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  • 2 weeks later...

As he left the scene, Slamdance heard The Scarab's voice in her head. You did well, young hero. Thank you for your aid. I am sure our paths will cross again soon. As she spoke, she gently tweaked certain parts of Slamdance's memory. Tiny details in his recollection of the events of the past few days. Nothing he'll miss.

The Scarab met up with Avenger later in her Lair, deep beneath the streets of Freedom City. Having just given him the "guided tour," she brought him into the command center and motioned for him to take a seat at a console next to her. "It has been a long night. But a productive one."

She sat down next to him and turned her chair to face him. Her costume retracted, folding and compressing as Avenger had seen once before into a simple red tank-top. Again, the mysterious armored crusader melted away to reveal a small Latina in her late 20s. "By the time the boy gets home, he won't remember our faces, or my name, or the location of this Lair. I'm not going to burden him like that. Not yet. I can do the same for you. But honestly, I'd rather not. You're competent and ethical, and I think we work well together. I think we would benefit greatly from pooling our resources. And I think you can be trusted. The only real question is, are you willing to meet me halfway?"

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Jack carefully avoided thinking about seeing the Scarab's face earlier, or the nasty taste of her blood in his mouth. Instead he thought about comradeship and duty, about the need for cooperation he'd had so nakedly exposed earlier. He might have killed those boys without another hero around...and for all that he'd wanted to alienate other heroes, he realized today that he needed their help.

He studied her for a long moment, face implacable behind his double masks, and reached up to pull off first the hockey mask, then the ski mask underneath. The face of the grim, gritty vigilante the Scarab had become acquainted with over the last few days turned out to be a handsome, fine-boned Caucasian man in his early twenties with warm eyes and slim features, his luxurious hair running down the back of his neck and his face pale. "Well," he said with a half-smile, his voice entirely different with the mask gone. "now you see me."

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