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Silver Aegis

Subj: Silver Aegis # 12 “Further On the Trail of the Ü-Wolf!”
Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2009 at 10:31:11 pm EDT (Viewed 5 times)


Silver Aegis # 12 “Further On the Trail of the Ü-Wolf!”



The valet accepted the reins dubiously, “I’m not sure-“

“Just see that you put the horse somewhere in the shade,” Josie Hart suggested as she placed a fifty dollar bill into his vest pocket, “maybe bring her a nice apple or two.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The reporter linked arms with her companion, a well muscled man whose dress suggested an excursion to a Renaissance Faire, and not dinner at the most exclusion spot in all of Chaney Shores.

“How did you manage to get hold of an invitation to this?” Scott Scoggins inquired as they weaved their way through the slow procession of town cars and sports utility vehicles lining the outside of The Chaney Shores Yacht Club.

“By calling and pretending to be Viola Cassadine’s personal assistant.”

“Who?”

Josie made a sour face, “The paper’s society page columnist. Though a better title for her would be rumor-mongering termagant.”

“I take it you’re not friends,” the Man Out of Time and Place observed as they mounted the wide expanse of steps that led to the club.

“Oh, we’re best friends.”

After being checked in by security, the pair made their way through high ceilinged foyer to the back of the building, a broad mezzanine that overlooked the harbor. There were a dozen tables set up, with each one filled by well dressed men and women. Waiters in white dress shirts passed among them with trays loaded down with a variety of shellfish.

“Curse my allergies,” Josie muttered as she watched a ten year old boy crack open a lobster tail with considerable gusto.

“Over there,” Scott nodded in the direction of the raised dais that dominated the end of the veranda, “it’s the Kiwi.”

Augustus Wadell’s squat form perched atop an ornate high backed chair that had been brought in from the inside. Despite the fact it was evening he wore a pair of black-lensed Windsor glasses on the bridge of his long, pointed proboscis. His trademark mohair suit was protected by a lobster bib, a good thing, because the manner with which he devoured his plate of steamers was messy bordering on the obscene.

“The man to his left is Ron Chaney,” Josie named the middle-aged gentleman in the linen suit watching his guest’s mastication with distress.

“The town sherriff, Landon, is also at the table,” Silver Aegis noted.

“Plus a motley assortment of flunkies, arm candy, and hangers-on. Uh oh.”

There was the sound of dropped chinaware as several members of the club’s wait staff scurried clear of the giant that strode out from the kitchen, turkey leg in hand. His face and arms were covered with ritual tattoos (as was the rest of him, though the traditional lavalava and elei he wore hid those) and his braided hair was pulled back into a thick pony tail.

“The Mighty Toa!” both Scott and Josie hissed the name of Waddell’s bodyguard, who took his position standing behind the Kiwi.

“First time you two met he nearly beat you to a pulp, and back then you had your shiny union suit for protection.”

“What’s your point?” the incognito Shield Flinger inquired with just the hint of pique to his voice.

“If things get out of hand, are you going to be able to take him?”

“Be brave and find out.”

Josie snorted, “Right,” before making her way to the dais.

*****


Wadell looked up from his corn on the cob, “I know you: you’re that busybody reporter from the Times-Picayune. Ronald, how did this wag get in here?”

“I don’t know,” the old man looked stricken.

“I assure you gentlemen; we’re here as invited guests of the club. Josie Hart is no gatecrasher.”

“I don’t talk to reporters. Get rid of her and her country bumpkin escort.”

The reporter grinned, “You can’t just order us out, Kiwi. You don’t own Chaney Shores yet.”

The lilt to her voice when she called him by his nom de guerre further angered the reputed gangster, “Sherriff, arrest her for disturbing the peace.”

“Mr. Waddell, do you have any comment on recent efforts to break the contract between the Stavrosos family and the Chaney Land Trust?” Josie asked, “Efforts spearheaded by your business partner Ronald Chaney III?”

“There’s nothing illegal about dissolving the Trust,” Chaney protested.

Kiwi hissed, “Shut up, you idiot.”

“Harassment is illegal. So’s assault. Then there are the murders….”

Chaney’s face reddened, “What?! You’re accusing me of murder?!? That’s preposterous! Be prepared to hear from my lawyers, and when they finish- Ummf!”

A crook of the finger was all Kiwi needed to compel Toa to action. Moving with a swiftness that belied his bulk, the seeming savage clamped his hand around Chaney’s jaw, ending his part in the discussion.

“Ronald, I’ll say this one more time: stop talking. And you, Hart: call my business manager, Sonja Green, if you have any questions about how the Waddell Development Group operates.”

“Oh, I doubt Miss Green can help me with my werewolf curse questions, Mister Waddell,” Josie stated breezily.

The crime boss’s mouth twitched before turning attention to another source of anger, “What about you, you… tinsel-tressed bohunk? Any additional inanities to add to the conversation?”

Without taking his gaze away from Toa, who had returned to his station behind Kiwi, Silver Aegis nodded, “I have this:

“Ringa pakia!” he shouted while slapping his hands against his thighs.

Next he puffed out his chest“Uma tiraha!”

He bellowed, “Turi whatia!” as he bent his knees and “Hope whai ake!” when he followed through with his hips.

“Waewae takahia kia kino!” and then stamped his feet madly.         
            
            
            
            
    Ka mate, ka mate        
    Ka ora' Ka ora'        
    Ka mate, ka mate        
    Ka ora Ka ora "        
    TÄ“nei te tangata pÅ«huruhuru        
    Nāna i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā        
    Upane... Upane        
    Upane Kaupane"        
    Whiti te rā,!        
    HÄ«!



        


        
The performance enraged both criminals, and they reacted as their natures would dictate.

“How dare you?! HOW DARE YOU!?!” the Kiwi sputtered.

RRRRRIIIIIPPPPP!!! – was the sound of Toa tearing away his tunic before jumping on the table. Then, eyes bulging, flecks of spittle flying, he performed his response.

“Le Manu Samoa ia malu ona fai o le faiva,le manu samoae ia malu ona fai o le faiva
Le Manu Samoa lenei ua ou sau
Leai se isi Manu oi le atu laulau
Ua ou sai nei ma le mea atoa
O lou malosi ua atoatoa
Ia e faatafa ma e soso ese
Leaga o lenei manu e uiga ese
Le Manu Samoa
Le Manu Samoa
Le Manu Samoa e o mai I Samoa Le Manu!”


“Toa! Pupuni!” Augustus scrambled to stop his minion before he vaulted onto the man who had agitated them both.

Sherriff Landon finally stopped eating his chowder to comment, “What the heck was that?” he demanded, “Some kind of nutty foreign take on West Side Story?”

“It was a challenge, no, a threat! Arrest him!”

“Er, for what? Dancing like a crazy person? And should I arrest your man Queequeg too?”

“Pfah! Never mind!” Waddell snapped his stubby fingers, causing his retinue to gather up their belongings and depart, “We will continue our discussion later, Ronald. Toa, Sau!”

The big Samoan reluctantly obeyed, though he matched glares with Silver Aegis through his egress.

“Well,” a waiter rubbed his neck nervously, “That was awkward.”

“I don’t know. He did pretty well with the choreography, though his pronunciation could use some work,” Josie admitted, “Where’d you learn the haka, S.A.?”

“1959, after the All Blacks made me an honorary member for stopping Gangster Zero from rigging the Bledisloe Cup tournament,” Scott Scoggins replied smiling, giving yet another example of his breadth of experience.

*****


Page 11



Panel One(upper left): [Torpedo kicks hammerhead’s snout, driving it back]
Monologue Box: “Sharks. I never understood how Ü-Wolf controls them. Was it science? Sorcery?

Panel Two (overlapping center): [Torpedo discharges harpoon pistol into a second shark, a plume of blood emits from its side]
Monologue Box: But does it really matter?
Box #2: All I know is I’ve never been able to beat him. Maybe he’s right.


Panel Three (lower right): [Shot of Ü-Wolf on haunches, watching melee from barnacle encrusted smokestack of sunken ship]
Monologue Box: Ü-Wolf is the ultimate predator. A chimera of ancient superstition and cutting edge technology. Meanwhile I’m just a guy from Dullard’s Corner who lucked out tinkering in his uncle’s garage.

Page 12 (nine panel spread, three across, three down



Panel One: [Torpedo grabs one shark by the tail and swings it into another].

Panel Two: [Torpedo slams shark into ocean floor].

Panel Three: [Torpedo fires shoulder mounted net launcher into a charging hammerhead, NOTE: all sharks should be hammerheads]

Panel Four: [Torpedo electrifies net and shark]
Monologue Box: But maybe tonight-

Panel Five: [Torpedo fires harpoon pistol]

Panel Six: [Close up of Ü-Wolf’s eyes narrowing in consternation]

Panel Seven: [Harpoon hits target: a burlap-wrapped object about 2 meters long and .5 meters wide]

Panel Eight: [Harpoon line goes taut as Torpedo drags object to him]
Monologue Box: -with a little help from the Almighty-

Panel Nine: [Wrapping around object starts to come apart, exposing tines of silver trident]
Monologue Box: -that’s enough.

Page 13(Pin up)



Panel One: [Torpedo swimming and driving trident into Ü-Wolf’s chest. Wolf arches back and howls. Trident should be drawn pinning him to smokestack.
Monologue Box: Forged in the Gothametropolis shipyards by our country’s finest metallurgists, and blessed by Cardinal O’Dungey himself. I add a little prayer hoping that this weapon will put the beast down.
Page 14 (Pin up, with small insert panel in lower right)



Panel One: [Torpedo rocketing upwards, while below Ü-Wolf is still pinioned to the ‘stack, limbs floating listlessly]

Panel Two (insert): [show Wolf’s lifeless red eyes]
Monologue Box: It is.


*****


“That’s how it ends? Captain Torpedo just… left him there?” Desmerelda wondered aloud as she finished reading the computer pages.

“Well, yes. He was wounded himself, you see, and running out of air,” Albert Danning said in the hero’s defense, “but he returned later, with other divers, to make sure Ü-Wolf was in fact dead. Not truly knowing the nature of Räuberischer’s abilities, they left him impaled on the trident. I think they mixed up their mythologies a bit, confusing werewolves with vampires, but given his power it paid to be prudent.”

“So they did leave him!” the gypsy girl shook her head, “How can we know if he is still there? If he’s still dead?”

“I imagine the Navy or some such organization checks up on his remains. I don’t know. I do know that the site is supposed to be classified. The OSS expunged the coordinates of their battle from the record.”

Desmerelda picked up on something the man said, “Supposed to be? Does that mean you know where it is?”

“Well,” Albert gave a sheepish grin, “Through my research, I was able to determine the general area where his body is supposed to be.”

“Oh, please, Mister Danning, you must tell me. For the sake of my people, we must know if the monster is dead or alive.”

Danning looked into those soft, beseeching eyes for a moment, then relented, “Very well. Though I’m not sure what good it will do, I will tell you were you can find-

“THE TOMB OF THE Ü-WOLF!”


Next: The Kiwi goes cuckoo, and Silver Aegis dives into danger. Plus Josie and Desmerelda have a showdown involving simple geography, and swimwear! Out soon.