Droom

A Marvelous Tale Told In the Mighty Marvel Manner!

Face to Face with…Zamu!

Inside a posh nightclub, a tall man stood on stage. The audience was utterly silent as he spoke. His was tall and had an almost sinister air about him. His tuxedo was clean and neat, with a high-necked cape billowing behind him thanks in part to the club's air conditioning. "And now ladies and gentlemen, for my finale." He spoke crisply and slowly pronounced over syllable. "I am sure you have many other men in my profession levitate objects or assistants, but tonight, every single one of you shall be a part of my act."

A confused murmur went through the crowd as the man held up his hands and closed his eyes. Spreading his slender fingers wide, he thrust them towards the ceiling as one by one, the patrons of the club slowly began to rise up and out of their chairs. Several panicked patrons protested and screamed. With a grin the man, called "Zamu" on the club's marquee, lowered his hands and brought the audience safely back to their seats. "And with that, dear audience, I bid all of you a pleasant evening."

A thunderous applause broke out as he quickly left the stage. A portly man in a cheap hat rushed forward and clasped Zamu's hand. "Great show kid, great show! I got us booked from every joint from Atlantic City to LA! Kid, you're going to be bigger than Houdini and Blackstone combined!" The man almost hyperventilated as Zamu carefully withdrew his hand.

"Thank you, Max, but right now I'm going to meditate in my dressing room. I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Sure kid, sure, just leave everything to good old Max." He gleefully rubbed his hands together as representatives from the major papers all tried to muscle their way past him. "Hold it boys, The Great Zamu doesn't grant interviews. Any questions you got can be answered by me, understand?"

Meanwhile, a small black and white set, Deborah Whitman, otherwise known as Droom, sat enraptured by the performance. "Amazing! I'd swear it was almost real."

"Hardly" The ghostly voice of Anthony Druid interrupted. "A true magician would never lower themselves in such a base way."

"Real or fake, you have to admit that was pretty neat." Deborah countered. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror overhanging the set, she sighed at the sight of the white skinned and ebon haired stranger staring back at her. "So, what is my next great task?"

Druid materialized before her. "Since you seem so enamored of that charlatan, why don't you prove his magic is fake?"

Deborah stood up and stared back at her ghostly teacher. "Alright, I'll do just that!" With a wave of her hand, she vanished. Druid shook his and walked outside. In the months since he first encountered her, things had been progressing. He wasn't sure in which direction he could say they were going though.

The months since Deborah graduated had been difficult. It had taken much convincing, but while she informed her father that she was moving out of town and moving to New York, they actually had been living in a small house several miles outside of town. Using her mystic skills, it had been her will alone that had shielded the structure from any praying eyes. The entire building had been turned into a giant exercise, one of which she was handling perfectly. "She shall be my greatest triumph."

"That's not saying much, is it?" a mocking voice rang out from outside.

Instantly he was alert and raising protective barriers. "Who goes there?" He tried to sound brave even though he recognized the speaker's voice.

"Really Anthony, I can see your return to the semi-living has done nothing for your manners." Damien Hellstorm laughed as he paced back and forth on the front lawn. "Aren't you going to invite an old friend in? I might catch my death of cold you know."

"You'll never take me back!" Druid swore as he focused his energies to form a more solid shape. "I have a second chance, and I will use it! The mantle of Droom will not be sullied again!"

"All this hostility is really unwarranted Anthony. Why, I merely ventured here to drop by and check up on you, nothing more. But if you're going to insult me with your paltry spells and tricks, then I'll just see myself home." Damien mockingly put his hand to his breast and bowed deeply before turning to leave. As a trio of hideous horses broke out of the ground and appeared before him drawing a fiery chariot, Damien looked over his shoulder at the ghostly mage. "I'll stop by again later. Would you prefer it be before or after your unwitting student fixes all of your old tasks?"

Anthony said nothing as the chariot took off and leaving nothing behind but scorched grass and the stinging scent of brimstone. Fading back into mist, the man once known as Dr. Druid drifted back into the interior of the house. "She must not fail! Those tasks that I once did must be carefully reproduced or else this world is doomed!" Fading from sight, the mind of Anthony Druid was still busy as the scent of brimstone and sulfur faded. "She must replicate everything. Only then will the wheels be put into motion, and then the Devil take her."

D

Deborah stepped out into the throng of people. A simple bit of hypnosis and a rearranging of a few atoms assured that any native looking at her would only see an average woman in a simple suit and trench coat. She supposed she could have gone for a more nondescript outfit, but the coat flapping in the cool air made her think of the spies she saw on the movie screen. Tucking her collar up, she walked past the unsuspecting people as she saw the name of Zamu in giant-sized letters on a marquee. Ducking in and wiping the minds of the staff, she walked past the large red doors and stood along the wall at the back of the theater as the magician performed.

The crowd was absolutely silent as Zamu performed various amazing feats of magic. She was somewhat impressed, as each trick was an enhanced version of an old standby. A woman was sawed into four parts, but each part was removed and handed to the audience before being reassembled. Objects were transplanted elsewhere in great displays of smoke and fire. Whole sections of the audience were lifted right out of their seats while strange visions danced upon the curtain before streaking off and dancing in the aisle. For the finale, Zamu doffed his fez and picked up a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am truly honored at your presence, but there is one among you that I must call attention to."

Deborah started to panic as a spotlight flicked on traveled around the audience before passing her entirely and zooming in on a large box in the upper reaches of the theater. "To you, Mr. Rockefeller, I dedicate this next trick." The crowd was silent as Zamu bowed deeply before looking straight at the governor. "For my next miraculous task, I shall run for office!"

The crowd was split over this announcement. Several catcalls were made, while other people merely applauded. Zamu held up his hand for silence as he took a ring from a woman in the front row. "Yes, my plan, how the saying goes, is to throw my hat into the ring." With his fez in hand and the ring in the other, Zamu brought the crowd to a stunned silence as he easily passed the hat through the tiny ring with no effort or damaged to either items. After handing the piece of jewelry back to the owner, he took another bow and left to a standing ovation.

"Amazing, but something is amiss." Deborah thought as she willed herself to appear invisible to the crowd. From her studies, she knew that in order to do magic, something was needed. Things could be bartered or energy manipulated, but everything had to come from somewhere. So where was Zamu getting his supply? His tricks were too good, too lifelike, to be simple illusions.

When the crowd had left, she walked down the aisle and made her way onto the stage. "Odd, nothing's been added." There were no trapdoors or false backings. The stage appeared to be utterly normal, and that was what seemed the most odd. "He has to be doing something, but what?" Still invisible to the ushers and cleaning crew, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a yard of rope. Setting in down, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Uttering words that were used formerly in ancient halls in Tibet, the rope suddenly sprang to the life and stretched out until it reached the catwalks. Climbing up the rope proved to be slightly more challenging than making it living, but Deborah congratulated herself once she touched the planks that made up the walkway. Seeing a skylight, she carefully made her way over to it. Using a simple spell, she opened the glass pane and pulled herself up to the roof. "Amazing!"

Before her was a strange sight. Sticking up from the roof of the theater was dozens of tiny black cylinders. Bending down, she lightly ran over her fingers over the nearest one. She sensed no magic within the odd objects. Her attempts at lifting them proved futile, as the things were stuck fast. "What purpose do these things serve? Are they magnets?" Quietly leaving the way she came, she slid back down the rope and ducked behind the curtain. Seeing a throng of reporters still assembling near the dressing room of Zamu, she willed herself to be unnoticeable and waited.

Z

"Boys, please, you know the Great Zamu never grants interviews!" Max Schiffman pleaded with the newsmen.

"C'mon Max, let us in on it." One mild mannered reporter asked.

"Yeah, what party is he running on? And are we going to have call him Zamu?"

"He can tell you that after he's won the election, alright?" Max was starting to sweat. Out of all the clients he had ever had, none had ever caused him this much grief, but then none had ever gotten him so much money before, either. The crowd was getting too noisy for him, and a curious crowd was never good. "Maybe I ought to follow that hambone's lead and duck out of sight." He thought as he gripped the doorknob and quickly opened it. He dashed inside as flashbulbs went off, but during the momentary confusion, no one saw the pale figure expertly weave her way through the crowd and follow him before the door was closed.

Inside the dressing room was a large curtain. Max, and to an extent Droom, were both catching their breaths and totally unaware of what was transpiring behind the barrier before them. Zamu stood before what looked like an ornate mirror, except that he cast no reflection in the polished surface.

If either of his unwanted guests were to peak behind the red velvet, they might have been in for a shock as Zamu doffed his fez and then proceeded pulled off his face. Under the flesh-like mask, the creature's head was nearly perfect spherical and totally bright red with a small tuff of black hair on the top. Three slits were eyes and a mouth would correspond on a human opened and closed in unison as the alien reached out and touched a hidden button on the mirror's side. The visage of another similar creature appeared in it and a harsh mechanical voice spoke.

"Attention Agent. Fleet is now in position near the planet designated by natives as Saturn. We await further orders regarding your progress."

Zamu clicked the mirror off and spoke into a small disk he removed from the frame. "All is going according to plan. I have made my intentions known and expect total victory. As leader of this planet, the plan of conquest shall continue unabated."

No sooner had he put the disk back in its place then a confused Max shattered his solitude. "Huh? Zamu baby, what' going on? This some kind of rehearsal?"

"Meddling Earthling!" Zamu hissed as he withdrew a large pistol. "My delta rays shall ensure you tell no one of what you've seen." As Max sputtered apologies and staggered back, Droom stepped forward and revealed herself.

With a sudden flash of light, both men blinked as a pale skinned stranger stood before them. Zamu turned with what might have been annoyance on his face and stared at the new intrusion. "What in all the cosmos are you?"

"This world's protector, and you shall not harm it." She flexed her fingers as Zamu turned his full attention to her.

"Bah, more annoyances!" Zamu fired his weapon at a nearby chair. Both Max and Droom gasped when the chair simply faded away. "You see what awesome power I wield? And this is nothing but a low powered weapon. With my technology at my disposal, you puny creatures were convinced my feats were nothing short of magic!"

"Actually, not everyone was totally convinced." Droom offered. Zamu sniggered and trained his gun on her.

"Yes, I suppose there had to be someone on this miserable mud ball who was bright enough to come to the conclusion. Which of my devices did you discover?"

"Actually, I knew your tricks had to be science, because I could tell there was no magic in any of them."

"Magic? Ha! And our intelligence reports said that such beliefs had died out. Earthling, you have given me much amusement, but now I shall send you oblivion." Zamu tightened his flesh glove over the trigger when he noticed that Droom hadn't flinched. "Are you whimpering? Or merely in shock?"

After several seconds, Droom answered. Her voice was even and her tone neutral. "Neither, but I am curious how you expect to harm me with such a pathetic toy."

"Toy?" Zamu grew enraged as he squeezed the trigger. Much to his shock, the only thing that exited the barrel was a cascade of bubbles. "But, that's not possible!"

"With magic, anything is." Droom answered as she raised her hands. Within the span of a second, the gun turned into putty.

"No, stay back!" Zamu panicked as he stumbled backwards. Blindly groping around the table, he screamed when the tabletop suddenly split in two and ensnared his hands. "How are you doing this?"

"As I said before, magic." Droom stepped between the panicking agent and the panicking alien. "Look into my eyes." She commanded. "You will is my own. What were you doing?'

"I was supposed to spearhead an invasion of this planet. My people are warriors, conquerors, but so far we have yet to leave our own system. I was sent first. My goal was to become elected to a position of power on this world, and from there I would do all within my power to dismantle your defenses. My people's fleet is stationed near the planet you call Saturn and are awaiting orders." Zamu's tone was drowsy as he talked. Droom nodded as she released him from her spell.

"Then I shall return you to your people, where you will tell them that Earth has its own defenders." With a furrowed brow and a few gestures, Droom made the captive alien vanish. Turning back to the frightened form of Max, Droom regarded him coolly.

"What, what did you do?" Max whimpered as he wiped his sweat-covered face with a handkerchief.

"I sent him away." Placing her fingers at his temples, she whispered a small spell into her ear. "Rest, and forget this night. When you awake, you will remember nothing of this, nor of the danger that was faced here."

M

Max blinked. Around him was the deserted dressing room of Zamu and a note taped to the wall. "Max," it read, "I regret my decision to run for office. I am hereby retiring from show business. Goodbye forever, Zamu."

Max crumpled up the note and threw it in the trashcan. "Aw nuts. The first big playing client I had in a while and he goes and bails on me. I swear Maxie old boy, it just doesn't pay to give a guy a break in this town."

D

Deborah reappeared before the tiny house. For some reason, the house seemed odd, like she was at the wrong house. "Wait, why am I here?" She felt her mind grow fuzzy as she walked up the steps. Fog surrounded her, as the world seemed to spin out of control.

Druid looked down at the still form of Deborah Whitman, as she lay suspended before him. "I'm sorry to have to do this, but I can not allow anything to interrupt my mission." With a few muttered words and chants, Deborah's form grew slack. A sudden knocking at the door brought forth muttered curses from the ghostly figure. Leaving Deborah in her state, Druid appeared before his expected distraction. "What is it?"

"Merely checking up again." Damien smiled as he teased putting his foot on the first step. "It's just that I am amazed that that someone, who has been given so many opportunities, is so willing to throw them all away."

A sneer formed on Druid's intangible lips. "What opportunity? All I am expected to be is an errand boy for the Powers that Be, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of teaching this whelp, and I'm sick of always being in the shadows."

"Well put, but I hope you'll pardon me if don't take you at your word."

"All I ask is for you to leave myself and this girl alone for the next few months. Her actions will start in motion the next great age, but after that take her. Drag her down to the Pit in my stead and give me form."

Damien, the Prince of Lies, cocked his head. "At last the truth is revealed. But tell me, Anthony, isn't there some Ancient something or other who might object to this little meeting?"

The smile on Druid's lips never wavered. "That old relic? You forget, I studied under him and I can assure you, that right now he's much to busy worrying about his precious 'Sorcerer Supreme' to pay any attention to us."

Damien laughed. Even to a spirit, Druid felt cold as he heard it. "Very well, I won't even try to point out the holes in your plan. In a few months time, I shall come back Anthony, and in exchange for the mystical protector of Earth, I shall restore you to life. Fair enough?"

"With you things are never fair Hellstorm." Druid drifted back into the house. "But I shall honor our pact." As the Lord of Hell vanished, Druid turned his attention back to the still form of Deborah. "I'm sorry about this, I really am." He spoke more to himself than to the prone girl. "The Ancient One used me before, and now he can't or won't help me. You'll do much good in this world, if that is any consolation."

Moving her prone form deeper into the house, Druid released her from the spell. She blinked her eyes as she came to. "What happened? I feel…strange."

Druid flinched at her words. "Nothing happened. You came back from your third assignment, which was a success I should add, and now we have finished training for the night."

"Oh. Good then." She stretched out and absently rubbed her head. "Master, I have been feeling odd lately. Like I'm forgetting something."

Had Druid been composed of flesh, he might have broken out into a cold sweat. "Stress more than likely. Sleep now, and we shall continue your studies tomorrow."

As Deborah nodded and walked down the hall, Druid floated around the room. Had he legs, he would have worn a hole in the rug from his pacing. "I know I'm succeeding, or else the Ancient One would have checked up on me by now." Stopping in place, Druid projected himself across the country to a small apartment somewhere in California. "Already, things are in motion."

Before his ghostly visage laid a man with white streaked temples asleep at a table crowded with blueprints and notes. "Perhaps what that girl did tonight put this in motion, and perhaps not." Returning back to the hidden house, Druid assumed a more solid form. "Those four fools are what will usher this world into a new age. Perhaps the mantle of Droom was nothing more than a catalyst to inspire. Regardless of that, with that out of the way there will be no one looking over my shoulder for the next few months. I can accomplish the prescribed tasks without any interference."

Gazing out the window towards the moon, Druid smiled grimly. "And I shall walk again among mankind. In the strange new world, Anthony Druid shall walk and bow to no man!" Looking down the hall towards the room where the unsuspecting Deborah Whitman slept, Druid shook his head. "No, as much as I loathe her fate, the role of Droom is nothing than an curtain opener. Unfit for anyone with vision, and thus perfect for that girl. With her memories removed, she shall complete her tasks without hesitation, becoming more powerful and all the more susceptible to the same temptation that I faced. That liar Hellstorm plots to have us both, but he shall just have to make do with one."

D

Deborah tossed and turned in her bed. "Why am I so uneasy? Master" She stopped as she sat up. Why was he 'Master'? The title just seemed right, and he hadn't corrected her, but for some reason she felt something. Anger perhaps, but anger at what? Her whole life had been spent for this duty. Then why did she have such images? She recalled boys she liked and girls she didn't; kindly words and warn food. If she had all of this and more, then why couldn't she recall any of it? She thought about rousing the Master, but an inner voice told her not to.

"I know I am doing a great duty for the sake of humanity, but why is there is this nagging feeling that something is missing?" She returned to bed and tried to sleep. "Everything is going according to plan. Why am I worrying? Perhaps I'll just wait until the next mission before I approach Master with my silly concerns."

The end

Amazing Adventures

Well, things took a turn for the dark, didn't they? Tune in next time to see Druid and Hellstorm's plan unfold! Will Droom be able to stop them? Check out What Lurks Within?

This is loosely based on "Doctor Droom Meets Zemu" which was first printed in Amazing Adventures #3 (August 1961). The reprint, "Behold the Power of Zamu!" was published in Weird Wonder Tales #7 (January 1977) also inspired this tale. Credits listed are Jack Kirby (pencils) and Dick Ayers (inks). All rights reserved.

And as always, here's Tiff with fan mail

Great job. Anyone who's a fan of the old school stories (actually,
anyone who's a fan of good writing) should definitely read your
work.
Thanks for sharing.

Hey, thanks for reading. Darci, the job is yours if you still want it.

Until then, take care readers. The world can be harsh and uncaring, but that doesn't mean we all can't have a good scare or laugh every now and then. I admit Dr. Druid does seem like a right royal jerk, doesn't he? I admit, this series may change more dramatically than I thought it would, but there will be some…well something to write home about if nothing else. So remember to Face Front True Believers and send your dimes to the Merry Marvel Marching Society and not the Distinguished Competition, ok?

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Tales to Astonish #4-The Wasp Fails!