CHAPTER FORTY-ONE (part one). In which the Underlord makes a significant change to his plan; and snow brings worries.
The doglizard, despite the bone-numbing chill of the deepest part of the studio caverns, was beginning to sweat. It had taken far too long for him to find a couple of the mole-people with claws big enough to dig around the immovable chunk of melted metal fused into the walls and floor of the passage to the control hub...and then longer still to figure out whether they understood him or not. Finally he'd managed to squeeze through the new tunnel, coughing and sneezing as he was pattered with loosened dirt, only to encounter a brooding underlord who was not at all pleased by the various delays. His crest smarting and tail so bent he was positive it was broken, Eustace cowered in the corner of the control room nearest the door while his lord and master raged.
"I cannot abide this degree of absolute incompetence! How dare you even approach my presence again after all this! You've compromised the security of this center with your silly mole-tunneling, you can't find the strike team, and you can't even count right!" the underlord roared; Eustace cringed as another server rack, squealing its battery-disconnect alarm, barely missed his nose and crashed into the door, putting yet another dent in the reinforced steel plates. "How dare you even consider yourself part of the Glorious Monster Race! You imbecile, you reject, you walking accidental hatchling!"
Eustace resented the implication that his mother had hatched him, instead of burying him under a smoldering mound of burning garbage as was customary for all doglizard eggs, but he kept silent. The boss yelled and threw a few more things. Eustace angrily reflected that he could too count: thus far, by his estimate, the underlord had wreaked approximately sixty thousand dollars' worth of damage in the past five minutes. And who would be expected to clean it all up? Me again. He flinched when a meaty, clawed hand grabbed a power cable at the foot of the throne, relaxed as he realized the boss wasn't reaching for him, and then barked in surprise when the underlord looped the cable like a lasso, caught Eustace's head in it, and yanked him close enough to choke personally. "No more excuses!" the boss shouted, and the glass in some of the older monitors shuddered.
"Ergh...glug...your...agh...your awfulnessss..."
"What? What are you saying, you useless cur?"
Struggling to loosen the cable around his scrawny neck, Eustace choked out, "There...there issss ssssome good newsss, m-my liege..."
"Really?" Disgusted, the boss let go of the cable, and Eustace dropped, gasping, to the hard floor. Red eyes narrowed. "Do tell."
Understanding quite well that his next few words ought to be very carefully parsed, Eustace stammered between heaving breaths: "The...the tally...for the prissssonersss hasss reached thirty-one, your frighteningnesss..."
But the underlord only snorted. "Useless. You are useless. Perhaps you'd make a decent footstool. Or a lampshade, if I stretched your skin tight enough."
"My lord!" Desperately, Eustace fetched the clipboard he'd brought, and offered it in trembling claws. "S-ssssseee for yourssself! I verified the count persssonally!"
"And had you answered my summons five hours ago, you would have learned that I no longer wish a mixed group of sacrifices!" the underlord roared, the wind flattening Eustace's whiskers against his jaw.
"No longer...?" the doglizard gulped, shaking. "B-but my liege! You sssaid –"
"Muppets! I want only Muppets!" The dark lord fell back in his massive chair, strong hands squeezing the armrests so hard they began to creak. "The staff can eat the rest of the prisoners after the Grand Ascension if they like, but for the thirty-one sacrifices, let me have only those of felt and foam! Have you seen how those fools aboveground dote on them, how they chatter endlessly, mindlessly about them? Talk shows! Late-night hosts! Movie critics! Twittering birdbrains! All they blather about is Muppets!" The underlord quieted, scowling, and Eustace was deeply glad he'd never actually seen the master's face in good lighting; lesser monsters had fainted dead away at the image, 'twas said, and the effect was twenty times as bad when that horrible face frowned. "I wish my first act as overlord of this city to be to see them all extinguished!" To illustrate, a jet of flame suddenly shot out of some concealed lighter in the master's chair, setting Eustace's tailtip afire. He yelped, but before he could react further, the underlord jerked him into the air by his tail, and with bulbous dark fingers squished the fire out.
"That will be wondrousss marvelousss, my liege," Eustace offered, struggling not to pass out as all the blood rushed to his hard-boned head.
"It will be glorious, Eustace. It will show the sniveling little ants crawling on the surface just how powerful I am, how utterly merciless...how contemptuous of their precious optimists. Their world is all bread and circuses, Eustace." The low voice paused; Eustace froze midway up in his attempt to grab his tail and hold himself in a circle, which would at least have righted his poor head. "Do you understand what that means?"
"Er...umm..."
"Idiot," the boss rumbled, but before he opened his hand to drop his underling to the floor again, the doglizard spoke up.
"It isss a referensssse to the lasssst daysss of the great Empire, when the Romansss paid more heed to their gladiatorsss and their fasssshionsss than to the corruption and decay inherent in their political processs...um...yesss, my Caligulanesss?" The underlord yanked Eustace closer, and the doglizard shut his eyes, clenching his whole body against the beating sure to follow for his impertinence. "Eep!"
After a long, tense moment, the underlord murmured, "Perhaps there is a sliver of potential left in you, worm. Perhaps there is after all." Abruptly, he released his flunky, who crashed to the floor in a tangle of tail-coils and bent whiskers, shakily relieved. "Do you comprehend now why it is better for me to focus my wrath upon those who are most beloved in the eye of that simpering, television-sucking populace? I must have thirty-one Muppets, all killed right at the moment of my transformation, to ensure the greatest possible negative effect on the drooling cowards above! We will sacrifice them all, right there before the cameras, right there for all the world to see – and to watch in horror as their new lord and master begins the true Age of Monsters upon this world!"
"Hail, the underlord!" Eustace whimpered, still trying not to faint. He tucked his snout under his tail and tried a few deep breaths, his cold heart pounding erratically.
"Hail, indeed," the underlord growled. "We shall fall upon them like a storm of hail – like a plague of locusts, devouring all in our path! We shall rip them arm from leg and taste the sweet blood in their pathetic foam!"
"Ripping, devouring," Eustace moaned, slowly rocking back and forth. "Yesss, my liege..."
The underlord sighed, calming slowly. He regarded his flunky with disgusted amusement. "How many Muppets will we have within our grip on Halloween night?"
The doglizard fumbled for the clipboard, and peered one way and then another at it, trying to get at least one of his eyes to focus. "Er...ahh...I sssee twenty of them are on the final lissst for the charity event..."
The boss steepled his fingers, musing. "And you said those two lab-coated fools will be there as well, running the silly horror-house gags? Twenty-two...we already have Blyer, and I am told another felted creature has been assisting Carl in his culinary attempts...twenty-four..."
"Sssshall we sssacrifice the vet, my dark sssslobberinesss?"
The underlord considered it. "No, not yet...we may require him if his serum does not perform as it should...which reminds me." Touching his Gruetooth headset, then one of the controls on the board of myriad buttons and sliders before him, the boss snarled, "Van Neuter. Your time is past. Stand before me and be judged."
A hurried knock at the control room door made Eustace jump, and even the boss's head jerked in that direction. A muffled voice chirped from the other side, "Right here! I've been waiting – you sounded a little busy! Didn't want to be rude, heh heh!"
Irritated, the underlord waved a hand at the door, and Eustace scurried to open it. The tall-headed, oddly bandaged veterinarian popped inside, grinning like a fool and waving a large syringe much too cavalierly for Eustace's comfort. "Here it is! Here it is! Oh, your dark panties in the bottom of the sock drawer won't have to be in a twist any longer, sir! The effects arewonderful! The last beneficiary of the serum burst out in rows and rows of wriggling little legs like a caterpillar on Xanax, all happy-crawly! And the fur! Oh, you won't be disappointed, your creepiness!"
"I am relieved to hear it," the underlord growled, taking the syringe from Van Neuter and studying the gleam off its tube in the myriad tiny red lights of the control center. "You had me convinced I would have to eat you organ by organ to teach you not to disappoint me, Van Neuter."
"Er...uh, no, no! You can always count on me for all your bizarre transmogrification needs, sir!" The vet beamed, then noticed Eustace. "Oh, hello! Say, your whiskers look a little out of whack...want me to fix those for you?"
"No, no!" Eustace exclaimed, backing away.
"Stay a moment, Eustace," the underlord rumbled, and the doglizard froze, wincing. Those red glowing eyes turned back to Van Neuter, who seemed a little discomfited by the stare despite his habitual obliviousness. "Doctor, do you think you could make this wretch break out in festering boils?"
"Oh, certainly, your growliness! And...um...you might want to grab a cough drop or something, the chill down here is awful and your throat really sounds—"
"There have been no side effects to the serum?"
"Er...n-no! None at all! Everything's perfectly splendiferous! You'll love how crawly it makes you feel, I promise!" Van Neuter assured his boss, his head bobbing nervously on his skinny neck.
"Very well. You may go."
Van Neuter looked disappointed. "Oh. You're...you're not going to...I, um, I really wanted to watch..."
The boss rumbled, then chuckled, then broke into a chortle so hideous that Eustace clutched his own tail in abject fear. "Well then! As you wish, Doctor...you may join me to witness the Grand Ascension on Halloween night. We shall hold it in the ballroom of the hotel above the studios. It will be precisely at 10:31...do not be late." The underlord laughed again. "I shall make certain a seat front and center is reserved for you!"
"Why thank you very much, your generousness," Van Neuter said. He elbowed Eustace smugly on his way out. "See? Some people appreciate my work!" The vet tromped down the tunnel, whistling La belle dame sans merci.
Eustace stared after him, incredulous. "Eustace..." The flunky cringed, immediately drawing his tail and head in. But his master only growled, "If this formula works as it should, I will make certain the masses know that idiot helped bring it about...and then turn him loose on the surface to fend for himself among them. However...should he have failed me...he will be the first one I consume."
"Y-yessss, my liege," Eustace muttered. He ventured a hopeful fact: "It...it appearsss from our sssstudio rosssster and the MADL event that we are quite clossse to having enough Muppetsss to sssacrifissse, your sssscarinesss..."
"How many?"
"Twenty-nine...if you are including that daredevil sssshow imbesssile."
"Ahhh yes. I had almost forgotten him. Yessss..." The underlord's hiss turned into a chuckle. "How delightful. Make sure he is brought to the room at the correct time."
"But...but what if he doesss not ssssurvive the lassst contessst, my lord?"
The underlord considered it. "Then use the fungus. But Eustace...I am holding you personally responsible for Gonzo the Great winning the contest. Should he die before the Grand Ascension...I will enjoy watching your scales bubble and fill with painful pus. Do you understand me?"
"Yessss my lord! Absssolutely my lord!"
Before Eustace could back out of the room, a low, ominous chime sounded. The boss turned his chair to face one of the screens on the wall above, and typed quickly on a keypad. All of the screens switched to a view of the local weather radar; heavy clouds covered the map. "Ahhhh! At last! Ah, I knew my pet had predicted correctly! Observe, wretch!" Confused, Eustace stared up at one screen, then another.
"Er...rain, your globbery wetnessss?"
"Not rain, you imbecile...snow! SNOW! Ahhh hahahahahaha!" The doglizard watched in absolute bafflement as the underlord's heavy hands swept across master controls. Chirruping smugly, the fat, venomous wooly caterpillar crawled into the underlord's lap, purring as he stroked it roughly. "Yes, yes, my pet! Good girl! She knew, Eustace! She knew right when the first snow of the year would arrive! Ah ha ha ha ha! It begins at last!" Punching an intercom button, the dark lord roared, "Open the storm door! Release the humbling signal!"
He continued laughing, caught up in horrible mirth which shook the whole room. Squealing in terror, Eustace gave up all pretense of submission, and fled for his life along the rough-dirt tunnel.
"Hey, Gina," Alan called from the green room.
Intent on adjusting the shutters on a large Fresnel hanging from the catwalk, Gina only grunted. She took a better grip on the rusty equipment and tried again, finally succeeding in bending one shutter inwards an eighth of an inch. "Grrrraaaaahh! D—it!" Angrily, she plopped from a crouch to a sitting position on the grid, brushing sweat from her forehead.
"Gina?"
Annoyed, she yelled down, "What?"
"You need to come see this!"
"What, did Mike show up to help after all?" Gina had spent all this Saturday morning finishing the lighting hang and checking the instruments which would be used tonight for the MADL award ceremony, rough-focusing them at the platform in the center of the black-box theatre space and down at the various floor areas where the tables would be set up. She'd insisted on running the light booth tonight, since that would at least keep her isolated from the lawyers and other riffraff. Of a scheduled crew of three other people, only Alan had shown up, the others having claimed the weather looked bad or they suddenly had family problems. Gina was not a happy camper.
"Just...come look!"
"Alan, I really don't have time for this," Gina yelled back. "I have a dozen more lights to rough-focus and shutter down before those guys get here...and it's already..." She checked her watch. "Twelve-thirty! D-, have I been here that long?" She cast a dismayed look around at the various other lighting instruments she still had to adjust.
The young man with chestnut hair spiked every which way and thin round glasses popped into the theatre space from the doorway to the green room. "No, seriously! We might not evenhave to do the stupid show tonight! Come look!"
Groaning, her legs stiff, Gina rose and trudged along the catwalk to the lighting booth, then downstairs to the house entrance, then across the painted floor to Alan waiting, grinning inexplicably, by the exit. "Check it out! This is so cool!" he exclaimed.
She followed him through the green room to the back door. "Geez, that's cold, Alan! Don't leave the door open – our heating bills are high enough as it is, and I don't need another lecture from Mr Stingyfingers about keeping costs..." She trailed off, struck silent by the view outside.
Alan giggled at their pet name for the Sosilly's owner, and gestured out the open door into the courtyard formed by the surrounding buildings. "Snow!"
"Yeah, I know what it is, Alan," Gina muttered, then simply studied the thick, wet flakes shooting down. A strong gust battered the trees in the courtyard, making Gina draw back and shut the door. She continued to peer out the small window set in the top of the door, thinking.Holy cow, that's a lot of snow! It's nearly a blizzard! Already, the small trees had a coating of thick whiteness on their still-leafy branches. As the two techies watched, an overloaded branch cracked off the ginkgo and tumbled to the paving. Gina shook her head. "This isn't good."
"Are you nuts? This is great! No way will they do that stupid awards thing tonight in all this!" Alan argued. "Who the heck is gonna want to come out in this storm just to hear some boring speeches and eat spaghetti? We can go home!"
Gina shook her head. "Don't count your chickens yet. Hang on." Retreating to the now-chilly lounge area of the green room, she pulled out her cell phone and the slim wallet hooked by a chain to her black jeans. She found the lawyer's card, and dialed the number. "Hello, I need to speak to...oh, it is you, Mr Bland. This is Gina Broucek, at the Sosilly Theatre. Yes, we're...we're looking forward to it as well. Uh, Mr Bland, have you looked out your window?" The sky was so dark, the wind so fierce, she was certain this snowstorm must cover the entire city...probably all five boroughs and into Jersey and Pennsylvania.
The lawyer replied, in a tone of annoyance, "Yes...is there some problem?"
"I...I just wondered if you were going to call off the awards ceremony tonight. I mean, with weather like this, there's no way anyone is going to want to –"
"Miss Broucek," Bland said firmly, "I am quite sure all of our distinguished donors are eager to attend tonight, and a little wet stuff is certainly not going to deter them!"
Astounded, Gina looked back out the window again. The snow blew nearly sideways, and the howl of the wind was deep and strong around the building. "Mr Bland, I really don't –"
"Miss Broucek. I understand, the nonfelted may be put off by a little precipitation, but I assure you: the awards will go on as planned, and you will be impressed at the level of dedication weall give toward the cause of better Muppet representation in all levels of society! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much to do before tonight. Oh—where'd I put the number for those table supply people again?...Excuse me, won't you? Good-bye."
Gina stared at the phone a moment, then frowned and put it back in her pocket. Alan's face fell at her expression. "They're not...they're not canceling? Or...or rescheduling? They're really gonna do their dumb ceremony tonight?"
"Yep," Gina said shortly. "Now get back to work on those platforms. Try to tape down all the dropcloth edges so nobody trips, and then start on the sound cables. These are lawyers, so make sure everything is up to OSHA specs."
"Maaaannn," Alan complained, shoulders dropping.
Gina sighed, and went to the 'fridge for the bottle of water she'd stashed there earlier. She shivered as she drank, and decided coffee was a better choice. The green room only had an old drip maker, but she started a pot in it anyway, then thought of Newsie. He'd been so disappointed last night; after the show, he'd been largely uncommunicative, and Gina knew it wasn't just because of the headache he'd suffered when that hail of rubber bouncy skulls had fallen on him during the News Flash. (Personally, she thought the line "the school superintendent said he will make no bones about denying the allegations of improper use of biology lab property" had been fairly innocuous, but a hundred hard rubber skulls proved that nothing was off-limits for a journalistic catastrophe in her poor Newsie's case.) She knew how much he wanted to investigate the sewer monsters...but the thought of something worse happening to him...
Shaking off a chill, Gina called home while waiting on the coffee to brew. A very reluctant-sounding Newsman answered. "Hello."
"Sweetie, it's me." She paused; she could hear his unhappiness in the silence. She sighed. "Cutie, listen, that ridiculous lawyer says the show is still on for tonight...so it looks like it's going to be a really long day here. It's just me and Alan, and we have to strike and re-set all the stuff these guys are using after their thing, so I don't know how late I'm going to be. How...how are you doing there?"
"Fine," Newsie replied dully.
"Pretty hard snow, huh? And it's not even winter yet," Gina said.
Uneasily, Newsie said, "Gina...it's a white storm."
"It definitely is! Make sure you stay warm, okay? As long as the power stays on, we should be fine here –"
"No, Gina...it's a white storm. A freak snowstorm, out of season! Just like Ethel said!"
Gina paled. Oh frog. She hadn't even thought about that. "Have you...have you tried the Mayor's office?"
"All the lines are busy! He must be flooded with calls about the storm," Newsie said disgustedly. "No one's paying attention! She said it would start in a white storm! Whatever those horrible things are planning, this is the start of it! We have to do something!"
"No," Gina said firmly. "Newsie, no. Do not go down there! Look, I...I know you asked your friends for help last night."
"You...you do?"
"Yes. Rizzo mentioned it while he was stealing some of my popcorn. He said you asked Floyd for Animal's help with something."
At the apartment, Newsie closed his eyes in a scowl, sinking onto the bed. He'd come in to figure out a better way to secure the bedroom window without nailing up boards. Gina hadn't given any indication last night that she knew he was trying to rally more Muppets for a reconnaissance into the tunnels. Why hadn't she said anything? Answering his unspoken question, Gina spoke softly, "Well, it...it was clear they said no, because you didn't say anything about it to me, and I know you would've argued for it if you thought you had enough backup to try again." She sighed. "Aloysius...please don't. Don't let it drive you crazy like this. You are not the defender of the city, you know; you're just...um..."
"Just a stupid little reporter who doesn't even have a microphone to call my own anymore," Newsie snapped. "Just a helpless...powerless..." He choked up.
Gina winced. "Sweetie, no! Don't do that to yourself! Please...you're my hero, my love; don't feel like you have to take this all on by yourself!"
"Nobody else is doing anything!" Newsie shouted, then felt ashamed. "I'm...I'm sorry," he muttered.
Worried, Gina paced the green room, glancing out at the thick sheet of snow blurring the scenery. "Newsie...my love...please. Please calm down. Yes, this is serious, but working yourself into a frenzy isn't going to solve anything, okay?" She waited, hearing him sigh, and tried to think of the words which might comfort him. "Aloysius...I love you. I love you more than anything. And if you went down there, and never came back...I...I can't even contemplate that, okay?" She brushed back the tears trying to form, angrily glaring at the snow. "Just...don't. Promise me you won't. Look, what if..." she took a deep breath, regretting it already, but spoke her thought aloud: "What if I came with you? Tonight?"
"You – what?" Startled, Newsie shook his head vehemently, forgetting she wouldn't see it over a phone. "Gina, no! Absolutely not! I don't want you hurt!"
"And I don't want you hurt. Understand?"
"Well, but...but..."
"And I love that cute fuzzy butt, very much. So wait for me. When I get home tonight, we will gear up, and...and see what we can find out. Together." Gina sighed. "Okay?"
Newsie began sniffling. Trying to keep it out of his voice, his throat thick, he muttered, "I love you."
"And I you, my Aloysius. More than anything."
Wresting his emotion under control, Newsie picked one of the thoughts racing at random through his brain. "Uh...won't we need spelunking equipment or something?"
Gina couldn't help a chuckle at that. "Hall closet, top shelf, in the back."
He was astonished. "You have caving equipment?"
"Well, I have some old camping gear, from when Grandmama Angie would take me to Gypsy festivals upstate. We usually roughed it. I got rid of the tent years ago, but I think I still have Coleman lanterns and rope and iron tent stakes. Who knows what we'll run into down there. Um...grab the mousetraps, too."
Newsie's jaw dropped. "Gina! Mousetraps?"
"I know, I know, I should've just thrown them out...don't tell Rhonda, please," Gina sighed. "But who knows? They might come in handy."
"Gina, I...thank you," Newsie murmured, suffused with warmth.
"I love you, my brave Newsman," she replied, smiling finally. "Look...it's going to be a while. You just prep the stuff and sit tight. Are you going to your theatre tonight?"
"I...I don't know...I should call Scooter, and see if we're still doing a show."
"Do that. And then stay calm. We will figure all this out...together."
"Together," he agreed, smiling faintly. He hung up after she did, and looked out at the snow.I have the best girl in the world, he thought proudly. Still feeling anxious, he opened the Anti-Monsterphobia pill bottle and downed a couple of them. So far, he hadn't noticed any disturbing side effects, and they did seem to calm him a little. He trotted back to the living room and looked at the gridded map of the tunnel system, the closest thing to a layout he had for determining the best place to infiltrate MMN. Studying the paw-drawn lines, he suddenly realized there was one other person who might go along with them, and hunted down his phone.
At the Sosilly, Gina poured a tall mug of the harsh coffee, wrinkling her nose at the first sip, then stirring in way too much sugar and fake-vanilla-creamer to disguise the burnt taste of it. She'd need the caffeine and the warmth. Maybe later, the caterers would bring something more drinkable? Assuming they even show up, she realized. With a deep sigh, she walked all the way back up to the grid. At least he won't run off and do anything stupid without me, she mused, shaking her head. Yeah – it's so much better to do stupidly dangerous things together as a couple. Yay for romance.
Trying to ignore the unease rumbling within her, she told herself it was just the bad coffee, and bent to the task of focusing the lights again.
