5~

They walked through a beautiful steel and glass corridor, the highest in Creationex's main corporate building that led to the President's office. Marcie gave a glance at the awesome view afforded her from the windows that stretched before her, and wished that she was in a better mood to enjoy it.

"This is so cool!" Velma gushed. "Look how high up we are, Marcie! Can you imagine that this was all started by two kids in high school with a dream? Every floor, every invention, every patent is a lasting testament to their hard work and love for each other, over the years. It's so amazing. It's the Great Corporate American Nerd Romance."

"You softie," Marcie smirked.

"You scoff, but ever since I first picked up a motherboard, I heard about Creationex. I always wondered what it would be like to work here, adding my brains to help shape the future, and get paid pretty well in the process, especially in their computer division. Maybe, I could start my own company. Dinkley's Digital Designs. How do you like it?"

"Not bad. I think I might want to start my own business, someday, too. Fleach's Future Foundry, so we share a fondness for alliteration, at any rate. I can't lie, though. I thought the same thing, all the time. In fact, this is my second time coming here."

"Really? When was the first?"

"On a school field trip, earlier this year. You weren't here, but I wish you were. We could have geeked out together."

"Softie," Velma smirked back.

Marcie had to chuckle at that. Despite her troubles, being with Velma again was like an elixir. It felt so easy to be herself around her, so comfortable. She made her laugh inside and out, made her shape up, when she didn't think it was possible. When people talked about chemistry with another person, she knew what they meant even as a kid, but never thought that such a thing could be for her. Only Velma could prove her so wrong.

As they approached the high-tech doors that led to the office, she straightened her posture, took a deep breath to clear the worry from her mind, and maintained the notion that as long as she had Velma as her friend, the world became a nicer, less uncertain place.

One of their two escorts opened the doors with a touch of a lit panel set by the door frame, and the double doors, smoothly, split apart.

They stepped into a panoramic chamber that was a tasteful fusion of traditional big business office decor, and something from the set of a science-fiction drama series, with sweeping, artistically futuristic, curves of mirror-polished metal and tempered glass platforms, all framed behind the soaring backdrop of a window that spanned the entire width of the already wide room.

However, to the two girls, as they walked further in, something was quite amiss within the room. It was empty.

Or rather, not so much empty, as it was bereft of any other people. However, they could see something sitting by the vast window.

Between the two founders'/presidents' vacant desks, one of which having a single envelope on it, was an elderly parrot with a small, tattered scarf around his neck, sitting on a tall, brass and cedar perch.

From his build and look of aged wisdom still shining from his large, expressive eyes, he seemed more owl than parrot, but the two girls, immediately recognized him, with no small sense of awe, as the goodly spokesman for Creationex, itself, Professor Pericles.

Suppressing the desire to ask for his autograph, Marcie and Velma took obsequious steps towards practically the public face of the company, while the bird calmly watched them.

Deciding to show her respect for their host by speaking his native German, she had long wondered what he would say to her, if they ever met, at this momentous occasion, something joyous, perhaps a rare pearl of wisdom for the up-and-coming scientist with a dream in her heart.

When they both stopped at what seemed a respectable distance from him, Pericles settled more comfortably on his perch and regarded Marcie, amicably.

"Ah, Guten Tag, Fraulein Weinerwasser." (Ah! Good day, Miss Hot Dog Water.)

She did not, in retrospect, expect to hear that.

"Weinerwasser? Ach!" Marcie soured, dreading that she would never be rid of that accursed moniker. "Wer hat dir gesagt, dass war mein Name?" (Who told you that was my name?") she asked in annoyance.

The parrot shrugged. "Ich hatte die Firma in Kontakt mit Ihrer Schule, um Sie zu finden. Einer der Studentenstudenten wusste fast nicht, wer du warst, bis sie sich endlich erinnerte und dich mit diesem Namen anrief. Unnötig zu sagen, sie war keine Hilfe." (I had the company contact your school to find you. One of the principal's staff almost didn't know who you were until she, finally, remembered, and called you by that name. Needless to say, she was no help.)

Marcie just sighed, wanting to move on. "Rufen Sie mich einfach an Marcie, Professor." (Just call me Marcie, Professor. Okay?)

Pericles nodded. It didn't take a bird with a genius I.Q. to see that she took umbrage in that name. "Ja. Tut mir leid, Marcie. (Yes. I'm sorry, Marcie.)

He then, smoothly, switched languages. "May we speak in English? It would seem rude to leave you friend out of the conversation, and I wouldn't want any of my eleven languages to get rusty."

"Thanks. What's up?"

"As you probably know, the police are far too busy dealing with public disturbance calls, vandalism, theft, and recently, kidnappings," Pericles said. "However, I have also heard that you have been cultivating a reputation as something of an amateur detective around town. It is because of this reputation that I have called you here, today. I need you for a very important case, perhaps, the most important one of your life."

"Creationex wants me, I mean...us, to solve a case for them?" Marcie asked, unbelieving.

She didn't even realize how big her eyes were widening over this. Money was never a consideration, it was just intellectually challenging and, admittedly, fun to outwit those who would use crime to inconvenience others, she found. But, this was on a whole new level. Being recommended by a global powerhouse of a company went light-years into proving that this hobby had some serious legs on it, and would force people to take these kids seriously, from now on.

"We do," Pericles said. "We know about what you did during your field trip, months ago, when you stopped that corporate spy from stealing from us. It was your sharp mind, quick thinking, and brilliant inventions that had impressed us, Marcie. Will you use those skills to help us, once again?"

Marcie looked visibly torn from indecision. This was an opportunity to show their mettle that might never come again. For someone like her, who wanted people to know her qualities, through hard work and successes, this was anathema to her. She wanted nothing more than to accept, but time and fate were not on her side, here.

Something Velma could see in her conflicted eyes from where she stood.

"Is something wrong, Miss Fleach?" the parrot asked.

"Professor," Velma said in regretful tones. "It's not that she doesn't want to take the case. I think I speak for her, when I say that it would have been a great honor, but she...we're quite busy with another case, at the moment. The fact that there have been so many crimes going on in town is because of a man named Greenman. What he's doing is causing all of this unrest, to begin with, and we're in the process of stopping it."

"V's right, Professor," Marcie spoke up, again. "I want to take your case, but it's just bad timing, right now. If we manage to stop Greenman, then I promise to get right on it, when we're done."

The feathers on Pericles' body fluffed and ruffled in sudden agitation, and a stricken look of loss, anguish, and even fear, was reflected in his green eyes.

"Nein! You must!" he shouted, more at the situation than to the surprised girls. Seeing the worry on his guests' faces, he knew that he caused this disruption. He let his emotions hold sway on his decorum, and amends had to be made.

"I...I am sorry, mein kinder," he gasped. "I was wrong to snap at you. You are not the cause of what...happened." A tear escaped from his eye before he could wipe it away with a wing.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Marcie asked. "What happened?"

Pericles grimaced, as if merely bringing it up was painful, or would jinx any chance for a positive resolution, but he carried his anxiety with maturity, and whispered, "The Owenses are gone. They didn't come to work, yesterday, and they never came home!"

The bird hopped from the perch over to one of the desks, where the blank envelope lay. "Someone called the office, yesterday, telling me that Ricky and Cassidy were taken, and that I was not to call the police or hire private investigators. I was only to convince you to find them for me, after I contacted you. I was also told to expect a letter, and that I should give it to you, once you decided to help."

Marcie went over to the desk and took out the letter, already having a very good idea who sent it.

"The bird has, no doubt, summoned you, since the police have been completely flummoxed by me," the note read. "As you may have realized, time has been my ally. Nothing I have done had been left to chance. Every day, in some way, has been a cog in the great machinery that is my crusade, and that great work hinges on a timetable of my own devising.

"Since I know that you have done your utmost to foil me, at almost every turn, and survived to tell the tale, know this. The hour is coming when I will complete a mission that had been centuries in the doing, and I would very much like to see you, today, where we first met, to mark the occasion. Your father and Mr. and Mrs. Owens have already received their invitations, and now, you've just read yours.

"We're waiting."

Marcie said, quietly, "As busy as he's been, he wants to see me, today? I have to admit. He knows how to handle time management."

"That they were kidnapped for a huge ransom is bad enough," Pericles fretfully added. "But, even worse, Cassidy is with child! Twins! The whole family...my whole family...is in danger!"

Velma glanced at Marcie, not believing in the sheer coincidence of so many kidnappings happening so close to each other.

"You don't think it's..."

"It's him, all right," Marcie muttered with a nod.

She turned to Professor Pericles, filled with the sober conviction of someone who only now understood the depths her enemy was willing to go to achieve his misguided ends, that no one, anywhere, was too precious to sacrifice, and, in the pit of her stomach, sacrifice, she knew, was indeed, the name of the game.

"Sir, believe it or not, but my family was kidnapped, too," Marcie told him. "The person who did it is the same one who took the Owenses, the same one we're after, Everest Greenman, and I can tell you from experience that if he says that he won't hurt them, if we do what he says, then he's lying by omission, and it will all end in tears, whether we comply or not, which is why we'll help you."

The parrot's features softened, and his feathers began to flatten, as his concerns and fear for his human loved ones became somewhat more manageable.

"Danke. Danke schoen, Miss Fleach. Miss Dinkley," he breathed, gratefully. "If you need anything to help with the case, as acting president of Creationex, the whole of this company's resources are yours."

"Thank you, Professor," Velma said, as both girls nodded respectfully. She then said to Marcie, "Let's go." and they both stepped away, heading for the doors.

"Don't worry, Professor," Marcie said, evenly, before they left with the waiting escorts. "We'll bring them back before the baby shower."

With the guests, finally, gone, the office was soon quiet, again, and Professor Pericles ascended to his perch, to look out at the vista of Crystal Cove from the vast window, and wrestle with his deep and worrisome thoughts.

"You can see that it's a trap, don't you?" Velma asked, opening the front door of her house.

"As clear as day," Marcie replied, as they entered. "But, at least, I know where he wants me and, luckily, it's very familiar territory."

"Where is it?"

"He said that he wanted me to go where he and I first met. We met at the amusement park," explained Marcie.

"Then, chances are his third and final sacrifice will be there, and will probably involve your father and the Owenses," Velma reasoned. "What are you going to do?"

Marcie smiled, slyly. "Well, when a so-called emperor invites me to meet with him, I simple must dress for the occasion."

Velma wasn't sure how to take that, at first. Was it a joke? If so, she didn't, immediately, get it. That was, until she thought about what Marcie had said about dressing up, and a strange leap in logic occurred.

"Wait a minute!" Velma exclaimed. "You mean that Halloween costume I saw in the basement, when I came back home? That thing's yours? I thought it was part of one of Mom's conspiracy theories."

"Yep and nope," Marcie said, proudly. "I managed to make enough Super Helium to completely fill the suit, and, although this isn't her maiden voyage, this will be my first chance to fly it, if I don't crash and burn, but I don't think Super Helium burns, though, so I should be fine."

Marcie led Velma down the tidy cellar, where the still figure of a wild-haired she-demon stood on her stand, in a corner of the room.

Velma walked up to it and gave it a more appraising eye, noticing the snug bandeau against the bosom, the tattered loin cloth that just barely covered her femininity, her ample hips and derriere, the alluring, leather-banded gloves that reached up to her strong shoulders, and the boots that ascended the long, slim legs.

"Hmm, so you're going to put that on, huh?" she asked, her mind, casually, running near-salacious images, in multiple angles, of nerdy Marcie strutting around, looking like some winged, wild-maned Amazon, preparing to carry her off to some faraway aerie. "You'll look pretty pervy...I mean curvy!"

Ignoring, or not noticing Velma's Freudian slip and covered, reddening face, Marcie pointed out, "Well, according to the other Marcie's journal, her curves are where the bladders for the Super Helium are located. She designed her quite well, from the scraps of her first costume, a manticore, even though the rest of her high-tech components were borrowed from Mr. E's Destroido company. She wrote that 'Dark Lilith,'-"

"Dark Lilith?"

"That what she called her suit," Marcie explained. "Anyway, she said that it was powered by her body heat, with thermal filaments woven into the body, that cooled her and transferred the heat to transducers, which turn it into electricity to power the suit's functions, like the Super Helium micro-pumps in the boots, emergency glide motors for the wings, and feedback control of the myo-boost inner layer, underneath the nano-mail skin, that increased overall strength."

"She wrote that she had a hoot throwing Fred around, like a sock puppet," she added with a chuckle. Then, her face fell a little, as she, accidentally, reminded herself of the native Fred and the rest of Velma's friends.

It was a look that was easy for Velma to catch. "Marcie, what's wrong?"

Her friend sighed, not wanting to hide her feelings, right now. "I'm...just afraid."

"Of what?"

Marcie glanced at Velma. "I know I sound really cocky thinking that we might see our way through this, but if we do, once this is over, things will probably go back to the way they were."

Velma looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"C'mon, V. You know that I was never cut out to be one of the gang. I never had anything in common with any of them, and I always knew I was tolerated only because you knew me. Whenever you were with them, I always felt like I was an outsider."

"Well, you could've said something, you know?" Velma said. "Why didn't you talk to me about it? You're my best friend. I thought we shared things together.

"It's because you're my best friend, that I didn't want to say anything," Marcie admitted. "I didn't want you thinking that you had to choose them over me."

Velma shook her head. "Oh, Marcie."

"Okay, I was jealous. I still am, but I know that it wouldn't be fair for you to stop seeing them," Marcie said, feeling like a chastised, little troublemaker, under Velma's slightly reproachful gaze.

"Y'know, Marcie," Velma admonished. "For someone with such a high I.Q., you can be really dense, sometimes. You're my best friend, you dope! That will never change between us."

Marcie found herself giving a self-deprecating smirk, feeling the fool for thinking so little of their bond. "Thanks, V."

"Your welcome. Now, what else do we have to do?"

"Actually, you did plenty," Marcie told her, while she gave the suit another casual glance of inspection, mentally preparing to don it, for the first time. "You can go rest, now. I know that you've been in stasis a long time."

Marcie thought appreciation and gratitude would come from Velma, but what she got was a haughty, hands-on-hips stance of indignation, instead.

"Meaning what, that I can't keep helping you out?" Velma asked, huffily.

"I...don't want you to, V." Marcie wished that the conversation wouldn't go in this direction.

"And why not?"

"Because, I've got it under control. Greenman's failed in two of his last two sacrifices. If I can stop him, then I think I can make Greenman give the amusement park back to Dad."

"I didn't know that you were an optometrist," Velma jested, sternly. "Because, I keep hearing the word "I" from you. You don't have to do this alone, you know?"

"I've got the rest of the gang to help me," Marcie stated.

"I mean me."

"No way."

"What do you mean, 'no way'? You'll need all the help you can get!" Velma countered. "Unless you forgot about what I did with those robots in the stadium."

"I don't need your help!" Marcie wanted to say, more sedately, but it came out as, unexpectedly, loud as Velma's rebuttal.

Annoyed, Velma rolled her eyes, and paced around the basement. "Ugh! Typical Marcie Fleach! You're so stubborn! You never wanted anybody's help. Even when we were science partners, you were always a workaholic! Always trying to prove to the world that you could do it on your own!"

"Some people like to work hard, Velma!" Marcie fumed.

"Oh, and I didn't?"

"It's not a crime to try to be the best at something, you know? Besides, I seem to recall you sounding a little like that, Miss Co-winner of the Tri-State Olympiad of Science, three years running. You were just as gung-ho as I am. Remember?" Marcie snapped.

Velma, realizing that this shouting match wasn't going to get her point across, took a calm breath and said, "I do, Marcie, but I've been stuck in the past for months, thinking that I'd never see home, again. That, kind of, put things in perspective for me."

Marcie decided to stay on her tirade. Her break-up with her father, now leading to the possibility that she might never see him, again, took hold, and she wanted to win the argument, for victory and catharsis' sake.

"I talked people into helping me hi-jack a time machine, to bring you back home, for Heidegger's sake, and instead of being happy, you're psychoanalyzing me?"

"I am happy, Marcie," Velma raised her voice, defensively. "But, you're not, obviously, and I know that because you're hiding, again."

That gave Marcie pause. What did she mean? "Hiding? From what?"

"Not from what," Velma pressured, needing to pour some ice water on Marcie's bull-headedness. "Behind what. Behind your work, behind everything you do. Every time things got hard for you, you'd bury yourself in whatever you were doing. You did it when your parents broke up, whenever you were bullied at school. You'd come over to my house because you needed someone to listen, to care. I did, Marcie. I still do, but being the best won't really help you when times get tough. You need people around you, or you'll be so busy that you'll miss out on some of the best things in life... like me."

Those impassioned words, like a chisel of truth, began their work of cutting through the concrete wall of Marcie's long-held defenses, her mastered, habitual mechanisms of coping, which may have been doing her more harm than good.

Yes, it was a fight, a rare thing between the two of them. But in this harsh environment, honesty could come full bloom, and in her remembrance of their friendship, Marcie was reminded that this was an occasional and necessary pain to bear to help each other and strengthen that friendship.

"You did enough for me," she confessed, finally. "I don't...want to be the reason..."

"The reason for what?" Velma pressed, seeing the light at the end of this awkward tunnel.

"That you might get hurt."

"What?" Velma found herself asking. It sounded so strange to hear from Marcie that she had to know why she thought it.

"I don't want to be the reason why you get hurt," Marcie repeated. "I made some enemies, while you were gone."

Velma almost wanted to laugh, but thought better of treating her friend's concern so lightly. "What's the matter?" she asked, in a mock-swagger. "Don't think I'm tough enough to handle it?"

"I don't want to take that chance. In another life, another Marcie Fleach died protecting her Velma Dinkley. I can't think of a better reason, but I don't want you to be in that kind of situation to start with."

The tragic thought of that, suddenly, moved Velma. The notion that concepts like that kind of loyalty, or even love, could truly transcend realities, profoundly, brought home Marcie's worry, and took the flippancy from her.

"I think understand what you're saying, Marcie," Velma said, soberly. "But, I'd certainly appreciate it more, if you treated me like a friend, and not some butterfly. I survived the Old West, after all. Maybe, I'll protect you."

Her fingers found, stroked, and intertwined with Marcie's soft, reciprocating ones. The tender contact, alone, spoke so much, of precious time lost, and hopeful promises of things to come.

"What I'm saying is, if I can't be for the people that I care about," Velma said to her, softly. "Then, what's the point?"

Marcie's heart cracked, deeply, doubling the affection she had for her. She had to turn away to swipe the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Now, who's being stubborn?"

Velma gave her friend a warm, forgiving smile. "Don't worry. You can be stubborn about everything else, I promise, but I do want to help you, and I'm going to help you, or you'll have more on your plate than just Greenman. Capisce?"

With tensions diffused, Marcie sighed and chuckled. "Okay, V, you win." Then, a thought hit her, something she just began to notice, ever since they reunited. "Hey, you've been winning a lot, lately."

"You're just now noticing?" Velma asked, with a cocky smirk. "Now, c'mon, what's the game plan?"