Chapter 4: Plan 10 from San Francisco
"It could have been her sister. She's the only one I know of who could have been able to pull this off."
Charlie, Spyro, Agent 9, the Professor, and David, were all sat in a circle on the human boy's bedroom floor. The five of them had been discussing the circumstances of the framing of Sasha La Fleur.
"But what if it's not someone we know?" David chipped in. "It's not as if Sasha and her family are the only Irish Setters on Earth. Besides, didn't you say Sarah had blonde fur?"
"I did. But, of course, hair dye is a thing."
Just then, there came a tuneful knock on the bedroom door. Shave and a haircut - two bits.
"Come in."
As Charlie had been hoping, the brown-and-mustard wiener-dog came romping in, surprisingly happily despite the recent trouble he'd had with Killer. However, when the three new animal friends entered his field of view, his face quickly changed to one that appeared to say, 'What the heck is going on here?'
"Uhhh... okay," said Charlie. "Itch, meet Spyro, Agent 9, and Professor. Spyro, A-9, and Prof, meet Itchy Itchiford."
"... Hi..." said the Dachshund reluctantly. Once he had taken his place in the circle, he continued by saying, "Missed me?" to Charlie's face.
"Uh, not really. You weren't gone for that long. Oh, yes - how did your... a-hem, 'investigating' go?"
"I paid a good old visit to our not-so-good friend, Killy-boy. I would have said, 'for old times' sake', but that wouldn't really have been honest."
"So? What did you find out?"
"I found out, that... okay, let me enumerate this. Number one - Kill's got some new legs; bionic, of course. Two - he's got a big flipping gun. Three - he's implemented a new-fangled security system... and four - there's this very suspicious-looking door right at the back. I'm willing to bet that's where he's hiding the mask."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Well, I can't think where else."
After a moment's hesitation, Charlie questioned his friend again:
"If you're saying that Killer is behind all this... then who was the impostor?"
"Exactly, Charlie. That can't have been a real dog at all - it must have been a robot!"
Upon hearing this, the others all leaned forward curiously.
"Huh?" they all said... except for the Professor.
"If this Killer fellow is as technologically inclined - and nefarious - as this conversation would suggest," the mole observed, "then I find it entirely plausible."
"So, now that we have our suspicions," said Charlie, "then how will we act?"
"Good point," Itchy replied. "It'll be suicide as long as Kill is in there. Unless we can find some way to lure him out, we'll have no chance."
"Ahh. An impossible mission." The Shepherd mix licked his lips at the thought. "Now, this'll be fun."
"Impossible, you say? Well, it would be... if Sasha were the only girl we knew. You thinking what I'm thinking, Charlie-boy?"
With that, the two males nodded towards each other, with smug grins spreading across their faces.
For the rest of that day, the gang brainstormed up their plan. It had been decided that, once Killer had been baited out of the curio shop, Itchy and Agent 9 would move in to find the mask.
"That's it," said Charlie. "First thing tomorrow, Itch and I are going to move out and get all the supplies. After that, we wait until dark... and then, we strike."
Night fell. As David slept in his bed, the canine friends were sharing a sleeping bag for two, which David had borrowed from his father and stepmother. Meanwhile, Spyro and his two allies were using an old bean-bag as something to sleep on.
Charlie lay awake in the sleeping bag, staring wall-eyed at the ceiling. The thought of Sasha's absence left him unable to switch off - no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't slip into a deep sleep.
Eventually, he could stand it no longer. He gave a wriggle and a shuffle, and began climbing out of the bag.
"Hey!" came a harsh whisper from Itchy. "Where are you going?"
"Uhh... nowhere."
The Dachshund reached for the alarm clock, which he had been keeping close by on his side of the bag, and pressed the snooze-light.
"It's almost twelve," he said. "Couldn't you just... y'know, get to sleep already?"
"No, Itch. I can't. Not without Sasha here."
"Oh, come on -"
"I've tried; I can't do it."
After that, the Shepherd made his way to the door, and slowly opened it.
"Hey!" said Itchy again, a bit louder this time.
"Shh!"
"Oh, sorry... Charlie, you said you weren't going anywhere."
"Well, I lied. Now leave me alone."
After giving his rudely-worded reply, Charlie continued on his way past the door, before stepping down to the bottom of the stairs, and proceeding into the lounge.
By groping around on the surface of the table which stood in the centre of the room, he managed to find the all-important newspaper. He then slipped off the front cover, so that the third page now became the first.
Then, he stepped over to the mirror on the wall. Holding the paper in one paw, he placed the other on the surface of the glass.
"Ann-... Annabelle? Are you there?"
He allowed a few seconds to pass, but there came no reply.
"Annabelle, are you there?" he repeated a bit more loudly. "Woof, woof?"
That did the trick. To his relief, the mirror became enveloped in a pink glow, but at the same time, Charlie hoped that his barking had not been so loud as to wake the others.
Surely enough, the image of Annabelle, the Whippet Archangel, faded in.
"Good evening, Charles," she said. "Does there seem to be a problem?"
"Well, yes. Um, three problems, to be exact. Number one, I'm having trouble sleeping; number two, Sasha has gone missing; and thirdly... well, I'll just let you see this for yourself."
He then raised the paper up to the mirror, and let the third page be illuminated by the glow.
"Haaaaahhhhh!" Annabelle gasped. "No... anything but that..."
"What is it, boss?" said Charlie.
"That mask has not been seen in more than a century... and it is a very dangerous artifact indeed. If we are going to be discussing this, Charles, then our conversation should be held in private."
She then held out her paw, her arm appearing to reach out through the glass.
"Shall we?"
Reluctantly, the Shepherd also reached out, to take Annabelle's paw in his...
Whoosh!
This had been the sound of Charlie suddenly being sucked into the mirror. The heavenly barrier prevented the newspaper from passing through as well, so as it hit the glass, it was wrested from the Shepherd's hand.
For several seconds, Charlie could not see a thing - there was only a blinding flash of white. Eventually, the flash died down, and he could now see that he was travelling through a swirling tunnel, of cream-coloured clouds and purple haze. Looking forward, he could see that he was rapidly approaching a bright spot of light at the end of the tunnel.
At that point, his field of vision was once again blinded by the white, before quickly fading out to reveal his new surroundings. Charlie now saw that he was sat at a golden table, laden with bowls of ambrosia, with the pink Whippet herself sat opposite him.
"Huhhh..." he panted. "What was that all about?"
"Mm-hmm," said Annabelle, patting her paws down on the surface of the table. "You were saying, Charles?"
"... Oh, right. About that mask..."
He then recounted to her what he had read in the paper - the artifact had been discovered in a remote spot of the Mojave desert, placed as an exhibit in the local museum, and subsequently stolen by a figure fitting the description of Sasha.
"This is a dire situation, Charles. The Mask of Belladonna has been unearthed - if the culprit were to find a way to make use of its unholy powers, then... the consequences could be drastic."
"But what is it?" Charlie asked. "What is the Mask of Belladonna? Where did it come from?"
"The Mask is a horcrux," Annabelle replied. "It contains a part of Belladonna's soul - that is to say, her Essence. Alas, I know not of its origins - only Belladonna herself knows. However, one thing that we do know... is the fate of its previous owner."
Upon hearing this, Charlie sat back in his seat.
"Fire away, Annabelle," he said casually. "I'm all ears."
"Thank you, Charles. Let us begin."
California, c. 1860.
Davey Chance was laying, awake, on top of his duvet. Ever since he had bought the Mask from the African witch doctor, that was all that this cowboy had been able to do at night. The mysterious powers of the Mask of Belladonna had plagued him with incurable insomnia, and at times, Chance could have even sworn that he could hear voices coming from the drawer in his bedside cabinet.
After a whole week of no sleep, Chance was beginning to lose his mind. By the seventh night... the voices had grown too loud.
"Daaaveeeyyy..."
This time, there was no mistaking it. That mask... it really was speaking to him; this was no hallucination.
"Shut up, shut up! Shut the hell up!" Chance yelled.
"Open the drawer, Davey Chance. Release me. Let me gaze upon your sweet human face..."
"No... Noooo! Eeyaaarrrgh!"
In a sudden spate of pure insanity, Chance wrapped his sweating hand around the knob of the drawer, and pulled on it so hard that the drawer fell to the floor. At the same time, however, a set of thin, black tendrils shot out from the edges of the Mask, and latched on to Chance's face.
"Hurrrr! ERRAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
"Mwa-ha-ha-ha! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"
The following morning, it was business as usual in the town saloon. As the barman made friendly small-talk with the locals while serving them their drinks, there came a sudden knock as the saloon doors swung open. As the visitor stepped in, wearing his spurred boots, the light filtering in from the outside left his front obscured in shadow.
Everyone turned to look. As the man slowly raised his head, it gave the barman and the customers a glimpse of his visage.
"Uhh... Chance?" said the barman. "What's happened to you? You look... different."
But Chance gave no answer. Instead, he reached into his holsters, and pulled out a pair of six-shooters. The occupants of the saloon all raised their hands in surrender, but this did little to appease the evil look in the cowboy's eyes.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!
With superhuman accuracy, Chance shot each and every one of them in the head, alternating fire between the two revolvers. Once he'd made sure that they were all down and out, he climbed over to the back of the bar, picking up a candle, a bottle of alcohol, and a lighter.
The possessed Chance forcefully shoved the candle into the neck of the bottle, and lit it. Just as he was about to leave the building, he threw the bottle to the ground, setting the wooden floor alight. Then, as the cowboy walked into the distance, the alcohol exploded violently, and the saloon and its neighbouring properties went up in a blaze.
However, possession by the Essence of Belladonna came with a cruel, toxic twist - once it had brought out the evil in the victim's heart, it would begin to devour their flesh and bone from within, thereby disposing cleanly of the victim, and making way for a new one. Surely enough, once he had left town, Chance began to suffer this consequence.
As his bones, liver, stomach, and intestines underwent a sickening necrosis, his heart slowly began to stop beating, and the unfortunate cowboy collapsed to the sandy ground. Within a matter of minutes, nothing remained of his body, and the Mask was subsequently hidden underneath the sands, as they swirled about in the wind.
"... And that, as they say, was that," said Annabelle, finishing the story.
"Huh..." Charlie panted. "Then, there's no time to lose. May I be excused?"
"Not yet, Charles. One moment, if you please."
The Whippet then walked over to the side wall of the room, to take a pair of short swords - wakizashi - from the wall-rack. One at a time, she removed each of the swords from its scabbard, and drew her paw along the flat of its blade - causing it to give a mild white glow - before re-sheathing it.
"Take these to Mr. Itchiford," she continued, passing them to Charlie. The Shepherd was about to turn and leave, when...
"Uh-uh-uh! One more eentsy-weentsy thing, Charles."
Reluctantly, Charlie sighed as he turned to face Annabelle again. Holding a small pink glow in her paw, she placed it over his nose, and allowed the glow to seep in.
"Oh, uh... well, thanks, I guess." he responded.
"I trust that you will not misuse your Miracle this time, Charles."
"Don't worry, Annabelle. I won't."
... And with that, Charlie walked into the exit portal, returning him to the lounge of David's house.
"Hey!"
When the Shepherd cross re-appeared, Itchy was standing there to greet him.
"Oh! Hey, Itch. Was I gone long?"
"Seems so," his Dachshund friend replied, pointing at the clock on the wall. "It's six in the morning. Let me guess - you were having a tea party with the boss?"
"Well, I wouldn't really call it a 'tea party' as such... oh gosh, six o'clock? Gee, I forgot how much time dilation occurs when you're in Heaven. Ah, of course - these are for you."
He then passed Itchy the pair of wakizashi.
"Thanks," he said, securing the scabbard straps over his body. "Come on, Charlie. We'd better get going."
Author's Note: This concludes the first half of the story. The second half, comprising Chapters 5 through 8, should be published in two weeks' time. However, I still have the last two chapters to complete as of publishing this chapter, so be wary of a potential delay.