The Origin of MASK
Chapter 6: Masquerade Rock, Part 2

By Jelsemium and/or Qweb

"Calm down, boy," Brad instructed himself sternly as he walked through the loading dock and temporary storage area. "You are beginning to jump at shad… yow!"

Brad suddenly found himself confronted with two of the biggest and ugliest men he had ever seen in his life.

They were carrying a packing crate with writing all over it.

The smaller of the two looked over at the peculiar sound Brad had made and dropped his end of the crate.

"Hey, watch it you dummy!" the one with the mohawk snarled, "You coulda smashed my foot!"

"It's my fault," Brad interrupted, "I startled him."

"Hey you're Brad Turner!" exclaimed the smaller of the two men. Smaller was relative, the roustabout could have made two Brads.

The bigger roustabout, who could have made at least three and a half Brad Turners, grinned excitedly.

"Yeah, you are! Can we have your autograph?"

Brad grinned at his own jumpiness as he signed the pieces of paper the two thrust at him. Trakker must have spooked him more than he realized. These two weren't up to anything underhanded. He went on his way and Dagger and Bruno went on theirs.

A day's drive away, inside the Trakker mansion, Alex Sector and Calhoun Burns were putting their heads together on the little "surprise" they were cooking up for Matt, MASK and, if the worst should happen, Venom.

Calhoun was treating the bizarre scheme that he, Alex, and Jacques LeFleur had thought of up in Vancouver as a rather amusing exercise to keep his mind off of being homesick. Alex was also trying to keep his mind busy with something, anything, less grim than his growing uncertainty.

Jacques was at hand to help with his knowledge of geology, but right now he and Julio Lopez were familiarizing themselves with the proto-types of the MASK vehicles.

"Hmmm," Alex said for the umpteenth time that day, then he added, "I calculate that the mountain's capping boulder weighs in the neighborhood of … 300 stone. Even in his current bad mood, he couldn't resist a pun.

Calhoun looked at him with awesome dignity. "Then we'd better not take it for granite."

Before Alex could come up with another rejoinder, Condor went screaming past his nose with Firefly snarling in hot pursuit.

"What the…?" the understandably astonished scientist said. Alex reared back in his chair and plowed into Julio, who was bringing the aerial models back for another pass.

To the trained eye of Dr. Julio Lopez, Alex worked with the dedication of a man who had something on his mind he didn't want to think about. Julio decided it was his job — no, his duty! — to get Alex to relax.

"Sacre bleu!" the startled physician said as he ricocheted off of the back of Alex's chair, sprawled on the floor and dropped the models.

"Serves you right," Alex said with some heat. "Waving those blurry things in my… what did you say?"

"'Sacre bleu'," Julio replied with as much dignity as he could while examining his already beloved Firefly for injuries. "Jacques and I decided it would be too cliché for me to exclaim 'caramba' and for him to say 'sacre bleu', so we switched interjections."

The British scientist looked dourly at Jacques, who was too engrossed with racing Firecracker and Volcano around the furniture to notice.

The Brit then transferred his frosty gaze to Calhoun, whose only crime was being too polite to point out the fact the Jacques was driving across his collarbone.

Calhoun shrugged at the computer scientist, dislodging Jacques and his toys. Alex was forced out of his ill temper for the moment, when Jacques aimed all the weapons on the prototypes and started shooting little plastic missiles at the "offending" architect.

"Can't you three be serious?" Alex asked half-angry, half-amused.

Julio looked over from the fish tank where he was now playing with Gator's boat, inconspicuously bringing the prow to bear on the back of Alex's neck.

I am sorry, mi amigo, but I never had such toys when I was a child." Julio explained, somewhat apologetically. "And I doubt if Jacques did either."

Jacques blushed a little, "I never even heard of such things," The lumberjack turned to Calhoun and said sheepishly. "My apologies for being so rude, I hope you are not angry?"

Calhoun waved away the notion that he would lose his temper over such a trifle, "Not at all, I'm always ready to put my back into my work."

"And that was certainly a spine-tingling chase," Julio said innocently.

Alex wheeled around to glare at the Latino for stealing his pun and got a faceful of water from the prototype's squirt cannon.

"Well, two can play at that game, old chap," Alex roared, sounding more like his usual self. He grabbed up the bottle of fire extinguisher foam cum stick'em, used only once to glue Buddy Hawks to the floor after he'd broken into the Trakker mansion. Julio knew the foam's reputation, so he ran for his life.

Dusty nervously paced the length of the runway that Matt leased. It was perfect for their needs, secluded, secure, and deserted, but it reminded Dusty of a ghosttown.

Scott came running up to him, "I hear a plane!" he cried.

Dusty looked to where Scott was pointing, and sure enough, the MASK transport plane was approaching.

"Thank goodness, I'll be glad to get outta hear."

The plane landed and Hondo drove Firecracker down the ramp to an enthusiastic greeting. Then Dusty went bounding into the ramp to greet the love of his life.

"Gator, baby!" he enthused. "Did you miss ol' Dusty?"

Hondo grinned at the reunion of a man and his jeep.

"Come on, let's get back to Matt and the others," the big, black history teacher said. "I don't want to risk missing any of the action."

"What about the transport?" Scott asked as Dusty drove Gator out of the cargo bay.

"Watch," Hondo instructed.

They all did, and they saw the big jet close up the cargo bay door, taxi down the runway and pull up to a fuel tank. A hose sprang out from the side of the transport and snaked over to the fuel outlet.

"Whoo-eee!" said Dusty. "She sure don't need nobody to wait on her!"

"Matt designed her so she would be completely independent of humans," Hondo said proudly. "Except for combat situations and the occasional check-up. We don't need to wait around, she'll take off as soon as she finishes her drink."

Dusty and Scott led the way in Gator, and they took off for the big city. They had barely traveled two miles down the dirt road when they found themselves staring straight down the headlights of Jackhammer, Outlaw, and Vampire.

Ace listened intently at the door to the hall. Nothing, so he slid out of the office. He realized that he was acting in a suspicious manner, so he forced himself to stroll casually down the hall towards the exit.

He got to the storage area when he heard voices and he dodged behind some crates.

"Chicken!" he told himself, but didn't move from his hideyhole. He snuck around the crates trying to get a look at the speakers. But by the time he had wormed his way over, the voices had stopped.

Riker snorted at himself in disgust, stepped from behind the crates and stomped on somebody's heel.

Brad had stared in the direction the roustabouts had gone until he couldn't even hear them. It's ridiculous to think that just because they were big and ugly that they were up to something. The idol of hordes of teenyboppers everywhere told himself that he had to quit being so jumpy. I'll be looking under my bed next. Then he heard a snort behind him, and something trod on his heel.

The nervous singer let out a yelp and made a world class standing broad jump onto some handy crates and whirled around to face his attacker.

Ace backed into a handy crate and braced himself. Jet pilot and helicopter pilot stared at each other for about four dozen heart beats — which wasn't very long at the rate both tickers were going pittypat — then they burst out laughing.

"What are you doing here?" they asked, more or less simultaneously, then laughed again at the cliché

"I take it your not here for my autograph?" Brad hinted.

"Not hardly, er, no offense," Ace told his favorite singer. "It's just that … well … "

Brad grinned and said jokingly "Give me a hint, first word, sounds like … ?"

Ace smiled wanly told Brad what he had been up to and why. Brad sat down on the crate he had been standing on and looked thoughtful.

"I know what you mean," the rock star said slowly. "All day I've been running into people who give me the creeps for no reason. And something just occurred to me. I don't know any of them. Usually I know the names of everyone working on one of my projects, even the stagehands. I just have this feeling that something awful is going to happen. I know it sounds paranoid, but…"

"But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you," said Ace.

Brad nodded slowly, and somehow it seemed very dark backstage.

Bruce Sato, toymaker extraordinaire, had pulled the shades and was sitting in the dark in his workroom at the Trakker mansion. He had just finished installing T-Bob's radio, and was waiting for the robot to recharge. He leaned back in his chair and meditated on solitude.

"Solitude is easy company, but it's not much for conversation," he told himself.

He decided to join his teammates in the study, when Julio burst through his door with Alex hot on his heels, they went tearing through to the connecting bathroom, and disappeared back into the hall through the bathroom's other door.

"On the other hand," the Japanese inventor told himself, "there's a lot to be said for solitude."

"Easy now," came Hondo's calming voice over the radio. "They don't have any idea who we are. They'll probably pass us without a second glance."

"I suppose … " Dusty interrupted himself with a hiss. "Where's this road lead?"

"Only to the landing strip," Hondo said, worried now. "If they catch that transport unguarded it will lead them to MASK!"

Then there was no more time for talk. The Outlaw oil tanker, driven by Miles Mayhem himself, was almost on them, Vanessa Warfield followed in the Bronco four by four called Jackhammer, and Floyd Malloy, mounted on his Vampire cycle, brought up the rear.

Dusty looked at Scott and saw that he was strapped in securely, "Duck your head and hang on."

Scott braced himself against the dashboard as Dusty pulled down his goggles and floored his baby. Gator leaped straight for Outlaw's throat.

Mayhem's iron gray hair nearly turned white when he saw this kamikaze jeep heading right towards him. He yanked the steering wheel to his right, slewing the cab around, jackknifing the trailer and blocking the road.

Gator nipped around the stricken tanker to the right while Hondo jerked the gears around the way Dusty had taught him and spun around in a 180-degree turn. The former football star knew they had to buy at least a half hour for the transport to get clear. And he aimed to have a little, make that a lot of, fun as he stalled.

The tangerine orange pick-up backed up until its tail pipe was almost under Mayhem's cab. When the furious Venom leader leaned out, sans mask, to shout, Hondo slammed on his brakes, shifted to drive, and pressed the accelerator.

A rooster tail of dirt, mud and less mentionable objects went sailing into Mayhem's face and open mouth. Then Hondo released the brake, went roaring forward, made another 180 turn and followed Dusty.

Vanessa had no confidence in Mayhem's ability to drive a trailer, so she had hung well back to give him room. She skidded to the right, off the hard dirt road into the soft dirt shoulder.

Malloy's upright hair wilted in shock as the two lead vehicles barricaded the road in front of him. The only way he could go was to the left. He slewed his touring cycle around the hind end of the tanker and almost met Gator head on.

The blond punk abandoned Vampire and leaped clear just as Dusty sideswiped the flaming orange bike. Malloy landed on Gator's nose with a 'whumph' of lost breath. He looked up to meet Dusty's impassive stare.

Dusty hit the 'carriage release' button on Gator's dash. The front of the jeep popped open violently and tossed the stunned Venom agent into the air to land with another breath-stealing whump on Firecracker's hood.

The cowboy hit the "carriage return" lever, and brought the jeep shell down so he could check the review mirror. He wanted to see how Hondo was handling things.

Hondo went into his 180 once again, (he was beginning to like it), slammed on the brakes and tossed the dazed crook away in a rough arc.

Meanwhile, Mayhem had climbed into Jackhammer with Vanessa.

"I want those maniacs' hides," he growled.

Vanessa needed no inducement. She wanted their hides, muscles and bones, preferably in small pieces. She jerked the Bronco around and headed after the two orange vehicles just in time to catch Malloy on the hood of Jackhammer. The fiery haired female hit the brakes and threw the blond unfortunate to the ground. Mayhem leaned out the window as Vanessa drove around her fellow agent.

"Take care of the vehicles!" Mayhem roared at the semiconscious thug.

Hondo's rearview mirror told him that Jackhammer was on their trail. He tooted his horn four times to signal one of the game plans that he and some of the other MASK agents had been practicing.

Dusty, likewise watching his rearview mirror, raised his fist to acknowledge the signal.

"Game plan four," he told the bright-eyed Scott. "We split up."

Dusty checked to make sure the chassis had secured itself properly when he'd brought it down over the boat. Then he veered off of the road.

"Wow!" Scott said, still watching the rear. "Man, did you see what happened to that Malloy turkey?"

"Yep," Dusty said smugly, "Guess that's why they call his kind 'hoods'."

Matt made a few phone calls as Gloria drove them to the soundstage. The answers he was getting from United Charities weren't making him very happy at all. Gloria kept looking at Matt from the corner of her eye, but refrained from interrupting his thoughts. When they reached the soundstage cum concert hall they walked inside like they owned the place. Their complacency only lasted until they heard voices.

"Hey, wait'll Mayhem sees these!" said one enthusiastic voice.

Matt and Gloria didn't bother to look at each other, they just dove for cover.

Hondo resisted the urge to dive for cover; he had to get Venom to chase him. The black man saw Gator go bouncing off the road through the trees, so he stuck to the main road. As he figured, Venom went for the easier target. Good, that got Scott out of the line of fire.

"Dusty!" Scott cried, "They're after Hondo!"

"I see," Dusty slewed Gator around so she was parallel to the road, heading in the same direction that Hondo was traveling. He saw Mayhem and Warfield in Jackhammer. He was almost certain that the Firecracker pickup was a match for the armored Bronco. Almost wasn't absolute.

He watched the little procession with a scowl.

"We gotta go help him," Scott pleaded, partly worried about Hondo, and partly worried that he'd miss out on the fun.

Dusty's scowl deepened. If he'd been alone, he'd have cut right out after Hondo… Another scary thought hit him, the MASK transport was also alone, and Floyd Malloy was nowhere in sight.

Dusty headed back the way they had come.

Firecracker peeled off from the road and Jackhammer followed angrily. Hondo sent the pickup skittering through the trees. He could have used one of pickup's weapons, but he knew that MASK wasn't ready for an open confrontation with Venom, yet. So he decided to reserve the cannons and the blood-thirsty spare tire until things were desperate. Things got desperate faster than he planned.

He didn't know the country at all, so of course he didn't know about the gulley. That is, until he ran into it at 50-plus miles an hour.

If the gulley had been a little smaller, Firecracker would have sprung across it with ease. If it had been larger, the truck would have bounced to the bottom and found another way out. The width of the gulley turned out to be just enough for Firecracker to plunge down at a 35-degree angle, bury its nose in the far side and stick solidly.

Hondo hopped out of the cab and surveyed the scene. "Well, McLean, you wanted a piece of the action. You should be more careful what you wish for in the future."

The football coach grabbed his mask and scrambled up the side he had come from. He could hear Jackhammer approaching and he dodged off through the trees. He was careful to leave a trail they could follow easily; he didn't want them to examine the pickup truck closely.

Vanessa could see the orange pickup jammed into the gulley, which gave her enough warning to stop in time. The two Venom agents looked the vehicle over carefully and Mayhem climbed out. He soon spotted the trail.

"This way," he commanded gruffly. "When I get my hands on that maniac, he'll rue the day he took driver's ed."

"Not if I catch him first," muttered the blue clad beauty.

Mayhem clambered back into Jackhammer, and they pushed off through the bushes.

Alex finally cornered the flighty physician on the pool deck. The English ex-commando stalked across the concrete holding his canister at the ready.

"Now, Alex, amigo," said the Chicano as he backed away uneasily. "Surely you can take a little joke, yes?"

Alex, who was watching where he was going even if Julio was not, suddenly grinned.

"Why, of course I can take a joke, dear fellow," the red-bearded scientist purred suddenly. "Come inside and we'll talk."

Julio was no fool, he knew the sudden change in attitude, coupled with the decidedly unpleasant smile, boded him no good. He started to make his way around Sector, keeping a wary eye on his pursuer.

When he was positioned just right, Alex lunged at him with a blood curdling war cry.

Julio leaped back in panic, landed on the edge of the pool and toppled in with a satisfying, to Alex anyway, splash.

Alex checked to make sure that Julio hadn't hurt himself in the involuntary dive.

Julio smiled up at him benignly.

"Give me a hand, compadre," he called out mischievously.

Alex, also no fool, wasn't about to fall for that one. He applauded and left the Hispanic doctor sputtering in the Trakker pool.

Matt and Gloria pushed through the crates and came across Brad and Ace, who were also lurking in the shadows.

Remarkably, neither party was particularly surprised to see the others sneaking through the packing cases. In fact, it almost seemed natural.

They watched in silence as two very large and scary men passed by. Dagger and Bruno were chatting cheerfully about their new acquisitions. Matt shook his head in bewilderment, somehow it seemed unreal for these two vicious thugs to act as excited as teenyboppers about an autograph.

Then he and Gloria faced the ominously silent pilots.

"Uh, hi, guys!" Matt said brightly.

"Mind briefing us on what the devil's going on around here?" Ace asked with ominous gentleness.

"Well, you've heard of the Museum Robbers?" Matt asked rhetorically. He ignored their looks of shock and pressed on. "Well they're here, Sylvester's one of them, and so are those two bruisers, and I don't use the term 'bruisers' lightly."

"And Gorey?" Brad asked quietly.

"Nash Gorey?" Matt asked in surprise. "He's here too?"

"I take it that's a 'yes'," Brad said with gloomy relish. "He's in charge of the laser effects." The rock star heaved a sigh. "At least I know that I'm not a total paranoid."

"The question now becomes, 'What do you have to do with the Museum Raiders?'" Ace asked.

Floyd Malloy often wondered if he should have followed his mother's advice and become a mugger in central park, like his dad. Well, it was too late now, so he decided to check out the airport that Mayhem had been thinking about renting. He hauled Vampire around and took off.

He'd gotten almost half a mile when the maniac in the jeep CJ reappeared and got offensive.

Skidding frantically, Malloy dodged the first rush of the maddened Gator. He spun his cycle around to head for the relative safety of Outlaw and her big guns.

"Wait a second," he told himself, "Vampire's armed to the fangs. Why am I running?"

He spun around to face his pursuer. The maniac was closer than he figured. Gator scorched past, clipping Vampire and sending it spinning clockwise off of the road. Floyd regained control, got back on the road and wheeled around to face his tormenter. Gator promptly plowed into Vampire again, this time sending it spinning widdershins off the road.

"So," Malloy snarled, "You like off road vehicles? I'll show you off road vehicles!"

He grabbed the gearshift, and Vampire sprouted wings and took off like the jet it was. The driver of the jeep was so astonished that he drove off the road himself and ran up the trunk of a tall, slender sapling, pinning it to the ground. The jeep stopped dead.

"I've got you now," Floyd gloated, not knowing that Dusty was among those who hated to be "got."

The touring cycle-cum-fighter-plane screamed down at the motionless jeep. Malloy had just gotten within 'certain kill' range, when the jeep bounced forward playfully and released the sapling. Vampire and sapling met with a twang. The sapling quivered violently and the sap on the motorcycle went tumbling to the ground.

As Malloy looked up dizzily, he saw a large cargo plane take off from the airstrip. He brought his gaze down to the orange jeep with considerable trepidation. The driver gave him a cheerful wave and scooted off down the road.

Malloy sighed heavily and wondered if there were any openings in Central Park.

Hondo was beginning to think that he should have listened to his mother's advice.

"Wait a minute, I did listen to my mother," he scolded himself. "She just never touched on the subject of running through the woods while being chased by international terrorists."

Talking to himself distracted him enough that he almost fell into the ravine again.

"Blast, this thing's not fair!"

He heard Jackhammer coming on fast and was inspired. He looked at the crevice with interest.

"You may not be fair," he told it in a soft voice, "But maybe you're impartial."

He tucked Blaster under his arm, put his back to a tree and waited. When he judged Jackhammer was close enough, he peeked cautiously around the trunk. Naturally he was spotted.

Mayhem let off a few laser blasts to inform the fool he was way out of his league and Vanessa floored it. This time she didn't have an orange pickup to clue her in about the terrain, so she smashed hood first into the gulley and stuck fast.

All that followed Hondo was the sound of the two Venom agents cursing each other.

Hondo chuckled as he returned to Firecracker. Dusty and Scott had tracked him down and Gator was pulling the pickup out of the gulley.

"Thanks," Hondo said gratefully, "but I thought you two would be long gone by now."

"We stopped to play chicken with Malloy," Scott explained breathlessly.

"The transport's away safely," Dusty reported. "And I think it's time we were, too."

"Sounds good to me," Hondo said. His bass voice held more than a touch of amusement. "I managed to … ditch … Vanessa and Mayhem. How's Malloy?"

"Up a tree," Scott said as Dusty chimed in with: "Out on a limb."

They decided to explain the puns later, and they took off. They had a long ride ahead of them. Hopefully it would give them enough time to think up an excuse for taking Scott into battle. If not, then they'd be in real trouble.

Matt suggested that they adjourn to a more secluded place before they got into the gory details. Brad and Ace needed no convincing and they left in Thunderhawk.

"So what do the Museum Robbers, er, Venom, want with me?" Brad asked

"We're not sure yet," Matt replied. "But we intend to find out."

"Who's 'we' and how do you intend to stop Venom," Ace asked.

A short lesson on the origins of MASK followed.

"Is Venom the reason you were interested in my video?"

"No, our interest in the video is what led us to discover Venom's involvement. We need two more people, pilots preferably, hopefully a pilot who can handle a motorcycle and a helicopter.."

"I see," Brad said.

"What about me?" Ace asked. "You don't know much about me."

Gloria laughed, "You came highly recommended, captain."

Riker looked at her in surprise, then sighed.

"I shouldn't even consider it," he told them. "I'm a happily married man… Ohmigosh! Sharon, I told her I'd call after lunch, she'll scalp me for sure if I don't call now. Where's a phone?"

"There's one at the suite," Matt said. "I'll stake you to an emergency call."

"Thanks," Ace said.

Not too long a while later, they arrived at the hotel. Brad was still puzzled.

"I don't get it, if Rax is not United Charities rep, why haven't they sent one?"

"Because they were told that you were using another firm for this concert," Matt said.

"Do you suppose Brad's agent is in on this also?" Gloria wondered.

Brad started to deny it vehemently, then he paused. "He could be," he said wearily.

Chad Frankel glared at his telephone impatiently. He wanted this affair over as soon as possible. Finally, the phone rang and he snatched it up.

"Frankel here … it's about time! … I don't want to hear about your car problems! Are you ready to go? Good, and don't get any funny ideas about … Yes, that's exactly what I think you are!"

He slammed down the phone. Working for charity, huh!

They entered the suite and found Buddy sprawled in front of the television set again.

"Brad, Ace," Matt started, "this is Buddy Hawks …" He didn't get any farther because Riker bounded into the room and confronted Hawks with uncharacteristic hostility.

"YOU! " he roared, causing Buddy to leap to the back of the couch like a startled cat. "I should have known you were involved in this somehow, You Maniac !"

Buddy looked at Ace with such wounded innocence that Matt and Gloria laughed.

"Hiya, Ace ol' pal," Buddy said.

"Don't… 'ol'… pal'… me , Mr. Whoever-the-devil-you-are-this-time!" Ace snarled. Matt, Gloria and Brad looked at each other in confusion as he advanced on Buddy threateningly.

"Every time something bizarre happens to me, you're in the middle of it," Ace accused the wide-eyed mechanic.

"You mean like the experimental suborbital passenger plane?" Buddy asked.

"You could have mentioned that there was a bomb on board. "

"Why?" asked Buddy. "You found out about it."

Riker sighed and shook his head.

"Why is it that every time we meet, you have a different name?" Ace growled. "I wish you would make up your mind!"

Buddy shrugged. "I like variety, so sue me."

Ace sighed again and looked at the others. Gloria laughed.

"Better give it up," she advised the pilot. "You're never going to win."

Buddy made a face at her, then he noticed Brad. "All right!" Buddy enthused "Brad Turner! Can I have your autograph?"

Turner looked ill and sat down heavily in a handy chair.

Buddy looked at the others in bewilderment. "What did I say?"

In the next episode:
Venom calls a cab;
Brad falls in love with a Condor;
And the show must go — entirely off script.