"The Origin of MASK"
Chapter 24: War Games, Part 4
By Qweb and/or Jelsemium
A feather would have fallen with an audible thud in the silence that followed the Kentuckian's statement. Everyone stared at him, as he stared at the viewscreen.
"This is no time for jokes," Alex said impatiently. "You must be mistaken."
"Oh no, I've been there," Calhoun said in bemusement.
He saw everyone staring at him in disbelief.
"Well, it's rather famous where I come from," he said defensively. "Everyone knows the Frenchman's Folly. The story is that a foreigner — they thought he was French — purchased a huge tract of virgin land, cleared a small spot and ordered a house built to a specific style. He and his wife and baby lived there several months — inside it is a house, not a church — and then they left. They never came back. No one ever heard from them. Eventually the land was sold for back taxes. Mr. Wilberforce, who now owns the land, intended to tear down the old building, but the local historical society called it a historical monument and stopped them. He's still fighting their court order."
"Hmmm," Matt mused. "Alex, you did say Andreivitch was a world traveler."
"Yes, but … Calhoun, are you sure it's the same house?" Alex almost pleaded.
Calhoun looked wounded.
"Of course, or I would not have spoken. When I saw it the first time, I recognized it as Russian Orthodox, rather freely interpreted by backcountry builders. The result is, I may say, rather spectacularly ugly, particularly now that it has been long neglected. It is an unforgettable building; and I do know buildings. I am an architect by trade, you know."
"Well, I don't know much about buildin's, or about Russia," Dusty put in. "But I do know white-tailed deer when I see 'em. And red-winged blackbirds, and mockin' birds, and elm trees, sycamore and jasmine," he said, moving to the screen and pointing out all those elements in the painting. "Does Russia have all that?"
"Negative," replied the computer to the question which had, inadvertently, been directed into its microphone.
Dusty jumped, then fled back to his seat like a startled cat.
The computer had been "eavesdropping" on the conversation as it was programmed to. This allowed the system to correlate data without having to laboriously input data by hand.
"The combination of flora and fauna depicted in the scene is only to be found in the southeastern region of the United States," said the computer in its toneless, female voice.
"Which includes Tennessee," Alex said quietly.
"Affirmative."
"Since Mayhem went to a lot of trouble to obtain all the paintings, we have to assume he has some clue as to where to look for the shawl," Matt said. "He wouldn't have bothered otherwise. I propose that we set up a satellite watch on Tennessee, looking for any sign of Venom activity. When they show up, then we strike."
"Then you're convinced Mayhem will figure out where the chapel is?" Brad asked.
"I have great faith in Mayhem's ability to sniff out treasure," Matt said wryly.
Dusty hardly heard Matt. He was watching Alex set up the computer for the satellite watch. There was a grim line to Alex's mouth when he finished his programming. Dusty thought he looked almost sick with, worry? The kind-hearted cowboy wanted to take Alex's mind off whatever was bothering him and figured asking why the computer had started a conversation would be a good way to do it. Alex was inordinately proud of his computer and always ready to talk about it.
The Brit gratefully shook away his haunted look and began to explain the computer's artificially created intelligence. In his enthusiasm, he became incomprehensibly technical. Only Matt and Bruce, geniuses themselves, followed him completely, and even they had to take a few things on faith. Hondo, who was a teacher, and Ace, who had spent a lot of time with NASA, managed to cling to a basic understanding. For the rest, the lecture took them totally out of their fields where they became irretrievably lost. Dusty, to whom the dissertation was addressed, was way beyond lost. He was in uncharted territory "where there be dragons."
He tried valiantly to keep up. After all, he'd asked the question. But his eyes began to glaze under the barrage of technicality. When Alex finally ran down, he looked at Dusty expectantly.
The cowboy sighed. "You couldn't repeat that in English?" he said plaintively. "I don't think I followed all that."
Sympathetic laughs were smothered all around the table.
Alex's eyes blazed with anger at what he took to be mockery. For the second time that day, he felt he was being made a fool of.
"Then just drive where you're told and leave the thinking to those of us who are equipped for it," he snapped.
Dusty reared back at the unexpected rebuke, his face as red as if he'd been slapped. He searched Alex's face with his eyes, but found no apology, only prideful anger.
In the shocked silence, Dusty's whisper sounded loud as he said, " 'Scuse me," and fled.
Instantly, Gloria was after him, calling his name, flashing a look of scorn at Alex as she passed. Hondo, a muscle twitching at the base of his clenched jaw, was right on her heels. Buddy also leaped to his feet at Dusty's exit. He stood for a second, undecided, his hands clenching and unclenching; then, feeling responsible for Alex's bad temper, he also pursued the cowboy.
The other MASK agents turned shocked or accusatory gazes on the white-faced computer expert.
"Alex!" Matt exclaimed.
But Alex was gone, too, slamming out of the room in another direction. There was such a look of pain on his face that Matt wondered whether he was really ill. The accusatory gazes were now turned on Matt. The MASK leader shook his head in stunned bewilderment.
"I don't understand," he whispered to himself.
Then his command look came back and he leaped up to follow his old friend. Bruce muttered "all for one and one for all," and followed his fearful leader.
The remaining MASK agents looked at each other with varying degrees of anger and shock. To a man, they were all on Dusty's side. The cowboy was open and friendly, while Alex had been aloof and grumpy. Alex's angry, uncalled for words hit the MASK agents hard. They wondered just what kind of outfit they were getting into and they reconsidered their involvement.
"If MASK is too good for a cowboy, maybe it is also too good for a lumberjack," Jacques sighed.
"Or for a guitar player who never finished high school," Brad put in.
Ace was silent but he eyed the others with a professional soldier's eye. He wondered whether MASK had been dealt a fatal blow.
Calhoun cleared his throat, breaking into the gloomy thoughts around him.
"Gentlemen, a grave discourtesy has been done to our young friend, but I think we should not let it affect our allegiance to MASK. The goals of this organization are more important than our own petty differences."
Ace nodded vigorously. The others agreed more reluctantly.
"In any case," Calhoun continued. "I think we should not judge Alex's hasty words too harshly. Something appears to be bothering him. Something he, unfortunately, took out on Dusty."
"Maybe he's still upset from this afternoon," Ace suggested.
"No, I've noticed it, too, and it started several weeks ago," Julio said thoughtfully. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, Alex has a lot of experience, more than any of the rest of us; yet, under other circumstances, I'd diagnose his condition as — stage fright!"
Gloria, Hondo and Buddy tracked Dusty to the edge of the estate. They found him hunched disconsolately on a low wall, tossing pebbles into the exact center of a puddle he wasn't really looking at. His friends plunked themselves down around him, offering comfort by their mere presence.
No one spoke for quite awhile.
Dusty skipped his last pebble clear across the puddle and sat back with a sigh.
"Sometimes I feel like the class dunce," he said sadly.
"No one thinks you're stupid, Dusty," Hondo said with assurance. "Not even Alex, no matter what he said. I think he was really upset about something else, not about you at all."
"It was me," Buddy said mournfully. "I got him all upset. I'm the stupid one. I don't wait until I cross my bridges to burn them. I set them on fire while I'm still standing in the middle."
"Buddy, what you did this morning was so thoughtless, it was downright mean," Hondo said severely. "And if Alex wanted to beat you up I'd probably hold you for him. But that's no reason for him to take out his anger on Dusty."
"But maybe Alex just told the plain truth," Dusty said.
"Dusty! You can't believe that!" Gloria exclaimed.
"I'm a teacher, Dusty," Hondo said firmly. "It's my job to know who's smart and who's dumb. Now I realize you didn't have the chance to go to college, but I'll guarantee that you're not stupid. Shoot, when you don't understand something, you ask questions. That's the smartest thing anyone can do."
"I 'preciate the kind words, Hondo," Dusty said. "But that ain't exactly what I meant. I never said I thought I was dumb."
Hondo didn't understand, so he followed his own advice and asked Dusty to explain.
"I'm smart enough to get by. I can read, write 'n' figger. I can make a livin' and still have time left over to give other folks a helpin' hand. That's all I want outta life, and I am smart enough to handle it. But it's a sure enough fact that I'll never be a brain surgeon, or a rocket scientist. Maybe I don't have brains enough for MASK either. It worries me that somethin' I can't understand might get you all killed."
Dusty's voice sank to near a whisper.
"Sometimes I'm afraid Matt just keeps me around because he feels beholden to me. Or because he feels sorry for me."
Gloria snorted explosively in a decidedly unladylike manner. Everyone jumped.
"Now you're imagining things, cowboy. We all know why Matt asked you to join MASK. It's because you saved his life. But his decision didn't have anything to do with gratitude. It was more like curiosity."
"Curiosity?" Buddy asked curiously.
"Sure. Dusty took out four Venom vehicles with an unarmed pizza truck, didn't he? Well, I happen to know that Matt is just dying to see what he can do with a weapon in his hand!" Gloria said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Buddy and Dusty began to smile.
Hondo guffawed. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty curious about that myself," he said.
It took Matt and Bruce a long time to find Alex in the medieval maze known as the Trakker mansion. They finally discovered him in a little used side room. He was huddled in a chair as if in physical pain. His face was twisted in bitter lines. His eyes were open but unseeing.
His whole appearance frightened Matt.
"Alex!" he cried, kneeling beside the overstuffed chair.
"Don't say it, Matt," the Briton said. "I was wrong. I had no business speaking to Dusty like that. No business at all."
"When a man is angry at his boss, he goes home and kicks his dog," Bruce said. "But the dog doesn't understand. And neither do I."
"Poor Dusty," Alex said. "That's exactly how he looked, like a dog that's been kicked for no reason. Everyone else looked angry, but Dusty only looked hurt." Alex turned toward Matt. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me? Do you think anyone will?"
"Dusty will," Bruce said with certainty. "But I don't know about the others. Alex, don't you realize that with one careless word you may have destroyed all we've been working for? We had the beginnings of a team. Now there are only strangers here, strangers who do not particularly like or trust each other. You may have destroyed MASK before it even started!"
Matt couldn't bear to see the pain on his old friend's face.
"Take it easy, Bruce," he admonished. "It isn't that bad."
"No, Matt, he's right," Alex said tiredly. "I may have let my own fears destroy your plans."
"Fears, Alex?" Matt said softly. "What do you have to be afraid of? You've been a commando. Unless you've been telling me tall tales all these years, you fought your way out of plenty of deadly situations with a lot less weaponry and backup than you'll have in MASK."
"But that was 20 bloody years ago!" Alex burst out. "Look at me. I'm a middle-aged scientist. That's all. I'm bald on top and sagging in the middle. I get winded running upstairs. I'm 10 years older than you, Matt. And everyone else is younger still. I am nearly 50 years old, and I am deathly afraid I'll make a hash of things because I'm too old to play cops and robbers. I'm afraid I'll get one of you youngsters killed because I'm too old and too slow to keep up." His voice went soft, his tone intense. "I'm afraid, Matt. And the closer we get to a showdown with Venom, the more afraid I am."
Matt didn't know what to say. He put his hands on his friend's slumped shoulders.
The snapping anger had left Bruce's eyes. "But Alex," he joked. "Don't you know we love you for your brain and not your figure?"
"Made a ruddy hash of that, too, didn't I? Talking over everyone's head. Showing off how valuable I am to the team," Alex scoffed at himself.
"But you are valuable, Alex," Matt said. "Without you, we wouldn't have the faintest idea where Venom is going to strike next."
Alex snorted in derision. "It was Calhoun who identified the pictures," he said.
"True, but without you, he would have had no pictures to identify," Bruce said.
Alex shook his head.
"You or Matt could have handled the computer just as well," he said. "I'm beginning to think MASK would be better off if I just went back to my pet store where I belong."
Matt's protest was cut off by the blee-bleep, blee-bleep of the computer alarm. MASK wristwatches began to sound off all over the house and grounds. The scattered MASK agents dropped what they were doing and dashed for the control room.
Venom vehicles had been spotted in Tennessee. The satellite reports were confirmed by ground sightings.
("Sure I seen her. Don't get many purple sports cars around these parts. Asked if I knew Frenchman's Folly. She had a picture of it, you see. I told her, 'Sure, don't everybody?'")
"This is it, team," Matt said with barely suppressed excitement. "Our first mission."
The others had been looking forward to this day for months. They crossed their fingers, hoping they would be chosen. Only Dusty and Alex hung back, just a bit, but enough to be apparent to those who understood. Matt didn't have to cross his fingers. As team leader he was pre-selected.
Matt spoke into the microphone.
"Computer, select the MASK agents best suited for this mission."
The computer considered. Venom was out in full force, Switchblade, Piranha, Manta, Jackhammer, Scorpion, Vampire and Outlaw had all been sighted. MASK would need all its vehicles and all its skills to combat that force.
The computer decided and reported: "Dusty Hayes, all terrain specialist. Knowledge of forest environment could prove invaluable. Vehicle code name: Gator."
Dusty took a deep breath and bowed his head before the will of the inevitable.
"Alex Sector, computer expert. Knowledge of art history may be vital. Rhino systems commander."
As the computer paired Alex and Dusty, Brad whispered to himself, "Kismet," then flushed when heads turned in his direction.
"Bruce Sato, design expert. Vehicle code name: Rhino."
Bruce smiled tightly. He would drive the big truck while Alex manned the computer station in back.
"Gloria Baker, Kung Fu expert. Combat skills may be needed outside vehicles. Gator copilot."
Gloria restrained a squeal of delight and contented herself with hugging Dusty's arm.
"Calhoun Burns, architect. Knowledge of structures and local conditions necessary. Thunderhawk copilot."
Calhoun drew himself up to his full height, his chin firm, his eyes flashed with pride.
"Brad Turner, helicopter pilot. Air support needed. Vehicle code name: Condor."
Brad whooped without shame and slapped Calhoun on the back.
"Hondo MacLean, Firecracker commander. Firepower and combat skills vital."
Buddy gave the schoolteacher the thumbs up sign, then crossed his fingers, hoping he would be chosen to copilot.
"Julio Lopez, physician. Firecracker copilot. Medical skills probably necessary."
A lump of silence filled the room at the machine's dispassionate assessment of their abilities on their first mission.
Julio humphed loudly.
"Alex, you have built us an atheist computer."
"Huh?" Alex said, thinking everyone was starting to sound like Bruce.
"It has no faith," the doctor explained.
The computer whirred in concentration, then said: "Selection complete."
Jacques and Ace were disappointed, but not surprised. Until their vehicles were ready, they didn't have much chance of seeing action. Buddy was crushed. He wondered if this was his punishment for cutting up earlier.
"Then assemble Mobile Armored Strike Kommand!" Matt ordered.
The chosen nine scrambled for the mask room. The others followed more slowly but still eagerly. For the first time they would see the magic of the MASK roundtable.
When the selected agents were seated around the table, Matt said, "We've already had the briefing on this mission, so we won't waste any time."
Above the table, hung the recharging unit like a chandelier. Radiating from its jeweled center were long arms, like spokes of a wheel, with the various masks at the tips. They dangled a man's height above the head of their wearers, but as the charging process began, the floor of the mask room began to rise, bringing the agents almost level with their masks, bringing the room level with the passage that led to the hidden transport jet.
Everyone looked up as Matt pressed the button that sent power surging through the unique jewel which amplified the energy a thousand-fold. As the agents watched, the center station began to glow until it was almost too bright to look at. Then the power was suddenly released to shoot along the arms to the designated masks. Everything glowed, the radiance reflected on the upturned faces; then the light faded.
The agents reached for their masks with something akin to reverence. They carried the weapons toward the transport. Some of the charger's glow seemed to linger in Dusty's eyes. This is what he wanted, to be part of this team. He silently vowed that he would prove he was worthy.
Now that they were underway, Alex felt remarkably calm. Now he'd know, he thought. One way or the other, he'd know if he belonged in MASK.
Gloria, Calhoun and Hondo were resolute, if just a touch nervous. They were all fighters from way back, however, and they had confidence in themselves and their friends.
Bruce looked stereotypically inscrutable. No one would ever have known that the Japanese inventor had butterflies in his stomach as large as eagles.
Julio heard Brad humming to himself and grinned. He felt happy enough to sing himself. The doctor didn't realize that the rock musician was in the throes of composition.
"Trakker's gonna lead the mission / cause Spectrum's got such 'super…vision' / Ba-duh-duh-dump." Brad finished with an imaginary drum roll, pleased with the rocking rhythm. He also liked the supervision/super vision pun. It seemed so MASKlike. Let's see, he thought, how should it start. Something about "masked crusaders."
Matt felt worried. He was always worried. But he also felt a strong sense of pride that these people were willing to follow him into danger.
As Julio placed his medical bag behind Firecracker's seat, he noticed a movement under a tarp in the back of the pickup. The tip of a metal toe glinted at him. Silently, he caught Hondo's attention, and, making a shushing gesture, he called Matt over. They all regarded the robotic foot.
"Someone's been sleeping in my bed," growled Hondo in his best Papa Bear voice, "And he's still there!"
The strategist yanked away the tarp and revealed a rumpled-haired Scott Trakker next to the guilty looking robot, T-Bob.
"Scott! What do you think you're doing," Matt said.
"He looks like a stowaway to me," Julio said. "Shall we make him walk the plank?"
"I just wanted to go along, Dad," Scott said defensively. "I thought maybe I could help."
"You should be in school, young man," Matt said severely.
"Uh, it's 3:30, Matt," Hondo pointed out.
"As soon as I got home, I heard the MASK alarms going off all over the place. So I came and hid," Scott confessed. "Please, Dad, can't I come?"
Matt was unmoved.
"You can help best by staying here, where it's safe," he said. "Jacques, would you care to babysit?"
Scott winced at the awful word.
"I would like to, mon ami," Jacques said, holding a straight face with an effort. "But you remembered what happened last time."
"Good point."
Matt passed over Ace who was trying to hide his lanky form behind Hondo's bulk.
"Buddy, you're used to dangerous assignments … ?"
Now Buddy knew he was being punished, but he took it like a man.
"Sure, Matt, I'll keep an eye on him," the mechanic said with fortitude.
Scott was forced to stand by, one of Buddy's hands heavy on his shoulder, while his father and the others drove the four MASK vehicles up the tail ramp of the transport jet. Gator was last in line. Dusty looked at Scott and Buddy standing there dejectedly, Ace and Jacques hardly more cheerful beside them. Only T-Bob looked happy at the prospect of missing the action. Dusty hated to see them all looking so downcast.
"Hang on," he told Gloria.
The cowboy waved at the watchers, then hit Gator's powerful, spring-loaded carriage release and the close button simultaneously. The jeep's hood snapped up, yanking the chassis after it, making Gator rear like a western hero's horse, then the jeep plunged up the ramp.
As low as Buddy felt, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Leave it to Dusty to have the only jeep in the world that bucks."
"Does that mean he's going for a Rodeo Drive?" T-Bob said slyly, as the jet rolled out for takeoff.
Jacques didn't get it, but the others groaned vigorously.
"T-Bob, I think you're full of bull," Ace said.
Buddy shook his head. "Would you guys quit horsing around and come inside!"
Jacques had caught up.
"I'll move so fast you'll think it's a Calgary Stampede," the Canadian said.
Scott's shoulders were slumped as he moved through the tunnels toward the garage. Buddy contemplated his punishment detail with resignation. Then he remembered that revenge is always better than resignation.
He put his arm around the boy's shoulders.
"Still wanna learn how to pick locks?" he asked.
Next episode:
Venom finally meets its nemesis mask to MASK
And the good guys discover that war is
"Not a Game Any More."