Chapter 13: Dungeon Comics and Games

  No matter how that last chapter might have sounded, it was all for a higher purpose. The Crystal Guardian is meant to protect people, keep them safe, so what kind of heroine would I be if my teammate hurt themselves because I didn’t check in on them?

  I paced around my lounge room, analysing everything I said to Elias. I’d said too much, I knew that. What was I thinking? What was HE thinking, and did I even want to know?

  I called the Major, ready to give her a talking-to, but remembered that the phone lines had been hacked. Too late. Plus, if Detritus and his affiliates really had been listening in on my conversation with Elias…

  “So the meeting at Dungeon Comics Toys and Games will take place at approx 10AM today. You’re not leaving until you convince the owner to put our product on the shelves. I’ve told Emma to meet you there as well.”

  I was stunned. The Major knew exactly how and when to bulldoze her employees, and I’d not really been listening. I sighed and agreed, not knowing what exactly I’d be getting into. Changing into my best corporate clothing, I walked down to Dungeon Comics Toys and Games.

  This place had once been Port Moonstone’s very own slice of nerd-vana, back in a day when nerd-vana was a phrase people used unironically. It used to be a rite of passage, for some kids. You would go here to buy your first manga or comics, paint your first minis, play Warhammer 40K or Yu-Gi-Oh for the first time, before getting stomped by the owner, a veritable grey-bearded god of geekery. Of course, geeks are technically savvy, and a lot of them now get their merch from Amazon or get digital goods, but back in the late 2000’s and the 2010’s, this place was proof that the nerds would inherit the earth. And if we were going to take a slice of that pie, we needed brand visibility: a term which I am going to blatantly misuse to mean “Our merchandise on shelves”.

  The owner, Eugene, had graciously decided to hear out our proposal. My only weapons: A cardboard box full of gunpla, and being the only woman in the room. The presentation had gone well, all things considered, until I pulled out a completed model of Silverback. “What do you think? It’s high enough quality for the collectors market, plus the design should also appeal to younger boys. It’s an obvious moneymaker.”

  “Ain’t this the bloody mech that was stomping around Port Moonstone a few days ago?”

  “Yep.”

  Eugene sucked air through his teeth. “It’s a hard sell, not sure if it fits with our brand. Sure, gunpla has great profit margins, but A). This seems a little similar to Zoids, which didn’t do that well commercially if I recall and B), we don’t really do models of actual military equipment. There’s a HobbyRama down Brisbane way, but I don’t know if they really do mecha. If it came from a movie or a-“

  My heart sank, but Eugene held up a finger. “Hold that thought”, he said, before coming out from the front desk, and walking up the stairs to the street above. I looked over at the monitor at the security feed, where a figure in a green hoodie was spraying up graffiti. Eugene went to confront the figure, but it pulled a pistol. Fuck secrecy and NDA’s, this was life-or-death. I transformed into my Crystal Guardian form, then rushed out. Eugene’s hands were up in surrender, and he was stepping back from the masked figure I knew all too well. Elias had been right: Definitely a woman, definitely younger than the original Iron Mask. The metal fist was new as well. I narrowed my eyes, pointed my umbrella as I stepped in front of Eugene.

  “Drop the gun, and take off the mask. It’s not yours.”

  Iron Mask snorted, began pointing the gun at me instead. “Ya’ll must not have heard of what I did to the last one to interrupt. And if you knew the mask, you’d know exactly why I must wear it. A poor decision, in your position.”

  Around me, people were screaming and running away. I took a deep breath, tried to keep Iron Mask’s focus on me. Where the hell was Emma? Eugene ducked back into his store, but I spoke up to keep her gun trained on me. “I fought the real Iron Mask, back in the day. As far as I know, he never carried a gun. He also didn't talk as much. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

  “Shit, you right. It don’t.”

  She holstered her pistol, pulled out a spray-can and put her metal hand out in front, starting a small fire from a port in the centre. She sprayed at me, turning the aerosol into a flamethrower. I opened my umbrella and ducked behind it, using it as a shield, like Prince Charming fighting the dragon. I winced, feeling the heat. Fortunately, the umbrella was fireproof, but even so, I didn’t want to risk my dress or my hair catching fire from a stray ember. I stepped to the side, letting her spray follow me away from the building. The minute I got a chance, I closed the umbrella, and fired a shot directly at her midsection. She tanked the shot, grunting in pain. Exactly what I was afraid of. Even if we weren’t dealing with the original Iron Mask anymore, this new one didn’t seem any less dangerous.

  My prayers were answered, as Emma came skating up, already transformed into her Crystal Guardian form. If she could just get the right angle, she could either crash right into this Doctor Doom wannabe, or switch to the sword and go in for a melee attack. But I wasn’t that lucky. Almost as if psychic, Iron Mask stepped aside. I saw the look of panic on Emma’s face as she almost ran into me. I dodged, just barely, as Emma whipped around me and switched to the skatesword, brandishing the weapon. I could feel a lump in my throat, but we both stared Iron Mask down with as much defiance as we could muster. Iron Mask snorted. “Like I promised: No blood spilling, just skills from a villain. This the only backup you got? Because I swear there used to be more of ya’ll.”

  I pointed my umbrella again, fired another shot. Emma charged, swinging her sword and screaming a warcry. The skatesword crackled with energy, and Emma swung, keeping Iron Mask off balance and dodging. Still, if we couldn’t work out a way to get rid of the gun, we were in big trouble. I shifted my position, took cover, and tried to line up another shot, but Emma kept getting in the way, her sword clashing with Iron Mask’s fist. The pair kept changing positions, and I couldn’t risk Emma getting caught in the crossfire. Suddenly, another energy blast from Iron Mask sent Emma flying. As Emma went sailing through the air, I let off another blast, striking Iron Mask in the back. Taking advantage of Iron Mask’s distraction, I charged her, going for the gun. We struggled, back and forth, trying every dirty trick: elbows, knees to the stomach. Finally, Iron Mask headbutted me, and I fell to the ground, just as Emma had recovered and rejoined the fray.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  I moaned in pain, but forced myself to my feet. Emma kept hacking away at Iron Mask, desperately trying to land a hit, but both of them were beginning to tire out. Emma lowered her sword, taking a more defensive guard position. Taking one last desperate move, I lunged, ripping the holster away from Iron Mask’s body, throwing it away from the three of us, landing in a bin somewhere. She pulled out another spray can, and maced me. I screamed in pain, as Iron Mask snorted. “Mace in yo’ motherfuckin’ face, bitch! Peace out, nerds!”

  I clawed at my face, but that only seemed to make things worse. I could barely see what was going on, as Iron Mask threw something to the floor, and smoke popped out, covering us, and sending Emma and I into a coughing fit. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged into a room, while Eugene tried to reassure the two of us. I could hear a sink begin to run, and I shoved my head under, desperate to get the pain out of my face and eyes. I could hear talking in the background, but I couldn’t make out who was talking.

  Finally, I collapsed, and stopped waterboarding myself, before stumbling out of the bathroom I’d ended up in. I breathed heavily, and watched Emma close the deal.

  “So how many boxes can we put you down for?”

  “Three to start with. Look, you girls saved my life out there, and I will never forget what the Crystalline Sisters have done for Port Moonstone. I wish I could do more, but my space is limited, and I’ve got to treat this as a business decision. I’ll let you know any feedback the customers have, and we’ll take it from there.”

  With the sale successfully closed, I made sure to run my face and hands under the sink one more time before I left. I even took a photo of Iron Mask’s latest graffiti for good measure: A mural of the Xenomorph queen, depicted behind a soapbox. I’m sure that this was meant to be some kind of political statement, but for the life of me, I couldn’t actually figure out what the hell this was actually meant to mean. Clearly, Iron Mask and Che Saguaro got their poli-sci degrees from the same place. After calling the Major, I let her know what had happened to me. Her criticism stung even more than the pepper spray.

  “Bloody hell. How the hell do you manage to put down that cactus creature, then get wiped by some shithead with a light show and a can of pepper spray? Never mind. You did what you had to do. Did you at least sell anything?”

  “3 boxes, pending feedback from customers”.

  “Look at you two: survived Iron Mask and scored a loyal customer. Go home, get some rest, and try to let me know if you end up in hospital. You two should be proud of your work today.”

  I hung up. I didn’t feel proud. I felt burning and itchy and exhausted. The second I got home, after dousing myself in cold water again, I saw a message from Manannán. Curious, I picked it up. A picture of the beach, and an empty deckchair, facing the ocean, with a message. It’s a lovely picture, but I think it’s missing you.

  I smiled. How long had it been since I’d let myself be really open to romance? I focused on his image in my mind, trying to see if it could fuel my transformation. Still nothing. I pursed my lips, concerned. Maybe I’d somehow been wrong about how my powers worked for over a decade, but then how could Elias possibly fit into the situation?

  I texted Manannán back. You know just exactly what to tell a girl, huh?

  He fired back after a minute or so. I try my best. I’ve got a place by the ocean, and I’d love to finally photograph you there.

  I almost choked on my own saliva. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Manannán was handsome, and there was something about him that just put me at ease. But I’m not so na?ve as to think that a guy with a camera and a place by the ocean has purely artistic intentions. And as well as the date had gone, I was still kind of conflicted. On paper, he was great, but why couldn’t he activate the Crystal Guardian?

  My hands trembled as I looked at the photo of the ocean. The way the sunlight sparkled off the water was amazing, and the way the deckchair was placed looked almost three-dimensional, almost like I could step through my phone, and be there with him. But there were shadows in the water, shapes that I just couldn’t quite make out.

  My thoughts were interrupted by another photograph. The house by the ocean. The place looked beautiful, like a traditional Mediterranean villa, except with some actual space to move around in, and it had a beautiful dark blue roof. I pulled a reverse image search: very stalker-ish of me, but if I did end up taking Manannán up on his offer, I wanted to know exactly where I was. What’s curious is that I couldn’t find the real estate listing up anywhere: possibly a new construction.

  I had no idea how the hell Manannán was affording this on a photographer’s salary: maybe the entrepeneur stuff? I racked my brain and tried to think of how he could possibly be pulling in this kind of cash. Secret influencer and I just didn’t know about it? I searched the full name he’d given me, Manannán McLear, but I couldn’t find anything.

  I was still itchy from the pepper spray, so I shoved my clothes into the wash, and took a cool shower to wash away the last of the itching and liquid pain. Before I stepped under, I texted him. Okay, seriously, how are you affording this on a photographer’s salary? If this wasn’t Port Moonstone, this would be multi-million dollar real estate.

  I’d read somewhere that shampoo could neutralize the worst of a peppery spray attack, so I tried rubbing some on my body. The relief I felt was palpable. After I finished my shower, and drying off, I checked my phone to see if there was a message. None from Manannán, but one from Emma asking if I was better after the pepper spray. I smiled and texted her back. A lot better. And I think I have a plan for how to disentangle myself from Elias. I’ll have to send you a picture of Manannán.”

  I texted Manannán back. Photography was out of the question for now, but I’d be happy to have dinner at his house tomorrow night.

  I relaxed as best as I could, the ghost of chemical pain still dancing across my face and eyes. But I had a more concrete plan, and Manannán’s offer seemed to grow more tempting by the hour. Maybe it was true, what they said: Maybe the best way to get over Elias, was to get under someone else.