MOST RECENT UPDATE TO THE STORY OF KEY CITY

 

Let me set the scene for you. You see a city from above in a bird’s eye view. It spreads out below you in apparently endless neighborhoods. The buildings are a wild   amalgamation of old and new, ancient halls and more modern towers jammed cheek by jowl with neon-lit storefronts – all cloaked in a fog of misty rain and   darkness. There is a strange static feel to the air, as if time itself is suspended and stretched, reused over and over if you will.

 

Suddenly, there is a crackling in the clouds that hang low over the rooftops – a gathering of energy – lightning about to strike. Helplessly you are drawn closer into   the city, zeroing in on a central square where it seems half the population is gathered around a Victorian clock tower that shimmers with weird lights. Mysterious   cogs move slowly in strange mechanisms that surround it. On a hastily constructed dais in the center of this crowded plaza, a dapper, handsome gentleman in a   double breasted vest and a finely tied cravat is feeding glowing tubes into a device that glimmers and shakes. In the crowd around the dais are nine distinct mobs,   grouped around what are clearly their chosen leaders. There is a feeling of distrust in the air, as each Family glares at the others with hands on their weapons. In the   windows above the square there are many figures barely visible behind the shutters and curtains. These quiet, yet menacing silhouettes seem calm, clearly   confident  they have edge over the masses seething in the courtyard below. From the crowd, a broad shouldered man, wearing of all things, cat ears and sunglasses   yells out,

“Hey MAYOR! You better make sure all those power cells with our name on them get used. It would be a CATASTROPHE otherwise.” There are feline yowls and yelps   of appreciation from the group around him. Everyone else in the square simply glares and moves in closer. The man on the dais, clearly the mayor, ignores them all   and continues to feed cells to the strange device, deferring occasionally to two women, holding a tome that seems to have some sort of record keeping function. The   air is electric with power – and with tension. Will it work? The very molecules of air seem to shimmer. SOMETHING is about to happen, the whole city trembles on the   brink. The mayor steps back and shrugs – he is out of power cells.

 

At this moment the alleyways and rainy streets that lead into the central square come alive. Disembodied above, you can clearly see what those crowds, focused  forward and intent on the device cannot. Shadows stepping out of doorways and rushing in from all sides. They swarm into the square and force their way onto the  dais, wielding fists full of power cells like weapons, knocking aside all who stand in their way. Suddenly the device begins spinning and rises into the air – flashing   many colors over the astonished faces that look up in awe. With a crack that is as much felt as heard, the entire metropolis seems to spin. There is a sensation of the   earth shifting, as if in a quake, but the buildings stand firm. Everyone present is knocked down – it takes some time to restore order as in the chaos several of the   groups seem to think they were under attack and lash out at those around them. The Mayor struggles to his feet and rushes to the large arch at the foot of the   clocktower.

 

“HOLD! IT WORKED! We are free! THE PORTAL IS OPEN!”

Through the archway’s ancient stones can be seen a strange new vista. It is a city, but unlike any seen in recent times. There is a castle up on a central hill,  surrounded by grand villas, guild halls and temples. The cobblestone streets seem lined with….taverns? What is happening here? Even as the Mayor frantically works   the mechanisms near the portal, hoping for a new and more modern destination, you feel yourself being pulled from your safe haven as a formless observer. You   feel your consciousness being yanked into a new form, a new life – how can this be? WHAT will you be? You have only a moment to hope that the fates will favor you    – that the dice will roll in your favor – before everything goes black.

Doctor Irritation’s Journal – Excerpts

 

We won…but they’ve beaten us. You’d think that “Heroes” would play fair, but “At great cost to themselves” they’ve sealed us in here. Tell me…what did it cost THEM? I have no idea, news access is controlled here. It is all so….irritating. We want recognition, not exile. 

 

Who do I have to work with?  The Mayor…he’s trying, but I avoid him – if I complain he might start digging into my affairs. The Registration Maven…She’s pleasant to talk to, but neither of us discusses anything of any great value- secrets are secrets. 

 

My laboratory partner – by necessity. Dr Yosarian is a figure to be respected…and perhaps feared. His clone?…vanished when the portal was sealed, leaving only a coat and a false beard. This deeply concerns me.

 

Then…the Cats. They go beyond concerning me into creeping me out. I mean, they wear clothes and they SPEAK. One of them offered me a Manhattan. I drank it – not bad – but I haven’t repeated the experiment…I don’t know where they get their bitters from…

 

Lately I’ve heard rumors that somewhere in this maze of continual twilight there might be a key. I don’t know if this is a physical object, or a metaphor. Still, with my Kindle running out of fresh books, and the bars running low on top shelf booze, maybe I’d better start looking. 

Contributed by Josh Widdowson for STEAMPUNK NOIR

CHAPTER ONE

My office wasn’t the best one in the world, but it served it’s purpose. A few floors above the old Majestic movie theater in Downtown Gettysburg, it gave me good views of the potential clients coming in, but it also was murder on weekends or during the evenings. You ever try to talk serious business with a potential client when you have a Looney Tunes short playing through the walls? Speaking of, they were paper thin, and have not been washed in years. In fact, some of the plaster had flaked off around the building. But the landlord only charged $100 bucks a month, and one perk was I got all the pancakes I could eat at the Lincoln Diner across the street.

 

Trust me when I say this, I’ve feasted and fasted. I only eat pancakes when it’s absolutely necessary. With no clients for a few weeks, I was on my third straight day of eating pancakes and syrup, chasing ‘em with water and longing for some spaghetti and meatballs.

 

The post-WWII years had been kind to the private detective industry. A lot of unrest, that is if you are willing to lower your standards. I had to. There was a time when I would not even touch a divorce case. Now, I can do that with a $300 retainer and $100 a day in expenses. Anything else, $50 a day with two days retainer. It keeps me from hitting the bread lines…most of the time. But as I said, three days of pancakes wasn’t exactly helping me.

 

Leave it to the whims of fate for sending her to my office door. She had more curves than the road from Breezewood to Gettysburg, with her maroon dress hugging each and every one like a race car at Indianapolis. Her blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders, and almost like it was planned, a bit of that goldenrod covered up one of her baby blue eyes. If her hair didn’t, the shadow cast by the wide brim of her matching hat would have.

 

“Are you…Martin?”

For a second, I couldn’t think of any snappy remarks to move the situation
along, but thankfully, it was for that one short moment.

“No, I just have his name on the door as a matter of custom. Yes, I’m Martin.
What do you need?”

“I need something found. It’s a key. A very ornate key that was taken from
me.”

I asked her, “What does it unlock?”

What I didn’t expect was my internal lie detector suddenly going off. I saw her furrow her brow briefly and her baby blues looked up to the heavens before she re-focused on me and said, “It unlocks nothing. It’s just an ornamental key that’s too big for any lock really. It looks like a giant rusted out old key from the Victorian era.”

“Come on, lady, is it really some gold key that has been disguised? If so, I
can recommend Sam Spade to track down that dingus.”

“It really is just common metal. I just have a large collection of keys…that’s
all.”

She then opened her purse and pulled out four green pieces of paper with
U.S. Grant on them. I really didn’t need a reminder of who was on the $50 bill. If she was lying to me, she was willing to make it worth my while. I picked up the paper and they were genuine. So I stopped trying to believe her lies and started to believe her money.

“Well, you meet my minimum requirements, but why not bring the police in on this? They have a whole department called robbery-homicide that will do this kind of thing for free.”

“In my position, Mr. Martin,” she said, her eyes narrowing in on mine,
“discretion is necessary. The police always use a loudspeaker. I need a
whisper.”

“Ok. You want me to bring this dingus back, preferably in a legal way.”

“Yes, but if you need to make any…unscrupulous moves…well, I believe that
you will use your own discretion.”

The woman in red put a drawing of the key on my desk. “Think this, but with a corroded look. It’s made to look ancient, and it’s hefty as well. Let me know when you find it.”

She turned around and started to saunter away from my desk, and she looked back over her shoulder with a come-hither stare that was done by many, but not as expertly as her.

“I’m staying at the Wyndham just outside of town. You can call me there.”

She continued to saunter out, until all I saw of her was her silhouette against the ground glass that surrounded my office door.

I looked down at the picture of the key. I still had some bad feelings about the case, but again, I believed her two hundred smackers, and I had no other client. Not only would the money set me up for a month’s rent, but could also buy groceries for a few months….

0-0-0

CHAPTER TWO

 With her retainer in my pocket, I started to wear out some good layers of shoe leather trying to find this ornamental key.  I started with the pawn shops near my office and worked my way out.  None of them had seen it, but what else was new.  I thought something as ornamental as that would be something that could be fenced, mainly through legitimate means.  But no one had a damn thing.  I knew that I had to talk to my stoolies, which cut into my grocery money a bit, but not by much.  I could always chalk it up as an extra expense.

Graham was always one who knew his antiquities.  He used to work some of the classier pawn shops and some of the lower end antique stores in the greater Gettysburg area.  But even after his fall from grace, he was able to keep his nose in the marketplace.  I found Graham outside O’Rourke’s Irish pub, looking his best to remain in his tattered reenactor’s costume and also looking like he was getting ready to beg for enough money for a short beer.  I walked up to the confederate soldier wannabe and cocked my head to the side to have him follow me. 

“Martin, ain’t seen you in a while…”

“Yeah, I tend to stay away from the battlefields.  I’ve seen all I want to see out there.”

 “You ain’t seen nothin’ until you see that new wax museum they’re putting up.  They’re trying to run me outta business.”

 “The way you look, Graham, you’re already out of business.”

 “Now that you say that, can you see your way to a couple of bucks for a drink?”

 “Not freely.”

 “But I’ve been on my feet all day.”

 “It’s your brain I want you to work for a change.”

Graham let out a disgruntled sigh as we walked into the pub.  I also let out a sigh.  The only way I was going to get any information was to put a beer in front of him, and one will lead to another and another.  We went inside and sat down near the bar.  Waving off the menus, I got us a couple of soft drinks.  Graham didn’t like it, but I figured I loosen his brain with beer too much, he would become incoherent.  I started this gambit by focusing on the key.  I showed the drawing of it that was made by the client, and I noticed that he was studying it carefully, and was looking for any details that she may have left behind.  I also let him know that the key was supposed to be heavier than it looked. 

“Did your client say it was supposed to look like wrought-iron?” he asked.

 I told her she never told me what it was made out of, and then I started to describe her.  As I did, I saw a look of recognition come over his face. 

“I’ve seen that woman around the battlefields.  You be careful of her.”

 “Why?”

 “Sounds like you’ve been hired by the Key Mistress”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You’ve described the legend herself,” he said, “If she’s in action, even after all those heroes sacrificed themselves to seal the doors shut…”

 I thought to myself, “Oh here he goes again…He’s talking about that so-called secret war…did that really exist?”

 Graham continued on. 

“This town got dark quickly.  The only place you see the sun is on the civil war battlefields.  The rest of this town has turned sour, including most of the people.  The war turned some evil, some insane.  Folks like you an’ me…we are exceptions to the rule.”

“There will always be good and bad.  The world ain’t all evil.” I thought aloud.                

“As far as the key goes, some say the Cat mafia got it, some say the science militia, but some think that she…your client…is looking for it as a way to open the door to where she was from, so she could rule this world and the others like it.”

 “Multiple universes?  Graham, you’re sounding like this is a sci-fi world.  This city…”

 “Yeah, I know what you’re gonna say.  ‘This city ain’t seen anything like that in its life.’  It has.  We’re all trapped in the past of the bloodiest battle of the American Civil War thanks to the tourists here.  But you remember that massive explosion?  That set up the crap we have today,” he said, taking along pause before suggesting, “Why don’t you talk to the Mayor or the Maven?  I’m sure that they can tell you more about that.”

“Last time I was within sniffing distance of city hall, I got thrown out on my keister.”

 “But you know the mayor is good.  It was those damn villains that threw you out.  The corrupt officer, what’s-his-name.  Yes, he did some illegal things, but you took care of him.  He’s not on the force anymore.”

 “He’s the least of my worries.  What if I run into the Science militia or the Coterie?  While they stick to their district, it’s possible that they may try to get in the way.”

 “You need to look out for those costumed people.  If ANYONE looked like they came from another world, it’s these gangs,” he said.

 “What, like you?”

 “Look, Lad, I’ve watched over you for a few years.  I know when you’ve got a lot of trouble.  You need to find that key, but never give it back to your client.”

 “Come on!”  I groaned, “I got my ethics to worry about here.”

 “Your ethics will get us all killed in another battle between good and evil.  You got pancakes stuffed in your ears?”

 That hurt.

 “Talk to the Mayor.  He’ll tell you about that key.  He’ll tell you all the trouble it caused.  Besides, who said you had to go to city hall to find him?  I’m sure you can find him at the tea house or the smoke shop.”

I slid a Hamilton his way.  I figured that would take care of a couple of beers for him.  He grimly took the money.

 “You get that key to her, these may be the last beers I drink,” he said.  “Heed my words, lad.”

 I strolled casually out of the bar, looking up into the night sky.  The fog was just starting to swirl around my feet, and I knew it would rise soon.

It always does….

CHAPTER 3

 

Trying to talk to the mayor, no matter how outgoing and pleasant he may seem, is not an easy feat.  He has the manners of the host of a game show, and is pleasant to everyone he meets.  To me, that means he is friends with everyone, even those unsavory souls in the bowery near the old battlefields, the cat mafia, the scientists, the coterie and the millionaires.  Playing to his sensibilities, you needed one thing. 

 Money. 

 Thank God I had a nice-sized retainer in my back pocket after paying the rent and picking up some groceries.  But when I entered the main lobby of city hall, I realized that I may need the “bribe money” for medical expenses. 

There stood Brannigan, the security guard.  Right beside him, seated at the desk, was the Registration Maven herself.  After the great conflict, she herself sprouted dark angel’s wings.  I guess God or whomever is up there decided she was a soul worth saving after the conflict.  By all accounts, she should have died in the explosion that allegedly closed all those magical gates.   

But she kept her gaze down when I walked in.  It was Brannigan’s head who snapped up and looked at me.  He then stood.  The six-eleven 300-pound brute advanced forward quickly. 

“Youse ain’t allowed in here.” He barked. 

He never was like that with anyone else.  He just beaked his cap and let people through.  But on a case just after the cataclysm, I discovered that he was working on the sour side of the law.  I put him away for about six months, and he was thrown off the force.  He now worked private security, and always resented me for ruining his life.  Problem was, with his embezzlement, he was the one who ruined it. 

“I said Youse ain’t allowed…” he started again to say, but I retorted back in a calm voice.   

“I am here to see the mayor.”  I reached for my inside pocket to retrieve my wallet with my detective’s credentials when he grabbed it and wrapped my arm around my back.  He pushed me against the wall and put his whole body-weight against my back.  I could feel him pressing the air out of me when I heard the voice of the dark angel. 

“Hey!  Brannigan, off him!” 

The Maven looked up, with either ink or ickr flowing across her eyes, which made her scary rather than calm. 

“I will not allow a man who ran me down on the force to…” 

“Yes, you will,” she said calmly, “Otherwise you’ll lose your job here.  This is no place to settle grudges.” 

As Branigan let go of my wrist and the air came back into my lungs, I recovered from my momentary black out and shook my head. 

“I am a credentialed detective, retained on a matter to retrieve an item and was told that the Mayor may have a lead on it.” 

The Maven’s stare eased and I almost saw that darkness go away from her eyes. 

“He’s in.  Office is final door in the hallway to the left.  Can’t miss it.” 

Brannigan looked like a wounded pup as I walked by.  The Maven pinched the bridge of her nose and put on her glasses as she returned to her bookkeeping.   

I entered the office and it was laid out in furniture decked in gold and silver, with a moving piece of art behind his desk that stretched from the ceiling to the floor.  While the gears of copper, silver and brass looked like they connected to something, like most of the large decorative machinery that was now in town, this only served a decorative purpose. 

I sat down in front of his desk and he smiled, two rocks glasses in one hand and a decanter full of scotch in the other. 

“Care for a drink?” he asked. 

I politely held up a hand to refuse, but smiled. 

“So you are retained for what?” asked the Mayor. 

I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out my wallet, showed him my detective’s license and then the picture that my client sketched.  “Can you tell me anything about this?”

I also subtly showed him the remainder of the money my client gave me as a retainer, as an offer to maybe grease his palms.

“I’ve not seen this one since the cataclysm.  The event that turned this town into the dark shadowy world that we have now.”

“Look, I am not interested in what some people call real and others like me call fiction.  I just have a client to satisfy, and I have a good record on that.”

“You do, Todd…”

I looked back up at him.

“You do pay attention to the details.”

“In my position, one often does, Mr. Martin,” he replied.  Then he smiled.  His white teeth glittered with what looked like the work of several dental trips to make sure it was perfect.  It was almost….unnatural.

“Do you know why the client wants it?” he said.

“My client wants their collection of key memorabilia restored,” I said, trying to keep even her pronouns out of it. 

“There are some who want to restart the great battle.  It’s like that’s all they can do…fight and destroy….I can’t have that happen in Key City again.”

“You mean, Gettysburg.”

“Use your head, man.  The two names are synonymous.”

“Bull,” I retorted, in a calm voice.  “This is still the town of the bloodiest battle of the American Civil War.  That’s it.”

“Don’t you believe anything about what happened?”

“Never saw it, never lived through it.  It’s also not recorded in anyone’s history.  Not even Funk and Wagnall’s.”

The mayor snickered.

“You always were loaded with old jokes,” He said. 

“Can you give me a toehold on this?”

“Well, I can tell you who to avoid.  The cat mafia has had their paws full with the robots with the laser pointers to even have control of this key.”

“That’s a relief.  Catnip is getting a bit too pricey….why can’t they ever take cash?”

“The scientists had their turn with it, but from what I understood, it was stolen.  You may want to check with the police….except Brannigan….word is the case remains unsolved.”

He stood up, straightened his Mayoral uniform, which made him look more like a marching band drum major than anything else, and he walked back over to put the two unused glasses and decanter back.  I stood up as well, laying a fin on the massive oak desk as a pleasant thank you.  He picked it up, gave it two quick tugs in his hand and smiled.

“I know I didn’t offer much, but I still think I’m overpaid,” he said, flashing his thousand-dollar teeth again.  He looked up, smiled, and pointed me toward the door that had opened with the press of a hidden button.  I started to walk out and noticed that the Maven was not at her desk.  Brannigan was still there, and gave an angry snarl as I walked by the desk.

“You did it to yourself, Brannigan, and we both suffered.  I was thrown out too.  Nobody trusts the snitch, even if they were doing what is right.”

“Just get the hell out of my life,” he snapped.

I just smiled as I walked out into the darkness.  Night fell early…and the fog was creeping in again.  I noticed though that when I walked among the low clouds, I saw the fog parting ahead of me, as if the fates were guiding me somewhere.

I’ve had good luck with fate, so I clutched my lucky poker chip and moved onto the clear path.

CHAPTER 4

I looked up to the skies.  It looked like it was going to rain again.  I could feel the moisture in the atmosphere.  I was going to cut my way through some of the back alleys to get to the police department when some thunder unrolled overhead.  It stopped me in my tracks for about five seconds.

“I know what you want,” said a familiar voice, “but I don’t think she deserves it.”

The Maven.  She knew all, she sensed all.  And she was officially off the clock.

Her wings opened up, and the black ickr was back across her eyes.

“Don’t try to hypnotize me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.  I want you to trust me naturally.”

She stepped out into the alley from the doorway shadow.  Her eyes, unblinking, had also turned from the ice blue I had seen in the office to white, except with two black dots for her irises. 

The wings moved to shield her back.

“One of these days, you’ll have to tell me how you do what you do, and how you know what you know.”

“I’ve told you, but you do not believe me.”

“That’s obviously not important.  Tell me what is.”

“The location of the key is what you seek.  But you must promise to protect it.”

“What do you mean protect it?”

“You’ll be getting it out of the hands of those who wish to use it for ill purposes.  But I want you to make sure that others will not do the same.”

Her voice echoed.  It was like she was trying to put me under some sort of influence. 

“I have a client,” I stated, “My ethics lie in my business.  I always finish the job.”

She reached out and touched my left temple with one finger.  She one time claimed she could read someone’s mind that way.  She lowered her hand quickly. 

“Your client is up to evil intention.  But you still need proof.”

“I don’t necessarily believe her, but I believe her overpaid retainer.”

“I know.  What you want is with the Cutthroat Coture Coterie.”

The jaw dropped.  “You kidding me?  You know that means…”

“Yes, and you may have to go to the costume shop.”

I reached into my pocket for the wallet, but she grabbed my wrist.

“No.  You’ll need the money for the outfit.”

She then stepped back into the shadow of the doorway….

0-0-0

CHAPTER 5

 The Cutthroat Couture Coterie. 

You had to be well-dressed in their outlandish style to even be let in, let alone be granted an audience before the entire coterie and their leader, whose title changed with each costume change they underwent.  These were very rich people with very rich and eccentric tastes.  They were one of the gangs of Gettysburg, yes, but I wondered why they kept changing from month to month.  Was it the whim of the leader, some drug-induced hallucination, or something else?

Well, I wasn’t retained to answer that question.  I was retained to get a key, and they allegedly had it.

 I’ve seen some strange things from them before, so trying to predict what they were doing was nigh on impossible.  And if you go in wearing the wrong thing, your lifespan was reduced by 99%.

Too bad the Maven didn’t have any information on their current mood.  It looked like I was going to have to try some B&E at their headquarters, but I saw another stranger from my days on the force.  She also went private after the whole blackmail investigation, but at least she and I kept on good terms.  She was a warrior with the beauty of a princess, and sometimes the excitement of a unicorn spitting rainbows.  You never knew what sort of side you were going to see of her, but on this occasion, she was outside Sweeney’s tavern, checking ID’s and throwing bums out.  Her black outfit with high heel boots and chain, the black corset and leather jacket with epaulets made her look like she was in a super tight military.  Her mirrored circular sunglasses hid her expression well, and on this occasion, her hair was dirty blonde and straight, pulled back tight in a ponytail.

I recognized her immediately.  General Security.

But I noticed a snicker as I walked by, so I know she wasn’t completely in her dark, serious mood.

I pulled out a cigarette, and asked her, “Gotta light?”

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” She replied.

“Good, I don’t either,” I said to her flicking the cigarette away.  It was a series of phrases to let us know we were in the middle of business, but we could talk.

“At least you’re getting regular work,” I told her, “The bums giving you any problems?”

“Naw,” she said, giggling a little bit like a schoolgirl.  “But you look like you ate recently.  Look, become a bouncer, you get to talk to people, throw people out when they get rowdy…”

“Nah.  I got my personal ethics,” I said.  “I am on a job, though, so I am off pancakes for a while.”

We let silence float in the air as she turned her head from me to in the door.

“We got a few minutes.  One of the unknown johns is about to be brought out to me, but he’s not quite there yet.”

“Ok, you’re my only connection to the Cut-throat Couture Coterie.  What are they doing right now?”

“Somethin’ freaky.  I’ve been telling my kittens to stay away from them for a while” said the General, with her shades down.  “The last thing I want is to be taken out by them for crossing their path.”

She took another look towards the door, then turned back to me.

“They actually have gone in for birds.  Ravens to be exact.”

As a worried look came over my face, a few loud shouts came from inside the bar.  General security then zipped up her leather jacket, pulled a club out of its holster and marched in.  After several minutes of screaming between her and the drunken fool, I heard a whoosh, an impact noise, then a loud groan.

The um then stumbled his way out of the bar, thanks to the propulsion provided by General Security.  I saw that her baton was back in its holster, but her hands were around his waist as she dragged the jerk out of the pub.  The wiry-bearded man was lifted by his pants and shirt into the air by General Security with the greatest of ease before he was pitched across the road as easily as a soldier would throw his duffel.  He landed on his face on the opposite sidewalk, his wire-rimmed glasses shattering on impact.

With a look of amazement, I stared at General Security, as she put her sunglasses back on and leaned against the wall.  The crowd at the door went back in the pub, turning their back on him while he crawled back into the darkness.

“Used some of my unicorn power,” she said, wiping her gloved hands against her leg.  “It comes in handy.”  After a brief pause, she said, “Might I ask why you want to risk life and limb with them?”

“I’m working for a lady who is looking for an old ornamental key”

I saw her eyebrows go up from under her shades, then came back down.

“I don’t think you were around when that calamity came up.  She may have been the one to start it,” she said, with a very serious look in her eyes,  “Check with either the investigative journalist or the radio reporter before you approach her again.”

“You’re not the only one who has gained a sudden interest in my health.”

“If cards are played right, you could be the hero of all of our stories,” she said, “But if it fouls up and we find it’s your fault….your fate will be worse than that drunk I just pitched and you will just have to…” she chuckled before letting the last few words out…  “deal with it.”

“I’ll take my chances.” 

“Very well….oh…take this.”

It was a card with her name on it for the fabric store in town.

“You’ll need every discount you can get.”

CHAPTER 6     

After a trip to the craft store, pleading with my girl Pamela to put together a costume, and building a headpiece that I could properly see out of, I had a costume that while it may not be the best thing the coterie would have seen, would certainly gain some respect.  But I had to wear another few layers of shoe leather off as no taxi cab would take me.  I guess they had a thing against the coterie or any fellow travelers.

So it was on the other side of town, along West Broadway, that I found myself standing in front of a non-descript building that at one point was going to be part of a college.  For people who go all out for decorating themselves, their supposed hideout was as plain as anything.

Of course, you don’t want to stand out either with a big neon sign that says “Home of The Cutthroat Couture Coterie” either….

Pulling the headpiece down over my own noggin, I started to walk forwards to the door.  After three loud knocks with my knuckles, a peephole panel slid open and I saw a yellow eye look all around.  All they saw was my costume.

“You’re not one of us….but you do show some respect.  Do you have a carrrrd?” they squaked.

I pulled out my wallet and slid a card through the mail slot, then showed my detective credentials to the eyeball.  They replied.

“Shamus is too close to a cop to stink….but let me talk with the head of our flock.”

The peephole slid shut before I could get a word in.  I stood there for five minutes before the door started to creak open.  No one was holding it open.  I stepped inside and when my eyes got adjusted to the light, I saw that they transformed the inside into a dark and spooky forest lit in some sort of purplish light.  Through that light, though, a bright yellow arrow was illuminated on the floor.

“Come in, shamus.  Follow the marked path and you’ll be led straight to us.”

As I moved deeper into the “forest” that was created out of Styrofoam, paint and papier-Mache, the only sounds I heard were the ominous sounds of the forest and the eerie cawing of ravens.  I certainly recognized the calls and flinched every time one of them sounded off close to my ear.

It was a few minutes later that I finally came upon the whole…flock.  All five sat at some sort of dinner table on a platform above me, and it looked like that the platform was supported by several trees below it.  I found an X in the floor and stood there, looking up at them.  Their chairman stood up and peered over the table at my form.

“You do us a great kindness and respect, choosing to reveal who you are to us,” he squawked “while finding out our regalia as well.  This is great respect you show for us, Mister Detec-a-tive”. 

I never liked the way he insisted on pronouncing detective.  But how could I argue?

“Chairman and esteemed flock members,” I started to say through my muffled mask, “I have been retained to find a key and to do whatever is necessary to retrieve it.”

“Oh, you mean this?”

One of the more feminine looking members opened the wings that surrounded her chest.  Unlike the maven’s, who were somehow made part of her body, hers were supported by a black harness that blended into her outfit, and moved mechanically to reveal that the dingus was safely around her on a belt.  A thin leather strap supported the ring that held the wrought iron key.  I got a good look at it.

“I’m afraid this is not for sale or for transfer.  No amount of bird feed would satisfy our price for the key.”

“What do you want out of it?  It’s just an ornamental dingus.”

“Is that all you think it is?  Consider this, my good de-tec-a-tive” his bill clicking with each move of his mouth, “That dingus as you call it can open the gates to any world we want.”

My eyes rolled underneath my mask but I let him continue.

“In the right hands, it can bring creativity and light to the world.  In the wrong hands, darkness and chaos!  In our hands….”

He rubbed his hands together and let out a cruel chuckle that was echoed by each of the other ravens with him.

“…it can make us the most powerful coterie in the entire universe,” he sneered.

“My client wants it for her personal collection.  She collects these sorts…”

Before I could finish my sentence, the five disappeared in a flash and in another small explosion of smoke and glitter, they showed up surrounding me in a five-way circle.

“We’ve been waiting for someone to dance with us anyway.”

“Look, I’ve got…” I started to say, but then I was taken up in a dancer’s pose by one of the five.  I couldn’t tell, but this bizarre music that was a cross between a grinding guitar and a waltz started to play and we started spinning round and round.

Trying to move in three-quarters time was not my style.  I was more of a swing dancer, but this felt restricted and rigid.  I was able to keep up with my first partner, but they changed partners quickly and I was now dancing with someone else.  I believe it was the chairman because I recognized the clicking of his bill.  I took the lead and continued to waltz in circles, hoping that at some point I would get to the one who had the key.

They must have read my mind because anytime I got close to her, someone else cut in.  After about four more dances, my legs were feeling like rubber, but I finally got to the waltz partner I needed.  As I grabbed her hand in the air, I felt her guide the other to her waist, and more importantly, to the key.

I looked up, and I saw through her large mask.  I couldn’t see her whole face, but I saw her eyes, and they were full of fear.  She twirled me around to a wall full of similar keys.  She reached out but couldn’t grab one.  I then got closer to the wall, and used my lower hand to grab any key I could.  Quickly putting the dummy key in my pants pocket, I checked it out by feeling it blindly.  It was about the same size and texture of the one that hung from her hip.  I had to be sure on the visuals, so as we changed partners I pulled the key out to take a look….

“Close enough” I thought, and jammed the key back into my pocket before going back in with the chairman. 

Partners changed a few more times before I got back to the one with the key I needed.  I used her wing to shield me as my left hand unbuckled the dingus I wanted, and exchanged it for the replacement on the key ring.  My legs may have been dead but my fingers were still alive.  I never knew where that skill of pocket-picking came from, but it served me well here.

I looked back up after changing the keys, and the fear was gone.  Her hands had gone from stiff and rigid to relaxed and passionate, as if she was finally able to give into the dance and the madness they each experienced. 

As the couples began to break up again and started to dance individually, I felt that the five were now in their own reverie.  If they wanted to build their own world, it would have to be in that warehouse and out of papier-mache and their own lighting.  I high-tailed it out of there and didn’t stop running until I ditched the costume in the nearest trash bin.

It may have been a dirty city, but I tried my best to keep it clean.

I was then able to hail a cab and direct it back to my office above the movie theater.  I didn’t even wait for the elevator.  I ran up the many flights of steps, went into my office and closed the door, locking it in one swift move. 

I then realized in two ways that I had left the door unlocked.  The first was how easily I was able to lock it back up with my back against the door, breathing heavily from my run up the stairs.

The other was the thin, wiry bespectacled man with salt and pepper hair and goatee, standing by my desk.  He had a file folder open that he slowly closed before looking up at me.  Moving the loops on his glasses out of his field of vision, he said one thing.

“Took ya long enough.”

CHAPTER 7

I stared dumbfounded at Hunter Thomas, one of the city’s keenest researchers and an expert in the paranormal field.  My mind went through any number of different ways that he could have gained access to my office that would have been fantastical, but it came down to the fact that in my rush to go to the Coterie’s headquarters across town, I neglected to lock my door.

Not that there was anything of value in my office anyway.  The only thing a burglar would get out of my office is practice.

Thomas looked over the top of his circular wire-rimmed glasses.  “So you found it?” he asked.

Still gasping for air after making the run up the stairs, I said, “None of your business.”

“That key IS my business,” he said with a calm yet serious demeanor.  He flipped open the folder that had been on my desk showing my notes on the case.

“I could get you for B&E, you know,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

“I didn’t break in.  Your door was unlocked, as were the filing cabinets.”

I cursed under my caught breath.

“What the hell do you want with the dingus?  That’s all it is.”

“Not really.  This key will open doorways to alternate dimensions…”

“YOU TOO?” I screamed.  I just about had it with this theory.

“Easy…I want you to try something.”

“What?”

“Try to remember something significant in your life from 20 years ago.  You should have been a teenager then.” He said.

He saw the look on my face as I tried to remember some part of my teenage days….I couldn’t remember a thing.  Not my first car, not any of my classes…not even about the battles I fought and won…Although my casebook was filled with memories, I looked back over them and I felt like I was watching a movie….not reliving the memory…

“It’s ok.  Let it happen.”

“No…it’s not happening…where are my memories?”

“It’s because you are a creation of that woman.”

Things were now beginning to make sense.  She created me because I could find the item she could not find.

Then memories did come back to me…but they were of me being different people…

a Victorian barber…

a moustache-twirling race car driver…

a magician…

a reporter…

a filthy man with a bear’s skin determined to beat the devil…

But how?  But why?

“Welcome to the new reality.”

“Yeah,” I said, “But which one?”

“The right one.  You’re feeling the effects of the key.  You’re seeing all the realities that she created.  That’s the magic.  She can see the different realities, and create others.”

“What happens if she creates more?”

“Then the whole of the space-time continuum will fall apart….and we may not exist anymore.”

“So….what you’re saying is, we could see…”

“Another cataclysm…if that key gets back to her.”

 I had to sit down.  I staggered over to my desk chair and sat down, putting the key on the desk in the middle of the blotter.

“That is some scary stuff, Thomas.” I said.  “I now know why that woman who was holding on to it was so scared.  She didn’t want a cataclysm to happen accidently.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to set one off either.  We need to put this key into some deep containment.  Any suggestions?”

“Not any of the monuments.  I don’t think concrete is strong enough.  Maybe a bank vault?”

“That’s not bad,” said Thomas, “But I don’t know of any bank that would be willing.”

“Lucky me.  I have a favor or two to cash in.”  I said as I made my way to my office phone, picked up the receiver and started to dial.

“Bank of Gettysburg?  Yeah, this is Todd Martin.  Look, this is official business, and I need to talk to someone in charge of the safe deposit boxes, Madge Jones.”

Thomas gave me a quizzical look.

“Madge?  How’s every lil’ thing?  T’is, eh?  Look, I don’t have any time for jokes about your family.  I need to cash in on all those dates I paid for.  Yeah, I need one of the safest places you got.  I have an….artifact that needs safe keeping for a long period of time.  You got a place?  Oh the deeper the better.  The world is depending on this one.”

She then uttered a few words of disbelief that I might have said a few minutes ago.

“Look, it’s cash in time.  You got a place or not?”

CHAPTER 8

I’ll say this for Thomas, I’d let him ride shotgun anytime.  He kept a careful watch out while we took a taxi to the bank.  I looked him over, and he started to dive into his pocket?

“You may have to return her retainer…how much you need?”

“Let’s make it a nice hundred.”

Without a word, he pulled a fresh Franklin out of a large wad of money and put in my hand.  “Return it to her after you seal that thing up in the vault.”

“At least my job’s ethics will be clear.  But what do I do to pay you back?”

“Let’s say that now have a favor I can cash in.”

We arrived at the bank, and he paid the driver of the cab.  But as we got out and made our way in, I felt there was something not right.  I could tell that too with Thomas.  He kept flipping the eyeglass loops down and up, as if he was checking something that I couldn’t see.  We made our way past all the tellers, who seemed to be busy counting their drawers.  The small gate to the back of the bank opened, and entered the large vault. 

It felt intimidating to be among all the safe deposit boxes, especially the larger ones that I imagined held stacks of money.  I looked over and there was Madge, standing with an open box and a small key in her hand.  I looked back and gave her a wink. 

“Let me inspect the item to make sure it is not anything illicit or illegal.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Standard operating procedure,” she snapped back.

I sighed and extended my hand with the key in it.

“NO!” said Thomas.  He had been looking through the yellow lens on one of his loops. 

But it was too late.  I then saw Madge dissolve away.  The form shifted through different versions until it came upon…

My client.

“Thank you, Martin!  And thank you for bringing my opponent to the party.”

I didn’t let go of the key when she grabbed it.

“I should have figured.  What have you done with Madge?”

“Madge?  Oh, you don’t understand, detective.  I had to make a change at the last possible second.  Granted, she’s now a part of me, but…her sacrifice was for my greater good.”

I turned back to Thomas.

“No way.  I’m trying to fight her.” He replied to the unasked question.

I looked back to my former client…pulled the money out of my pocket.

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

I then felt the key in my hand turn scorching hot in an instant.  I let go of it, and she became the sole possessor of the key.  In a fit of anger, I threw the $200 back at her.

“What was that for?” she laughed.

“At least my conscience is clear.”

She just cackled as a giant circular gateway opened.  I saw a world from Victorian times through it, but it was a different Victorian times…it was full of gears and mechanical works…I also saw another portal open and it looked like the world of cowboys and the wild west, again with an ancient looking future with it.  A third door opened that looked like the haunted hideaway that I was in with the coterie…

Then more doors opened with many different worlds.  She cackled as I looked back at her….her blonde hair blown back and it now revealed those piercing blue eyes…I recognized her finally. 

The Key Mistress.

As chaos started to build once again, the memories finally flooded back.  I looked to Thomas.

“You believe me now?!?” he yelled as the din in the room increased in volume.  I felt like I was being blown back to the safe’s door.  The massive door had closed and locked, but even it started to shake and soon, the energy from the alternate universes broke the safe door off it’s hinge.  The two of us flew backwards, across the room and landed on the other side, against the wall.

“I remember now.” I said  “Everything!  She made me fucking forget!  She played me!” 

He and I both stood.  I noticed he changed into some Victorian assassin with a long rifle, a shock of white hair and purple raiments.

I casually pulled my six shot policeman’s special out and checked it…Full of ammo and I knew I had more bullets in my pocket.  I looked over to Thomas, and we both said at the same time….

“Here we go again…”

 

 

 

This is where the story ends for now. 

We invite you to take up the story at Key City Steampunk in August. 

The fate of our world lies in your hands.

Good luck….and watch your back…