"Trench Coats and Love Notes -By;Fernand jiro And Joan
Sheer red rock cliffs rose up as far as the eye could see, dwarfing the woman standing at their base. She gazed upward, squinting through a pair of dark sunglasses.
“We’ll stop at nothing to find him, Dark Horse, I promise,” she muttered under her breath, “Me ‘n my stupid promises.” Shaking her head, she bent down and pulled off her left shoe. Odd though it was that she wore such a shoe in terrain such as this, it remained a thing of beauty, sparkling clean despite the red dust. She held it before her and clicked a button on the heel. A hidden screen appeared inside the toe, “Agent Rubix, this is Agent Glass Slipper, do you copy?”
“I copy, Glass Slipper, go ahead,” came the voice on the other side, crackling with static through the communicator. The screen fizzled to life, and Glass Slipper could just make out a woman in a dark purple trench coat.
I need to get Cardboard Hut to fix this, she thought to herself, before remembering with an unpleasant jolt that Cardboard Hut couldn’t fix anything at the present. “I don’t see any sign of the hidden circus here, but the map’s out of clues,” Glass Slipper clenched said map in her other hand, crumpling it up. “I think we’ve been led on a wild goose chase. This is just the sort of thing Silver Spoon…”
“Read the last clue again.”
With a sigh Glass Slipper uncrumpled the map, “Up and up the red rocks climb, hurry now, you’re short on time. Quick, quick, don’t fret and fume, by noon you’ll hear a loud kaboom.”
“I should think it’s obvious,” Rubix said, “Up and up, the red rocks climb. You’ve got to climbthem, Slip.”
“I don’t like the sound of this kaboom business.” Glass Slipper mumbled.
“Then I suggest you should do as the map says and hurry.”
“Alright, alright, I’m on it. Glass Slipper over and out.” She clicked the button on the heel again just as Agent Rubix said, “Good Luck.”
Glass Slipper replaced her left shoe, and glanced up at the cliffs. It was a long way up to be sure, but she’d climbed higher, sheerer surfaces with less equipment and more at stake. She placed her hand against the rock wall and smiled despite herself, “Piece of cake.”
* * *
“And sous-sus, mount, pirouette. Again, sous-sus, mount, pirouette. Again, sous-sus, mount…arms, Hut, ARMS,” Agent Featherlite corrected the offender’s arms with growing frustration, “We’ve been through this twice already. Come now, Hut – how do you expect to gain any sort of victory over Ballerina Man dancing like this?”
“Pull out a Vex-2060 and vaporize him,” Agent Cardboard Hut muttered under her breath, thinking of her latest invention.
“You’ll never get on pointe at this rate,” Featherlite continued, choosing to ignore Hut’s mumblings, “Your pirouettes are a disaster. You’ve got to spot, dearie.”
“Just pull a trigger and….”
Featherlite sighed a heartfelt sigh and adjusted her sunglasses, “Begin again. Five, six, ready and sous-sus…”
Cardboard Hut tried again to do the routine as well as the other agents, but her mind refused to stay in the studio. It wandered to her suspended badge. She had to earn it back. She wasn’t allowed to help Rubix, Glass Slipper, and Dark Horse until then. No missions. No building and repairing secret devices. No inventing another use for duct tape. Nope – her life consisted of dance lessons, paperwork and refilling the water-cooler until she passed her secret agent test. She’d already tried to retake it twice -- if she failed this time, she could kiss her memories and her team goodb….
“Hut! ARMS!”
Cardboard Hut sighed and fixed her arms before Featherlite could do it for her. The other agents sniggered in their noses, but said nothing as they all began the routine again.
“Sous-sus, mount, pirouette – and chainne, chainne, chainne, arabesque, sous-sus, mount, pirouette, aaaand finish,” Agent Featherlite raised her long, graceful arms into position with the other dancers as the music ended. “Lovely, ladies, lovely. You’re all excused. Hut,” she turned to the place where Cardboard Hut should have been but saw no one, “Agent Cardboard Hut?” The class sniggered again.
“Down here, Featherlite.”
“What are you doing on the floor, Hut?”
“Well, I tripped on the arabesque.”
Featherlite threw a hand to her forehead, “And Ballerina Man would have finished you by now.”
“Not really,” Cardboard Hut pushed herself up, “He’d be too busy laughing his tutu off.” The class laughed, and Hut smiled appreciatively.
Featherlite’s nostrils flared as she crossed her stick thin arms over her stick thin body, “You think it’s a laughing matter, do you? Ballerina Man is deadly dangerous…”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Cardboard Hut muttered.
“…and a far better dancer than you’ll ever be.”
“And that’s the truth,” Hut shrugged, “So why do we even try?”
“You’ve got to be prepared.”
“Look, I’ve faced Ballerina Man hundreds of times, and lived to tell the tale. To tell you the truth, he’s not all that…”
“But have you captured him yet? Have you brought him to justice?”
“No, but neither have you, and you’re the best ballerina here. I don’t think dance is going to capture him, Agent Featherlite.”
“You just bring that up with the Commander and Ch…”
“Besides. I can’t go on any more missions until I pass my test.” Cardboard Hut bit her lip to keep her temper from rising. She knew that it was a matter of time before she exploded at someone.
Agent Featherlite’s expression softened, as did those of the other agents in the class. No one envied Cardboard Hut’s position. “You’ll do it this time, I’m sure of it,” Featherlite said in a soothing voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” Cardboard Hut rolled her eyes and stomped out of the studio, leaving the others to talk about her as they chose. She hated the pitying expressions almost as much as she hated ballet.
Out in the vestibule, she found her bag and unzipped it with vigor. She rummaged until she found her baggy camouflage cargo pants and pulled them on over her leotard and tights. Something fell from one of her many pockets. As this was not an uncommon occurrence, she caught it without missing a beat, and stared at it.
What’s this? she thought, suspiciously eyeing the thick white envelope. A red wax seal and gold ribbon gave it a very old fashioned, almost romantic feel. Eyes narrowed, she pulled her shaded goggles from her bag, snapped them to her face and fiddled with a hidden button on the right rim. The goggles activated and quickly scanned the envelope for signs of danger, but found none.
Her curiosity mounting, Cardboard Hut lifted the goggles, ripped open the envelope without ceremony, pulled out the letter and shook it open. She squinted at the elegant scrawl, but then widened her eyes in shock and flushed.
Dearest Cardboard Hut,
Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance. I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met. Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.
Your Secret Admirer
Oh dear, she thought, still in wide-eyed shock, Who in the world…I don’t recognize the handwriting. Must be a joke…
But before she could ponder it further the dance room door opened and the rest of the class began to trickle out. Cardboard Hut shoved the note into one of her pockets, swung her bag over her shoulder, and marched out the door, her mind awhirl.
I should at least go and meet him. Find out who it is. Maybe it’s Twit! She smiled at the thought of Agent Twitterflit, an overly romantic young man who specialized in encrypting secret messages into soppy novels. Sounds like something he would do. I should at least pay him the courtesy of turning him down to his face. Oh, but what if it’s not Twit? What if it’s a prank after all…yeah, it’s gotta be a prank. Someone’s definitely setting me up for a laugh…
Her mind thus engaged, she marched swiftly down the hall toward the elevator without realizing where she was until she ran smack dab into someone and fell backward.
“And this is why you can’t pass your test, Hut, you don’t pay attention!”
“Hey, I don’t need a lecture from you too, Dark Horse. Madam Featherbrain’s covered that.” She glared up at him as he hastily tucked something into the front of his coat, “Besides, you ran intome, just as well as I ran into you.”
“Fair enough,” he smiled and offered her his hand, “And how are the dance lessons.”
“Terrible, as usual,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her to her feet. Her eyes suddenly narrowed. Was it her imagination, or did Dark Horse look a little flushed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked uncomfortably.
She analyzed him a split second longer. He did look flushed. Embarrassed even. – and in a way that had nothing to do with his accidentally knocking her over, as this was not an uncommon occurrence either.
“Oh nothing,” she responded airily, “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“Looking for you, of course. I’d like to speak to you in private if you don’t mind.”
Her scrutinizing expression cleared. It couldn’t be Dark Horse – sneaky, secretive love notes definitely weren’t his style. Not to mention his handwriting wasn’t that girlie. “Sure thing,” she said cheerfully, “We can use my office, it’s closest.”
* * *
“Agent Rubix, this is Glass Slipper, do you copy?”
“I copy, Glass Slipper, go ahead.”
“I’m at the top…”
“I noticed. Why do you keep using your shoe anyway?”
“The communicator on my shades broke last mission, remember? I haven’t had time to talk to Hut about…” she trailed off, again realizing that Hut wouldn’t be allowed to fix it even if Glass Slipper had had time to visit her. “Anyway, I see nothing by way of hidden circuses. Who gave you this tip-off anyway? It’s lousy.”
“I told you, it was anonymous. You’ve been griping about this mission since we started. What’s your problem? Never mind, just keep looking; I’ll bring the chopper around. Over and out.
“I just need to be back before tomorrow,” Glass Slipper muttered to herself as she again replaced her left shoe. She straightened up and scanned the plateau on which she now stood. Nothing but barren red rocks and sterile blue sky met her gaze. It would be a while before the chopper arrived. Massaging her sore muscles, Glass Slipper sat on a convenient rock to wait, pulling a thick white envelope, once sealed in wax, from her thigh holster.
Dearest Glass Slipper,
Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance. I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met. Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.
Your Secret Admirer
Her mind ran over the male agents she came in contact with on a regular basis. Surely it couldn’t be Agent Dark Horse; he had much more class than that. Not to mention that his handwriting wasn’t half so loopy and frilly. Her immediate suspicion, Agent Twitterflit, was driven out by her knowledge of his decided affection for Agent Rubix. Then there was Agent Swell Well – he flirted with anything female that moved, even Agent Wobbles, the old navigation counselor. But Glass Slipper knew on secret intelligence that Swell Well was now posted in Peru, and would have no way of slipping a message like this one into her inbox this morning, not to mention get back to HQ tomorrow by six o’clock. Perhaps it was Agent Groban! Her eyes glazed over a bit at this pleasant thought – a thought that made her impatient to be back at HQ ASAP -- but a loud bang soon drew her from her reverie.
KaBOOooOoOOOoOM!
A rock at the center of the plateau exploded, and she had to dive behind what had previously served as a chair to avoid a shower of stone shrapnel. The world shook with echoes of the blast, and Glass Slipper heard at least a dozen rock slides crash down into the ravine below.
Ages ticked by before the dust settled and the rumblings ceased. Glass Slipper stood and dusted herself, pulling a pebble or two nonchalantly from her now frazzled blonde hair before turning toward the center of the plateau.
Where a large boulder had once stood, a verdant patch clashed with the deadness of its dry surroundings. Glass Slipper approached it cautiously, her glass gun drawn for comfort. Before she had crept halfway across the plateau, a tiny beeping caught her attention.
“Agent Glass Slipper, this is Agent Rubix. Do you copy?”
“In a minute,” Glass Slipper muttered, she could see a white plinth in the center of the green patch.
“Agent Glass Slipper, this is Agent Rubix. Do you copy?”
She took longer strides now, her gun still drawn, her eyes darting over her surroundings for signs of movement.
“Glass Slipper, please respond!!” Rubix’ voice held a note of hysteria now.
Glass Slipper sighed and pulled off her left shoe. “I hear your, Rubix,” she said irritably, “What is it?”
“You’re alright! Thank goodness. I could hear that kaboom even from the air. What’s happened?”
“A boulder at the center of this plateau exploded, and there was something inside it. I suspect Dandelion Dave…”
“What do you see?”
“There’s some sort of pedestal where the boulder was, and it’s surrounded by…I think that’s regular lawn grass, no sign of dandelions though,” she took a step closer, “There’s something on the pedestal – something very colorful and…. My word, I don’t believe it. It’s a Rubik’s cube!”
* * *
Cardboard Hut’s office was more of a warehouse than anything, and large enough to hold at least two F-16s, which were both laying in pieces in the center of the room. Mounds of Government Issue cardboard boxes lined the wall space that wasn’t taken up by tool racks, which displayed equipment of various shapes and sizes, from a rusty, dusty pitchfork to a near empty roll of duct tape.
Despite all the open space of her “office”, her business desk stood crammed in the corner, where Hut had hoped she wouldn’t have to look at it. In her mission days she had hardly used it, except to store paperclips, but now it was littered with official memos and other boring paper-things. She looked blushingly away from the mess, not that it embarrassed her to be untidy, but because the mess was a sign of use, a sign of her ignominy.
Dark Horse eyed the thin layer of dust that had gathered over Cardboard Hut’s mechanical paraphernalia, “They even keep you from tinkering these days, do they?”
Cardboard Hut nodded glumly, eyeing the nearest F-16 with something like hunger before turning back to her comrade. “Pull up a box,” she said, offering Dark Horse a cardboard box and taking one herself. Her swivel chair was filed with another box of random gizmos and gadgets, “And how goes the search for Mountain Thunder?”
Dark Horse’s expression hardened, “Last we heard, the hidden circus had moved again. Rubix got an anonymous tip-off in her inbox this morning, but I get the feeling that by the time she and Slip get there it’ll be gone. They’re always one step ahead of us…” he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Hut. All our equipment keeps malfunctioning. We’re starting to suspect it’s the work of them, you know. They’ve notice you’re not with us. Anyway, we need…”
“I can’t,” Hut said dully, “You know I can’t.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not a question of can and can not.”
“Talk to Agent Tinkerbell, he’ll…”
“Tink’s on holiday, and besides, he’s not half as good as you…”
“Stop it, I’m blushing,” Cardboard Hut giggled, then turned serious again in a blink, “Look. I’m about this close to getting the boot…”
“And the longer we argue about this, the longer Mountain Thunder has to wear a tutu and perform like a prancing pony!” Dark Horse jumped to his feet, his hands clenched into fists, “He’ll have no dignity left by the time we reach him!”
Cardboard Hut surveyed him calmly, before murmuring, “I can’t, Dark. Look,” she grabbed a memo, crumpled it, and threw it toward the nearest tool rack. The wadded paper flew through the air straight toward a collection of wrenches, but it never struck them. It rebounded off of something invisible a foot from them, bursting into flames in a shower of sparks.
“What the…?”
“Force field,” Cardboard Hut grunted, “They’ve cut me off from all my tools, all my materials, just about everything in this room with one rotten force field. I can only reach my desk. And these,” she tapped the box of salvaged gizmos fondly.
Dark Horse turned to her, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses, “You don’t need Rubix to see your way outta this one, Hut,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “A force field? A force field? You’ve shut down more complex things then a lousy force field…”
“If I shut it down, they’ll know!”
“And besides, these aren’t the only tools in the country. Go to the hardware store, for Pete’s sake.”
“You think my going to a hardware store will go unnoticed, do you?” Cardboard Hut found her favorite hat on her desk and pulled it over her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him.
“I’ll go get you what you need.”
“Fancy getting the boot too?” Cardboard Hut turned away from him, “They’ll know what you’re up to. Send a letter to Tink, talk to the apprentices, or whoever you want, but leave me out of this.”
“They’ve tried, but they can’t figure it out. After all, you invented all our equipment…”
“Which is probably why it’s breaking down!” Cardboard Hut jumped to her feet, ripped the hat from her head and faced Dark Horse, tears on her face, “Don’t you get it?” she half-yelled, gesturing wildly, “There’s a reason I’ve been suspended! There’s a reason they don’t want me inventing things for other people. I’m not up to par! I’m useless! Now get out of my office, I’ve got to finish this paperwork,” she spat the word in disgust. She turned from him and pushed the box of gizmos from her desk chair without flinching at the sound of so many little machines breaking, and sat down heavily.
Before she could swivel toward her desk, cutting off the conversation completely, Dark Horse placed a hand on her shoulder. “We all believe in you,” he said quietly, “You’re not short on talent or skill, you’re short on…”
“Confidence, I know. You’ve been talking to Glass Slipper about this haven’t you? I’ve heard this sermon before. Please leave, I’ve got work to do.”
Dark Horse shook his head in disbelief and did as she asked. Out in the hall, he pulled something from the front of his jacket – a thick white envelope.
Dearest Dark Horse,
Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance. I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met. Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.
Your Secret Admirer
So it’s definitely not Cardboard Hut, he thought sheepishly, And Glass Slipper and Rubix are out on a mission, they couldn’t have left it either. Could be Flit. He chuckled to himself at the thought of Agent Flittertwit, Twitterflit’s fraternal twin. She worked in Twit’s department, only her specialty lay in encrypting soppy poetry rather than novels. It could be a joke. Just the sort of thing the girls would cook up... --by “the girls” he meant the rest of his team; Rubix, Glass Slipper, and Cardboard Hut, but he knew they were far more mature than to pull his leg like this.
I guess I’ll find out at six tomorrow. He tucked the note back into his coat and turned his thoughts to Cardboard Hut’s dilemma. She had one more chance to pass the test, and the stress had worn her down to breaking point, as he had just witnessed. But the stress wasn’t only affecting her; the entire team had started to crumble under the pressure. They’d worked together for years, ever since their second training camp in Quebec.
If they’d just exercised a smidgeon of faith in her, let her do one more mission, I’m sure she’d blow them all away, he thought bitterly.
A timid beeping cut into his thoughts. He drew a silver pocket watch from his vest and flipped it open, twiddling a little knob on the top to activate a hidden screen on the clock’s face.
“Agent Dark Horse, this is Agent Glass Slipper, do you copy?”
“I copy Glass Slipper, go ahead.”
“We were unable to locate the circus…”
“What else is new?” Dark Horse sighed heavily.
“This is Agent Rubix, requesting admittance to the transmission.”
“Request confirmed,” Dark Horse’s screen split in two, showing both his comrades.
“We suspect the map to be the work of them,” Rubix sighed, “It lead us to yet another clue, we think, trapped inside…”
“This Rubik’s cube,” Glass Slipper held it up so the others could see it.
“We’ll have it solved in a jiffy, soon as I can get there –for the last time, stop fiddling with it, Slip, you might hurt yourself.”
Glass Slipper let her hands fall to her side, for she had indeed started trying to solve the Rubik’s cube again.
“Dark Horse, how goes operation Broken Fourth Wheel?” Rubix asked quietly, her voice crackling through the static.
“Not well,” he said glumly, “There’s not much chance of fixing the fourth wheel without taking dire action.”
“And what are you suggesting as dire action?” Glass Slipper inquired with mounting excitement.
“By dire I mean ignoring certain limitations…”
“Ignoring the can of bacon?” Glass Slipper smiled.
“Shattering the sunflower bottle?” Rubix’ eyes widened behind her dark glasses.
“Exactly,” Dark Horse said, his mouth set in a grim smile, “I mean, ignoring the can of bacon, shattering the sunflower bottle, and bringing the clumsy buffalo to the peanut butter patch.”
“No you won’t,” a fourth voice cut into the conversation, and the clock face split into a third screen, “I know you’re talking about me, and I know you’re talking about smuggling me along on the next mission. Don’t even think about it. I won’t go. I won’t have you guys booted on my behalf. And I take umbrage at being referred to as a clumsy buffalo.”
Rubix chuckled. “How long have you been listening to our transmissions, Cardboard Hut?”
“Since I was suspended, whaddya think? Now no rule breaking for my sake…”
“Who’s breaking rules,” Glass Slipper smiled broadly.
Cardboard Hut made a tutting noise and closed her end of the transmission, but not before uttering something that sounded remarkably close to a swear.
“Who spit in her cereal?” Glass Slipper said with a raised eyebrow.
“The higher ups, that’s who,” Dark Horse replied despondently. “She’s probably still watching you know,” he added because Glass Slipper had lifted her arms like a very inept ballerina in a perfect impression of Cardboard Hut.
“I’m not making fun of her; I’m making fun of that Featherlite. --such a nag.”
“I don’t trust her,” Agent Rubix said coolly, “Her dance patterns are far too much like Ballerina Man’s.”
“We’ve been over this Rubix,” Glass Slipper rolled her eyes, which no one saw because of her shades, “Martial ballet’s a rare art form. It’s the same everywhere.”
“I agree with Rubix,” Dark Horse began, “There’s something really fishy about…”
“Sorry guys, gotta cut this transmission short. I’m coming in to land. Rubix, over and out.”
“Just throw me the ladder. Gah! I’d better go too,” Glass Slipper shouted over the noise of the oncoming helicopter, “She’s my ride ya know. We can talk about Featherlite and the buffalo gal when me ‘n Rubix get back. Over and out.”
“Now that we know she’s in on our transmissions, we should probably stop calling her a buffalo,” Dark Horse muttered to himself with a smirk, closing his pocket watch with a satisfying clack. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he heard a distinctive snort issue from it before he snapped it shut and tucked it into his vest.
* * *
Agent Rubix had the cube solved in a matter of seconds, as this was her specialty. As soon as she solved it, she threw it back toward the plinth, grabbed Glass Slipper, and dove behind the nearest rock.
KaBOOooOoOOOoOM!
The Rubik’s cube exploded, destroying the plinth and the small patch of grass around it. “Ithought that looked like one of mine,” she said, standing and dusting herself off, “Normal Rubik’s cubes don’t have a purple square.” She sighed, “And this clue was apparently a dud. Shall we be going, Glass Slipper?”
“What’s that?” Glass Slipper asked, pointing toward something white fluttering like a demented butterfly against the purpling firmament, “The cube threw that out sky high before it exploded.” It floated closer and she snatched it – a thick white envelope sealed in red wax and a gold ribbon, “It says your name on the back,” she said, handing it to Rubix.
Rubix took it and twiddled with something on her sunglasses, scanning the letter as Cardboard Hut had done. When she saw nothing, which didn’t surprise her because her scanner was having troubles, she took the envelope and slit it open with one of her long, sharp, multicolored fingernails.
Dearest Rubix,
Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance. I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met. Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.
Your Secret Admirer
“Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain…” Rubix tucked the note into the front of her coat, “Well at least he’s polite. Who would go through all this trouble to ask me out?”
“Who do you think? It was probably Twit!” Glass Slipper nudged Rubix in the ribs.
“Twit has never been a secret admirer,” Rubix said dryly.
“It could be Agent Blueshirt!”
“Perhaps…” Rubix liked the thought of that. “Oh, but what if it’s Agent Dark Horse? That could mess up the team…”
“More than it’s already messed up, you mean?” Glass Slipper said dolefully, “Nah, I thought it could be Dark Horse on mine too, but his handwriting isn’t girlie like that. And I don’t think secret love notes are really his style.”
“Yeah, you’re right…wait a minute,” Rubix turned sharply to her comrade, “You got one too?”
“Yeah!” Glass Slipper said brightly, brushing a strand of very blonde hair from the front of her sunglasses, “It said the exact same thing on mine too. Giggling Fountain, six o’clock. Wait a minute…” her eyes widened, “You know what this means?”
Rubix nodded curtly.
“It means it’ll be a double date at the Giggling Fountain! I’m so glad. It would’ve been so much more awkward alone!”
Rubix looked heavenward, breathing through gritted teeth and praying for patience. She faced Glass Slipper, “It means that someone’s trying to get the both of us in one place. The Giggling Fountain is a very secluded area…”
“Of course it’s secluded. If I were writing secret love notes, I wouldn’t have us meet where everyone could see.”
“Could you be any more blonde? It’s a trap!”
“You think everything’s a trap.” Glass Slipper pointed an accusing finger at Rubix, “You even thought this mission was a trap, but it was just some guy trying to ask you out. I should think you’d be flattered.”
“Well, I’m not, to tell you the truth,” she pulled off one of her Rubik’s cube earrings.
“What are you doing?”
“-- calling Dark Horse. He should know about this.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Glass Slipper grabbed the earring, “He could have written one of our letters.”
“Then I’ll call Cardboard Hut. --gimme my earring back.”
“But she’ll feel bad that she didn’t get a secret love note too! There’s no use making her feel worse than she already does.” Glass Slipper kept a tight hold on the earring communicator until Rubix nodded with pursed lips.
“Fine, let’s get out of here,” she turned to the helicopter then changed her mind and turned sharply back, “But promise me one thing. If you must go to this rendezvous, promise me you’ll go armed.”
“Tch, like I wouldn’t,” Glass Slipper rolled her eyes again behind her sunglasses, “It could be anyone – even Agent Bugbear. I might have to run for it.”
“Exactly,” Agent Rubix said, turning back to the helicopter, “…exactly.”
* * *
The next day, at 17:45 by her watch, Cardboard Hut stood from her deskwork and stretched. With a surreptitious glance around her office, she marched to and out the door, walked down the hall, past the water-cooler and a dozen or so other offices, and into one of the many elevators.
She met Agent Twitterflit as she came out of the elevator on the main floor. Though she bid him a good evening, he merely waved at her with his usual vague expression, muttering something that sounded like a sonnet.
“…but what rhymes with Rubix?” he asked himself dolefully, “Where is Flit? She would know…”
She met no one else as she took a roundabout way out into the gardens, and approached her destination with caution. Few people came to the Giggling Fountain because of its highly obnoxious sound, so it came as a mild and disconcerting surprise that she heard voices above the gurgled sniggering laugh of the water as she listened behind a stone archway.
“You?!” a female shrieked, “I could’ve sworn it wasn’t you! The team’s too important to you to pull something like this.”
“For the last time,” barked a male voice with a slight western twang, “I didn’t write you a secret love note! But I thought you at least would’ve cared enough about the team to hold off on something like this...”
“I told you! I didn’t write you a secret love note either.”
“Well now that that’s settled, you guys can stop shouting at each other,” Cardboard Hut said huffily, coming around the corner.
“Wait a minute – you didn’t…”
“Keep your chaps on, Dark Horse, I didn’t write any secret love note either. In fact, I received one, look,” Cardboard Hut drew the envelope from one of her countless pockets and handed it to him.
“It looks just like mine!” Glass Slipper and Dark Horse said together.
“And Rubix got one like that too!” Glass Slipper’s expression froze, “She was right!” she moaned, “This must be a trap after all.”
“Very good, Glass Slipper. Very good,” an unmistakable voice simpered in its usual Russian burr, “I knew that your acute little mind would figure it sooner or later.”
“Silver Spoon!” Glass Slipper gasped, whirling toward the sound.
“Yes, it is I,” he stood atop one of the ivy-clad walls, brandishing his silver and ebony cane. His white lab coat and hurly-burly hair stirred gently in a light breeze, and he readjusted his mauve bowtie with a satisfied smirk.
“Fortunately you don’t have the sense to listen to your smart little friend. She nearly blew it for us, eh Spoon?”
“Shade Darker,” Dark Horse said stiffly, turning to see his arch nemesis standing atop the adjacent wall.
“Howdy, wot, wot,” Shade Darker smiled his all-too European smile and tipped his white Stetson toward Dark Horse, whose lip twitched as he took in the other’s attire. Everything from his over shined snakeskin boots to his lily-white duster and red-gold vest screamed poser. And the monocle certainly didn’t add.
“Speaking of the brainpan, where is she?” A man in a yellow suit stepped atop the next wall, histufty white hair sticking out of his anomalous green head like dandelion fluff, “Surely she didn’t abandon you when she knew it must be a trap. Not after I spent so much time preparing this. I had her in mind, you see.”
“Dandelion Dave,” Glass Slipper whispered, “That leaves…”
“Oh wait, here she is!” A fourth voice called in a confusing but familiar accent. Cardboard Hut had never quite decided if it were American, French, or Mexican.
“Ballerina Man,” she moaned.
“Rubix!” Glass Slipper cried.
“Mountain Thunder!” Dark Horse drew his revolvers and spun them around his hands, “You take that tutu off him right now!” he roared, pointing his guns at the figure of Ballerina Man standing in fifth position beneath the stone archway. In one hairy but graceful arm he held a limp Rubix, bound and gagged, sunglasses askew, in the other he held the reins of a magnificent winged horse, decked out from head to hoof in sparkly pink ribbons and, of course, an extremely fluffy tutu.
Ballerina Man pulled Rubix in front of him, “Watch it, Dark Horse. You wouldn’t want to hurt your little friend.”
Dark Horse’s jaw clenched and he lowered the revolvers, his eyes on Rubix’ ashen face.
Ballerina Man nodded at his comrades. Dandelion Dave and Silver Spoon each drew gigantic purple bazookas, and Shade Darker front flipped to land on the fountain’s top spire, pushed off and landed beside Ballerina Man, taking Rubix off his hands, “Alright pardners, hands up, or the girl gets it,wot wot. And I mean up Miss Hut, I know what you keep in those pockets of yours”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her pockets, Shade, she’s been suspended, remember?” Ballerina Man grinned, “And I happen to know that she’s been a very good girl lately. Wouldn’t want to risk getting the pink slip now would she?”
“You’d know all about pink slips, wouldn’t you Ballerina Man?” Cardboard Hut smiled faintly, raising her hands into the air so they bumped Dark Horse’s as he did the same, “But you’re right, I’m about as toothless as a newborn baby.” She eyed Rubix as the bad guys laughed, but didn’t have her goggles with her and so had to hide her surprise as her eyes raked Rubix’ forehead.
“Any ideas?” Glass Slipper whispered, her arms above her head.
“Yeah. One,” Cardboard Hut said a little louder than she meant. The bad guys fell silent in time for that, “One,” to echo over the Giggling Fountain, but they were too late. Cardboard Hut had already swung one of the revolvers from Dark Horse’s hands, aimed it at Rubix, and fired.
"Trench Coats and Love Notes - Part II"by;Fj-and Joan Marantal
Yeah. One,” Cardboard Hut said a little louder than she meant. The bad guys fell silent in time for that, “One,” to echo over the Giggling Fountain, but they were too late. Cardboard Hut had already swung one of the revolvers from Dark Horse’s hands, aimed it at Rubix, and fired.
Time slowed to a crawl and still everything happened in a flash. In their surprise at so bold an action, Silver Spoon and Dandelion Dave forgot their purple bazookas and watched with wide eyes as the bullet ripped through Agent Rubix and grazed Shade Darker’s shoulder. He dropped Rubix and swore loudly, hand pressed to the wound.
“Whoops. There goes your bargaining chip,” Cardboard Hut smirked and glanced sidelong at Silver Spoon, “Spoon, I’ve grown to expect more from you. Your androids are getting easier to spot.”
She lowered the smoking revolver and smiled in satisfaction. If she was good at anything, it was spotting Silver Spoon’s androids, having built a few androids herself. The key was looking at the roots of the hair, where a tiny bit of the metal interior always shown through.
Silver Spoon shook his head quickly to clear it, his wild hair swishing to and fro. He squinted down at Cardboard Hut as though he’d never seen her before, and then ever-so slowly a crooked smile broke his face – a smile as ominous as a distant black cloud.
He uttered something very softly, and Cardboard Hut jerked the revolver toward him, her eyes narrowed. “What did you say?” she demanded.
Spoon laughed, a sound made even more grating by the giggling of the nearby fountain. “I said,” jeered he, “That you are loosing your touch, my dear.”
Cardboard Hut stared at him, the gun shaking in her hands, “W-what are you talking about?”
He laughed again, this time echoed by his comrades. Step by tenuous step, Cardboard Hut turned back toward the archway, back toward Rubix, lowering the revolver without realizing she still held it or even that she still had arms. “No,” she whispered, “No, no, it can’t be…”
“Well,” Ballerina Man said with the air of someone getting off the couch to mow the lawn, “Since we’ve lost our bargaining chip, we’d best get this rumble started.” He mounted the enfroo-frooed Mountain Thunder, “Five to three. Personally I think it’s a bit one-sided.”
“Five…?” Dark Horse rasped, his throat completely dry.
“Oh, yes, for you see, your horse is on our side now,” Ballerina Man patted Mountain Thunder’s neck, “He’s a person too you know.” Mountain Thunder whinnied and flapped his wings approvingly.
“I’d count out the tinker,” Shade Darker said, drawing a long black whip and cracking it ominously. His wound, though bloody, was shallow enough to be ignored. “Five to two.”
Cardboard Hut didn’t register a word from either party. She stared at Agent Rubix, whose deep purple coat was now stained with blood, and took a step back, two steps back. Her legs shook beneath her. “What have I done?” she murmured, hiding her face in her hands. The revolver tumbled from her limp fingers, hit the cobbles and discharged with an earsplitting bang.
As though waiting for that very signal, the scene sprang to life. Dark Horse leapt one way and Glass Slipper the other as two purple plasma balls sped toward them from two purple bazookas. Mountain Thunder charged, Ballerina Man whooping some insane, high-pitched war cry. Glass Slipper only just sprang out of the way in time. Kicking off one of the ivy-clad walls, she landed behind Ballerina Man on the winged horse’s tutu, and attempted to unseat him. Meanwhile, a whip cracked, barely catching Dark Horse across the face, knocking his sunglasses from before his eyes. Moving quickly, he grabbed the whip and pulled, meaning to yank it out of Shade Darker’s hands. The Englishman chortled and the whip wrapped itself around Dark Horse, pulled him into the air and smashed him into the Giggling Fountain, or meant to, but he grabbed one of the fountain’s many spires, swung around it and kicked the bazooka out of Silver Spoon’s hands. As he released the spire, the whip dragged him upward and then slammed him into the ground.
Cardboard Hut fell to her knees as the battle raged in slow-motion fast-forward around her; the sounds pressing on her ears like white-noise from a distant, poorly tuned radio. Her entire body shook. Quintessentially numb, frozen to the very core but burning from head to toe, she thought she wept but didn’t, thought she ached but couldn’t. A feeling deeper than guilt threatened to overwhelm her if she lifted her eyes from the cobbled ground, and she knew she could not bear it.
Something tapped her beneath the chin and lifted her face, wrenching her neck – an ebony and silver cane. Silver Spoon’s eyes bore into hers. She did not blink; he smiled, and lifted something to her. She stared down the barrel of Dark Horse’s revolver, the revolver with which she had killed Rubix. Silver Spoon opened his mouth for a snide remark but something caught him around the chest and pulled him off his feet – an electric, retractable lasso, one of Cardboard Hut’s inventions. It swung him into the opposite wall. Stone shards showered him, and he lay motionless, the lasso still tied around his middle.
Cardboard Hut stood, not bothering to thank Dark Horse who had to dive away from a purple plasma ball coming from Dandelion Dave’s bazooka. She walked slowly forward, not flinching as a whip, aimed for Dark Horse, cracked just at her heels, nor when Mountain Thunder jumped clean over her head, Glass Slipper and Ballerina Man engaged in battle on the horse’s back. She collapsed to her knees beside Rubix just inside the archway.
When she had deftly untied Rubix’ bonds, Cardboard Hut lifted her from the ground and ran a gloved hand through Rubix’ curled hair, gazing in dismay at its roots. “You were going gray?” she whispered.
“I am going gray, thank you very much,” Rubix rasped. Cardboard Hut nearly dropped her in surprise. “And it’s thanks to…Glass Slipper mostly…with a little help… from you,” her breath came in small gasps between words, but she hadn’t lost her sarcasm, “You’re a terrible aim…”
“I missed…?”
“No… you got me,” Rubix winced as Cardboard Hut helped her to sit up, “But if you…thought I was an…android, you…should’ve got me…through the head to…disengage…the rest…of the body.”
“I-I-I forgot,” Cardboard Hut stuttered.
“Lucky for me,” Rubix said grimly. She tried to smile but only managed a sort of weak grimace.
“Rubix, I’m so sorry,” Cardboard Hut murmured brusquely, helping Rubix out of her trench coat. Rubix didn’t respond; she didn’t have the energy even if she knew what to say. The bullet had torn through her left shoulder and out her back, shattering her collarbone and much else besides. She could only be grateful that Cardboard Hut hadn’t aimed half an inch obliquely, where the bullet would have pierced her heart.
After tending to the wound as best she could, which mostly involved a torn bit of Rubix’ coat as a bandage, Cardboard Hut removed Rubix’ left earring, gave the top a twist, and flipped it open to reveal a screen. “HQ, this is Agent Cardboard Hut, do you copy?” She waited – no response. “HQ, this is Cardboard Hut, do you copy?”
“Suspended Agent Cardboard Hut, this is Agent Featherlite, you should not be using a communicator at this time. Explain yourself. Over.”
“My team has been attacked; Agent Rubix is seriously injured – requesting backup and medical transport. Over.”
“You should not be in battle, as you are a danger to your team. Request denied. Over and Out.”
“What?!” Cardboard Hut shook the communicator as though she could make Featherlite return, “You stupid….Get back here!”
“You should…go…help them,” Rubix wheezed, looking over at the battle where Glass Slipper was now hanging onto Mountain Thunder’s tail for dear life and Dark Horse had taken another blow from Shade Darker’s magic whip.
Cardboard Hut stared at the communicator, willing the screen to light up. “She’s right, you know,” she said quietly, “I’m a danger to the team…”
“As I’ve just…witnessed firsthand,” Rubix grasped the wound and groaned, “But we…don’t have…time for…self pity…at…the moment. If you don’t…get out there…I’ll have to….So go, now.”
“I’ll take you back to HQ.”
“I’ll be fine…”
“You’ll bleed to death by the time…”
“It’s not only…my life…that’s on the line…”
“So the bargaining chip’s not dead after all,” a cold voice said. Cardboard Hut spun toward Dandelion Dave, who loomed over the two of them, bazooka balanced on one broad shoulder, his piggy eyes fixed on Rubix’ pale face. She smiled weakly at him.
“I take…umbrage…at being referred to…as a…bargaining chip.”
“Would you prefer Dearest?”
“I recognized…your handwriting…you know.”
“But not until after the ditz blew our cover. Now, allow me to finish what the mechanical menace started,” he took aim with the bazooka, a mad grin on his bizarre green face.
“No!” Cardboard Hut cried, jumping to her feet, but she was too late. Dave had already fired.
--or tried to. The bazooka recoiled, spluttered and smoked, but in a moment of perfect deus ex machina, it had run out of ammo.
Cardboard Hut didn’t let this moment of luck go to waste. She high-kicked the gun expertly out of Dave’s hands, kicked off the arch and caught the bazooka as it spun through the air. She passed over his head, meaning to bludgeon him with the long purple nozzle, but he dodged as she swiped at him from above. Allowing her momentum to carry her to the other side of the archway, she kicked off again, this time pushing upward and swinging herself on top of the portico.
Meanwhile, Dark Horse was convinced he’d broken every bone in his body by the time he managed to draw his revolver and shoot the whip out of Shade Darker’s hand. –convinced, that is, until he realized that he could still move. With surprising speed for his bumps and bruises – and possible sprains and breaks – he ran pell-mell for the wall behind him, dashed up it, and back-flipped onto the fountain’s top-most spire. He fired repeatedly at Shade all the while, reloading the revolver so quickly that there was no pause in the rhythm of gunfire.
Shade Darker dodged each bullet with ease now that he knew they were coming. He drew upon his psychic expertise and caught the bullets in a kind of invisible field, allowing them to orbit him like small bronze moons. Soon Dark Horse found himself out of ammunition. Muttering something like, “Hot Diggity,” he shoved the revolver back in its holster and swung down behind the spire just as the orbiting bullets stopped and shot toward him in some bizarre parody of a swarm of bees.
The combined force of the bullets blew off the top spire, sending water and chunks of white stone flying in all directions. Shade Darker half floated, half jumped to land on top of one of the other spires, looking for Dark Horse as the bullets splashed into the water below like a shower of wishing coins.
“Yeeeeeehaaw!” Dark Horse swung around one of the other spires, holding on to the slippery wet stone with both hands. He smacked into Shade, kicking him hard off the fountain so that he landed on top of Silver Spoon in his pile of rubble.
Before the dust cleared, Dark Horse swung down from the fountain, grabbed the end of the lasso still tied around the unconscious Spoon, and swiftly tied the two villains together back to back, deftly knocking Shade out with the butt of the revolver to insure he wouldn’t use magic to untie himself.
A womanly scream drew Dark Horse’s attention skyward. He looked up to see that Glass Slipper had finally managed to unseat Ballerina Man, who plummeted to the earth, screeching blue murder. With Glass Slipper still clinging to his mane, Mountain Thunder dove, catching Ballerina Man by his fluffy pink and gold tutu and lowering him to the ground.
“Good work, Thundy,” he said, patting Mountain Thunder’s muzzle.
“Thundy?!” Dark Horse spat, “Ya couldn’t at least do him the decency of calling him Thunder? Same syllables…”
“Alright, enough’s enough, Ballerina Man,” Glass Slipper drew her glass gun, which glittered in the fading light.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Ballerina Man smiled, “You have a good seat, Glass Slipper, I’ll give you that much. But we’ll see how well you do now. Thundy -- let’s dance.”
Mountain Thunder whinnied and rose up on his hind legs, forcing Glass Slipper to drop her gun and grab hold or lose her seat. The glass gun fell to the ground but didn’t break. It was one of Cardboard Hut’s inventions specially made out of her reinforced, bullet-proof, water-proof, fire-proof, shock-proof, break-proof, dork-proof, diamond-hard glass, just like Glass Slipper’s shoes. Mountain Thunder daintily brushed the gun to the side with one of his hoofs to clear the “stage.”
“Heads up, Dark!” Cardboard Hut called. Dark Horse whirled around just in time to duck as Dandelion Dave flew through air to land on top of Silver Spoon and Shade Darker. Hut front flipped off the portico and straightened up next to Dark Horse, throwing the now smoking purple bazooka aside.
“Still had a little juice,” she said with a wry smile, “And I still had a duct tape ball. Got ‘im right in the gut…. Dark Horse,” her tone changed so quickly that he briefly tore his gaze away from Mountain Thunder, who had turned a perfect pirouette, “Ru’s still alive. She needs help badly.”
It took a moment for the words to register, but in that moment a few things happened simultaneously. Ballerina Man and Mountain Thunder chainned closer, arabesquing at Cardboard Hut so she had to leap far back to get out of the way. Dark Horse turned toward the arch where Rubix still lay to see Dandelion Dave, Silver Spoon, and Shade Darker all standing to block any attempt to reach her, two half-empty hypodermic needles of Dave’s Pepper Up Juice falling to the ground with the lasso, which, Dark Horse remembered in befuddlement, Dave shouldn’t have been able to untie, as Hut had made it to shock anyone who tried to untie it but Dark Horse. Spoon and Shade, both messaging their necks where they’d been stuck with the syringes, were not quite prepared to catch Cardboard Hut, who knocked into them when she jumped back to avoid the dancers. As the three of them toppled down, Dandelion Dave charged, brandishing a giant hypodermic at Dark Horse like a fencer’s sword.
“En garde!” Dave shouted, lunging. Dark Horse barely dodged in time, and Dave’s momentum drove him all the way to the wall, where his syringe stuck. Without hesitation, Dark Horse jumped on the syringe and swung himself up on top of the wall, Dave hot on his heels with the now slightly crooked needle in tow.
Cardboard Hut, noticing Dark Horse’s plight, grabbed the still recovering Spoon’s silver and ebony cane, drew from it a hidden sword, and threw it to Dark Horse in time for him to parry the next attack. Unfortunately, in using Spoon and Shade’s recovery time to throw the sword, Cardboard Hut missed her chance to get away and found her arms pinned behind her back by Shade Darker.
Glass Slipper continued to cling to Mountain Thunder, her grip slipping more and more as the moments passed. She tried to pull herself above the wing-joints, as this might offer her a more steady position sitting on the horse’s shoulders rather than clinging to his back, but Mountain Thunder’s constant motion made it almost impossible to do anything but hang on. She chanced a glance down at the tutu on which she now stood and had something of an epiphany. Very carefully she lifted her left foot and attempted to kick the heel of her right shoe, but at that very moment Mountain Thunder moved into another pirouette, and she would have flown off his back had she not been clinging so tightly to his mane.
Silver Spoon walked casually over to Rubix, drawing Dark Horse’s other revolver from his lab coat. Cardboard Hut struggled against her captor, but he laughed and pulled her arms tighter behind her back, lifting her off the ground. “Dark, protect Ru!” she screamed.
Dark Horse, still caught in the middle of the swordfight up on the wall, chanced a glance at Cardboard Hut. In the moment he glanced away, he missed a crucial parry and found himself stuck with the deadly syringe. He cried out in pain, dropping the sword and falling to his knees as the poison burned through him.
Shade Darker laughed and his grip loosened. Cardboard Hut stamped on his toes. He cursed and released her. She whirled around and pulled a sort of back flip kick that struck him right on the skull. As he stooped before her, she grabbed his white duster and pulled it over his head. She leap-frogged over him, grabbing one of his revolvers as she went, and fired at Silver Spoon before her feet even touched the ground, shooting the gun from his hand.
Dandelion Dave stood over Dark Horse and laughed with his head thrown back. “That’s a fast acting poison, you know,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes, “It immobilizes a person of about your size in a heartbeat, and kills in about five minu…argh!”
Dark Horse had pulled the half-empty syringe from his arm and shoved it into Dave. “The point envenom'd too! — Then, venom, to thy work,” he cried, collapsing.
“O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt,” Dave responded boisterously, his voice, though weakening, still held a slight note of humor as he stumbled back and fumbled for something in his yellow suit.
“You heard him, Thundy – get the silly cowboy.”
Mountain Thunder attacked martial ballet style.
“Wrong cowboy, you idiot!” Silver Spoon cried, finally managing to wrest Shade’s revolver from Cardboard Hut. She jumped and kicked off of the mad scientist’s shoulders, flying upward and onto the wall, then dashing to Dark Horse as Spoon tripped backward over Rubix’ outstretched leg.
Mountain Thunder backed off of Shade Darker, who had just untangled himself from his duster, and now lay flat on his back, dazed. Cardboard Hut stood protectively over Dark Horse, her fists raised. She watched Mountain Thunder and her eyes widened in surprise.
“Sous-sus, mount, pirouette,” she muttered to herself, following Mountain Thunder’s motions,“Chainne, chainne, chainne…” The horse came closer and closer. Cardboard Hut grabbed Dark Horse and jumped out of the way to dodge the, “Arabesque!” They landed at the foot of the fountain, Hut clutching Dark Horse and watching Mountain Thunder through slitted eyes. “Sous-sus, mount, pirouette…” she prepared herself to spring.
Glass Slipper, still clinging desperately to Mountain Thunder’s back, finally managed to hit her right shoe, but nothing happened. “Jammed,” she muttered like a curse. Again she mashed her left foot into her right and grinned. Both her heels sprouted glass stilettos. With a triumphant yell, she swept her foot along the elastic band holding the tutu up, and jumped backward off the horse, swinging herself up on top of the nearest wall as her heels shrank back to their normal, sturdy size.
Mountain Thunder remained upright as the tutu fluttered to the ground. He pawed the air, his eyes wide and confused, and then he landed on all fours and attempted to inspect the ballet slippers on his hooves. With an indignant snort he tossed his head, flapped his beribboned wings, and turned toward Ballerina Man.
“N-n-nice Th-th-thundy,” Ballerina Man said, backing up.
Mountain Thunder bared his teeth at this and pawed the ground like a bull, mashing up the tutu beneath his hooves.
“Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain; No medicine in the world can do thee good!” Dandelion Dave suddenly cried from up on the wall, his eyes on Dark Horse, who lay with blanched face and closed eyes, “Except maybe this!” Dave pulled out another hypodermic, this one small and red.
Mountain Thunder turned toward Dave, murder in his eyes.
“Now cracks a noble heart.—Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” Dave cackled, lifting the syringe high in the air in order to more dramatically shove it into his own arm.
The scene exploded. Cardboard Hut, who had just found Glass Slipper’s glass gun, aimed quickly and pulled the trigger, meaning to hit Dave’s hand and make him drop the antidote. At that exact moment a revolver nearby discharged, shattering her gun and reversing the momentum of the bullet so that it fired out the back in a torrent of glass shards. Glass Slipper dashed along the wall toward Dave. Mountain Thunder sprang forward, but Shade Darker roped him with Dark Horse’s retractable lasso.
Another gunshot sounded. Dave screamed, dropped the syringe and clutched his hand. Glass Slipper, who had just reached him, grabbed the antidote as it tumbled through the air, kicked off the wall and landed beside Dark Horse and Cardboard Hut, who had fallen to her knees, doubled-up with her hands over her face.
Heads turned toward the archway from which the final shot had come.
“Rubix!” Glass Slipper cried in relief, “You’re alive!”
Rubix smiled weakly, one arm around a column of the arch, the other clutching her sleek multifunction, multi-setting, multi-colored pistol.
“Retreat!” Ballerina Man shouted as Dave blanched and fainted. Spoon, Ballerina Man, and Shade climbed, danced, and/or floated up the wall to Dave. Mountain Thunder rose into the air and charged, still trailing the lasso, but by the time he reached the place they had gathered, Ballerina Man, Silver Spoon, Shade Darker, and Dandelion Dave had teleported.
The horse turned and landed, clearly thinking he had driven them all away as he tossed his head proudly. He trotted to his master and nudged him, expecting some form of praise.
“Hurry it up, Glass Slipper,” Rubix wheezed, sliding down the wall.
“Oh, yeah…um,” Glass Slipper knelt beside Dark Horse and stuck his arm with the syringe.
“Rubix my love!” a voice called. Rubix groaned as a dark-haired young agent came charging into the garden, putting away his gun as he knelt beside her.
“…please, Twit…”
“Everything will be alright, don’t worry, I’m here,” he crooned, stroking her hair. He lifted her onto a stretcher provided by a number of agents in white coats
“And where are all the baddies?” a large man with no neck squeaked in his unusually high voice as he strode over the cobbles, Agents Featherlite and Tinkerbell at his heels, weapons drawn.
“Gone, Agent Bugbear. Ya just missed ‘em,” Glass Slipper glanced at him over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Dark Horse. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.
“What have you done to my fountain?” Tinkerbell breathed, his face contorted in shock, “It was a masterpiece of artistry and hydraulics. It’s ruined. It’s horrible. It’s…It’s…It doesn’t even giggleanymore!”
“To tell you the truth,” Bugbear grinned, “I think it’s better this way.”
“Dark Horse!” a young woman came hurtling in, her dark pigtails swaying. She pushed Glass Slipper aside. “Speak to me, Dark Horse, speak to me!” she cried, flinging herself on top of him.
“Alright, enough of that,” Glass Slipper grabbed Agent Flittertwit and pulled her away, “Give him some air.”
“But he’ll be alright, won’t he?” she sobbed, tears trickling down from behind her sunglasses.
“Of course he…well…um…”Glass Slipper turned back to Dark Horse, her expression tense. What if she hadn’t administered the antidote in time? What if it wasn’t really the antidote? What if…?
“‘Course I am,” Dark Horse rasped in his western drawl, his face still very white as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “--take more than that to finish me.”
Glass Slipper flung her arms around him, knocking him back down. “You’re alive!” she squealed.
“Hey now, that’s enough,” he choked through her strangling embrace. She backed off of him, laughing, and he pushed himself up on his elbows again, helped along by Mountain Thunder.
“Welcome back, Thundy.” Dark Horse smiled, patting Mountain Thunder’s muzzle. Mountain Thunder snorted indignantly and stamped his still pink-clad hoof. “Only jokin’, Thunder; don’t get your tutu in a bunch.”
“Alright, so the danger’s passed, everyone’s alright, now where is she?” Agent Featherlite demanded. She spotted Cardboard Hut still doubled-up beside the fountain, and glided to her, “Agent Cardboard Hut, you were not to go on anymore missions. Explain yourself.”
“Aw, now Featherlite, this wasn’t a mission…” Dark Horse started.
“If it weren’t…for Hut…I’d be dead now. She…stopped Dave…and Spoon…” Rubix gasped, fell back into the stretcher and lay still. She had fainted. Twitterflit and the agents in white coats rushed her away.
“If it weren’t for Hut you wouldn’t have needed saving…” Glass Slipper mumbled. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth.
“What’s this?” Agent Featherlite inquired sharply, a curious, slightly crazed half-smile playing across her thin lips.
“Well…um…” Glass Slipper turned to Dark Horse for help. He made a face but decided to stick with the truth.
“She thought Rubix was an android, Featherlite. Her…,” he gulped, glancing apologetically at Cardboard Hut, who did not look up at him, “…that is to say, Rubix’ wound is the result of friendly fire.”
“Indeed?” Agent Featherlite said, towering above Hut, who looked very small crouched in Featherlite’s long shadow, “That will take some explaining as well. Not only are you not to carry a weapon, but you opened fire on your own comrade. Even you, clumsy, bumbling you should know the difference between a human and an android. Aren’t mechanics your specialty?”
“It was an honest mistake!” Dark Horse tried to get to his feet but found that his legs still refused to support him.
“It was a near-fatal mistake.”
“She turned the tide of the battle…”
“She shouldn’t have even been in the battle.”
“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy, Featherlite…”
“That’s quite enough out of you, Hamlet,” Agent Featherlite’s nostrils flared, her face forming an expression that her dancers knew to fear, but Dark Horse might have found humorous if his mind hadn’t been busy with a nagging suspicion. He leaned over to Glass Slipper as Featherlite turned away.
“Hamlet?” he whispered, “How did she…?”
“Agent Cardboard Hut, serial MP3, you are in violation of code L33T. Your incompetence as an agent, mechanic, and dancer, in combination with this violation are enough to have you expelled from the agency. I am of the opinion…look at me when I’m talking to you, Hut. Don’t you recognize the seriousness of these accusations?”
Cardboard Hut remained as she was, head bowed over her hands.
“I’m sure you don’t want to be remembered as a weeping coward in your final moments in the agency, Hut. Stand and face me.”
Glass Slipper glanced at the other agents in the garden, hoping against hope that someone would come to their rescue. Her stomach turned as she caught sight of Agent Tinkerbell’s expression of suppressed triumph. His mouth had twisted itself into a thin smirk as though he were trying not to look too pleased. It was common knowledge that he didn’t care much for Cardboard Hut – he’d hated her since the moment she set foot in the agency, usurping his position as head mechanic.
“Cardboard Hut, this is your superior speaking,” Featherlite spat, “I command you to look at me.”
When Cardboard Hut didn’t move, Featherlite grabbed her by the arm and attempted to pull her to her feet, but only succeeded in forcing her to sit upright. Her hands remained glued to her face.
“Leave her alone!” Glass Slipper shouted, suddenly very white.
Featherlite dropped Cardboard Hut and then seemed abashed that she’d listened to the command of an underling, “Stay out of this, Agent Glass Sli…”
“She’s hurt!” Glass Slipper cried, tearing her sunglasses off to get a better look. There was no mistaking the crimson splotches spreading over Hut’s large tan work gloves as she pressed them to her face.
Dark Horse gasped, noticing the blood just as Glass Slipper did. Again he endeavored to rise, but Glass Slipper placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head at him. She strode forward and pushed Featherlite unceremoniously aside.
Ignoring Featherlite’s cries of outrage, Glass Slipper tenderly placed an arm around Cardboard Hut’s trembling shoulders, “Hut, it’s me. It’s Glass Slipper. What happened?”
Cardboard Hut made an indistinct sound, muffled by her gloves.
“I can’t hear you. Could you move your hands?”
Cardboard Hut shook her head.
“We can’t help you if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’s alright. You know we’re a team…. Please…” her voice trailed off as Cardboard Hut lifted her hands just enough to speak.
“I especially designed that gun to be shatter-proof,” she said quietly. Her voice remained muffled as she could only speak from one corner of her mouth, “And most definitely dork-proof…”
She slowly lowered her hands. Someone screamed. Glass Slipper recoiled. Dark Horse, who had been attempting to stand again, fell hard, his fist over his mouth.
Cardboard Hut attempted a smile but found it too painful with half her mouth in tatters, “Well, if anyone deserved a bullet to the face, it was me.”
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